Shilsen's Eberron SH (Finished - The Last Word : 9/20/15)
- Thread starter Rackhir
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shilsen
Adventurer
Okay, okay - now I'm feeling guilty.Vorput said:
Here goes...
* * * * * * * * * *
The Guardian Angels appear on a rocky plain, with a large chain of mountains arising to the east. Looking around once the momentary disorientation of teleportation passes, they glimpse what looks like a large ruined town to the east. And their intended destination in the form of distant towers, some six miles to the west, rising above the slopes of a lonely peak. The towers seem to glow faintly against the early evening sky and the most far-sighted of the adventurers can see the rings of the city rising in levels between them. “That, according to what Bruntutalephion told me,” says Nameless, “Is Io’lokar.”
“Hmm. Why didn’t you teleport us right there?” asks Luna.
“Because this is the spot that he showed me over the telepathic link he used. He did say that he’d only been here once.” The alienist rises into the air. “Let’s go.”
…
Over two hours later, most of the Angels are trekking their way up the slopes of the mountain. Even though a wide, well maintained road makes the ascent easier, Gareth, Korm and Luna are all puffing slightly. “Damn!” says the paladin, looking down sadly at his normally shining armor, as dusty as it is heavy. “I hadn’t realized all this riding and teleporting was getting us out of shape.”
Korm leans against a boulder for a moment and says, “What are you complaining about? I just got hit by an arc of lightning!” He gives Luna a half-dirty, half-amused look. “You were just waiting for an excuse to do that, weren’t you?”
The shifter grins, only slightly sheepishly, and says, “That pyrohydra we ran into had twelve heads! I wanted to fry it quickly before it could bite you with all of them, and it was immune to fire, so I needed to use the arc and anchor it somewhere. And I knew you could take it. Plus you’re fine now!”
“Yeah, I could take it. But did you really need to empower the damn thing?!”
This time Luna’s grin turns more amused and a lot less sheepish. “No, but it was fun!”
Six, striding along ahead of them, unaffected by issues of fatigue, interrupts, “We have company.” The others look up at the city.
Io’lokar clearly has five levels, each one higher than the one immediately outside. Surrounding the lowest level are the high walls the Angels saw at a distance, gleaming more brightly now that they are closer. Huge towers rise above the wall at orderly intervals, and figures look down over the battlements at the Angels. Considering the distance and their size, they must be giants. There are a few smaller, human-sized figures beside them. From one of the further towers, a long neck and head – which must belong to a dragon – crane over the edge of the tower to see the visitors. One of the more interesting aspects of the towers is that the front of each has the heads of multiple dragons embedded in the stone.
But what Six has warned of is something else altogether. Three shapes have shot up from one of the towers and they now head swiftly for the Angels. They are clearly wyverns, though ones which move through the air with unusual grace for those unwieldy creatures, and each also bears a rider. The latter, all human-sized, wear gleaming plate armor and are armed with heavy lances.
The wyverns soar forward and downwards, spreading apart as they advance. When one comes to a halt ahead of and above the Angels, the others continue around, so as to have the intruders at the center of a triangle. The first rider says, his voice polite but commanding, “Greetings, travelers! What is your business here?”
Lots of magical equipment. “We are newcomers to Argonnessen,” replies Nameless, “And one of the great dragons of the Vast, named Bruntutalephion, said we might find refuge and knowledge in Io’lokar.”
The man looks carefully at Nameless, then at the others, and then nods. “Yes. The gates of Io’lokar are open to all who come here in friendship. But tell me – do you number any half-dragons or yuan-ti among you?”
“No.”
“Very well. Follow the road to the main gate. Answer any questions you are asked there and enter.” The wyverns turn away smoothly, joining up again and heading for the tower. The lead rider hovers near the top of the largest tower, next to the gate, saying something to the guards above it, and then continues away.
The Angels continue to walk along towards the gate. As they come within 120 feet of it, Nameless stops. He looks back and forth, scanning the area, advances a few feet, and stops again.
“What’s wrong?” asks Luna, looking around for signs of trouble.
“Magic. The entire wall’s magical. The stone is actually suffused with it. And the people on it all have a great deal of magic too. I’ve never seen this much magic in one location!”
“Well,” grins Korm, “Then Gareth will have fun trying to rob this place. And you’re drooling a bit too! Come on.”
The main gate stands open as the adventurers reach it, but there is a small reception committee awaiting them. The dozen humanoids are an eclectic collection, including humans, hobgoblins, dwarves, a half-elf, and even a changeling in his natural form. But what draws most attention are the two large figures with granite gray skin, each over twelve feet tall, who tower above the rest. The larger and older of the two stone giant, whose heavy gray beard extends halfway down the front of his shining mithral chainmail, steps forward. “Welcome to Io’lokar. But, before you enter, I must ascertain that you are what you seem to be. Is that acceptable?”
The Angels exchange glances, wondering what that entails. “Yes.”
“Very well.” The giant walks forward towards them, and as he steps into their midst, his brow furrows faintly in concentration. Immediately, an antimagic field springs into existence around him, negating all the layers of magic on the Angels and revealing Nameless’ true form. The giant seems unworried by the revelation, studying the alienist appraisingly and then moving on to the others. “Thank you,” he rumbles finally, “You may pass.”
As he steps back and dismisses the effect, Luna says, “That’s a little rude, you know. And you guys seem kinda paranoid!”
“Ix-nay on pissing off the giant with the antimagic field, Luna,” says Korm under his breath, but the giant doesn’t seem upset. He replies, “The Vast is a dangerous place and many would harm Io’lokar or steal its knowledge and riches if they could. So we need to be careful. But once you have been allowed in by us, the Arnaaracaex, the defenders of Io’lokar, you will have no trouble. Unless you commit some crime, of course. I should also mention that while you will find the people of Io’lokar hospitable, if you wish to stay here long, you will need to work for your food and lodging. We Io’lokari respect skilled workers. Tell me, please, what skills you bring to our city?”
Six replies, indicating the others one by one, “He is a wizard, he is a priest and paladin, they are druids, and I am a warrior,” ignoring Luna’s muttered, “He says he’s a druid!” The giant nods and then turns to Luna and Korm. “You are druids? Are any of you skilled gardeners?”
“Um … what?”
“Gardeners. Druids are the rarest of spellcasters in Io’lokar, and we are always looking for some people with skills in that area to look after the gardens and parks. We have some people, of course, but we could always use more.”
That is not the job I was expecting to be offered here! “If we have the time, we’ll be happy to help in that area,” says Korm, and Luna nods.
“Good.” After asking a few more questions, the giant allows the Angels to enter the city. Before they go, he says one last thing. “As newcomers to the city, please stay within the lowest level – the Freeward – and do not attempt to move into any other level unless asked to do so by someone who lives higher up in the city. Do you have any questions?”
The unfortunate giant is promptly assailed with a barrage of questions. “What is the crime rate here? Is there any chance of being mugged? Are there gnomes here? Are there dragonmarked people here? How are people with dragonmarks treated here? What languages do the Io’lokari speak?”
The giant patiently explains that there is almost no crime, they are almost certain not to be mugged, there are gnomes in the city, there are a very few dragonmarked people and they are treated like anyone else, and the Io’lokari speak many languages, though draconic is the most commonly used. Clearly wishing to forestall any more queries, he quickly suggests that they enter the city and see for themselves, and heads back up a wide set of stairs leading up to the tower.
The other onlookers politely depart as well, and the Angels proceed into Io’lokar, the City of Knowledge. At first glance, the city beyond the great wall and the giant towers seems not particularly remarkable. The buildings, a riot of color and architectural styles, all seem more suited to a noble’s enclave than the streets of a city, but the people moving around the streets seem no more unusual than a very eclectic population. Blacksmiths and other workmen labor in the workshops beneath their homes, citizens move back and forth in the two large open-air markets visible from the main gate, sweepers clean the city streets as thousands of feet pass them by, and so on.
But even if it were not for Nameless regularly pointing out the unusual volume of magic that they are surrounded by, the Angels take only a few minutes to confirm that things are very different here. A man walks up to the door of a house, speaks a word and rises into the air, flying up to a doorway on the second floor, followed by his wife and their small son. As one of the sweepers passes by about his business, he gestures and pronounces the words of a prestidigitation, causing his clothes to begin cleaning themselves, and then pauses for some of his other implements, being wielded by unseen servants, to catch up. A few people disappear here and there, and while many do not reappear, others do so a few hundred feet away, apparently utilizing a dimension door effect.
“They’re not spellcasting,” Nameless clarifies, “But using command words to activate dweomers built into all of this place. Anyone in here can use a fly and a dimension door. As many times as they want. At will!” The alienist’s normally dry and impassive voice vibrates with fascination.
“Yes, we’re definitely not in Khorvaire any more,” says Korm.
“Let’s check out one of these markets,” says Six. “I want to see what they’re selling.”
In keeping with the rest of the city, the stalls at the closest market display wares of exquisite beauty and quality. Evidently aesthetics is very important to the Io’lokari, whether it be in a wooden workbench or in a magical sword where streams of fire and ice flow in an impossible spiral around the gleaming blade. Most of the stalls sell a few extremely well-crafted items rather than a large number of simpler ones. Vegetables and fruit seem to be the only things that are sold in great bulk here.
There is, however, an even more unusual element to Io’lokari commerce than simply great availability of magic. Gareth asks an aged armorer how much a magical helm with swept-back dragon-like wings along the sides costs. The man smiles short-sightedly up at him and says, “You have a good eye. This is some of my best work. A bargain at eighteen days.”
“Huh? Eighteen days?”
“Yes, eighteen.”
What the hell does that mean? “I was wondering how many gold coins you’d ask for it?”
This time it is the armorer who looks puzzled. “Coins?”
A middle-aged man at the next stall, who has overheard the interchange, steps over. “Ugil, these are strangers to town. They probably don’t understand how we work here.” He smiles pleasantly at the Angels and says, “We do not use coins for trade in Io’lokar, or for anything else. It’s all based on trade and work.”
“No coins at all? How about gems?” asks Luna curiously.
The man shakes his head. “Not really. Unless you’ve done something interesting in carving them or mounted them as part of some item.”
As the Angels look around the area, they notice that there really is absolutely no coin being exchanged. People constantly pass items back and forth, but not a single piece of currency is visible. And many exchanges seem to be made on the basis of an exchange of words, a smile and a handshake.
“What was that about the days?” asks Nameless, indicating the armorer, who is now dealing with a local.
“We are exchanging the efforts of our work here, so sometimes we simply exchange work. It took Ugil eighteen days to make that helm. So he will exchange it for eighteen days worth of labor from someone, though if what someone else has to offer takes his fancy he may accept less, or ask for more, if he is not as interested. And someone might not have an item but could simply offer to work for a number of days in Ugil’s workshop.”
“That’s … interesting,” says Six, already calculating how valuable the work of an unsleeping and untiring construct could be. “Thank you.”
“I’m pleased to help,” says the man. “My name is Omat. So you are new to town, correct? Are you from Khorvaire? And are you looking for a place to stay?”
“Yes, yes, and yes. Can you recommend an inn?”
“We have no inns in Io’lokar. Would you like to stay at my home?”
The Angels exchange surprised glances at the offer. “That’s very generous of you,” says Gareth cautiously, wondering what the man wants. “Wouldn’t it be an inconvenience?”
“No. Some taverns could put you up for a day, but you would need to do some work to pay your way after that. All services are paid for by work here. But I’ll be happy to accommodate you for a couple of days if you’re willing to tell me, and some of my neighbors and friends, tales of Khorvaire and anywhere else that you might have been. Sarlona? Xen’drik?”
“You seem well-informed about places outside Argonnessen,” says Nameless. “Are you a scholar?”
Omat laughs, waving a hand at the items sitting on his stall. “No – I’m a carpenter.”
* * *
Late that night, the Angels sit in a comfortable room in Omat’s house. “Well, that was certainly interesting,” says Korm. “I’m used to people being interested in our stories, but not getting room and board for them.”
“I just want one of those magical cook-pots they used to make dinner,” says Luna. “They make quite good food. Or they did, till you took them and added those horrible spices of yours!”
“Hey!” says the Gatekeeper indignantly, “They loved the traditional Marches fare and said they’d never had anything like it before!”
“I’m a little more interested,” Nameless interrupts dryly, “In getting the information we’re here for. About the seals? Which I presume you remember?”
“Yes,” frowns Gareth, “We all do, so save the tone. Some of us are just really interested in this place too.”
“So am I,” corrects the alienist. “Very. I just spoke to a weaver, the volume of whose lore would make some professors at Morgrave University to shame. If things were different, I wouldn’t leave this place in months, or maybe years. But I’m not losing sight of our objective. Maybe the message Omat took for us to the Colleges up in the Heights will get some response. Unfortunately, I couldn’t provide much detail of precisely what we need to know, but at least the mentions of Khesavuthir and the Tapestry and the Burning Tower should get some response. Omat was quite certain it would. We’ve got to be back in Khorvaire within four days for the meeting between the monarchs.”
