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"Ayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The mojh shrieks in a decidedly valorous tenor upon its first experience of the 'chimera's' assault. His armored brows furrow somewhat as he lifts his hands in an elusive gesture of magical import. The winds rush in a deafening roar as an elder power of the heart of all air enters the skies of Athas...
"Clearly that's not what he meant.""What do you mean? He said he wanted help going down, I'm simply obliging, as is my nature.""Wisened one, perhaps you could use your magic to lower me down safely?" Johnny suggests as he looks over the edge, then backs up and prepares to make a running jump. "Huh? Clearly what's not?"
"Wisened one, perhaps you could use your magic to lower me down safely?" Johnny suggests as he looks over the edge, then backs up and prepares to make a running jump. "What do you mean? He said he wanted help going down, I'm simply obliging, as is my nature."
"Wisened one, perhaps you could use your magic to lower me down safely?" Johnny suggests as he looks over the edge, then backs up and prepares to make a running jump.
The mojh regards Johnny quizzically, cocking its strange reptilian profile, equal parts chameleon and iguana, to a slightly uncomfortable-seeming tilt, "Why, yes, Johnny, I would, myself, indeed, were I so to desire and acquiesce, since, as you must know, those two are not the same, but I am capable, and indeed willing, with regards to both..." "Anyway, yes, I could do that, but that is quite a far, far, far ways down, and I'm not sure what you're going to do down there that's going to be of any particular use to us in the present enterprise in which we are so earnestly engaged, alongside these new associates..." "Anyhoo, I'll bring you back up in a few minutes, and do be sure to tell me if you see anything interesting down there!" Johnny begins to lower precipitously into the volcanic pipe, far below the company's current horizon of vision.
Excuse me good and estimable sir, sirs, lady, or ladies, or personages if no such qualifications apply, but are any of you, of the aforementioned categories, able, and or willing, to operate the operate this redoubtable lift system I see described by the hieroglyphics on this control panel here[i]" T'lam, for no apparent reason, speaks as if others could see his gesture towards the presumably matching control station on his side of the chasm, one of a number of hints, alongside his increasingly more rambling manner of speech, that this character's social manners are quite a bit less refined than his recent attempts at communication might have otherwise suggested.I think this might be a good attack after our initial ranged assault. I don't believe it needs to be the first thing we do and I need to be careful to not slam it from so high that the platform breaks, rendering it useless to us after. "I think this hieroglyphic display indicates that there are quite a number of the platforms located at the bottom of the shaft, at least several dozen, so that should not be a decisive concern, nor am I certain my proposal would break said platform, as I believe these signs indicate that the alloy is of some incredible, otherworldly material that should be highly resistant to standard battery such as would occur under the plan of attack which yours truly furnished just a moment... Hastniss, why ever are you frowning so?"
"I suppose using the lift to slay them all seems prudent but if we kill them all then we shall know no more about this place then we do already. However, if the choice is life or death I choose life and the death of these creatures bent on summoning a horribly wretched creature into our world..." The, one can only assume self-appointed, reptilian spokesman for the group from the planet called "Serran" continues in what seems to be his ordinary rambling pattern of speech, seemingly without need for breath, "Oh dear, I fear greatly that you, yourself, have entirely misunderstand, in both a thorough and thorough-going, by which I mean both a semantically collective as well as experientially continuous and ongoing fashion, the proposal presently under consideration, my new proboscis-saddled interlocutor." Once again his tumult of speech appears to be interrupted by one of his nearby companions, "Why yes, Hastniss, I am, myself, presently coming to the main point, why do you ask? Anyway, my point is that I was only suggesting that Rokan squash the robed one -- they're not all going to fit under one platform anyway. We can stun or capture one of the others, and interrogate them for further information on these thoroughly exotic premises."
