Dongle the Dungeoneeror--CLOSED--Adventure #52

[Gray Shade]

A Wise Choice and An Entrance

Due to my master's great wisdom we were not lost at this encounter. A lesser man would have easily fallen for her trap and been enchanted to follow, even if he told himself it was for revenge, deep into the twisted forest. In such a case, I am sure, none of those involved would ever have returned except the woman.

However, such was not the case with our small party. Dongle returned from the forest quickly, having frightened away whatever had bewitched us. He was attempting to awaken me, but since I would not respond, he had to remove me from my steed. Once done, he turned to a horse to unstrap its saddlebag, when he heard a sound from the forest, a language that was spoken in soothing song. He looked for the source, but before he could find it, he heard cursing in common and the prairie grass all around us came alive, easily enveloping my incapacitated body, but failing to grip my master's legs. Both horses stopped abruptly, but did not take their wide eyes off the pass into the woods, the grass had them by all four legs each.

Then, there was a swish of air, a whiff, like a cat that has leapt silently just past you in the dark, and suddenly standing atop one of the horse's heads was an eighteen inch-tall humanoid creature with deep blue skin and long, sharply straight navy blue hair. His ears and nose were all at least a third his height and he wore nothing but a black loin cloth, a gaudy golden necklace, and a tiny bow and sword. He threw both his hands into the air triumphantly and exclaimed in the same high-pitched voice that had cursed just seconds earlier, "I have come! Pay tribute, Giants, for you are saved!"

 

[Lazlow]

Dongle fought the urge to roll his eyes and let out a long sigh. Indeed, they were saved, but he could think of better situations than that of being indebted to a grig.

"Yes... Yes, thank you very much," he replied as warmly as he could muster (which wasn't much), "you have, indeed, saved us." He looked at my slumbering figure on the ground and then closely examined the horses' faces. "How long do you think they'll be entranced like this?" he asked the little blue person, adding, "And what exactly was that... Creature?"

 

[Gray Shade]

The Grig

The Grig, for my master's surmisal was indeed accurate, smacked a tiny fist onto the inside elbow of the other arm and flipped that hand, middle finger extended, toward the forest. He then said something in what I could have told the master, were I not sleeping, was Sylvan and quite rude.

"Stinking Dryad!" he said in common. "Everywhere else, they're all sweethearts, but in the Twisted Forest they're all . . ." He pulled his long ears down and let go so that sprang back up, vibrating. "Twisted. Just about everything in there is. Us Fey creatures do okay for the most part. Whatever dark force cursed the forest an Elf's age ago hasn't corrupted us. It made the Dryad's a bit more rambuncious though. The little tart--she would have pulled me in given the chance." He gave his long pointed chin an almost obsene thoughtful rub and added, "Maybe that wouldn't be so bad though, eh? I'll bet she really was just looking for company from you and your companions."

He then leapt through the air, turned a few sumersaults and landed on the other horse's head. With each hand, he grabbed one eyelid of the horse and lifted them to look closely at the eyes beneath. "You have no time for such shenanigans, though. The little giant told me you would be coming to meet me. I have met thee. We have maybe five minutes before your companions awaken, so if you have business to discuss that is not theirs, we might as well get that out of the way first." The Grig then turned and sat on the horse's head, a leg dangling over each side of one of the horse's ears. The creature absently examined the horse's ear--inside and out. "What do you seek and what have you offer?"

 

[Lazlow]

What an eccentric performance, Master Dongle thought to himself after witnessing the sprite's unusual behavior. He sized up the grig for a moment and then spoke.

"I've no business that is not my companions'," he stated flatly, gesturing at both my prone figure and the horses, "so let us discuss this at our leisure. What I want is any information you may have on the new owner of yonder keep, and any information on the keep itself. What I have to offer is... Well, that all depends on the information you give, now doesn't it?" He leaned against his horse, folding his arms nonchalantly and propping one foot up on its toe. "Let's start with a name. Who is the rat-faced gentleman who now calls the keep his own?"

