JollyDoc
Explorer
Nah...the magical stuff survived. Black Jack may still rise again.
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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
JollyDoc's Curse of the Crimson Throne: Updated 1/29/10
- Thread starter JollyDoc
- Start date
Nah...the magical stuff survived. Black Jack may still rise again.
Joachim
First Post
At least some of us realised what was going as soon as we met him. Like Vader said, "All too easy..."
JollyDoc
Explorer
A HISTORY OF ASHES
The boat ride to Harse was a long one. They travelled for days northwest across the bay until they reached the Falcon River, then northeast to the point where the Falcon and the Sarwin Rivers converged. Harse lay in the spit of land between. The village itself consisted of only a few dozen buildings and a large collection of stables surrounding an open field along the northeastern edge. The majority of its citizens didn’t live in the village proper, but on one of the dozens of ranches and farms that dotted the surrounding countryside. Orisini rented enough horses for all of them, and then set out north. He told them they were going to the Blackbird Ranch, only a short ride out of town. He explained that the ranch was owned by an old friend named Jasan Adriel. He and Jasan were the last two survivors of an adventuring party known as the Blackbirds. When the group reached the ranch, Jasan and his two sons greeted them warmly. A young woman was with them, none other than Trinia Sabor. She was thrilled to see her friends and rescuers again, and the reunion temporarily alleviated some of the tension of the previous days.
Jasan led them down to the house, where his wife had prepared a pleasant and filling dinner. The conversation was light, but afterwards, Jasan invited his guests and Trinia down to his basement. There he offered them a sampling of his on home-grown beer.
“Now,” the rancher said as he took a seat in a comfortably worn chair, “there must a very good reason why you have come all this way, Vencarlo, bringing with you none other than the seneschal of Korvosa himself. I’m all ears.”
Orisini brought Jasan up to speed, and then Neolandus took over.
“When I confronted Ileosa about Eodred’s death,” the seneschal began, “her response was to send Red Mantis assassins after me, proof enough of her guilt as far as I’m concerned. Through a combination of pure luck and my intimate knowledge of the castle’s layout, I barely managed to escape with my life, and then I went into hiding with my friend Salvator in Old Korvosa.
After I recovered from the attack, I spent much of my time in the old city researching the situation by interviewing key people, poring through records at Endrin Academy, and piecing together information and rumors I had heard, to try and determine what had caused the Queen’s sudden personality shift from a petulant, spoiled brat to a scheming murderous tyrant.
My suspicions continued to grow, but until Ileosa’s first public appearance after the plague, I had always tempered them with hope. I knew that she had been ‘borrowing’ the treasury key to look through Korvosa’s holdings. I was also familiar with several old and obscure legends about the chambers below Castle Korvosa…chambers, it was whispered, that were old even when the Shoanti dwelt here, and that used to hide something of great power or evil. There was little more information to go on, but I did uncover mention in some documents from Korvosa’s earliest days of something called Midnight’s Teeth, and that these teeth were believed to be some sort of sacred relic of great import to the Shoanti. Circumstantial evidence indicated that the Shoanti kept the teeth in chambers inside the pyramid that now serves as Castle Korvosa’s foundation.
Further research uncovered an old legend that chilled my soul. Several hundred years ago, a powerful blue dragon and agent of Zon-Kuthon named Kazavon brought the orcs of Belkzen to their knees and began conquering the neighboring nations of Ustalav and Lastwall, until he was finally defeated and his remains scattered. Some of these remains, according to certain Zon-Kuthonic scriptures, contained fragments of Kazavon’s essence. One of these relics was the Fangs of Kazavon.
I now suspect that Midnight’s Teeth were none other than the Fangs of Kazavon. The description of the Queen’s new crown sounds to me as if she now wears the Fangs on her brow, the implications of which trouble me deeply.
I wasn’t able to gather much more information before the Arkonas took me, but I don’t suspect there was much more to learn. Hard facts about Midnight’s Teeth were sparse to begin with. Korvosa’s founders didn’t think it important to preserve much in the way of Shoanti culture. Yet there is still some hope. The Shoanti have very strong oral traditions, and if anyone knows the truth behind Midnight’s Teeth, that truth is doubtless hidden among their historians up in the Cinderlands.”
“Yet even this hope if a fragile one,” Orisini interrupted. “There are rumors that the Shoanti are preparing to launch an attack on Korvosa and her holdings. They’ve been emboldened by the news that the city is buckling under the effects of riots and plagues. Word from the Storval Rise is that the largest Shoanti tribe, the Sklar-Quah, is preparing for battle.”
“Yes, but even so,” Neolandus said, “all is not lost. Of all the Shoanti tribes, it has been the Skoan-Quah who have been the most open to talk of peace between Korvosa and the tribes. Until recently, a large number of Skoan-Quah ambassadors dwelt near Korvosa, and peace talks between the two factions were slowly but surely heading in the right direction. I recall one old shaman in particular as being level-headed and friendly, a man named Thousand Bones. One of the last things I tried before the Arkonas got hold of me was to arrange a meeting with him, but unfortunately, shortly after an event involving one of the Shoanti braves during the riots, the Shoanti abandoned Korvosa.”
“We know of Thousand Bones,” Ratbone said. “We also know of the incident that you speak of. We helped recover the body of the brave and returned it to Thousand Bones.”
“Excellent!” Neolandus smiled. “You should have influence with him then. I know that his tribe dwells in the southeastern portion of the Cinderlands, east of Kaer Maga in a region known as the Kallow Mounds. I believe the best course of action would be for someone to travel to the Skoan-Quah, find Thousand Bones, and learn from him any information about what Midnight’s Teeth actually were.”
“By someone,” Valeris said, “I expect you mean us.”
“Can you think of anyone more qualified?” Orisini smiled. “Besides, Neolandus and I are known fugitives. Ileosa will spare little expense in tracking us down. Her Red Mantis agents were close to discovering Neolandus in Old Korvosa, and it won’t take them long to sift through the recent events there and piece together what happened. I plan on the two of us traveling to Janderhoff. We’ll seek asylum there with the dwarves.”
“Well,” Jasan said, clapping his hands, “I expect it was about time for a move anyway. The wife’s always talked about seeing Magnimar. I hear the coast is beautiful this time of year.”
“Of course we’ll go,” Ratbone said. “If there is some way to stop the Queen, and return Korvosa to its people, then we will find it.”
“I’m going with you,” Trinia Sabor suddenly announced from where she’d been quietly listening in the back of the room. “Korvosa’s my city too, and since I’ve been staying here, I’ve taken the opportunity to learn something about the Shoanti. I’ve become pretty fluent in their language. You’re going to need a translator if you want to convince them to help.”
_________________________________________________________
Jasan provided horses for the K.I.A. agents and Trinia, and the seven companions began their long journey north and east, following the Falcon River for several days to the base of the Storval Plateau and the city of Kaer Maga. They didn’t stay long in the strange, tiered metropolis, making their way quickly through its twisting, winding streets, thick with beggars and cutpurses. The uppermost level of the city gave onto the Storval Plateau itself, and the beginning of the Cinderlands. That harsh landscape played host to a desolate backdrop of scrubland and drought, famine and death. As hot as a forge and dry as a desert, the broken flats radiated a hazy, wavering heat so tangible that it robbed the body of precious moisture in mere hours. What beasts made their homes there were deceptive and violent, while what few plants clawed their way through the cracked ground were as nourishing as rocks. It was the next best thing to Hell on Golarion.
And yet the Cinderlands were not a wasteland. The Shoanti called them home. It was towards the sacred burial grounds of the Shoanti that the company set their course. The Kallow Mounds lay at the extreme southeast limits of the Cinderlands, and as the companions drew nearer to them, they began to see large rock cairns topped with animal skulls.
“Markers,” Trinia explained. “They act as signposts…and warnings to deter strangers…like us.”
The cairns grew more frequent the deeper into the Mounds they travelled. They had grown so used to seeing them, that they almost did not notice the four figures that stood silently beside among a particularly dense group. They were men, their bodies caked with a mixture of mud and ash, giving their skin a smoky white appearance. They were adorned with multiple tattoos of bones and skulls, and they carried large earthbreaker mauls across their backs. Trinia quickly rode to the forefront of the group and began speaking in the guttural dialect of the Shoanti. The four warriors listened in silence, but when she finished speaking, they turned and began walking away.
“It’s ok,” Trinia said. “I explained that we were seeking Thousand Bones. They’ll take us to him.”
The Skoan-Quah encampment was located at the western edge of the Mounds. There, some seventy-five Shoanti filled out the enclave. All of them stood silently gathered as the seven strangers were escorted in. The tension in the air was palpable. Three people were gathered at the center of the camp, one a gaunt, yet regal man, the other an elderly woman, and the last none other than Thousand Bones himself. Behind them crouched a large, leonine creature with a distinctly draconic head. The beast appeared to have once had wings, but only jagged stumps now protruded from its shoulders. It flexed its six-inch long claws languidly as the companions approached.
“Welcome, friends,” Thousand Bones said in Common. “You are indeed welcome here, though I must admit, I am surprised by your presence.”
“We’ve come with great need,” Kat said. “We have learned disturbing news regarding Queen Ileosa, and…”
“Such discussions should be held at the proper time and place,” the old shaman interrupted. “We will speak of them this evening at the Bone Council Fire. For now, you should rest and partake of our hospitality. We have already set aside a yurt for your comfort. Before you go, allow me to introduce the chief of the Skoan-Quah, One-Life.”
He gestured to the quiet, older man, who nodded silently in turn.
“And this is Ash Dancer,” Thousand Bones indicated the woman. “She is our eldest and most experienced shaman, and leader of the boneslayers. Last, but by no means least, is Wicked-Claws.” He turned to the lion-creature. “He has been a friend to our tribe for many years.”
The company introduced themselves in turn, and then they were shown to their yurt, for some much needed rest.
Later in the afternoon, Thousand Bones came for them, eager to hear about their adventures since their last meeting. They walked with him among the cairns, stopping at last before one which the shaman informed them contained the remains of Gaekhen, the young brave the K.I.A. had returned to him. They paid their respects and then returned to the camp. When they arrived, however, the enclave was in an uproar of excitement. New visitors had arrived in the form of a half-dozen Shoanti riders bearing a travois behind them, upon which was bound what appeared to be a body. Leading the group was a towering mountain of a man, his head clean-shaven, tattoos rippling across every surface of his body, and a truly massive earthbreaker on one hand, while his other bore the skull-like, spiked shield-gauntlet called a klar that the Shoanti favored.
“You will excuse me,” Thousand Bones said. “I have to greet our guests.”
As he walked away, Trinia leaned in and said in a low voice, “They’re Sklar-Quah, Sun Clan. They’re an honor guard for the fallen brave, sent to escort him to his final resting place.”
“Yeah, well, their leader doesn’t seem happy to see us,” Valeris remarked.
The others could see what he meant. The big warrior was speaking to Thousand Bones in a raised voice and was pointing angrily at them. After a moment, he turned and strode purposefully towards them, his maul gripped tightly in his hand.
“Uh-oh,” Trinia said. “This doesn’t look good.”
Valeris gripped his own weapon, and stepped forward. Quickly, Thousand Bones stepped in front of the huge brave and began to speak.
“He’s asking him when did the Sklar-Quah become judges of who trespasses on the Kallow Mounds where the ashes of their fathers lie,” Trinia explained. When the big warrior stopped and replied curtly, she continued to translate.
“ ‘Your words change the question, Thousand Bones. These ones bring trouble to the Cinderlands, and you know it. The coming days shall reveal to us all who is right about them.’ ”
“ ‘Perhaps,’ ” Trinia translated Thousand Bone’s reply, “ ‘but not today and not here. Would you have word of Berak’s burial tainted by bloodshed get back to your Sun Shaman?’ ”
The brave paused, the cords in his neck straining, but then he exhaled and grinned.
“ ‘You misunderstand me, Thousand Bones,’ ” he said. “ ‘My grief has wounded my words. But see to it that no tshamek defiles our memories here.’ ” His smile broadened as he pulled a thin leather loop from one of his packs. “ ‘Certainly, though, guests of the Skoan-Quah must be brave to come this far. You wouldn’t mind if I tested the courage and strength of them, would you?’ ”
Thousand Bones sighed and turned to the group.
“This is Krojun Eats-What-He-Kills,” the shaman said, speaking in Common again. “He has…challenged one of you to a Sredna contest. The choice is yours.”
“What is the purpose of this contest?” Ratbone asked.
“It is a test of strength,” Thousand Bones explained. “The competitors each place a loop of leather around their heads and behind their ears. They then take turns pulling. The one who lasts longest wins.”
“If it’s a challenge he wants,” Valeris growled, “then why don’t we pit his oversized tap hammer against my steel!”
“I warn you,” Thousand Bones said, “Krojun is a hero to the Sklar-Quah, and blood spilt here will undermine the already shaky situation between our two tribes.”
“Fine!” Valeris snapped. “Then I accept his challenge. Let’s play this kids’ game.”