While Rokan is contemplating his next course of action to disrupt the sinister ceremony, the voice of the mysterious reptilian who seems to speak for the party currently situated on the opposite cliff enters into his mind, Excuse me good and estimable sir, sirs, lady, or ladies, or personages if no such qualifications apply, but are any of you, of the aforementioned categories, able, and or willing, to operate the operate this redoubtable lift system I see described by the hieroglyphics on this control panel here[i]" T'lam, for no apparent reason, speaks as if others could see his gesture towards the presumably matching control station on his side of the chasm, one of a number of hints, alongside his increasingly more rambling manner of speech, that this character's social manners are quite a bit less refined than his recent attempts at communication might have otherwise suggested. [i]"Lamentably, for both you and me, for us collectively, or presumably so unless I or you or we can divine some suitable alternative, I am unable to operate this conveyance with my own vested mystical powers and abilities, and though those two designations might appear, on the face, like synonyms, in point of fact I intend them as representatives of my active and passive capacities with arcane forces, and so you would be incorrect in the assumption of my verbal in-exactitude, which is always a likely assumption considering the great care with which I always select my words... this last assertion seems particularly false, as the creature seems to, somewhere in the midst of its rambling, relinquish and firm grasp on its original train of thought. Unheard, apparently one of its companions has prompted a return to the original mention of the psionic lift system that had originally engendered the Shadowbourne's comment. "Oh, yes Hastniss, indeed, but you needn't be so brusque about the whole business, I was returning to the matter of the the lift system presently after I had properly qualified my statement." "In any event, I believe it could be used as a powerful weapon if you simply directed it to crush this little band -- send it up high and then drop it on their heads like a meat tenderizer!" He then seems to return to some nearby companion, "My dear gourmand Johnny, do you agree with my description of this purported effect?"
"Oh my, that great red beast looks like the depictions of the dramojh, the cursed dragon-fiend servants of the ancient chromatic dragons that rebelled against their masters and enslaved the entire eastern territory of our continent. It seems as if whoever these creatures are must be meddling in similar devilry." "The dwarf said they're called 'fire-drakes' on your world, but I imagine they must refer to the same thing, but you're simply mistaken that they're purely elemental creatures. Clearly, there is a strong admixture of something infernal in this creature -- thus it is a kind of fiend-dragon like the ancient dramojh." "In any event, they are extremely dangerous, and we must find a way to prevent it being released. It looks like that company up there is going to sacrifice that poor sap to the dramojh, unless we do something quickly!" "I will confer with my companions on the matter, but I doubt not that they will agree with my assessment of the situation."
"But if you don't mind, I don't think you entirely answered my question, though you did resolve part of my uncertainty. So, based on what you have said we're still on Athas. Are we anywhere near a city called Kalidnay? That was where we last were, in a fortress on a peninsula jutting out into a dark lake. I'd like to know if we're still anywhere close to there, if you could give me some idea, gentle sir." "Oh, that's good to know -- so we're just outside the city, beyond that barrier created by the black spheres. We're not necessarily headed the opposite direction either, we just appeared here after escaping Elisena and her rangers, and we're currently on a journey in search of a path. Indeed, I have the sense from perusing some of the history of your world, as recorded by the High Templar Ahmun-Ahnpur in the archives of his fortress within the city ruins, that you share our high respect for the draconic race, and that we might well be of a common mind. I understood from the templar's records that this world worships dragons as gods, but was quite confused by the apparent assertion that many of these creatures assaulted the former queen of this city, who attempted only to evolve to a more perfect draconic state. Can you tell me more of this matter?" "There are, in our world, a race of creatures called the dramojh, a fusion of fiend and dragon created by the ancient chromatic wyrms, when the dragons of Serran were still divided by color and alloy. These horrible creatures turned on their creators and conquered the eastern territories of our continent, until they were later defeated by the aforementioned giants. Could Kalid-Ma perhaps have sought some power that would have transformed her into such a being?
"But if you don't mind, I don't think you entirely answered my question, though you did resolve part of my uncertainty. So, based on what you have said we're still on Athas. Are we anywhere near a city called Kalidnay? That was where we last were, in a fortress on a peninsula jutting out into a dark lake. I'd like to know if we're still anywhere close to there, if you could give me some idea, gentle sir."
"So, once again, what are our plans to deal with these two groups of creatures?" asks Johnny in a normal tone of voice. "My dearest chef, I don't see at all why you're presenting the question this way. I think the little collective across the rift seem quite friendly and undeserving of our potential violence towards them. Do you think otherwise? What is 'deal with' to you here?" "Now those creatures," he gestures with his talons at the procession of white skinned monstrosities and their captive on the northern cliff overlooking the yawning chasm, "seem much more dubious, and I have to agree with your insinuation of force in regards to their persons."
"Oh, bother, I do believe I am."
