ilgatto
How inconvenient
Duergar & Daemons
Part XV: Savants & Dragons
Part XV: Savants & Dragons
Night 138, continued: And so it is left to the chevalier to do the scouting himself. He advances to the intersection as stealthily as he can and has a peek around the corner to his right, to find himself staring into yet another dark passage, hewn and dug from the bedrock, unlike the main tunnel. He dashes across the tunnel to the left wall and looks around the corner there, into a similar passage but with two duergar in it some thirty feet away. These look unlike any duergar he has seen before: they stand as tall as the average human and are lithe of build, clad in black leather armor and wearing hats with exceptionally wide rims – wider even than those of the rothmen. He straightens his back and turns the corner.
“Messieurs… bonjour!,” he starts. “A moment of your time if you would be so kind! We are but simple travelers seeking passage and we put ourselves at the mercy of your suggestions! Some introductions, perhaps?”
“Drop your weapons!,” one of the duergar barks, his voice muffled by a cloth or scarf covering the lower half of his face.
“An intriguing proposal,” the chevalier returns. “And one we might consider if you would do the same, especially so since your crossbows seem to be pointing in my general direction. Messieurs, I express my concern! We would happily comply with your request in many other circumstances! We come in peace!”
“Peace?,” the duergar growls.
“We are trying to hold our own in a strange land,” the chevalier says, smiling benevolently.
“You attack our community,” the duergar says. “Surrender! Face justice!”
“A-ha-ha-ha!,” the chevalier laughs. “That would not quite appear to be what transpired at all! There we were, on a pleasant promenade when all of a sudden a wall opened and… eh, bien, the rest is history!”
“You are surrounded by a superior force! You must surrender for this reason!”
“Not at all, not at all!,” the chevalier says, gesturing magnanimously. “Mes amis! I assure you…!”
“You murder ten duergar!,” the duergar interrupts.
“Monsieur,” the chevalier says with only a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I offer you my sincerest apologies for defending our lives. Perhaps if your… confrères would have initiated the proceedings with a conversation?”
“Blood-money!,” the duergar says. “We want price of blood.”
“Ah! Le bout de l’oreille, as it were,” the chevalier says, rather more grimly. “Messieurs, there can be no question of payments. We were forced to defend ourselves. Rest assured that we will not hesitate to do so again.”
This seems to throw the two duergar for a bit.
“You want go where?,” one of them asks after some time.
“Further and beyond,” the chevalier says. “To the surface and the tower that can take us there. And trade! We have had many pleasant exchanges with many hospitable duergar on our way down here.”
“Trade!,” the duergar scoffs. “Duergar no traders! Stick’em up!”
“And to whom would I have the honor of surrendering?”
“We are the mad dwarves! The land walkers!”
“Messieurs, mes compliments! And now as to the way ahead! Does it go upward?”
“Maybe we can tell you.”
“Très bien! Extraordinaire!”
“How many are you?,” the duergar asks.
“There are a number of us,” the chevalier says reassuringly. “Four, five, six, eight, something in that order of magnitude.”
“You take passage behind you. Straight on. Out of our territory.”
“Straight on into… whose territory? If I may be so bold?”
“Five days no man’s land. Then Dragon Point.”
“Would you be so kind as to disclose whether we can expect any more traps or similar unfortunate impediments along the way?”
“Possibly. But no way to surface at Dragon Point.”
“Ach! There is no tower to the surface?”
“There is tower. But no way to surface.”
“And what about pits? Arrow slits? Bolt holes?”
“You take care and no problem.”
“And what would I be looking for, exactly?”
“Each family of clans makes own traps.”
“Judicious, prudent even! And you are?”
“I am one of the eight.”
“Do the other eight wear hats like you?”
“Yes. We are highest rank of clan.”
“A great honor!,” the chevalier says, with a slight bow of the head. “I bring regards from the surface!”
“Why are you in duergar realms?,” the duergar asks.
“We seek to contact your people. To establish friendly relations and sound trade agreements. To live in harmony.”
