Ja'far turns around, surprised to hear from Husayn. "Raam was never my home, my friend. Noneless, Raam has been surprisingly, hospitible to me."
Even more surprising to him were the blades fastened to his back.
"Hmm, here I thought court life would of made you soft Husayn, I am wrong. Conflict seeks us like shelter from the storm. Very well, know that whatever greets us in those ruins will be far more dangerous than the dissidents of Raam."
Garavel's features seem to predict another rabid outburst, twin pools of crimson hue pooling conspicuously in his cheeks. The man's lips begin to sputter with his next verbal retaliation, but are dowsed before the geyser can erupt by some unknown force. Garavel's eyes turn white for a moment, his pupil's seemingly dissolving into the surrounding pupil. Simultaneously, the obsidian surface which rises from the man's forehead glistens in the sunlight as it appears to hum with a persistent murmur of energy, an eerie echo in tone something like a bumble bee. He has been... cut short?
For the first time in the entire midday convocation, the Lady Almah makes her voice heard among the assembled dignitaries of House Vordon and their various travel companions. Her mellifluous voice rises clearly over the low murmur of those congregated on the observation deck, as well as the pulsing buzz still emitted from her silenced, glass-eyed major domo Garavel.
"Peace, friends, be assured that there is no strong word between my house and your persons. No, our minds are one, and our wills are joined in this matter, and there is no cause for anger or hurt."
It seems as if the Lady Almah seizes a deep, steadying breath before forming her next statement, possibly anticipating strong objection from a number of those assembled before her,
"Indeed, I, your noble patron of House Vordon, approve readily of this desire to investigate the apparently restless bones of my family's ancient home. I cannot deny that I am as curious as any here to know more of the source of this disturbance... To ensure the greatest possible chance of this expedition's success, I am sending my bard Slavathras to accompany your group into the remains of Kalidnay. Not only does he have previous experience of this deadly terrain, having visited it in the past, but he will know what, why, and how to report that which I will require an account of upon your party's return. He will, I doubt not, provide invaluable aid to your company in this undertaking."
Slavathras' unsettling yellow eyes gleam with an inner slight as he smiles slightly in what might well be an expression of knowing self-contentment, and inclines his head respectfully towards the person of his noble patron.
For her own part, the Lady Almah seems to steady herself as she concludes, determined to reach the end of her pronouncement before any objection arises from her collected addressees,
"In light of this new objective, I shall order Destiny's Chariot to pause outside the ruins of Kalidnay for three days and three nights, after which you and Slavathras shall all return to me with a report of what you have found on your expedition. We shall, and I think I can safely speak for my kin among the assembled dignitaries of House Vordon, eagerly await the result of your reconnaissance."
There is little time to contemplate the apparent change of heart among the leaders of the caravan, or to mark the seemingly return of Garevel's senses to him, before a new excitement stirs those gathered on the platform.
Suddenly, a previously unheard voice arises from an auburn-haired lady swathed in a curious iridescent mantle of chameleon skin. Her back faces the rest of the assembly, looking out towards the back of the palace.
"What could that be?"
Most of the assembled, including the Lady Almah, her bard Slavathras, House Vordon's major domo Garavel, the former eunuch of Raam, the mul slayer Husayn, the druid of Tyr Dalman, and Cloudbreather the Pterran, quickly swarm to her position to take in the object of her curiosity, and are all similarly taken aback by what they now have occasion to witness.
Quickly filing the horizon is another... caravan of some species. Unlike the Chariot, it is quite low to the ground, and is not drawn by massive beasts of burden. Instead of the pair of Iguanasaurs, the low-set object is apparently supported by a thousand or more bodies on each side of its essentially square profile. They walk in an eerie, silent unison, bearing the massive object only a few feet above the sands of the towering dunes that surround the ruins of ancient Kalidnay, wasted cty-state of the departed sorcerer-queen Kalid-Ma.
From its trajectory, it appears the new caravan has been moving in a steady circuit around the city, an arc which has just now intersected with that of House Vordon's moving palace as it passes by the ruins.
Both its silence and low profile have apparently hidden it thus far from detection by those aboard Destiny's Chariot.
