Yalak and Alas! [by Scott Micheel,
speaking as Xylo il-Jabbar]
After my friends had helped me save the Elisha tribe
from the thoroughly disagreeable Darrans (teaching them
a lesson in the process), we found ourselves on the high seas with limitless
possibilities. Our leisurely debate about which port we should enjoy
ourselves at next was interrupted by a courier, bearing a note in the strange
hand of the
It was a somewhat impolitic request for help from our natives of that area, Sir Koris and Rathbone of Gath. It seemed that one of their countrymen had gotten into a bit of difficulty, and wondered if these two would heed the call of patriotism and help the fellow out.
Of course, I am entirely in favor of helping one’s fellows, and as my comrades had just recently helped me perform much the same mission, I immediately volunteered to help them in their own little quest, and most of the others in our group volunteered as well, even the sorcerer Krypteria agreed to tag along as the voice of reason.
Now, the fellow had gotten himself deep into the strangely insular country of Yalak, which although it shares a border with my own sandy country of Zin, is impossible to enter save by sailing many miles three-quarters of the way around the peninsula. The Yalakians live in a very forested region, as wet as my own land is dry, and it is said that our gods in ancient times desired such a situation, as desert living teaches a man good sense, frugality, and imparts a certain hardiness.
Living in a lush, forested land, where game is plentiful and fruits are available with merely a pluck of the hand, was thought to cause a certain lassitude, a complacency, and a not altogether healthy spread of the abdominal regions.
Having just recently seen how much greed can result over a little source of
water back in my homeland, all I can say is that I was entirely prepared to
test if such olden theories have any merit to them.
The
way to Yalak was first to the south, rounding back up
north to arrive at the forested east coast.
Along the way, our official group title “Relentless Assault” became
something of a burden while stuck aboard a cargo vessel. We fished, played tunes (The rest of the
group seemed singularly unable to master the melodies of my homeland, and
fellow desert-dweller Laban seemed to have the same
trouble with their own outlandish compositions), repaired equipment and
doubtless annoyed the sailors to no end with our incessant energy. It came as a wonderful relief when the ship
came under attack by a huge sea monster.
Now,
such a beast was apparently not unknown to the captain and his crew, and they
were filled with trepidation, for once the ship had attracted its attention,
the monster was unlikely to leave it alone until it had rammed us, broke apart
the hull, and feasted on the tasty bits inside.
As it came closer, it soon became apparent that the creature’s huge size
made our most accurate arrows a mere pinprick, when they managed to pierce its
thick shell at all. Krypteria’s
magical missiles had more penetrating power, though the creature seemed to be
willing to accept such annoyances as the price of payment for its lunch, so we
fell back on our last and most desperate plan.
As
a desert-dweller, I had understandably not spent huge amounts of time on the
water. I had been concerned about the
tales I had heard, of shipwrecks, of terrible storms sweeping sailors overboard
or overturning whole ships, and yes, sea monsters. So I had expressed my concerns to the great
and wonderful god Il-Mundi, and had been granted the
ability to empower a person to walk upon the water itself. Now, due to the distance we traveled from the
coast, it was problematic whether I could actually make it to shore before the
spell ran out, but in this situation it was the perfect solution. Selecting first our strongest and most
headstrong warrior, I empowered Laban to leap
overboard and rush the monster as if it were dry land. This he did, and with such gusto that Rath was convinced to join him upon the perilous sea. (Sir Koris was
reluctant, as he felt there was little honor to be had in battling a fish.)
With
continued pinpricks from Krypteria -- which would
have destroyed many a lesser foe – and the full attention of Rathbone's ... er
...
wrath,
and too the more sober and pointed attention of our ranger, we finally managed
to
make
it
known that attempting to eat us was
certain to cause indigestion. Realizing
this, the monster decided to seek something more palatable, and dove deep
underwater and swam away. Full of high
spirits, there was some discussion among our warriors of trying to pursue it,
but more sober heads quickly prevailed. The
captain had a cargo to pick up, and we would have had a hard time dealing with
such a catch anyway.