"We, the devoted servants of the Lord of Lords, the Great Erixalimar and His children who rule from the Castles in the Sky are currently unwelcome in the former domains of our lieges. The interloping giants have seized the western reaches of the dragons' rightful ancestral lands, and now oppose its inevitable reclamation." "One agent of De-Shamod, the giant capital to the west, is Elisena Lore, who has recruited an elite cadre of the giants' dog-like sibeccai allies and servants to train as rangers specifically intended to hunt the dragons and their servants." "We presume she will continue to seek demise, despite us having, for the moment escaped her grasp." It is then as if a carefully maintained-facade has fallen, and the creature returns to its normal manner of conversation, "Well, I don't know any of that yet Hastniss, how by the light of His Signs are we going to get any useful information if we don't talk to them? Yes, I suppose they might be in league with the giantess, but that doesn't seem overly likely to me, does it really to you? Why is he in such a bad mood anyway? I mean, I very well can imagine their might be some fine occasion to shoot something very soon, and then you can feel worthy of your title, monsieur grenadier de arquebus!"
Well hello there everyone, well met and well met! I am T'lam T'listillit of Pallembor, a humble and enterprising representative of the beneficent dragon lords of Pallembor. Myself and my small company are natives of an, I presume, quite distant planet which some call Serran." "We were unwillingly transported during our escape down the rapids of the River Rieardre, suddenly whisked away to a shadowy lake in the middle of a ruined city. "We had, until recently found ourselves, by dire necessity, ensconced in what we had presumed were the protective confines of the fortress of the High Templar Ahmun-Ahnpur, which is in an ancient city by the name of Kalidnay. Unfortunately, our pursuers, a particularly bothersome giantess and her sworn rangers, dispelled our apprehensions of any safe refuge in the Templar's former demesne." "The power of the Dragon God of Gods and Dragons, the mighty Erixalimar's holiest relic, transported us to, well it's not particularly clear this is safety, but here all the same!" "But now, you see, we have no idea where we are, and so would be eternally grateful for any orientation you might be able to provide." The mojh turns to regard the strange procession of pale-skinned creatures, what Kuro has dubbed the 'chimeras', "Hmmm... they don't look very friendly, do they?"
"Presumably, my trusty gourmand-attache, our erstwhile pursuers merely followed us through the strange portal that resulted in our arrival in this, I am increasingly beginning to believe, thoroughly dis-likeable planet. I'll admit (I always offer that much when yours truly was in error), that I hadn't anticipated their use of a zephyr, a species of craft I have had only reports of from other draconic spies. The balloon is driven by a bound air elemental of great power (did you know that? quite fascinating isn't it?). I guess they had it hidden on their ship they used to follow us here on the river (it was a big one, don't you remember, I guess it had more storage space (and with more storage!) than we, or more properly I, had fully realized at the time (we/I did have other concerns after all, such as escaping their immediate pursuit)." The mojh then glances across the precipitous chasm dividing his company from the other party located on the far side of the rift. "Oh, I wonder who they are," it looks at the sinister procession, "and who they are too" it's voice dropping in some kind of expression of concern. The Shadowbourne's visage lifts again as he returns his regard to the party directly facing them, "They do look friendlier." The mojh begins to wave dramatically, with an almost childlike enthusiasm, as it reaches out mentally to the strangers...
Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: The mojh hurriedly scrounges about in the pockets of his voluminous robes, and speedily produces the tenebrian seed. It holds aloft the draconic artifact in one hand, allow its dark surface to reflect the late afternoon light, "God Dragon of Gods and Dragons, I hope this works!" The entire party vanishes just as the missile from Esilena's craft careens into the observation chamber, causing the earth-shaking collapse of the spire's uppermost structure
Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: The mojh whirls quickly from appraising the vision of the strange vessel in the chamber's large windows, his motion so speedy it seems a wonder that he does not break his neck, "In principle, I am not opposed, noble companions, but we lack still a common stratagem to effect this reconnaissance... wait, oh no, she's caught up with us again!"
Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: The mojh beams beneficently as it answers the armor-clad litorian, its facial expression suggesting that it has just received an outstanding compliment, "Oh, indubitably my trusty knight!"
