The LabyrinthWe wandered the frozen wastes, and talked at night, huddled close to a dying flame, as the blizzard crashed around us. Rismal and I became closer in that time. We talked about his childhood, and I discovered that he had witnessed the subjugation of his people, by my kind, as well as the strifeful war, having been one of the first of his kind. Since he only had one good arm, I drove the spear into the earth as a monument to Nitho and gave him a shield so that he could defend himself against my fireballs, and the attacks of our enemies.
We wandered until we reached a town. The natives, were a strange breed of human. While the dalesmen live in the past, and the dherim live in the future, the nords live in the present. They are a hardy people, fond of drinking fighting and fucking. Even though they live in the harshest climate, they somehow manage to eke out a living. I was told by the locals the town was called Kaappikiilto. I couldn’t pronounce the word, which made them laugh uproariously.
Wanting to be done with this godforsaken place, I looked to recruit a guide. I approached one of the local soldiers who was arrayed in the most exotic armor I had ever seen. There were horns of some animal or other on his helm, he was completely clad in furs, and his sword was neither straight like those of the dalesmen, nor curved like those of my own people. “excuse me sir” I asked, “I am looking for a guide to lead me back to Mussocommoror, I have money and will pay for your assistance.”
I heard a chuckle go around the hall, the nord puffed out his chest and looked down on me, “you?! What have you done that I should wander off into unknown lands, throw your money at a merchant, I’ll stay here.” His decision was met with clapping and praise from his comrades, “A round of ale for everyone at the table!” someone yelled “Very well, I will leave this place and look for someone who is brave enough to leave their own house.” I said and we left that city to its own devices.
We headed North to the, as I know, only great norse city Valkoinenkanava. A wonder, not for its towering steeples and subtle architecture, but for the mere fact that it still stands after 250 in the dangerous southern ice wastes. The Locals nords managed to reprogram, or tame, some of local undead and since they are immune to the effects of weather, and can be easily stitched back together after almost any injury, they are used a slave caste maintain the city while all the “True Norsemen” protect it. It turns out, that whoever managed this feat was so afraid of the undead he told them to obey any human, as long as they didn’t order the creature to harm another human. It was definitely a strange sight at first, and I was going to run, from the city, but one of the Norse merchants stopped me and demonstrated their docility on one of the nearby females. “you there, he said, roll around on the ground unless told otherwise.”
“yes lord” she replied and began to roll around on the ground
“Look at the idiot!” he said, giving me a hard slap on the back “They say all their skulls are hollow” laughing he began to walk away before yelling back to her, “Get back to work!”
I stood there and watched as she picked herself up, and returned to the job she had been working on. I walked closer, watching as she paid me no attention, continuing her job as she was instructed. “What are you called?” I asked aloud
“I am called Sisko Nousemoppi, meaning boardedmopped, I was born on the fifth year of history and have yet to suffer final death, lord.” Was her deadpan response
Startled, I straightened and asked, “would you be willing to venture out into the wilds as my companion and bodyguard?”
“yes, Lord”, she said, ceasing her work, and walking to a nearby carving table where she retrieved a knife and put it in her belt.
“stay here.” I sad and went to a nearby vendor and bought myself the proper winter accoutrements as well as a disguise for Sisko. Of those Items was a robe with the image of a Nord getting his ear ripped off by one the evil undead that inhabit the northern parts of the waste. Apparently it is a great Norse legend from the year 99, but it was a very nice robe too, and my tunic was becoming warn after all the walking. I also bought a pair of scale boots to replace my worn dherim shoes. One of the boots had rings of foxbone while the other had bear teeth, creatures I had never even seen. I headed westward still hoping to find a nord with some sense.
As we walked we happened upon another village, and I walked in, hoping to learn more of the alien culture of the nords. But the houses were all abandoned, not a soul in any of the houses. Confused I turned to Sisko, what happened here? “unknown, Lord”
“Hey Alu, does she annoy you, cuz I could make her disappear.”
“She could prove useful yet, besides if we run into another direwolf we can throw it a bag of bones while you finish it off.”
“funny joke, lord.” she said, no emotion in her voice. Me and rismal looked at each other in complete silence and I thought I caught a twinkle of fear in the mangled goblin’s hard eyes.
We never did let Sisko take watch by herself. We also never made fun of her talking again.
