The Torture Chamber (Everquest RPG PBP)

Game Master Xenh

Revery talks in iksar, to Sajeek. "You spoke of the same wizard who did something similar last time, right? Did we not still owe him for that service? Or did we pay him in knowledge? In any case, I was thinking, if we could save the elf's family heirloom and pay another way, I'm sure he'd appreciate having it back. Its value to him is much greater, I'm sure."

As they head toward the Academy of Arcane Science, Revery says to Fenris, in common, "Sorry, friend, but we tend to use that tongue between us. Even so, we shall not use proper nouns specifically, shall we, in case the wall indeed have ears. I was merely asking about the dervish's next move, which so far I like. Our city slicker here will let us know if we're in danger here, as we always are."

Grinning beneath his wraps, Sajeek nods.

"Yeah, we are all paid up for the first favor he did for us. Given the cost the first time, I'm hoping our gift will buy passage this time," the dervish robed vah shir shrugs, quietly speaking common. "It was the safest, and more importantly, the fastest route I could come with. But, if we can manage to return the gift that would be nice. Of course, I think he'll be okay if we only return his niece," Sajeek says with a quite chuckle.

Glancing at Fenris, the Beastlord nods at the druid.

"Sorry to get you all caught up in this," Sajeek says quietly to the druid as they follow Kwen through Freeport. "But, I'm glad you decided to follow Bast. You have already helped us out, and many thanks for that. I would rather you stay on with us, but I do understand if you don't want come with us for the next stage of our journey." Sajeek pauses. "I would be really happy if you did decide to keep traveling with us for a while longer." He adds, a smile showing in his emerald eyes.

Fenris, after a lifetime spent in the forest, only occasionally coming close enough to the cities to trade for goods and then quickly scamper back to the wilds, rubbernecks and gawks as he moves through the largest city atop Norrath. Once the sights have worn off he might be able to respond to the party.

Pravus Mortis, a group in near constant flux as of late, is observant, and it is these observation skills that help them to pick up the runners on the periphery marking their position. So many factions want the group dead that you are not sure which is tracking your movements, but it is sufficient to hurry thine steps.

An hour later finds you in a small room off with a bemused Calitri. The wizened old elf tents his fingers as he considers the request and awaits mention of the remuneration for the task.

You are confident that you have thrown off your pursuit enough that they know that you are in the Academy of Arcane Science, but not specifically where you went.

Time is not on your side.

The Academy of Arcane Science is the largest compound in the Gates and Markets District ((#3 on map). A hint as to its nature comes from the fact that it is a 5 story castle located on a floating island of rock. A large stone wall surrounds a secluded compound comprised of ponds, creeks, gardens, outbuildings and small amphitheaters. Powerful arcane spellcasters guard the 30' wide iron gate that serves as the entrance to this extensive campus. The guards stands ready to show new arrivals where to keep all of the mounts and supplies.

Having unwrapped his turban and face mask, Sajeek had relaxed a little bit. They had almost been running towards the end of the journey towards the mage's school. 'Academy of Arcane Science,' the vah shir reminds himself. He looks at Caliti blankly for a moment and then his brain reminds him of what the elder elf had just said.

"Oh! Sorry, it's been a crazy day," the Beastlord says with a chuckle. Bast had curled up near Sajeek's feet, snoozing contently.

Reaching into his pouch, Sajeek retrieves Alric ring. He holds it out to the old wizard.

Calitri is a self-professed "keeper of lore", and you discern enough of his shock to realize that he has a clue of its origin, especially since he is a high elf, "I am not in the market for stolen goods, though I do thank you for removing the finger before handing it over."

"No sir. Alric gave it to us," Sajeek looks at the old man's eyes. "We are tasked with going to Kurnak and saving his niece. It is in payment for him having saved our lives."

Sajeek nods to Calitri. He takes a moment to organize his thoughts.

"A lot has happened since we last talked," Sajeek pauses, licking his lips. He begins to tell the old magic user of what they had been up to over the last few years. Leaving out mention of the spirit and the bargin he had made with it. Pride creeps into his voice when he talks about the city of Justis that rose from the ashes of the deity cursed Manor.

