Weary but for once fully satisfied, Nuveril settles down to rest on her heels overlooking their fallen enemy. "Dead," she grins with satisfaction, "and thousands of leaderless gnolls still to be slaughtered. It is a good day." She glances up at the dim ceiling. "Or night. We have been underground so long I have lost track of where the sun should be."
Grall quickly removes the Carrion Kings head, what will be a swift reminder of who is now their true King! He then rushes into what he guesses is the throne room to look for a particular female Gnoll....
As he moves over there he says to the others, His head may allow us a path out of herrre. Confusion and chaos should quickly ensue.
If needed I may need to take on a rrroll and pretend to be the new king for some of the Gnolls, if needed I may need forrr you to play along...it will be better if we don't have to fight 100 of my brrretheren to get out of herrrre...
"Better for whom?" she retorts, frowning at Grall's suggestions. "Your 'brethren?' Fighting gnolls is what I came here for. Every one that escapes today will be murdering and slaving again tomorrow. And play along as what? Your slaves and captives? I felled the Carrion King; I am slave to no one."
Zeladiel shakes his head.
"I... I'm sorry. I... I'll get to work."
He returns to obtain his wand, muttering arcane words.
detect magic
WE felled the Carrrion King Nuverrril, don't forrrget that! We accomplished what we came forrr. Do you want to fight a thousand Gnolls and die knowing you werrre able to kill a few morrre or get out of herrre and live a long life killing Gnolls for many yearrrs to come? he says sarcastically...
He would not have the majority of his warriors here. No king shares a palace with his common soldiers, but the leutenants... We have a responsibility to eliminate the entire leadership.
Maybe so...we will see who opposes us and as you say eliminate any other thrrreats.
Using the last of the haste, Grall saws through the Carrion King's thick neck with several blows of his falchion, taking up the grisly trophy in his left hand.
Khalid casts several spells of minor healing while Zeladiel begins to concentrate on an array of magical auras.
As before, the cries of gnolls resound around the complex. The loudest, for the moment, the fleeing gnoll women. Beyond the globe of darkness, armory and double doors they ran through, Grall can just see what looks like the gnoll king's bedchamber. A sizeable (and slowly growing by the sound) force is above although whether it has made it to the chamber where you fought the guards and hyenadons is not yet clear. The cries from this level are more scattered.
All to aware that any rest to weary muscles may be fleeting, you debate hastily, Sajan and Nuveril moving to strip the gnoll king's corpse of valuable items without bothering to wait for Zeladiel's confirmation, while Linah begins to do the same with the fallen priest's wands.
From the darkness, a gnollish voice speaks in fluent Kellish.
Perrhaps mighty Grrall will not need to prretend to be a King. You and yourr companions have just crreated a vacancy on the Carrion Thrrone after all.
A gnoll appears immediately in front of the globe of darkness, shoulders to its edge.
Near seven feet tall, but with an asthetic, gaunt build rather than muscular, this one is dressed unusually and neatly in silken trousers and pants, like a human nobleman. A jewelled scabbard is fixed to a non-descript belt, holding a sheathed scimitar with a wrapped hilt. A gaggle of wands rest beside it and every finger bears an expensive looking ring.
I am known as Rokova. I serrve as the King's chancellorr. Orr at least I did. Expressionless, he inclines his head at the headless gnoll.
You arre trruly an imprressive grroup, vanquisherrs of the drread Gharrtok although I might humbly add slightly forrtunate not to also face his most powerrful allies. High Prriest Hadirra will be on his way back from the camp with his remaining priests. Your Aunt. He inclines his head at Grall. And of course, myself.
But I am not your enemy. As I trrust I have just proven.
Shall we parrlay? It is hard to read his smile.
The gnoll opens his mouth as if to reply.
Although she scowls at the well-dressed gnoll's sudden appearance and lays her hand on her hammer, Nuveril does not make any motion to attack -- not as long as Khalid is speaking, anyway.
Grall lifts up the Carrion Kings head showing his gory prize,
What do you want Rrrokova? The otherrr Gnolls mean nothing to us. If we can slay the King so easily do you rrreally think that Hadirrrra or you will fairrr any betterrr?
No...I don't think so, otherrrwise you would attempt to slay us.