More days passed and as we were getting on along the coast, we came across an unfortunate derelict; a ship that appeared to have been attacked by pirates, de-masted, floating dead in the water. In a humanitarian gesture, Sir Koris and I convinced the rest of our comrades to rescue any survivors. In this, we were aided by our stalwart captain, who let slip the fact that an abandoned ship was considered ripe for plunder under the code of the seas. Here was a prize that we might actually be able to take with us. Bajuk, having found the ship’s store of rum, was curiously uninterested in such an endeavor, but the rest of us were eager to be about it.
Krypteria though urged caution, so we devised a clever plan. Through the power of Il-Mundi again, I gifted our Rathbone with the ability to walk upon the waves, which he used to circle around the abandoned galley and sneak up the far side, while our own ship edged slowly closer. We cautiously boarded the wreck, and were so not surprised when a bunch of trollish sea ogres surged up from beneath the fallen sails and from the hatch down to the lower deck.
We were up to the task of giving them their comeuppance, and my fellow countryman Laban joined Sir Koris in bringing the battle directly to them, and Rathbone attacked with fervor. So much so, that when the foes were defeated topside, Sir Koris leaped down the stairway to defeat the remaining rogues below deck. Krypteria and I stayed prudently on our own ship some distance away, and assisted in small ways with invocations of magic. So well did we perform, that I was called upon to invoke the power of my god again so that Sir Koris could join Rathbone in racing across the waves after the last troll who tried to escape our justice. We kept him captive for some time, but later let him escape, hopefully having taught him a lesson that he will remember should thoughts of plunder tarnish his newly chastised mind. For the rest of the journey we were happy men, endlessly repairing the ship under directions of our captain and his crew, learning the fine art of swabbing a deck and mending sails. Personally, I came to feel that, though it was honorable work, I would much rather have land beneath my feet, and thus resolved to leave this profession to the professionals involved.
Upon reaching our designated port … well, beach … Sir Koris was set upon by a passel of nuns, and drawn away into some foreign intrigue. We ceded him our newly captured prize ship, and wished him well. Luckily for us, our good friend Bajuk finally roused himself from his drunken stupor, having found the horse trough he had been thrown into not to his liking.
Now, this being our first chance to see Yalakians up close, I paid attention most keenly. All I knew about the land was the legends of my childhood, and a bit of current economic theory from Rath, who did not have a high opinion of the place. Seems their major export is wood, but they don’t even bother to chop down their own trees. A cushy lifestyle, indeed, and I began to believe that the old tales were based in truth.
And the town of
Il-Mundi teaches us that in such times we must be at our most helpful, hopeful, and have on our friendly faces, but that even so, that hot tempers can be cooled by dousing the flames – we decided that we had got off on the wrong foot, and that we might find the town a nice place to visit again sometime in the future. Perhaps.
Being back on the road soon refreshed our spirits and put us in a good mood, so much so that when we came to a toll bridge, we happily bargained our passage and paid in good faith, as the poor ogre looked somewhat ill, and doubtless needed the coin to pay for spirits so as to forget his troubles.
The road we took was well maintained, and we found out why very easily – someone had created a huge statue, of solid iron, and had it continually plough the roads, erasing ruts and smoothing bumps, by dragging an enormous pallet loaded with boulders behind it. We resolved never to camp near the roads in this land.
Ah, what would we do without our sorcerer? As we journeyed, he was constantly looking out for our welfare, ever spotting potential dangers and steering us clear us much as he could. It must be a great burden on him that we are so headstrong, for despite his shepherding, we still managed to fall into trouble here and there.
We ran across a small forest fire not too far distant from the road, and although fire is not something that usually concerns Krypteria, he urged caution. Swayed the merest fraction by his words, we sent only two of our number up to investigate – myself, as I am reasonably light on my feet, eloquent, and carry a spyglass; and Laban, who in addition has a tolerably good sword arm, in case the perpetrators were not in a mood for conversation. It turned out that the blaze was entirely the fault of the beautiful red-haired lady we found in its center, naked and singing, and causing flames to erupt at her touch. I believe her to be kin to the effrit that once protected my tribe (let his name be not uttered), but even though I could speak her language, I was forced to flee before the heat that radiated from her. But I was satisfied that she was not a malicious creature, and we left before any misunderstanding could arise.