Calitri's wrinkled maw hangs agape with the retelling, and more than once you get the impression that he is trying to work out if you are addled, or less likely that you are impossibly telling the truth. You are sure that he believes you and he stares at you for a long time afterward.

"Your mission is close to my people, I will hold this ring safekeeping and return it to Alric."

It is then that you realize that you were warned to avoid elves. Hopefully this elf would not betray you...

"I have studied the information you brought to me last time and have found it. I will take you via that route on one condition: you swear to never tell anyone what you told me. If this is not acceptable then I will speed you to the Dreadlands and you are free to tell whomever you wish."

" I agree to the terms." Kwen says, having no interest in reveling anything that the party had agreed would stay a secret. After all his time with his friends and he would like to get out of the city as quickly as possible.

Revery is confused. It would be impossible not to mention much of their last few years to anyone else. Calitri must mean something more specific.

"Specifically which parts would you have us keep quiet about? Because there's a lot in there that is part of our everyday lives."

Calitri clarifies, "I speak of the information brought to me the last time, and it is only that I place the restriction on."

"Ah, happily I misunderstood. Yes, I will agree to that if Sajeek does."

Revery watches Calitri carefully when he speaks, hoping he is earnest about all he says.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (13) + 15 = 28

Calitri's mannerisms, body language and speech quickly reveals to Revery that Calitri is lying about something that has been said to this point.

"Sure, as long as you kept the information about the chamber to yourself. I know of a certain spellcaster who is eager to wipe another race from the face of Norrath. And if he succeeds in one, there is no telling where he may stop." Sajeek's emerald eyes harden. "Seeing as there is a good chance this entire war has been manipulate by the Shissar, I have no interest in helping their goals. I will do everything I can to screw their plan up and give you surface dwellars enough time to realize that everyone on Norrath might be facing extinction or endless slavery." The vah shir pauses for several moments, calming himself down.

"The shissar will stop at nothing," he looks at the old man. "Ask any Vah shir who has come to Norrath if the Shissar still exist. You will get an answer that nobody wants to hear. They live."

Sajeek blinks and then looks down at the floor.

"Sorry, I got a little worked up," Sajeek pauses for a few moments. "Oh, as far as the ring goes, it's payment. I don't think he cares about getting it back. Just his niece."

Calitiri nods and you get the distinct impression that you provided the right answer. His next words cool your blood, "If it becomes apparent that you are sharing this information then you will be hunted down and the flame of your life extinguished."

With these words Revery discerns what the disconnect was in his words. If you had not agreed to keep the information private you doubt that you would have survived long in the Dreadlands, since the elderly high elf would have likely left you dead or for dead. It is not difficult to deduce the source of his worry, with the firepots you could invade Felwithe.

He continues and is almost immediately interrupted, "A word on our destination..."

Each of can hear the sound of armoured footfalls echoing on the floor beyond the door. Yells blend with shouted orders from beyond. They are searching for you specifically.

Holding his hand out he patiently waits, of course he does remaining cool under pressure is the only way a spellcaster can survive the years, for everyone to clasp hands, or in the cast of Bast to grab a scruff of fur, and then offers up the chant of teleportation.

It is a spell of his own design via spell research (autofail on spellcraft to identify the spell), which teleports the others to a place where no other spell can.

Like a wire attached to your bellybutton you feel yourself cruelly dragged through space and almost instantaneously you are at your destination.

You each stand in a voluminous chamber well over 200 feet wide and twice that in height. The ceiling tapers to an open hole, which magically holds back the crush of the Timorous Deep. 12 firepots stand in clock positions around the edge of the chamber. In the middle of the room is a magical green flame which rises over 40' from the stone floor. Staring into the flames is the ragged form of a skeleton.

The eyes of the skeleton are bleak and dreary as though the essence which keeps it standing is not really there, a surreal look into the future for those who make their stay in the immediate room around you. The ominous figure does not make any sound but nods in your direction as if to tell you that he died here long ago by resting by the nearby fire for too long. In your mind you hear the eerie thoughts of this undead figure, alluding to the fact that it is unwise for you to remain here for too long, lest the mighty water dragon overtake you, as it overtook this cursed traveler.

Standing in this place brings Revery and Sajeek back to the last time they were here. For them it is strange to not hear the clatter of chains as the party moves about, especially in a place of echoes like this place, but your shackles are buried back near the fallen rook.