“At least staying here won’t be a problem,” adds Six. “I exchanged a couple of carvings and Omat said he’d be happy to put us up for the next three days. I think they were mainly interested for the curiosity value, since I’ve seen far better work here, but I’m not complaining.”
“Can you exchange any sculpture for some of the magical equipment we’ve seen here?” asks Gareth. “It could be very helpful.”
“I don’t think I can produce work of that quality without spending a lot more time than we have,” says Six. “But I’m considering some options for when we’re back in Sharn. Nameless, you can greater teleport us back here once we leave, right?”
“Yes. I checked and there’s no magical restriction on that in Io’lokar, though it was politely pointed out to me that a greater teleport just outside the gate would be preferred. To save time, I’ll keep at least one ready tomorrow, and if we can find out more about these locations, we can head right to one of them.”
“I still vote for Khesavuthir,” says Gareth. “It sounds like a place with a lot of knowledge for the taking, and probably wealth and magic too.”
“You know,” Korm says meditatively, “Something tells me that you being a greedy bastard will be the death of you someday. And perhaps of some more of us.”
As the Angels are soon to discover, the Gatekeeper is a much better prophet than they would have liked.
* * * * * * * * * *
The next day, there is a message for the Guardian Angels from one of the Colleges, specifically from an individual named Elabenna. She writes that she has heard of their interest in the Black Well, Khesavuthir, and thinks she can provide some information on the subject. Omat adds some information, saying that Elabenna is an elven scholar and soothsayer who served many years as a Master of the city (one of the people who choose to dedicate themselves to the administration of the city, a position available by choice to those who are most skilled). She is known to be an expert on the Prophecy as it relates to Io’lokar, and had sponsored a couple of expeditions to Khesavuthir, the last of them about a decade ago.
“That explains her interest,” says Six, a trifle gloomily, “I bet she offers us a job.”
The Angels thank Omat for his hospitality, mention that they might not be returning today if they find the information they need, and take their leave. With Elabenna’s letter providing permission for them to head into the upper levels of Io’lokar, they leave the Freeward and proceed up the wide thoroughfares that wind their way up the mountain base of the city.
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shilsen
Adventurer
Passing through the wall gates that separate each tier from the other, they first enter the Terrace, home to the city’s professional warriors and to lower-rank spellcasters. This area seems full of shops and buildings dedicated to magical craftsmanship, with larger buildings where mages keep the imbued dweomers of the city functioning. Artful illusions and arcane entertainments are on constant display in places. More functional and just as essential to the city’s well-being are the citadel of brass-edged stone which houses the Union of the Spear, the Io’lokari wyvern riders whom the Angels met outside the gates, and the gleaming marble fortress where the Union of the Shield, the citizen militia tasked with defending the city, is based.
The next level is the Sunward, the home to higher-rank spellcasters, low-grade academics, and the city’s most respected entertainers. Although the cobbled streets of this area are quieter than of the two previous wards, there is constant activity around areas such as Lightstorm, the communal enclave of study and residence for the bards and illusionists who maintain the city’s theatrical traditions, or the Black Stage, the largest among Iolokar’s amphitheaters, with its shadow magic augmented performances. Much quieter but just as unusual as these areas to non-Io’lokari are the many large gardens dotting the Sunward, where plant growths and other spells of the druid gardeners blends with planar magic tapping into the power of Lamannia, the Twilight Forest, evidently provides an entire season’s growth every single day.
Beyond the Sunward lies the Angels’ destination, the Height, a stately hub of academic and scholarly tradition, and thus the virtual heart of Io’lokar. Here lie the city’s four great colleges, as well as the apartments of their wizards, sages and loremasters. Unlike the more eclectic buildings of the lower wards, the architecture here has a more consistent bent, reflecting the soaring stone and crystalline style one might see in the draconic observatories of Argonnessen. Only the massively fortified walls of the Bastion, home to the most powerful residents of the city and the Masters’ Hall, stands above the Height.
The Angels meet Elabenna inside one of the colleges in a large cluttered office, strewn with piles of books and documents. The elderly elven woman greets them politely and leads them to a more spacious meeting area, where she explains that their inquiries drew her attention due to the reference to Khesavuthir, a pet project of hers. She covers some of the details of the last expedition she sent into the Shadowlands in search of the place, which was led by three Io’lokari scholars, all of whom were skilled warrior-mages in their own right. They disappeared without a trace, and though her divinations reveal that the three are alive, she has never been able to locate them.
“It’s very vexing,” she explains. “Even discern locations have had no effect, and I have attempted them multiple times. I once even attempted a wish, but to no avail.”
A wish?! Nameless studies the elderly academic with increased interest and some respect. “I presume,” he says, trying to modulate his rasping tones as much as he can, “You have some idea for how we can help each other beneficially in this regard?”
“Yes,” says Elabenna. “The scholars did send me regular updates on their progress, and I have the location of their last message, a spot I believe to be relatively close to Khesavuthir. I could provide you with that information and you could begin your search for Khesavuthir there. If you find it and return with any lore that you recover, I will pay handsomely for it, especially if you are interested in having spells – particularly divinations – cast for you.”
“That sounds doable,” says Nameless. “I am an arcanist, though apparently not of your skill. Would you be willing to share some spells with me before we leave?”
“Yes. So am I to take it that you are all interested in my proposition?”
“Yeah,” says Luna, “But I was wondering something – which of these three places we’ve been asking about would have information about aberrations. And am I important or famous?”
Elabenna stares at her in confusion for a moment. “I beg your pardon?”
“I mean in this Prophecy thingy. Am I mentioned in it? I’m Luna,” the shifter adds helpfully.
“I cannot say that I have encountered any references to you,” Elabenna says carefully, “But my specialization is the Prophecy as it refers to Io’lokar. And Khesavuthir, I’m sure, would contain lore about aberrations, as would the Burning Tower and certainly the Tapestry. Whether you could access it in the Burning Tower and the Tapestry, of course, is another matter. They could both be very dangerous for you.”
“Isn’t Khesavuthir supposed to be very dangerous too?” asks Six. “A bronze dragon in the Vast said so.”
“Well, yes,” admits Elabenna, “But it is unclear what danger is there, whereas the dangers in the Burning Tower and the Tapestry are clear.”
“I don’t see not knowing as a good thing,” points out Korm.
“I do have some information about dangers encountered by an expedition – not mine – and a dragon which claimed to have found the place, and some supposed landmarks in the area, so that should help somewhat.”
“So someone found it and returned?” asks Gareth. “What did they say they found there?”
“They were unable to enter, due to the aforementioned dangers. But I can give you that information if you agree to go. Are you interested?”
“Yes, we are,” says Nameless decisively, and Gareth adds his voice in agreement. “This is the riskiest, but best option for us.”
“Excellent,” says Elabenna. “I shall go and bring you the information you need. But there is someone here to meet you. An acquaintance of mine heard you were here and expressed an interest in seeing you.” As if on cue, a much younger elven woman walks through the door. Elabenna nods and then says, “This is Essirise. What she has to discuss with you is none of my business, so I’ll go get the information I mentioned.” She dimension doors away.
Six studies the newcomer. “Are you a dragon?”
“Yes,” Essirise replies simply, with a smile which – now that she has identified herself – seems to have a slightly reptilian cast to it. “I am a member of the Chamber. I believe you are interested in visiting the Tapestry? I presume regarding the situation in Khorvaire with Xoriat?”
“Yes. So you do know what’s going on there?” asks Six. “I had wanted to contact your people in Khorvaire and didn’t know exactly how to do so.”
“Recently, some members of the Chamber attempted to contact you in Sharn as well, but you were elsewhere when they did so. A pity, but no matter, we still have some time.” She looks around at the group. “I have not been in Khorvaire for many decades, but I have heard of you and your actions. What do you wish of the Chamber and the Tapestry?”
“We need information and help,” replies Luna. “We’ve got to find out how to keep bloody Xoriat away and make new seals and maybe get some allies and find out about the Prophecy and …”
Nameless interrupts her quickly. “We are mainly interested in finding a way to sunder or block off Xoriat from Eberron again, and information about the dimensional seals would be very valuable to us. Especially knowledge about how to make more.”
“Hmmm,” says Essirise thoughtfully. “The Tapestry, as you apparently know, is home to the Chamber, and hence, of the dragons who would be willing to actively aid Khorvaire. But there are still limits on what we can – and are willing to – do, and sharing knowledge of the construction of the seals would breach those boundaries, many would say.”
“But what about Vvaraak?” asks Korm. “She taught my people how to make them.”
Essirise smiles. “True, but that was an unusual case. Anyway, I would like to help as we can. Would you be willing to plead your case before the leaders of the Chamber?”
“Absolutely,” says Gareth, face lighting up instantly at the prospect of addressing a collection of dragons. “We would love to have the opportunity.”
“Good. I shall travel to the Tapestry today and speak to others there and see what I can arrange. Then I shall contact you.”
“How soon will this occur?” asks Six. “Time is an issue for us.”
“It will take at least a week and likely more,” says the dragon, a trifle apologetically. “Not only will I need to contact many who dwell at widely separate locations, but discussions will be slow – by your standards. Our sense of time varies a great deal from yours.”
“That’s all right,” Gareth adds quickly. “We appreciate your efforts a great deal.”
Essirise looks curiously at the beaming paladin and says, “Thank you. I shall leave now and will be in touch soon. Will you be here in Io’lokar for some time?”
“Probably not. We need to be back in Khorvaire soon, and we are planning to travel to Khesavuthir. That’s why we are here to talk to Elabenna.”
“Khesavuthir?” The disguised dragon looks surprised. After a second, her expression clears and she says, “I see. You hope to find information there. I would caution you not to do so, since – from what I know – it is an incredibly dangerous place, but it is your decision.” Essirise hesitates again, and then says, “I shall take my leave. It was a pleasure and I hope to speak to you again soon.”
“As do we,” says Gareth, bowing deeply as she departs.
Luna rolls her eyes. “I’m telling Lalia!”
Elabenna returns as Essirise leaves, with the information she promised. Over the next quarter of an hour, she fills in the Angels on what she knows of supposed landmarks near the Black Well. Landmarks more than a few miles away are useless, since the Shadowlands is well known for having a shifting landscape. She also warns of one of the few constants in tales of Khesavuthir, namely the presence of strangely intelligent and unusual wyverns, which can breathe fire and are immune to the same element and resistant to others. They seem to guard the location and fight viciously to defend it, having driven away one expedition and a dragon which separately claimed to have found the location.
As promised, she also provides Nameless with access to a few powerful spells, mostly divinations. Once that is done, the Angels take their leave, promising to contact her as soon as they learn something useful. Nameless then studies the detailed description of the last location her previous expedition had been known to have reached, and transports the Angels away.
* * *
The five of them appear in the middle of a desolate landscape. Rough, broken stony ground stretches away around them, the terrain constantly broken up with small rises and depressions, a few hills or small mountains stretching towards the thickly cloudy sky above it. The area seems a little unnaturally dark, even with the completely overcast sky and lack of visible sun overhead, presumably the reason why it is known as the Shadowlands.
Not that the Angels spend much time on the consideration of geographical features or weather, since there are some distractions close at hand. Less than a hundred feet from them are a number of creatures forming an interesting, if potentially deadly, tableau. The center-piece is a hulking bipedal creature, with a stooped frame, a gray hairless body, and massively muscled shoulders. Long, thickly sinewy arms hang down to the ground, ending in huge, clawed hands. Its sloped forehead bears six small yellowish eyes.
The creature, which some of the Angels identify as a gray render, has its arms raised threateningly and mouthful of sharp, black teeth bared, and has backed up against a large boulder. Surrounding it are four large reptiles, each a dozen feet in length. The heavily muscled creatures look like wingless dragons, though their bodies are more compact and necks comparatively shorter. The heads which top their red-scaled bodies have large, fang-filled mouths, now snarling with bloodlust as they move in on their lone target. Though the gray render’s huge bulk dwarfs theirs, it is clear that they have the advantage due to the numbers.
But then the situation changes. As the Angels appear, the draconic creatures’ heads snap around. Barely taking a second to consider the intruders, they spin around and charge, with jaws agape and emitting bestial roars. Their long legs cover the ground incredibly fast, and in seconds, they hurtle into the Angels. Or three of them do. As the one furthest in the rear turns, the gray render leaps onto its back. Its huge bulk bears the smaller creature to the ground and the render sinks its claws deep into the draconic hide, ripping and tearing away gobbets of flesh. Its target screams in pain and fury and rolls over, biting and clawing violently, though its smaller size and the render’s position makes its attacks less effective than could be.