Or, take the matter of the zombies. In broad daylight, we ran across some of the undead, gamboling along the road. Well, obviously, this sort of thing isn’t tolerated in our own lands, and we agreed that we would be doing the Yalakians a favor if we took care of the problem, so we set upon them, and the remainder fled back into the forest. “Have a care,” called the sorcerer as we ran them down, “There might be more of them!” And indeed there were, and they were clever enough to have laid in wait for us. Even so, we should have had no trouble with them, save for two things.
Even for the undead, these creatures were particularly horrid, for they were infested with unholy skin-eating grubs, that had, we found out to our horror, rather a taste for live flesh as well. It was only the power of Il-Mundi that saved our bacon then, but another curious thing had happened: It appeared that the zombies had some form of, for lack of a better term, "anti-magic" -- for in their vicinity the sorcerer had enormous trouble casting spells. Indeed, some actually backfired upon him, and realizing this, he chose the smarter course and disengaged.
Now, ever so curious, the rest of us decided that some evil was afoot, and that it needed a good smiting. It was as if we had the spirit of Sir Koris right there with us – he had taught us well. It was postulated that some necromancer has gotten careless and was, in effect, “spilling” zombies out into the countryside, a necromantic fallout one might say, and that obviously he should be reminded to repair his livestock fences more often.
So we tracked the zombies back a good distance into the wilderness until we ran across a very strange sight. It was a huge open pit, perhaps an abandoned rock quarry, with undead of all sorts littering it’s floor, and a giant gash or rift in the aether above it, looking for all the world like a fantastic vagina, save that every so often it would spit out debris that would land sickeningly down in the pit – and some was still alive and moving as it fell. Whatever survived the fall would immediately be set upon and devoured by the undead there, who were having difficulty in climbing out of the pit, but had been making progress.
Obviously the space-time continuum had to be repaired, and through the grace of our god Il-Mundi I was able to seal the haphazard portal. We heeded Krypteria at this point and rained down destruction upon the zombies from above until they moved no more, then descended ourselves to see what all the shiny bits were. Our sorcerer stayed up on the rim, ever watchful, to call out the alarm. He spotted little until he observed a zombified wyvern exiting a cave in the side of the quarry, where the miners had dug, and even more ominously, noticing that not all the members of our group that had entered the cave pursued it outside into the light.
Luckily for us, its wings were in tatters, and it could not fly away, for we would have had much less luck had we been forced to pursue it across the countryside. As it was, it could not escape us, and our warriors, aided by fire from the mighty Krypteria some three-hundred feet away on the far rim of the quarry, finally did the beast in. I had not been expecting to deal with poison, this far away from the snakes and giant scorpions of my homeland, and I was at pains to repair some of the damage done to my comrades from the enormous poison stinger, which we salvaged and kept as a souvenir.
It seems that the giant glowing vagina had been disrupting spells for quite a distance, causing, for starters, errors in teleportation and dimension travel, and as a happy side-effect, the shiny trinkets that we salvaged were quite valuable, although a bit worrying, as one particular harp I swear I recognized as belonging to our friend Kaga, who was quite taken with a lady of my tribe and had begun a dalliance that he was loathe to interrupt simply to help out some Dabban merchant.
Anyway, we burned the bodies to remove all traces of the rotten grubby
burrowing things, and set off back on our route to the distant town of
Along the way, we ran across a very polite little goblin, who thanked us for dealing with the undead problem in the area, and mentioning that his tribe had quite an influence in the area, and that if we ever needed anything done, he was the one to talk to. We thanked him with a straight face, and as we parted he warned us about a regrettably mischievous giant up the road.
Apparently this road was not one maintained by the statuesque iron contractor, and the giant had set up a game board for himself -- a winding, twisty gauntlet up the side of a mountain that unwitting travelers were forced to run while he tossed boulders and barrels down upon them.
Our plan involved our warriors running and leaping up to his level (there to have a pointed conversation) while Krypteria and I stayed safely back at the base of the path with the horses, and distracted him with spells. Well, we found out the hard way that he had a much greater throwing range than we had expected, but we did provide distractions to allow our stronger comrades to get close enough that he decided to stop throwing rocks.
Afterwards, during the tedious process of setting broken bones, re-inflating collapsed lungs, and healing cracked ribs, I decided to thank our goblin friend for his timely warning and scrawled in big letters "Goblinz Rule!" at the mouth of the giant's cave. Inside, we discovered evidence that a knight had lost the game we recently played, and resolved to take his equipment to the nearest town and see if we could return it to his family.
