Rethilon's Story, Part 2

It took my mother, Shar’drissar Kulducet, several months to fully recuperate from her injuries. Without any legitimate clerics to tend to her, her broken fingers were the most difficult problem. Each had been broken in several places and once the swelling in each digit lessened, it had to be re-broken and then set properly. The pain caused by the procedure was anguishing, but, it was necessary to ensure that she would have the use of her hands restored to her. My father took it upon himself to administer to her, a fact that made her brood all the more. No self-respecting githyanki would ever dream of letting a githzerai aid her. Of course, Shar’drissar believed whole-heartedly that her attendant reveled in the pain he caused her. My mother taunted Zilkomer, hoping that she could coax him into killing her, thus putting an end to both her indignity and her suffering. To hear Bushi tell the tale, I am not certain of which was the greater test of my father’s discipline: his torture at the hands of the illithids, or my mother’s constant verbal abuse. Oh, and it did not stop with verbal abuse, either. On a few occasions, Shar’drissar physically attacked Zilkomer, even once drawing blood by biting off the top of his ear. After that attack, my father knew that Shar’drissar was healthy enough to move about, and so he put her to work.

Since he wanted to keep Shar’drissar’s continued existence from the illithids, Zilkomer assigned her to work with the dwarves in the fungi fields. She was tasked with planting and harvesting duties; a chore which aggravated her because it was something she deemed to be far beneath her station. Realizing though, that her options were limited, she decided to make the best of it, while biding her time and hoping for an opportunity to escape. It was during this time that she had the occasion to hear my father speak to the members of his growing faction. She listened, while he outlined the laws to which he and the other allied clan leaders had agreed to put in place. She looked upon the faces of the githzerai, deep dwarves, rock gnomes and others, who viewed Zilkomer with obvious admiration. Slowly, the ideas expressed by this upstart githzerai started to make sense, until one day, she was surprised to realize that not only had she grown to admire him, but, she anxiously awaited the next time that he would address the clan.

As I said, within a few years, the alliances made between the clans grew. The slave society was able to sustain itself. The clans were getting restless, though. My father had now been the mind flayers’ prisoner for twelve years. The time was coming when the slaves would revolt. They could not hope to do so without weapons and without training. Again, Zilkomer turned to the dwarves and gnomes for help. A few of them were craftsmen, While they did not have quality tools at their disposal, they were able to manufacture a crude forge, Metal was even harder to come by. Many of the weapons they created were made of stone. There were small deposits of copper and tin in some of the caverns, which allowed them to smelt bronze, which they in turn, used to craft swords and axes. The troglodyte clan preferred basalt, and took it upon themselves to make crude spears and axes. In time, the clans started to outfit themselves with weapons and those who had lived as warriors before their captivity, began to train their fellow clan members.

It was at this time, that Shar’drissar surprised Zilkomer with an offer to train the githzerai and the other members of the prison clan. She had the background of a fighter and knew how to use a sword, quite well. In truth, while she had every intention of following through with her offer, Shar’drissar was hoping that training sword fighters would also put her in closer proximity to Zilkomer. She had, by this time, become somewhat infatuated with him, Zilkomer wanted to see her in action first, and he made her prove her battle prowess, by entering into an exhibition fight with one of the dwarven warriors. If she won the match, Zilkomer would allow her to train the clan’s units. Zilkomer did not think the githyanki woman stood a chance, but, she proved her worth and bested the dwarven warrior.

Much to her satisfaction, Shar’drissar’s training did indeed have the desired effect, as she found herself in Zilkomer’s company, quite often. The two learned to respect each another, and, despite the differences in their backgrounds, they drew close. My father seemed to have a calming effect on my mother, and, it wasn’t long before they began sharing the same piece of cavern floor when they slept. Shortly thereafter, my mother began showing a bulge in her stomach, and soon, the members of the prison clan knew that a child was on the way. My father was insistent that his child would not be born into bondage. His plans took on a greater sense of urgency, and he pushed the other clan leaders into speeding up the time tables for the prison revolt.