After the awkward pause I broke the silence, “what is this place called anyways?”
“Enutrioocido, meaning fedmurder, lord”
“is it safe?”
“My knowledge does not contradict this location’s safety, Lord.”
So we spent the night in fedmurder, me and Rismal in one house and Sisko in another. In the morning she was still there, so we left continuing west to the fort which we could just see on the edge of the horizon. Entering I saw a group of heavily armored Nordic men and women with grim expressions on their faces.
At first they refused Sisko entrance, and some of them raised their weapon at her, but when I explained that she came from Valkoinenkanava, they allowed her entrance, but kept a guard on her at all times. I walked towards the keep, and entered. I was greeted by a Norse woman, in the generic furs of her people. “Who are you and what do you want with this place?” she asked
“I am a traveler who has slain many creatures, I am looking for a nord to guide me back to the dalish cities.”
“I am the lady of this keep, and we are the last of our village. We were attacked by the undead and have moved here, where we must fight for our very survival, every citizen of age was given weapons and armor, and those who were not of age were left to buy us time to get here.” (this is not in legends) “I cannot spare to send a single soldier outside these walls, unless it is to gather food so we can survive the next night.”
I turned to leave,“I understand, may you have the blessings of En Alirsacath.”
“Although I cannot offer you any soldiers, I can offer you a guide, my elder sister is 53 years old, and past her childbearing years. She can guide you to the dalesmen and give them the message of our plight so that they may repay the blight they created by saving ours.” She replied, when I turned she had a smile on her face. Dine with us, tonight you will learn about my people that we may not fade to dust if help doesn’t arrive.”
I met her sister, a strong woman with bright orange hair which was speckled with grey in her old age. She told me of her family and her culture, regaling me with the deeds of the great norse heroes, and of the Goddess Maali Saarto Hehko who reigns supreme in their pantheon and holds sway over all things good. After a hearty meal I paid the nords for their hospitality and we spent the night in the keep.
As we walked, Kivi told me her plan, “If we are to reach the Dalesmen, we must first cross the area claimed by the fallen. If we manage that, we must then convince them to aid a dherim, a nord, a goblin and a ghoul, by sending a group of soldiers back through fallen territory to rescue people they see only when our few merchants survive the journey to trade their pelts for gold. To prove to me that you are worthy of the journey, and to the dalesmen that we are worthy of their aid, we must slay a vile creature of the world and become heroes in the eyes of the dalesmen.”
She was right, I looked up at her, I was scared, but I survived the wilds so far, and if Rismal can slay a direwolf without his legs, he can protect me long enough to light the monster on fire. “What did you have in mind?”
“There is a labyrinth to the Northeast called Otubodna. No one who entered has left alive and it is said a magnotaur dwells in its halls. “
I looked down at my spellstaff, I guess fire won’t be an option then. I looked back up at Kivi, “I took a risk on my own behalf by leaving my home to wander the wilds, and I will take a risk on your behalf by entering Otubodna.”
Rismal nudged Sisko’s ankle, “you hear that girley? We get to have some fun.”
It was evening when we arrived at Otubodna. I paused at the four columns framing a stairway into darkness. We arranged ourselves in marching order, I was to go first as the leader, Sisko second because we could always sew her back together if she was injured, kivi third, and Rismal last because he is the slowest, and weakest, due to his injuries, or so I thought at the time. As soon as we set foot in the heard his voice. “Come to steal my treasure?” “I’ll burn you alive and eat your sizzeling flesh” “A dherim, a nord, a goblin, and a ghoul, I’ve killed one of each before, but never all at the same time.” I was shaking with fear as I led the group deeper into the labyrinth. The twisting hallways had many a dead end, and each step only brought us closer to either an angry magnotaur, or a slow death by thirst, lost in the maze.
The spectral voice was still taunting us, but there was another noise, a resounding chant in the background. At first I thought it was drums, or some other instrument being played in an attempt to disorient us, but it was growing louder, and to my fear I could now make out the words. “Suora Otekaira Kaivos Hyokkays”, the name of the magnotaur, Suora Gripdrills the mine of attack, repeated over and over again. I turned the corner raising my spellstaff to attack whatever was causing the chant. Sisko and kivi were right behind me, knives raised to attack the creature. It was another dead end. We looked around confused as the chant reached its crescendo, and then there was a great booming roar behind us, followed by utter silence.