Now, the town of
Our Dabban contact had apparently been called away on urgent business, but he left a note saying that he would return within a few days and for us to wait for him. Noticing that Laban was growing restless, we decided to take a short mission out of town and agreed to help the town Reeve (a very cute druid named Eira) by chastising a band of ogres that had gotten uppity.
Eria's furry friends provided an escort to their hideout, and were understandably upset when we arrived, pointing out to us the corral that held an entire roundup of other wee beasties, evidently being saved for lunch. We caught the guards at the gate by surprise, and they went down quietly. Rath stopped a moment to free the caged creatures (he seems to have developed issues lately) and we engaged the loafing miscreants inside, not without scathe, but ultimately victoriously. In addition to the expected ogres, they had beasties of their own – huge wargs that were probably smarter than the ogres were themselves. Inside we found an ettin and an ottok, which can best be described as ogres with extra parts grafted on. We learned a valuable lesson when the ottok leaned down and bit our Bajuk – his bite was quite poisonous – and we found out that poison should be sucked out immediately, that seconds make a serious difference in the health of a victim. Rath nearly succumbed to the poison, while Bajuk merely fell ill, but it was a timely lesson that I shall not forget.
It seemed a very large cavern complex, and it may have been that some of the
ogre band was not at home, perhaps they were out making a nuisance of themselves,
but certainly we delivered them a blow that they will not soon forget, nor
recover from. Among the trinkets we
appropriated from the cave were some uncut gems, a few brass drinking mugs, and
a life-sized (hollow) golden statue of a gnome.
Also in the cave was a massive gear, the kind that might be used in a
gigantic mill to grind huge harvests of grain, the sort of thing you look at
in
wonder while issuing a low whistle. What
it was doing here was never properly determined, but in a bard’s tale, would
be linked to the undiscovered secrets of this land, the kind of “foreshadow”
that
makes you smack your head when you realize it’s too late and the hideous evil
had already been loosed on the land. Not
that I would know anything about that, of course.
Flush with victory and a few shiny trinkets, we returned to Summerisle, where the town Elector (Eria's executive minister), a boggie named Sundowner, presented us with a certificate good for two very expensive masterwork bows, redeemable in the not-too distant future, as the bow master himself was somewhat busy and did not have them ready yet.
Sir Koris had returned, having granted title of our ship to a certain religious order, and informing us that our trail was not the hardest that he had ever followed. Lilly sadly threw me over for the admittedly much more dashing paladin, but he was scarce given a chance to rest before we decided to take another mission out-of-town for the Reeve -- Other Inn patrons had started complaining about our all-night jam sessions, and Rath had begun wandering the streets at all hours of the night, making the town guards nervous. Krypteria was happy just to get away from the town and whatever dark secrets it held.
Eria's furry little spies had informed her that huge sections of the forest were being destroyed, in a far away area under her influence. She could not tell us what the problem was, but asked us to investigate and perhaps stop it. Well, it seems to me that the Reeve merely wanted us out of town, for on the way we ran afoul of more of her forest creatures -- strangle vines that had bisected a pair of wandering goblins. Once again I am forced to admit that Krypteria spotted the danger well in advance of the rest of us, and it was only through his fiery aid that we all escaped the area alive. Surely, with creatures like these about, Eria had no need of us.
Or perhaps she did. We found the "blight", as she had called it; a gigantic, stupendous, humungous lizard, towering over us and uprooting whole trees to snack on. We were at a complete loss as to what to do with such a creature, so, after determining that it was not itself evil, we decided to leave the decision to the druid and headed back to town. Along the way though, we ran afoul of a slightly smaller but altogether more unpleasant lizard. Apparently we had interrupted his stalking, and he took it out on us. As we fled pell-mell through the forest, Rath got in a perfectly placed shot that caused the creature to bleed excessively and break off the pursuit. He was insufferable all the way back to town.