Most of the slaves were eager to go. The biggest challenge they faced was figuring out how to move thousands of prisoners and stage them within the illithid’s stronghold, without being detected. It was imperative that all of the units be in position to attack en masse at the same time in order to overwhelm the mind flayers. There was only one way up or down, and, that was by what the illithids referred to as the cattle car. The cattle car worked on a system of pulleys, which could raise or lower the car the several hundred feet between the illithid’s level and the slave pens below. The car could hold as many as 50 slaves at a time. Usually, the car was raised and lowered six times at the start of a twelve hour shift. It took about thirty minutes to raise the car to the top, with the heavy lifting being performed by slaves on that level. The pulleys made a lot of noise. They key would be silencing the pulleys, and sending full cattle carts up at least 20 times within a 12 hour shift. That would give the rebels the ability to stage about 1300 slaves, and to continue bringing up more after the initial fighting began.

The troglodytes provided the solution to the lubricant that was needed to silence the pulleys. Their bodies secreted a natural slime, which coated their bodies and prevented their skin from drying out. As anyone who has ever been around a troglodyte knows, though, the stench from this secretion can have a nauseating effect. To counter this smell, the deep dwarves supplied a concoction of fermented and dried mushrooms, which, when mixed with the troglodyte slime, completely removed the stench.

Within a few months, real progress was made. The processed slime was stored in vats that had been made from cured animal hides. The dwarves also filled the stomachs of dead animals with the slime and fashioned slime bombs, out of them. Zilkomer was fascinated by the ingenuity of the dwarf.

The final plan was ready. In one week’s time, the slaves would launch their rebellion and either escape, or fail and die trying. In either case, they would be free from the misery inflicted upon them. At this point, I guess I decided that I did not want to sit it out. My mother went into labor and I was born about twenty hours later. My mother wanted to delay the attack for at least two months, and she asked my father to consider it. He knew, though that the other clans would never go for it. They were growing impatient, and now was the time.

The night of their assault finally arrived, and, as the third shift began, the cattle car was busy making extra, yet quiet runs. Hundreds of slaves, with weapons in hand made it to the top and positioned themselves for the attack. My father was one of the first to go, making sure that everyone stuck to the plan. While he made the rounds, he stopped to check on the drow faction. It was then that he learned of the drow’s treachery. The leader of the drow clan; the very first ally that Zilkomer had made, those few years ago, had left his unit and was on the move. He headed towards an illithid guard post and walked right in. My father followed him in the shadows and got close enough to hear the drow conversing with the mind flayers there. The drow clan leader had struck a deal with the illithids. In exchange for her freedom and that of her drow compatriots, she had betrayed the slaves. The mind flayers were in the process of taking up positions to ambush the slaves. They would not begin the killing until the drow all received safe passage out.

Confident in her treachery, the drow leader left the outpost and headed back to get the rest of her kinsfolk. She did not suspect in any way that she was being shadowed. Turning a corner, out of sight from the guard post, she almost ran into my father, who slammed two fingers into her forehead, and stunned her. He than threw an open-handed punch into her sternum which caused her chest to compress in on itself and her heart exploded. He caught her body before it hit the ground and then carried it back to his own people, who waited for him at the cattle car.

Zilkomer explained the drow’s betrayal to those around him. Issuing orders the whole time, he searched around until he found a sharp rock and used it to smash in the top of the drow’s head. He then pulled out her brain and tossed it over the edge of the cattle car. Barking orders to his men to get his wife and son, Zilkomer then headed back to the drow, who were expecting their captain’s return. My father told the drow to be on guard, as it was possible that some of the mind flayers might know about the planned slave rebellion. As proof, he laid the body of the drow captain on the ground and showed them that the illithids had consumed her brain. His deception worked, as the drow now moved out with the intention of attacking the guard post. Zilkomer knew that the illithids guards would not be expecting an attack from the drow, and, this might provide the slaves with a tactical advantage.

Just as Zilkomer had ordered, the slave units from other clans began showing up shortly after the drow departed. If the drow were supposed to have been able to march out of the illithid’s stronghold, then their exit would have had to have been near the guard post, and, if the rest of the slaves could get close to that point, many of them might also be able to escape. The sounds of battle began to echo throughout the cavern. The drow had launched their attack against the unwitting mind flayers.

