"Zevgavizeb?" Ary wonders aloud, if quietly, recognizing the implements of sacrifice, but not really knowing much else about the Demon Lord. Anevia only scowls at the foul shrines, but the two manage to keep their composure. She looks as though she wants to say something, but then bites it back.
Xanderghul never visited Zevgavizeb's lair during his time in the Abyss, and he is not ready for the awful smell of the troglodytes when they reach the central chamber. He wrinkles his nose and covers his mouth with a bit of cloth from his robe, groaning.
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Trying hard to keep up appearances, Hinagiku keeps her head bowed as they make their way to and through the trodlodyte's den. She does begin to hold her breath when she notices the stench of the room.
Hinagiku nods to what to be herself when Isilme calls upon her. In one smooth motion she lets her tunic fall to the ground to reveal the wraps that cover her chest. With calm, she reaches for the piece of clothing she wears around her neck, lifts her head to look give one first and last look at the champion, and covers her eyes with the blindfold Transcendent Sight .
It takes Hinagiku mere seconds to do all this, but her calm and deliberate actions make it seem like a minute. And only once she is ready does she enter the fighting ring made by the troglodytes (assuming that they left space for the fight).
With each graceful step toward the champion, Hinagiku focuses on what she can sense of the ley, her fingers slowly moving to pickup invisible threads. And once she is 20' away from her foe, she lifts her hands, letting the naturally flowing invisible threads wrap around her limbs and build a shield around her. Slowly, as she infuses the ley with the holy power residing within her body, the threads turn blue and white, still only visible only to those who can sense the ley. And there she waits.
The giant troglodyte is bigger and wider than Hinagiku, so it falls for her bait. It charges across the fighting ground at her, claws extended. But still ten feet from her, he suddenly falls to the ground, as if forcefully pulled. Slowly, he stumbles to his feet, caught off guard.
You've noticed as you've walked, climbed, and crawled - the tunnels within the trog territory are completely devoid of fungal vegetation. This strikes you as unusual, compared to the rest of your trip in the Darklands. So far you have found that fungal growths are more common in the Darklands than you would have expected on the surface.
"Lle sana ilya i' gelir n'e en' sina." Val playfully mocks as they ultimately decide to have Hinagiku handle the brawl. She crosses her arms and watches, confident that the monk can easily win an unarmed battle against one of the reptilian creatures.
After years of exposure to flatulent dretch gas, Ehren has more or less grown immune to terrible odors. But though it fails to turn his stomach, the troglodytes' revolting stench is nonetheless an assault on the senses. Not that it distracts him from the matter at hand.
Ehren's eyes do not leave Hinagiku as she fights, and not just because she is wearing less clothing than before. (Though blessedly, rocks cannot blush, among other things.) He is absolutely confident that she can crush the troglodyte champion with little effort, blindfolded; what concerns him is whether the reptilians will stay true to their word after the fact.
Knowing time is of the essence, Hinagiku calls upon the power of the ley to give her speed. Threads begin to form a wave beneath her feet and propel her towards the champion. Before he evens stand up, Hinagiku has closed the 10’ gap between them with a single graceful step. With the momentum, she lifts one leg wrapped in the ley and brings it down on the troglodyte’s head. As she lands, Hinagiku spreads her legs legs almost in a split, avoiding on the champions attack. Taking advantage of the opening, Hinagiku jabs him three times to the abdomen with her palm face open.
Before the lizardman can even fully regain his bearings, Hinagiku closes the gap between them in a flash. Her first strike to the head leave the reptile reeling, then with a single strike to his abdomen, the troglodyte is knocked out cold.
The troglodytes surrounding the fight had been yelling with excitement, jumping up and down while shaking the bony adornments on their clothing, tools, and weapons to produce a constant rattling sound. When their champion falls, though, the trogs all go silent. The blistering hot, musky cavern is so quiet than even a pindrop could be heard.
While the others' eyes are on the fight, Xanderghul's eyes are on the crowd of troglodytes. Luckily, he speaks both Abyssal and Elven, so he has a pretty good grasp of what was going on - something he relays periodically to his less-linguistically-gifted allies. Still, he is suspicious that such a negotiation will turn out poorly. When Hinagiku defeats the champion instantly, he nearly laughs. Of course. These pathetic creatures couldn't possibly pose any threat to he or his allies.