 

[Gray Shade]

The Grig's expression was one of genuine confusion at first as it looked from the Keep to Dongle and back, then its eyes went wide with realization. "Ah! Yes! As the littlest giant asked about." With that, he looked nervously about, then leapt over to the saddle next to Dongle and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. Here, told to me by my master later, is what the creature said:

"His name is Maurak'Gunar. Yes, that's right," he pulled his head back so he could nod emphatically then stuck his long chin and nose back under his cupped hand to Dongle's ear, "an Orcish name. Although diluted, that is where his blood-line flows from. Some say that, despite appearences, he is almost entirely Orc, but changed by the sorcery of thread and steel to look otherwise so that he may operate freely in the cities of the Third Kingdom. I did not know that he owns the Black Keep. If that is true, I will not journey there again in my future years. Oh, yes, yes, I've been there. But we will discuss that soon enough. For now, I will tell you more of the Orc lord. I know him from his time he spent in the Twisted Forest. This was several years ago, and I have not seen him myself since. While here, he subjegated many creatures to his will: most, dark and evil, he sent into the mountains behind the forest for an unknown purpose; others, Fey, like myself and the Dryad mostly, he fed to his armies as torture subjects and food. Like I say, though, it has been years since we see him and good years they be with most of the Orcs and nasties up in the mountains rather than the forest." The Grig leaned back then, his little hands on his back he stretched and moaned. His whisper tone left him and he complained, "So stiff."

His next line I'm sure my master did not believe. "Ack! GaaaCk! And my thoat so dry. Not used to talking so much, you see? Have you some wine to fill the cracks in my throat?"

 

[Lazlow]

With a dry look at the grig, Dongle took a wineskin from his horse (which, thankfully, was filled with an inexpensive table wine) and started to hand it to the sprite when he realized that it was larger than the creature itself. He propped it up on the horse's saddle and angled the spout down so that the grig could drink from it. While he drank, my good master spoke.

"Orcish, eh? Sounds about right. There was a rather... Sinister look about the fellow. Hmmm... A goodly amount of information, but I do not see how it can be of use to me at the present." Of course, it might certainly be of use to me in the future, he thought. "What do you know of the keep itself, friend sprite? You imply that you've been there before, tell me what you know of it's inner workings." He gave the grig a wink and added, "Give me something good and I might even break out the good wine."

 

[Gray Shade]

Continuing the conversation with the Grig

The Grig wrapped his blue lips around the tip of the wineskin and sucked greedily at it for a moment. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, "Throat better, but you propose barter for better wine. Very well. You are planning to go into Keep, right? Well, I give a little more information on . . . him, and then you get nice grail out for good wine and we make deal."

He smacked his lips and took another pull off the wineskin before leaning close, and through now-purple lips whispered:

"They say that Maurak'Gunar has made many deals with Lords of Despair and ancient elementals. They say, the very nothingness itself--" he indicated the air with a wave of the hand before smacking his lips, having another drink and then continuing. ". . . is his spy and reports to him. You do not hear of him in your city because your kind pays no mind to the happenings of the Twisted Forest or the comings and goings of dark magicians. Your people fear the creatures of old in the Forest, but they slumber and are no threat. Your people do not see the real threat." He took another sip and actually looked thoughtful for a moment before whispering, "Makes me very afraid that he is lord of Black Keep now, although explains what happened to me there. Has forces in mountains on one side of forest, what forces has he in keep?" His tone changed halfway through the sentence, from merely wondering aloud, to actually asking the question of my master. He looked at Dongle as if expecting an answer.

* * *

Footnote: the Lords of Despair were an ancient coven of warlocks who lived mortal lives that reached their peak of power during the Fifth Year of the Worg (always bleak years). It was during that year The Tower Luna was destroyed, which caused the Four Flights (one in each cardinal direction, the result of which was the formation of the Four Kingdoms). Beyond historical evidence that the Lords did, in fact, exist during this year, there is no proof that they did, as legend would have it, summon a swarm of ten-thousand fire elementals to destroy the tower and every ruler of the age. Legend would further have it that with the destruction of the tower they planned to set themselves up as gods, but were thwarted when the elementals they called upon were not repaid the debt for their services, and they pulled the Lords of Despair through the ether to their own plane, where the coven has worked to escape ever since, often granting boons and favors to those who would embrace the dark arts so fully as to be able to contact them, but thus far unable to return to our plane as they swore to do.

 

[Lazlow]

"Er - well," Dongle said with a start, not expecting the grig's question, "If what he told me is true, then he can't have a very sizeable force in there. He's hired me to clear out the lower levels of the keep. Claimed that he'd lost several men in trying to do it himself." He scratched his chin thoughtfully, rubbing at the three-day stubble that had grown there since the journey began. "He was rather adamant about staying out of the upper levels, though. What do you know of those?"

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OOC: Great background on the Lords of Despair!

 

[Gray Shade]

He looked suspiciously at Dongle. "Do you have better wine? You said you do, but I don't see it."

 

[Lazlow]

With a raised eyebrow and pursed lips, Dongle reluctantly retrieved our bottle of Chateau duNoir. There was still a half a glass or so left in it, unfortunately, so he handed it over to the little blue creature.