"You say that like it's a bad thing." Vex said with a disbelieving shake of her head.
"Makes me an even uglier elf!" says Brenna disbelievingly. "I feel weirdly dis-proportioned."
If Saphren was bothered by nudity, his or others, he does not show it. His well muscled and athletic body has a slight greenish tint to it from his orcish heritage. He endures the transformation stoically. When complete he notes with some alarm. Hells, I hardly need a banana hammock now.
Zoso has been quite quiet as these discussions have raged on around him. The shock of his own death and the loss of his elven form only days prior still linger, leaving him in an existential haze. Every time he tries to express himself it sounds like an angry outburst. Every thought consists of a scheme to become an elf again, an obsession that is still growing.
Standing as a Drow now, his chest feels continually compressed like if he was in the jaws of some fiend. The majority of the experience is cruelly and sickeningly similar to his time as an elf. "A cruel cruel joke." he mutters while scanning the body. "I kind of thought it'd smell worse, ya know?"
Done complaining for the moment, Brenna sits down and says, "All right, let's get the rest of the preparation done for this." Then she spends the next two hours trying to refit her armor, before giving up. "This stuff is custom-fitted. It's not going to fit this new body. I need an armorsmith to rework parts of it."
Which brings up my earlier question. What about Drow gear. We got the right skin now. But this gear is gonna stand out, isn't it? I guess we could jump the first group of drow we see but I'd think you have plenty od drow gear to hand out.
As Beshtori reluctantly disrobes, you are struck at how deeply the void-black streaks have marred zir hairless, mottled white-brown skin. Trying as best ze can to turn away from the others and keep zir genitals covered, ze submits to Giseil's touch with tears streaming down zir face.
When it is over, <he> collapses, sobbing inconsolably. Part of who <he> was has been ripped away - the pain and grief and horror are immeasurable.
Giseil ignores Beshtori's trauma as he looks over the group. "That's for you to decide. But good equipment is good equipment, and if you're survivors of a war then wearing the hodgepodge of - I must say - very impressive equipment you've amassed makes sense."
Meanwhile, Eviana pulls off her cloak, rushing over to Beshtori's side and draping the poor creature. "We've asked too much of you, I am so sorry. This is only temporary."
Kaerishiel is a little less sympathetic, or more tough love. "You have skills we need to save the planet. The sacrifices will be great. Frankly I ah, did not think about problems with sizing equipment. We have smiths and tailors available. Understand you are on a timer and have three months for your mission. I wouldn't take more than a day to get your equipment sorted or to buy what you need. That said, I would take some hand crossbows and poison bolts. Those ... things Giseil made also ensure you know how to use them."
---
The morning of your briefing, you assemble with Kaerishiel. "So, as drow. You were part of the battle here in Celwynvian, but when we elves got the upper hand, you went into hiding to wait for the elf gate to recharge. You watched from afar as we tried, and failed, to cleanse the portal, and when it recharged you stormed our camp, slaughtered the elves you found there, and swifly moved through the portal to the other side.
"As soon as you’re through, a half regiment of my best men will follow in pursuit to further confuse the matter. If there’s any drow on the other side, they'll likely be more concerned with our 'invasion' than a few bloodied stragglers. This should buy you the time you need to get lost in the chaos, and we should prevent the drow from taking advantage of the portal to return here. Once you're through, we will close the portal and seal the drow - and you - in the Darklands. You are one your own at that point. Hopefully you'll be able to assimilate yourselves into drow society, but if they question what happened here just tell the truth and ignore the fact the 'heroes' are now in the city."
He exhales as he looks you all over. "We get one shot at this. No matter what confronts you at the gate, remember we're the enemy at that point and there's no going back. Do whatever you need to do to sustain your cover."
You head into Celwynvian, and then into the Academy of the Arts towards the gate that was dead, near where you fought the aboleth. The shadow key which Beshtori now carries begins to glow and shimmer. The stone inside the arch grows smoky, and then clears to reveal a shadowy cavern beyond. An elven voice shouts "Run, dogs!" in Undercommon as the scouts ready their weapons for your flight through the portal.
Kaerishiel nods to you. "On three."
As the gate flickers into existence a huge war cry comes out from the elves, and you all charge forth! The five of you keep to the left as the elves pour through the gate.