** spoiler omitted ** Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: "And not unlike, as well, the Castles in the Sky which predominate in distant Pallembor, the vast lands west of the Diamond Throne that are home to the dragons and their allies. Indeed, a great marvel for all to witness, and to which my trusty confidante and attache Hastniss can amply attest." The mojh then turns to regard the image visible from the observatory windows, it now being apparent that it has offered this commentary without so much as glancing at the object of these remarks. A more pensive mood seems to seize the Shadowbourne's angled features as it regards the curious vessel, "However... this isn't particularly what I was imagining in calling to mind the wonders of old Thartholan and the lands of the west. Indeed, the levitating relics of those civilizations were and are primarily keeps, and this looks very different from any example I can call to mind from the realm of the dragons." It purses its lips slightly, and squints its eyes, which seems in this case to indicate that the mojh is deep in thought. "I also don't think we can assume that the gate opens only on to our world, based on my researches in the archives of the high templar that built this keep. Indeed, I think what we might have on our hands here is something more like the phase heart, the ancient dramojh artifact by which these horrors summoned servants from diverse worlds to the ruins of Verdune and Thartholan. This vessel might well have issued forth from some locale far distant from either the Diamond Throne or this cursed planet."
** spoiler omitted ** Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: The mojh swerves again, its sudden motion so violent that it seems a wonder that the reptilian scholar's head is not dislodged from its now taut spine, "Oh, no no no, nonononononononono! You misunderstand entirely!. I wasn't necessarily suggesting we need to make her go back to sleep or anything like that (maybe we will, but that certainly hasn't been decided yet!). I'm just telling you what's going on, so you can know what I know, and we can all make a decision about what to do together, as a group, with one mind on the subject (and also, to avoid the potential to be at cross-odds, such as if I wanted to help her revenge herself, but you wanted to destroy all her seeds, or some such conflict (but you wouldn't want to do that if I wanted to do something else would you, since that would be terrible manners and I am the means you got here anyway and you're obviously not immune to the powers I can offer by means of this great artifact of the Lord of Lords, the Dragon God Himself which I have in my possession...)). Anyway... so she's definitely awake now, and now you know that like I know that (and Ahmun Ahnpur is also awake and he knows that she's awake too, since she woke him up (do you think he was happy about that?))."
** spoiler omitted ** Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: "Well, she's not in the city here, she's in the temple to be more specific, or rather the pylon in the temple, as well as the seed linked to the pylon (I mentioned that her consciousness transferred from the black sludge in the lake to the temple right?). You see, the black sludge is the nascent, inchoate form of the tenebrian seeds. The ancient writings refer to it as 'burned stone' or 'fire rock'. It can serve as a reservoir of mental energy, but it sits dormant, waiting for it to be awakened and shaped. Certain shapes -- triangles, spheres, rings -- focus this energy when the black sludge is reshaped into them, the arcane physics somehow awakening the largely latent potential of the sludge... So she was vaporized in the final battle with the other dragons, and her residual intelligence, which was fairly well diminished at that point, pooled in the ichor in the lake. Then someone woke it up sufficiently for it to slowly move through and underground network of tunnels to the temple, where it melded with a great pylon, which woke up all the tenebrian seeds." "This keep was the domain of one of her priests. They still performed her adorations for centuries after the sorcerer-queen's demise (such loyalty!). There seems to have been a residual caste that lived in the ruins and worshiped their fallen god (loyal like the mojh, who preserved the dragons' legacy in their absence). And something changed and now she's awake again, in the temple you see, and her priest's mind is linked to the another pylon that sits below this complex. And, you see, he's (his name is Ahmen-Ahnpur) the one who's in these walls. All rather remarkable, isn't it?"
** spoiler omitted ** Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: The mojh then seems to realize with a considerable delay that Utrim has addressed him, "Oh she, the dragon queen Kalid-Ma I mean (you understand), did I tell you she's in that black sludge in the lake (or was it a lake of black sludge?) that we sailed in on? Because that's also a fact, or rather that she was, at one point (but for a very long time you understand, so it's not like I'm lying or saying something untrue in telling you this, it was the case for a considerable period) in it, but then she seeped into her temple and woke up an exceptionally powerful tenebrian seed, as well as some of her priests -- well she activated a pylon that powers the seed, and that woke up some others that, in turn, turned the other seeds on, or something very close to that order of operations (but you get the basic picture, she was in the sludge, and now she's in the city). Anyway, that's also kind of interesting, and maybe relevant to our current predicament."