Each of the pots is completely different, and gives a hint as to the city they connect with:

Firepots:

Sajeek nods to Calitri, agreeing with the magic user. The knowledge of this room should never be revealed.

"Well, now would be a good time for us to drink the potions," Sajeek says, barely speaking above a whisper. He nods to the skeleton once more. "I'll try one of the potions first. Just to make sure that they work correctly. If they don't, showing up in Cabilis as ourselves would be very, very bad for us." He adds with a faint grin. "Oh, Fenris, this potion will make us into Iskar for a tenday or so. We will look, sound and feel as Iskar do."

The vah shir looks around the room. It was such a interesting chamber. The magic that required for such a place were beyond his imagining. Something perhaps the god's were responsible. His eyes wander for a few moments, looking at the portal back to Luclin. Shaking his head to stop wool gathering, he looks back at the druid.

"This is a very large water dragon's lair. Or campsite. Whatever it is, as you can guess from the skeleton, this is not a good place to stick around," the vah shir glances around once more. He looked as if he was expecting the dragon to stick it's head out of a wall.

Once Rev handed him the potion, Sajeek looks at the potion for moment, looking at it like it was poison. Popping the top of the potion, he takes a sniff and looks at the liquid.

"Well, bottom's up," the vah shir drinks down the potion.

Immediately, you insides start writhing as though you had just thrown back a glass of live snakes. Falling to the floor in the foetal position the question on your mind is whether you will be sick. Then a burning sensation spread rapidly form you stomach to the very ends of your fingers and toes. Next, bringing yourself gasping to all fours, comes the horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over your body bubbles like hot wax, and before yours eyes, your hands begin to grow, fingers thickening, knuckles bulging like bolts, shoulders shifted painfully and a prickling on the top of your head speaks of something happening there that also causes all your hair to fall out.

Working hard to catch your breath you see your reflection in the horrified eyes of the others. You are an iksar (temporarily lose all racial bonuses and attribute bonuses, to gain +4 to STR, +2 to DEX, +2 to WIS, -4 to CHA, base speed 30', base swim speed 30', +8 to swim, may take 10 on a swim check, infravision, fire resistance 5, fast recovery, +3 to AC, vulnerable to cold attacks).

Shuddering as he looks at the piles of his fur, Sajeek looks over his new form. Raising his clawed hands to his face, he can see that his new scales were greenish-grey. The blood red marks still cut across the scales. Feeling the top of his head, he counted two honrs that angled backwards. A look at his right bicep revealed the white clawprint followed him.

"Oh, and Rev, we will need those chains I buried on the island. With the big skeletons," the now iskar says as he stands back up on shaky legs.

Hearing a low growl, Sajeek turns and looks at Bast. Kneeling down, Sajeek holds open his arms. After a few moments, the tiger pads forward and stares into the Beastlords emerald eyes. Sniffing the scales, Bast wiggles his nose, but seems to accept the change his spirit-brother had under gone.

Revery watches Sajeek undergo the transformation, satisfied that the plan was moving forward. He is concerned about whether he will be able to cast spells in the new form.

Hearing Sajeek mention the chains, he is confused, as he has been often this day. "What do you mean? We have no way back to the cold island. We need to go from here directly to Cabilis."

He starts to review everything he knows about iksar culture, much of it learned from Fropze. They would have a tough time navigating the streets and tunnels of Cabilis, he is sure of that. And what to do with Bast?

He hands out the iksar potions, and to avoid taking injury, sits before he drinks his own. He arranges everything to make sure it stays safe, especially the other potion and stone. Steeling himself to the apparent discomfort Sajeek just endured, he quaffs the small vial and clenches his teeth.

Everyone's transformation is as Sajeek experienced, with one small change: none of the others were acclimatized to the presence of a tail, and the long muscular tail of the iksar was a large pierce of kit to suddenly have attached to one's bottom.

Fenris spends a few moments chasing his tail. Though a possibly traumatic experience he is handling all the new information with great aplomb. Having considered what lay before him carefully he had agreed to join the group's quest to free the princess before downing the phial in a single pull.