“Everything underground belong to duergar. You must leave all things you find.”
“Bon! Messieurs, it has been a pleasant exchange,” the chevalier says, before turning to his noble fellows around the corner. “Mes amis! Shall we?”
Duringst the meanwhile, Sir Eber has tied the giant’s hammer to a length of chain, which he intends to use as device to activate pit traps by hurling it to the ground from time to time – a ‛mine flayer’ if you like. This has taken him some time and he is rearing to go when the chevalier has finished negotiating passage with the two duergar. He and the chevalier take the lead and they cross the intersection, past the first passage right and into the next, where he starts hurling his contraption to the floor. They have not covered a yard when they notice a door in the left wall and two duergar in wide-rimmed hats appear some thirty to forty feet ahead in the light of the chevalier’s lantern.
“Bonjour!,” the chevalier hails them. “I assume that you have overheard my conversation with your kin back there?”
The duergar do not react.
Behind him, Sir Oengus and Navarre have both advanced to the intersection. When the latter hears the chevalier addressing yet more duergar in what is no doubt going to be a lengthy conversation, he decides to start one of his own with the two duergar in the other passage.
“I say, chaps,” he starts. “I couldn’t help but overhear you calling yourselves ‛mad dwarves’ and ‛land walkers’. Would I be right in assuming that you are the ones who raid the surface from time to time?”
“Maybe,” one of the duergar says.
“I see,” Navarre continues. “Then you would have a way up, what? You see, I find myself faced with a small problem of a regal nature up there. What do you say we come to some sort of agreement?”
“No deal.”
“Now look here, chaps,” Navarre says. “That just won’t do. We are all going to have to deal with what lies in the future, what with the pillar being as large as it is these days and the real possibility of an outside threat. We shall have to defend ourselves sooner or later and it won’t do if we are at each other’s throats when the time comes. By Olm! Even now a war rages above and bandits run amok!”
“What is your offer?”
“I say we start by assisting each other in small ways. To begin with, I would call upon you to aid us in dealing with a traitorous villain, say, by providing us with some way to get to the lair of the miscreant. A nocturnal operation perhaps, to lure him forth so he can be dealt with in a proper manner?”
“What do we get?”
“We have much to offer. Recognition, a profitable trade route, gold and wine as much as you can carry, weapons, military support to bring order to your realm.”
“Children?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Children.”
“I see,” Navarre replies, somewhat taken aback. “For what purpose?”
“Secret purpose,” the duergar says. “Taboo.”
“Indeed,” Navarre ventures, when he hears Sir Eber holler in the background. “Perhaps we can continue this conversation in less trying circumstances and, above all, surroundings? Dragon Point, perhaps?”
“Dragon Point? Hmm…,” the duergar says, apparently mulling over the suggestion. “Hmm… Problem. Hmm… Business proposal.”
And now both duergar start speaking to each other in their silent tongue.
“Gentlemen?,” Navarre resumes.
The duergar do not react, continuing their silent conversation.
“Well, then,” Navarre says, clearing his throat. “A pleasure, I’m sure. Perhaps another time?”
But the duergar do not speak to him again and so our noble hero heads back to his noble companions in the passage across the intersection.
Up there, the two duergar have not reacted much to the chevalier’s overtures. He and Sir Eber have advanced a bit and noticed a second door some distance from the first in the same wall. Sir Eber is presently inspecting the first door and sees that it is made of wood featuring extensive carvings of various foodstuffs and mugs. An inn? He looks at the chevalier, who has moved to the second door and is still keeping a watchful eye on the two duergar down the passage. Without further ado, the ranger starts thumping on the door.
“Hullo!,” he hollers. “Friendly folk!”
But there is no answer. Some yards ahead, the chevalier has seen the two duergar vanish and he presently has a good look at the second door, which he can only imagine to be a stable door of some kind. Behind him, it is Sir Suvali’s turn to cross the intersection with Sir Eber’s slaves, soon followed by Navarre coming from the left.