“Rismal!” I cried, turning the corner to take revenge on the foul beast. To my surprise and delight I saw the body of a dead magnotaur, it’s head bashed in, and Rismal laying on top of it, bloody shield in one hand.
“he looked at me funny.” Was his only response, I ran to the body and grabbed rismal picking him up and holding him aloft, “I could kiss you right now!”
“Let go of me you desert dwelling bastard”, he said slapping me across the face, and causing me to drop him back onto the dead Magnotaur.
“Sorry, I was…. Overwhelmed.” I stammered, regathering my composure, “but how did you?”
“Just cause I don’t want you to kiss me doesn’t mean I don’t want any praise, retard!”
*erhem* “All praise Rismal Ostifuri, slayer of the Direwolf Puwogtar and the Magnotaur Suora Otekaira Kaivos Hyokkays!” I chanted Victoriously, “now I don’t know about you, but I heard mention of treasure when we first walked in, and may Zurko have me if I’m not a dherim.”
We wandered the now silent maze, picking up scattered bits and pieces of armor, the likes of which I had never seen. Finally, on the third level down, we found his treasure room. It was a mass of exotic armor, weaponry and coins mixed among the butchered corpses of their previous wearers. I held my nose, and a wave of nausea assaulted me as breathed in the stench of old blood and rotten meat. Carefully, I picked my way through the room, gathering wondrous items to bestow on my faithful companions, and exotic coins for my coin purse. A pair of dragonscale gauntlets for kivi, along with one of the horned helms of her people. A pair of voidsteel gauntlets, I gave to sisko, and both she and kivi were given chainmail shirts and leggings. I even found a cobalt cap, and some leggings small enough to fit rismal.
We exited the labyrinth, excited to tell the tale of our conquest to the dalesmen to receive their aid. We battled our way through the harsh wilds, fighting wolves and sabertooth cats, just barely escaping the fallen patrols. Sisko and Rismal would hold the front while I threw fireballs and the back and kivi would run around the side, flanking the creatures and gutting them with her knife. Rismal never received more than bruises and scratches, baffling me with his ability to fight despite all his wounds. Sisko was torn open multiple times. She never screamed, just lay there stabbing methodically as the beast shook her around in its grip. After the battle we would stitch up the wound, and she would, resume traveling as if nothing had happened. During this travel she became a sort of patchwork monster, a mass of scars, which never died, and never complained.
It was during one of these skirmishes that I made the discovery that would after the course of my life irrevocably. We battled a group of wild beasts, perhaps wolves, or warsnouts, I don’t remember. I remember after the battle, I felt a pain deep in my right upper leg. I messaged the jagged scar left by my first encounter with the warsnouts, but the pain persisted, and I sat down. Kivi approached me, “Did you get hit? I didn’t see any of them near you.”
I looked up at her from the ground, “No, it’s this old wound.” I replied as the pain slowly subsided, “I thought it had healed but it only just recently started to hurt.”
“Sometimes the cold can do that.”I poked the scar tentatively with the butt of my staff and the pain flared up again. “Can you walk?” she asked.
“I believe so.” I grasped her hand and stood. Every few steps the pain would return, but I could still walk, and I was able to avoid the worst of the combat because of my comrade’s protection.
We spent the night in the woods, and the next day, upon waking, I looked at the scar to see a blackish green color underneath the white scar tissue. I poked it and the pain returned as always. I remember hearing from some of the soldiers that old wounds could get infected if not treated properly, and then there was nothing you could do but slowly rot from the inside. I stared at the greenish black mark on my thigh. So this would kill me. I took a risk, I became an adventurer, I gathered companions and I have won glory and gold for myself, and even still I am cursed by Eslul and Bikda, the twin goddesses of treachery. They have turned my own body against me and made my great journey a horrendous curse.
As I sat there contemplating my own mortality and the futility of it all, I heard the voice of Rismal outside my tent, “Hey alu, quit jerkin off and come out here, dawn is breaking, and we are almost out of fallen territory.” I rolled my robe and tunic back down over my legs and exited my tent.
“I am returning to the Dherim. The nation of Thilidur is just as close as Mussocommoror, if you wish to leave me now, you are free to do so.” There was silence among the group, kivi stepped forward and I stared her down, daring her to defy my commands. Seeing the harshness in my eyes, she stepped back. “Very well, pack up everyone.”