Those of you unused to darkvision are shocked to find the world switch into greyscale as you enter a land without colour.
A drow encampment has been set up on the opposite side of the elf-gate. Several driders stand guard before the drow themselves and they are completely taken aback as an elven attack team charges through. The driders rear up and charge right past you to attack the elves. In the confusion you manage to mix into the drow forces, who are busy responding to the attack.
Lyra cast darkness on top of the drow and elves as she ran.
Briza plows through the lines, knocking over drow like bowling pins as she goes.
Briza and Lyra lead the charge as you run straight through the drow elves. The darkness spell snuffs out the torches and light spells of the elves, who cry out in confusion as the drow press on.
Lightning bolts crackle, lighting up the cavern briefly as driders blast the elven lines, however a volley of arrows fells one of the driders. The Shin'Rakorath are mighty warriors. You see Kaerishiel point at you and scream an order. An arrow whizzes just by Brizree's ear, trimming his long white hair. Hopefully an intentional miss.
The force of the elven attack is overwhelming the drow, who start to fall back in confusion, leaving the driders to bear the brunt of the attack. You are now within the elven lines - such as they are.
A wave of Obscuring Mist rushed out from Lyra's position blotting out the battlefield, then, confident that none could see her, she cast Daylight on the far side of the drow lines, forcing them to run beneath the painful light, through the blinding mist to escape.
Saphren stealths forward, moving at full speed. He considers dropping elf or two "for effect" but decides it would be in poor taste. He keeps his weapon ready and his party close. Those Driders are nasty things. I wonder if that form was a reward or a punishment. he shudders a little despite himself.
Keeping close to Brenna's heels as they run, Brizree whips out <his> wand as the arrow flies past, sending one bolt of force to each of four elves with bows. I hope that looks good enough, without really hurting anybody
Moving in step, Zoso fires several intentionally missing arrows off at the Elves as the group retrests with the Drow. "Reform our lines with the other's m'lady?" he asks Briza.
The drow are beaten back from the gate with several casualties. The Shin'Rakorath take their position on the other side of the gate for a moment before they get ready to return to the surface. You fall back with the drow, now mixed in their number. They are furious and confused, and as you move into a cavern out of line of sight they fall into open fighting over who should take command. Some shout commands to clear the dead over others, while others demand that someone keep an eye on the Elf Gate. During the chaos of the retreat, the Shin'Rakorath themselves retreat, and the Elf Gate is shut.
You are trapped in the Darklands.
Quickly moving to the side, you start playing your parts and talking. The rest of the drow are too busy shouting at each other to really care much about you. On his ire, one bellowing drow stomps on the throat of a wounded companion lying nearby - killing him instantly. One thing everyone agrees on - send a runner back to Zinakaynin to alert to the guards' leaders at House Vonnarc of the attack.
---
One drow does notice you. A slight, somewhat sickly-looking elf who was hiding under a cart during the melee emerges. He coughs into his sleeves and dusts himself off with a half-smile before approaching you directly. In the black-and-white of darkvision, his grin is a scintillating white. "You lot aren't guardsmen like these fools now, are you?"
He puts a finger to his lips. "Don't need to say much. I can see you've been to the abyss and back, and probably know a few things. Here's what I offer. My name is Gadak Simiryin, and I was here to make a delivery. No point of that now, so I'm back to the city, and my employer the mighty House Vonnarc. What I see here for me is an opportunity."
He points at the other drow. "These are the suicide squad, waiting for more traitor-elf arrows. You stay here, you're conscripts and it's a bad life. Follow me, and maybe we talk to House Vonnarc. I know talent when I see it. What say you?"
Saphren looks are the carnage only for a moment and then, turning back to Gadak says An easy decision. Count me in.
Briza looks at the speaker in a leisurely fashion, then to Lyra and says, "Forward, isn't he?"
"An opportunist with an opportunity." Lyra said. "Better than staying here."
Gidak flashes another grin, and the cowardly drow leads you to his cart, which is laden with alchemical reagents and drawn by two large lizards. "Then we shall move. Onwards you beasts or you'll taste my whip!"
---
You leave the now-closed Elf Gate and head into the Darklands, the Cold Hell. You recall some of the information relayed to to you on the geography of the strange subterranean realm.