Thankfully for the slaves, the acoustics provided by natural cavern systems makes it extremely difficult to discern where loud noises originate. As such, the sounds of the ongoing battle seemed to originate from everywhere in every cavern. As the battle raged on, many mind flayers held their own positions. Not being able to pinpoint where the battle was occurring, they pensively waited to ambush slaves who never materialized. The battle itself was being fought in the one location that the mind flayers thought would be free from the fighting.

After what seemed like an eternity to Zilkomer, my mother finally showed up, with me in tow. My father moved us out quickly. We followed many other slaves as they ascended the steep path upwards. There’s no telling how far we traveled, but, I am positive that the githyanki raiders who chose that night to attack the illithids had no idea what was going on. Instead of mind flayers, they found themselves coming face to face with my father and several of his loyal githzerai, armed with bronze swords and stone clubs. Our condition was of no concern to them, but, what was of concern was the fact that we were githzerai, and that is all they needed to know, in order to kill us.

My mother ordered the githyanki to stop. She explained that she outranked them all and that she too, was githyanki. She explained that the illithids might, at any moment, show up on our rear, and that we needed to get away. As she moved to get past the githyanki, they noticed the bundle of rags she carried was actually a baby gith. The troop commander grabbed at me, and that’s when my father yelled, “Leave my son alone!”.

The silence persisted, but a moment, as all githyanki eyes fell on my mother, who in turn cast a saddened look at my father. Acting quickly, she threw me to my father, a split second before a silver githyanki sword burst through her breastbone. Forming a union with a githzerai was considered a crime punishable by death, and, their commander meted out that githyanki justice swiftly. I am fortunate enough to know that my mother’s dying act was enough to save my life, because those githyanki soldiers would have killed me, too,

My father and his githzerai brethren fought for their lives. In fact, the other githzerai put themselves between my father and any githyanki who tried to attack him, and while they fought, they maneuvered in such a way as to provide my father with an escape route. The githzerai killed a fair number of githyanki, but, in the end, the better armored and equipped githyanki won the battle. Well, they would have won, but, before they could give chase to my father, the mind flayers finally showed up. Using their psionic abilities, the mind flayers kept the githyanki from teleporting away, and, I don’t mind telling you that it is my hope that those bastards who deprived me of my mother, got taken prisoner, and put through the same kind of torture that my father went through when he ended up in that hellish place.

Knowing that I would be shunned by githzerai civilization, my father looked up an old friend, Bushi, and asked him to take me in. He promised to look in on me from time-to-time, and, occasionally he does. He’s told me that he is proud of the progress I have made, and, he hopes that I will live up to the promise of my name, which means, “Union of the people.” Who knows. . .maybe some day I will bring the gith back together, I know, I know. . .it’s a lofty goal, but, I can dream can’t I. If my mother could overcome her hatred of the githyanki and even come to love my father, then I don’t think that my hopes are misplaced. Even so, one thing I have to do is live up to the sacrifice my mother made for me.

Strange Bedfellows

“War makes for strange bedfellows.” That expression is normally used metaphorically, but, in the case of my parents, it turned out to be quite literal. I was not there to see it, of course. What I know comes from Bushi, the master of my dojo, and my mentor.

About thirty years ago, my father, Zilkomer, led a githzerai hunting party on a foray onto the underdark. Their sole purpose was to find and kill illithids in numbers that equaled or exceeded their own. Meeting a fair amount of success at first, Zilkomer suggested that they go to greater depths than had been tried before. The honor, should they be victorious, would have been great, indeed, not to mention the fact that they might have garnered a great amount of much needed intelligence.

Fortune, being fickle as it is, turned against my father’s group, for the early successes they had enjoyed turned out to be the calculated means by which the mind flayers lured the hunting party into a trap. Without notice, my father and his friends found themselves surrounded by a hoard of illithids and their master brain, which prevented the brave githzerai from using their own powers to plane shift away. All, but one of the party members were slaughtered: their brains devoured on the spot.
The lone survivor, my father, was captured, imprisoned and tortured. Over the course of years, the mind flayers sliced into every layer of his brain, painstakingly scouring it for knowledge they hoped to use against the githzerai race. His survival alone was testament to his phenomenal will. Eventually, the illithids came to the conclusion that they had broken him. Always in need of thralls, they decided to turn him into a slave. What better way to feed their own psychosis, then to prolong the suffering they would inflict upon him?