The rules were explained, and Valeris and Krojun crouched on all fours in front of each other after placing the loops around their heads. Each of them drew three deep breaths, during which time they grimaced and growled at one another. Though Valeris would never admit it, the huge Shoanti’s menacing visage actually shook his confidence…marginally. Then, on Thousand Bone’s signal, the contest began in earnest. Valeris snapped his head back and Krojun’s neck strained, moving a fraction of an inch forward despite the Shoanti’s best effort. Then, Krojun pulled back, but Valeris dug his fingers into the soil, grunting as he resisted. Arching his back, he pulled again, and again Krojun came forward, unable to get enough traction to pull back effectively. Valeris felt the skin behind his ears begin to crack and bleed and he redoubled his efforts, his teeth biting painfully into his lips as he strained. Krojun’s face turned blood red as he resisted, but then, just as Valeris was certain the match was over, Krojun began to snarl like an animal, foam flying from his mouth. With a horrific effort, he snapped his head back, yanking Valeris’s forward. Before he could stop himself, the duskblade was pulled face-first into the dirt. Krojun pulled the leather loop from his head and folded it back into his pack as he stood up slowly. Then, incredibly, he offered Valeris his hand, pulling the duskblade to his feet. He clapped him roughly on the shoulder and laughed heartily. He spoke something in his own tongue.
“He said that you pulled almost as well as an aurochs calf, and that you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Trinia said.
Krojun then turned and walked away, joining his men to proceed with the burial ceremony.
________________________________________________________
As night fell, Thousand Bones invited the companions to join him at the center of the camp. The majority of the other Skoan-Quah had retired early to their tents out of respect for the Bone Council Fire. The only others present besides Thousand Bones were One-Life and Ash Dancer. As Thousand Bones began to speak, Ash Dancer sprinkled the fire with a greenish-brown herbal dust from a weathered pouch she carried. A few moments later, the fumes encapsulated those gathered, causing a slight blurring of the vision and a general feeling of ease.
“You have already done my people a great favor by returning the body of one of our warriors,” Thousand Bones began. “I sense now you come to me to ask a favor in return, yet know that by doing this favor, you are helping us all. The Skoan-Quah are a peaceful people, yet we are also all but shunned by our kin. Our willingness to mix with tshamek shames many of my brothers and sisters in the other quahs. Only their respect for our tradition of guarding and protecting the dead of all Shoanti keep them from open hostility against us. My words do not reach their ears when I advise against war on Korvosa. They hear tales of the city in flames, of its king dead, of disease ravaging its people, and they see this as the time foretold. A time when the Shoanti can ride down from these burning lands and reclaim greener lands to the south, lands that were once ours. Yet war is not good for us. My brothers do not see that, even crippled, Korvosa remains a powerful enemy. It is best to make your enemies your friends, do you not think? Yet my brothers do not listen to these words. They see weakness, they demand action.
Yet you could not know of the coming war. You come to me with a different favor. Speak of what you wish of me, and perhaps we may find our needs are the same.”
“What can you tell us of Midnight’s Teeth?” Katarina asked, her words slightly slurred from the mildly intoxicating fumes.
Thousand Bones’ brow furrowed, and he appeared to be deep in thought for a moment before he answered.
“The name is not unfamiliar, yet I know little more than that I have heard it mentioned but twice by Sun Shamans of the Sklar-Quah. Always in reference to the past, and to what you now call Korvosa.”
“How can we talk to the Sun Shamans?” Ratbone asked.
“Sadly, you cannot,” Thousand Bones shook his head. You are tshamek. Outlanders. Rightful or not, the Sklar-Quah will see you as the children of those who murdered their ancestors and drove them from the green lands. The Sun Clan does not like outsiders at the best of times. And less so now that war against Korvosa is on every brave’s lips.”
“Then how can we make them see us as allies, not outsiders?” Michael inquired.
“You must understand,” Thousand Bones replied, “the Sklar-Quah are very certain of these things. They may come to respect lone tshamek after many days of seeing them act honorably, but what you ask is for the Sun Shaman to lay bare his quah’s heart. The deepest memories of his clan. These memories are not for tshamek. Not since Skurak the Reborn have the members of the Sklar-Quah unbanished a man and welcomed him into their quah.”
“Skurak?” Ratbone asked.
Thousand Bones smiled enigmatically for a brief instant.
“The legend of Skurak,” he began, “is of a great warrior and greater traitor to the Sklar-Quah. He slew his brother, a brave of even greater courage. To the Sklar-Quah, family is purity…crimes against the family are the greatest a man can commit. Although Skurak claimed the death was an accident as he and his brother were hunting, others spoke of murder spawned of jealous rage. Skurak was declared a tshamek by the Sun Shaman and cast out, but before he left, he said he would be born again and return to his tribe. This he did. He went to the killing grounds of the great Cindermaw the Clan-Eater. Skurak walked up to the beast carrying only his dagger. Without fear, he dove inside the beast and cut his way out. He returned to the clan and declared he had been reborn, and had left his misdeeds behind in the cleansing fire of Cindermaw’s belly. The legend says the Sun Shaman accepted this and Skurak’s time as a tshamek was spoken of no more.”
“What’s a ‘Cindermaw?’” Valeris asked suspiciously.
“A legend,” Thousand Bones said, “yet one of flesh and blood. Cindermaw dwells on the northernmost edge of Shoanti lands, in the place where Shoanti and orc and giant vie for life and water. His hunting grounds are known as the Feeding Grounds of the Quah-Kael, the land of the Clan Eater. The orcs of Urglin avoid this region; the giants of the north hunt only on its edges. Within, few have returned to tell tales, but those who do speak of a mountain that crawls and of fire that roars.”
“So,” Ratbone said, blowing out his breath, “are you saying that we could earn the respect of the Sklar-Quah by being eaten by Cindermaw and then escaping?”
“Perhaps,” Thousand Bones shrugged, “yet this route is more complex than you suspect. The Sklar-Quah would never believe the words of tshamek on such a matter, nor would they risk travel to the Feeding Grounds just to see foolish outlanders attempt to recreate legends. I could come with you, if my bones were not so tired, yet I am Skoan-Quah. My words would hold little light with the Sun Shaman, I fear.”
Thousand Bones grew silent for a moment, and in the lull, Ash Dancer spoke for the first time.
“They could bring a Truthspeaker.”
“A Truthspeaker?” Michael raised one eyebrow.
“There are those among our people,” Thousand Bones nodded, “who, after living lives without lie and never speaking falsehood, have earned the title of Truthspeaker. It is a rare honor, one that requires many years of chastity, of self-control, of introspection. There are Truthspeakers among the Sklar-Quah, yet that does not help you. Would that the Skoan-Quah had one. Yet the Skoan-Quah and the Sklar-Quah are not the only Shoanti in the Cinderlands. I have heard tell that the Lyrune-Quah, who dwell in the shadow of the Wyvern Mountains far to the northwest, have Truthspeakers among them. If you could perform the ritual of rebirth at the Feeding Grounds of the Quah-Kael in the presence of a Truthspeaker, his words would be all the proof you need to secure an audience with the Sklar-Quah.”
“And where would we find the Lyrune-Quah?” Ratbone asked, impatience in his voice.
“The Moon Clan are nomads,” Thousand Bones replied. “This time of year, they gather at a place sacred to them, a place called the House of the Moon at the northeasternmost edge of the Wyvern Mountains. Yet I fear that they will distrust you as tshamek as well, unless you bring to them proof of your honesty and need.”
Valeris threw up his hands in exasperation.
“Come on! This is getting more complicated than advanced transmutation!”
“What sort of proof?” Kat asked patiently, ignoring the duskblade’s outburst.
“The Lyrune-Quah are unusual among the Shoanti,” Thousand Bones said. “They do not seek enlightenment through our ancestors, but from the Song of the Spheres. They are devotees of Desna, and they trust those who worship her. Yet that trust is, alone, not enough to earn the aid of a Truthspeaker to be witness to your heroics against Cindermaw. The faithful of Desna have a tradition of exploring distant and dangerous places as a way to honor their deity, who watches over all who travel. When they reach the goal of their pilgrimage, a priest leaves a found-mark to honor his journey. One of the Lyrune-Quah’s greatest ancestors was a priest of Desna named Tanjah…their legends speak of her pilgrimage into an ancient ruin and her discovery of a potent relic sacred to Desna, a stone globe held deep within a place called the Acropolis of the Thrallkeepers. Those who follow Tanjah’s footsteps and seek her found-mark upon this globe are said to be given the Spherewalker’s Mark, and with this mark, the Lyrune-Quah would welcome into their camp even their most bitter rivals.”
“So let me get this straight,” Valeris said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “We have to ask a Sun Shaman about Midnight’s Teeth, but he won’t speak to us because we’re outsiders. In order to not be outsiders, we have to get eaten by a giant worm and somehow come back out again, but even that won’t be good enough unless we can convince him that we really did what we said. BUT…in order to do THAT we have to find the Moon Clan and talk one of their Truthspeakers into coming along and watch us get eaten by the giant worm. BUT…in order to do THAT, we’ve got to first find some ancient ruin, find a big rock inside, and get some sort of tattoo from it, THEN we can go find the Moon Clan and do all the rest. That about sum things up?”
“Just so,” Thousand Bones smiled.
“Where is the Acropolis?” Kat asked.
“It is a ruin left over from an ancient time,” Thousand Bones answered. “A time when great powers ruled over this land. We speak of these ancient lords only in whispers today, but you may know their mark by the Sihedron, the seven-pointed star. I know not what perils await you within the Acropolis, but its location is not unknown to the Skoan-Quah. When you are ready to leave, I shall send with you four boneslayers to lead you there.”
“We thank you for all of your help and advice,” Kat said.
“You are doing us a service as well,” Thousand Bones said. “By convincing the Sklar-Quah you are friends, that you represent Korvosa, and that war is not in anyone’s best interest. This will save both our peoples needless pain and grief. If you can earn their trust and respect enough to learn from them the secret of what their ancestors watched over before the outlanders drove them away, they will listen to your words and see the wisdom there. This is all I ask, and it benefits you as well.”
__________________________________________________________
The following morning, Thousand Bones saw that the company was provisioned against the dangers of the Cinderlands. The same four boneslayers that guided them into the camp waited for them at its edge. Thousand Bones introduced them as Ahalak, Hargev, Nalmid, and Shadfrar. The guides said nothing, simply nodding and then turning for the deep Cinderlands.
The journey was sweltering, monotonous, and surreal. The boneslayers never spoke, and seemed to take the odd sights and sounds of the Cinderlands for granted…up to a point. Three days had passed when the hunters abruptly came to a stop. They stood looking up the side of a low hill, their faces grim. The agents followed their gaze. Protruding from a cleft between two rocks was a sharp wooden pole. Mounted atop it was the rotting head of a Shoanti man, hung in such a way that it almost resembled a flag on the side of a building.
“What is it?” Ratbone asked.
The warriors didn’t answer. Trinia spoke to them in their own language, and Ahalak replied in clipped, angry words.
“He says it’s the head of a Sklar-Quah, but it was placed here by a ‘tshamek devil’ they call the Cinderlander. He says that this man has stalked the Cinderlands for the past several years. He never attacks large groups, but instead targets only lone braves with a strange, sideways screaming bow. They believe he is the unquiet ghost of a Korvosan general who hunts the land, and will continue to slay Shoanti until his victims equal those the Shoanti took from him.”
Ahalak quickly scaled the hill and retrieved the grisly trophy, plucking two red bolts from its eyes. Later that evening, the four boneslayers conducted a private ceremony in which they burned the head, scattered the ashes, and buried the skull under a cairn of rocks.
___________________________________________________________
The next day, Ratbone announced that he was leaving the group.
“Just for a short time,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I was born in the Cinderlands. My father’s tribe lived north of here, in the mountains. I need…to pay my respects. I’ll join you at the Acropolis.”
Nothing they said could change his mind, and as they watched, the druid morphed into a great bird and winged his way into the ash gray sky.
By late afternoon, the sky had darkened further, and strange clouds gathered on a blood red horizon. The boneslayers paused again and gazed suspiciously at the coming storm, testing the air with their noses. At length, Ahalak spoke.
“He says it’s an emberstorm,” Trinia translated. “It’s like a sandstorm made of burning ash. Not something we want to be caught out in.”
Ahalak pointed towards the nearby foothills and spoke again.
“He says the Acropolis is just there,” Trinia said. “If we hurry, we can make it before the storm hits.”
A partially collapsed tower that bore the mark of a seven-pointed star stood atop a stone outcropping. Just beside the strange mark, a pair of wide stone doors stood ajar. The boneslayers didn’t hesitate, and ducked quickly through the portals. Once inside, the companions found themselves at the head of a steep, broad stair that descended into darkness. The walls were black granite, flecked with blood-red deposits of rock crystal. Intricate rune patterns of strange writing decorated the walls, interrupted at intervals by the ubiquitous seven-pointed star.
“These runes are Thassilonian,” Kat said, marveling. “This mark is the Sihedron Rune, the mark of the ancient Runelords of ancient Thassilon. The writings speak of Runelord Karzoug, and the rune goddess Lissala.”
“Fabulous,” Valeris said. “This deal just keeps getting better and better.”
At the bottom of the stairs, a corridor opened into a massive chamber. The air in the cathedral-like space seemed strangely cool. The ceiling vaulted into the shadows above, while the walls were carved with vertical ridges that rose to support the arch above. A narrow balcony circled the room, the floor of which dropped into a pool of dark water. A bridge crossed the pool down the room’s center, and two large stone doors stood in the walls to the south and east. Smaller doors sat in the walls to the northwest and southwest…all four of the portals bore the depiction of the Sihedron. Ahalak stopped at the bottom of the stairs and dropped to one knee, staring intently at the floor. After a moment, he spoke, and pointed towards the small door to the southwest.
“He’s found tracks,” Trinia said softly. “Two people passed this way recently. He says they went through that door.”