The immense base of the platform, wider even than that of Destiny's Chariot seems to be made of one enormous, thin sheet of obsidian that has been carved with elaborate runes, the extent of which can be seen only it a limited perspective from beneath the awning that covers most of the object. For from each corner arises a massive kind of pyramidal parasol that covers almost the entirety of the obsidian platform's surface in a deep shadow that protects any below its embrace from the harsh glares of the crimson sun.
The effect is of a pyramid flying at a low altitude near the ruins of Kalidnay, and is at once bizarre, even humorous, and unsettling.
Without any warning, the strange object comes to a sudden halt a hundred or so feet from the moving palace of House Vordon.
In a moment, a small shape seems to emerge from under the extent of the pyramidal awning, an object that upon closer inspection appears to be a dark hemisphere that casts a deep shadow below it, and hovers slightly over a small figure walking towards the space between Destiny's Chariot and the new caravan from which it has just emerged.
Upon reaching the center point, a loud, unpleasant voice arises unmistakably to the hearing of those assembled upon the observation platform,
"Know, oh people, that I am Nalcaros of Ebe, and am the Mouth of His Magnificence, Faalcuun the Dragon of Bodach. My master wishes to treat with representatives of your company, and requests that you quickly dispatch a delegation to me, his chosen mouthpiece, that I may bring them into his august presence."
Earlier....
Slavathras seems none too pleased that he's being sent with our lot into the ruins. Look out for some tensions coming to bear during this expedition...
After the appearance of the new caravan...
The ruins of Kalidnay held the curiosity of many of us, but I suspect few will be so eager to participate in this delegation. If the Lady sends her bard, then she's taking this engagement seriously. If not, then whomever is sent is likely disposable to her.
Rokan tries to recall information about this new caravan...
Is it closely tied to one of the sorcerer kings....
Or perhaps an influential teacher of The Way...
The name Bodach sounds familiar otherwise...
You recall the stories of Faalcuun the Majestic, one of the chief deputies of Dregoth, sorcerer-king of Giustenal, who was originally the 3rd champion of Rajaat known as the 'Ravager of Giants'. During Dregoth's millennia-long campaign during the Cleansing Wars to eradicate the giants of Athas, Faalcuun was his chief disciple and apprentice, and directed the armies of the eventual lord of Giustenal in their depredations. Faalcuun was famous for his cruelty and thoroughness, employing torture and various forms of biological warfare on behalf of his master's war-making. In particular, Faalcuun is famous for having administered a series of work camps on several isles of the Silt Archipelago, where he tried to exterminate many giant captives of Dregoth's campaigns with a brutal policy of forced labor to build factories and monuments for his liege.
Faalcuun is said to have stood with his master against Abalach-Re and the other sorcerer-kings who saw fit to halt Dregoth's ascent to full dragon status.
His fate after the battle that destroyed Giustenal is less clear, though he seems to have survived in some fashion, which perhaps give credence to the rumors that the power of Dregoth still stirs in the depths of the 'City by the Silt Sea'.
Faalcuun was principally a defiler -- if, as claimed by Nalcaros, he has also somehow begun the process of dragon metamorphosis, then he must have been similarly skilled in the psionic arts. However, he is not famous in this respect as he is for despoiling entire countries with his magic in the service of Dregoth.
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Bodach
The ruins of ancient Bodach sit alongside a dust sink east of the Great Ivory Plain. The city dates back to the Green Age, and its ruins cover many miles of the peninsula. A variety of undead creatures inhabit the ruins, crawling out of dark recesses as the crimson sun sets everyday. Rumors that a powerful defiler controls the undead have never been verified, but new tales claim that the undead have no master-at least not a living one.
One of the grandest ancient ruins on Athas, Bodach lies amid the maze of salt marshes, dry sinks, and silt basins known as Slat Meres. From miles away, its towers can be seen rising above the reeds. Long ago, Bodach was a city of great magicians, and mighty arcane secrets still to be discovered in the wreckage. However, few treasure-hunters dare to explore the impressive ruins. A terrible fate befell the city in the days of the Cleansing Wards, and now it is haunted by thousands of skeletons, zombies, and worst. The undead emerge each night at sunset in a vast horde to scour the surrounding countryside for living prey.