The town was in a black mood when we returned, and we eventually determined that a black dragon had been sighted, distantly, and impending destruction was prophesied. Of course, we are never ones to leave people to their certain doom, and we consulted our schedule and determined that we could perhaps squeeze this mission in, and inquired if there would perchance be some form of reward? This, as Rath might say, was a case of bargaining from a position of power. We came away with a promise of land, a huge swath of 1600 square miles of unsettled forest not too far distant from the town, with only a few goblins rooting around it. Immediately I urged the others to accept the task, for I had decided that the old tales had got it wrong, and that life here was not always the easy paradise that would corrupt my tribe, and that they would do well here, if only we could introduce a few dwarves to the area, as everyone knows they are the perfect natural predator for goblins.
Having
accepted the mission, we actually had some trouble deciding on a plan of
action. It seemed we debated for a full
week, but in reality it was only hours before we were once again on the road,
headed in a southerly direction towards a certain swamp where even now, many
critters were dying to provide us with updated intelligence. Along the way I regaled the party with tales
of dragons, which I had picked up while perusing a magazine in the waiting room
of a bath-house in northern Qaddan. Black dragons, it seemed, were fond of
miasmal swamps, polluted deltas, and stagnant bayous. The article was unclear whether drinking and
indeed living in such water was to blame for their digestive problems, but they
are subject to an undoubtedly painful condition known as acid reflux. To relieve their suffering, they tend to spit
out the excess acid produced in their bowels – and it should be understood that
such acid was designed to dissolve full-grown oxen in an appallingly short
amount of time. While we might
conceivably hack out way out of the stomach of, say, a sea serpent, there are
no such tales about dragons.
As
we marched bravely forward – actually, the sorcerer had to be tied to his
saddle – we refined our plan to the point of least possible stupidity. It was agreed that if the dragon ever took to
the air, we had lost the battle. So our
plan centered around our own chief weapons: surprise,
stealth, and a fanatical lack of sleep.
We hoped to take the dragon by surprise and deal with him before he
could escape.
My
own role in the plan involved vast numbers of spells designed to get us in and
keep us fighting. For starters, I
petitioned Il-Mundi to help us against the acidic
bile, and he came through with a potent response – the warriors, Bajuk and Sir Koris, and our
sorcerer Krypteria were all blessed with a temporary
immunity to the stuff. Alas, I was not
powerful enough to channel such protection to the rest of us, but I was able to
empower several of our fighting men with increased strength, our scout Rathbone with an aura of silence, all of us with the
ability to breathe the skanky water around his home
and thus enter slowly and quietly, and even some spells of courage, should the
dragon’s fear aura prove too potent. And
a very few healing spells, less than I was comfortable with, though of course I
did not make my comrades aware of this as it would only serve to worry them
more.
The
day we calculated as the day of confrontation arrived gray and stormy. Surely it was a gift from the gods that the
gale-force winds would keep our foe grounded whilst we had words with one
another. We did become thoroughly soaked
in a very few minutes, but as we had to trudge the last few miles through
waist-deep marshland, it did not inconvenience us more than a little. We had left our horses under the care of a
pair of amazingly smart chipmonks, who promised to
find them shelter, or set them free should we meet a hideous demise.
Finding
ourselves outside the huge earthen mound that we were assured had become a
dragon den, we found ourselves curiously reluctant to enter. The article I read did not mention dragon
sleeping patterns, so we were uncertain when we might catch him unawares. It was theorized that, perhaps, on a cold
stormy day like this one, the dragon would be inside, warm and cozy by a nice
crackling fire, drinking cocoa and schnapps.
It was also theorized that swamp fumes could make one lightheaded, so we
anchored a safety rope and plunged down toward the underwater entranceway.
It
was, of course, dark. Our own Bajuk could see here, as well as Sir Koris,
empowered by his god, and Rathbone too could and did
evoke some magical effect that allowed him to function. The rest of us carried light sources, but
were under strict instructions not to use them.
We found the passageway that entered the domain, and Rath
swam forward to see what was at the other end.
It was somewhat alarming when he floated back and signaled “two” –
surely the dragon couldn’t have a girlfriend here already? But then he made a strange gesture, forming
his mouth into an “O” and repeatedly popping it with his hand flattened into
“paper”, which I took to mean that there were two savages guarding the
entrance. I cast the silence aura upon
a
small medallion I had made and handed it to him while he gestured to others
their instructions.
Imagine
the scene. You are underwater, using
magic to breathe, which is itself wholly unnerving for a desert dweller. In a cave, with no light
save for the faint reflections from the passageway behind you. It is eerily calm, despite the gale blowing
outside, but you can hear small clinks and thumps, and the occasional gurgle of
your friends as they float along beside you.