Carefully, the group approached the door. Kat examined it closely, then reached out and touched the Sihedron symbol. Slowly, the door slid up into the ceiling, revealing a long, plain hallway with narrow gaps piercing the wall facing the pool chamber, acting as a hidden observation gallery. Two figures stood halfway down the passage. They turned as the door opened. One was a distinguished looking older man dressed in heavy black robes. The second was female, but not human. Her skin was as pale as bone, her eyes red as fire. Slender horns protruded from her forehead, and she was naked save for spiked chains that wrapped around her body like a second skin.
“Well now, this is inconvenient,” the man said.
“Who are you, and why are you here?” Kat demanded. The boneslayers gripped their earthbreaker mauls tightly. “Speak quickly!”
“Of course,” the man said. “There is no need for violence. I am Shadowcount Sial, and this is my associate Asyra. We are accomplices of Laori Vaus. I trust you remember her?”
“Well, well,” Valeris said. “Isn’t this getting interesting?”
“Laori reported your efforts in Old Korvosa to our organization,” Sial continued. “I have been…observing you for some time now.”
“You mean spying on us!” O’Reginald snapped.
Sial shrugged. “I was simply gathering information. You see, I represent a group of scholars and historians within the church of Zon-Kuthon. We may have need of the services of such an esteemed group as yourselves, but first we must make be certain of your methods. I humbly request that you allow us to accompany you as silent observers. You have my word that we will not interfere with your quest in any way.”
The boneslayers began speaking at once, their voices raised in anger.
“They don’t like them,” Trinia said. “They are warning us…strongly…not to trust them.”
“How quaint,” Sial said, his voice dripping disdain. “Your primitives speak for you?”
“Watch your mouth!” Valeris said.
“My apologies,” Sial said. “I’m just not accustomed to servants being so…outspoken.”
“They’re not our servants,” Kat said. “They are allies, and if you want to be the same, you’ll show some respect.”
Sial nodded silently.
“Fine,” Kat continued. “We can’t keep you from following us without killing you, and I’d prefer to keep my eyes on you, but be warned, if you step out of line even once, we’ll end this partnership…permanently.”
“Understood,” Sial smiled.
_______________________________________________________
Beyond the gallery hall, the ever-growing group came upon a strange sight. The floor of the otherwise empty chamber contained a five-foot diameter hole in the center, surrounded by a ring of wavy runes. Inside the hole, a shaft filled with brilliant emerald light dropped into the depths. A smaller room opened off the chamber, as did a second observation gallery. Within the smaller room, a strange, bronze statue stood. It depicted a half-snake, half-human creature with the lower body of a serpent coiled about a stand and the upper torso of a slender human woman. Her hands were crossed over her chest to clutch two objects at her shoulders…the right hand held a large quill, while the left held a jade-handled whip. Six bird-like wings emerged from the torso’s shoulders, and instead of a head, it had a disk bearing the seven-pointed star of the Sihedron. A line of jade runes ran down the statue’s belly and along the length of its snaky lower body.
“Lissala, the goddess of runes,” Sial said.
“One of the former patrons of ancient Thassilon,” Kat agreed. “I have studied Thassilonian, but these runes are nonsensical. Perhaps a spell or incantation of some sort.”
The beguiler approached the statue and began to examine it more closely, sliding her hands over its surface. When she reached the base, she noticed a hair-thin seam there…a concealed drawer. Her fingers working nimbly, she depressed a hidden latch, causing the drawer to slide open. Inside was a large circular frame that contained several wedge-shaped metal plates, each punched with its own intricate design. Each plate appeared to slide perfectly over or under the two adjacent plates along the outer ring.
“Hmm,” Kat mused as she held the frame in front of her. Then she walked quickly back into the first chamber and stood next to the illuminated hole. She kneeled down and placed the frame over the hole. It fit perfectly. Her face intent, Kat began to slide the plates over and under each other. As she did so, the light from the shaft below shone through the openings and began to create a pattern on the ceiling. When she slid the last one into place, it was obvious to all that she had created a map…a map of the truly massive complex that the Acropolis was once a part of.
“I’m impressed,” Sial said, smiling. “Laori did not speak falsely when she told of your talents. I think we shall indeed have much to talk about.”
Though the map was interesting, it was also outdated. Much of the areas it revealed had been destroyed over time. It seemed only a few rooms remained of the original structure. Kat left the frame in place as the group moved on through the next gallery to explore those other chambers. The second gallery opened onto a perpendicular hallway that seemed to join the two sides of the Acropolis that bounded the central chamber. Along the hall, the company came to a point with two large double doors on either side. It seemed reasonable that the western door would lead back to the central chamber. From the map, Kat knew that another room lay to the east. When she opened that door, she beheld a truly wondrous sight. The walls were decorated with six life-sized bas-relief carvings that depicted a diverse collection of priests, each adorned in billowing robes draped in Thassilonian runes. An intricate scripture wound around each carving, coiling around them and along the walls like an immensely long tangle of ribbons.
“So what do you make of this, then?” Sial asked Kat, interest gleaming in his eyes.
“I don’t recognize the carvings,” Kat replied, “but the writings are Thassilonian.”
“The carvings represent the upper tier clergy of Lissala, unless I miss my guess,” Sial offered.
Kat looked at him suspiciously. She turned and began reading the scripture.
“It seems to be a warning of some sort,” she said. “Something about a dire peril that lies within the heart of the Acropolis. It’s going to take me a bit to read it all…not long…perhaps five minutes…”
_______________________________________________________
An hour later, she was still reading.
“Come on!” Valeris groaned. “Don’t you know what the danger is yet?”
“Just a bit longer,” Kat said distractedly.
Valeris rolled his eyes and stalked towards the doors. He depressed the Sihedron Rune there, as the doors had closed again on their own after only a minute of being open. He stepped out into the hall, and Herc followed, the big mercenary having grown restless as well. Valeris reached to open the doors across the hall, when suddenly they slid upwards of their own accord. Standing on the other side was Krojun, and three of his Sklar-Quah thundercallers. The boneslayers tensed, their hands gripping their weapons. The big barbarian nodded stoically and spoke curtly.
“He’s warning us that this is a bad place, and we shouldn’t be here,” Trinia translated.
“Then what’s he doing here?” Valeris sneered. Trinia asked the question.
“He says that he and his braves took shelter here to wait out the emberstorm,” Trinia said after Krojun had replied. “Now he wants to know what we’re doing here.”
“Tell him,” Michael shrugged. When Trinia complied, Krojun snorted derisively, and barked out a response.
“He says we’re no better than the ‘star-gazing Lyrune-Quah,’” Trinia said. Krojun then leaned forward and fairly growled his next question into Valeris’s face.
“He’s demanding to know what, exactly, we’re doing in the Cinderlands,” Trinia said quietly. Once again, Michael nodded for her to explain. When she did, Krojun folded his arms across his chest, and grunted. He spoke briefly, his tone dripping disdain.
“He says that the Sun Shamans of the Sklar-Quah have nothing to say to tshamek,” Trinia said.
“I guess we’ll just have to see about that then, won’t we?” Michael smiled, and then he turned back towards Kat.
________________________________________________________
Another hour passed as Kat continued reading the scriptures, unhurried by the constant grousing of Valeris. Krojun and his band grew quickly bored and began wandering around the main hall. At one point, they came upon a carving of a buxom mermaid, and began hooting and whistling as they made lewd gestures. When that grew tiresome, they took to skipping stones across the twin pools of dark water.
“Let’s go keep an eye on these bumpkins,” Valeris said to Herc. “At least it’ll give us something to do.”
The two went to the bridge which spanned the center of the room. From there they could see the Sklar-Quah clearly on the far side of the pool. Herc crouched down and peered into the black liquid.
“How deep do you think it is?” he asked.
Valeris shrugged. “One way to find out.” He pulled out a length of rope and tied a rock to it. He then whirled it several times around and cast it out over the water. The stone landed heavily, and sank quickly. Valeris began hauling it back towards him. As he did so, the entire structure suddenly shook slightly. The waters of the pool sloshed and churned as if something huge had just shifted below the surface. He dropped the rope and he and Herc began to back away from the pool, but as they did so, movement flickered at the corners of their vision on both sides. They turned, weapons leaving their sheaths, just as a half-dozen Red Mantis assassins appeared from the shadows, surrounding them on both sides.
“They’ve found us!” Herc shouted in warning, praying his voice would carry to his companions.
In an instant, the assassins were upon them, whirling saw-toothed sabers in their hands. In rapid succession, three of them struck at Valeris, their blades slashing him viciously before he could even raise his own sword in defense. His eyes went wide as he collapsed to one knee, blood pouring from multiple wounds, and also from his mouth. His eyes locked with Herc’s briefly before they went dim, and he fell heavily to his side.
“No!” Herc shouted. He lowered his shield and rushed forward, attempting to bull his way through the killers, but they were too skilled and too many. All of them turned their attention to him, and the big warrior knew that it would not be long before his joined his friend in death.
O’Reginald was the first to hear Herc’s warning. The wizard rushed through the doors just as Valeris went down. To his amazement, Krojun and his warriors were watching the battle and actually placing bets with each other! Several coins changed hands when Valeris collapsed, and Krojun chuckled, shaking his head. O’Reginald silently vowed to see that they paid more than coins when this was over. He turned back as Herc struggled to free himself. He closed his eyes and spoke his spell quickly, yanking the mercenary across dimensional boundaries to reappear at his side seconds later. He turned to help his friend, but saw that Sial was already there.
“I have him,” the priest said, and as he laid his hands upon Herc, the warrior’s wounds began to close and heal. O’Reginald nodded his grudging gratitude, then turned back to the room where Kat was still reading.
“Kat!” he shouted. “We could use some help out here!”
Katarina heard the sounds of combat, and she also heard O’Reginald’s calls, yet she could not pull herself away from the ancient writing. Something inside her kept telling her that she was so very near to discovering the secret…she just needed a little more time.
‘No!’ she told herself. Something was wrong. Why couldn’t she simply stop reading and come back to it? With an effort of will that nearly caused her to swoon, she wrenched her eyes away from the script. In that instant, she realized with horror that the writings had been so much nonsense. It had been a trap all along! Cursing herself, she hurried across the room and looked out at the scene unfolding. The Red Mantis killers were regrouping, preparing to close on Herc and O’Reginald. The four Skoan-Quah boneslayers were moving out to meet them.
“Stop!” she shouted, knowing full well that the Shoanti stood no chance against the brutally efficient assassins, but the honor of the braves would not let them retreat when their charges were in danger. Kat began to cast, and before the Red Mantis could leave the bridge, she filled it with a billowing cloud of fog, but it was no ordinary mist. It had the consistency of quicksand, and the assassins suddenly found themselves unable to move at more than a crawl.
“Now!” Kat shouted to O’Reginald, for the two wizards had practiced this particular combination of spells for just such a contingency.
O’Reginald grinned evilly and began his own spell. Within moments, a cluster of writhing, black tentacles sprouted within the fog bank, and quickly entwined every one of the killers. The wizard had one last trick up his sleeve, and he hurled a ball of fire into the mix. It exploded spectacularly, but astonishingly, grappled though they were, all but one of the assassins managed to evade the brunt of the blast. The unlucky individual who did not was burned to ash on the spot.
The tide of battle had certainly turned. The Red Mantis were trapped, and it would only be a matter of time before the tentacles squeezed them all to death. O’Reginald nodded in satisfaction, but as he turned away from the battle, he heard one of the boneslayers shout a warning. When he turned back, he first thought that something had gone awry with his spell, for protruding from the water nearby were several long, rubbery tentacles. On closer inspection, however, the wizard saw that the greenish-black appendages were studded with bumpy nodules, and as he stood there, mouth agape, the nodules opened, revealing reptilian eyes. All of those gathered around the pool recoiled in horror, or, in the case of the Red Mantis, tried to. One of the tentacles suddenly whipped out and snatched one of the assassins from the grip of O’Reginald’s spell, then crushed the man with a slight flex of its coils, dropping him limply into the pool. Another struck at Krojun and wrapped around the barbarian’s leg. With a shrill war cry, the nearest thundercaller whirled a longspear around his head, causing it to emit an ululating whistle through the holes in its blade. He brought the tip of the spear down on the tentacle, pinning it to the ground. A moment later, Krojun raised his maul and crushed the appendage, causing it to release him and slither back into the pool. Yet more tentacles continued to emerge. One grabbed Hargev, one of the Skoan-Quah boneslayers, and lifted the man screaming into the air. His cries were abruptly cut short as his spine snapped.
Chaos erupted in the central chamber. As O’Reginald watched, the remaining Red Mantis were killed off one-by-one, either by his tentacles, or by the alien ones from the pool. One of Krojun’s thundercallers was seized by another tentacle, and Krojun rushed to his side. Nalmid, another boneslayer, died quickly as his neck was broken. Still more tentacles emerged. No one could move for fear of being snatched. O’Reginald wondered how long it would be before they all joined Valeris. Where was Ratbone when you needed him?