You are each a powerfully build lizardman with sharp teeth, scaly hides, and horned heads. You fall in the same height ranges as humans do, but, though lithe, your musculature is dense, which makes you weigh more than 200 pounds. Body colouration tends to range through shades of gray, tan and light brown, with horns often taking a more reddish hue.

Luckily your equipment is equally shielded by the potion, having it appear as an iksar would wear it.

Words flow across your forked tongues with a sibilance that is foreign to your ear holes, but despite what seems to be an impairment spells easily flow across what would normally be your lips, and is nothing more than the armoured edge of your maw.

Perhaps a unintentional side effect, or fully intended, you feel mildly proud, conquest-focused, violent, self-assured and distrustful of others. It gives more of a perspective on the iksar mindset, but it is not strong enough to affect your relationships or opinions. What does affect your decisions is a hunger for live insects and other small creatures. You are an amphibian, as happy in the swampy hollows as on the land.

A dragon approaches, at least you imagine it bearing down on your as you speak, as you all stand around the tall gold vase making ready for the next move.

Kwen reeling from the effects of the potion, stands back up. Kwen perhaps due to his half human side, is able to quickly get used to his tail and his new frame. Quickly learning how to use his new tail to affect his balance, manages to keep his movements graceful, although with his new frame, he finds that his steps somehow don't feel right. Thinking quickly he lets his body adjust, trusting in it's judgement rather then remembered feelings.
He waits with the others, ready to touch the tall gold vase, as soon as everyone is ready. Kwen does his best to memorize the features of the other's and how they carry themselves, having a feeling that he might be separated from them perhaps an occasion with the vial that would summon the dragons.

Fenris was not in the room when the phial of poison was discussed, but this is the time to quickly discuss it.

Were you planning on committing genocide?

Revery rolls around in discomfort for a while, and then recovers, testing out his new body. He feels so strong! And powerful! So this is what it is like to be an iksar!

Realizing time is of the essence, he mentions the poison. "Instead of using the weapon we were given, why don't we just leave it behind? They'll have their brightest figure out what it is and realize that we didn't use it. I would think it ought to cause them to seek peaceful solutions."

He looks at the others to gauge their reactions.

Bast trusts Sajeek enough to down the phial and his transformation is perhaps the most traumatic. Not knowing what is happening causes him to run about, whine and bite at his own flesh. Moments later a tall scaled wolf stands in the place where once stood a Kejek tiger. Being a member of one of the cat's mortal enemies does not amuse the warder.

Scaled wolves are ferocious and solitary creatures found in Kunark's deserts. They resemble wolves in basic body shape, but are actually reptilian creatures with tough, scaly hides, long fangs and claws, and a ridge of spines running down their backs. Scaled wolves are generally greenish in colour, with yellow or white spines and horns. Bast is 6 feet from nose to tail tip and weighs close to 350 pound.

It takes a moment but Bast finally bumps against Sajeek's leg, forgiving him for this embarrassing experience.

Your disguises are perfect, though only beastlord is a vocation the iksar undertake, so any class-specific spells will be very dangerous.

"I'm sorry buddy," Sajeek kneels down and hugs Bast. "You look sharp, the ladies will love you." The turned beastlord chuckles. Standing back up he looks at the others and nods.

"Give me the vial of poison. I will dump it out right here, and then we will leave. We don't have the time to wait here that long," Sajeek looks at the others. "For one, I don't want to kill an entire race of people. Second, the Faceless would not forgive such a thing. He punished us before for destroying one of his altars. That would be a warning compared to killing his chosen children." Sajeek shudders at the thought of returning to the Plane of Fear.

"What about leaving in Cabilis, as a warning? Or are you concerned they'll figure it out and create something similar for Felwithe?" asks Revery to Sajeek.

An immense dark shape is glimpsed for a fleeting second in the water above your heads. The skeleton backs away from the party.

Faydedar is closing on your position.

(please include a single action before individual initiative is rolled)

"Ooh, no time to discuss. We go now!" says Revery rushing over to the tall gold vase, his hand over it. He will wait to see the others coming too; as soon as they do, he plans to touch it.

"No, I don't want to leave any trace of the poison for anybody to attempt to make another....," the Beastlord had been saying to Rev. Sajeek trails off as the sight of the massive shape moving through the water. The clicking steps of the skeleton moving away made him shudder. If Rev had handed him the vial, he tosses it over his shoulder to shatter on the ground.