It took only a day and a half to reach Thilidur, and we stopped in one of the outlying hamlets to talk with the local dherim. I went to a local diagnose who confirmed the infection. There was nothing he could do, but remove the leg, which would likely kill me, and could easily get infected as well. I was desperate for an answer to my problem, I asked the locals about any stories they had heard of dherim leaving to wander the wilds and returning with infection. Each story ended in the death of the infected.
I searched our legends desperate for a cure to my infection. It was then that I remembered Nubes Incedovultur, a dherim like myself who had sold his soul to the serpent gods almost one hundred years ago. Perhaps the dark secrets of old could cure me of this curse. I asked the locals what they knew of Nubes, and was told tales of a great tower in the northwest, which houses hordes of the dead brought back by unnatural magic.
I searched the village for someone who could guide me to the tower. I went from house to house, asking the day laborers and craft workers if they were willing to join me in my quest but all were too cowardly. As I continued my search through the village, a woman stepped forward, she had a crossbow strung across her back, and she walked up to me. “I’ve wandered the wilds and hunted the boars that roam this area, who are you and why do you seek my aid?”
“I am Alu Iroozo and I have wandered the wilds as well, slaying many dangerous creatures and ending the dreaded life of both puwogtar and Suora Otekaira Kaivos Hyokkays, I journey to the tower of Nubes Incedovultur to cleanse the world of his tainted existence.”
“My name is Mec Estipan and I will lend my bow and skills as a marksman to this quest.”
We headed northwest, Mec would kill animals with her crossbow and we were usually well fed. It was at this time, that kivi abandoned us. She told me she was going off to hunt and never returned. I like to believe she made it to the dalesmen and was able to gather aid and save her people, but I fear she was killed by an unknown beast. We named a wild Auroch in her memory.
We fought our way through the warsnout infested swamps, and a day after kivi was lost, we reached tower which was called Mortuusstellio. When I first saw it, it was a glowing flash on the edge of the horizon, and as I got closer it became clear the tower was built by a dherim. It was a seven story pillar made of gold, glistening in the sun among the wilted reeds of the swamp. A great door stood on one side we approached it cautiously. Not knowing what to expect, I stood back and motioned Sisko to open the door.
At first it was like she was opening a cabinet which had been too full, and the contents tumbled ontop of her, but instead of pillows and blankets it was the bodies of dead dherim. They were still wearing their funerary garb and deathmasks. They fell on top of her and began stabbing with knives. It was surreal watching the two undead fight, Sisko making no sound as the knives entered her body and the zombies making no sound as she stabbed them back. In fear I raised my wad and launched a fireball at the mass in front of the door. For a moment I glimpsed a Dherim clad entirely in scale, He spread his arms wide and shouted at me. “I am Nubes Incedovultur!!! Who dares to –“his words were cut off by screams of pain as he and the zombies around him were lit ablaze. Soon the screams ended and all that could be heard was the crackling ad popping of flesh being cooked and burnt.
The front entrance was a wall of flame, the zombies collapsed as they were slowly burnt down to bones, twitching and writhing with their knives still grasped in their burnt hands. The clothes were burnt off their bodies and their funerary masks were melted to their faces in eternal sorrow. I knew we couldn’t enter through that entrance, but just as well, I knew the dead were trapped inside. I had to reach Nubes’ secret. So I withdrew my old woodcutter’s axe and began felling trees, and building a great ramp, which would breach the fourth level of the gilded tower.
After my construction was complete I summoned forth the power found in my gems to melt a hole into the side of the tower. Thank Apo for my luck, for the second floor had a great ceiling that reached to the top of topmost floor of the tower and I was able to shoot down, from a height two stories above the zombies crowded into the second floor. I could see a stacked bookcase, and desperate to learn some secret which could extend my life started hurling fireball into the room to clear a path. Mec and Rismal stood next to me, rismal holding up his shield to help me block the backlash of my own explosions as well as the bolts of the zombies armed with crossbows. While I launched my fireballs, Mec launched quarrels of arrows into the mass of zombies killing one with each shot that connected.