The boat ride to Harse was a long one. They travelled for days northwest across the bay until they reached the Falcon River, then northeast to the point where the Falcon and the Sarwin Rivers converged. Harse lay in the spit of land between. The village itself consisted of only a few dozen buildings and a large collection of stables surrounding an open field along the northeastern edge. The majority of its citizens didn’t live in the village proper, but on one of the dozens of ranches and farms that dotted the surrounding countryside. Orisini rented enough horses for all of them, and then set out north. He told them they were going to the Blackbird Ranch, only a short ride out of town. He explained that the ranch was owned by an old friend named Jasan Adriel. He and Jasan were the last two survivors of an adventuring party known as the Blackbirds. When the group reached the ranch, Jasan and his two sons greeted them warmly. A young woman was with them, none other than Trinia Sabor. She was thrilled to see her friends and rescuers again, and the reunion temporarily alleviated some of the tension of the previous days.
Jasan led them down to the house, where his wife had prepared a pleasant and filling dinner. The conversation was light, but afterwards, Jasan invited his guests and Trinia down to his basement. There he offered them a sampling of his on home-grown beer.
“Now,” the rancher said as he took a seat in a comfortably worn chair, “there must a very good reason why you have come all this way, Vencarlo, bringing with you none other than the seneschal of Korvosa himself. I’m all ears.”
Orisini brought Jasan up to speed, and then Neolandus took over.
“When I confronted Ileosa about Eodred’s death,” the seneschal began, “her response was to send Red Mantis assassins after me, proof enough of her guilt as far as I’m concerned. Through a combination of pure luck and my intimate knowledge of the castle’s layout, I barely managed to escape with my life, and then I went into hiding with my friend Salvator in Old Korvosa.
After I recovered from the attack, I spent much of my time in the old city researching the situation by interviewing key people, poring through records at Endrin Academy, and piecing together information and rumors I had heard, to try and determine what had caused the Queen’s sudden personality shift from a petulant, spoiled brat to a scheming murderous tyrant.
My suspicions continued to grow, but until Ileosa’s first public appearance after the plague, I had always tempered them with hope. I knew that she had been ‘borrowing’ the treasury key to look through Korvosa’s holdings. I was also familiar with several old and obscure legends about the chambers below Castle Korvosa…chambers, it was whispered, that were old even when the Shoanti dwelt here, and that used to hide something of great power or evil. There was little more information to go on, but I did uncover mention in some documents from Korvosa’s earliest days of something called Midnight’s Teeth, and that these teeth were believed to be some sort of sacred relic of great import to the Shoanti. Circumstantial evidence indicated that the Shoanti kept the teeth in chambers inside the pyramid that now serves as Castle Korvosa’s foundation.
Further research uncovered an old legend that chilled my soul. Several hundred years ago, a powerful blue dragon and agent of Zon-Kuthon named Kazavon brought the orcs of Belkzen to their knees and began conquering the neighboring nations of Ustalav and Lastwall, until he was finally defeated and his remains scattered. Some of these remains, according to certain Zon-Kuthonic scriptures, contained fragments of Kazavon’s essence. One of these relics was the Fangs of Kazavon.
I now suspect that Midnight’s Teeth were none other than the Fangs of Kazavon. The description of the Queen’s new crown sounds to me as if she now wears the Fangs on her brow, the implications of which trouble me deeply.
I wasn’t able to gather much more information before the Arkonas took me, but I don’t suspect there was much more to learn. Hard facts about Midnight’s Teeth were sparse to begin with. Korvosa’s founders didn’t think it important to preserve much in the way of Shoanti culture. Yet there is still some hope. The Shoanti have very strong oral traditions, and if anyone knows the truth behind Midnight’s Teeth, that truth is doubtless hidden among their historians up in the Cinderlands.”
“Yet even this hope if a fragile one,” Orisini interrupted. “There are rumors that the Shoanti are preparing to launch an attack on Korvosa and her holdings. They’ve been emboldened by the news that the city is buckling under the effects of riots and plagues. Word from the Storval Rise is that the largest Shoanti tribe, the Sklar-Quah, is preparing for battle.”
“Yes, but even so,” Neolandus said, “all is not lost. Of all the Shoanti tribes, it has been the Skoan-Quah who have been the most open to talk of peace between Korvosa and the tribes. Until recently, a large number of Skoan-Quah ambassadors dwelt near Korvosa, and peace talks between the two factions were slowly but surely heading in the right direction. I recall one old shaman in particular as being level-headed and friendly, a man named Thousand Bones. One of the last things I tried before the Arkonas got hold of me was to arrange a meeting with him, but unfortunately, shortly after an event involving one of the Shoanti braves during the riots, the Shoanti abandoned Korvosa.”
“We know of Thousand Bones,” Ratbone said. “We also know of the incident that you speak of. We helped recover the body of the brave and returned it to Thousand Bones.”
“Excellent!” Neolandus smiled. “You should have influence with him then. I know that his tribe dwells in the southeastern portion of the Cinderlands, east of Kaer Maga in a region known as the Kallow Mounds. I believe the best course of action would be for someone to travel to the Skoan-Quah, find Thousand Bones, and learn from him any information about what Midnight’s Teeth actually were.”
“By someone,” Valeris said, “I expect you mean us.”
“Can you think of anyone more qualified?” Orisini smiled. “Besides, Neolandus and I are known fugitives. Ileosa will spare little expense in tracking us down. Her Red Mantis agents were close to discovering Neolandus in Old Korvosa, and it won’t take them long to sift through the recent events there and piece together what happened. I plan on the two of us traveling to Janderhoff. We’ll seek asylum there with the dwarves.”
“Well,” Jasan said, clapping his hands, “I expect it was about time for a move anyway. The wife’s always talked about seeing Magnimar. I hear the coast is beautiful this time of year.”
“Of course we’ll go,” Ratbone said. “If there is some way to stop the Queen, and return Korvosa to its people, then we will find it.”
“I’m going with you,” Trinia Sabor suddenly announced from where she’d been quietly listening in the back of the room. “Korvosa’s my city too, and since I’ve been staying here, I’ve taken the opportunity to learn something about the Shoanti. I’ve become pretty fluent in their language. You’re going to need a translator if you want to convince them to help.”
_________________________________________________________
Jasan provided horses for the K.I.A. agents and Trinia, and the seven companions began their long journey north and east, following the Falcon River for several days to the base of the Storval Plateau and the city of Kaer Maga. They didn’t stay long in the strange, tiered metropolis, making their way quickly through its twisting, winding streets, thick with beggars and cutpurses. The uppermost level of the city gave onto the Storval Plateau itself, and the beginning of the Cinderlands. That harsh landscape played host to a desolate backdrop of scrubland and drought, famine and death. As hot as a forge and dry as a desert, the broken flats radiated a hazy, wavering heat so tangible that it robbed the body of precious moisture in mere hours. What beasts made their homes there were deceptive and violent, while what few plants clawed their way through the cracked ground were as nourishing as rocks. It was the next best thing to Hell on Golarion.
And yet the Cinderlands were not a wasteland. The Shoanti called them home. It was towards the sacred burial grounds of the Shoanti that the company set their course. The Kallow Mounds lay at the extreme southeast limits of the Cinderlands, and as the companions drew nearer to them, they began to see large rock cairns topped with animal skulls.
“Markers,” Trinia explained. “They act as signposts…and warnings to deter strangers…like us.”
The cairns grew more frequent the deeper into the Mounds they travelled. They had grown so used to seeing them, that they almost did not notice the four figures that stood silently beside among a particularly dense group. They were men, their bodies caked with a mixture of mud and ash, giving their skin a smoky white appearance. They were adorned with multiple tattoos of bones and skulls, and they carried large earthbreaker mauls across their backs. Trinia quickly rode to the forefront of the group and began speaking in the guttural dialect of the Shoanti. The four warriors listened in silence, but when she finished speaking, they turned and began walking away.
“It’s ok,” Trinia said. “I explained that we were seeking Thousand Bones. They’ll take us to him.”
The Skoan-Quah encampment was located at the western edge of the Mounds. There, some seventy-five Shoanti filled out the enclave. All of them stood silently gathered as the seven strangers were escorted in. The tension in the air was palpable. Three people were gathered at the center of the camp, one a gaunt, yet regal man, the other an elderly woman, and the last none other than Thousand Bones himself. Behind them crouched a large, leonine creature with a distinctly draconic head. The beast appeared to have once had wings, but only jagged stumps now protruded from its shoulders. It flexed its six-inch long claws languidly as the companions approached.
“Welcome, friends,” Thousand Bones said in Common. “You are indeed welcome here, though I must admit, I am surprised by your presence.”
“We’ve come with great need,” Kat said. “We have learned disturbing news regarding Queen Ileosa, and…”
“Such discussions should be held at the proper time and place,” the old shaman interrupted. “We will speak of them this evening at the Bone Council Fire. For now, you should rest and partake of our hospitality. We have already set aside a yurt for your comfort. Before you go, allow me to introduce the chief of the Skoan-Quah, One-Life.”
He gestured to the quiet, older man, who nodded silently in turn.
“And this is Ash Dancer,” Thousand Bones indicated the woman. “She is our eldest and most experienced shaman, and leader of the boneslayers. Last, but by no means least, is Wicked-Claws.” He turned to the lion-creature. “He has been a friend to our tribe for many years.”
The company introduced themselves in turn, and then they were shown to their yurt, for some much needed rest.
Later in the afternoon, Thousand Bones came for them, eager to hear about their adventures since their last meeting. They walked with him among the cairns, stopping at last before one which the shaman informed them contained the remains of Gaekhen, the young brave the K.I.A. had returned to him. They paid their respects and then returned to the camp. When they arrived, however, the enclave was in an uproar of excitement. New visitors had arrived in the form of a half-dozen Shoanti riders bearing a travois behind them, upon which was bound what appeared to be a body. Leading the group was a towering mountain of a man, his head clean-shaven, tattoos rippling across every surface of his body, and a truly massive earthbreaker on one hand, while his other bore the skull-like, spiked shield-gauntlet called a klar that the Shoanti favored.
“You will excuse me,” Thousand Bones said. “I have to greet our guests.”
As he walked away, Trinia leaned in and said in a low voice, “They’re Sklar-Quah, Sun Clan. They’re an honor guard for the fallen brave, sent to escort him to his final resting place.”
“Yeah, well, their leader doesn’t seem happy to see us,” Valeris remarked.
The others could see what he meant. The big warrior was speaking to Thousand Bones in a raised voice and was pointing angrily at them. After a moment, he turned and strode purposefully towards them, his maul gripped tightly in his hand.
“Uh-oh,” Trinia said. “This doesn’t look good.”
Valeris gripped his own weapon, and stepped forward. Quickly, Thousand Bones stepped in front of the huge brave and began to speak.
“He’s asking him when did the Sklar-Quah become judges of who trespasses on the Kallow Mounds where the ashes of their fathers lie,” Trinia explained. When the big warrior stopped and replied curtly, she continued to translate.
“ ‘Your words change the question, Thousand Bones. These ones bring trouble to the Cinderlands, and you know it. The coming days shall reveal to us all who is right about them.’ ”
“ ‘Perhaps,’ ” Trinia translated Thousand Bone’s reply, “ ‘but not today and not here. Would you have word of Berak’s burial tainted by bloodshed get back to your Sun Shaman?’ ”
The brave paused, the cords in his neck straining, but then he exhaled and grinned.
“ ‘You misunderstand me, Thousand Bones,’ ” he said. “ ‘My grief has wounded my words. But see to it that no tshamek defiles our memories here.’ ” His smile broadened as he pulled a thin leather loop from one of his packs. “ ‘Certainly, though, guests of the Skoan-Quah must be brave to come this far. You wouldn’t mind if I tested the courage and strength of them, would you?’ ”
Thousand Bones sighed and turned to the group.
“This is Krojun Eats-What-He-Kills,” the shaman said, speaking in Common again. “He has…challenged one of you to a Sredna contest. The choice is yours.”
“What is the purpose of this contest?” Ratbone asked.
“It is a test of strength,” Thousand Bones explained. “The competitors each place a loop of leather around their heads and behind their ears. They then take turns pulling. The one who lasts longest wins.”
“If it’s a challenge he wants,” Valeris growled, “then why don’t we pit his oversized tap hammer against my steel!”
“I warn you,” Thousand Bones said, “Krojun is a hero to the Sklar-Quah, and blood spilt here will undermine the already shaky situation between our two tribes.”
“Fine!” Valeris snapped. “Then I accept his challenge. Let’s play this kids’ game.”
The rules were explained, and Valeris and Krojun crouched on all fours in front of each other after placing the loops around their heads. Each of them drew three deep breaths, during which time they grimaced and growled at one another. Though Valeris would never admit it, the huge Shoanti’s menacing visage actually shook his confidence…marginally. Then, on Thousand Bone’s signal, the contest began in earnest. Valeris snapped his head back and Krojun’s neck strained, moving a fraction of an inch forward despite the Shoanti’s best effort. Then, Krojun pulled back, but Valeris dug his fingers into the soil, grunting as he resisted. Arching his back, he pulled again, and again Krojun came forward, unable to get enough traction to pull back effectively. Valeris felt the skin behind his ears begin to crack and bleed and he redoubled his efforts, his teeth biting painfully into his lips as he strained. Krojun’s face turned blood red as he resisted, but then, just as Valeris was certain the match was over, Krojun began to snarl like an animal, foam flying from his mouth. With a horrific effort, he snapped his head back, yanking Valeris’s forward. Before he could stop himself, the duskblade was pulled face-first into the dirt. Krojun pulled the leather loop from his head and folded it back into his pack as he stood up slowly. Then, incredibly, he offered Valeris his hand, pulling the duskblade to his feet. He clapped him roughly on the shoulder and laughed heartily. He spoke something in his own tongue.
“He said that you pulled almost as well as an aurochs calf, and that you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Trinia said.