And then you are plunged into complete and utter magical silence,
knowing that somewhere very near you, there is an unfriendly dragon.
Personally,
I believe I would rather face a horde of screaming desert warriors bent on
retrieving my head.
But
there we were, and Rathbone leaped out to engage the
guards. They were, of course, taken
completely unawares, and were dispatched quickly and without any uproar. It wasn’t until the coast was clear that I
dared to reveal a thin beam of light and exit the pool into the entry cavern,
whereupon I found that our dragon had hired amphibious frog-men. These were far removed from my experience,
and while a whispered debate went on as to the exact classification of the
things, kuo-toa or perhaps sladdi,
Bajuk observed that their rubbery heads pulped nicely
when a club was applied, and forward we went.
The
next cavern held more of the guards, and while Rath
kept the noise of the battle from escaping, the rest of us did what we could to
finish them off quickly – but alas, it was not to be, for the innocuous little
pools on either side of the room proved to be tunnels through which the
frog-men seemed to be able to shoot through at will. Only one escaped, but that was enough to raise
the alarm.
Quickly,
we threw caution to the wind, and raced ahead, reasoning that we might still
make it to the dragon’s inner sanctum before he was warned. In this we were aided by the fact the Rathbone, our fastest runner and the one in the lead, still
carried the silence aura, and though he himself is able to stalk more silently
than a cat, the aura did serve to deaden the tromp of the group behind him.
An
arrow hit him as he raced through the pickling room, a hideous place filled with
limbs and organs floating in pools of brine and vinegar, but he knew that the
secret to such a trap is simply to keep running as fast as you can, and made it
to the other side without any more such pricks, and even better, having cleared
the way for the rest of us.
We
came upon a large room, its far end lost in shadows, but we had enough light
to
see a squad of frog-men with spears, stationed in front of us in a defensive
stance. As Rath
prepared to charge past them (for when all was said and done, they would be
counted only as debris) Krypteria poked his head into
the
room and caused a huge explosion of flame to incinerate the entire squad. This, while quite impressive in its’ own
right, also served to illuminate the dragon in the rear of the cavern, sitting
on his throne, and Krypteria immediately ducked back
into the hallway.
We
were too late, and he was ready for us.
Apparently he was a bit of a sorcerer himself, for he used the exact
spell that Krypteria uses, to form a magical shield
around his body. Then, in a masterful
move, he cast a darkness spell at our side of the cavern. So powerful was it, that none of our light
sources could penetrate it. The sunrods, my everburning torch,
even the flaming squishy coosh could not overcome the
magic. I had already used up all
possible spells that might have countered the effect, and it came to me that I
was lucky I hadn’t purchased a magic scroll to dispel such things, as I
couldn’t see to read it.
We
stumbled forward, in deep dark, over smoldering frog bodies and around pools
of water, and
one-by-one we emerged on the other side and sought to engage the dragon. Rath started to
move forward and was hit with a splash of acid, which was unfortunate, as he
was not one of the people that I had protected.
But he charged anyway. The
paladin and the barbarian followed suit, which gave Krypteria
and I time to find our way to the edge of the darkness and observe the battle.
And
observe it was all we could do, for Rath still held
the
silence
aura, and we could not hear a thing. We
observed Sir Koris climbing the dais, and we observed
him getting bitten, raked by claws and battered with the edge of a wing, all
in
utter silence. Bajuk,
ever a slave to the moment, thought it would be entirely appropriate if he spit
something back at the dragon, and as luck would have it, he had recently
acquired an Elixir of Fire Breathing, which he proceeded to down and then used
to blow a quick gout of flame right at it. Rathbone entered
dance mode, in which he jukes and jives, tumbles and jerks about in an effort
to get close while avoiding being hit.
It was not successful. Laban managed to climb up onto the dais without being hit,
but found the dragon’s armor a tough nut to crack.
The
battle became quite intense. All four of
our warriors were standing toe to toe with the dragon, giving out as much
damage as they were taking, for the dragon seemed to hit all of them with
frequency. Sir Koris
invoked the power of his god and managed to make some keen strikes, while Rathbone downed a potion to make his own strike land true,
and merely scratched it. Meanwhile, Krypteria was standing near the edge of the darkness, ready
to jump in and hide, but making good use of his position by blasting the dragon
with spell after spell. Some of them
actually managed to get through the dragon’s natural resistance and seemed to
scorch him.