After slowly clearing most of the room I was looking into, I started melting the walls further, trying to spiral my way up to the very last floor, which as far as I could tell held a slab which held secrets inscribed by the scaled gods. As I worked my way higher up the tower, my magic began to fade, and the crystals began to lose their power. I returned to my companions at the edge of the ramp, looking down into the mass of burning zombies and scattered tables and bookshelves. Perhaps one of his journals will hold the secrets of his immortality.
Desperate to learn the secrets at any cost, I jumped down into the room as soon as the path was clear of zombies. It was on this day, and the following day, that I was reforged, I learned the nature of the magic I was wielding and became a true hero in the eyes of my people.
But at what cost?
I felt a wave of heat and was engulfed in smoke. I could barely see the creatures as they writhed en masse, perpetually burning in my flames. While I sat there, back to the golden wall of the tower, my head tucked into my robe to avoid the smoke, I felt the pain return to my leg, and I almost collapsed in pain.
No! I told myself, I will not die here, these creatures can’t move and I am free to hurl my spells from a distance. This tower will burn!!! I raised my head, tears running rivers from my reddened eyes through the soot coating my face. I raised my spellstaff and began hurling balls of dragonfire at my enemies. As I killed the last one, in the room, the heat died down, and I examined the room around me.
Although the outside of the tower was made of gold blocks, the inside was crafted of blue stone. The floor was littered with metal masks and knives, as the bodies were quickly devoured by hungry flames as soon the magic keeping them alive was dispelled. The faces on the masks had been deformed by the flame, and I shivered inwardly as the deathmasks, meant to keep their wearer’s image from rotting like their bodies, were twisted into unnatural shapes, reminiscent of demons and titans. As I looked about the room, trying to decide whether or not to take some of the iron knives, so they could be melted down later, I saw a small glowing ball of fire in the corner of the room. It looked like one of my fireballs, but it wasn’t locked in the aerodynamic form of the fireballs I shot. It was amorphous and when I reached out my hand, it moved towards me. When it touched my hand, I flinched, expecting it to be burning hot, but to my disbelief, it wasn’t, and I placed my hand back tentatively. It oozed through the air onto my hand and rested there. I picked it up and put it in my backpack, and cuddled next to my bag of gems.
Reaching into my bag, I grabbed it again, tossing it into the air, and catching it. Like a drop of water its form was affected by the area around it, and when it hit my hand, in its aerodynamic form, I was burned. I dropped it onto the floor and it splashed into a small plume of flame before reforming on the ground. I reached down again and it was completely smooth. Picking it up again, I threw it against the far wall, and it exploded like one of my fireballs, but then reformed and lay where it had been thrown. I hastily grabbed it and put it into my gem pouch, this could definitely be a useful bauble, I thought to myself.
Returning to the task at hand, I looked to the doorway to the adjacent room, to try to see how many more undead I would get to kill. The door was closed, the zombie in the doorway must have closed the door after my first fireball exploded into that room. I approached the door. My companions were at the top of the ramp, speechless, they could not help me, and I was alone. I cautiously raised my hand to the door, my spellstaff raised in front of me, then flung it open and raised my staff to unleash the flames of hell on my enemies, and was greeted with clawing hands and slashing knives. I was punched square in the face, my nose broken, and a crossbow quarrel punctured my right foot, causing me to fall down in pain. As the wall of grasping hands sought to drag me into their burning midst, I rolled backwards, and collapsed in pain, as I faded out of consciousness I saw the door in front of me slowly swing shut.….
I awoke to my companion’s worried cries. I waved my hand as a signal I was still alive, then passed out again. I came to when Mec threw a bucket of water from a nearby pond down onto me. Sputtering, I looked up at her and the others. Rismal was laying behind his shield and Mec was smiling down at me. “You looked like you needed to cool off.” She shouted down at me. I gave her a hard stare, but then broke a smile at the absurdity of it all.
“How many bolts have you got left?” I asked, trying to devise a plan to enter the room.
“I’m out.”
I rummaged through my pack, I still had four gems, and about twenty charges left on my staff. Perhaps I could throw Inferno, (the name I gave to the fire sprite which was born in the tower). Alas, I never was good at throwing, I prefer to aim with my body, not my arm. It was my folly to jump down here, and it would be through my determination, and the blessings of Apo and En Alirsicath. I looked down at the small gash on my leg. The bleeding had stopped, but the pain was too great to stand. I crawled back towards the door, preparing to reopen it and face the burning mass head on. Reaching up I paused, my hand on the door. I recalled the last thing I saw before I passed out. Turning I grabbed a cobalt slicing knife from the stone floor and raised my shield before me.