Krojun then turned and walked away, joining his men to proceed with the burial ceremony.
________________________________________________________
As night fell, Thousand Bones invited the companions to join him at the center of the camp. The majority of the other Skoan-Quah had retired early to their tents out of respect for the Bone Council Fire. The only others present besides Thousand Bones were One-Life and Ash Dancer. As Thousand Bones began to speak, Ash Dancer sprinkled the fire with a greenish-brown herbal dust from a weathered pouch she carried. A few moments later, the fumes encapsulated those gathered, causing a slight blurring of the vision and a general feeling of ease.
“You have already done my people a great favor by returning the body of one of our warriors,” Thousand Bones began. “I sense now you come to me to ask a favor in return, yet know that by doing this favor, you are helping us all. The Skoan-Quah are a peaceful people, yet we are also all but shunned by our kin. Our willingness to mix with tshamek shames many of my brothers and sisters in the other quahs. Only their respect for our tradition of guarding and protecting the dead of all Shoanti keep them from open hostility against us. My words do not reach their ears when I advise against war on Korvosa. They hear tales of the city in flames, of its king dead, of disease ravaging its people, and they see this as the time foretold. A time when the Shoanti can ride down from these burning lands and reclaim greener lands to the south, lands that were once ours. Yet war is not good for us. My brothers do not see that, even crippled, Korvosa remains a powerful enemy. It is best to make your enemies your friends, do you not think? Yet my brothers do not listen to these words. They see weakness, they demand action.
Yet you could not know of the coming war. You come to me with a different favor. Speak of what you wish of me, and perhaps we may find our needs are the same.”
“What can you tell us of Midnight’s Teeth?” Katarina asked, her words slightly slurred from the mildly intoxicating fumes.
Thousand Bones’ brow furrowed, and he appeared to be deep in thought for a moment before he answered.
“The name is not unfamiliar, yet I know little more than that I have heard it mentioned but twice by Sun Shamans of the Sklar-Quah. Always in reference to the past, and to what you now call Korvosa.”
“How can we talk to the Sun Shamans?” Ratbone asked.
“Sadly, you cannot,” Thousand Bones shook his head. You are tshamek. Outlanders. Rightful or not, the Sklar-Quah will see you as the children of those who murdered their ancestors and drove them from the green lands. The Sun Clan does not like outsiders at the best of times. And less so now that war against Korvosa is on every brave’s lips.”
“Then how can we make them see us as allies, not outsiders?” Michael inquired.
“You must understand,” Thousand Bones replied, “the Sklar-Quah are very certain of these things. They may come to respect lone tshamek after many days of seeing them act honorably, but what you ask is for the Sun Shaman to lay bare his quah’s heart. The deepest memories of his clan. These memories are not for tshamek. Not since Skurak the Reborn have the members of the Sklar-Quah unbanished a man and welcomed him into their quah.”
“Skurak?” Ratbone asked.
Thousand Bones smiled enigmatically for a brief instant.
“The legend of Skurak,” he began, “is of a great warrior and greater traitor to the Sklar-Quah. He slew his brother, a brave of even greater courage. To the Sklar-Quah, family is purity…crimes against the family are the greatest a man can commit. Although Skurak claimed the death was an accident as he and his brother were hunting, others spoke of murder spawned of jealous rage. Skurak was declared a tshamek by the Sun Shaman and cast out, but before he left, he said he would be born again and return to his tribe. This he did. He went to the killing grounds of the great Cindermaw the Clan-Eater. Skurak walked up to the beast carrying only his dagger. Without fear, he dove inside the beast and cut his way out. He returned to the clan and declared he had been reborn, and had left his misdeeds behind in the cleansing fire of Cindermaw’s belly. The legend says the Sun Shaman accepted this and Skurak’s time as a tshamek was spoken of no more.”
“What’s a ‘Cindermaw?’” Valeris asked suspiciously.
“A legend,” Thousand Bones said, “yet one of flesh and blood. Cindermaw dwells on the northernmost edge of Shoanti lands, in the place where Shoanti and orc and giant vie for life and water. His hunting grounds are known as the Feeding Grounds of the Quah-Kael, the land of the Clan Eater. The orcs of Urglin avoid this region; the giants of the north hunt only on its edges. Within, few have returned to tell tales, but those who do speak of a mountain that crawls and of fire that roars.”
“So,” Ratbone said, blowing out his breath, “are you saying that we could earn the respect of the Sklar-Quah by being eaten by Cindermaw and then escaping?”
“Perhaps,” Thousand Bones shrugged, “yet this route is more complex than you suspect. The Sklar-Quah would never believe the words of tshamek on such a matter, nor would they risk travel to the Feeding Grounds just to see foolish outlanders attempt to recreate legends. I could come with you, if my bones were not so tired, yet I am Skoan-Quah. My words would hold little light with the Sun Shaman, I fear.”
Thousand Bones grew silent for a moment, and in the lull, Ash Dancer spoke for the first time.
“They could bring a Truthspeaker.”
“A Truthspeaker?” Michael raised one eyebrow.
“There are those among our people,” Thousand Bones nodded, “who, after living lives without lie and never speaking falsehood, have earned the title of Truthspeaker. It is a rare honor, one that requires many years of chastity, of self-control, of introspection. There are Truthspeakers among the Sklar-Quah, yet that does not help you. Would that the Skoan-Quah had one. Yet the Skoan-Quah and the Sklar-Quah are not the only Shoanti in the Cinderlands. I have heard tell that the Lyrune-Quah, who dwell in the shadow of the Wyvern Mountains far to the northwest, have Truthspeakers among them. If you could perform the ritual of rebirth at the Feeding Grounds of the Quah-Kael in the presence of a Truthspeaker, his words would be all the proof you need to secure an audience with the Sklar-Quah.”
“And where would we find the Lyrune-Quah?” Ratbone asked, impatience in his voice.
“The Moon Clan are nomads,” Thousand Bones replied. “This time of year, they gather at a place sacred to them, a place called the House of the Moon at the northeasternmost edge of the Wyvern Mountains. Yet I fear that they will distrust you as tshamek as well, unless you bring to them proof of your honesty and need.”
Valeris threw up his hands in exasperation.
“Come on! This is getting more complicated than advanced transmutation!”
“What sort of proof?” Kat asked patiently, ignoring the duskblade’s outburst.
“The Lyrune-Quah are unusual among the Shoanti,” Thousand Bones said. “They do not seek enlightenment through our ancestors, but from the Song of the Spheres. They are devotees of Desna, and they trust those who worship her. Yet that trust is, alone, not enough to earn the aid of a Truthspeaker to be witness to your heroics against Cindermaw. The faithful of Desna have a tradition of exploring distant and dangerous places as a way to honor their deity, who watches over all who travel. When they reach the goal of their pilgrimage, a priest leaves a found-mark to honor his journey. One of the Lyrune-Quah’s greatest ancestors was a priest of Desna named Tanjah…their legends speak of her pilgrimage into an ancient ruin and her discovery of a potent relic sacred to Desna, a stone globe held deep within a place called the Acropolis of the Thrallkeepers. Those who follow Tanjah’s footsteps and seek her found-mark upon this globe are said to be given the Spherewalker’s Mark, and with this mark, the Lyrune-Quah would welcome into their camp even their most bitter rivals.”
“So let me get this straight,” Valeris said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “We have to ask a Sun Shaman about Midnight’s Teeth, but he won’t speak to us because we’re outsiders. In order to not be outsiders, we have to get eaten by a giant worm and somehow come back out again, but even that won’t be good enough unless we can convince him that we really did what we said. BUT…in order to do THAT we have to find the Moon Clan and talk one of their Truthspeakers into coming along and watch us get eaten by the giant worm. BUT…in order to do THAT, we’ve got to first find some ancient ruin, find a big rock inside, and get some sort of tattoo from it, THEN we can go find the Moon Clan and do all the rest. That about sum things up?”
“Just so,” Thousand Bones smiled.
“Where is the Acropolis?” Kat asked.
“It is a ruin left over from an ancient time,” Thousand Bones answered. “A time when great powers ruled over this land. We speak of these ancient lords only in whispers today, but you may know their mark by the Sihedron, the seven-pointed star. I know not what perils await you within the Acropolis, but its location is not unknown to the Skoan-Quah. When you are ready to leave, I shall send with you four boneslayers to lead you there.”
“We thank you for all of your help and advice,” Kat said.
“You are doing us a service as well,” Thousand Bones said. “By convincing the Sklar-Quah you are friends, that you represent Korvosa, and that war is not in anyone’s best interest. This will save both our peoples needless pain and grief. If you can earn their trust and respect enough to learn from them the secret of what their ancestors watched over before the outlanders drove them away, they will listen to your words and see the wisdom there. This is all I ask, and it benefits you as well.”
__________________________________________________________
The following morning, Thousand Bones saw that the company was provisioned against the dangers of the Cinderlands. The same four boneslayers that guided them into the camp waited for them at its edge. Thousand Bones introduced them as Ahalak, Hargev, Nalmid, and Shadfrar. The guides said nothing, simply nodding and then turning for the deep Cinderlands.
The journey was sweltering, monotonous, and surreal. The boneslayers never spoke, and seemed to take the odd sights and sounds of the Cinderlands for granted…up to a point. Three days had passed when the hunters abruptly came to a stop. They stood looking up the side of a low hill, their faces grim. The agents followed their gaze. Protruding from a cleft between two rocks was a sharp wooden pole. Mounted atop it was the rotting head of a Shoanti man, hung in such a way that it almost resembled a flag on the side of a building.
“What is it?” Ratbone asked.
The warriors didn’t answer. Trinia spoke to them in their own language, and Ahalak replied in clipped, angry words.
“He says it’s the head of a Sklar-Quah, but it was placed here by a ‘tshamek devil’ they call the Cinderlander. He says that this man has stalked the Cinderlands for the past several years. He never attacks large groups, but instead targets only lone braves with a strange, sideways screaming bow. They believe he is the unquiet ghost of a Korvosan general who hunts the land, and will continue to slay Shoanti until his victims equal those the Shoanti took from him.”
Ahalak quickly scaled the hill and retrieved the grisly trophy, plucking two red bolts from its eyes. Later that evening, the four boneslayers conducted a private ceremony in which they burned the head, scattered the ashes, and buried the skull under a cairn of rocks.
___________________________________________________________
The next day, Ratbone announced that he was leaving the group.
“Just for a short time,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I was born in the Cinderlands. My father’s tribe lived north of here, in the mountains. I need…to pay my respects. I’ll join you at the Acropolis.”
Nothing they said could change his mind, and as they watched, the druid morphed into a great bird and winged his way into the ash gray sky.
By late afternoon, the sky had darkened further, and strange clouds gathered on a blood red horizon. The boneslayers paused again and gazed suspiciously at the coming storm, testing the air with their noses. At length, Ahalak spoke.
“He says it’s an emberstorm,” Trinia translated. “It’s like a sandstorm made of burning ash. Not something we want to be caught out in.”
Ahalak pointed towards the nearby foothills and spoke again.
“He says the Acropolis is just there,” Trinia said. “If we hurry, we can make it before the storm hits.”
A partially collapsed tower that bore the mark of a seven-pointed star stood atop a stone outcropping. Just beside the strange mark, a pair of wide stone doors stood ajar. The boneslayers didn’t hesitate, and ducked quickly through the portals. Once inside, the companions found themselves at the head of a steep, broad stair that descended into darkness. The walls were black granite, flecked with blood-red deposits of rock crystal. Intricate rune patterns of strange writing decorated the walls, interrupted at intervals by the ubiquitous seven-pointed star.
“These runes are Thassilonian,” Kat said, marveling. “This mark is the Sihedron Rune, the mark of the ancient Runelords of ancient Thassilon. The writings speak of Runelord Karzoug, and the rune goddess Lissala.”
“Fabulous,” Valeris said. “This deal just keeps getting better and better.”
At the bottom of the stairs, a corridor opened into a massive chamber. The air in the cathedral-like space seemed strangely cool. The ceiling vaulted into the shadows above, while the walls were carved with vertical ridges that rose to support the arch above. A narrow balcony circled the room, the floor of which dropped into a pool of dark water. A bridge crossed the pool down the room’s center, and two large stone doors stood in the walls to the south and east. Smaller doors sat in the walls to the northwest and southwest…all four of the portals bore the depiction of the Sihedron. Ahalak stopped at the bottom of the stairs and dropped to one knee, staring intently at the floor. After a moment, he spoke, and pointed towards the small door to the southwest.
“He’s found tracks,” Trinia said softly. “Two people passed this way recently. He says they went through that door.”
Carefully, the group approached the door. Kat examined it closely, then reached out and touched the Sihedron symbol. Slowly, the door slid up into the ceiling, revealing a long, plain hallway with narrow gaps piercing the wall facing the pool chamber, acting as a hidden observation gallery. Two figures stood halfway down the passage. They turned as the door opened. One was a distinguished looking older man dressed in heavy black robes. The second was female, but not human. Her skin was as pale as bone, her eyes red as fire. Slender horns protruded from her forehead, and she was naked save for spiked chains that wrapped around her body like a second skin.
“Well now, this is inconvenient,” the man said.
“Who are you, and why are you here?” Kat demanded. The boneslayers gripped their earthbreaker mauls tightly. “Speak quickly!”
“Of course,” the man said. “There is no need for violence. I am Shadowcount Sial, and this is my associate Asyra. We are accomplices of Laori Vaus. I trust you remember her?”