Outfitted with a dimensional shackle, Zilkomer was tossed into the slave pens with the rest of the thralls. “Slave pens” was a phrase that was not quite accurate. Yes, there were slaves numbering in the thousands, but, there were no structures, or quarters for them to occupy. The multitudes inhabited a tremendously large cavern, where they fought one another constantly, over food, water and even for a small piece of ground on which to lay their heads. Most of the slaves organized themselves by race, in order to improve their chances for survival. For those who tried to go it alone, death was usually swift. Those unfortunates who were cast out of their clans were usually cannibalized by their former friends.

Fate did not have this end in mind for Zilkomer. The few githzerai that there were in the pens were aligned with the deep dwarves, rock gnomes and some of the other minor races, making the faction one of the largest.

My father’s servitude continued for years and during that time, he came to quietly realize that the illithid’s arrogance would always be their weakness. Zilkomer eventually earned a significant amount of respect from his people and he was able to attain a minor rank within the hierarchy of his prison clan. The problem, as he saw it, was that as long as the slaves warred with one another, they could never dream of the day when they exploit that weakness and secure their freedom. In fact, most of the slaves had resigned themselves to the idea that they could subsist in the pens until the day they died. The faction leaders in fact, seemed happy with the situation, since they were usually afforded a higher standard of living.

Things did begin to change though, when, one day, another new thrall was consigned to the slave pens. Her face battered, her fingers broken and her tongue swollen to such an extent that she could not talk; it would have been easy to mistake her for another githzerai. The tattered remains of her clothing gave away her true nature though; githyanki, sworn enemy of the githzerai. Several members of my father’s clan instinctively moved in to snuff out what little life remained in the woman. Sensing what was about to happen, Zilkomer placed himself in between the mob and its intended victim. He used the occasion to plead for the woman’s life, citing the teachings of Zerthimon, and vowing to take responsibility for her should she cause the githzerai any trouble. The bloodthirsty members of the clan took pause, but, only for a moment. As they advanced again, Zilkomer cried out, explaining that anyone who tried to hurt the githyanki, would first have to go through him. With this pronouncement, the mob hesitated, but, the clan leader, Karsigol, stepped past the ring of would-be assailants and chastised Zilkomer, ordering him to step away. My father refused. His defiance was a direct challenged to Karsigol: one that would have to be settled on the spot. Now, the crowd moved to encircle both Zilkomer and Karsigol.

Karsigol had been the clan leader of the Githzerai for fifteen years. As clan leader, he was better fed than the rest, and, he was able to choose his own work assignments. Numerous githzerai had withered away, while Karsigol had maintained his strength. Those, whom Karsigol feared might offer a challenge, were always put in charge of teams that were sent out to fight other clans. They seldom came back alive, which was a convenience that Zilkomer suspected was a system contrived by all of the clan leaders, in order to hold on to their privileged positions. This time, however, there was no avoiding the challenge.

Years of training, in the monastery of Zuoken, was a huge advantage to Zilkomer. The disciplines he had mastered in his early years had all been put to use during his long imprisonment. Of perhaps even greater advantage to the soft spoken Zilkomer was the fact that no one but himself was aware of his abilities. Karsigol was the larger of the two combatants, and, he apparently had concluded that this advantage was enough to win the day, because he made the first move. Charging in with both of his hands held high, Karsigol reached in to grab Zilkomer by the neck and strangle him. As he clenched his fingers to grasp his adversary’s neck, they enclosed around nothing but air. Zilkomer had fallen to his backside and kicked a foot into Karsigol’s abdomen, using the force of his momentum to send Karsigol flying up and over. The force of the kick knocked the wind out of the clan leader and he struggled to get to his feet. As he stood, he felt the force of another kick to the back of his leg, which drove his knee into the rocky ground, shattering his kneecap. Zilkomer showed no mercy to the howling Karsigol. He quickly grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, extending his neck for the killing blow. Summoning his ki, Zilkomer’s hand flashed out from his waist, and in one fluid motion, grabbed Karsogol’s adam’s apple and tore it out from his neck. Karsigol looked up at the face of his conqueror in horror, unable to speak, as the blood splurted-out from his carotid artery and the air gushed from his windpipe. Zilkomer let go of his grip and the gurgling Karsigol dropped, face first, onto the cavern floor.