After
a particularly nasty wound from the dragon left our paladin bleeding freely, Laban broke off his own attack to heal Sir Koris, and I rushed up to help. The dragon took the opportunity to bug
out. With a stupendous leap, he left the
dais and plunged straight into the pool of water, wounded but alive. Our own warriors matched that description,
and as each received a healing spell from me – or in the case of Sir Koris, a spell to strengthen his sword arm even more – we
rushed out of the cavern, hoping to catch the dragon before he made good his
escape. As an afterthought, I tossed a
trio of thunderstones into the pool as I passed it, which exploded with an amazing
triple boom. I had little hope that the
dragon was close enough to be affected by the charge, but I felt that the sound
would travel, and might deter him from coming back this way.
Well,
we all rushed back through the caverns toward the entranceway, gathered there
and held ourselves ready. Krypteria volunteered to guard our backs, in case the vile
fiend doubled-back. And we waited for a
short while, until with unease we all agreed to go back and check the dragon’s original
location. We had just started down the
corridor when Sir Koris sensed that the evil had
returned – and he called out a warning to our sorcerer, who spotted the dragon
coming out of the darkness at him just as it sprayed him with acid. Luckily enough, the power of Il-Mundi was still upon him, and he was able to return to us,
admittedly dripping acid that ate into the floor, and let our warriors deal
with the problem.
And
of course, they rushed to the attack -- Bajuk with
his mighty club a-swinging, Sir Koris righteous in
his power, and Laban spitting fire and wailing to the
gods to guide his sword arm. Rathbone joined in the fun, while Krypteria
and I attempted to blast him with our spell power. Dragons are highly resistant to such things,
but even so, we managed to wound him, myself being especially lucky and arcing a lightning bolt right into him. So ferocious was our
attack that the dragon was taken aback, and only managed to ravage Rathbone before being forced to retreat. In desperation, he threw another darkness spell at us, which made it very
difficult to find Rathbone’s limp form, a task which I
was about immediately. An initial moment
of confusion ensued, wherein Sir Koris stumbled right
into the barbarian’s wild swing, resulting in an unfortunate connection
involving broken ribs and a bruised spleen.
But
the warriors three, Sir Koris, Bajuk,
and Laban, sorted themselves out, and strode
heedlessly through the night, and emerged on the other side to meet the dragon
in final battle. Mighty were the blows
struck there, which I did not see, but only heard, and it became apparent that we
were ultimately the victors when the darkness suddenly dissipated, as spells
are wont to do when their caster has become deceased. It was almost too late, but in the final
moments of Rathbone’s own life, I was able to bring
him back and heal his wounds.
Some of them, at any rate.
We took accounting of ourselves, and an amazing array of injuries was
cataloged. It was indeed a close thing,
for I had exhausted every one of my spells, and little could be done except to bind
up our wounds for the time being. While
this was being done, Laban and Sir Koris made sure that the dragon was indeed expired, and Bajuk went swimming, purportedly on a search for treasure,
but more likely just looking for more frog-creatures to slay. Treasure was found, and we collected it as
our due, while we stayed the night in the caverns, reluctant to face even the weather,
outside.
Our
trip back to town was uneventful, save for these small occurrences; I was able
to heal us all fully, we were able to discover the workings of certain magical
items that had befallen us, and we discovered that dragon meat was not very palatable.
Upon
our return to Summerisle, we were greeted with
cheering throngs, banners flying high, and a reception in our honor, during
which we were to receive our reward. As
we were upon the stage, basking in adulation, our good friend Elia broke the first law of the town, and called down upon
us a blast of flame from the heavens, which was the signal for the guards to pull
out their weapons and chop up whatever might be left of us. Even the townsfolk pulled out stones that
they had gathered, and began to hurl them at our somewhat charred group.
Krypteria, we should never have doubted you. The entire town was against us. This
was so unexpected, like some movie with Christopher Lee, that I fainted dead
away. Luckily for me (and this manuscript),
the others of our group were not quite so outraged. Rathbone called upon
the powers of heaven to hide us from the gorgeous but evil druidess,
and we were enveloped in a cloaking fog.