Still, Xanderghul is always on the lookout for betrayal. He keeps a handful of pink, blue, and yellow sand ready to cast color spray just in case the anything untoward happens. Meanwhile, he turns to Valaria and Isilme. He whispers under his breath, "Ink i'hi ashâk gu nu libukag, nu ik pim!"
The fight was over so fast that Isilme barely had time to react. The scene was so comically pathetic, she actually laughed, instead of merely as part of the act.
"ובכן ... זה היה פחות מרגש ממה שקיוויתי," Isilme says, regaining her composure. "עכשיו אתה תקיים את סיום ההסכם, נכון? מחווה בזהב, והבחירה שלך בקבוצה שעוקבת אחרינו. תגיד ל אנגרד =שלח אותך, הם יבינו." she says, eyeing the troglodytes.
"Now you will uphold your end of the bargain, correct? Tribute in gold, and your pick of the group following up behind us. Just chant 'Angradd', they will understand."
From the blank expressions and simplistic language they use, you aren't sure the Troglodytes are intelligent enough to understand much of what you've been saying, beyond briefly understanding individual words like 'meat' and 'fight' and 'champion', and then forming their own conclusions. Indeed, it would take a fairly advanced user of Draconic (like an actual dragon) to really understand someone as verbose as Isilme is being. She speaks like she is talking to an academic. So any 'deal' Isilme thinks she has made with the troglodytes is dubious at best - she senses they don't have enough grasp on spoken language to have understood any previous terms. This is a very delicate situation to be in as a result.
Isilme sighs, the trogs were as lacking in intellect as they were gifted in malodorousness.
Isilme points in the direction they needed to head, "אנחנו הולכים עכשיו" then she points in the direction they had come from, "אתה הולך לשם, נלחם בדורגר עבדי בשר שם"
"We go now,"
"You go there, fight duergar, meat slaves there"
Hinagiku takes down her blindfold and slowly comes to a resting position. The infused threads of ley slowly escape her fingers while she gives one last look at the troglodyte champion. As Isilme had said, such a tribe could only live where no one else would find them, they were much to weak to fight any other race... somehow, she felt sorry for them.
Finally, reminding herself to keep the charade, Hinagiku bows her head back down, picks up her tunic before returning to her companion's side.
As Xanderghul explains what was going on, Ary winces. "Is... there any way we can save them?" she whispers into the spell.
The troglodytes glance at each other, softly grunting and snarling to one another in the harsh language of reptiles. "לטבוע חזק. חזק יותר מצ'וקסיל."
"חזק. חזק. חזק יותר. חזק." they continue to snarl amongst themselves, wide-eyed. They slowly withdraw, crawling up into the walls and into the numerous tiny side caverns to escape rapidly and with cover.
"Drow strong. More Strong than Chuxil."
"Strong. Strong. More strong. Strong."
Lann loudly exhales. "Oh! Well. That was rather tense." He grimaces. "This place is rather gruesome. I'd like to leave. I need better air."
Dornarnus nods, gruffly. "Aye. We should just kill the one that was left behind, here. Trogs are vicious, stupid little creatures."
Javyn shakes his head. "Nay, you have the wrong of it. I've met some that are simple, but easy enough to treat with, if you come at them slowly." He bends down to inspect a charred skeleton. "I'm not speaking for this tribe, however. See this? It seems like they are sacrificing troglodytes on this stalagmite, impaling them through." He gestures at the injuries suffered to the rib cage.
Dornarnus huffs. "Ye see? Vicious. Well, let's get a move on, then. This cavern feels like bad omens. I can feel it everywhere."
"They are gone, so let us depart quickly. The Duergar can figure out how to pass through on their own, but I will do no more for these creatures. They demanded meat-slaves Ary, they are not ones to be 'saved'," she replies, a little bit surprised to have Ary asking to spare clearly evil creatures who were willing to do even worse things than the duergar it seemed.
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That is why they need saving. Hinagiku thinks. But the truth was that everywhere there were people in need of saving... and some threats were more dangerous than others. Returning to the Worldwound was the most urgent. With a mental prayer for the poor troglodytes, Hinagiku prepares herself to leave.