Having identified the draconic creatures as rage drakes, a particularly vicious and unintelligent kind of flightless dragon which is also found in Khorvaire, Nameless shouts a warning to his friends, but before they can respond the attackers are among them.
The first of the creatures hurls itself at Gareth, claws flashing and teeth snapping. The rage drake’s attack seems wildly chaotic and unpremeditated, but there is a deadly method to the madness. As the front claws rip at the target’s upper torso, they attempt to grab hold as well, allowing the creature to arch its back and bring up its hind legs suddenly, so that they can rip into the enemy’s unprotected underbelly and disembowel it with a quick sweep of the rear claws. And if that’s not enough, the large fangs grab the enemy – especially if it is smaller – and the rage drake snaps its head back and forth, shaking and disorienting its prey and rendering it incapable of response.* Though the paladin’s heavy armor prevents the worst of the onslaught, it cannot fully prevent it. Reeling under the attack, Gareth feels the jaws clamp around his upper left arm and then shake him viciously like a dog playing with a toy, almost dislocating it and leaving him momentarily stunned.
Near him, Luna and Six too suffer a similar result, neither druid nor warforged being able to resist the tremendous assault. Six’s spiked chain drops from his grasp as his mechanical senses reel, and Luna cries out as her unarmored form is ravaged by her attacker’s teeth and claws despite Mordain’s augmentations.
Nameless, having had the others around him while he teleported them, is left untouched and hurriedly takes to the air, calling forth a pair of huge earth elementals once he is safely out of reach. Korm too takes advantage of being momentarily untargeted and casts an especially powerful arc of lightning, placing it so that the electrical discharge strikes the creatures but not his allies in their grasp.** Then, not wanting to risk being grabbed like his friends, he swiftly casts a freedom of movement.
Despite Korm’s spell and the arrival of the elementals, the rage drakes remain focused on their targets, continuing to rip and tear at them. The latter, however, slowly gather their senses once the initial surprise has passed and fight back. The Endless Blade shrinks to the size of a dagger and Gareth stabs it again and again into his attacker’s skull, calling on the powers gifted by the Silver Flame to do amazing damage for such a small weapon. Luna simply transforms into a giant tendriculos, forcing open the jaws of the now much smaller rage drake and towering over it. As she does so, she quickly adds a swift healing spell to close some of her wounds.
Six, unfortunately, doesn’t have that option. As the warforged gathers his senses and prepares to call on the powers of his shadow armor, the rage drake continues to worry him, apparently undeterred by his unappetizingly mechanical form. Unluckily, one of its raking claws slides off his breastplate and into the fibrous bundles linking his torso to his waist. The scrabbling claws dig deep, grab hold for a second, and then rip away, taking a vital part of Six with them. The warforged convulses and screams as agony shoots through him and then goes limp.*** The rage drake drops him with a snarl and turns to the others.
“Crap! Six is down! Someone heal me!” shouts Gareth, still struggling in his attacker’s mouth, the rage drake showing no signs of releasing him even though Nameless’ elementals are pounding into it. But then the alienist summons two more to attack the same creature, and Korm releases another arc of lightning. The combined assault is too much and the creature finally succumbs, its half-broken and scorched body sagging to the ground. Gareth pulls himself from its mouth, only to find Six’s attacker facing him.
Luna’s attacker is having a comparatively difficult time against the now huge druid, but even the tendriculos’ tough (and, on Luna, magically enhanced) bark is no match for its teeth and claws. “Luna!” shouts Nameless as she first batters the drake with her tentacles and then reels from its assault, “Heal yourself!”
“And Korm – heal me!” he shouts again, causing Korm to snicker and move in to help the paladin. As Gareth tries to hold back the attacking drake, the Gatekeeper casts the spell and reaches out to touch him, hand glowing with positive energy. But what both Gareth and Korm have forgotten in the heat of battle is the magical cloak the paladin wears, which displaces him slightly so that he is not exactly where he seems to be. The reaching hand that seemed about to touch Gareth’s shoulder simply passes by.
“What are you doing?!” yells Gareth, as the drake’s attack forces him and Korm momentarily apart.
The Gatekeeper frowns in confusion and then realizes what happened. “It’s your bloody cloak!”
“Sh*t! Luna!” shouts Gareth, as blood pours from more wounds, knowing that he has maybe only seconds in hand.
Luna, who is in the process of casting a heal growls irritably. “Fine – you wuss!” Her giant tentacle reaches out and smacks Gareth squarely in the back, channeling her spell into him instead. The paladin gasps in relief and at the sensation of his mangled flesh knitting itself back together, until he is completely healthy again, and leaps back at the drake with renewed energy.
Luna’s foe takes advantage of her momentary distraction to leap upon her, opening new wounds and almost bearing her to the ground. With a scream of mingled pain and frustration, she calls to her beast spirit. The omnipresent invisible presence answers, bringing forth the spell she had placed in its care in advance, and the befuddled drake is forced away as an envigorating cocoon expands around her.
Even as Luna protects herself, Six weakly lifts his head****. Realizing that he can’t afford to remain here and be a target, the warforged calls on his harness. Shadows wrap around him and then he is gone, appearing safely behind a rock fifty feet away.
Not that Six need have worried. Only the two drakes remain, both of which are wounded, and with the four huge elementals, Nameless’ spells and a rejuvenated Gareth opposed to them, they quickly go down in bloody ruin, snarling and fighting viciously to the end. Much to the disgust of Luna, who is ensconced safely within her cocoon and thoroughly irritated at the prospect of having nothing more to vent her bloodlust on, especially since she got to do little other than heal.
Luna’s irritation is swiftly compounded by what happens next. With the battle at an end, the Angels notice that there is one more creature still alive besides them. The gray render stands over the corpse of the drake it has slain, its huge chest heaving with exertion. Though victorious, it has taken tremendous punishment, and blood streams off its thick gray hide, some of which hangs in ribbons and reveals flesh and bone below. As they watch, it slumps to a knee, emitting a groan.
Korm looks down at his hand, still glowing with the unexpended heal spell, and makes an instant decision, fueled at least partly by the response he expects from Luna. Which is instantly forthcoming as he strides towards the wounded creature.
“Korm!” Luna shouts from inside the cocoon, pounding in anger at the immobile bubble of force, “Don’t you dare! I’m the druid here! It’s my jo….”
Grinning broadly, the Gatekeeper grins and reaches out for the render. It glances at him with the six eyes, their light dimmed by pain and weakness, and feebly attempts to avoid his grasp. Then, as he touches it and the spell takes effect, it reflexively throws itself backwards, growling at the unexpected and strange sensation.
Korm readies himself in case it attacks, but the render is pawing confusedly at itself, checking its wounds and finding them gone. It glances at Korm, back at itself, and back to the Gatekeeper. Then it rises to its full height, towering well above him, and carefully extends a huge clawed arm. With surprising care, it gently caresses his shoulder and then folds its hand into a fist, rubbing the giant knuckles against his head. Korm winces slightly and then turns to grin back at the others. “I believe he has grown to love me.”
“Interesting,” says Nameless in a tone of academic curiosity. “I believe gray renders, though I’ve not encountered one previously, have the idiosyncratic habit of fixating on some other creature, whether it wants the attention or not, and following it around to protect it. It’s possible that your action has led to it imprinting o…”
“Imprinting?! I’ll f*cking imprint you right here!” bellows Luna, as she emerges from the disappearing cocoon. Unfortunately, due to the effects of the tongue, the bellow emerges as a shrill scream, which doesn’t help the effect. “Damn it, Korm! You know I wanted to do that! I should arc of lightning you right now – you and your dumb gray friend!”
For a second, Korm half expects her to actually do that, but then she controls herself with an effort that sends a shudder up and down her tentacles. “You’re just bloody lucky I’m a real druid and wouldn’t hurt an animal!”
“Actually,” begins Nameless, “It would be more correct to categorize it as a magical …”
Luna lifts an appendage as thick around as his head and waves it in front of the alienist. “Talk to the tentacle! Like I care any more!” She turns her back and strides over to check on Six and on Gareth.
“Well,” says Korm, letting out a breath and jerking a thumb at the gray render, which has now retreated to a distance of about a hundred feet and is watching the group, “What do we do with him?”
“He could come in pretty handy in a fight,” points out Gareth.
“Unfortunately,” opines Six, “We’d have to walk in order to accompany it, and that would take too much time. Right, Nameless?”
“Right. We have to use the stags and steed if we’re to have any hope of covering this area quickly.”
After a little discussion, the Angels all agree they can’t take along their new friend. Summoning the magical mounts, they take to the air and soar away. The gray render watches in evident puzzlement and then breaks into a slow lope after them, but is quickly left behind.
“Damn,” says Korm, “I miss him already!”
* Pounce, rake, improved grab, and worry (since I advanced these a few HD, DC 34 Fort save or be stunned). Rage drakes (MM3) have it all!
** This was me being a nice guy, since the arc of lightning should arguably have hit the PCs, who were currently grappled and in the same squares as the rage drakes.
*** Six went from 128 hp to -10 in two rounds.
**** We’re using the pseudo-4e death and dying rules now, and he rolled a natural 20 to stabilize, which brought him back to a quarter of his hit pts.
The next level is the Sunward, the home to higher-rank spellcasters, low-grade academics, and the city’s most respected entertainers. Although the cobbled streets of this area are quieter than of the two previous wards, there is constant activity around areas such as Lightstorm, the communal enclave of study and residence for the bards and illusionists who maintain the city’s theatrical traditions, or the Black Stage, the largest among Iolokar’s amphitheaters, with its shadow magic augmented performances. Much quieter but just as unusual as these areas to non-Io’lokari are the many large gardens dotting the Sunward, where plant growths and other spells of the druid gardeners blends with planar magic tapping into the power of Lamannia, the Twilight Forest, evidently provides an entire season’s growth every single day.
Beyond the Sunward lies the Angels’ destination, the Height, a stately hub of academic and scholarly tradition, and thus the virtual heart of Io’lokar. Here lie the city’s four great colleges, as well as the apartments of their wizards, sages and loremasters. Unlike the more eclectic buildings of the lower wards, the architecture here has a more consistent bent, reflecting the soaring stone and crystalline style one might see in the draconic observatories of Argonnessen. Only the massively fortified walls of the Bastion, home to the most powerful residents of the city and the Masters’ Hall, stands above the Height.
The Angels meet Elabenna inside one of the colleges in a large cluttered office, strewn with piles of books and documents. The elderly elven woman greets them politely and leads them to a more spacious meeting area, where she explains that their inquiries drew her attention due to the reference to Khesavuthir, a pet project of hers. She covers some of the details of the last expedition she sent into the Shadowlands in search of the place, which was led by three Io’lokari scholars, all of whom were skilled warrior-mages in their own right. They disappeared without a trace, and though her divinations reveal that the three are alive, she has never been able to locate them.
“It’s very vexing,” she explains. “Even discern locations have had no effect, and I have attempted them multiple times. I once even attempted a wish, but to no avail.”
A wish?! Nameless studies the elderly academic with increased interest and some respect. “I presume,” he says, trying to modulate his rasping tones as much as he can, “You have some idea for how we can help each other beneficially in this regard?”
“Yes,” says Elabenna. “The scholars did send me regular updates on their progress, and I have the location of their last message, a spot I believe to be relatively close to Khesavuthir. I could provide you with that information and you could begin your search for Khesavuthir there. If you find it and return with any lore that you recover, I will pay handsomely for it, especially if you are interested in having spells – particularly divinations – cast for you.”
“That sounds doable,” says Nameless. “I am an arcanist, though apparently not of your skill. Would you be willing to share some spells with me before we leave?”
“Yes. So am I to take it that you are all interested in my proposition?”
“Yeah,” says Luna, “But I was wondering something – which of these three places we’ve been asking about would have information about aberrations. And am I important or famous?”
Elabenna stares at her in confusion for a moment. “I beg your pardon?”
“I mean in this Prophecy thingy. Am I mentioned in it? I’m Luna,” the shifter adds helpfully.
“I cannot say that I have encountered any references to you,” Elabenna says carefully, “But my specialization is the Prophecy as it refers to Io’lokar. And Khesavuthir, I’m sure, would contain lore about aberrations, as would the Burning Tower and certainly the Tapestry. Whether you could access it in the Burning Tower and the Tapestry, of course, is another matter. They could both be very dangerous for you.”
“Isn’t Khesavuthir supposed to be very dangerous too?” asks Six. “A bronze dragon in the Vast said so.”
“Well, yes,” admits Elabenna, “But it is unclear what danger is there, whereas the dangers in the Burning Tower and the Tapestry are clear.”
“I don’t see not knowing as a good thing,” points out Korm.