“Well, well,” Valeris said. “Isn’t this getting interesting?”
“Laori reported your efforts in Old Korvosa to our organization,” Sial continued. “I have been…observing you for some time now.”
“You mean spying on us!” O’Reginald snapped.
Sial shrugged. “I was simply gathering information. You see, I represent a group of scholars and historians within the church of Zon-Kuthon. We may have need of the services of such an esteemed group as yourselves, but first we must make be certain of your methods. I humbly request that you allow us to accompany you as silent observers. You have my word that we will not interfere with your quest in any way.”
The boneslayers began speaking at once, their voices raised in anger.
“They don’t like them,” Trinia said. “They are warning us…strongly…not to trust them.”
“How quaint,” Sial said, his voice dripping disdain. “Your primitives speak for you?”
“Watch your mouth!” Valeris said.
“My apologies,” Sial said. “I’m just not accustomed to servants being so…outspoken.”
“They’re not our servants,” Kat said. “They are allies, and if you want to be the same, you’ll show some respect.”
Sial nodded silently.
“Fine,” Kat continued. “We can’t keep you from following us without killing you, and I’d prefer to keep my eyes on you, but be warned, if you step out of line even once, we’ll end this partnership…permanently.”
“Understood,” Sial smiled.
_______________________________________________________
Beyond the gallery hall, the ever-growing group came upon a strange sight. The floor of the otherwise empty chamber contained a five-foot diameter hole in the center, surrounded by a ring of wavy runes. Inside the hole, a shaft filled with brilliant emerald light dropped into the depths. A smaller room opened off the chamber, as did a second observation gallery. Within the smaller room, a strange, bronze statue stood. It depicted a half-snake, half-human creature with the lower body of a serpent coiled about a stand and the upper torso of a slender human woman. Her hands were crossed over her chest to clutch two objects at her shoulders…the right hand held a large quill, while the left held a jade-handled whip. Six bird-like wings emerged from the torso’s shoulders, and instead of a head, it had a disk bearing the seven-pointed star of the Sihedron. A line of jade runes ran down the statue’s belly and along the length of its snaky lower body.
“Lissala, the goddess of runes,” Sial said.
“One of the former patrons of ancient Thassilon,” Kat agreed. “I have studied Thassilonian, but these runes are nonsensical. Perhaps a spell or incantation of some sort.”
The beguiler approached the statue and began to examine it more closely, sliding her hands over its surface. When she reached the base, she noticed a hair-thin seam there…a concealed drawer. Her fingers working nimbly, she depressed a hidden latch, causing the drawer to slide open. Inside was a large circular frame that contained several wedge-shaped metal plates, each punched with its own intricate design. Each plate appeared to slide perfectly over or under the two adjacent plates along the outer ring.
“Hmm,” Kat mused as she held the frame in front of her. Then she walked quickly back into the first chamber and stood next to the illuminated hole. She kneeled down and placed the frame over the hole. It fit perfectly. Her face intent, Kat began to slide the plates over and under each other. As she did so, the light from the shaft below shone through the openings and began to create a pattern on the ceiling. When she slid the last one into place, it was obvious to all that she had created a map…a map of the truly massive complex that the Acropolis was once a part of.
“I’m impressed,” Sial said, smiling. “Laori did not speak falsely when she told of your talents. I think we shall indeed have much to talk about.”
Though the map was interesting, it was also outdated. Much of the areas it revealed had been destroyed over time. It seemed only a few rooms remained of the original structure. Kat left the frame in place as the group moved on through the next gallery to explore those other chambers. The second gallery opened onto a perpendicular hallway that seemed to join the two sides of the Acropolis that bounded the central chamber. Along the hall, the company came to a point with two large double doors on either side. It seemed reasonable that the western door would lead back to the central chamber. From the map, Kat knew that another room lay to the east. When she opened that door, she beheld a truly wondrous sight. The walls were decorated with six life-sized bas-relief carvings that depicted a diverse collection of priests, each adorned in billowing robes draped in Thassilonian runes. An intricate scripture wound around each carving, coiling around them and along the walls like an immensely long tangle of ribbons.
“So what do you make of this, then?” Sial asked Kat, interest gleaming in his eyes.
“I don’t recognize the carvings,” Kat replied, “but the writings are Thassilonian.”
“The carvings represent the upper tier clergy of Lissala, unless I miss my guess,” Sial offered.
Kat looked at him suspiciously. She turned and began reading the scripture.
“It seems to be a warning of some sort,” she said. “Something about a dire peril that lies within the heart of the Acropolis. It’s going to take me a bit to read it all…not long…perhaps five minutes…”
_______________________________________________________
An hour later, she was still reading.
“Come on!” Valeris groaned. “Don’t you know what the danger is yet?”
“Just a bit longer,” Kat said distractedly.
Valeris rolled his eyes and stalked towards the doors. He depressed the Sihedron Rune there, as the doors had closed again on their own after only a minute of being open. He stepped out into the hall, and Herc followed, the big mercenary having grown restless as well. Valeris reached to open the doors across the hall, when suddenly they slid upwards of their own accord. Standing on the other side was Krojun, and three of his Sklar-Quah thundercallers. The boneslayers tensed, their hands gripping their weapons. The big barbarian nodded stoically and spoke curtly.
“He’s warning us that this is a bad place, and we shouldn’t be here,” Trinia translated.
“Then what’s he doing here?” Valeris sneered. Trinia asked the question.
“He says that he and his braves took shelter here to wait out the emberstorm,” Trinia said after Krojun had replied. “Now he wants to know what we’re doing here.”
“Tell him,” Michael shrugged. When Trinia complied, Krojun snorted derisively, and barked out a response.
“He says we’re no better than the ‘star-gazing Lyrune-Quah,’” Trinia said. Krojun then leaned forward and fairly growled his next question into Valeris’s face.
“He’s demanding to know what, exactly, we’re doing in the Cinderlands,” Trinia said quietly. Once again, Michael nodded for her to explain. When she did, Krojun folded his arms across his chest, and grunted. He spoke briefly, his tone dripping disdain.
“He says that the Sun Shamans of the Sklar-Quah have nothing to say to tshamek,” Trinia said.
“I guess we’ll just have to see about that then, won’t we?” Michael smiled, and then he turned back towards Kat.
________________________________________________________
Another hour passed as Kat continued reading the scriptures, unhurried by the constant grousing of Valeris. Krojun and his band grew quickly bored and began wandering around the main hall. At one point, they came upon a carving of a buxom mermaid, and began hooting and whistling as they made lewd gestures. When that grew tiresome, they took to skipping stones across the twin pools of dark water.
“Let’s go keep an eye on these bumpkins,” Valeris said to Herc. “At least it’ll give us something to do.”
The two went to the bridge which spanned the center of the room. From there they could see the Sklar-Quah clearly on the far side of the pool. Herc crouched down and peered into the black liquid.
“How deep do you think it is?” he asked.
Valeris shrugged. “One way to find out.” He pulled out a length of rope and tied a rock to it. He then whirled it several times around and cast it out over the water. The stone landed heavily, and sank quickly. Valeris began hauling it back towards him. As he did so, the entire structure suddenly shook slightly. The waters of the pool sloshed and churned as if something huge had just shifted below the surface. He dropped the rope and he and Herc began to back away from the pool, but as they did so, movement flickered at the corners of their vision on both sides. They turned, weapons leaving their sheaths, just as a half-dozen Red Mantis assassins appeared from the shadows, surrounding them on both sides.
“They’ve found us!” Herc shouted in warning, praying his voice would carry to his companions.
In an instant, the assassins were upon them, whirling saw-toothed sabers in their hands. In rapid succession, three of them struck at Valeris, their blades slashing him viciously before he could even raise his own sword in defense. His eyes went wide as he collapsed to one knee, blood pouring from multiple wounds, and also from his mouth. His eyes locked with Herc’s briefly before they went dim, and he fell heavily to his side.
“No!” Herc shouted. He lowered his shield and rushed forward, attempting to bull his way through the killers, but they were too skilled and too many. All of them turned their attention to him, and the big warrior knew that it would not be long before his joined his friend in death.
O’Reginald was the first to hear Herc’s warning. The wizard rushed through the doors just as Valeris went down. To his amazement, Krojun and his warriors were watching the battle and actually placing bets with each other! Several coins changed hands when Valeris collapsed, and Krojun chuckled, shaking his head. O’Reginald silently vowed to see that they paid more than coins when this was over. He turned back as Herc struggled to free himself. He closed his eyes and spoke his spell quickly, yanking the mercenary across dimensional boundaries to reappear at his side seconds later. He turned to help his friend, but saw that Sial was already there.
“I have him,” the priest said, and as he laid his hands upon Herc, the warrior’s wounds began to close and heal. O’Reginald nodded his grudging gratitude, then turned back to the room where Kat was still reading.
“Kat!” he shouted. “We could use some help out here!”
Katarina heard the sounds of combat, and she also heard O’Reginald’s calls, yet she could not pull herself away from the ancient writing. Something inside her kept telling her that she was so very near to discovering the secret…she just needed a little more time.
‘No!’ she told herself. Something was wrong. Why couldn’t she simply stop reading and come back to it? With an effort of will that nearly caused her to swoon, she wrenched her eyes away from the script. In that instant, she realized with horror that the writings had been so much nonsense. It had been a trap all along! Cursing herself, she hurried across the room and looked out at the scene unfolding. The Red Mantis killers were regrouping, preparing to close on Herc and O’Reginald. The four Skoan-Quah boneslayers were moving out to meet them.
“Stop!” she shouted, knowing full well that the Shoanti stood no chance against the brutally efficient assassins, but the honor of the braves would not let them retreat when their charges were in danger. Kat began to cast, and before the Red Mantis could leave the bridge, she filled it with a billowing cloud of fog, but it was no ordinary mist. It had the consistency of quicksand, and the assassins suddenly found themselves unable to move at more than a crawl.
“Now!” Kat shouted to O’Reginald, for the two wizards had practiced this particular combination of spells for just such a contingency.
O’Reginald grinned evilly and began his own spell. Within moments, a cluster of writhing, black tentacles sprouted within the fog bank, and quickly entwined every one of the killers. The wizard had one last trick up his sleeve, and he hurled a ball of fire into the mix. It exploded spectacularly, but astonishingly, grappled though they were, all but one of the assassins managed to evade the brunt of the blast. The unlucky individual who did not was burned to ash on the spot.
The tide of battle had certainly turned. The Red Mantis were trapped, and it would only be a matter of time before the tentacles squeezed them all to death. O’Reginald nodded in satisfaction, but as he turned away from the battle, he heard one of the boneslayers shout a warning. When he turned back, he first thought that something had gone awry with his spell, for protruding from the water nearby were several long, rubbery tentacles. On closer inspection, however, the wizard saw that the greenish-black appendages were studded with bumpy nodules, and as he stood there, mouth agape, the nodules opened, revealing reptilian eyes. All of those gathered around the pool recoiled in horror, or, in the case of the Red Mantis, tried to. One of the tentacles suddenly whipped out and snatched one of the assassins from the grip of O’Reginald’s spell, then crushed the man with a slight flex of its coils, dropping him limply into the pool. Another struck at Krojun and wrapped around the barbarian’s leg. With a shrill war cry, the nearest thundercaller whirled a longspear around his head, causing it to emit an ululating whistle through the holes in its blade. He brought the tip of the spear down on the tentacle, pinning it to the ground. A moment later, Krojun raised his maul and crushed the appendage, causing it to release him and slither back into the pool. Yet more tentacles continued to emerge. One grabbed Hargev, one of the Skoan-Quah boneslayers, and lifted the man screaming into the air. His cries were abruptly cut short as his spine snapped.
Chaos erupted in the central chamber. As O’Reginald watched, the remaining Red Mantis were killed off one-by-one, either by his tentacles, or by the alien ones from the pool. One of Krojun’s thundercallers was seized by another tentacle, and Krojun rushed to his side. Nalmid, another boneslayer, died quickly as his neck was broken. Still more tentacles emerged. No one could move for fear of being snatched. O’Reginald wondered how long it would be before they all joined Valeris. Where was Ratbone when you needed him?
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Wow, well that's my definition of a cliffhanger!
Great stuff, btw !!!
I guess Valeris sums up what most players are thinking about this module. It does oddly foreshadow what happend in the end. Or was it just JD's regular Red Mantis mayhem?
Great stuff, btw !!!
Allanon
Explorer
I agree that in it's it can become somewhat tedious. But the module itself also gives DM's hints on how to shorten the adventure sequence somewhat or adapt it to the preferences of the gaming group.
I kept most of it, but cut out the traveling to the moon tribes and the necessity to visit this temple for the mark. Instead a truth-speaker of the bones tribe joined them. Whilst traveling to the layer of the worm they were hit by an emberstorm. Looking for shelter they found this temple. Finding shelter they came upon Krojin who was also sheltering from the storm. They themselves decided to investigate the temple, had some encounters and then travelled on. As one can see, the encounters and sequence of them is up to individual taste.
Besides that, thank you for an inspiring story hour JollyDoc. I can't wait to read the rest of it
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JollyDoc
Explorer
I agree that in it's it can become somewhat tedious. But the module itself also gives DM's hints on how to shorten the adventure sequence somewhat or adapt it to the preferences of the gaming group.