--The Wanderer's Journal
In the ancient wars that ravaged Athas, the city of Bodach was a great neutral power. Its armies and magicians jealously guarded the lands of the city-state while the rulers refused all offers of alliance with the warring defilers and preservers. Eventually, the great defiler warlords decided to eliminate Bodach, and a great host gathered to destroy the city.
The leader of this host was a human defiler and warlord named Irikos, "the left hand of Rajaat." Irikos' ancient duty was to eliminate the preservers in Rajaat's name, and when the Cleansing Wars began he turned to the conquest of all who did not stand with Rajaat's captains. Irikos possessed a powerful weapon named the Silencer. Using the weapon, he and his host systematically destroyed the armies of Bodach and sacked the city. Still, the last and most powerful sorcerers of Bodach managed to cast a mighty spell of destruction against the defiler warlord, which blasted Irikos to ashes even as his hordes threw down Bodach with fire and sword. Only the Silencer survived.
Faalcuun is said to have been a traitor to his city, and helped to deliver the city to the power of Irikos and the other servants of Rajaat.
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.
You have access to all the information in this pdf.
Faalcuun was a traitor to the Order of Lawkeepers, and helped open the city to the invasion of Rajaat's agents. He also was also an early student of the corrupted pyreen in the academy of sorcery in Bodach.
Faalccun eventually came under the influence of Dregoth, 3rd Champion of Rajaat, named 'The Ravager of Giants'.
He was a zealous adherent of Ireya, and was renowned for his immense cruelty in carrying out the letter of the law. In the service of Dregoth, he established a number of concentration camps for giants in the Silt Archipelago to extract their labor for machines of war and monuments to his dire liege, the 3rd Champion of Rajaat.
[dice=Knowledge, Nature]1d20+5
The dry wastes through which your company is passing is not infrequently a home to various kinds of intelligent undead, who can both survive in such arid regions, but also seek the solitude provided by the wastes.
[dice=Knowledge history]1d20+8
[dice=Knowledge Nature]1d20+8
[dice=Knowledge Planar]1d20+8
Chuckling at the elf's words, Shizuka snarks. "You cannot catch that which pushes you away. Also, I'd like to test your speed at some point. A friendly race perhaps?"
Pausing at the disturbance in the air, the pit fighter grimaces. Great, more unknowns. More importantly, unknowns able to hide their approach from me. Pushing air away from his, and towards the other carriage, the old man spins through his memories. Surely, someone mentioned some factoid in the pits, while wishing for home instead of a blade in the throat. Damn, it's moments like this I wonder what it's like to see rather than feel the world.
Malkaer puts a hand on Shizuka's shoulder. His face was a mask of concern. Whispering to his companions, he said:
"That is Faalcuun. I have heard his name sung on the winds. One of the lawkeepers. A servant of Raajat. It is whispered that he opened the gates of Bodach. He is a powerful defiler." The anger and hatred was evident within his voice. There was nothing he hated more. "Bodach once held the Rajaat's school of magic..." His voice trailed away...
Letting his body's natural current run free, Shizuka frowns. "A powerful defiler, just happening to appear after an unknown, powerful phenomena?" His tone carries just how unlikely a set of coincidence he believes such events to be. Adjusting his arcs to not his his companions, the old fighter dons his helm, the blank, white, plate helm soothing the lightning wielders nerves. "So who's getting tossed to the sand wolves?"
Letting his body's natural current run free, Shizuka frowns. "A powerful defiler, just happening to appear after an unknown, powerful phenomena?" His tone carries just how unlikely a set of coincidence he believes such events to be. Adjusting his arcs to not his his companions, the old fighter dons his helm, the blank, white, plate helm soothing the lightning wielders nerves. "So who's getting tossed to the sand wolves?"
