the Jester
Legend
The Tale of Delilah and the Dragon
8/3/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress of Hiktakka Getsch
Together, Delilah, Grisly, Zazou and Dzaram watch as the githzerai assault is repelled. They do not take part in the battle; it would be unnecessary, and might reveal more than they wish. The githyanki do not need help; they are brutally effective. Their sorcerers fling angry magic unique to their race, or shared with them by Dzaram; their warriors parry and slash the githzerai monks’ attack. Ominous himself takes part in the slaughter with relish, the gnashing orichalcum teeth in his torso chewing through and tearing apart githzerai after githzerai.
“Impressive, isn’t he?” Dzaram comments.
Zazou shudders. Dzaram smiles kindly at the Yellow Bard, but his eyes are cold. “I’ll never forget what I owe you,” Zazou says softly. That could have been me. His stomach, as always, is churning. At least I don’t have those horrible teeth there anymore, he moans to himself.
Ominous laughs loudly as he tears another of the githzerai apart.
Nydroth remarks, “I have always wanted to see what would happen if I crossed something that had the mouth with another creature. Would the resulting cross breed have the mouth? Would it remain orichalcum?”
“You raise an interesting question,” Dzaram admits, “but it is not worth risking Ominous for such an experiment.”
“Oh, I would never suggest that- but should there ever be another, less useful, recipient of the mouth...”
Zazou shudders again, knowing that that, too, could have been him: crossed with some sort of disgusting monster and fused into a single creature. Grisly earned his nickname centuries ago. “Less useful” indeed! Zazou rubs a yellow hand across his face. As he often has over the last century, he wonders what he is doing with these undead monsters.
But then he glances again at Ominous, and remembers the only hope of escaping the mouth that he had ever had, and he sighs. As always, when he grows morose, realizing just how much worse things could be helps a lot. Dzaram and Nydroth rescued him from an incredibly awful fate. Granted, they did it for their own reasons, transferring the mouth to Ominous, but still- they saved him. And they have saved his life more than a dozen times over since! And think of the sights he has seen at their side- things no one else he has ever met could even imagine! From the stilled underwater city of the clockwork horrors to the reverberating Vibrant Clouds in the deep ether, he has seen and done things that he never even imagined at the side of these undead monsters. Now his thoughts are heavy with irony. He can tell he is falling into a sullen mood; but moodiness is something he allows himself.
“Come, we’ve seen enough; the githzerai are routed.” Dzaram nods in satisfaction. “Let us return to the sitting room and finish our earlier discussion.”
A few moments later the cabal sits around a table while unseen servants bring out a selection of beverages. “I’ve always wondered, Dzaram,” Delilah says, “why you rescued me.”
The Lich of Forinthia gestures at Nydroth. “Part of it was his recommendation,” Dzaram responds. “I was seeking to establish a cabal of undead spellcasters. As you know, many of my plans are long-term.” This, Delilah thinks to herself, is an understatement of the first degree. Dzaram’s plots stretch for generations and for thousands of years. She does not comprehend his goals in the slightest; but Dzaram has an incredible amount of money, and has been accumulating it for eons for some purpose of his own. She has been involved in some of his more incredible plans- the Blood of Dexter operation that resulted in Prayzose, for instance. And she just doesn’t get it. What is clear is that he is on Forinthia’s side, regardless of appearances. Despite having kidnapped one Emperor and arranged the death of another, Dzaram has Forinthia’s interests in mind in everything he does.
It is a puzzle to Delilah, but one she does not worry over. He tells her what he needs and wishes her to know.
After a moment’s introspection, she returns to her tale.
***
1/19/98 O.L.G., 2 p.m., at sea
Delilah and Mabrack the storm giant sailed through the sea gate revealed as a crackling energy field atop the water by Mabrack’s spell, and suddenly they were in the midst of an icy sea. There were floes of floating ice everywhere around them.
Mabrack grinned and gestured all around. “Quite a dramatic difference, eh?”
Delilah was amazed. The sun was off in one direction, significantly canted from the center of the sky. “How far away are we?”
“A long ways,” the giant replied.