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"I'm not sure I speak enough of their language to make a sentence they could understand, much less convince them to change their moral outlook on life. I'm also not sure if I consider eating sentient creatures to be worse than slavery or not and I'm slightly disappointed in myself that I've never thought about it."
"These aren't tieflings who were abused and shunned by society, for whom we bear some responsibility. These are evil creatures born and raised within an evil culture, whose beliefs revolve around cannibalism and murder. Good is not relative, they are no more redeemable than demons are," Isilme replies.
Guided by Isilme and Ary, the heroes leave the troglodyte warrens. They double back around, and eventually they return to the outreaches of the Gunduara tribe territory. The heart of it is beautiful in comparison, the entry tunnel walls covered in a moss-like green fungus, opening out into an underground forest of petrified wood.
When Dornarnus' face emerges, the waiting dwarves erupt into a great cheer. They leap to their feet and rush forwards to embrace their captain.
In the meantime, Javyn and Lann move forwards to converse to Grila. Xanderghul's magic had already waned from Valaria, so only Lann was able to speak to the Gunduara. Whatever they are talking about, they seem relaxed. Grila smiles from ear to ear.
Javyn returns to the group with Lann. "The Gunduara will be able to claim new farmland, since you killed those two bulettes. That will make it much easier to feed all of the people we have freed. So Grila thanks you. And so do I."
Ehren expected an effortless victory, but even he did not realize that the duel would end so quickly.
"I would not go that far," he says finally, in regards to Isilme's last remark. Loathsome as the troglodytes may be, they are hardly the manifestations of pure evil that demons are. "I pity these creatures. I cannot imagine that they chose this kind of life of their own volition. But saving even just this one tribe could take a lifetime of goodwill."
A lifetime I cannot afford to spend here, Ehren finishes silently, knowing that his destiny lied elsewhere. There were others who needed his help far more than these creatures did.
---
Upon their return to the Gunduara tribe, Ehren finally reverts to his human form and lets out a tremendous sigh. Being underground again has been something of an enlightening experience for him; an aspect of earth he has been disconnected from for quite some time. He would have to meditate on it later, given the chance.
"There is no need to thank us," he says to Javyn with a smile, happy to be able to hold a proper conversation with the man. "I am just glad that we were able to reach you and the others in time."
The druid looks to Lann before asking, "Will you be joining us on our trip back to Drezen? I am sure that your father and the rest of the people of Neathholm would be happy to see that you are alive."
Javyn shakes his head in response to Ehren's question. "No, my purpose lies here, with my people. They need me."
At this, Lann's face turns grave. He gestures to Javyn. "A word, in private?" The two old friends excuse themselves into Grila's home.
Anevia plops herself down on the mossy ground, taking a breather while they talked. She grins, itching her nose beneath Ary's goggles. "Well, I'm ready to go back home. I miss the stars. Even the weird ones back in Drezen."
"I'm not sure I'd say entirely irredeemable, but we're not in any position to make an attempt right now. And we're probably not going to be coming back any time in the remotely predictable future." Val dismisses the illusion disguising herself as they leave the troglodyte caverns. "I know what you mean. We succeeded what we were trying to do here, I think it's time to head home with a job well done."
Isilme is relieved when they successfully return to the Gunduara village. As they approach she makes sure to switch her form back to one less offensive to the underfolk. While the battle and adventure had been a bit close for comfort at times, in the end they had prevailed.
"Do not forget the mass of bulette meat we procured as well, it will stay fresh until the spell wears off, but it would be best to prepare to preserve it somehow as there was a rather lot of it," she says, making a point to remind them to put it to use.
"While I am also certainly ready to get back so I can spend some time with Ai'sintar, taking off immediately would be risky I think, Val."
Thinking about the vast quantities of food available and the trip ahead, Isilme suddenly has an idea. "Since we should rest tonight here anyway, why not have a feast tomorrow to celebrate our success, and perhaps the beginnings of a good relationship between Angradd's Liberators and the Gunduarans?" Isilme suggests. "We could take off afterwards, and begin the long trek home."
Ehren watches with some concern as Lann and Javyn retreat into Grila's home. He has his suspicions about what Lann wants to talk to him about, but it is not in his place to intrude on the conversation of two old friends.