Now that everybody is in the second passage, our noble heroes decide to move on. Sir Eber hurls his hammer about for a bit, soon hitting a hollow section in the floor some ten feet after the second door.
“Pit!,” he hollers, reeling in his hammer. A closer inspection reveals the pit to take up more than half of the floor, leaving only a narrow path to safety along the right wall. Sir Eber and the chevalier, on point as agreed, start checking the walls for any arrow slits and it doesn’t take the latter long to locate one in the wall above the pit.
“Ssssh!,” he whispers, pointing at the hole. “Here is one!”
It would seem that the noble chevalier has quite forgotten about the racket Sir Eber has been making with his hammer and hollering. Indeed, as if to lend credence to the notion, the latter now starts thumping on the stable door again.
“Hullo!,” he hollers once more. “Friendly folk!”
But still no answer comes and so he opens the door to reveal a long, low, vaulted room with four low cubicles to each side. He sticks his torch into the room and inspects the wall to his left but he cannot find the arrow slit that must be there.
“Nothing here,” he yells, entering the stables to determine whether any invisible duergar lurk there. There aren’t and there are no giant spiders in the cubicles. What he does glean is that the stables have been cleared quite recently. He reports as much to his noble companions when he gets back to the passage.
“Let’s get a move on,” he adds, his hammer loosely dangling from its chain as he starts edging past the trap. When he reaches the other side, he smashes it into the floor a couple of times and quickly locates another hollow sounding section in the floor, this time against the right wall – the pits being in much the same configuration as those our noble heroes found yesterday.
“‛You take care and no problem,’ indeed,” Navarre murmurs, to no one in particular. “Treacherous lot, these duergar.”
One by one, the company inch past the pits, with Sir Suvali using some chalk to mark them – and the arrow slit – in passing.
Past the pits, the passage abruptly widens into the main tunnel again and the company continue their journey in much the same formation as yesterday, with Sir Eber and the chevalier on point this time, followed at some twenty yards by Sir Suvali, Rodlu, and Sir Eber’s slaves, and with Sir Oengus and Navarre at about the same distance again in the rear guard. The formation changes around midday, when Sir Suvali takes Sir Oengus’ place in the rear guard and he and Navarre hang back for an hour or so to see whether any of the land walkers have been following them and want to talk. But no land walkers appear and the noble duo eventually hurry back to join the others.
And so the company trudge down the tunnel for the rest of the day and make camp late in the evening.
Night 139-142: Four days pass without incident and our noble heroes find that this section of the tunnel seems to see even less traffic than usual. Indeed, for almost all of these four days, just about the only event of some interest would be the discovery of a shallow hole dug into the left wall relatively recently, which they come across on the second day.
At the end of the fourth day, the tunnel starts turning left, which is Sir Suvali’s cue to declare that the company are now somewhere between Big Beach and the Isle of Bread, which the chronicler only now realizes must be a play on the Isle of Dread – just goes to show how a good story can immerse players to such an extent that they forget even the most blatantly obvious references to reality.
Night 143: Early in the day, company notice a set of double doors in the right wall, made of stone and carved to resemble, if anything, a coffered ceiling. Without much ado, the chevalier knocks on one of the doors with a flourish.
“Most learned masters duergar!,” he calls. “We are here for an audience! Your reputation reaches far and wide and we have come a long way to make your acquaintance! To revel in your literacy!”
Three sharp whistles come from behind the doors but nothing else stirs for quite some time.
“Here’s another one!,” Sir Eber hollers from some sixty feet further down the tunnel.
The chevalier advances to the second set of doors, in which a small hatch now opens.
“A-a-a-a-a-h! Messire!,” he sings. “Une perception agréable!”
A beam of bright light shines through the hole.
“Salutations!,” he continues. “I am delighted that you have taken note of our invitation! We seek audience, oh most learned of literati!”
The hatch closes.
“I shall wait here!,” the chevalier calls.
Some twenty minutes pass before the hatch opens again.