Sir Koris, who was somewhat resistant to fire,
leaned down and awakened me, while our good sorcerer (also able to deal with
flame, to a degree) drank a potion to heal himself. Our other warriors leaped off the stage, the
better to defend us, and incidentally take the battle directly to the enemy.
As
it happened, the townsfolk were of little concern to us, their rocks rarely
coming near. But the town guard were all decked out in heavy armor and delayed us. Not so the town elector, Sundowner, who
proved to be no match for us. During
this time, the druid tried to disperse our cloak of mists with a wall of wind, but was only partially
successful. It worked enough to allow
her to see some of us, and that was all she needed for her next spell, which
was an ice storm upon the stage. Well, this too was entirely rude, and we
resolved to do something about it, but first we needed healing again, for this
second attack had slaughtered us up a bit.
Realizing
that the stage was akin to ground zero, I leaped off (the last one to do so)
and healed myself, while Krypteria passed his last
healing potion off to Bajuk, who charged toward the inconsiderate
druidess. Rathbone trailed closely behind him, and Sir Koris was forced to summon his warhorse to help him cut
through the crowd. One look at the mighty
charger with the bloodied knight sitting tall upon it was enough to convince
the throng to part wherever he turned. Our sorcerer, perhaps misjudging the range in the remnants of the
mist, caused a huge fiery explosion to consume most every one of our enemies on
the eastern side of the plaza, but knocked himself unconscious from the
proximity effects, which luckily I avoided.
As
I used another healing spell to rouse the sorcerer, it seemed that we had them
on the run. Certainly, they did not
expect us to turn and attack them.
Secure in their folly, they had not even thought of a backup plan, and
so while Krypteria, Laban
and I dealt with the guards and the townsfolk, Bajuk,
Sir Koris and Rathbone chased
down the red-headed druid, and registered their displeasure. So forceful were their arguments, that said
priestess fled the field and sought sanctuary in the temple. But it was not to be, for Bajuk,
ever a master of breaking things, burst down the door, allowing Rath entry, and sir Koris room to
ride his stalwart steed directly up the stairs and into the temple.
During
the melee, I came upon an unfortunate dwarf, or at least I assumed it such, as
it was enchased head to toe in solid plate armor, and being downwind of him,
issued him a command to go bathe himself. He declined to cooperate, and as he also refused
to put down his axe and beg for forgiveness, I was forced to teach him
the error of his ways. Solid metal means
nothing to the boomerangs I carry with me, treasures from a lost desert empire,
and a quick one! two! and the
dwarf fell, struck down with nary a scratch visible.
Explosions
continued to sound about me, by which I deduced that our heavyset friend was
still active. Rathbone
returned to the plaza to help deal with the last few stubborn guards. When asked about our red-headed foe, he
replied that it was taking a significant amount of killing to keep her down,
which I understood not at all. But his
attitude was confident, and I took it to mean that the situation was well in
hand.
To
shorten what has already become a much over-inflated missive, we succeeded in
destroying
or driving away the very last of the evil townsfolk. The town of
Through
the letters and circumstantial evidence we were able to gather, not all of the
townsfolk had been evil, but those that were had forced out those that might
have helped us, who had fled for their lives. And they did not return. Just as we were wondering what to do with the
perfectly good town we had inherited, came a parade of individuals up the road,
led by our good friend Kaga, who it seems had not
indeed perished in the glowing vagina, leading the tribe of Elisha
still, and looking for directions. It
was no great stretch to say that they had found there way here by divine
providence, and there was much rejoicing among my people for their deliverance.
We
settled in for a month or so, the better to help our people get acquainted with
the area, its treasures and its dangers, and to repair our own equipment and take
stock of ourselves, which included a division of spoils, of which there was an abundance. We
agreed to save, as a mutual group fund, a third of the treasure, should we ever
find ourselves in dire straits, and divided the rest among us equally,
confirming our suspicion that we, while not as rich as we might perhaps become,
were entirely well-off.
Should it ever come upon you to visit the tribe of Elisha, in the town of Summerisle, in the wilds of Yalak, be sure to pay your respects at the temple there, the greatest portion of which is devoted to Il-Mundi, the god of good fortune, and it may be that your future endeavors will meet with as much success.