"I do not anticipate there being much danger on the way back to Janderhoff, but I am inclined to agree," Ehren says, a tad weary after their hours spent fighting and spelunking.
Anevia lifts her arms up, stretches her shoulders out, then yawns. "Yeah, I'm alright for sleeping out here. It's a long, long hike back home!"
"That's kind of the point, Isilme." Ary responds, "They don't know any better, and they're worshipping a demon lord as a result. Just because they don't look like us or think like us, doesn't mean they don't deserve better than they have." she says, clearly disappointed in Isilme's outlook. They could have easily taken that outlook with the Tieflings back home. She returns to her position and begins to aid in leading the others ahead. These creatures lived in the absence of choice, where all other options had been taken from them. It... made sense in that way that Isilme-the-Azata wouldn't care about them, but they had seemed different.
"Right. Bringing them home with us would be... nigh impossible."
* * *
"I agree with sharing the food, and taking advantage of the opportunity for respite... there's a lot we can still set right here, as well. We can mend Grila's old friend, perhaps, and gain the Gunduara still another ally." she says, pausing in thought. "And it will definitely be nice to delay darting through the tunnels for one day in a beautiful locale. Better than just having to get used to all black-and-white again."
"Maybe dispel your magic trick, and show them what we've brought, Isilme?" Ary suggests.
When the group reaches the Gunduara village, Xanderghul dispels his illusion as well and plops down on the mossy ground near Anevia. He may be hardy and a strong walker, but even he doesn't like to trudge around for hours and hours in caves. He is grateful for a safe place to lay down and rest. "I agree with no more traveling today," he sighs. "We have done enough for today. It's time to rest. Can we have an hour to just lay around and do nothing until we get up and get ready to party?"
"If we want to do a feast properly, we should all rest before hand," Isilme suggests. "I could use magic to prepare a feast, and perhaps you could make it possible for us to speak with the villagers for a while as well?"
After a few more moments, Javyn and Lann emerge from Grila's home. Javyn looks much more somber than he did before. "If I wouldn't be too much of a burden, I think I'd like to take you up on your offer. To see Drezen, I mean," he says with a stilted smile. "When will we be leaving?"
"Hmmmmmmm, well, I was thinking now-ish, but now the boss wants to stay the night. And maybe throw a celebration to sticking one to those duergar sometime tomorrow! Just you wait." Anevia grins. "We're gonna show you how we party on the surface!"
Javyn combs his whiskers with a grey, clawed hand. He didn't look that much different in the softly lit caverns of the Gunduara tribe, to be honest. Where Lann was partially a vivid green, Javyn's fur, scales, and even the humanoid skin on his arms were various shades of grey. "Oh?" He manages a more genuine smile, this time. "Then I'll be sure to get some proper rest, then!"
"Hey, Lann! Can I talk to you for a minute?" calls Xanderghul. With a huff, he heaves himself to his feet and ambles over to the Underfolk and his friend. "What would you say to offering these people to chance to come with us, to the Worldwound? I bet we could promise them sights they've never seen before, experiences that they could never have down here. I bet you'd be a great recruiter among these people. We could even offer them schooling if they were interested... and there are more Underfolk among us. They won't feel completely alienated."
Lann seems caught off guard that Xanderghul would be addressing him directly, but he relaxes as he listens to what Xanderghul has to say. He grins and shrugs. "I don't know about 'great', but, sure!" He thinks for a moment. "As long as Ary approves," he says, turning to her. "I don't want to violate protocol."
Basic Crusader recruitment protocol states that:
- A recruiter must be able to verify the moral character of any potential Crusaders.
- A recruiter can only approach full adolescents and older as part of a recruitment drive
- A recruiter can only approach those of healthy mind and body as part of a recruitment drive
- A recruiter may not bribe potential Crusaders into enlistment
- A recruiter may not engage in relations with potential Crusaders.
- Upon identifying potential new Recruits, a recruiter must escort or provide transportation for all potential Crusaders to a Crusader base to await evaluation and assignment by a Crusader Commander
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"We could offer, yeah. But... I think they've got their own fight, here. And without them here... this place just goes away, almost certainly." Ary responds, motioning to the surrounding forest. "I'm... hesitant to recruit people who are already in a war zone. It just doesn't feel right, yeah?" she says, pausing for a moment to chew her lip.