The Darklands are divided into three layers. The surface layer, Nar-Voth is the most well-known by surface dwellers and has been explored to at least some extent. It consists of countless isolated cave networks with the occasional long-winding tunnel connecting them. Its inhabitants are largely the deranged derro, the sinister duergar, and the primitive troglodytes.
You, however, are in the middle layer, Sekamina. Here, surface knowledge is scant. Unlike Nar-Voth it is known to be a single continuous realm, and as you now know, the drow reign supreme here.
There is a layer below you known as Orv. And that is all you know.
---
The Darklands are hauntingly beautiful. The native flora are entirely fungi. Strange mushrooms of limitless shape and size decorate your travels. Enormous crystal formations, elaborate rock structures, stalactites and stalagmites provide no shortage of interesting terrain.
After traveling through a some smaller, branching tunnels you hit what serves as a main road, a 40' wide tunnel which Gadak refers to as 'The Long Walk'. It is clear of debris and easy travel.
Gadak is unusual considering how the drow you have encountered have been haughty and guarded. Gadak is bumbling, cowardly, and a little foolish. He is endlessly deferential to the two females in your number, and talks. A lot. He talks of his childhood growing up in Zirnakaynin, and how he - the cleverest and most resourceful drow - managed to land employment with the Great and Terrifying House Vonnarc. He talks (with shocking candor) of being used and discarded as a mate by a female captain in the House. He begins to talk about the latest gossip - the inter-House politics, but then stops himself.
"I am talknig too much, I know, I have been whipped for it deservedly." He glances to the rest of you. "But you... you have the real news. What happened in Celwynvian? We know nothing and fear the worst."
Brizree listens intently to Gadak's prattling, trying to absorb as much information as possible while trying not to gawk to obviously at <his> surroundings. Being a lowly male fits well with Besh's desire to remain quiet and inconspicuous; nevertheless, when Gadak mentions Celwynvian, Brizree snorts and mutters darkly: "It did not go well..." but will leave it to the others to explain in more detail.
"Celwynvian failed. The traitors killed Nolveniss." Lyra said, derision and contempt dripping from her voice.
Having been chastised for speaking out of line Saphren is quiet unless specifically spoken to but also absorbs what he can and grows mindful of how much he does not know of this new realm. At some point when Gadak is talking directly to him Saphren will ask Where does House Vonnarc now stand and what houses are their biggest rivals. He hopes to keep the drow talking.
"Revenge needs to be mounted, if nothing is known I assume plans for such have not been laid?" Zoso then looks over the drow man and attempts to get his head about what drow perceive as 'diplomacy.' "It is fitting that the powerful House Vonnarc will receive us and our precious knowledge."
Gadak viciously whips one of the lizards, which hisses. "Nolveniss is dead?! Bah, that is bittersweet news. His death is power to Vonnarc, although if the surface presence fails so too does our best connection for surface supplies."
He scowls and shakes his head, obviously more concerned with his own hide then the fate of the army. "Bah. No matter. Always opportunities, right?" He flashes a wicked grin over to Saphren after he speaks up. "I suppose you've been up sunside for a while now, eh? If I'm going to offer you up I may as well ensure you're in the know."
Gadak produces a flask from his side and takes a swig before offering it around. It is a nauseatingly sweet liquer of mushrooms and who-knows-what else. "Vonnarc is lead by the dread Matron Pravora, who worships Areshkagal. However, our reputation is for our wizards, her first son Alicvaniss is the most powerful master of the arcane in the city. Particularly with Nolveniss dead. And in our halls the house Azinrae is our hated rival moreso than any other. I would not speak their name in front of a superior. The failure of Azirnae to maintain our hold on the surface will be a terrible blow to the house." He grins.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Lyra popped a small draught into her mouth and swallowed before taking a sip of the liqueur. She swallowed slowly, as if she was being very careful. To anyone else, it might seem like drow paranoia. To the rest of the party, it was cleared. Lyra was not used to having intact lips or cheeks.
Saphren nods, taking in the knowledge. I never paid much attention to the demon gods, but I'd prefer not to get something wrong. Is there any observances I should know about for this Areshkagal? It sounds like you are going to have us around a higher level of drow than I am comfortable with. I am trusting you to keep us out of trouble.