[dice=SM]1d20 + 8
Kuro stands in shock at all those beings being used to pull the new vehicle. they look and feel...just dead, like they aren't even living.
his mind races to try and see if the info he's pick up over the years can help him learn more.[dice=Knowledge(Arcana)] 1d20 +6
[dice=Knowledge(engineering)] 1d20 +7
[dice=Knowledge(psionics)] 1d20 +5
[dice=Knowledge(dungeoneering)] 1d20 +5
[dice=Knowledge(geography)] 1d20 +7
[dice=Knowledge(Nature)] 1d20 +5
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"Time may be an issue, especially with a rival who may seek the same." offers Tkk-tkk. But she waits as it is not her choice to allocate resources.
Rokan continues conversing with Dalman and Misra.
"Faalcuun ultimately betrayed Bodach as an agent of Rajaat. He is a powerful defiler. I... don't see how a merchant caravan can hope to stand up to him if they wish to proceed with any claim of right to explore Kalidnay. If Faalcuun does not wish it, I suspect we'll be moving on soon..."
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The familiar voice of Misra arises in Rokan's mind,
I rather wonder if his 'Magnificence' has been purposefully awaiting our arrival. He certainly approached us as soon as we came within eye sight of the city, which suggests that he might well have been on the look out for a party such as ours. So many questions arise. Is Faalcuun actually present on this strange vessel before us, or is he sequestered in some other location, and in that case, where exactly is this Nalcaros intending to lead us?"
Her next pronouncement has a steely ring to its intonations,
"I, for one, intend to hear the voice of this legend. Foolish as it may seem to many, our order lives for knowledge of the Green Age. Even the smallest possibility of some insight into its wonders would drive me to incredible dangers, but to speak directly with a being who lived during that storied age... that is an opportunity I can in no wise resist. Dalman with doubtless vie with me for a place on the delegation if we are not both permitted to attend for some ineluctable rationale."
[Dice=Knowledge religion]1d20+8
Chuckling at the elf's words, Shizuka snarks. "You cannot catch that which pushes you away. Also, I'd like to test your speed at some point. A friendly race perhaps?"
Pausing at the disturbance in the air, the pit fighter grimaces. Great, more unknowns. More importantly, unknowns able to hide their approach from me. Pushing air away from his, and towards the other carriage, the old man spins through his memories. Surely, someone mentioned some factoid in the pits, while wishing for home instead of a blade in the throat. Damn, it's moments like this I wonder what it's like to see rather than feel the world.
[dice=Perception-Whispers in the Wind]1d20 + 18
[dice=Profession-Gladiator]1d20 + 8
[dice=Knowledge Arcana]1d20+7
[dice=Knowledge Dungeoneering]1d20+8
[dice=Knowledge Local]1d20+7
[dice=Knowledge History]1d20+7
Arcana:
n the ancient wars that ravaged Athas, the city of Bodach was a great neutral power. Its armies and magicians jealously guarded the lands of the city-state while the rulers refused all offers of alliance with the warring defilers and preservers. Eventually, the great defiler warlords decided to eliminate Bodach, and a great host gathered to destroy the city.
The leader of this host was a human defiler and warlord named Irikos, "the left hand of Rajaat." Irikos' ancient duty was to eliminate the preservers in Rajaat's name, and when the Cleansing Wars began he turned to the conquest of all who did not stand with Rajaat's captains. Irikos possessed a powerful weapon named the Silencer. Using the weapon, he and his host systematically destroyed the armies of Bodach and sacked the city. Still, the last and most powerful sorcerers of Bodach managed to cast a mighty spell of destruction against the defiler warlord, which blasted Irikos to ashes even as his hordes threw down Bodach with fire and sword. Only the Silencer survived.
About three Kings' Ages ago, a wandering adventurer named Rimmon discovered the ancient weapon in the heart of Bodach's ruins. With it, she led a band of heartless raiders and rose to great power. However, Rimmon dared too much. In her arrogance, she gathered a horde to attack Balic, but only succeeded in angering Andropinis himself. The sorcerer-king and his soldiers slaughtered Rimmon's desert rabble, although it is recorded that the bandit queen slew a hundred half-giants with the Silencer before she was killed herself. The sword was reportedly carried away from the defeat by one of Rimmon's lieutenants, a wily elf who escaped into the wilderness.