I flung the floor opened and braced my arm forward, in defense. I screamed in alarm as my shield was grabbed by three burning hands, and I was set alight. As this was happening another hand, wielding a knife slid underneath my shield, carving a massive curving gash into my left hand as simultaneously a fist clobbered the left side of my face. Laying in the doorway on willpower alone, along with some luck from the gods, I slammed the cobalt knife into the door’s hinge jamming it open. I rolled around and began to crawl away from the writhing inferno, and a knife lashed out to gauge a long slash into my right foot. As soon as I left the doorway, I rolled around on the floor to put out the flame before again giving in to the pain of my various injuries. I slowly inched my way to the wall opposite the door. My left hand was useless and I strapped my shield to my right so that I could shoot my staff, then shield myself from the fire which had burned pitted scars onto my abdomen and back.
As far as I could tell, the creatures could neither stand nor see. It was as if they had come together to form a great monster, mimicking the goddess Zurko, the epitome of Chaos. I watched mesmerized by the inhuman magics which possessed the dead dherim. Perhaps it was the bloodloss, Hunger, thirst and drowsiness, or maybe I was somehow inspired by the childhood fables of men and women destroyed by Zurko, but I remembered a proverb from yet another travelling merchant of the primitive empires. “Beso will end all things in the end.” “Who is Beso?” I remember asking, and the merchant merely lifted his hand to the bright blue desert sky. “We live in her shadow”, he preached, “and in the end she will turn and face Camade Inala and the dherim will join her and the other gods in her sky palace.”
I looked to the flaming horde of undead dherim in front of me and whispered “Beso will end all things.” Before unleashing the heat of the desert sun on the abominations of Nubes and his cold blooded gods.
I lost track of myself during that time, the flames bathed my body, and as I continued to launch fireball after fireball at the monsters in front of me, the amalgamous beast slowly began to wither. After clearing nearly half of the room, my spellstaff ran out of charge. I reached into my gem pouch to recharge it, and felt only the cool warmth of inferno cuddled around my last gem. I lifted it out and absorbed its power into my spellstaff, and stared hard at the still burning bodies in front of me.
I didn’t have enough power, as soon as I got out of there I needed to go deep into the mountains in search of more gems. The stairway down, unfortunately, was in the far back, through the mass of blazing fingers and knives. I looked around for something to defend myself. The floor was littered with death masks and knives, and I remembered an agile performer at one of Desli’s festivals show off his skill at throwing knives accurately into a giant cactus.
I stowed my spellstaff and began crawling along the floor, collecting the various knives dropped by the masterless zombies. After collecting all the knives I began chucking them into the horde. Although my accuracy was poor, there were so many I was almost guaranteed to hit. Slowly I began to kill them. As I struck down the burning corpses in the sweltering heat of the tower, I began to obsess over them. Who was this knife wielder in front of me? Why does this one have a pick, or toolset, or axe? Is one of these my ancestor? I had become delirious, with the heat and as I reached in front of me for another knife to throw, my hand came up empty. The horde had dwindled to a burning rot infesting the back wall, but they were still too close to the stairs for me to descend. I looked around desperately for something to throw at them. Crawling around, I collected a few more stray knives from the members of the horde I had already killed. After exhausting those, lay on the ground, contemplating whether to risk it, or fall here, my name carried back by my companions that I may live forever as the hero who slew Nubes Incendovultur.
Being a hero wouldn’t be so bad I thought, I wouldn’t be hungry anymore I could sleep forever, perhaps it is my time to expire. My depressed thoughts drove me to crawl towards one of the deathmasks. I picked it up and began to study it carefully, the face was barely recognizable from the intense heat of my flames. As I began to lay down the mask and reach for another, I saw that underneath had been a quiver full of crossbow bolts. Remembering the wound in my foot I looked around for the crossbow which had caused the injury.