Darting towards the tall gold vase, followed by Bast, the turned vah shir touches it and Bast at the same time.

Kwen grabs the tall gold vase, not able to prevent the shattering of the poison vial. The rogue had been willing to hold onto it, more then likely he would never had used the vial, but holding onto it was all that the rogue was going to do. That chance is now over

Deep in the centre of the continent of Kunark is the heart of the iksar empire; the fortified city of Cabilis, and all that you know is owed to Fropze extensive recounting of his continent and people.

There are four areas immediately surrounding the city that are of intense interest to the iksar:

1. Field of Bone - a barren area that contains the ancient remains of Kurn's Tower and Kaesora. The iksar have focused many of their broodlings in this area in order to tame it.

2. The Swamp of No Hope - an area that the iksar currently are letting run wild, despite, maintaining a small outpost to protect their walls.

3. Warsliks Wood - as the iksar have met much resistance from both the goblins and the forest giants within during their attempts to control the area. There is also a strong outcast presence there.

4. The Lake of Ill Omen - another area that the iksar are very focused on regaining control over. A new enemy, the sarnak, have established a fortress within this region and are expanding their range slowly, coming into conflict with the residents of Cabilis and also the goblins of the region.

To the south of the city lies Firiona Vie, the forest that held the elven outpost named after their kidnapped princess. This is an area of intense interest, as the softskins have foolishly declared war against your people.

Cabilis is divided into two segments:

Revery touches the gold vase and expects the worst. What he finds is he is underwater, and the others appear presently, underwater too. He finds it amazing the grace with which he can swim. The power in his arms, legs and tail (tail!) propel him quickly to the shore.

He remains mostly under the surface and tries to be quiet. He looks around to see if he can remember, no, see, where the city is from here. Also, for guards or sentries, or any other living creature.

Floating in the depths of the canal made thousands of years ago, Sajeek feels the slight tug of the current over his scales. The heat of his scaled wolf and the other of his adopted brood light the water with the heat of their bodies. With a snap of his tail, the iskar surges through the water, still staying deep. Faint thoughts that didn't fit in his mind washed away like water over his greenish-grey scales.

Surfacing with barely a ripple, the iskar's emerald green eyes move about, seeking.... something. The thoughts of the weak softskins, particular the elves that dared to invade his homeland come to the surface. Treading water, a hint of something white catches his eyes. Glancing at his right bicep, the iskar's eyes widen as he spies the white clawprint gripping his arm tightly.

With a flash, the powerful magics that have given him this form and memories seem to shift in his mind. Sajeek fully remembers himself. A proud, feral vah shir, born on Luclin. He had come to Norrath to find his foster parents. The Beastlord had found so much more then just his parents. Touching the ghost marking, the turned vah shir treads water easily in his borrowed form. He remembers well what he promised Alric. They would save his niece. Or, at the very least, find her body and pray like crazy that Noggy could raise her.

Nodding to the others, Sajeek gracefully makes his way towards the ladder a short distance away. He feels the currents shift slightly, a moment before Bast bumps into his side. The tiger took to his new form as gracefully. Looking at his spirit-brothers mis matched green and gold eyes, Sajeek could see that Bast remembered himself.

The timeline of your people has been recounted again and again, using
the oral tradition of your peoples, so that you never forget where you came from...

The Age of Monuments

Cazic-Thule, Lord of Fear, was drawn to the swamps and jungles
of Norrath and there created the green-skinned Trolls and the reptilian Iksar of Kunark.

Before The "Green"

This is known as the Age of the Snake. The snake race known as Shissar,
slithered upon Kunark. The Iksar had yet to unite. Our people had yet to learn
the Black Arts and the ways of Fist and Tail.
Divided, the Iksar were enslaved by the snakes. In the centuries before the
Green, the Iksar were slaves of the Shissar. They ruled from the ancient city of
Chelsith which rest deep within the land now known as The Overthere.

Eventually, the Shissir angered even their own gods. A horrible plague destroyed
every Shissar; however, the Iksar survived unscathed.

The god-summoned green mist rushed forth. The first snakes to be swallowed by
the mist had their scales and flesh rot and fall from their bones. Horrid
screams of suffering could be heard from within the mist. A river of flesh and
blood flowed. The Iksar stood and gazed upon the gristle that was once the
Shissar. With the Green Death came the liberation of the Iksar.