***
Had Delilah been alive, the cold would have bitten her harshly. As it was, she dressed in sheer silks of white and indigo. She and Mabrack explored the icy seas for a few days before finding a large iceberg with caves hewn in it. The ice caves of the berg were too small for Mabrack, so he stayed in the giant boat upon which they were traveling while Delilah began exploring. She met a friendly talking owl, named Cooheero. Cooheero asked for her help in finding something- Delilah cannot remember what it was after all this time- and told her that there was a bear within the caves. Realizing that befriending the owl might lead to a great deal of information about the surrounding areas, Delilah agreed. Forewarned against the bear, she moved in and slew it. It wore a chain around its neck, allowing it to stretch only so far away from its chamber; clearly, Delilah thought, something must have set it as a guard.
Further in the caves there was a branching. One of the passages headed upward at a 30 degree slope. Delilah headed that way. Soon the passage leveled out and curved around-
A great wingtip was thrust from the ice, almost 5’ high. Delilah halted and stared in amazement. It was scaly and the dead white color of a cave fish. A shadow in the ice extended below, but was lost in the frozen depths. What the hell is this? she thought. The word dragon was echoing in the back of her mind. Surely not...
Deciding to leave it alone- prudence had saved her life more than once before- Delilah the Damned continued along, encountering and destroying several frozen undead. Fortunately, one of her spells was burning hands, which she used to good effect against the ice-encrusted monsters.
Deeper still she went, back into the heart of the iceberg, where she fought a strange man with an eye patch who shot a ray of frost from one eye. His pet winter wolf was more of a challenge than he was, however, and although she was wounded, Delilah managed to overcome them both.
That was the end of the upper passage, however; and so Delilah returned to the lower area after resting and recovering spells. When she returned, she found the lower passage led to a large chamber. Frozen in the wall was a huge shape. This must be where the wingtip goes, Delilah thought.
There were no other obvious exits. It seemed to Delilah that she had explored everywhere. In retrospect, her next move was foolish. She had not even checked for secret passages in many places yet. Prudence had always served her well- prudence and planning. When she acted on impulse, disaster struck.
Delilah returned to the upper passage, climbing the slope until it leveled out into a passageway. This she followed until she returned to the exposed wingtip. She studied it for a moment and did, in retrospect, the dumbest thing of her life.
She cast burning hands on it.
A sheet of red-orange flames washed out, melting a small piece of the ice surrounding the wingtip and blistering some of the flesh. Immediately Delilah was thrown from her feet as the iceberg heaved. She scrambled up, crying out in horror. What was I thinking? she screamed at herself. The wingtip was starting to flex. Cracks were spreading on the ice. There was a rumbling that threw Delilah down again.
Frantically, she cast fly on herself and began to zip back along the passage, but that word was echoing in her mind again. Dragon!!
A great bellowing roar echoed behind her. A massive chunk of ice struck her across the leg as she fled, almost knocking her out of control. She careened along, fleeing to where the corridors branched.
And she could see it, massive, white smashed free of the wall of ice holding it prisoner. And it saw her, and let out a blast of freezing cold, sufficient to slay most normal humans.
Delilah, being undead, didn’t much care about the cold, and just flew as fast as she could. With another enormously angry roar, the dragon tore free of the ice completely, and the iceberg began to collapse. Delilah the Damned sped out just in time. She plunged into the water, hoping to lose the dragon in the frothing murk. Mabrack stood in the prow of his boat, concerned by the huge chunks of ice crashing all around him.
The dragon emerged, and Mabrack’s jaw dropped. He cast a lightning bolt that crackled into the dragon, but it only roared and dove into the frigid water, overturning the giant’s vessel. Mabrack gave a cry and pitched into the water.
Delilah used her fly as best she could underwater, but it wasn’t enough. The dragon swam forward faster than she could flee and struck her with both claws, then bit her. Delilah screamed and played dead.
It was a desperate chance. She knew she couldn’t outrun it; she knew that she could not hope to defeat it. Another volley of attacks like that and she would be no more. She couldn’t fight it- there was no chance- it was a god. She knew her only chance was to use her greatest weapon- her mind. Being undead, she could ‘turn off’. She had done it for Billy on numerous occasions. Now she did it in the frantic hope that it would fool the dragon.
With a triumphant roar, the dragon slashed her with a claw again. Despairingly, Delilah knew then that her gambit would fail.
But she was wrong.
It breathed again, and this time it didn’t matter that she was not hurt by the blast of cold. The water around her turned to ice. She felt the ice shudder as the dragon dealt it one final blow with its claw. Then she was frozen and free, floating away as part of the icy debris upon the cold sea. It was an icy tomb she would remain in for fifty years.
Next Time: The rescue of Delilah!