“I do have some information about dangers encountered by an expedition – not mine – and a dragon which claimed to have found the place, and some supposed landmarks in the area, so that should help somewhat.”
“So someone found it and returned?” asks Gareth. “What did they say they found there?”
“They were unable to enter, due to the aforementioned dangers. But I can give you that information if you agree to go. Are you interested?”
“Yes, we are,” says Nameless decisively, and Gareth adds his voice in agreement. “This is the riskiest, but best option for us.”
“Excellent,” says Elabenna. “I shall go and bring you the information you need. But there is someone here to meet you. An acquaintance of mine heard you were here and expressed an interest in seeing you.” As if on cue, a much younger elven woman walks through the door. Elabenna nods and then says, “This is Essirise. What she has to discuss with you is none of my business, so I’ll go get the information I mentioned.” She dimension doors away.
Six studies the newcomer. “Are you a dragon?”
“Yes,” Essirise replies simply, with a smile which – now that she has identified herself – seems to have a slightly reptilian cast to it. “I am a member of the Chamber. I believe you are interested in visiting the Tapestry? I presume regarding the situation in Khorvaire with Xoriat?”
“Yes. So you do know what’s going on there?” asks Six. “I had wanted to contact your people in Khorvaire and didn’t know exactly how to do so.”
“Recently, some members of the Chamber attempted to contact you in Sharn as well, but you were elsewhere when they did so. A pity, but no matter, we still have some time.” She looks around at the group. “I have not been in Khorvaire for many decades, but I have heard of you and your actions. What do you wish of the Chamber and the Tapestry?”
“We need information and help,” replies Luna. “We’ve got to find out how to keep bloody Xoriat away and make new seals and maybe get some allies and find out about the Prophecy and …”
Nameless interrupts her quickly. “We are mainly interested in finding a way to sunder or block off Xoriat from Eberron again, and information about the dimensional seals would be very valuable to us. Especially knowledge about how to make more.”
“Hmmm,” says Essirise thoughtfully. “The Tapestry, as you apparently know, is home to the Chamber, and hence, of the dragons who would be willing to actively aid Khorvaire. But there are still limits on what we can – and are willing to – do, and sharing knowledge of the construction of the seals would breach those boundaries, many would say.”
“But what about Vvaraak?” asks Korm. “She taught my people how to make them.”
Essirise smiles. “True, but that was an unusual case. Anyway, I would like to help as we can. Would you be willing to plead your case before the leaders of the Chamber?”
“Absolutely,” says Gareth, face lighting up instantly at the prospect of addressing a collection of dragons. “We would love to have the opportunity.”
“Good. I shall travel to the Tapestry today and speak to others there and see what I can arrange. Then I shall contact you.”
“How soon will this occur?” asks Six. “Time is an issue for us.”
“It will take at least a week and likely more,” says the dragon, a trifle apologetically. “Not only will I need to contact many who dwell at widely separate locations, but discussions will be slow – by your standards. Our sense of time varies a great deal from yours.”
“That’s all right,” Gareth adds quickly. “We appreciate your efforts a great deal.”
Essirise looks curiously at the beaming paladin and says, “Thank you. I shall leave now and will be in touch soon. Will you be here in Io’lokar for some time?”
“Probably not. We need to be back in Khorvaire soon, and we are planning to travel to Khesavuthir. That’s why we are here to talk to Elabenna.”
“Khesavuthir?” The disguised dragon looks surprised. After a second, her expression clears and she says, “I see. You hope to find information there. I would caution you not to do so, since – from what I know – it is an incredibly dangerous place, but it is your decision.” Essirise hesitates again, and then says, “I shall take my leave. It was a pleasure and I hope to speak to you again soon.”
“As do we,” says Gareth, bowing deeply as she departs.
Luna rolls her eyes. “I’m telling Lalia!”
Elabenna returns as Essirise leaves, with the information she promised. Over the next quarter of an hour, she fills in the Angels on what she knows of supposed landmarks near the Black Well. Landmarks more than a few miles away are useless, since the Shadowlands is well known for having a shifting landscape. She also warns of one of the few constants in tales of Khesavuthir, namely the presence of strangely intelligent and unusual wyverns, which can breathe fire and are immune to the same element and resistant to others. They seem to guard the location and fight viciously to defend it, having driven away one expedition and a dragon which separately claimed to have found the location.
As promised, she also provides Nameless with access to a few powerful spells, mostly divinations. Once that is done, the Angels take their leave, promising to contact her as soon as they learn something useful. Nameless then studies the detailed description of the last location her previous expedition had been known to have reached, and transports the Angels away.
* * *
The five of them appear in the middle of a desolate landscape. Rough, broken stony ground stretches away around them, the terrain constantly broken up with small rises and depressions, a few hills or small mountains stretching towards the thickly cloudy sky above it. The area seems a little unnaturally dark, even with the completely overcast sky and lack of visible sun overhead, presumably the reason why it is known as the Shadowlands.
Not that the Angels spend much time on the consideration of geographical features or weather, since there are some distractions close at hand. Less than a hundred feet from them are a number of creatures forming an interesting, if potentially deadly, tableau. The center-piece is a hulking bipedal creature, with a stooped frame, a gray hairless body, and massively muscled shoulders. Long, thickly sinewy arms hang down to the ground, ending in huge, clawed hands. Its sloped forehead bears six small yellowish eyes.
The creature, which some of the Angels identify as a gray render, has its arms raised threateningly and mouthful of sharp, black teeth bared, and has backed up against a large boulder. Surrounding it are four large reptiles, each a dozen feet in length. The heavily muscled creatures look like wingless dragons, though their bodies are more compact and necks comparatively shorter. The heads which top their red-scaled bodies have large, fang-filled mouths, now snarling with bloodlust as they move in on their lone target. Though the gray render’s huge bulk dwarfs theirs, it is clear that they have the advantage due to the numbers.
But then the situation changes. As the Angels appear, the draconic creatures’ heads snap around. Barely taking a second to consider the intruders, they spin around and charge, with jaws agape and emitting bestial roars. Their long legs cover the ground incredibly fast, and in seconds, they hurtle into the Angels. Or three of them do. As the one furthest in the rear turns, the gray render leaps onto its back. Its huge bulk bears the smaller creature to the ground and the render sinks its claws deep into the draconic hide, ripping and tearing away gobbets of flesh. Its target screams in pain and fury and rolls over, biting and clawing violently, though its smaller size and the render’s position makes its attacks less effective than could be.
Having identified the draconic creatures as rage drakes, a particularly vicious and unintelligent kind of flightless dragon which is also found in Khorvaire, Nameless shouts a warning to his friends, but before they can respond the attackers are among them.
The first of the creatures hurls itself at Gareth, claws flashing and teeth snapping. The rage drake’s attack seems wildly chaotic and unpremeditated, but there is a deadly method to the madness. As the front claws rip at the target’s upper torso, they attempt to grab hold as well, allowing the creature to arch its back and bring up its hind legs suddenly, so that they can rip into the enemy’s unprotected underbelly and disembowel it with a quick sweep of the rear claws. And if that’s not enough, the large fangs grab the enemy – especially if it is smaller – and the rage drake snaps its head back and forth, shaking and disorienting its prey and rendering it incapable of response.* Though the paladin’s heavy armor prevents the worst of the onslaught, it cannot fully prevent it. Reeling under the attack, Gareth feels the jaws clamp around his upper left arm and then shake him viciously like a dog playing with a toy, almost dislocating it and leaving him momentarily stunned.
Near him, Luna and Six too suffer a similar result, neither druid nor warforged being able to resist the tremendous assault. Six’s spiked chain drops from his grasp as his mechanical senses reel, and Luna cries out as her unarmored form is ravaged by her attacker’s teeth and claws despite Mordain’s augmentations.
Nameless, having had the others around him while he teleported them, is left untouched and hurriedly takes to the air, calling forth a pair of huge earth elementals once he is safely out of reach. Korm too takes advantage of being momentarily untargeted and casts an especially powerful arc of lightning, placing it so that the electrical discharge strikes the creatures but not his allies in their grasp.** Then, not wanting to risk being grabbed like his friends, he swiftly casts a freedom of movement.
Despite Korm’s spell and the arrival of the elementals, the rage drakes remain focused on their targets, continuing to rip and tear at them. The latter, however, slowly gather their senses once the initial surprise has passed and fight back. The Endless Blade shrinks to the size of a dagger and Gareth stabs it again and again into his attacker’s skull, calling on the powers gifted by the Silver Flame to do amazing damage for such a small weapon. Luna simply transforms into a giant tendriculos, forcing open the jaws of the now much smaller rage drake and towering over it. As she does so, she quickly adds a swift healing spell to close some of her wounds.
Six, unfortunately, doesn’t have that option. As the warforged gathers his senses and prepares to call on the powers of his shadow armor, the rage drake continues to worry him, apparently undeterred by his unappetizingly mechanical form. Unluckily, one of its raking claws slides off his breastplate and into the fibrous bundles linking his torso to his waist. The scrabbling claws dig deep, grab hold for a second, and then rip away, taking a vital part of Six with them. The warforged convulses and screams as agony shoots through him and then goes limp.*** The rage drake drops him with a snarl and turns to the others.
“Crap! Six is down! Someone heal me!” shouts Gareth, still struggling in his attacker’s mouth, the rage drake showing no signs of releasing him even though Nameless’ elementals are pounding into it. But then the alienist summons two more to attack the same creature, and Korm releases another arc of lightning. The combined assault is too much and the creature finally succumbs, its half-broken and scorched body sagging to the ground. Gareth pulls himself from its mouth, only to find Six’s attacker facing him.
Luna’s attacker is having a comparatively difficult time against the now huge druid, but even the tendriculos’ tough (and, on Luna, magically enhanced) bark is no match for its teeth and claws. “Luna!” shouts Nameless as she first batters the drake with her tentacles and then reels from its assault, “Heal yourself!”
“And Korm – heal me!” he shouts again, causing Korm to snicker and move in to help the paladin. As Gareth tries to hold back the attacking drake, the Gatekeeper casts the spell and reaches out to touch him, hand glowing with positive energy. But what both Gareth and Korm have forgotten in the heat of battle is the magical cloak the paladin wears, which displaces him slightly so that he is not exactly where he seems to be. The reaching hand that seemed about to touch Gareth’s shoulder simply passes by.
“What are you doing?!” yells Gareth, as the drake’s attack forces him and Korm momentarily apart.
The Gatekeeper frowns in confusion and then realizes what happened. “It’s your bloody cloak!”
“Sh*t! Luna!” shouts Gareth, as blood pours from more wounds, knowing that he has maybe only seconds in hand.
Luna, who is in the process of casting a heal growls irritably. “Fine – you wuss!” Her giant tentacle reaches out and smacks Gareth squarely in the back, channeling her spell into him instead. The paladin gasps in relief and at the sensation of his mangled flesh knitting itself back together, until he is completely healthy again, and leaps back at the drake with renewed energy.
Luna’s foe takes advantage of her momentary distraction to leap upon her, opening new wounds and almost bearing her to the ground. With a scream of mingled pain and frustration, she calls to her beast spirit. The omnipresent invisible presence answers, bringing forth the spell she had placed in its care in advance, and the befuddled drake is forced away as an envigorating cocoon expands around her.
Even as Luna protects herself, Six weakly lifts his head****. Realizing that he can’t afford to remain here and be a target, the warforged calls on his harness. Shadows wrap around him and then he is gone, appearing safely behind a rock fifty feet away.
Not that Six need have worried. Only the two drakes remain, both of which are wounded, and with the four huge elementals, Nameless’ spells and a rejuvenated Gareth opposed to them, they quickly go down in bloody ruin, snarling and fighting viciously to the end. Much to the disgust of Luna, who is ensconced safely within her cocoon and thoroughly irritated at the prospect of having nothing more to vent her bloodlust on, especially since she got to do little other than heal.
Luna’s irritation is swiftly compounded by what happens next. With the battle at an end, the Angels notice that there is one more creature still alive besides them. The gray render stands over the corpse of the drake it has slain, its huge chest heaving with exertion. Though victorious, it has taken tremendous punishment, and blood streams off its thick gray hide, some of which hangs in ribbons and reveals flesh and bone below. As they watch, it slumps to a knee, emitting a groan.
Korm looks down at his hand, still glowing with the unexpended heal spell, and makes an instant decision, fueled at least partly by the response he expects from Luna. Which is instantly forthcoming as he strides towards the wounded creature.
“Korm!” Luna shouts from inside the cocoon, pounding in anger at the immobile bubble of force, “Don’t you dare! I’m the druid here! It’s my jo….”
Grinning broadly, the Gatekeeper grins and reaches out for the render. It glances at him with the six eyes, their light dimmed by pain and weakness, and feebly attempts to avoid his grasp. Then, as he touches it and the spell takes effect, it reflexively throws itself backwards, growling at the unexpected and strange sensation.