0 A.G ("After Green")

Over the next several centuries, the Iksar grew to greatness on the buried ashes
of their former masters. They migrated outward across the continent of Kunark
and formed five principal tribe-states:

Everything in you screams to not look up with more than a fleeting glance. You are a broodling and do not have the caste status to look a trooper from the Legion of Cabilis (warrior), Crusader of Greenmist (shadowknight), Brood of Kotiz (necromancers), The Scaled Mystics (shamans), Scaled Spiritists (beastlords), or The Swifttails (monks). in the eye. To do so would be instant death.

In the coming of age ceremony your leg will be subjected to scarficiation. The scar would be magical in nature and part of the coming of age ceremony where you would stop being referred to as a "broodling", "hatchling", or any of the other names that demonstrated how much support you required to continue to draw breath in this hard society. How one earned such scars was unknown to you, since Fropze never achieved it, but it is an important step in your maturation, since it would mean that you could look other iksar in the eyes, and have broodlings avoid your gaze for fear of whatever reprisal you could dream up.

Froglok slaves walk about above your heads, toiling for their iksar masters.

You feel a pull to go south and then east, lest you have to lift Bast up a ladder. Looking that way you see a black spot, which you realize to be a ramp out of the water.

Realizing that the granted forms were laced with powerful magic, Sajeek quickly drops his eyes. Even in the water a raised gaze could spell out death. The transform vah shir "knew" that he was still a broodling, yet to undergo the adulthood ceremonies. He lets what the knowledge that came laced with the potion roil over his mind.

Sajeek rolls over their situation in his mind. They had to find out where the princess was being held. He would rather think of need to rescue her, rather then find a months old corpse. Then, they had to get wherever that was with there low status. Something that might work in their favor, the lower cast were mostly invisible. On the plus side, once they found her, they did have a short range teleport to available to get them all out of the city. Then, all they had to do was make out of the Kurnak wilderness.

And finally, they had to get Bast up the the ladder.

Kwen was annoyed with Sajeek slightly, on one hand he felt that the Val'Shir was correct in his assessment in with throwing away the vial, but at the moment it felt like a good idea to have it.
Pushing off the feeling that the rogue was missing something important he keeps up the facade that he was now an Iksar for at least for a tenday.

Kwen averted his eyes, drawing on the knowledge that the potion had instilled in his core. Still being an Iksar brought a sense of disgust to the rogue, he had played many roles, taken on many new persona's in his travels. This new way of change who one was, bothered the rogue in a way that if had time to truly dwell on it, the answers would be fall into place.
Keeping the knowledge wasn't too difficult, feeling the pull of now three different things was the problem. As a half-elf, Kwen had always felt the pull of his elf nature, along with his human side of things, which had brought on his rashness, and the impulses. Now having to deal with the memories, the experiences, and the thought process of the Iksar race, that was new.

With a slight shake of his scaled and horned head, Sajeek nods towards the ramp leading out of the water. 'That will teach me to second guess my new eyes,' the transformed Beastlord chuckles in the water. With a few strokes of his powerful tail, he changes direction and heads to the ramp. As he seems, he once again falls into the borrowed knowledge and history of his adopted race. He wonders if the knowledge would bleed away after the tenday, like the form of an iskar itself.

Closing the disance between himself and Rev, he knows the enchanter will feel the change in the water before he needs to greet him.

"I was thinking that if you get the chance, you should transcribe the knowledge we have gained," Sajeek says in iskar. He speaks just loud enough for Rev to hear. And he others, depending on their placement. "Just in case it doesn't stick around for that long."

Keeping his gaze low, Sajeek glances about for Fenris, not wanting to lose the druid. While he didn't doubt the elf could survive on his own, his concern lying in Fenris loosing himself in the memories of the iskar and wandering off on his own. Which wouldn't end well after about the tenday was up.

Thinking for a moment, the transformed vah shir, slips under the water, easily holding his breath. Sinking a few feet, Sajeek strips off most of his dervish robe, leaving on the strips he uses to hold a few weapons, and a basic loincloth. Even then, he knew he was a little overdressed, but not enough to warrant extra attention.