** spoiler omitted ** Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: The mojh hisses in an almost comical manner as it replies, "I was just getting to that, little blonde haired man of great appetites and apparently infinitesimal conviction." The Shadowbourne's raised scaled brow suggests it considered the last part quite an impressive, and sophisticated verbal barb, given that the descriptor 'infinitesimal conviction' could be understood as either positive or negative, depending on the perspective of the speaker. It had quickly become apparent to the present company that the mojh scholar known as T'lam T'lisillit spent a very large amount of its private hours imagining such turns of phrase, and had a large reservoir of such per-rehearsed retorts both ready at hand, as well as eager to find their way to its tongue. The mojh completely ignores the seized attention of Hastniss as it tries to completely savor its own cleverness in the moment.
Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: T'lam T'listillit whirls animatedly on the dracha, "Here, where? Huh?"
Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: The mojh seems scarcely to know where to turn as he surveys the observation deck with several erratic movements of his densely crenelated head. In the end, the Shadowbourne seems to find no resolution to this dilemma, and so sets upon the, apparently, most obvious solution of speaking to the ceiling, his throat exposed as the mojh leans upward in a bizarre affectation of a yogic kryia. "They worship dragons on this planet, I mean, there are a few dragons here, and they're in charge, at least right here, as far as I can tell." The mojh then seems to loose its train of thought and starts again, "But that's not the case in this city, I mean it was -- but a really long time ago, like dozen hundred years or more -- then it was, but it's not now because she's dead, or not dead really but sleeping, or something like that." "I don't really understand why, but the other dragons from around here, not exactly here you understand, not the city we're presently located in, but more generally, the area of the world in which this place used to be an important site -- sort of like Balatosh in Thartholan, you know, before dramojh destroyed it and established the phase heart to call in powers from other worlds in planes to their service... anyway, the other dragons from the other places not exactly here killed the dragon queen who ruled here, but why I don't know, because she seems to have been trying to evolve as the dragons on our world do, and how could they possibly have had any objection to that? Maybe they thought she was going to turn into a dramojh?" The scholar breaths heavily for a few moments, clearing the spittle from his slips, before continuing, "So that's probably not really totally correct, or it is if she was trying to become a dramojh, or they accidentally thought she might become one." Then its mind heads off in a new direction, "Anyway, there are a lot of tenebrian seeds in this city, like more than all of Pallembor, or at least as many as I've seen, maybe Hastniss has seen more since he lived there longer, and maybe that's not totally accurate either, but for different reasons than the distinction about why the other dragons didn't like the dragon queen of here -- I think here is called Kalidnay (did I mention that?), and she was called Kalid-Ma (did I mention that either?)" The mojh concludes for now by staring around wildly again, not sure where to focus, "What does everyone think of all that?"
Prisoners of the Scarab Hold: The dracha's overweening fulminations are ushered to an abrupt conclusion by the unexpected entrance of the mojh sage. While the Shadowbourne's visage is no less reptilian, it is far less belicose than that of the dracha, the mojh's deep green carapace evoking the same color as the fragrant and gentle water lilies which cluster in the ponds of ornamental gardens in the best houses of the west. "Oh hush Hastniss, you really need to rise above your irritation that our common draconic patron, the great Kilasidamas, attached you to my proposed expedition to share the benefits of Erixalimar's own seed with the pitiable inhabitants of the west long deprived of the dragon's blessings." The mojh seems to coo slightly as its draconic compatriot, "Really now, you know, and I know, you're just taking that frustration out on these pour souls, who aren't responsible, and, note you, neither am I, for the bothersome little predicament we seem to have found ourselves in for the present moment." T'lam T'listillit sets an undeniably noble chin, the chameleon or iguana-like horns that ornament its belly only highlighting the basic effect of the gesture, "In any event, I was quick to discern from your foul mood that you'd be tardy in gathering our new friends here, and so I resolved to follow if they hadn't returned in your wake within a predetermined interval -- one which, I doubt not that you've guessed, my good friend, you've now utterly exceeded" The mojh then turns to regard the collected company of fellow planes travelers, speaking with an either irresistibly compelling, or undeniably perturbing, enthusiasm, "And how are we faring, my new friends, are you prepared for new revelations regarding our present environs? These I can supply" The Shadowbourne then frowns as it seems to feel the intense heat siphoning in through the large windows of the observatory, "Great God of Dragons, it's positively sweltering in here! |
