|
Cuthalian feels an eerie unnatural tremor when the idol topples over on the floor of the cave. It was as if someone's dark, extremely large and very evil and insane force turned its evil gaze on him for a moment. But then the feeling disappears. You destroy the idol so that no one can use it and is unlikely to be able to restore it (at least without magic). Perhaps you have a thought - the question - has there been less evil in this city?
Cirok patiently waits across the blood pond for his remaining company to emerge. The Rogue has odds on 4....
Cuthalian thanks Colgrim and then heads back across to where Cirok is. ”Shall we go now?”
Is there naught left to search?
The Rogue purposefully counts to two as he sees both Cuthalian and Terzarin emerge from across the blood pond.
Remind me to acquire a Wand of Prestidigitation. So, that sounded horrible.
What child? I just heard this horrid wailing and then blacked out.
Cirok shrugs.
Seems we accomplished our mission? Or is there perhaps more Derro about?
Let's get back then.
|
|
In painful silence, broken only by the already familiar buzzing, you move past three caves that have not yet been explored.
There are a lot of this scratches, and most of them have already been erased, but a couple are still possible to understand:
"Clavonna Misraria Ended Here” (in Drow)
“The snakes in the pit. They must be warned!” (in Undercommon)
“Droskar preserve us!” (in Dwarven).
Climbing up does not cause difficulties. And here you are again in the back streets of Ghenavoc. Dirty, as if covered in blood, and smelling of blood.
Cirok can't help himself at Cave 1 when he hears the sounds of snoring Derro.
Side trip!
The Rogue slides his dagger out as he Stealths that way.
|
|
Cirok will certainly Coup de grace the crazy, high Derro...
The Rogue returns after ransacking the room.
Who wants the next cave? Draw straws?
I'll take a look. Colgrim looks inside ro see what the critters look like before he goes full into the cave.
Terzarin tries Perception in Room 3 and waits just outside Room 1 to support Cirok.
|
|
After wiping the knife from the blood, Sirok joins his comrades.
Colgrim, little derro are crawling in the mud in a small pen. And here, too, there is an altar to Lamashtu, although it is quite small and very primitive. It stands on rocks and some kind of "tray" made of a shield clearly of dwarven workmanship.
Terzarin, search of the debris throughout the room uncovers a filthy silver bracelet , a masterwork stone flute, and, hidden beneath a tattered cloak, the hilt of a magical cold iron shortsword. The sword bears the emblem of a stylized warrior on its pommel and is thrust a foot into the rocky floor, where it is stuck fast.
Derro babies. Unless we can foist them off on other Derro, they are as good as dead since I doubt drow would want to take care if them.
Cirok holds up a finger, draws his trusty dagger and enters the cave quietly....
....a few minutes later he returns cleaning his trusty dagger.
No time for orphans, widows or wishing we weren't where we are. Dirty work but that is why we were chosen for this mission. Remember this is inside enemy territory.
Cirok does notice the hilt of a magical cold iron shortsword. The sword bears the emblem of a stylized warrior on its pommel stuck in the rock.
Colgrim shake this loose. I can make use of it if no one else can?
The Rogue shakes the Wizard.
Anything else magical that we can use?
Colgrim yanks on the hilt to get it loose.
Cirok looks directly at those surrounding him, as he replaces his dagger into its sheath.
You fellas may not like the dirty work, but someone is needed for it. It's not exactly my favorite part of this f*@%ing mission.
Climbing up does not cause difficulties. And here you are again in the back streets of Ghenavoc. Dirty, as if covered in blood, and smelling of blood. Where are you going now?
Drow eyes directly drawn to the initial Tavern that seems the most direct route to a drink, the Rogue swears!
F**~! I need a drink. And a f&##ing Wand of Prestidigitation!
A drink sounds fine! Going in covered in blood will show others we can just stroll around drinking after getting into a fight!
Colgrim has an odd thought process.
|
|
Drinking is definitely not a problem here, very, very many residents of this area pour their problems with very cheap wine, and sometimes other drinks, from which you can gradually go blind and deaf.
No one pays attention to your smell and appearance either. Perhaps it would be different in the upper city, but here... It can be worse.
Cirok tosses up his insides after a full night of drinking.
The Rogue keeps ranting about not having a Wand of Prestidigitation...
Terzarin is disgusted and disgusting, but doesn't probably succumb to the effects.
I agree with Cuth he says to no one in particular.
Urrrrrppp I'm all set to go.
All set here, let's go report back to the bastards. Colgrim will head out with the group.
Agreed. Do we roleplay that part or just roll into the next day?
"Oh, she died horribly, take my word for it. She got what she deserved and her blood joined the pool."