I kept most of it, but cut out the traveling to the moon tribes and the necessity to visit this temple for the mark. Instead a truth-speaker of the bones tribe joined them. Whilst traveling to the layer of the worm they were hit by an emberstorm. Looking for shelter they found this temple. Finding shelter they came upon Krojin who was also sheltering from the storm. They themselves decided to investigate the temple, had some encounters and then travelled on. As one can see, the encounters and sequence of them is up to individual taste.
Besides that, thank you for an inspiring story hour JollyDoc. I can't wait to read the rest of it
Well, our group prefers action to tedium, so I'm not one for detailing the trek between this place and that, and I despise random encounters. So far, it hasn't been too wearing, and after last night, we might actually finish up this one next week. BTW, last night, they met Cindermaw and not one, but two of our heroes ended up undergoing the rite of passage (the second one was unintentional).
carborundum
Adventurer
Yippee! Nice one JD!
It's round about this module that I started getting the vibe that Valeris so succinctly worded. I guess with a bit of DM flair you can make it your own, and a certain module later in the AP is excellent! Can't wait til they get there I'm sure you know the place of which I speak and no spoilers are necessary, just a shiver.
It's round about this module that I started getting the vibe that Valeris so succinctly worded. I guess with a bit of DM flair you can make it your own, and a certain module later in the AP is excellent! Can't wait til they get there
I'm sure you know the place of which I speak and no spoilers are necessary, just a shiver.
JollyDoc
Explorer
NOWHERE TO RUN
Raelak breathed a sigh of relief as the last remnants of the emberstorm finally passed. For a brief moment there, he had thought that he might die within sight of the Acropolis. Surely his shame among his ancestors in the afterlife would have been never ending. Fortunately, he’d been able to bring at least a small amount of honor to his fathers by using the skills they had taught him and finding shelter within an old landshark drift.
“Come on dog,” he said as he climbed to the edge of the crater and shook the ash from his cloak. The mangy mongrel padded after him, obedient as a heel hound despite the fact that Raelak had found him scavenging for scrub rats just two days past. The Shoanti hadn’t named the animal. That would be disrespectful. The gods already named all creatures at the moment of their creation, and it would be presumptuous of him to second guess the divine. He certainly had no illusions that he now owned the dog. To Raelak, they were simply two travelers going in the same direction, and the mongrel had already proven very useful when they’d stumbled across that pack of bush tigers. Still, he was looking forward to a little company while he explored the ancient ruin. Technically, the Lyrune-Quah rite of passage was supposed to be a solo journey, but there was never any mention of animal companions. Besides, the Moon Maidens had their wolves, didn’t they? What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Raelak and the dog made their way up the low hill to the doors of the Acropolis. Strangely, they were ajar. Raelak crouched and examined the ground around them closely.
“Well,” he said, “it looks like we may not be alone after all…,”
__________________________________________________________
Krojun crushed another tentacle beneath his earthbreaker, but not before it had ripped the leg from the Sklar-Quah thundercaller it had seized. The man bled to death within seconds. Across the pool, Asyra unspooled two of the chains from around her arms and spun them like scythes as she warded off a pair of tentacles that threatened to menace Sial. Sial himself had produced a spiked chain from beneath his robes, and he gripped it as though he knew how to use it well. With his other hand, he pulled out a black, stoppered vial and removed the cork with his teeth.
“Asyra,” he growled, “it has become most inhospitable here. We are leaving. Any who wish to come with us, join me now!”
“We’re not leaving!” O’Reginald snapped. “We came here for a reason, and we won’t let a giant squid stop us!”
“As you wish,” Sial shrugged. “If you survive, we shall soon meet again.”
He upended the flask, quaffing its contents in one swallow, and then gripped Asyra’s arm. In a matter of seconds, the pair simply faded away to nothingness.
___________________________________________________________
When Raelak reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw a roiling cloud of fog stretching across a dark pool. Strange, serpentine shadows played within the mist, while shouts and the sound of clanging metal echoed from somewhere beyond it.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, dog,” he said as he ruffled the mongrel’s fur, “but I won’t allow open defilement of this holy place. Wait here. I won’t be gone long.”
The Lyrune-Quah brave then slipped away into the shadows to a nearby door. He pushed a stellate symbol in its center, and it rose silently into the ceiling. He peered around the corner and then quickly ducked inside. He didn’t hear the dog began to growl low in its throat, nor see it suddenly double in size, nor notice the long, spike-like appendage that sprouted where its tail had been…
___________________________________________________________
A ball of fire rolled across the surface of the pool, immolating several of the grasping tentacles, but despite O’Reginald’s best effort, more of them continued to emerge from the water. Both of the two remaining thundercallers were seized and lifted into the air as Krojun howled impotent rage. Despite the fact that the Sklar-Quah had made no effort to help him and Valeris, and had even gone so far as to wager on their fates, Herc couldn’t stand by and simply watch them die. He rushed forward, hacking an intervening tentacle in two as he went, and grabbed the legs of one of the thundercallers just as the Shoanti was about to be pulled out of reach. The other Shoanti was not so fortunate, and the tentacles that held him sucked him beneath the water. Krojun roared again, and pulverized the appendage that held the last of his men. As the tentacle released him, Herc caught the semi-conscious thundercaller, heaved him over his shoulder, and quickly carried him to safety back in the room where Kat had found the insidious writings.
__________________________________________________________
Raelak jogged quickly down the length of the gallery he’d entered, then opened another door and came upon a strange chamber that held a pillar of emerald light which formed some sort of pattern on the ceiling. He ignored the phenomenon for the moment, and also the large pair of double doors on the room’s north side, guessing they would only lead him into the midst of the fog bank. Instead he opened another smaller door across the room, and hurried down a second gallery. When he opened the door at the end of that hall, he stopped dead in his tracks. Standing directly on the other side was a beautiful, yellow-haired tshamek woman, and, of all things, a Skoan-Quah boneslayer!
“Hold, brother!” Ahalak shouted as Raelak reflexively raised his bow. “We are not your enemy today! The tale is a long one, and I shall give it to you should we survive this day, but for now you must take me at my word…stand with us against this evil, and all will be made clear!”
Raelak was still very confused, but he did indeed trust the word of a fellow Shoanti, even if it was a tshamek-loving Skoan-Quah. As he glanced around the corner into the main chamber, however, he was both horrified and awe-struck. A lone Sklar-Quah warrior stood at the edge of the dark pool, menaced on all sides by writhing, eye-covered tentacles. The warrior was none other than Krojun Eats-What-He –Kills. The Sklar-Quah’s legend stretched the breadth of the Cinderlands, and it was apparently well-deserved. The tentacles ripped and tore at his flesh, yet the brave stood his ground, wielding his earthbreaker and klar as if they were extensions of his own body. As Raelak watched, however, a second Sklar-Quah appeared from a side passage…a thundercaller from his tattoos. The man was badly wounded, yet he did not let that stop him from rushing to Krojun’s aid. Before he could reach his leader, however, one of the tentacles flicked at him like a striking viper, and caved in his chest before he could take three steps.
Kat could see that the situation was growing more desperate by the moment. Thinking quickly, she took the best tactic she could think of…buying time. Weaving her magic more intricately than she’d ever tried before, she constructed a highly realistic, yet illusory stone wall around the near side of the pool to a height of over ten feet. To her horror, however, the tentacles began ‘climbing’ the wall, and several even came right through it. One of them twined around Shadfrar, one of the two remaining boneslayers. The man died screaming. Another seized O’Reginald, heaving him into the air, and driving the words of a spell from his lips as the air was forcibly expelled from his lungs. At that precise moment, all of the open doors in the area abruptly slid closed at the same time, pinning several of the grasping tentacles beneath them. Kat, Herc, Michael, Trinia, Ahalak, and Raelak found themselves in the long hallway between the main chamber and the room filled with Thassilonian writing. O’Reginald took a deep breath, and spoke one word, transporting himself out of the tentacle’s grasp, and as far away as he could get, but the last thing he saw before he departed was Krojun taking the opportunity to dart to safety in one of the galleries on the far side of the chamber.
____________________________________________________________
Herc immediately began hacking at the tentacles that were trapped beneath the doors. From several feet away, Raelak drew back the string to his bow, and as he did so, an arrow of pure light formed. When he released it, it burned through one of the tentacles like a hot knife through butter. Again and again he pulled and released, destroying tentacle after tentacle. When the last one withdrew, Michael slapped the Sihedron rune on the door behind the group, and the company quickly fell back into the writing chamber to regroup and catch their collective breath.
____________________________________________________________
O’Reginald reappeared back on the main stairs that lead up to the Acropolis entrance…and immediately thought that he’d jumped from the frying pan and into the fire. Standing before him was a gigantic bipedal, lupine creature that sported a stocky, flail-like tail. Then, recognition dawned on the sorcerer’s face.
“R…Ratbone??” he asked incredulously.
The predatory creature nodded once, then suddenly leaped forward. For a moment, O’Reginald thought he’d been mistaken, and now he’d pay for his mistake with his life. An instant later, however, he was seized from behind as tentacles began emerging from the pool again. Ratbone seized the appendage in his claws, and then bit cleanly through it with his powerful jaws. O’Reginald dropped heavily to the floor, then quickly scrambled to his feet and began running up the stairs. Behind him, he saw Ratbone wade into the pool, directly into the nest of tentacles, and continue to wreak havoc with the alien things.
__________________________________________________________
“We cannot stay here,” Raelak told Trinia and Ahalak. Those…things…could find another way through at any moment. I can lead us out, but I suggest we split up. If we divide the attention of the demon arms, we might have a better chance of escape.”
Trinia translated the Lyrune-Quah’s words for her allies, and they quickly agreed. They hurried back into the hallway, and then divided. Raelak, Kat, and Ahalak went left, while Herc, Michael and Trinia went right. Raelak led his group back through the galleries, past the fountain of light. He did not notice when Katarina paused there, and did not follow. When he reached the end of the second gallery, he quickly opened the door…and stopped in his tracks. A monstrous creature stood knee-deep in the pool, ripping and tearing at tentacles with feral savagery.
“Dog?” the Shoanti asked.
Meanwhile, Herc led his friends through the opposite galleries, but when they reached the end of the second, they found Krojun already there, crouched and peering out the narrow windows into the central chamber beyond. The Sklar-Quah warrior was bleeding profusely, and looked as if he was barely able to stay on his feet. Cautiously, Herc drew a healing elixir from his belt and held it out to the Shoanti. Snarling, Krojun slapped it away and barked something in his native tongue.
“He says he’d rather die than feel the pity of tshamek,” Trinia said.
Herc shrugged. “Then tell him to stand aside,” the big merc said, and he shouldered past Krojun to the door. When he reached it, he opened it quickly…and was immediately yanked through as a tentacle reached in and coiled around his waist.
_________________________________________________________
Ratbone didn’t see Herc’s plight, for by that time he had fought through a small forest of tentacles and completely submerged himself within the pool. He intended to find the source of the deadly appendages and deal with it in his customary fashion. He hadn’t gone very far down before he saw it: a massive mound of tentacles rose and fell, hinting at the breathing of a great slumbering beast. Every so often, the tip of one the glistening filaments twitched to life, spontaneously growing a razor-like feeler, horrible eye, or other alien appendage. The creature’s body was a looming clot of those same appendages, a twitching knot of wriggling matter. Ratbone hesitated for a moment, not certain what he was looking at, but then he surged forward and slashed into the beast with one savage swipe of his claws. It was as if he had struck a stone wall. Barely a scratch marred the thing’s skin, and even that rapidly healed and vanished completely in the span of a three heartbeats.
______________________________________________________
Kat stood studying the map on the ceiling, looking for something…anything…she might have missed. Then, she saw it. There was another level to the Acropolis…one that lay directly beneath them! The cone of light was a passage! Immediately, she opened her mind to her companions, telling them of her discovery, but in that moment, she sensed the danger they were in. Quickly, she hurried out of the room and back towards the main chamber.
_______________________________________________________
Michael was grabbed next. Before he knew what was happening, he was dangling by one leg over the pool, not far from the still struggling Herc. Raelak still knelt in the doorway, firing over and over at the tentacles, destroying several, but not able to get a clear shot at those holding the tshamek. Before he could, he was struck repeatedly by several of the flailing arms, and he was forced to retreat back to the relative safety of the gallery. When he looked around to find Krojun, he saw that the Sklar-Quah was gone.
Meanwhile, Kat stepped out of the gallery across the chamber and quickly loosed a thunderous lance of sonic energy. The tentacle that held Herc was blown into a dozen pieces and the mercenary fell heavily to the floor.
“Come on!” Kat shouted, and Herc didn’t hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and ran across the room, dodging tentacles on all sides. Suddenly, the pool erupted in a geyser as Ratbone reemerged. With one hand he slashed through the tentacle that held Michael, then caught the priest as he fell and tossed him towards the door where Kat stood. Michael rolled to his feet and darted after Herc. Kat cleared a path for Ratbone with another sound lance, allowing the druid to reach the gallery. He shoved Kat in front of him and the pair hurried towards the map room. Behind them, the tentacles writhed and slithered through the gallery door, pursuing with deadly speed.
By the time Herc and Michael reached the cone of light, Trinia and Ahalak were already there. Then, from the far side of the room, Raelak emerged, panting and bloody.
“In the hole!” Kat cried as she ran in. Herc looked dubious, but shrugged and leaped in, vanishing into the brilliant emerald light. Michael started to follow, but suddenly a tentacle burst into the chamber and seized the priest’s leg. He cried out in surprise, then swung his shield almost reflexively, bringing it down solidly on the appendage. For an instant, its grip loosened, and Michael yanked himself free, then rolled across the floor and into the hole. Ratbone grabbed the wriggling tentacle before it could lash out again, buying time for Trinia, Ahalak and Raelak to dive down the shaft.