My aunt will arrrrive as expected, she is a surrrvivorrr, she will know with whom to side. Yourrr options arrre few Rrrokova, let us hearrr yourrr prrroposal...
Interrupted by Grall, the gnoll listens to him with interest before turning back to Khalid.
You may find our interrests more in alignment than you think.
The gnoll projects his voice, his shout bouncing off the stone walls.
THIS IS ROKOVA. THE CARRION KING IS DEAD. UNTIL A NEW LEADER IS DETERRMINED, I COMMAND HERRE. ALL WILL HOLD THEIRR POSITION UNTIL I COMMAND IT. ANY WHO DISOBEY WILL FACE MY BLADE.
The gnoll cries still at least for a moment.
Rokova turns back to Grall.
As I say, you arre clearrly mighty fighterrs. Injurred and wearry ones from the look but I must be mistaken.
You can cerrtainly fight your way back to the surrface, slay Hadirra and his demons and however many of the hundreds there that choose to fight. Perrhaps they will all rrun away at the sight of that head?
I'll not stand in yourr way orr impede you in the slightest. I hold no affection for the followerrs of the Rrough Beast. And I have no wish to fall beforre the halfling's hammerr or to the wrrestler's grrip.
Best not to count on yourr Aunt's supporrt though. I know herr moods well and herr mate lies overr therre. He nods at the near dismembered gnoll captain. You may find your rreunion a terrse one.
Orr He pauses as if gauging your reactions.
You can hearr what I have to offerr. Which depends like with most things on what you desirre. A means of exit, unknown to the otherrs?
He looks directly at Grall. Orr perrhaps influence, power? With Gharrtok dead, Hadirra will attempt to consolidate both. As will I and all here know me as a warriorr second only to the King.
You wish peace for your norrthern lands? Perrhaps it can be achieved with the rright gnoll on the thrrone?
Orr perrhaps Grrall wishes to be that King?
You keep concentrating while the gnoll speaks, his head turning between Khalid and Grall. Between the group, various items, corpses and environmental effects, it takes a while to sort through the blizzard of auras.
First, a moderate evocation seems to be emnating in a wide radius around the Carrion Throne to your north. You were apparently out of range of this before. Its giving you a tingly, itchy feeling.
The dead gnoll captain evidently had a magical bardiche and breastplate with something magical in its pouch.
The archer lying dead half way around the walk-way had magical studded leather armor.
Each of the priests had a magical greataxe although the aura seems lingering, the effect of a spell rather than the weapons themselves.
Several auras come from where you imagine the corpse of the dead priest in the darkness lies.
But your focus is on the new gnoll and thats where things get odd. From his gear you'd expect several auras but you get nothing at all. Slightly *behind* him, in the darkness, you get several though, faint transmutation, illusion, abjuration. Focusing again on the figure it seems slightly translucent to you. And there you can see the faint illusion...
Something isn't quite right about the scene in front of you. The gnoll is opening its mouth but the voice seems to be coming from a point slightly *behind* the gnoll.
Grall gives an odd look to Khalid before answering,
I am no king...and my brrretheren arrre not yet rrready for me to lead them to the light. If you will lead the otherrr Gnolls back to the hills and not wage warrr on the otherrr rrraces perhaps we can agrreee to get rrrid of this prrriest and his followerrrs?
What do the rrrest of you think?
(1 ki used)
Will
Perception
Meanwhile, Zeladiel mutters quietly, almost to himself.
"Moderate evocation emnating around the Carrion Throne. Dead gnoll captain has a magical bardiche and breastplate with something magical in its pouch. The archer has magical armor. Several auras from the darkness.
Rokova... is an illusion."
Linah wastes no time and rushes forward to Sajan and channels most of her remaining power into healing the giant's wounds.
+ ?
You apply your specialist skills to assessing the gnoll's vocal and visual cues.
From the voice, he seems earnest although clearly an extremely skilled speaker, words and tone chosen carefully and deliberately to elicit the most favorable response. Yet there is something you can't quite put your finger on....
Studying his face, it seems too composed, inexpressive. Looking harder the figure waivers very slightly, an illusion it seems, although the voice is coming from very close to it. A defense mechanism or something else is unclear.