Cirok only grins at Xomos. The Rogue deftly takes out his Wand of Silent Image. He then winks.
I brought you the snuff film.
The Rogue then proceeds to conjure up a Silent Picture Film of the more entertaining episodes of their adventures.
Did you notice the precision previously presented playfully by Colgrim? Just there left center stage of Cuthalian.
Colgrim looks like a fist with hair stapled to it so he isn't convincing anyone.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Soryan provides excellent running commentary on Cirok's illusion, pointing out out the highlights and even bloopers such as Colgrim's amusing inability to resist a confusion spell that left him spewing bad poetry and also Cirok's thoughtful elimination of threats from vengeful offpsring.
|
|
The servants bring you a black magic wand with demonic symbols, spiders and cobwebs engraved on it. It is blessed by the Priestess of Mazmezz, as far as I know. Next, they bring you a beautiful elven-made blade... obviously from Kyonin. From the engraving, Cuthalian immediately realizes that it belonged to a noble officer. Trophy. The soldier who sold it was heavily addicted to cheap booze and heavy drugs. He told tall tales about a world without a roof, a blazing burning dick and other such things. He says that he struck down a light-skinned officer in a fair fight, but most likely hit him with a poisoned bolt when he went to take a s**t. Which is generally not bad either.
|
|
You are returning to the Vonnarc Estate. It makes no sense to repeat how full of cruelty and filth was another very long "day" without light in the drow world. There is no light in every sense, and the thought of a very long elven life, surrounded by this darkness every moment, presses on you as you drive through the beautiful and terrible streets of Zirnakaynin.
After washing up (and catching a couple of sidelong glances - for sure there will be conversations in the house ...), you go to bed. The night is hard. Soryan and Cuthalian both dream of the charred remains of a baby. It was a monster. But it was a baby... Probably one way or another it will be etched into the memory forever, especially in the memory of Soryan who committed this.
But a special night awaits Cirok. You wake up screaming twice. The first time, from a dream where you are slowly plunging a knife into sleepers over and over again... But now they are not sleeping derro, but your own comrades. The knife enters their necks with a slow sucking sound, and they look at you with wide eyes full of horror. Yet they are paralyzed, unable to move. And you try to stop, your consciousness like a prisoner in chains trying to give your body a command to stop, but it does not obey. In your sleep, you begin to mutter words, absolute nonsense, from pleading to threats. Even trying to distract yourself with stories, all to no avail. You wake everyone in the room with your muttering, but you continue sleeping. In your dream, after killing the last one, you walk up to the mirror with a cruel, crazy smile and slowly begin cutting your own throat. Here you finally wake up, screaming (seeing the worried faces of your friends who were trying to help you). You can't sleep for hours. Eventually, you manage to fall asleep, but it's only for a short time. In another dream, reality strikes you. You remember all the torture that Faidaeva Vonnarc subjected you to, and it's unbearable. You wake up again, and now you remember everything clearly. You can no longer sleep a wink tonight.
Morning comes unexpectedly. No one feels refreshed and refreshed. Soryan is slightly shivering, but it seems tolerable
It's time for another day full of hard and often unpleasant work...
|
|
Soryan is sent to the stalls to clean the lizards. Сirok is sent to cook a meal and informed that it is for someone of the nobility (evil smiles show you that it's better not to screw up). Colgrim, Terzarin and Cuthalian were sent by guards to different places, but for some reason Cuthalian was sent to the most boring place, where there is nothing to pay attention to and there is no way to express himself somehow.
Cirok stares at the ceiling, lying there wide awake and a bit f#+$ed up....
Purposefully getting up, getting dressed, getting ready for another shit day in this dark, dank, Drury, destitute denizen of devils, the fatigued rogue waits for the others.
This shit has nuts in it!
Cirok just stares at the kitchen with a bit of a display of inevitability....
The fatigued rogue manages to prepare a 6 course meal of...
.... slightly chopped mushrooms covered in a thick gravy like slop.
|
|
A gloomy and rather puny drow, but still somewhat frightening, looking like a wizard, stares with disgust at what Cirok has brought him as lunch. Give him the lashes. It seems from the look directed from under the hood that he is just waiting for an excuse to incinerate Cirok with some kind of magic instead of leaving retribution/pleasure on other servants.
Cirok is led to the usual place for whipping, but halfway there you and your guards hear Slavemother's shout. Bring him to me. I will personally punish him. You are taken to her chambers, you notice that the guards remain standing at the entrance.
She sits comfortably in an armchair and takes a glass of pleasantly spiced wine. With a nod, she invites you to sit down, but she doesn't offer you any drink.
So tell me, what did you expect when you confessed to killing those troglodytes? You didn't think you could get away with it. I'm a little surprised that you survived. You're tougher than you look.