Gadak winks over to Saphren. "Oh you can trust me. Areshkagal is the lady of portals and riddles - secret knowledge is what Vonnarc craves. A six-legged sphinx with no face. Areshkagal is..." He chooses his words carefully. "Opaque. Worship how you are told to worship, but I can't give you any advice because I do not understand this demon lord - only the priestesses truly understand her riddles. Clever secrets are scared above all else."
You finish your line of questioning and continue on. Gadak chats idly of different bits of interesting information about the city and the relationship with House Azinrae, who you all know to be the architects of the invasion of the surface and the plot to bring on a second darkness. The walk is long and tiring as you keep pace with his slow-moving cart.
Azrinae and Vonnarc were once close allies. However, the matron they were allied together with perished mysteriously, to be replaced by her weak daughter. As the relationship soured, a strange drow "cult leader" named Allevrah came to Zirnakaynin. She knew more of the surface elves than anyone, and was fanatical about destroying the surface. Allevrah was welcomed into the family, killed the matron, and took over the house. Most of House Azinrae is now outside of Zirnakaynin chasing Allevrah's genocidal dreams.
----
As your journey closers to Zirnakaynin Gadak slows up his lizards as the sounds of a fight echo down the cavern. He glances over to you, grinning mischievously. "Trouble... or an opportunity? Trouble for whom I imagine?"
The cart finally stops as the scene comes to light.
Four strange-looking creatures that look like bald gnomes with grey skin are engaged in a battle with a horrific monstrosity. A huge conical creature with one eye and an enormous maw with long fibrous strands like tentacles whipping about wildly.
All four of the gnomes are held upside-down before its maw, screaming as they dangle in front of the creature. The creature seems more interested in talking philosophy.
"But what does pain mean, I ask you? The Rough Beast preaches that it is reward for its own sake, a gift to the punisher from the victim to be savored. All things lead to destruction, as you well know little svirfneblin. But the path we take is what interests me. Is your pain worth savoring? Or should I just eat you and get on with it?"
"AHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The little grey gnomes are svirfneblin, an underground race of gnomes known for their resilience in one of the most hostile realms in the world. They are known to surface races as suspicious and insular, but non-hostile, and occasionally kind. Their connection with the fey is even stronger than with surface gnomes, and as such they are known for odd temperaments, but not evil. LIttle is known of their societies, but they are rumoured to live in spectacular cities - which none but a svirfneblin has ever found.
The philosophizing aberration is a notorious Darklands predator known as a roper. Their fibrous strands or 'ropes' can snatch prey from long distances, and although they are quite intelligent, their minds are alien and motivations opaque. They love to talk, philosophize, and eat people. /spoiler]
[spoiler=Dungeoneering DC 27]
Ropers loathe fires, and they can extend up to six strands an incredible distance, up to fifty feet. They have spell resistance, and are immune to electricity and do not mind the cold.
Gadak leans back in his cart. "Well now."
Svirfneblin. Saphren says in quiet observation. An underground race of gnomes known for their resilience. They are suspicious and insular, but not normally hostile, and occasionally kind. If we can save them they could make valuable allies. What is that thing that has them?
"My, my. Well that is a Roper. Not sure how long it's tentacles can stretch but we'd be best to speak with it from a far if we're not going to outright attack. That makes think, this is a unique opportunity. Does anyone have a particularly vexing question? Something existential would do well. Perhaps we can trade it with the beast for these Svirfneblin."
Brenna leans over and whispers very carefully to Zoso (to avoid eavesdropping; and she shoots an angry, intimidating glare at their guide if he attempts to do so).
"You're an elf who died and was reincarnated as a dwarf and you don't have any existential questions?"
Zoso replies with equal care, "A few days ago my soul was wrapped in filth and then earlier today dipped into the vile blood of abomination... Would you believe me if I said I worry whether I could sell it, spinning it to come from this Drow point of view and all? I'm willing to try, m'lady Briza, if that's all we have." Zoso forces a smile, he had been doing so well at forgetting the Dwarf underneath it all. At least in this Drow form he felt surprisingly close to his old Elven way.
Looking at the group, a bit wide-eyed, Brizree says: "But... true pain is of the mind, the soul, not of the body."
"Pain is not a gift. Or a reward. Or something to be savored. It does not mean anything. It is only pain. The lessons it teaches and prices it inflicts do not give it significance." Lyra said flatly. She notched an arrow to her bow, clearly about to attack the monster.