After a quick search I found an iron crossbow, and picked it up, examining the various mechanisms of its craftsmanship. Point and shoot, I thought to myself, doesn’t seem much different from a spellstaff. Remembering how Mec had killed four zombies from her place on the wall above me before running out of bolts, I loaded the trigger and fired into the flailing mass. I saw a set of apendages, collapse and then disintegrate in the heat. Reloading I continued to fire, reinvigorated by the joy of victory. For wounding both my body and my pride, I would erase these monstrosities from the face of Camade Inala. This tower will fade to dust, and I will return with a mountain of gold after this profane act of hubris has been melted down. I cleared the floor, and examined some of the books which had survived the flames. Most were poorly written autobiographies, and a few were instructions on how to ease the day to day toils of the serpentfolk. Frustrated, I abandoned them, and prepared to crawl down the stairs and meet my companions at the front gates, when I saw the great spiral staircase which led up out of the room.
Our legends mentioned a slab, made of slate, which held the secrets to life and death, in darkened alleys, and hushed whispers, people referred to it as Nubestumulus. Although a few of Nubes’ autobiographies refer to the slab, they are all either too disjointed, or quickly change the subject, never revealing the secrets the slab contained. Perhaps the top of the tower held the abyssal slab and its forbidden secrets. I crawled up the staircase, crossbow raised in anticipation. And upon reaching the top crawled down a stone hallway to a final stairway, this one covered by a stone hatch. I paused before the stairway, my ear pressed against the cold stone of the hatch. I could hear footsteps, the clumsy amblings of yet more zombies. I pulled out my spellstaff and stared at the calmly glowing orb at its tip. I didn’t have enough power to take on another room of these creatures. With my injuries, I would be lucky to make it back out the front door. I crawled down dejectedly, swearing to return after my trek to the mountains with freshly powered spellstaff, rested and rearmed cohort, and a righteous vengeance rarely seen in a dherim.
After reaching the cleared room, I opened the hatch which led to the first floor and was buffeted by a cloud of smoke. My eyes red from the smoke, and the hair of my mustache and beard stiff from the flames ad ash, I surveyed what remained of the foyer. Groups of zombies lay here and there, burning in the heat of my initial assault. I raised my crossbow and systematically returned them to their eternal rest. With my last bit of strength, I crawled to the front door. It had been two days since we first arrived at the tower and my companions had kept a constant vigil over the entrance as soon as I was clear of their view from atop the wooden ramp.
I pushed open the door and felt the hands of Mec and Sisko pulling me free of the accursed tower. As I was lifted onto Sisko’s back and given a long swig from Mec’s waterskin, I began to fade from consciousness. As I looked up into the clear sky, I thought I saw a dark cloud, in the shape of a serpent and the wind seemed to hiss around me.
I came to later that night and with the help of my seasoned companions was back in fighting shape in only a small matter of time. Although I had suffered many injuries, none of them had cased permanent damage, and except for the growing infection in my leg, and the cars of my journey, I was in perfect shape.
We headed east through the Innocent Mire (an ironic name given to it by its many goblin inhabitants) towards the Dominant Wall, a great mountain range in the center of the world. We traversed the swamps, barely avoiding goblin patrols with Rismal’s help. As we lay down to make camp, there was a shaking in the trees and bushes and we were soon surrounded by lurkers. Hissing in anger, they raised the sharpened fins on their head, their black skin glistening with the ooze of the swamp. The Amphibious beasts charged us, and wishing to save the energy left in my spellstaff, Mec and I fired our crossbows, which had been resupplied with bolts by the former occupants of Mortuusstellio. My group of seasoned adventurer’s quickly lay waste to the would be predators, and I quickly butchered them, curious about their strange anatomy.
Like certain species of lizard and bird, the lurkers had a gizzard, which was used to break down food, but instead of the smooth, shiny gizzard stones found in most creatures, each lurker had a gold nugget within them. Ecstatic over my luck, especially after my experience in the tower, I hefted the hand sized gold chunks into my backpack so that I could haul them to the mountains and melt them down to make various trinkets and crafts.
After another day of travel, we reached the Dominant Wall and I set to work, gathering the local plants and felling a few trees to set myself up with a steady supply of home-distilled drinks, and fresh produce. After I was confident with my supply of food, I withdrew my cobalt pick and began to carve my way into the face of the mountain.
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Topic: Tales of the Third Age 34.11 Adv Mode RP Thread (Now with Succession Mode!!!) (Read 10403 times)