8/3/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress of Hiktakka Getsch
Together, Delilah, Grisly, Zazou and Dzaram watch as the githzerai assault is repelled. They do not take part in the battle; it would be unnecessary, and might reveal more than they wish. The githyanki do not need help; they are brutally effective. Their sorcerers fling angry magic unique to their race, or shared with them by Dzaram; their warriors parry and slash the githzerai monks’ attack. Ominous himself takes part in the slaughter with relish, the gnashing orichalcum teeth in his torso chewing through and tearing apart githzerai after githzerai.
“Impressive, isn’t he?” Dzaram comments.
Zazou shudders. Dzaram smiles kindly at the Yellow Bard, but his eyes are cold. “I’ll never forget what I owe you,” Zazou says softly. That could have been me. His stomach, as always, is churning. At least I don’t have those horrible teeth there anymore, he moans to himself.
Ominous laughs loudly as he tears another of the githzerai apart.
Nydroth remarks, “I have always wanted to see what would happen if I crossed something that had the mouth with another creature. Would the resulting cross breed have the mouth? Would it remain orichalcum?”
“You raise an interesting question,” Dzaram admits, “but it is not worth risking Ominous for such an experiment.”
“Oh, I would never suggest that- but should there ever be another, less useful, recipient of the mouth...”
Zazou shudders again, knowing that that, too, could have been him: crossed with some sort of disgusting monster and fused into a single creature. Grisly earned his nickname centuries ago. “Less useful” indeed! Zazou rubs a yellow hand across his face. As he often has over the last century, he wonders what he is doing with these undead monsters.
But then he glances again at Ominous, and remembers the only hope of escaping the mouth that he had ever had, and he sighs. As always, when he grows morose, realizing just how much worse things could be helps a lot. Dzaram and Nydroth rescued him from an incredibly awful fate. Granted, they did it for their own reasons, transferring the mouth to Ominous, but still- they saved him. And they have saved his life more than a dozen times over since! And think of the sights he has seen at their side- things no one else he has ever met could even imagine! From the stilled underwater city of the clockwork horrors to the reverberating Vibrant Clouds in the deep ether, he has seen and done things that he never even imagined at the side of these undead monsters. Now his thoughts are heavy with irony. He can tell he is falling into a sullen mood; but moodiness is something he allows himself.
“Come, we’ve seen enough; the githzerai are routed.” Dzaram nods in satisfaction. “Let us return to the sitting room and finish our earlier discussion.”
A few moments later the cabal sits around a table while unseen servants bring out a selection of beverages. “I’ve always wondered, Dzaram,” Delilah says, “why you rescued me.”
The Lich of Forinthia gestures at Nydroth. “Part of it was his recommendation,” Dzaram responds. “I was seeking to establish a cabal of undead spellcasters. As you know, many of my plans are long-term.” This, Delilah thinks to herself, is an understatement of the first degree. Dzaram’s plots stretch for generations and for thousands of years. She does not comprehend his goals in the slightest; but Dzaram has an incredible amount of money, and has been accumulating it for eons for some purpose of his own. She has been involved in some of his more incredible plans- the Blood of Dexter operation that resulted in Prayzose, for instance. And she just doesn’t get it. What is clear is that he is on Forinthia’s side, regardless of appearances. Despite having kidnapped one Emperor and arranged the death of another, Dzaram has Forinthia’s interests in mind in everything he does.
It is a puzzle to Delilah, but one she does not worry over. He tells her what he needs and wishes her to know.
After a moment’s introspection, she returns to her tale.
***
1/19/98 O.L.G., 2 p.m., at sea
Delilah and Mabrack the storm giant sailed through the sea gate revealed as a crackling energy field atop the water by Mabrack’s spell, and suddenly they were in the midst of an icy sea. There were floes of floating ice everywhere around them.
Mabrack grinned and gestured all around. “Quite a dramatic difference, eh?”
Delilah was amazed. The sun was off in one direction, significantly canted from the center of the sky. “How far away are we?”
“A long ways,” the giant replied.