Over the years, the Silencer has appeared in the hands of a succession of slave tribes, raiders, and savages. Twelve years ago, it was recovered by a patrol of Tyrian soldiers from the lair of a fierce bandit and brought back to Kalak's armory. But with Kalak's death, the sword has disappeared again. It is thought that one of Kalak's templars took the blade and fled into the desert.
Local:
Kalidnay was once a large walled city home to Kalid-Ma the Sorcerer King and High priestess Thakok-An. Thakok-An attempted to ascend her king into a dragon using the life energies of the city's populace. This, however, ended up putting the king into a comatose state and uprooting the city through to the Shadowfell (Demiplane of Dread) (Ravenloft setting).
Exists as a ruin in Dark Sun, populated by various tribes and dangerous creatures.
Kalak of Tyr, believed to have slain Kalid-Ma ended up trying to repeat the process of ascension also trying to kill the populace (See Tyr).
History:
Approximately 3500 years ago, the sorcerer Rajaat and his Champions initiated what is know called the Cleansing Wars–a genocidal war on the humanoid races of Athas. Rajaat believed that in order to bring Athas back to the glory of the Blue Age, they must first destroy all the humanoids that had evolved since that time, so that the world could be returned to its original inhabitants: the halflings.
Great patches of forest withered and died as the Champions waged their terrible war and drew the life force to power their defiling spells. Some of the Champions succeeded in their wicked desire to eliminate whole races, for lizard men, pixies, and gnomes have vanished from Athas. Others came exceedingly close, like the Dwarf Butcher and the Tari Killer. The land itself suffered along with the nonhumans, for the Champions indiscriminately used defiling magic to increase their power. Whoever tried to oppose them, no matter what race they belonged to-even the human nations—fell before their dark powers.
The Champions had almost achieved victory when they realized Rajaat was mad. He had lied to the Champions, telling them that the world would be given to them and the other humans, but they learned that it was not the humans who would inherit the new-born Athas—it was the halflings.
The 13th Champion, Borys of Ebe, the Butcher of Dwarves, personally led the revolt against Rajaat; most of the other Champions sided with Borys in their betrayal of Rajaat. With the help of an artifact called the Dark Lens, Borys and the Champions imprisoned Rajaat beyond the shadow dimension of the Black, in a place of nothingness called the Hollow; they hurled his halfling guards into the Black. Both were secured with spells of holding and binding that remained in place until Tithian of Tyr disturbed them recently.
The Cleansing Wars came to an end, and the Age of the Sorcerer-Kings began.
Long ago, Bodach was a city of great magicians, and mighty arcane secrets still wait to be discovered in its wreck age. However, few treasure-hunters dare to explore the impressive ruins. A terrible fate befell the city in the days of the Cleansing Wars.
The unpleasant voice of Nalcaros arises again, assuming a deeper pitch, a booming timbre pulsating with an intensity that sends unsettling vibrations through the observation platform,
"HIS GREAT AND TERRIBLE MAJESTY, THE LAWKEEPER OF THE FALLEN, AND THE KEEPER OF JUDGMENTS AWAITS THE PLEASURE OF NO MAN. IMMEDIATELY DISPATCH A CHOSEN DELEGATION AND I, THE MOUTH OF HIS INDOMITABLE WILL SHALL BEAR YOU UNTO HIS AWESOME PRESENCE. BY THE DEAD OF ALL THE WARBRINGER'S CONQUESTS I SHALL NOT MAKE HIS REQUEST A THIRD TIME!"
Looking around uneasily, Malkaer said to the blind swordsman ”It looks like we will be leaving soon. But if the screaming is a sign of things to come, we may end up racing out of this city...”
The deep violet folds of the Lady Almah's luxurious silk jellabiya begin to ripple tempestuously as a sudden breeze disturbs thee previously near-frozen ripples of cloth.
For a brief moment, perhaps the span of a heart's beat, the entire company of those assembled on the observation platform maintains a funereal silence.