The anomoly is enough for you to study the figure more closely. A slight wavering and you perceive the illusion that it is.
A defense mechanism or something else is unclear although the figure is the same as the gnoll you and Nuveril saw behind the Carrion King initially.
Several of you come to a conclusion about the same time as Zeladiel mutters.
Grall's pronouncement doesn't seem to phase Rokova. He looks between Khalid and Zeladiel, maybe assessing the dynamic between the two.
It comes to us offering a deal while hiding behind its illusion. Filthy creature.
The "gnoll" turns to Sajan.
I am merrely prrudent. It seems an unlucky day to be a gnoll otherr than yourr pack mate. Its hand gestures absently at the blood splattered floor and mounds of enemy dead.
Well slayerrs, I have sought to find common grround upon which to build an accomodation but it seems furrtherr negotiations will be unprroductive.
"I agree with Grall. Our mission is complete. I'm prepared to let these gnolls flee, but if ever they returned they would not be granted a second chance."
There is a pause after Zeladiel and Khalid speak then Rokova replies.
Very well.
The image shimmers and vanishes as the gnoll (apparently) steps out of the globe of darkness to replace it, tucking a wand back into its belt as it does so. This time the figure appears to be paying very particular attention to your respective movements.
We have a difficult situation. Clearrly there can be no trrust between us and you will be, quite rrightly, suspicious of any rrequest I make. So I will simply prrovide you with assistance in the hope that you will utilise it in a way that serrves my interrests.
Hadirra will be here verry shortly, no doubt, with as many gnolls from the surrface camp as he can cajole or bully. He is quite adept at eitherr method. Some will flee at the news theirr King is dead while otherrs, partrticularly of the Carrion tribe itself, will desirre vengeance on his killerrs.
Hadirra will use your prresence to consolidate his power. At my expense, unless I do the same.
If you werre gone beforre he got herre howeverr.. well therre could simply be a headless King, his mysterrious slayerrs vanished like mist...
It is up to you. But if you seek a method of trransporrt from herre you will find something interresting in the base of the Carrion Thrrone. Something that I believe Hadirra is unawarre off.
Well it has been a pleasurre but I have matterrs to be about. My command should give you a few minutes.
He seems to be telling the truth although the earlier feeling remains.
Khalid, those powerful enough to step into the Carrion King's place are a threat. Sajan says pointedly, clearly ready to rush Rokova if the command is given.
Rrrokova, with the Carrrrion Kings death Haddirrra will have a harrrd time keeping the trrribes togetherrr. Lead ourrr people away frrrom this cause and we will have no rrreason to seak you out.
Haddirrra will be next on ourrr list.
to the others,
We have done what we came to do. They will arrrrive in forrrce. If need be we can always come back and fight anotherrr day afterrr we have rrrested...Khalid?
|
Khalid contemplates his options for a few brief moments before saying, "I have little reason to trust you, Rokova, but I will give you an opportunity. Take yourself and as many of your people as you are capable and leave this place immediately, never to threaten Kelmarane or any other settled land again. Be assured if you do return or threaten Kelmarane in anyway again, you and your people will perish. We will deal with Hadirra later."
Turning his attention to the others, "Gather the spoils, no need to leave anything to aid Hadirra's cause."
As soon as Rokova leaves, Khalid moves to the throne to see what resides in the base of the throne.
"All gnolls are a threat," Nuveril corrects Sajan, as she obeys Khalid's instructions. "If we left Grall with his 'brethren' to claim the Carrion King's harem, he would also become a threat in time -- or if he would not, it would not be long before the spell-thrower stabbed him in the back as it did the priest and took his place."
Rokova tenses slightly at the threat in Sajan and then Nuveril's words, staring steadily at the (still very large) monk as Khalid makes his decision.
In response to the inquisitor's words, he simply nods, stepping back into the darkness and apparently moving away without a whisper.
From there he vanishes to your sight without evident casting.
The gnoll's command seems to hold (for the bare moment) and you are undisturbed as you quickly finish looting the bodies, Grall retrieving the priest's body from the darkness, evidently a victim of Rokova's blade as Nuveril surmised. Zeladiel continues to concentrate, walking around the room, and that yields a further find, a scorpion whip hanging on the wall of the armory which he directs Grall to snatch up, the darkness still blocking your direct sight.