"The Crusades needs people... and I'd be remiss not to offer, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I'm... more on board with offering them the opportunity to come to Mendev, if Ehren's willing, no strings attached. As it stands, I'd worry we were bribing them with seeing the world, or press-ganging them to get them out of this situation." she says, shaking her head.
Lann nods at Ary's response. "Very well, I'll be sure to make the offer for them, but I won't try to persuade."
"If they decide to come with us by choice, then I can hardly refuse them," Ehren says, albeit with some hesitance. For all the hardships that come with it, this place is the Gunduara's home; he was not so quick to believe that they could offer the underfolk a better life somewhere else, much less the Worldwound.
Relaxing somewhat, the druid smiles. "In any case, I can conjure some food as well tomorrow. And if Grila allows it, I can enrich their new crops, though I suspect she is capable of doing so herself."
Xanderghul shrugs nonchalantly. "I wasn't planning on offering them piles and piles of gold to come with us. Besides, if we give every person here the chance to leave, and every single one of them chooses to leave, this place should disappear. The Worldwound isn't great, but it's a place to live. People can travel from there to anywhere else on the surface, too."
"I am interested to see if they'll take us up on the offer," Isilme says, joining in the conversation. "Giving up what you know and have for something that you have never seen but might be better. To choose to uproot all your families and leave it all behind. It would certainly be a story passed down through the generations. Even more so than the raid on the slaves."
"Before we leave, I believe we should attempt to finish attending to Old Ironfin's wounds as well. We would be doing him a favor removing it, and the material itself could be put to better use back in Drezen."
"While I approve of trying new things and new places, I get why a lot of people don't. We've been trying to make Drezen open to everyone of good intentions, and they're hardly the first underfolk we've recruited, so they shouldn't have too hard of a time if they come north. Putting a little distance between themselves and what are likely some pissed off duergar might benefit them, at least for a while."
Lann tilts his head at Isilme when she mentions healing old Ironfin. He was half-way through eating one of his packed trail rations, a simple, nourishing meal made of mixed dried berries, seed, and grain. "How will you manage that? We haven't any tools."
Unlike the others, Hinagiku remains distant from the crowd that welcomes their troop's return. In silence, she leans on an ancient fossilized trunk and watches the people interacting, and listens for the sound of duergars coming after them. But her watchful nature was not the only thing keeping her away from the group, a feeling of having abandoned the troglodyte's tribe was nagging at her mind.
Her thoughts are only interrupted when she catches a whisper discussion about redemption and care: the healing of old ironfin.
"I would be willing to help. With healing maybe? Ehren-kun, do you believe you could allow us to approach them?" she says softly, while approaching the others.
"I very much doubt that anyone other than Ary or Grila can hope to get close to Old Ironfin," Ehren replies, shaking his head. As much as he wanted to help the bulette, he was uncertain of their ability to get him to cooperate. "Even then, they have only just befriended him. Getting him to hold still long enough for us to remove the plates would be difficult indeed. The process alone would be difficult, not to mention excruciating."
With a wry smile, he adds more reassuringly, "Of course, I am sure we can think of some way to get it done."
"We would need a spell to sedate him, maybe a spell to be able to talk to him about what was going to happen if that were possible." Ary says as the topic is broached. "Maybe there is magic that could help to expedite the process, as well. We would need the proper tools... I'm sure a lockpick's kit would have some of them, and a medic's kit some more... but there would still be a lot of things missing. We would need a lot of healing capacity as well, and possibly magic to restore body or spirit as much as simply health."
"Do we know of any magic that could do any of those things? We likely need all of them in order to hope to succeed... freeing Ironfin would be similar in approach to attempting to free Mother Heartwood from her burden. We would need to all pitch in something, possibly multiple somethings, if we were to hope to succeed. Do you know of any tools that you might need that we don't have on hand, Ehren? Would any of us be able to create them?"
While the party discusses helping Old Ironfin, Xanderghul crouches on a particularly dense mushroom and frowns. "I posit that it's much more important for us to get back to the Worldwound than it is for us to spend a day's resources healing a bulette," he offers slowly. "I know that's unsatisfying, though. I'm willing to contribute share language and fabricate to create crowbars if we need. I also have an anytool, which we can form into anything."