Then, the beleaguered mistress of House Vordon raises her strong, sure voice to address the new voice, simultaneously proceeding to the edge of the observation platform, where she will be in the full view of this strange Nalcaros, the Mouth of Faalcuun. Her voice becomes audible as Almah's body slightly emerges from beneath the shadow of the the elaborate cloth copula that shades the observation platform from the merciless rays of the crimson sun.
"Know, Nalcaros of Ebe, that I am the Lady Almah, of the clan of Ashtarte Athiratu of House Vordon of Tyr, and that I and my company are prepared to treat directly with you and your master. There are no hard words between us, nor need there be. We are not come to take aught from any hand. As a token of my trust and honor, I am dispatching my bard Slavathras of the Deadlands, and several others as may wish to accompany him to you and your master. They will hear his entreaty on my behalf, and return word to me of your master's desires."
She seems to scan the darkness cast by the partial orb of obsidian that hovers above Nalcaros, largely hiding his form from view, looking for some hint of his shape and nature.
"Will this suffice your master's desires?"
Almost immediately, a more controlled timbre than the last outburst replies,
"Both I and my master await eagerly your delegation."
The Lady Almah turns back from the rail, to the assembled,
"Who among you shall accompany Slavathras to the presence of Faalcuun?"
For a moment Malkaer wavered. He didn’t like the bard, and much of this stunk of defiler magic. But...when else could he see such sights? When else could he run across such lands? The unknown beckoned to him, and he could not resist.
”Corannuhuu Maiee ni’kom, Masarguu fae, Corannutaa. I, Malkaer Illuvinar, shall go.”
Rokan steps forward just enough to be visible to the Lady Almah. He briefly looks back and forth at Dalman and Misra for a hint of their intentions before speaking for himself.
"I shall go."
Tkk-tkk steps forward. "I volunteer my service to aid the group."
Memnon nods at Lady Almah and raises a hand in salute.
''I already said that I would take part in scouting party, this has not changed. I volunteer my services.''
Watching everyone he had gotten to know volunteer, Shizuka sighs before lifting a hand to the sky. "I may as well go along."
Ja'far shrugs his shoulders, continues to stare out into the desert vista.
"I've wandered these sands for years, even made trips into the Sea of Slit. I couldn't pass up an offer to see how the other fair under the crimson sun."
Watching everyone he had gotten to know volunteer, Shizuka sighs before lifting a hand to the sky. "I may as well go along."
The Lady Almah nods her head slowly in acknowledgment of the assembled company of volunteers. Her act of recognition slightly disturbs the elaborate golden fringe of her jellbiya's cowl, the latter dyed in the famous regional hue known as 'Tyrian purple', and causes its marshaled tassels to shudder slightly in the still air. The complex patchwork of shifting shadows cast by the movement of the fringe possesses a distinctly ominous cadence.
"My honorable wards, know that I entrust you gratefully to the observant and knowing care of my chosen bard, Slavathras of the Deadlands. Undoubtedly, he shall guide you aright in this your perilous undertaking to make parlay with the mysterious lord of the shadowed vessel which stands before us, and to preserve our precious expedition from peril. For this, never fear nor doubt, me and my house are assuredly grateful, and will amply reward in future times a many-fold repayment of the courage you display at this present moment."
The Lady Almah then gestures at the Tilacoan, a chief member of the small retinue of clerics of Elemental Water attached to House Vordon's expedition. Her fingers extend slightly, the golden finger guards that sheave her nails glistening in the muted rays of the sun that manage to intrude under the awning which covers the observation deck.
Tilacoan, a sturdy Tyrian native of smooth, peach-hued skin finely preserved by a reflective veneer of the emollients which predominate in so many of his cult's rituals, solemnly steps forward. His light blue tunic, secured by topaz broaches in the shape of the long-lost animals of the seas of the Green Age known as 'dolphins', ripples slightly, almost seeming in appearance like a gently disturbed pool. He raises his hand over his light red, close-cropped hair, and pronounces a benediction in the ancient Green Age tongue of Tyr.
"Ask for life, O valiant hero Aqhat:
Ask for life and I shall give it you,
Immortality and I shall bestow it on you …
Like Baal when he is revived, he is served,
When he is revived, one serves and gives him drink,
Chants and sings before him—
A Gracious Minstrel, who is his servant."