Korm readies himself in case it attacks, but the render is pawing confusedly at itself, checking its wounds and finding them gone. It glances at Korm, back at itself, and back to the Gatekeeper. Then it rises to its full height, towering well above him, and carefully extends a huge clawed arm. With surprising care, it gently caresses his shoulder and then folds its hand into a fist, rubbing the giant knuckles against his head. Korm winces slightly and then turns to grin back at the others. “I believe he has grown to love me.”
“Interesting,” says Nameless in a tone of academic curiosity. “I believe gray renders, though I’ve not encountered one previously, have the idiosyncratic habit of fixating on some other creature, whether it wants the attention or not, and following it around to protect it. It’s possible that your action has led to it imprinting o…”
“Imprinting?! I’ll f*cking imprint you right here!” bellows Luna, as she emerges from the disappearing cocoon. Unfortunately, due to the effects of the tongue, the bellow emerges as a shrill scream, which doesn’t help the effect. “Damn it, Korm! You know I wanted to do that! I should arc of lightning you right now – you and your dumb gray friend!”
For a second, Korm half expects her to actually do that, but then she controls herself with an effort that sends a shudder up and down her tentacles. “You’re just bloody lucky I’m a real druid and wouldn’t hurt an animal!”
“Actually,” begins Nameless, “It would be more correct to categorize it as a magical …”
Luna lifts an appendage as thick around as his head and waves it in front of the alienist. “Talk to the tentacle! Like I care any more!” She turns her back and strides over to check on Six and on Gareth.
“Well,” says Korm, letting out a breath and jerking a thumb at the gray render, which has now retreated to a distance of about a hundred feet and is watching the group, “What do we do with him?”
“He could come in pretty handy in a fight,” points out Gareth.
“Unfortunately,” opines Six, “We’d have to walk in order to accompany it, and that would take too much time. Right, Nameless?”
“Right. We have to use the stags and steed if we’re to have any hope of covering this area quickly.”
After a little discussion, the Angels all agree they can’t take along their new friend. Summoning the magical mounts, they take to the air and soar away. The gray render watches in evident puzzlement and then breaks into a slow lope after them, but is quickly left behind.
“Damn,” says Korm, “I miss him already!”
* Pounce, rake, improved grab, and worry (since I advanced these a few HD, DC 34 Fort save or be stunned). Rage drakes (MM3) have it all!
** This was me being a nice guy, since the arc of lightning should arguably have hit the PCs, who were currently grappled and in the same squares as the rage drakes.
*** Six went from 128 hp to -10 in two rounds.
**** We’re using the pseudo-4e death and dying rules now, and he rolled a natural 20 to stabilize, which brought him back to a quarter of his hit pts.
carborundum
Adventurer
LOL - nice try!
Sweet update, Mr Shilsen! The Grey Render is brilliant - has he got a name yet? (I'm assuming he'll be back?) I suppose Cuddles is too clichéd? Maybe Gary?
Sweet update, Mr Shilsen! The Grey Render is brilliant - has he got a name yet? (I'm assuming he'll be back?) I suppose Cuddles is too clichéd? Maybe Gary?
shilsen
Adventurer
Vorput said:
Ah, I see what you're doing!
*flips out and beats Vorput with a stick, which has a surprisingly Hong-shaped indentation in it*
carborundum said:
Actually, the players decided that they should name him Pookie. Sadly, they couldn't take Pookie with them, so he's running somewhere through the Shadowlands right now, looking for that orcish druid he loves.
And speaking of Gary, let's just say (cue maniacal laughter) you're way better at predicting the future than you might think. And my players never, ever want to hear that name again.
carborundum
Adventurer
/thinks of scary Garys (or is it Garies? 
)
Gary Busey can be scary, Gary Oldman too. Creepiest has to be Gary Coleman though.
"What'chu talkin' 'bout, Nameless?"
)Gary Busey can be scary, Gary Oldman too. Creepiest has to be Gary Coleman though.
"What'chu talkin' 'bout, Nameless?"
shilsen
Adventurer
And, like clockwork, I have an update for youVorput said:Well, we're at that 15 day mark again...
* * * * * * * * * *
The Guardian Angels soar through the air above the Shadowland, the broken tundra unrolling swiftly beneath them. The area is superficially similar to the Mournland with a sky full of low-hanging storm clouds, which makes visibility poor, but otherwise there are significant differences. The random rocky peaks which break up the landscape, for one, and, more importantly for the Angels, the knowledge that all their magic should work here.
The magical mounts certainly function as normal, bearing the riders at tremendous speed above the barren landscape. As they ride, the Angels watch for the landmarks which Elabenna had listed for them as indicating proximity to Khesavuthir, especially a lone mountain which is supposed to be carved with the visage of a red dragon, resembling the giant monoliths off Totem Beach.
A couple of hours pass, with the Angels seeing nothing that matches the landmarks they are looking for, even though they have covered over a hundred miles. The one thing they do discover is that the landscape in the Shadowland shifts slowly but constantly. Areas which seem to be near each other turn out to be much further apart, and on the odd occasion when they retrace their steps to ascertain their positions and directions, the areas they have passed over seem slightly different now. And when they head towards a particular landmark, they slowly seem to drift off-course in the process, regularly having to turn their steeds slightly to maintain the same direction.
“Maybe it’s these damn mountains which are shifting around?” asks Luna, looking irritably at the clouds as if they personally offended her. “Without being able to see the sun it’s hard to be sure about direction, but it always seems off by a bit when we do.”
“Who knows?” shrugs Gareth. He glances at Nameless. “You said there’s no magic at work, right?”
“Correct,” replies the alienist. “These effects are all natural to the place. Of course, given that Elabenna said this area is a result of the dragon-demon wars, natural goes only thus far. Luckily, we have many more hours in the day, so we can cover a lot more ground before having to rest. I suggest…”
“Heads up!” Six calls a warning, pointing ahead. “We’ve got company coming right for us.” He peers at the swiftly approaching shapes with his lidless eyes. “They’re some sort of … X-wing?”
The response is appropriate, given the weird shape of the approaching creatures. Each has a sinuous, snakelike body with a long neck and tail. Most of the body is covered with iridescent blue scales, with tufts of yellow feathers at the base of the neck and tail. The head has four eyes, one pair above the black, toothed beak and the other pair below. But the most unusual feature is the two pairs of feathered wings extending from the body, one pair above and one below, each wing at a right angle to the ones closest to it and forming an X-shape.
Nameless takes a quick look at the strange beasts and calls, “Arrowhawks! We’re too fast for them, so just fly around them.” His phantom steed responds immediately to the command, peeling away at a sharp angle and speeding away. The rest of the Angels comply, not wanting to waste time with these creatures.
Or at least most of them do. Seconds later, they look back to see Korm urging his stag at the creatures. “Korm!” yells Gareth, “What are you doing?” The answer is swift. “Enjoying myself!”
With the combined speed of his stag and the arrowhawks, Korm rockets into them in seconds, yelling with excitement. As he gets within fifty feet, each arrowhawk whips its tail towards him, sending a crackling blue ray at the Gatekeeper. All four hit unerringly, and Korm’s yells take on a surprised tone as his hair stands on end from the electrical discharges. He responds with a two-handed chop that lays open one creature’s side, and then turns his mount so that he can attack again.
The arrowhawks promptly wheel around with perfect precision and spin around him in elliptical orbits, continuing to fire their electrical rays, almost all of them hitting. Within seconds, Korm realizes that this is getting far more dangerous than he’d expected. A swift resist energy takes care of the electrical attacks, but, to his disgust, the arrowhawks switch to vicious bites which are almost as effective.
“Aaah! Damn it!” Irritated, the Gatekeeper calls on another of his innate powers and fixes one of the arrowhawks with a baleful gaze. To his own mild surprise, his version of the evil eye actually takes effect. Without a sound, the target shuts its four eyes and plummets towards the ground five hundred feet below.
“Yes!” exults Korm, a second before two slashing beaks bite into him. “Sh*t!” He quickly commands his stag and it obediently shoots away, leaving the three pursuing creatures behind.
When he rejoins the others, who had stopped a long distance away and were watching with a mixture of amusement and irritation, Six asks, “What was that about?”
“Just enjoying myself,” grins Korm, chest heaving with his exertions, “Since I needed a little exercise.” He looks down at the scorch marks on his body. “Ow! Seriously – who creates a four-winged creature which can shoot lightning bolts from its ass?”
“Don’t look at me,” says Nameless dryly. “You can’t blame even the daelkyr for that weird monstrosity. Now we’ve wasted enough time. Come on!”
* * *
Another hour later, it is Luna who spots the mountain the Angels have been looking for, standing alone miles from any others and its summit visibly carved in the shape of a dragon. The adventurers arrow towards it, looking around for other landmarks that Elabenna mentioned. When they are approximately three miles from it, they spot something on the ground, or more precisely, in it. About half a mile away are two draconic skeletons, both of them seemingly rearing up to fight, each stretching over a hundred feet in length. A quick study reveals that, just as Elabenna had mentioned, their lower sections are partly buried within the ground, and they seem to have been petrified.
“I wonder if these are real skeletons or created by someone,” wonders Gareth aloud.
“From the detail, I’d guess they are real, but we’d have to go down and check to be sure,” says Nameless. “Which we don’t need to waste time on.”
“Maybe we could take them with us to decorate the new house,” suggests Luna.
“Really?” Korm rolls his eyes. “They’d be bigger than the entire house! And how would we transport them?”
“I don’t know!” Luna gestures at Nameless. “He’s always saying how much of a genius he is, so ask him! I just suggest the decorations. You guys are the ones who need to work out how it should happen.”
“No, we don’t actually need to…”
As usual, Six is more focused on the group’s target than his companions, so he is again the one to interrupt. “Pay attention, people. Look at the dragon head.”
The others focus their attention on the giant carving and see what the warforged already has, slow and massive movement above it. A huge figure pulls itself laboriously onto the crown of the stone dragon’s head and stares at the oncoming Angels. Then it rises clumsily into the air and heads for them.
This creature is clearly draconic too, but its movements are slow and sluggish, and its scaly green hide sports gaping holes and tears. Though the wings are clearly functional and carry it at a good speed, they are ragged and torn, and it seems extremely clumsy in the air. “Zombie!” Nameless says succinctly.
“I thought so,” says Six. “Do zombies retain any of their original abilities?”
“No,” says Gareth.
“In that case, I’ll deal with this,” says Six. “Stay away from it and conserve your spells, please.” The warforged promptly dives his mount towards the ground.
Due as much to curiosity as anything else, the others comply and fly in a wide circle, which the undead dragon has no chance of closing. Six, meanwhile, hops off his steed, grabs up a boulder weighing nearly a hundred pounds, and climbs back on. The magical mount uncomplainingly shoots upwards under his command, rising well above the dragon. The warforged flies a good hundred feet above the zombie dragon, studies its movements and releases the missile. Though the creature attempts to dodge, it is too clumsy to do so and the rock slams into its side, ripping away undead flesh and clearly breaking bones. But it does not react in any way to the blow, simply attempting again to reach Six.
The warforged ignores the attempts and simply drops quickly to the ground again, picking up another rock and then repeating the process. Once, twice and thrice, he batters the hapless undead with more rocks. Though heavily damaged, the zombie continues to follow him, to little effect. Only once, when he happens to fly closer than he planned, passing within fifty feet, does it manage to slightly incommode Six. The zombie belches forth a cone of corrosive acid.
Surprised by the unexpected attack, Six quickly flies away with only some minor damage to his superstructure, and then resumes his attacks. Two more are all it takes, and the zombie tumbles from the sky. The huge body smashes into the rocky ground below, raising dust and cracking the tundra surface, and lies still.
As Six descends beside it, the others rejoin him. “Nice work,” says Korm, before turning to Gareth. “I thought you said zombies lost the original body’s abilities.”
“They do,” confirms the paladin. “Whoever created this one had some unusual skills.”
“I think,” points out Luna, “It’s pretty obvious that anyone who can kill a huge dragon and turn it into a zombie has unusual skills! This thing was big.” She points down at the cracks around the body, and then frowns. “Is it my imagination or is that crack growing?”
Gareth looks down at the area near his feet, feeling it begin to tremble, and opens his mouth to agree. But before he can say a word, the ground crumbles away beneath him. With a startled yell, the paladin disappears as a circle approximately a dozen feet wide caves in, rocks and earth tumbling in above his falling form to hide him from view.