***
Had Delilah been alive, the cold would have bitten her harshly. As it was, she dressed in sheer silks of white and indigo. She and Mabrack explored the icy seas for a few days before finding a large iceberg with caves hewn in it. The ice caves of the berg were too small for Mabrack, so he stayed in the giant boat upon which they were traveling while Delilah began exploring. She met a friendly talking owl, named Cooheero. Cooheero asked for her help in finding something- Delilah cannot remember what it was after all this time- and told her that there was a bear within the caves. Realizing that befriending the owl might lead to a great deal of information about the surrounding areas, Delilah agreed. Forewarned against the bear, she moved in and slew it. It wore a chain around its neck, allowing it to stretch only so far away from its chamber; clearly, Delilah thought, something must have set it as a guard.
Further in the caves there was a branching. One of the passages headed upward at a 30 degree slope. Delilah headed that way. Soon the passage leveled out and curved around-
A great wingtip was thrust from the ice, almost 5’ high. Delilah halted and stared in amazement. It was scaly and the dead white color of a cave fish. A shadow in the ice extended below, but was lost in the frozen depths. What the hell is this? she thought. The word dragon was echoing in the back of her mind. Surely not...
Deciding to leave it alone- prudence had saved her life more than once before- Delilah the Damned continued along, encountering and destroying several frozen undead. Fortunately, one of her spells was burning hands, which she used to good effect against the ice-encrusted monsters.
Deeper still she went, back into the heart of the iceberg, where she fought a strange man with an eye patch who shot a ray of frost from one eye. His pet winter wolf was more of a challenge than he was, however, and although she was wounded, Delilah managed to overcome them both.
That was the end of the upper passage, however; and so Delilah returned to the lower area after resting and recovering spells. When she returned, she found the lower passage led to a large chamber. Frozen in the wall was a huge shape. This must be where the wingtip goes, Delilah thought.
There were no other obvious exits. It seemed to Delilah that she had explored everywhere. In retrospect, her next move was foolish. She had not even checked for secret passages in many places yet. Prudence had always served her well- prudence and planning. When she acted on impulse, disaster struck.
Delilah returned to the upper passage, climbing the slope until it leveled out into a passageway. This she followed until she returned to the exposed wingtip. She studied it for a moment and did, in retrospect, the dumbest thing of her life.
She cast burning hands on it.
A sheet of red-orange flames washed out, melting a small piece of the ice surrounding the wingtip and blistering some of the flesh. Immediately Delilah was thrown from her feet as the iceberg heaved. She scrambled up, crying out in horror. What was I thinking? she screamed at herself. The wingtip was starting to flex. Cracks were spreading on the ice. There was a rumbling that threw Delilah down again.
Frantically, she cast fly on herself and began to zip back along the passage, but that word was echoing in her mind again. Dragon!!
A great bellowing roar echoed behind her. A massive chunk of ice struck her across the leg as she fled, almost knocking her out of control. She careened along, fleeing to where the corridors branched.
And she could see it, massive, white smashed free of the wall of ice holding it prisoner. And it saw her, and let out a blast of freezing cold, sufficient to slay most normal humans.
Delilah, being undead, didn’t much care about the cold, and just flew as fast as she could. With another enormously angry roar, the dragon tore free of the ice completely, and the iceberg began to collapse. Delilah the Damned sped out just in time. She plunged into the water, hoping to lose the dragon in the frothing murk. Mabrack stood in the prow of his boat, concerned by the huge chunks of ice crashing all around him.
The dragon emerged, and Mabrack’s jaw dropped. He cast a lightning bolt that crackled into the dragon, but it only roared and dove into the frigid water, overturning the giant’s vessel. Mabrack gave a cry and pitched into the water.
Delilah used her fly as best she could underwater, but it wasn’t enough. The dragon swam forward faster than she could flee and struck her with both claws, then bit her. Delilah screamed and played dead.
It was a desperate chance. She knew she couldn’t outrun it; she knew that she could not hope to defeat it. Another volley of attacks like that and she would be no more. She couldn’t fight it- there was no chance- it was a god. She knew her only chance was to use her greatest weapon- her mind. Being undead, she could ‘turn off’. She had done it for Billy on numerous occasions. Now she did it in the frantic hope that it would fool the dragon.
With a triumphant roar, the dragon slashed her with a claw again. Despairingly, Delilah knew then that her gambit would fail.
But she was wrong.
It breathed again, and this time it didn’t matter that she was not hurt by the blast of cold. The water around her turned to ice. She felt the ice shudder as the dragon dealt it one final blow with its claw. Then she was frozen and free, floating away as part of the icy debris upon the cold sea. It was an icy tomb she would remain in for fifty years.
Next Time: The rescue of Delilah!
Last edited:
Until rescued... a long time later.