When he gets to the ramp, Sajeek keeps his gaze low, glancing about to make sure that their wasn't a bunch of his adopted brethren around. Quickly he wrings out the strips of linen and after retrieving an empty sack, stuffs them in. After tying the sack closed, Sajeek ties it to the bottom of his pack.

Glancing to see where his friends where, the shaped vah shir tries to figure out where they should start looking for the princess. Thanks to the granted memories, he had a few ideas, which was much better then what he had before drinking the noxious potion. Still, Sajeek had dragged the others into this faster then they really had time to think about it.

'I seem to have a knack for getting us into trouble,' Sajeek thinks with a slight grin upon his scaled maw. He feels Bast's scales bump against his own as the "scaled wolf" finally decides to leave the water. Looking at his spirit-brother Sajeek was very impressed with the fearsome looking lizard. It certainly wasn't something he would want to get into a fight with.

Revery wonders if it might be best to stay in the water, but then realizes they would not be able to search for the princess this way. No, perhaps getting out of the water and searching would be best. At very least, they could ask other broodlings questions.

Sajeek's suggestion to record this knowledge is a good one, and he agrees, saying, "Right, if we get the chance I will do so. We may need to find a hiding place unless we can find our subject quickly, and if we do, there may be an opportunity to write. I would also like to review my spells if given the chance."

He follows Sajeek and Bast to the ramp, and glances around, making sure not to meet anyone's gaze. Finding the princess is a unique problem, but perhaps she is a well known prisoner in this place, during this war.

" Sounds like a good plan." Kwen whispers, pulling himself out of the water, noticing that his clothing would make him stand out the rogue starts packing things away into his backpack, knowing that his armor might make him stand out a bit, considers removing it and shoving it into his bag. Dismissing that thought as the Silk armor was now wet, he resolves to keep it on until it dries. Wondering how in the hell the group was going to survive out here for the next few days.

"Make sure to dump out the vial. We don't want it around. I don't even want to be tempted to use it. I think if we have on us, there is a chance we might us it." Sajeek whispers to the others as the get up to the ramp. "Wiping out an entire race.., it's a bit much I think, despite the war going on."

Revery pulls out the vial and hands it to Sajeek. "I have no problem with dumping it."

" Alright I agree." Kwen says, now realizing where the anger had been coming from, being turned into an Iksar, had been slightly warping the Hal-elf's thinking.

Slipping a few feet back into the water, Sajeek gets at least shoulder deep. Submerging, he twist the caps off and empties the contents to be diluted harmlessly (so he hopes) in the water.

It is an odd feeling that washes over him. They had just saved the iskar people from extinction. They would never know how close they had come to being whiped off the face of Norrath. A people that would cheerfully kill him for setting foot on their homeland. Thanks to the magics, he certainly understood the mindset of the reptile people and their harsh lands. After thinking about for few more seconds, Sajeek realizes it was probably better that they don't know. Otherwise, they would be after the High Elves with a vengeance.

Sajeek breaks the vial, letting it wash away with the sluggish current. He didn't want any part of the potion to be recovered. And possibly duplicated. The transformed vah shir was chilled to the core that Alric had even made such a thing.

However, if the Shissar were invading, a preemptive strike against their old slaves made sense. Their god had been the one responsible for the Greenmist in the first place.

Rising, Sajeek joins the others on the ramp, nodding to them. He was glad to be rid of such a foul potion. The Beastlord was happier to not even have the option of annihilation. If anything, it forces them to think on their toes. And Sajeek thinks that when they get some of their best work done. Last second desperation was a powerful incentive.

Meanwhile, over in a sinking filthy set of cells, three bloody and battered figures enjoy frequent beatings and being chained to the walls.

(please describe your second character in your next post)

Having used the ramp you watch rivulets of fetid swamp water crawl down hard scales, perfectly taught muscular of bodies perfectly suited to this oppressively-humid environment.

You stand in what was once one of the most impressive cities on the surface of Norrath; now just a shadow of its former glory. A klok (merchant) sells raw food, charging extra for those infested with maggots, south of your position. While normally disgusting to the sensibilities of any other race, in this form your slitted nostrils drink in the sumptuous aromas, and you feel saliva pool across your forked tongue seeking gaps between your sharp teeth.