The prayer portrays those who receive the blessing as the hero Aqhat of Tyrian legend, and ancient hero was cherished by the forgotten gods of the city in the days before the sun turned a crimson hue.
Slavathras bows solemnly to his employer as Tilcoan concludes the benediction, and then turns to face the gathered party of the fellow travelers of the caravan, as well as Misra the lore mistress of the Rhul-Ty'ragi. The latter has already declared her firm intention to join the embassy to Faalcuun.
The voice of the bard assumes a less threatening tenor, one more, surprisingly, reassuring, as he directs the company,
"If you would be so good to follow, let us meet this strange new comer and his hidden master, and see for ourselves what drives their urgent inquest upon our expedition."
The company quickly proceeds through a series of slanting shafts within the cyclopean hull of Destiny's Chariot, entered through a pair of heavy trap doors in the floor of the palace's courtyard. Descending through at least half a dozen tiers of revolving ramps, the anticipation quickly builds, and makes it difficult to concentrate on the elaborate hieroglyphics that decorate the successive levels of declining corridors. The last circulation of the clockwise, rectangular pathway opens onto the desert floor at the base of the immense structure, the high archway set in the side of the palace providing a ready exit point to the ground upon which it moves.
The moving palace of House Vordon has come to a complete halt, the Iguanasaurs having been reigned in and now settling down to rest while the delegation proceeds with Falcuun and his emissaries.
From this vantage on the ground, the figure of Nalcaros comes into more ready perspective, though many of his features are still thoroughly occluded by a supernal shadow cast by the strange semi-orb of obsidian that hovers above his head. He appears to be about equal to a human in height, and somewhat slender. The complex outline of his form suggests that he is swathed in an elaborate mantle and headpiece.
In addition to the Mouth of Faalcuun, two previously unobserved companions are now visible -- what appear to be a fearsome pair of guard beasts. Indeed, a pair of gigantic, apparently undead centipedes coil threateningly by their master, twitching slightly at the arrival of House Vordon's emissaries.
The voice of Nalcaros rises again as the group comes into his view, this time carrying a slight tone of amusement,
"Oh. It's you I see. I suppose I should have expected as much Silan Tilak of the Obsidian Plane."
Slavathras inclines his head slightly, perhaps attempting to hide his facial expression from the rest of the party,
Nalcaros then evidently turns to regard the rest of the assembled dignitaries, though the details of his features are still obscured by the shadows of the mysterious object which levitates several feet above his head,
"Well met travelers, I assure you that you have made the right decision in descending to treat with me, and that my gracious master shall be most generous in repaying your assistance in the matter which he shall soon expound to your directly -- please, follow me."
Impossible to ignore, the air around the ruined city, which fills horizon to the west, begins to shudder with an unknown energy, and a faint humming arises on the wind.
Thousands of small black objects arise in an seemingly endless series of circular tiers that wind around the outside of ancient Kalidnay, spiraling up towards the heavens.
As the intimidating voice booms across the desert Rokan simply tries to remain inconspicuous. This is a time for listening, and watching, not inserting oneself too quickly or forcefully.
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As the intimidating voice booms across the desert Rokan simply tries to remain inconspicuous. This is a time for listening, and watching, not inserting oneself too quickly or forcefully.
[dice=perception, further non-psionic details about Nalcaros]1d20+10
[dice=knowledge (psionics), inspect Nalcaros]1d20+10[dice=sense motive, sense Slavathras' reaction]1d20+12
[dice=knowledge (psionics), inspect small black objects]1d20+10
perception, further non-psionic details about Nalcaros: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
knowledge (psionics), inspect Nalcaros: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
The orb which hovers over Nalcaros, casting a deep shadow, is extremely similar in appearance to the legendary Dark Lens, though it is hard to believe that it is the same object. Perhaps, however, a knowledge of this powerful item may give some hint as to the nature of Nalcaros' orb.