Not that his companions have time to worry about him, as the source of the cave-in appears in his stead, bursting from the ground right beside the spot where Gareth just stood. The creature is almost as large as the zombie dragon was, and is also clearly draconic in form, though it lacks any wings. Its thick and muscular body is covered in dirty ivory scales whose color blends well with that of the earth it emerged from. Backswept horns decorate either side of the thick head and overly large fangs fill its large mouth. With a barking roar, the landwyrm throws itself at the nearest target, which turns out to be Korm.
Before the surprised Gatekeeper can respond, the creature sinks its claws into his chest and side. Its tremendous weight bears him to the ground, and as he struggles to raise his sword, it latches onto his arm. The huge jaws allow it to grasp the entire upper arm, shoulder and half of his chest and back, the sharp fangs biting deep and literally stapling his arm in place.
As Korm cries out in agony, Nameless takes to the air, shouting, “Luna – elemental! Get Gareth out!” The alienist summons a pair of elementals himself, flanking the landwyrm and hammering at it with flaming fists, but it simply growls and shows no signs of releasing its prey. Six’s chain, slashing into a soft spot amidst the hard scales, has no greater success either, and Korm himself is in no position to do anything, pinned in place by his enemy.
The Gatekeeper struggles desperately and feels the jaws relinquish his arm. But even as he feels a surge of hope, Korm realizes that it was intentional, as the landwyrm again bites down, having shifted position slightly so as to be able to literally swallow his entire head. The fangs bite partly into Korm’s head and partly his chest and back, only sheer luck saving his head from being bitten clear off his body.
Not that it much improves Korm’s situation. Amidst the excruciating pain and the stifling darkness and stench within the landwyrm’s mouth, he feels its thick tongue flapping wetly against his head and chest, followed by a draconic gurgle of pleasure. To his horror, Korm realizes that he can hear and feel the creature actually lapping up his life-blood as it holds him in its mouth. Then the jaws tighten and bite deeper and everything goes black.*
Luckily Korm, even as he collapses, only seconds from dying permanently even with Mordain’s augmentations, does have something in hand. To the landwyrm’s surprise, a bubble of force appears around the Gatekeeper, forcing its jaws apart and rendering his unconscious body safe from any further damage.
Meanwhile, under the ground, Gareth is both blessing the fact that his necklace of adaptation keeps him from suffocating under the earth and rock covering his face, and cursing the fact that he’s stuck fast. “Hey, Blade!” he calls, trying – somewhat unsuccessfully – to avoid swallowing any dirt, “Can you get me out?”
“Are you kidding me?” comes an aggrieved – and muffled – voice from nearby. “I can help you fly, but not through the earth.” After a second, the Blade adds, with some satisfaction, “Unless someone digs you out, I’m going to be okay, but I think you’re f*cked!”
“Thanks!” mumbles Gareth. Then, to his inordinate surprise, though he can see nothing, what feels like a giant hand grabs him. And then pulls him inexorably, and painfully, through the ground. The paladin grits his teeth as he feels flesh being stripped away, though the heavy armor protects against the worst of the effect, and then suddenly emerges above the ground. The large earth elemental which brought him to the surface relinquishes him and, at a word from Luna, rushes at the landywrm.
Gareth throws one look around the area, seeing Korm within a cocoon and Six in the grasp of a huge creature, which is being assaulted by two huge fire elementals and spells from Nameless and Luna. No explanation is needed and the paladin hurls himself forward.
The landwyrm, scorched and bruised by the elementals but still full of fight, bites down on the new creature that it has seized. But its teeth clash together uselessly as Six neatly vanishes in a swirl of shadows and reappears similarly thirty feet away. The confused creature looks around and then screams in agony as the Endless Blade slashes down, driven by all the gifts of the Silver Flame, biting deep into the base of the landwyrm’s tail and almost severing its spine.
As the landwyrm spins around towards Gareth, the elementals redouble their attacks, and more spells from Luna and Nameless hit home. Six leaps forward too, shadows coiling around his chain. The landwyrm turns reflexively at the motion, just in time to see the chain leap towards and through its right eye, punching neatly into the brain beyond. Without a sound, the huge beast collapses, Korm’s blood still red on its fangs.
As his cocoon disappears, the rejuvenated Gatekeeper emerges, shaking his head irritably. “That was nasty! I’m just glad it didn’t have friends.”
“And I’m just wondering why we’re here looking for this damn place again,” complains Luna. “That’s the third time today one of you has almost got killed. We’re going to run out of luck sooner or later.”
“We’re here because it’s the best…” begin Gareth and Nameless simultaneously, and then pause to look at each other with a combination of confusion and amusement.
“You two stop agreeing!” growls Luna. “It’s creepy! And an even better indication that you idiots will get us killed.”
“Maybe they will,” shrugs Korm fatalistically, “But it’s interesting to see you this worried. Shouldn’t you be enjoying all the chances to blow things up that they’re giving you?”
“I’m the first person to admit that I like blasting things, but I only do that in self defense or for things that need blasting. I don’t go looking for it, especially not in a place like this.” She waves her arms disgustedly at the trio and looks up at Six, who has flown his stag to the carved dragon’s head and is perched atop it. “See anything?”
“Yes.” Six points in the direction opposite to the one the Angels arrived here from. “There’s a semi-circle of mountains some five-six miles away, just like Elabenna described. But I don’t see the three archways she mentioned as marking the entrance to Khesavuthir.”
“That’s not too surprising,” says Nameless, “And considering that we might be on the verge of discovering a location which has apparently been lost to an entire continent of dragons for ages, I’m not about to complain. Let’s mount up and head there.”
As the Angels fly in, they see that there are actually five mountains forming an arc. When they are about two miles from them, Luna rises slightly in her seat and points at a spot right in the center of the arc. “There! I see some sort of structures. But they’re not fifty feet high archways like she said.”
As they fly closer, the others see what she noticed. There are three broken structures, each about a dozen feet high and perhaps twice as wide, which form a triangle. They surround a large, perfectly circular hole, like the opening of a shaft leading into the ground. The Angels are too far away to make out any more details or where the shaft leads. What they do make out, however, are the three huge creatures which emerge from the nearest of the mounts and wing towards them. Despite the distance, the ungainly shapes and especially the large tails held scorpion-like over their heads identify them clearly as the wyvern guardians the Angels were warned of.
Korm studies their movement and says, “They’re as fast as the stags in a straight line and faster than your steed, Nameless. Do we fight?”
“No,” says the alienist. “Head for the shaft. We’ll take a quick look and if need be, pull back. We’ve got far more maneuverability.”
The Angels urge their mounts to maximum speed, while the wyverns also race forward on their powerful wings from the opposite side. The magical mounts win the race by a few seconds, and as they swoop down their riders can see that the shaft leads perpendicularly down into darkness beyond the range of their vision. Nameless throws a quick look at the wyverns, charging in with gaping mouths, and makes a snap decision. “Down the hole!”
As his steed spins over and dives in, the others follow, with Luna grumbling, “If there’s a wall at the end, we’re all going to look really stupid!”
* Tundra landwyrms (Draconomicon) do Con damage with each grapple check and have Improved Grab. This one was making four checks per turn and doing 1d6 Con damage and 2d8+13 hp with each check.
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shilsen
Adventurer
There is no wall at the bottom, but there is one midway up the tunnel, and an unusual one at that. A hundred feet or so below the surface, Nameless’ eyes widen as his arcane sight suddenly picks up an aura of abjuration extending all the way across the shaft. A wall of Dispel Magic! Unfortunately, with the magical mounts at full gallop and descending, which increases their speed to unbelievable levels, there’s no time to pull up. Not that the Angels could do so safely, as the first wyvern appears at the mouth of the shaft above and drops after them.
Luckily, as the Angels flash through the wall, there are no adverse effects. They have few spells in effect and none are dispelled, and, more importantly, neither are their mounts. “We just went through a wall of dispel magic,” Nameless quickly explains to the others.
There’s no time for discussion, however, as the shaft ends five hundred feet below the surface in a giant circular chamber. Dozens of gigantic tunnels, each at least twenty feet across and completely smooth, lead away from it at different angles, twisting and turning as they plunge deep into the earth. The chamber is completely empty except for the perfectly preserved head of a huge black dragon, which sticks out of a wall. Nameless detects multiple auras on it, the results of which manifest as soon as the Angels enter. The lips seem to move and a strongly resonant, clearly draconic voice says, “Who disturbs the sanctity of Khesavuthir and the rest of Xagygyrag*? Flee! Flee now – or die!”
Even before the magic mouth finishes speaking, Nameless swoops towards the nearest tunnel. “In here!” The Angels fly in and around the first turn, before leaping from their mounts, weapons and spells at the ready for the wyverns to follow.
Unable to see around the corner, they hear the flap of wings and the whooshing sound of giant bodies descending, followed by the clatter of huge claws on stone. Then there is only heavy breathing and muffled growls for a couple of seconds, before a thick voice speaks in draconic. “Shall we go after them?”
“No,” replies a similar voice. “We should have caught them before they entered. Xagygyrag will punish us if he finds us, for our failure and for trespassing. Leave them to him. He will slay them all.”
A third voice adds in, “I agree.”
There is silence for a second and then the sound of heavy, leathery wings flapping.
The Angels wait for a couple of seconds and then Luna cautiously pokes her head around the corner. “They are gone. Who’s Zagy… Xagygy… whoever?”
“Probably the owner or guardian of this place,” says Korm. “And apparently the wyverns are scared of him, and think he can kill us all. Sounds like a fun guy.”
“I wonder if this belongs to him,” says Six, from further down the tunnel. The others turn to see what the warforged is holding up. At first it seems to be a flat, dull black plate of some kind, about the size of a heavy shield. And then they realize that it is a single scale, presumably from a dragon.
There is silence for a moment, and then the Endless Blade says simply, “Motherf*cker!”
Luna says, “What he said. Why are we here again?”
Nameless sighs. “We already covered that. Let’s not start all over again.”
“Agreed, but what about that,” says Korm, pointing at the scale. “If that came off a dragon that’s currently here, it’s big. Really big. And not likely to be friendly.”
“I don’t think we should assume that,” says Gareth. “Maybe we can explain to it why we’re here. After all, it shouldn’t want Xoriat to be here either.”
“Remember, that dragon Bruntu-whatever didn’t care much about Xoriat,” reminds Six. “But if you’re sure you want to go on today, let’s do so. Are you sure?”
After a quick discussion by the others, consisting mostly of Nameless and Gareth wanting to go on, Luna wanting to get some rest and regain spells, and Korm being fairly neutral, the Angels decide to go on. Six takes point, blending into the shadowy walls of the tunnel.
The tunnel coils and curves deeper into the stone, angling slowly downwards into the earth. As the Angels move along it, they encounter more tunnels, nearly all of equivalent size, heading in myriad different directions. Anyone else would be lost here, but Six, Luna and Korm’s unusually keen senses make them fairly certain that they can find their way back. Just to be on the safe side, however, they begin to mark the walls as they pass with chalk, and then with the light stones taken from the Seed in the Mournland, leaving a glowing trail behind them.
The tunnel opens up at intervals into huge chambers. The first two are empty, but not the third. The first thing the Angels notice is the golden gleam at its center, the source of which is a neatly spherical space, a few inches below the level of the floor, apparently full of gold coins. The walls of the room have large ledges which run all around it, each bearing dozens of gigantic stone slabs, each at least a dozen feet tall and perhaps half as wide. Large draconic writing covers the surface of each.
The adventurers enter the chamber cautiously and begin to examine it, focusing on their individual interests. Gareth and Luna make a bee-line for the gold, and discover that it fills a shallow bowl-like indentation which stretches across the floor of the chamber. The paladin asks for the portable hole and quickly begins scooping the gold into it.
Nameless, studying the slabs, comments dryly, “You realize that stealing its treasure will make negotiation with this place’s owners a little difficult, don’t you?”
Gareth pauses, ankle deep in gold coins, and says, “Well – we came here to recover what we can find, didn’t we?”
“Mainly lore about the seals, if I remember correctly,” chuckles Korm, “But don’t let that stop you. Oh, you missed a couple thousand there, you greedy so-and-so.”
Gareth just scowls, but goes back to shoveling coins into the hole with Luna’s help. When he catches the druid’s eye, she says, “You idiots made me come here though I think it’s stupid. If we get out, at least we’re going to take some money with us.”
Behind them, Six turns away from one of the slabs and says, “I can’t read them, Nameless. Are they draconic?”
“Yes,” replies the alienist. “And references to the Prophecy, I’m quite certain. This one reads like a list of marks that have been seen in various places. Including, as far as I can make out, Khorvaire. So either someone has traveled here from Khorvaire or is able to study it from this location.”
“Scrying?”
“Maybe. I wish we could make a list of all of these notes, but it’ll take too long,” he gestures around the chamber at the thirty plus stone slabs.