A ruins is located to the north of your position. Hunkering down you could have some privacy as long no Trooper (warrior) or Crusader (shadowknight) gets too nosey.

Froglok slaves, each with one foot having been cut off, assail your ears with their desperate FROAKK calls, and the jarring sound of their chains striking the moss-slick stones, as they occasionally run by on whatever task they were assigned.

One thing you notice and feel inside you, is that iksar are never idle, so you need to keep moving while you are subject to the scrutiny of your fellow lizardmen.

Kspress is disappointed in himself. He had let his anger get the best of him, and now he is in chains.

It had been a long haul, an impossible task that turned into an adventure of sorts.

He and Velkuriss, and many others, broodlings from different castes, were forced to work together to perform other seemingly impossible tasks. Kspress had been born into the Red Order of the Swifftails, and raised as one every day of his life. It had been nothing but training, all day, every day, until the call came to attend to his first task.

Kspress and Velkuriss, previously unknown to each other, soon formed a mutual respect based upon each other's determination, strength, loyalty and resourcefulness. They had performed admirably, despite the presence of a traitorous Tier'Dal in their group. In fact, they had done the impossible, that which had never been done, by broodling or other. In the Field of Bone they had first performed several difficult tasks, and had been the only team successful at it. Then they had found the buried treasures: the bones of the ancient dragon Jaled'Dar, and near them the long lost bones of the last emperor, Ganak Sathir.

Overlord Velkin had given the two of them, Velkuriss and Kspress, special treatment and a unique assignment. This one seemed truly impossible - retrieve the heart of a dead emperor. Emperor Rile Sathir was long dead, but supposedly his heart still beat in his submerged body, buried by salt water and who knows what just outside the enemy city of Fironia Vie.

They had first had to traverse the Swamp of No Hope, in habited by the hated Frogloks. They had traveled safely for a while, but at one point they were nearly killed by suffocation, trying to hide from a large group of them. A strange Iksar ghost saved them, and they never discovered how or why.

Next they had entered the forested lands. In that strange place, and shortly after, they had had the opportunity to meet several individuals of the softskin races, including Gnomes, Halflings, Tier'Dal, and even one of mixed Human and Elf blood. The forest had presented its own deadly challenges, especially giants, but they had had help from some of these others, these softskins.

On the other side of that forest stood Fironia Vie. The great Elven city sat as if floating upon the water, but Kspress and Velkuriss had business below. Though they were 'assisted' by another Tier'Dal, another one they did not trust fully, they were able to recover their quest's goal: Rile Sathir's beating heart.

After that, Kspress was preoccupied with getting that so important living relic back to Cabilis, and now he remembers little of those trials. The most important part was at the end, when he and Velkuriss presented their gift to Overlord Velkin.

He is sure now, as he was then, that his own political naivete and general inexperience failed to warn him of the dangers. But now, he assume even that would not have mattered. They would have had to do the same thing, even knowing their fate. For what else could they have done? Run away? Negotiated, like some halfing child trying to get more sweets? No, there was little or nothing else. Their fate was sealed.

And now, here they are, in prison, in shackles, no less. Kspress still holds loyalty to his people, but not to his leaders. These latter are entrenched in politics and their power games, and do not do what is best for the Iksar empire. And that makes them, at the very least in Kspress' view, incompetent to maintain their posts, and, quite probably, traitors. In any case they need to be removed from power and replaced with better leaders. If such beings could be found.

Kspress is frustrated because he is unsure if that is possible.

"We know nothing of this city, so I suggest we walk around with apparent purpose and learn its layout. In doing so, we may gain an inkling of where our target may be," whispers Revery to the others. "I can think of no other plan, for asking for directions seems to be a bad idea. But if others have ideas...."

" Maybe if I had been here before, I would have an idea, but this is a completely new situation, stay moving and not drawing attention to ourselves might be the best idea at the moment." Kwen whispers.

"Let's head to those ruins over there. At least to get out of sight while we plan on what we are going to do," Sajeek says quietly glancing around quickly. "Standing idle doesn't look like a good idea. Especially since we are pretty much nobodies without that scar."

Glancing to make sure they weren't gathering undue amounts of attention, Sajeek and Bast make their way to the ruins.