While they talk, he pulls his blessed book out from his pack and begins to flip through it, casually looking at the sigils contained within. He regards the spells that he has access to. He also immerses his mind in the stream of all magic. "I am able to access all magic that exists," he adds. "I can scribe a new spell into my book tonight. Then rest and prepare it tomorrow, which means we can have access to any spell, even one that I don't know right now."
"Lann, while we plan this: Will you go and talk to Grila about inviting any of her people to come with us to Drezen?"
Lann nods in response to Xanderghul's question. "Of course. I was about to suggest we do just that."
Javyn scratches his whiskers. "As long as they have the option. Many of these people are raising families, so I am doubtful there will be much interest in uprooting and travel." He smiles a buck-toothed smile and turns to Lann, speaking in a teasing voice. "We can't all be vagrant spinsters like Lann."
Lann's cheek flushes pink and he laughs somewhat awkwardly. "Just wait until you come to Drezen with us. You'll see, the ladies can't keep their hands off me."
"Sure, sure," Javyn replies, chuckling.
"We can finish planning in the morning, I think. Now is a good time to get some rest," Isilme says, feeling the day's marching and combat on her. "Best to look at the problem fresh in the morning," she says. "Also, if you prepare tongues for me tomorrow, Xandergul, I could attempt to talk to Grila about moving to Drezen."
The heroes don't know what day it is, or what time it is. It is difficult to discern time in the Darklands, so their days simply become a function of their bodies' own internal clocks.
The heroes make camp and rest, then once they awaken they eat stored rations, groom, and meditate, read, or train. When they awaken, the Gunduara are still busy. The tribe never truly rests, it merely rotates in shifts. The rescued slaves have mostly integrated by now, assisting the tribe as they hunt, patrol, guard, and repair and build clothes, arms and armor. Others help with the raising of children, who are taught together in groups spanning a wide range of ages. They talk with one another openly, though none of the heroes can understand their tongue save for a few odd words here and there.
Nearby, one of Dornarnus' men is reading in dwarven to the others, who sit in a circle around him. They clean and sharpen their weapons while listening to him speak.
The dwarf is going over basic military tactics, then recounting a vivid story of how Angradd once slew a great wurm that could tunnel straight through solid stone.
As you rest, you dream. Valaria has been blessed with tranquil dreams of late. This evening, she is in Magnimar, in Varisia, at a cafe she had frequented. Varisian cafes are styled closer to Taldane bars, so rather than at a table she is sitting at a bar, with her order of choice.
Next to her is Arueshalae, the tiefling who is on the run from cultists of Deskari. For the past year, she has been a frequent guest in her dreams. This night, Arueshalae was dressed in a nice blue and white dress, rather than her usual leather armors. She's drinking caffè con panna, espresso topped with a dollop of whipped cream, seated in the barstool next to Valaria. She smiles brightly. "Valaria! It has been awhile since we've met. This place is lovely! What was it called?"
There is a lone troglodyte pacing around the petrified forest. You recognize him as a freed slave. The Gunduara give him a wide berth, likely because of his foul smell.
Arueshalae leans back and grins. "I'd love to! I'm camped out in this lovely little inn in Absalom, actually. What have you been up to? Are you nearby?" Her eyes light up with anticipation as she awaits Valaria's answer.
Xanderghul doesn't need to rest long due to the magic of his ring, so he stays up alone while the other party members sleep, furiously (but carefully) scribing new arcane runes into his spellbook. He's found that the party would benefit from large-scale glamers several times recently, and so he scribes seeming into his book. With such a spell, he could disguise Ary, Anevia, Hinagiku, and Ehren all at once. With Val, Isilme, and his magical disguise abilities, they could then manage to magically customize the appearance of the entire group at once. Such a power would really help to pull off more and more complex infiltration plans.
The remaining hour of the night and much of the time that the others spend preparing for the day is spent praying to himself and studying his spellbook. When he finishes preparing his magic, he spends twenty minutes casting sending in order to communicate with people back home in Drezen. It wouldn't do to go too long without communicating, after all. Updates about their status were key to a functioning chain of command.
While he does all of this, he keeps an eye and an ear out for what the party's plan might be.