“Ah!,” the chevalier resumes. “Bonj-ou-ou-ou-r! That was quick!”
“No,” a somewhat shrill voice comes from behind the hatch.
The hatch closes again.
“To what?,” the chevalier calls.
The hatch opens again.
“No audience,” the voice comes.
“Mon Dieu!,” the chevalier exclaims. “That was quick! No matter. Un petit entre-nous will do!”
“I am a servant,” comes the voice.
“And so are we!,” the chevalier sings. “Colleagues! Et vous êtes?”
“We are the seigneurs of Dragon Point,” the voice comes.
“A-a-a-a-h! A fortunate occurrence, for we are in possession of a volume that may interest les seigneurs of Dragon Point!”
“A book? What kind of book?”
“It is a matter for scholars,” the chevalier says solemnly. “It will only be disclosed when les érudits have convened to speak.”
The hatch closes.
Five minutes later, it opens again.
“Now that is what I would call quick,” Navarre murmurs in the background.
“We give good money for books,” the shrill voice comes. “Give us the book so that we can appraise its value and the proper coin will be handed to you.”
“Indeed?,” the chevalier says, in apparent wonder. “What languages do you speak?”
“Gaelic, the Tongue of the Underdark, Demonic,” comes the voice.
“A-a-a-a-h…,” the chevalier says, with a definite hint of regret in his voice.
“We are also interested in other languages.”
“And we are also interested in books,” Sir Suvali hollers from the back.
“We only buy books,” comes the voice.
“We seek a way to the surface,” the chevalier says, after a vexed look at the sorcerer.
“You are lost?,” the voice comes.
“C’est-à-dire…,” the chevalier starts. “We would like to go to the surface. We would appreciate your assistance.”
“I would advise you to retrace your steps,” the voice comes.
“Impossible. It would take too long. We would run into all manner of robbers and scoundrels.”
“Ah, yes. The riffraff! As a matter of fact, it is for this exact reason that we will not open the door.”
“Et voilà!,” the chevalier resumes. “We would seek your assistance. We have been told that you live in a tower that reaches all the way to the surface.”
“But without an exit to it,” the voice comes. “Your other option would be to continue on your way. You will get to the Broken Lands but much of the area has caved in. You will have difficulty finding a way through the many narrow passages and dangerous creatures lurk there. A clan of savage duergar on steeders also lives there.”
“Creatures?,” Navarre asks. “What kind of creatures?”
“Monsters.”
“Such as? Elves?”
“Xorn.”
“Gentlemen,” Navarre starts, turning to his noble companions. “I trust I need not remind you that good manners oblige us to honor the wishes of these sage gentlemen. My lords, I bid you prepare yourselves to risk life, limb, and goods and confront the ‛zorn’ in the Broken Lands…”
“We still want to see the book,” the voice comes somewhat anxiously. “We will give you something as a guarantee of return while we study it and we will compensate you if we decide to copy it.”
“We have more books than one,” Sir Suvali says.
There is a moment of silence.
“What do you require?,” the voice comes again, now in a decidedly more reasonable tone.
“A conversation,” Sir Suvali declares. “A good meal.”
“We will pledge one hundred gold to study the volume.”
“We are not interested in gold,” the sorcerer says. “This is a unique opportunity for both of us. We offer knowledge from the surface world and not all knowledge is contained in books.”
“The king is dead,” Sir Eber comes in. “You know who killed him?”
“No.”
“That, too, is something we can tell you about,” Sir Suvali says.
There is another moment of silence.
“Tradition requires that people who pass through these doors never leave again,” the voice speaks again.
“‛People’?,” the sorcerer says. “Duergar or humans?”
“Well…,” the voice hesitates. “I suppose it could be argued that humans are not actually people.”
Another moment of silence.
“Very well,” the voice speaks again. “Are you willing to sell books?”
“Certainly,” Sir Suvali says.
More silence.
“The humans are allowed to enter,” the voice says when it speaks again.
And so it was that our noble heroes left Rodlu in the tunnel and finally gained access to Dragon Point.