The Dark Lens
This lens is a polished obsidian egg-shaped orb about the size of a small kank weighing around 170 pounds. Its surface is flawless, and its blackness absolute, darker than the deepest obsidian. Through its glassy skin can be seen an occasional streak of scarlet, often vanishing one instant and reappearing again in a different location. The lens radiates intense heat upon its surface, a direct result of its incredible power...
History
The Dark Lens is an ancient artifact thought to have been created by Rajaat as the Time of Magic was coming to an end. The evil sorcerer fashioned the Dark Lens as a focus for his power, amplifying his magic and psionic energies to unheard of levels. By using the Dark Lens Rajaat created other powerful artifacts—such as Silencer, Scorcher, and Scourge. Rajaat used the Dark Lens to give his 15 Champions their incredible powers.
As the Cleansing Wars were ending and the champions discovered the true nature of their master’s schemes, the disciples of Rajaat took the Dark Lens and used its power to imprison their master in a place called the Hollow. Shortly after Rajaat was entombed, the Dark Lens was stolen by two dwarves named Jor’orsh and Sa’ram.
These dwarves were self-proclaimed protectors of Athas, taking the Dark Lens from the Pristine Tower to the Estuary of the Forked Tongue and secluding it on the isle of Mytilene. There they created a safeguard for the Dark Lens in the form of a crystal pit, which proved deadly to any who attempted to retrieve the artifact. Years later Jor’orsh and Sa’ram perished while defending the Dark Lens from evil giants. Soon after, they arose as banshee, and used their new powers to guard the Dark Lens from the eyes of the Dragon and the rest of Rajaat’s champions.
sense motive, sense Slavathras' reaction: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24
It seems as if Slavathras is trying to conceal his expression of familiar acknowledgment of Nalcaros. The two seem to have met before, but he does not necessarily want to share this information with the rest of the group. He is trying to be polite to the messenger of Faalcuun while at the same time hiding his reaction.
knowledge (psionics), inspect small black objects: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29
Arcane Orbs
Arcane orbs store arcane spells within especially prepared obsidian spheres. Arcane orbs include potion-globes, which work like potions, and spell-globes, which work like scrolls. To activate the spell, the user must crush the arcane orb in his fist. Arcane orbs are convenient for defilers, who can gain access to spell effects while appearing to not defile the land, and without needing to use voice or hands to cast spells.
The air is permeated by a somehow deep, sonorous, but simultaneously high-pitched whine, as if emanating from millions upon millions of disturbed and vengeful, but not angry, simply coldly resolved bees or other stinging insects.
On the horizon, towards the huddled ruins of the ancient city, the sky begins to... darken... as if in preparation for one of Athas' uncommon rain storms.
It can only be hoped that the kindly-intended benediction of Almah's water cleric Tilacoan has not unwittingly compelled a visitation from one of the torrential weather patterns that occasionally arise off the dust-laden surface of the Sea of Silt. That would only complicate the present endeavor, causing towering heights of the powdery dunes surrounding Kalidnay's ruins to dissolve into a treacherous morass of grasping mudslides.
The scores of tiny black orbs continue to rise in a seemingly endless ring of tiers around the ruins, extending from the low defile in which the remains of Kalid-Ma's once teeming metropolis now lie, up, far out of sight, into the darkening heavens. They move in a slow, deliberate dance, winding in a sort of macabre corkscrew motion that steadily lifts the emerging rows of black spheres further and further from vision.
There must be.... hundreds of thousands... millions even of the peculiar objects rising slowly from the ground to the heavens in their uncountable coruscating lines.
Nalcaros seems to regard the new motion around the city with some hesitancy, while at the same time a third member of his beastly entourage comes into view, having previously been concealed by the outline of the shadow which overcasts his still largely hidden form. The third monstrous, molting centipede begins to circle Nalcaros with its kindred, surrounding their master with a kind of eerie dance.
"That... is sooner than I had expected. Come, there is no time to delay, my master must convene with you at once."
Looking up at the sky Malkaer crowned. ”To think, we used to dream of enough rain to fill the silt sea. And now that we have it, it is more horrible than we had ever dreamed. I’m sure there is a lesson in there somewhere. Yes, let’s move before we are washed away.”