“Wait!” Kat shouted. “Where’s O’Reginald?”
“Right here!” the sorcerer said as he popped out of thin air.
Kat allowed herself a brief smile, then stepped into the beam of light. O’Reginald quickly followed. Ratbone allowed himself the brief indulgence of snapping the tentacle in two before he followed his companions into the unknown.
Raelak breathed a sigh of relief as the last remnants of the emberstorm finally passed. For a brief moment there, he had thought that he might die within sight of the Acropolis. Surely his shame among his ancestors in the afterlife would have been never ending. Fortunately, he’d been able to bring at least a small amount of honor to his fathers by using the skills they had taught him and finding shelter within an old landshark drift.
“Come on dog,” he said as he climbed to the edge of the crater and shook the ash from his cloak. The mangy mongrel padded after him, obedient as a heel hound despite the fact that Raelak had found him scavenging for scrub rats just two days past. The Shoanti hadn’t named the animal. That would be disrespectful. The gods already named all creatures at the moment of their creation, and it would be presumptuous of him to second guess the divine. He certainly had no illusions that he now owned the dog. To Raelak, they were simply two travelers going in the same direction, and the mongrel had already proven very useful when they’d stumbled across that pack of bush tigers. Still, he was looking forward to a little company while he explored the ancient ruin. Technically, the Lyrune-Quah rite of passage was supposed to be a solo journey, but there was never any mention of animal companions. Besides, the Moon Maidens had their wolves, didn’t they? What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Raelak and the dog made their way up the low hill to the doors of the Acropolis. Strangely, they were ajar. Raelak crouched and examined the ground around them closely.
“Well,” he said, “it looks like we may not be alone after all…,”
__________________________________________________________
Krojun crushed another tentacle beneath his earthbreaker, but not before it had ripped the leg from the Sklar-Quah thundercaller it had seized. The man bled to death within seconds. Across the pool, Asyra unspooled two of the chains from around her arms and spun them like scythes as she warded off a pair of tentacles that threatened to menace Sial. Sial himself had produced a spiked chain from beneath his robes, and he gripped it as though he knew how to use it well. With his other hand, he pulled out a black, stoppered vial and removed the cork with his teeth.
“Asyra,” he growled, “it has become most inhospitable here. We are leaving. Any who wish to come with us, join me now!”
“We’re not leaving!” O’Reginald snapped. “We came here for a reason, and we won’t let a giant squid stop us!”
“As you wish,” Sial shrugged. “If you survive, we shall soon meet again.”
He upended the flask, quaffing its contents in one swallow, and then gripped Asyra’s arm. In a matter of seconds, the pair simply faded away to nothingness.
___________________________________________________________
When Raelak reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw a roiling cloud of fog stretching across a dark pool. Strange, serpentine shadows played within the mist, while shouts and the sound of clanging metal echoed from somewhere beyond it.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, dog,” he said as he ruffled the mongrel’s fur, “but I won’t allow open defilement of this holy place. Wait here. I won’t be gone long.”
The Lyrune-Quah brave then slipped away into the shadows to a nearby door. He pushed a stellate symbol in its center, and it rose silently into the ceiling. He peered around the corner and then quickly ducked inside. He didn’t hear the dog began to growl low in its throat, nor see it suddenly double in size, nor notice the long, spike-like appendage that sprouted where its tail had been…
___________________________________________________________
A ball of fire rolled across the surface of the pool, immolating several of the grasping tentacles, but despite O’Reginald’s best effort, more of them continued to emerge from the water. Both of the two remaining thundercallers were seized and lifted into the air as Krojun howled impotent rage. Despite the fact that the Sklar-Quah had made no effort to help him and Valeris, and had even gone so far as to wager on their fates, Herc couldn’t stand by and simply watch them die. He rushed forward, hacking an intervening tentacle in two as he went, and grabbed the legs of one of the thundercallers just as the Shoanti was about to be pulled out of reach. The other Shoanti was not so fortunate, and the tentacles that held him sucked him beneath the water. Krojun roared again, and pulverized the appendage that held the last of his men. As the tentacle released him, Herc caught the semi-conscious thundercaller, heaved him over his shoulder, and quickly carried him to safety back in the room where Kat had found the insidious writings.
__________________________________________________________
Raelak jogged quickly down the length of the gallery he’d entered, then opened another door and came upon a strange chamber that held a pillar of emerald light which formed some sort of pattern on the ceiling. He ignored the phenomenon for the moment, and also the large pair of double doors on the room’s north side, guessing they would only lead him into the midst of the fog bank. Instead he opened another smaller door across the room, and hurried down a second gallery. When he opened the door at the end of that hall, he stopped dead in his tracks. Standing directly on the other side was a beautiful, yellow-haired tshamek woman, and, of all things, a Skoan-Quah boneslayer!
“Hold, brother!” Ahalak shouted as Raelak reflexively raised his bow. “We are not your enemy today! The tale is a long one, and I shall give it to you should we survive this day, but for now you must take me at my word…stand with us against this evil, and all will be made clear!”
Raelak was still very confused, but he did indeed trust the word of a fellow Shoanti, even if it was a tshamek-loving Skoan-Quah. As he glanced around the corner into the main chamber, however, he was both horrified and awe-struck. A lone Sklar-Quah warrior stood at the edge of the dark pool, menaced on all sides by writhing, eye-covered tentacles. The warrior was none other than Krojun Eats-What-He –Kills. The Sklar-Quah’s legend stretched the breadth of the Cinderlands, and it was apparently well-deserved. The tentacles ripped and tore at his flesh, yet the brave stood his ground, wielding his earthbreaker and klar as if they were extensions of his own body. As Raelak watched, however, a second Sklar-Quah appeared from a side passage…a thundercaller from his tattoos. The man was badly wounded, yet he did not let that stop him from rushing to Krojun’s aid. Before he could reach his leader, however, one of the tentacles flicked at him like a striking viper, and caved in his chest before he could take three steps.
Kat could see that the situation was growing more desperate by the moment. Thinking quickly, she took the best tactic she could think of…buying time. Weaving her magic more intricately than she’d ever tried before, she constructed a highly realistic, yet illusory stone wall around the near side of the pool to a height of over ten feet. To her horror, however, the tentacles began ‘climbing’ the wall, and several even came right through it. One of them twined around Shadfrar, one of the two remaining boneslayers. The man died screaming. Another seized O’Reginald, heaving him into the air, and driving the words of a spell from his lips as the air was forcibly expelled from his lungs. At that precise moment, all of the open doors in the area abruptly slid closed at the same time, pinning several of the grasping tentacles beneath them. Kat, Herc, Michael, Trinia, Ahalak, and Raelak found themselves in the long hallway between the main chamber and the room filled with Thassilonian writing. O’Reginald took a deep breath, and spoke one word, transporting himself out of the tentacle’s grasp, and as far away as he could get, but the last thing he saw before he departed was Krojun taking the opportunity to dart to safety in one of the galleries on the far side of the chamber.
____________________________________________________________
Herc immediately began hacking at the tentacles that were trapped beneath the doors. From several feet away, Raelak drew back the string to his bow, and as he did so, an arrow of pure light formed. When he released it, it burned through one of the tentacles like a hot knife through butter. Again and again he pulled and released, destroying tentacle after tentacle. When the last one withdrew, Michael slapped the Sihedron rune on the door behind the group, and the company quickly fell back into the writing chamber to regroup and catch their collective breath.
____________________________________________________________
O’Reginald reappeared back on the main stairs that lead up to the Acropolis entrance…and immediately thought that he’d jumped from the frying pan and into the fire. Standing before him was a gigantic bipedal, lupine creature that sported a stocky, flail-like tail. Then, recognition dawned on the sorcerer’s face.
“R…Ratbone??” he asked incredulously.
The predatory creature nodded once, then suddenly leaped forward. For a moment, O’Reginald thought he’d been mistaken, and now he’d pay for his mistake with his life. An instant later, however, he was seized from behind as tentacles began emerging from the pool again. Ratbone seized the appendage in his claws, and then bit cleanly through it with his powerful jaws. O’Reginald dropped heavily to the floor, then quickly scrambled to his feet and began running up the stairs. Behind him, he saw Ratbone wade into the pool, directly into the nest of tentacles, and continue to wreak havoc with the alien things.
__________________________________________________________
“We cannot stay here,” Raelak told Trinia and Ahalak. Those…things…could find another way through at any moment. I can lead us out, but I suggest we split up. If we divide the attention of the demon arms, we might have a better chance of escape.”
Trinia translated the Lyrune-Quah’s words for her allies, and they quickly agreed. They hurried back into the hallway, and then divided. Raelak, Kat, and Ahalak went left, while Herc, Michael and Trinia went right. Raelak led his group back through the galleries, past the fountain of light. He did not notice when Katarina paused there, and did not follow. When he reached the end of the second gallery, he quickly opened the door…and stopped in his tracks. A monstrous creature stood knee-deep in the pool, ripping and tearing at tentacles with feral savagery.
“Dog?” the Shoanti asked.
Meanwhile, Herc led his friends through the opposite galleries, but when they reached the end of the second, they found Krojun already there, crouched and peering out the narrow windows into the central chamber beyond. The Sklar-Quah warrior was bleeding profusely, and looked as if he was barely able to stay on his feet. Cautiously, Herc drew a healing elixir from his belt and held it out to the Shoanti. Snarling, Krojun slapped it away and barked something in his native tongue.
“He says he’d rather die than feel the pity of tshamek,” Trinia said.
Herc shrugged. “Then tell him to stand aside,” the big merc said, and he shouldered past Krojun to the door. When he reached it, he opened it quickly…and was immediately yanked through as a tentacle reached in and coiled around his waist.
_________________________________________________________
Ratbone didn’t see Herc’s plight, for by that time he had fought through a small forest of tentacles and completely submerged himself within the pool. He intended to find the source of the deadly appendages and deal with it in his customary fashion. He hadn’t gone very far down before he saw it: a massive mound of tentacles rose and fell, hinting at the breathing of a great slumbering beast. Every so often, the tip of one the glistening filaments twitched to life, spontaneously growing a razor-like feeler, horrible eye, or other alien appendage. The creature’s body was a looming clot of those same appendages, a twitching knot of wriggling matter. Ratbone hesitated for a moment, not certain what he was looking at, but then he surged forward and slashed into the beast with one savage swipe of his claws. It was as if he had struck a stone wall. Barely a scratch marred the thing’s skin, and even that rapidly healed and vanished completely in the span of a three heartbeats.
______________________________________________________
Kat stood studying the map on the ceiling, looking for something…anything…she might have missed. Then, she saw it. There was another level to the Acropolis…one that lay directly beneath them! The cone of light was a passage! Immediately, she opened her mind to her companions, telling them of her discovery, but in that moment, she sensed the danger they were in. Quickly, she hurried out of the room and back towards the main chamber.
_______________________________________________________
Michael was grabbed next. Before he knew what was happening, he was dangling by one leg over the pool, not far from the still struggling Herc. Raelak still knelt in the doorway, firing over and over at the tentacles, destroying several, but not able to get a clear shot at those holding the tshamek. Before he could, he was struck repeatedly by several of the flailing arms, and he was forced to retreat back to the relative safety of the gallery. When he looked around to find Krojun, he saw that the Sklar-Quah was gone.
Meanwhile, Kat stepped out of the gallery across the chamber and quickly loosed a thunderous lance of sonic energy. The tentacle that held Herc was blown into a dozen pieces and the mercenary fell heavily to the floor.
“Come on!” Kat shouted, and Herc didn’t hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and ran across the room, dodging tentacles on all sides. Suddenly, the pool erupted in a geyser as Ratbone reemerged. With one hand he slashed through the tentacle that held Michael, then caught the priest as he fell and tossed him towards the door where Kat stood. Michael rolled to his feet and darted after Herc. Kat cleared a path for Ratbone with another sound lance, allowing the druid to reach the gallery. He shoved Kat in front of him and the pair hurried towards the map room. Behind them, the tentacles writhed and slithered through the gallery door, pursuing with deadly speed.
By the time Herc and Michael reached the cone of light, Trinia and Ahalak were already there. Then, from the far side of the room, Raelak emerged, panting and bloody.
“In the hole!” Kat cried as she ran in. Herc looked dubious, but shrugged and leaped in, vanishing into the brilliant emerald light. Michael started to follow, but suddenly a tentacle burst into the chamber and seized the priest’s leg. He cried out in surprise, then swung his shield almost reflexively, bringing it down solidly on the appendage. For an instant, its grip loosened, and Michael yanked himself free, then rolled across the floor and into the hole. Ratbone grabbed the wriggling tentacle before it could lash out again, buying time for Trinia, Ahalak and Raelak to dive down the shaft.
“Wait!” Kat shouted. “Where’s O’Reginald?”
“Right here!” the sorcerer said as he popped out of thin air.
Kat allowed herself a brief smile, then stepped into the beam of light. O’Reginald quickly followed. Ratbone allowed himself the brief indulgence of snapping the tentacle in two before he followed his companions into the unknown.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Ratbone returns...and not a moment too soon. I love Raelak's introduction - will he keep on calling Ratbone, "Dog"? Still, even though the group is not used to fleeing, it's good to see that they prefer retreat over a TPK. ![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