From across the chamber, Korm says, “Looks like it’s not all about the Prophecy. This one’s all about names and … um, sacrifices. Looks like a list of people or creatures that made some sacrifice to gain knowledge, since they all say, ‘I, whatever the name is, sacrifice here something in exchange for knowledge of the something’. And ….” He pauses and then says, “Well, looks like someone was right. Vvaraak was here.”
Gareth, having cleared the depression of coins, steps over and stares at the slab. Unable to read the language any more than Six can, the paladin says, “What does it say about Vvaraak? And, by the way, there must have been over ten thousand coins in that pile.”
“Good. And it says ‘I, Vvaraakinsiyark, sacrifice here a … I’m not sure how to phrase it, but it’s a draconic term equating to ‘holy avenger’ … in exchange for knowledge of the blood.”
“Knowledge of the blood?” asks Nameless.
“Holy avenger?” asks Gareth, his eyes lighting up. An instant later, a voice growls from his right hand, where he has re-summoned the Endless Blade as a convenient dagger after having collected the coins, “If you even think about trading up for another sword, I will stab you in the face!”
Korm chuckles. “Sword’s got a point. And anyway, apparently she sacrificed it. If this is Vvaraak, which – though I’ve never heard this full form – it is, or was. There are no dates, unfortunately, so that I can be sure. But if Vvaraak was here and obtained this knowledge of the blood, whatever it…”
As now seems to always be the case in times of trouble, Six interrupts. While listening to Korm, the warforged has been looking at other parts of the chamber, including the one tunnel leading away from it, on the opposite side to the one they entered through. This one leads in a straight line beyond the reach of his darkvision and the Angel’s lights. And now, as he looks down it, something stirs in the shadows that he cannot see into. There is no sound and barely any hint of movement, but Six is suddenly very, very certain that he is being watched.
“Guys!”
As the others turn to look towards and past him, Nameless’ arcane sight reveals two faint magical auras in the darkness. Their source is revealed a moment later, as an incredibly deep and clearly draconic voice rumbles, “Who are you that dare trespass in Khesavuthir, the domain of Xagygyrag?”
The voice is followed immediately by the speaker’s appearance, as a serpentine neck over a dozen feet long extends out of the darkness. Atop it is the skull-like head of a gargantuan black dragon, with its segmented horns and protruding teeth.
“Go on, Gareth!” hisses Nameless, and the paladin quickly steps forward. He bows and says, “Great dragon, we mean you no harm. We have come here in search of lore to stop the invasion of Khorvaire by the hordes of Xoriat. If we may explain…”
The dragon Xagygyrag shows no signs of comprehension as it gazes first at Gareth and then past him at the others. Then the deep-socketed eyes narrow slightly. “Fools and thieves!” he rumbles, “Now you shall die.” It surges forward.
Though he doesn’t understand the language, the intent is clear, and Six responds instantly, using his embedded wand to haste the others. Less than a second behind him, Nameless casts a swift shield and then another protective spell to blink in and out of existence. Gareth casts a spell that will allow him to do more damage to larger enemies, even as the Endless Blade – swearing vituperatively – lengthens into a falchion.
Though Gareth stands almost within the tunnel which he is emerging from, Xagygyrag ignores him, literally stepping over the paladin and into the chamber. Seizing his opportunity Gareth strikes, but though the Blade connects it is like striking a stone wall, leaving only a tiny nick in the dragon’s side.
The dragon ignores the blow completely, pulling in a deep breath. There is the sizzle of acid and then it breathes, but not in the line that most dragons of his ilk do. Instead, he whips his neck violently and releases a giant stream of acid, spraying it all around the chamber. Cries of pain ring out around the chamber as each of the Angels is badly burned by the liquid, even Six’s agility being of no avail against the spray.** Only Nameless, partly protected by blinking away from some of the blast, is comparatively less hurt, but he realizes immediately that this foe is beyond them – especially in their current condition.
The two druids react immediately with the same tactics, first using an assay resistance and then bringing down an empowered flame strike on the dragon. Even with the first spell aiding her efforts, Luna’s column of flame simply winks out against the dragon’s magical resistance, but Korm’s successfully scorches his hide, drawing an angry growl.
Nameless quickly calls forth a pair of huge earth elementals to aid the Angels, and they hammer into the dragon. To the alienist’s horror, their attacks have absolutely no effect, simply bouncing off its hide. “We’re in trouble!” he shouts. “I don’t think we can beat this thing!”
“You think?!” shouts back Six, wondering what to do next, not wanting to close to melee with the creature but knowing he can do little to it from a distance.
As he hesitates, Gareth takes a desperate gamble. Already quite certain that the dragon does not understand the common tongue of Khorvaire, he decides to risk everything on the presence of the dragonmarks, which he knows at least some of the dragons are very interested in. The paladin unsummons the Endless Blade and waves both hands above his head, to show that they are empty, and then rips off his helmet, tilting his head to one side to more clearly show the Mark of Siberys which extends up the side of his neck. “Don’t attack!” he yells to his companions, “Maybe I can get him to stop!”
Xagygyrag’s head snaps down towards the defenseless target and then stops suddenly, mere feet from Gareth’s head. The dragon cocks his head, ignoring the still attacking elementals and the other Angels as if they were inconsequential, and then its thin lips part in a smile which bares every fang. A trickle of acidic drool drips off the lower jaw, barely missing Gareth, and its forked tongue emerges to lick its lips. “Excellent!” he says finally, “You will make a fine sacrifice!” And then he speaks a few arcane syllables and disappears.
The Angels look around, uncertain that he is gone, and then Korm says, “That’s got to be the most amazing negotiation I ever saw!”***
Gareth, looking slightly dazed at his own success, looks around. “What did he say?”
“Oh, he thinks you will make a fine sacrifice.”
“Can I just say,” growls Luna, “We should get the f*ck out of here? Now!”
“Good idea,” says Six. “Nameless, can you teleport us out?”
“I’m not sure. We were told that teleportation around this area was very unreliable. Then again, the dragon just dimension doored away. So maybe it’s safe. But should we risk it?”
Six replies thoughtfully, “Let me try something. But can you put up a telepathic bond first?” Once Nameless does, the warforged concentrates and the shadows which had sprung up from the harness to surround him during the battle roil and expand, surrounding him completely. And then they disappear, along with him. But he doesn’t reappear.
After a couple of seconds, the others transmit over the link, “Umm, Six – you okay?”
“I’m fine,” comes the reply, “But I’m in another room like this one, with lots of slabs. Can you locate me?”
“We’ll try. Perhaps using a teleportation spell of my own will transfer us there? Let us try it.”
The remaining four adventurers ready themselves and then Nameless casts a dimension door of his own. Luna and he both appear where he was attempting to, on the other side of the same chamber, without any ill effects. Korm disappears, but then is shunted violently out of the floor, having apparently reappeared some ten feet below them, his skin mildly ripped in the process. Gareth does not reappear.
Instead, he appears right next to Six. As the warforged just described, this room is much like the other, with many stone slabs covered in draconic writings along the walls. There is also a similar depression in the floor, but this one is empty.
After a little discussion via the link, the Angels decide that they need to physically attempt to meet up with each other, Nameless using a locate creature spell to discover that the others are at least within a thousand feet. Both groups slowly move through the tunnels, fearing that Xagygyrag will make a reappearance.
Luckily, he does not, and a few minutes later, they are reunited. They hastily head for the exit and, substantially aided by the light stones, eventually return to the first chamber. Luna breathes a sigh of relief. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Let’s be careful,” reminds Six. “Those wyverns might be at the top.”
“Wyverns?” snorts Luna. “Wyverns I can handle. Giant dragons I could do without. Let’s go see those wyverns!”
* * *
Shortly afterwards, having reduced three huge, malformed, fire-breathing – and, most of all, really unfortunate – wyverns to scorched, electrified, and savagely hacked corpses, the Angels are in a rope trick a couple of miles from the entrance to Khesavuthir, discussing what to do the next day.
The discussion splits the adventurers clearly into two groups. Gareth and Nameless wish to prepare themselves and head back into Khesavuthir, ready to encounter and defeat Xagygyrag. Luna and Six are just as adamant that this is a bad idea and they should leave. Korm is open to both options, perhaps leaning towards the first pair’s opinion.
“Yes,” says Six, “We’ve got some good plans, but this is my preference – Go back to Io’lokar and talk to everybody. See if anyone wants to travel with us to Khorvaire. Return and meet the heads of state, telling them everything that we are not sworn to secrecy over. See if they want to send anyone to Io’lokar. Go back to the city and wait until called by the Chamber or the Khorvaire Council. By that I mean the newly formed Khorvaire Council, if they know what’s good for them. From all of this, somebody is going to say something that will make our path clear.”
Gareth shakes his head firmly. “That would be a waste of time. We are here and we know that Vvaraak was here. And we may never be able to find this place again if we leave. We need to do this now!”
Luna responds vehemently, “We do NOT need to do this – at all! Did you see the size of that bloody thing and the kind of damage it did with one breath? I don’t think we can beat it.”
Korm chuckles. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you worried about a fight. Where’s the supremely confident, bloodthirsty Luna we know and love?”
“Listen, you!” Luna growls, “I just don’t like to waste time talking when it’s clear we’re going into a fight anyway. But I don’t go looking for fights we absolutely don’t need to get involved in. Like this one!”
“I disagree,” says Nameless. “And I agree with Gareth, rare as that may be. We may not have as good an opportunity as this one. And while victory is never certain, a good plan should significantly improve our chances. Now here’s what I think we should prepare…”
Luna throws up her hands in disgust. “Fine, fine – we’ll do it! And when you idiots are dead and dragon chow, I’ll be saying ‘I told you so!’”
Unfortunately, Luna really is turning out to be a very good fortune-teller.
* Read that name backwards. No, I have no shame.
** 88 pts of damage to all PCs (except Nameless, who took less) instantly. Maximized Breath Weapon rocks!
*** Gareth had a swashbuckling card which allows a Diplomacy check in combat as a standard action without the -10 penalty. He rolled godawfully well on Diplomacy and Xagygyrag has substantial interest in dragonmarks, so I figured he earned the party a break. Without that card, with the circumstances the PCs met the dragon under and the fact that they’d gone in there after using much of their resources, it would have been a TPK.
Luckily, as the Angels flash through the wall, there are no adverse effects. They have few spells in effect and none are dispelled, and, more importantly, neither are their mounts. “We just went through a wall of dispel magic,” Nameless quickly explains to the others.
There’s no time for discussion, however, as the shaft ends five hundred feet below the surface in a giant circular chamber. Dozens of gigantic tunnels, each at least twenty feet across and completely smooth, lead away from it at different angles, twisting and turning as they plunge deep into the earth. The chamber is completely empty except for the perfectly preserved head of a huge black dragon, which sticks out of a wall. Nameless detects multiple auras on it, the results of which manifest as soon as the Angels enter. The lips seem to move and a strongly resonant, clearly draconic voice says, “Who disturbs the sanctity of Khesavuthir and the rest of Xagygyrag*? Flee! Flee now – or die!”
Even before the magic mouth finishes speaking, Nameless swoops towards the nearest tunnel. “In here!” The Angels fly in and around the first turn, before leaping from their mounts, weapons and spells at the ready for the wyverns to follow.
Unable to see around the corner, they hear the flap of wings and the whooshing sound of giant bodies descending, followed by the clatter of huge claws on stone. Then there is only heavy breathing and muffled growls for a couple of seconds, before a thick voice speaks in draconic. “Shall we go after them?”
“No,” replies a similar voice. “We should have caught them before they entered. Xagygyrag will punish us if he finds us, for our failure and for trespassing. Leave them to him. He will slay them all.”
A third voice adds in, “I agree.”
There is silence for a second and then the sound of heavy, leathery wings flapping.
The Angels wait for a couple of seconds and then Luna cautiously pokes her head around the corner. “They are gone. Who’s Zagy… Xagygy… whoever?”
“Probably the owner or guardian of this place,” says Korm. “And apparently the wyverns are scared of him, and think he can kill us all. Sounds like a fun guy.”
“I wonder if this belongs to him,” says Six, from further down the tunnel. The others turn to see what the warforged is holding up. At first it seems to be a flat, dull black plate of some kind, about the size of a heavy shield. And then they realize that it is a single scale, presumably from a dragon.
There is silence for a moment, and then the Endless Blade says simply, “Motherf*cker!”
Luna says, “What he said. Why are we here again?”
Nameless sighs. “We already covered that. Let’s not start all over again.”
“Agreed, but what about that,” says Korm, pointing at the scale. “If that came off a dragon that’s currently here, it’s big. Really big. And not likely to be friendly.”
“I don’t think we should assume that,” says Gareth. “Maybe we can explain to it why we’re here. After all, it shouldn’t want Xoriat to be here either.”
“Remember, that dragon Bruntu-whatever didn’t care much about Xoriat,” reminds Six. “But if you’re sure you want to go on today, let’s do so. Are you sure?”