"Tentacle-trees are useless to us," says Briza as she unlimbers her axe. "As opposed to the alternative."
Gedak stifles a laugh as it becomes clear you intend to save the svirfneblin. "Allies? Gnomes? Well, you're the ones with the large weapons so I leave the decisions to you. If you're mad enough to fight a roper I will... be over here."
Gadak leaps behind his cart as you prepare to fight.
However, you are noticed.
"Ahhh! Guests!" cries the roper, who flings a svirfneblin into his mouth before swallowing it. The others scream in terror as they realize they've been found by drow. Frantically they call out in undercommon, offering deals, riches, wealth, anything.
"You! The sickly one, you have the right of it. The greatest pain -is- of the mind - notice the gnome I just ate didn't really feel much. Well, I'm sure he's feeling a lot now, but his pain was knowing that his death had come. The female has the wrong of it, pain must have purpose - the Rough Beast demands of it."
The Rough Beast is Rovagug, the deranged evil God bent on destroying the world.
What do you know of these things Besh? Saphren whispers. I'd rather not get grabbed by those rope things. Also we are gonna need a haste spell.
"You couldn't be more right, Brizree. Let me try to sell it on something, jump in if it sounds like I've lost my mind.." Standin up in the cart with his bow idly in his hand, Zoso momentarily has a flash of how the conversation with the black dragon went but shakes it from his head.
"Ahem, my friends and I couldn't help but overhear your debate, and I must say we're intrigued. If you'd allow me, I wish to trade words and a type of pain for them, the Svirfneblin. If you'd put them down on the ground, I have some thoughts on this abstract pain comodity."
"As you said, mental pain is paramount of the two, it is much more potent in suffering. How I understand this, the receiving of said suffering by the predator through the direct means of causing harm gives immediate satisfaction for a rate what we'll call one to one. Watching someone else place pain upon another is only mildly satisfying, isn't it? The rate of pain reward isn't as strong, so we'll say two to one or one-half. Now you've already begun to threaten termination of the rest of these, either as a tactic or because you're speaking your mind, I'm not sure, but it seems clear from my point of view that you have extracted about as much from these creatures as you expected to. We'll arbitrarily say that what you have gathered here is a barrel of pain. Not bad for a days work, but what I offer is more sustaining. My Lady wishes these as slaves and I can promise you that we'll rarely let them sleep and will beat them often. We're going to dress them up as Dwarves, their mortal enemies, and force them at our parties to perform a demeaning show that ends in their shaming and flogging. Now what you'll receive here today is a memory that will pay you rewards over and over and over. Every time you think of this day you'll be able to revel in the knowledge that these creatures are still alive and still being tortured, you'll reap barrels and barrels of pain over time. All because of you. It's the greatest gift you could give the Rough Beast."
Looking over to Saphren, Brizree looks troubled: "I know very little about ropers, but if they are worshipers Rovagug, then there's little chance of winning this through diplomacy."
Then, a curious look on <his> face, Brizree smiles cryptically: " Be ready - when the time comes, I will show you where to strike."
In the mean time, Brizree will attempt to conceal <his> spellcasting behind the cart and the others while Zoso provides distraction.
Lyra stood behind Brenna to break line of sight with the creature then when she was pretty sure it was distracted by Zoso, she put a hand on Brenna's back and whispered an incantation.
Vex rode Lyra's shoulder and once they were out of sight, she vanished completely.
"This is a ranged fight. We should stay as far away from that thing as possible." Lyra whispered from behind Brenna.
The roper looks delighted, its enormous maw gaping as Zoso does his best to engage with its deranged philosophy. The svirfneblin continue to thrash and scream.
"Quiet!" It raps one of the gnomes on the ground, which seems to shut it up for now. It listens carefully to Zoso for a while before laughing hysterically. It is a horrific sound, its entire body shaking with mirth. "But what of the pain I intend to inflict upon you, impetuous drow? Surely you must understand that I am here not just to inflict pain, but to eat. Your kind are most succulent, and the lizards will keep me in lean times. I see but a feast before me, even a clever one."
It still makes no move to attack, and Zoso seems to be doing a good job of distracting it, if anything. Enough so that it ignores the range spell and the whispers.
Lyra continued quietly casting spells.