Good morning (bleah, Monday)!
Krellic: 3e quaggoths are found in
Monsters of Faerun; while I originally balked at this purchase (20 bucks for a thin softcover!?!), I'd say about a dozen of its denizens have popped up in this story (worth it for the ghour demon alone
), and I've even started porting some of them to my Neverwinter Nights game (where kir-lanan, nyth, banedead, and baneguards have all made an appearance).
Old One: yes, I do try a lot of perspective shifts to deepen the novelesque feel of my story. Even in Book 1 I did a number of short scenes with the backstory of the evil plot in Elturel, while keeping the identity of the plotters secret. I like my villains to be deeper, complex individuals (usually flawed in some serious way--that makes 'em villains
) rather than cardboard cut-outs with stat blocks. That's one of the things I like about your game, with its recurring complex antagonists (p.s. sorry I haven't been by in a while... NWN is consuming all my free time and I've been neglecting my favorite story hours as a result).
Horacio: Maldur did a great job of bumping the thread in your absence, but I'm glad you're back to take up your rightful position as Head Bumper. Here's your update!
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Book V, Part 19
The companions rushed around the corner, following the lead of Taktak and his quaggoth warriors.
The open space after the bend wasn’t that large, a low-ceilinged cavern perhaps thirty feet across. A pair of tunnel exits besides the one they had entered through were visible on the far side of the room, at least to those who were possessed of darkvision.
The quaggoths stood in a knot around a cluster of trunk-sized stones along the wall to their left as they entered. Their positioning blocked whatever it was that had set off Taktak, but as the companions approached they could hear a crotchety voice spit out a phrase in heavily accented common, “Get off me, you furry menaces! I say, be off!”
The companions drew up in surprise, as the ring of quaggoths parted just enough for them to make out the speaker. An old dwarf sat on one of the stones, his long white beard falling in tumultuous cascades across the front of his body down to his lean, bony knees. His skin was a dusky gray, marking him likely either a duergar or undunnir, although there was something about him that defied easy categorization. His face was a landscape of wrinkles, and he was clad only in a threadbare shift that could not conceal the hard edges of his lean frame.
One of the quaggoth growled as the old man poked him with his stick, an item that was more a gesture than a real weapon. But the old fellow was clearly harmless, and the deep bears did not attack.
“What are you doing here, old one?” Cal asked as the quaggoths drew back enough for them to approach. “Did you escape from the duergar?”
“Duergar? What? No, I didn’t ‘scape from no one, least not so far as I can remember.” He made a show of dusting himself off, although the gesture did little to improve his appearance. “Them bear-folks yours? Thanks for calling them off, anyways.”
“He asked what you were doing here,” Benzan said, his eyes narrowed. “We’re right on the fringes of a duergar stronghold, in case you didn’t know, and this place is dangerous. You’d be better off giving us some answers.”
The old dwarf’s beady eyes fixed on Benzan, and there was a potency there that none of them missed. “Don’t be ordering me around, boy,” he said. “Your blood don’t be givin’ you the right to tell me what’s what, now.”
“Perhaps my companion’s manners are a bit lacking, old one, but the questions are valid. Who are you?”
“Name’s Athumba, not that it’s any business of yours.” The old dwarf drew himself up slightly, as if that gesture could restore some of his injured dignity. It was clear, though, that only grit was keeping his tired form upright at all.
“Honored elder, are you one of the urdunnir?” Lok asked, his demeanor strangely hesitant.
The old dwarf turned to him, and looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Ah,” he said, and the single syllable seemed somehow rich with meaning. “One of the planetouched, and marked as well. It becomes a little clearer, perhaps.”
Taktak growled something, and it didn’t require Lok’s translation to tell that he was clearly impatient.
“Yes, yes, we’re getting to that, furball!” the dwarf shot back, and the grim quaggoth subsided. “They’re very impatient, you know,” Athumba said apologetically. “Now, where were we?”
“We were trying to get you to explain what an elderly dwarf is doing in these tunnels alone, on the doorstep of a duergar outpost,” Benzan said, his voice mirroring Taktak’s irritation.
The old dwarf coughed loudly, the sound amplified by the acoustics of the cavern, and for a moment they all looked around in alarm, as if the noise would draw down a horde of attackers upon them. Dana came forward, concern written clear on her face, but the old dwarf managed to control the bout and forestalled her with a hand.
“No, child, there’s nothing you can do for me, not at the moment, at least. I apologize that I cannot give you the answers that you seek. I am weary, very weary, and must rest.”
Lok looked at his friends, his eyes betraying his concern, and Cal nodded. “We cannot bring you with us, old one,” the gnome said. “Our path takes us into greater danger. We will come back for you, if we can.”
“I know,” Athumba said, and clasped the gnome’s hand warmly with his withered grip. “I know you will do what must be done.” And then, as if that final statement had drained the last of his energy, he slumped back against the stone, his eyes closing even as his head touched the cold stone.
“Is he…?” Benzan asked.
“No, he’s just sleeping,” Dana said. Tenderly, she took a rolled-up blanket from her pack and tucked it under his head, careful not to disturb his rest. Then they moved back slowly, near where the quaggoth stood in a cluster, watching the scene as it transpired. Taktak motioned for two of his warriors to check the exit passages for traces, and the pair of quaggoth leapt into action.
“He never did answer our question,” Benzan said.
“Well, it’s clear he’s not a duergar, anyway, or if he is, he’s been terribly mistreated,” Dana said.
“Though I hate to leave him here alone, there’s nothing we can do for him right now,” Cal said. “I’d suggest to Taktak that he leave one of his warriors here to watch over him, but he’d never go for it.”
“Yeah, the quaggoth despise weakness,” Benzan replied. He glanced back at the sleeping dwarf once more, suspicion clouding his features briefly before they turned to go.
Lok, too, looked back once as they left the chamber and its enigmatic occupant, but whatever feelings resided behind that glance were hidden behind the genasi’s inscrutable features.
With the quaggoths again in the lead, they set out once again toward their destination.