After a quick discussion by the others, consisting mostly of Nameless and Gareth wanting to go on, Luna wanting to get some rest and regain spells, and Korm being fairly neutral, the Angels decide to go on. Six takes point, blending into the shadowy walls of the tunnel.
The tunnel coils and curves deeper into the stone, angling slowly downwards into the earth. As the Angels move along it, they encounter more tunnels, nearly all of equivalent size, heading in myriad different directions. Anyone else would be lost here, but Six, Luna and Korm’s unusually keen senses make them fairly certain that they can find their way back. Just to be on the safe side, however, they begin to mark the walls as they pass with chalk, and then with the light stones taken from the Seed in the Mournland, leaving a glowing trail behind them.
The tunnel opens up at intervals into huge chambers. The first two are empty, but not the third. The first thing the Angels notice is the golden gleam at its center, the source of which is a neatly spherical space, a few inches below the level of the floor, apparently full of gold coins. The walls of the room have large ledges which run all around it, each bearing dozens of gigantic stone slabs, each at least a dozen feet tall and perhaps half as wide. Large draconic writing covers the surface of each.
The adventurers enter the chamber cautiously and begin to examine it, focusing on their individual interests. Gareth and Luna make a bee-line for the gold, and discover that it fills a shallow bowl-like indentation which stretches across the floor of the chamber. The paladin asks for the portable hole and quickly begins scooping the gold into it.
Nameless, studying the slabs, comments dryly, “You realize that stealing its treasure will make negotiation with this place’s owners a little difficult, don’t you?”
Gareth pauses, ankle deep in gold coins, and says, “Well – we came here to recover what we can find, didn’t we?”
“Mainly lore about the seals, if I remember correctly,” chuckles Korm, “But don’t let that stop you. Oh, you missed a couple thousand there, you greedy so-and-so.”
Gareth just scowls, but goes back to shoveling coins into the hole with Luna’s help. When he catches the druid’s eye, she says, “You idiots made me come here though I think it’s stupid. If we get out, at least we’re going to take some money with us.”
Behind them, Six turns away from one of the slabs and says, “I can’t read them, Nameless. Are they draconic?”
“Yes,” replies the alienist. “And references to the Prophecy, I’m quite certain. This one reads like a list of marks that have been seen in various places. Including, as far as I can make out, Khorvaire. So either someone has traveled here from Khorvaire or is able to study it from this location.”
“Scrying?”
“Maybe. I wish we could make a list of all of these notes, but it’ll take too long,” he gestures around the chamber at the thirty plus stone slabs.
From across the chamber, Korm says, “Looks like it’s not all about the Prophecy. This one’s all about names and … um, sacrifices. Looks like a list of people or creatures that made some sacrifice to gain knowledge, since they all say, ‘I, whatever the name is, sacrifice here something in exchange for knowledge of the something’. And ….” He pauses and then says, “Well, looks like someone was right. Vvaraak was here.”
Gareth, having cleared the depression of coins, steps over and stares at the slab. Unable to read the language any more than Six can, the paladin says, “What does it say about Vvaraak? And, by the way, there must have been over ten thousand coins in that pile.”
“Good. And it says ‘I, Vvaraakinsiyark, sacrifice here a … I’m not sure how to phrase it, but it’s a draconic term equating to ‘holy avenger’ … in exchange for knowledge of the blood.”
“Knowledge of the blood?” asks Nameless.
“Holy avenger?” asks Gareth, his eyes lighting up. An instant later, a voice growls from his right hand, where he has re-summoned the Endless Blade as a convenient dagger after having collected the coins, “If you even think about trading up for another sword, I will stab you in the face!”
Korm chuckles. “Sword’s got a point. And anyway, apparently she sacrificed it. If this is Vvaraak, which – though I’ve never heard this full form – it is, or was. There are no dates, unfortunately, so that I can be sure. But if Vvaraak was here and obtained this knowledge of the blood, whatever it…”
As now seems to always be the case in times of trouble, Six interrupts. While listening to Korm, the warforged has been looking at other parts of the chamber, including the one tunnel leading away from it, on the opposite side to the one they entered through. This one leads in a straight line beyond the reach of his darkvision and the Angel’s lights. And now, as he looks down it, something stirs in the shadows that he cannot see into. There is no sound and barely any hint of movement, but Six is suddenly very, very certain that he is being watched.
“Guys!”
As the others turn to look towards and past him, Nameless’ arcane sight reveals two faint magical auras in the darkness. Their source is revealed a moment later, as an incredibly deep and clearly draconic voice rumbles, “Who are you that dare trespass in Khesavuthir, the domain of Xagygyrag?”
The voice is followed immediately by the speaker’s appearance, as a serpentine neck over a dozen feet long extends out of the darkness. Atop it is the skull-like head of a gargantuan black dragon, with its segmented horns and protruding teeth.
“Go on, Gareth!” hisses Nameless, and the paladin quickly steps forward. He bows and says, “Great dragon, we mean you no harm. We have come here in search of lore to stop the invasion of Khorvaire by the hordes of Xoriat. If we may explain…”
The dragon Xagygyrag shows no signs of comprehension as it gazes first at Gareth and then past him at the others. Then the deep-socketed eyes narrow slightly. “Fools and thieves!” he rumbles, “Now you shall die.” It surges forward.
Though he doesn’t understand the language, the intent is clear, and Six responds instantly, using his embedded wand to haste the others. Less than a second behind him, Nameless casts a swift shield and then another protective spell to blink in and out of existence. Gareth casts a spell that will allow him to do more damage to larger enemies, even as the Endless Blade – swearing vituperatively – lengthens into a falchion.
Though Gareth stands almost within the tunnel which he is emerging from, Xagygyrag ignores him, literally stepping over the paladin and into the chamber. Seizing his opportunity Gareth strikes, but though the Blade connects it is like striking a stone wall, leaving only a tiny nick in the dragon’s side.
The dragon ignores the blow completely, pulling in a deep breath. There is the sizzle of acid and then it breathes, but not in the line that most dragons of his ilk do. Instead, he whips his neck violently and releases a giant stream of acid, spraying it all around the chamber. Cries of pain ring out around the chamber as each of the Angels is badly burned by the liquid, even Six’s agility being of no avail against the spray.** Only Nameless, partly protected by blinking away from some of the blast, is comparatively less hurt, but he realizes immediately that this foe is beyond them – especially in their current condition.
The two druids react immediately with the same tactics, first using an assay resistance and then bringing down an empowered flame strike on the dragon. Even with the first spell aiding her efforts, Luna’s column of flame simply winks out against the dragon’s magical resistance, but Korm’s successfully scorches his hide, drawing an angry growl.
Nameless quickly calls forth a pair of huge earth elementals to aid the Angels, and they hammer into the dragon. To the alienist’s horror, their attacks have absolutely no effect, simply bouncing off its hide. “We’re in trouble!” he shouts. “I don’t think we can beat this thing!”
“You think?!” shouts back Six, wondering what to do next, not wanting to close to melee with the creature but knowing he can do little to it from a distance.
As he hesitates, Gareth takes a desperate gamble. Already quite certain that the dragon does not understand the common tongue of Khorvaire, he decides to risk everything on the presence of the dragonmarks, which he knows at least some of the dragons are very interested in. The paladin unsummons the Endless Blade and waves both hands above his head, to show that they are empty, and then rips off his helmet, tilting his head to one side to more clearly show the Mark of Siberys which extends up the side of his neck. “Don’t attack!” he yells to his companions, “Maybe I can get him to stop!”
Xagygyrag’s head snaps down towards the defenseless target and then stops suddenly, mere feet from Gareth’s head. The dragon cocks his head, ignoring the still attacking elementals and the other Angels as if they were inconsequential, and then its thin lips part in a smile which bares every fang. A trickle of acidic drool drips off the lower jaw, barely missing Gareth, and its forked tongue emerges to lick its lips. “Excellent!” he says finally, “You will make a fine sacrifice!” And then he speaks a few arcane syllables and disappears.
The Angels look around, uncertain that he is gone, and then Korm says, “That’s got to be the most amazing negotiation I ever saw!”***
Gareth, looking slightly dazed at his own success, looks around. “What did he say?”
“Oh, he thinks you will make a fine sacrifice.”
“Can I just say,” growls Luna, “We should get the f*ck out of here? Now!”
“Good idea,” says Six. “Nameless, can you teleport us out?”
“I’m not sure. We were told that teleportation around this area was very unreliable. Then again, the dragon just dimension doored away. So maybe it’s safe. But should we risk it?”
Six replies thoughtfully, “Let me try something. But can you put up a telepathic bond first?” Once Nameless does, the warforged concentrates and the shadows which had sprung up from the harness to surround him during the battle roil and expand, surrounding him completely. And then they disappear, along with him. But he doesn’t reappear.
After a couple of seconds, the others transmit over the link, “Umm, Six – you okay?”
“I’m fine,” comes the reply, “But I’m in another room like this one, with lots of slabs. Can you locate me?”
“We’ll try. Perhaps using a teleportation spell of my own will transfer us there? Let us try it.”
The remaining four adventurers ready themselves and then Nameless casts a dimension door of his own. Luna and he both appear where he was attempting to, on the other side of the same chamber, without any ill effects. Korm disappears, but then is shunted violently out of the floor, having apparently reappeared some ten feet below them, his skin mildly ripped in the process. Gareth does not reappear.
Instead, he appears right next to Six. As the warforged just described, this room is much like the other, with many stone slabs covered in draconic writings along the walls. There is also a similar depression in the floor, but this one is empty.
After a little discussion via the link, the Angels decide that they need to physically attempt to meet up with each other, Nameless using a locate creature spell to discover that the others are at least within a thousand feet. Both groups slowly move through the tunnels, fearing that Xagygyrag will make a reappearance.
Luckily, he does not, and a few minutes later, they are reunited. They hastily head for the exit and, substantially aided by the light stones, eventually return to the first chamber. Luna breathes a sigh of relief. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Let’s be careful,” reminds Six. “Those wyverns might be at the top.”
“Wyverns?” snorts Luna. “Wyverns I can handle. Giant dragons I could do without. Let’s go see those wyverns!”
* * *
Shortly afterwards, having reduced three huge, malformed, fire-breathing – and, most of all, really unfortunate – wyverns to scorched, electrified, and savagely hacked corpses, the Angels are in a rope trick a couple of miles from the entrance to Khesavuthir, discussing what to do the next day.
The discussion splits the adventurers clearly into two groups. Gareth and Nameless wish to prepare themselves and head back into Khesavuthir, ready to encounter and defeat Xagygyrag. Luna and Six are just as adamant that this is a bad idea and they should leave. Korm is open to both options, perhaps leaning towards the first pair’s opinion.
“Yes,” says Six, “We’ve got some good plans, but this is my preference – Go back to Io’lokar and talk to everybody. See if anyone wants to travel with us to Khorvaire. Return and meet the heads of state, telling them everything that we are not sworn to secrecy over. See if they want to send anyone to Io’lokar. Go back to the city and wait until called by the Chamber or the Khorvaire Council. By that I mean the newly formed Khorvaire Council, if they know what’s good for them. From all of this, somebody is going to say something that will make our path clear.”
Gareth shakes his head firmly. “That would be a waste of time. We are here and we know that Vvaraak was here. And we may never be able to find this place again if we leave. We need to do this now!”
Luna responds vehemently, “We do NOT need to do this – at all! Did you see the size of that bloody thing and the kind of damage it did with one breath? I don’t think we can beat it.”
Korm chuckles. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you worried about a fight. Where’s the supremely confident, bloodthirsty Luna we know and love?”
“Listen, you!” Luna growls, “I just don’t like to waste time talking when it’s clear we’re going into a fight anyway. But I don’t go looking for fights we absolutely don’t need to get involved in. Like this one!”
“I disagree,” says Nameless. “And I agree with Gareth, rare as that may be. We may not have as good an opportunity as this one. And while victory is never certain, a good plan should significantly improve our chances. Now here’s what I think we should prepare…”
Luna throws up her hands in disgust. “Fine, fine – we’ll do it! And when you idiots are dead and dragon chow, I’ll be saying ‘I told you so!’”
Unfortunately, Luna really is turning out to be a very good fortune-teller.
* Read that name backwards. No, I have no shame.
** 88 pts of damage to all PCs (except Nameless, who took less) instantly. Maximized Breath Weapon rocks!
*** Gareth had a swashbuckling card which allows a Diplomacy check in combat as a standard action without the -10 penalty. He rolled godawfully well on Diplomacy and Xagygyrag has substantial interest in dragonmarks, so I figured he earned the party a break. Without that card, with the circumstances the PCs met the dragon under and the fact that they’d gone in there after using much of their resources, it would have been a TPK.