Most of the loot is quickly stashed in the enchanted haversack, although you are left with corpses inside the magical breastplate and studded leather armor (not to mention the Carrion King's large half-plate). It would evidently take you some time to strip these.
In the interim, Khalid makes his way around the ledge to the northern balcony over-looking the pit.
The smell is if anything even worse here and the inquisitor's skin seems to itch with every step. The throne itself sits atop what looks like a twenty-foot-wide pillar rising from the pit. A disgusting thing, made of metal and shattered bodies, stitched together with rope and more metal and covered with maggot-writhing carrion.
There is definately something that feels "wrong" with the throne (over and above the made out of carrion part) and indeed the whole area surrounding it. You feel slightly diminished here although the affect is passive. Perhaps something connected to the evocation Zeladiel saw although it is hard to say.
Fighting not to lose what little remains of his breakfast, the inquisitor kneels and examines the base of the throne. Knowing more or less where to look it doesn't take long to find, a metal part that looks like a support but instead appears to be some kind of trigger mechanism that looks to pull clockwise against the rest of the base.
|
|
Uncertain of what will happen, but certainly unwilling to ask one of his companions to trigger the mechanism, the inquisitor calls out, "On your guard. I do not know what this will do, but I am about to find out."
After providing the others with a warning, Khalid casts one more curative spell on himself and then pulls the mechanism.
CLW:
Linah heals Sajan while he quickly takes to the task of armor removal.
Khalid heals himself and pulls the mechanism, the metal rotating nearly 180' around the base before stopping with a click.
For a few heartbeats nothing happens....
And then with a grinding noise and shudder the throne itself begins to slide back along the stone bridge connecting the balcony to the pillar, dislodging several fat maggots onto the stone and exposing a flight of granite spiral stairs that winds down the inside of the pillar into whirling dust and darkness. The inquisitor shines his light in, the stairs continuing until their curve blocks further sight.
Enlarged, Grall and Sajan might lose some skin but the visible section at least looks traversible with some squeezing and effort.
"Deeper," Nuveril growls with dissatisfaction. "Will we ever see the sun again?"
Something to note for future reference, oddly Rokova did not appear to carry any magical gear although he bore several spell auras.What about...
The image shimmers and vanishes as the gnoll (apparently) steps out of the globe of darkness to replace it, tucking a wand back into its belt as it does so.
Zeladiel loads a poisoned arrow on his bow.
"I'll take a closer look at the magic items when we rest."
"Hmm. Rokova's wand wasn't magical. No magic items but some spell auras on him. Maybe a second illusion? A shapechanger? Whatever he is, he had better lead the gnolls away."
Working quickly you stash the (blood-stained) armour in the haversack, cutting away non-essential parts to ease the task. Your just finished when the sound of even more gnolls from above spur you down the steps, Khalid locating a mechanism below that moves the throne back into place and Grall leading the way with his darkvision.
With the enlarge spells now expired, it is much easier for the gnoll and Sajan and you make decent progress.
Halfway down, the stairs veer off to the east and the air grows both humid and strangely full of the smells of decaying vegetation.
Descending for another minute or so (its hard to tell precisely how deep into the mountain you are now, but at a guess, very) the stairs end, the path opening up into something completely unexpected.
An elaborate underground garden lit by softly glowing crystals in the solid stone ceiling twenty feet above. Gravel walkways wind between verdant trees and shrubs that rustle softly in a gentle breeze that seems to come from nowhere.
As the garden’s centerpiece, cracked granite benches surround a cobblestone fountain filled with crystal-clear water. To the south, a gently flowing creek runs across a pebbly streambed that passes through a rock garden and into an iron grill drain along a passageway to the south.
To the north, a lone almond tree stands in alcove, while to the west, a double arch leads to a small circular room. Four sandstone sculptures chiseled into the forms of huge, angry faces stand throughout the room.
While the garden is lovely, there are signs of a battle here, although how long ago is hard to say. Several of the benches lie askew and in several places the vegetation seems to have grown over blackened circles. A half dozen broken arrows lie discarded on the gravel.