“Is this what you want!? Is this how you hope to live out the rest of your days, serving at the whim of the hated illithid?” The crowd of Githzerai stood in awe, hesitating to answer for fear of being perceived as a challenger to Zilkomer’s newly ascended position. My father continued, “I know of another way! My way requires courage!: the courage to forget about the perceived slights of the past from the members of the other clans!: the courage to trust the members of the other races! We have a common enemy, and, that enemy uses our mistrust of one another to keep us too weak to fight them! Our enemy uses our despair against us, so that we might not consider a better future for ourselves! For far too long, WE have been our own worst enemy! We have made it easy for the mind flayers! Surely, they laugh at us! Look at how little they respect or fear us! Tell me, when is the last time a mind flayer entered the pens? That’s right. . .NEVER! They have relied on the clan bosses to send up the appropriate number of slaves and workers. They’ve relied on us to kill one another and cannibalize our numbers so much, that I would wager that they have no idea how many of us there are. They have gotten to the point where they simply trust that the work will kill us or we will kill ourselves. I suspect that they have made deals with the clan bosses to make sure that we are tamed!”

The githzerai and deep dwarves that stood around now all started to grunt in agreement. His words were making sense. Kicking the lifeless body at his feet, Zilkomer continued, “Look at the fat on these bones! How do you suppose that in this place, with nothing but the maggot-filled scraps that we get, Karsigol was able to get so bloated? Take a look at the other clan bosses! Do they all look frail and weak to you? Why do you think that every time Karsigol had us run raids against other clans, it was always to kill their underbosses, AND, they were seldom protected? Why do you suppose that the other clans always seemed to know our defenses when they raided us to kill our members?”
At this point, the crowd was energized, realizing the truth of Zilkomer’s words.

“But, how do you think we can change it?”, came the question.

Knowing that he now had command of their loyalty, my father ordered that the githyanki woman’s wounds be tended and that she be hidden from the rest of the clans. As far as anyone should know, the githzerai killed her and ate the flesh from her bones. This was to be the way we handled any knew slaves that came to the pens. All would be welcomed into our clan, but, their fate would be hidden from the mind flayers. They would never know how many of us there were.

As it turns out, Zilkomer’s suspicions about the clan leaders was proven immediately. As the githzerai began to prepare Karsogil’s body for dinner, they stripped off his clothes and found a note in his pocket from one of the other clan leaders. The leader of the drow clan wanted the githzerai faction to send a raid to assassinate the drow second-in-command in two day’s time. My father led the raid, but, he did not kill anyone. Instead, he showed the letter to the intended victim and explained how things had been apparently working in the slave pens for hundreds of years. Later that day, the drow faction had a new leader, and the githzerai had a new alliance.

Over the course of the next two years, faction after faction in the slave pens received new leadership, but, the illithids were kept entirely in the dark. All of the factions continued to operate under the guise that their former leaders were still alive. Communications with the illithids were seldom, but, they were always done via letter, for the slave masters would never deign to come down to the pens. This gave the slave society the chance to establish a set of laws.

My father’s plan progressed in other ways as well. With all the new slaves, materials and tools were fashioned, which allowed the industrious dwarves to tunnel on their own, and, eventually, they found a series of connected caverns, with fresh water, mushrooms and game prey. The dwarves knew how to domestic and raise livestock, as well as to cultivate the fungal vegetation for consumption. In another few years, the slaves were able to sustain themselves. It must have been a site to behold.
I would be remiss at this point, were I not to mention my mother. As I am sure you have probably guessed, the githyanki woman my father saved was my mother, but, it was not all pleasantries between the two of them, let me tell you.

to be continued. . .

Solanthos: The Beginning, Part 2

After the tragedy that befell Solanthos' family and home he took some time at the Towers to recover from his wounds and prepare himself for the upcoming journey. He found himself in the library more often than not, studying the ways of conjuration and teleportation and trying to figure out how exactly he managed to dart behind his attacker without taking a step. He knew that there were certainly spells that would do such a thing, but at that point in his studies he could not grasp the intricate inflections and gestures needed to master them. He knew that something had triggered the ability at his greatest moment of fear and adrenaline and that it was instantaneous. Even his masters at the Towers could not explain the phenomenon, but they secretly were concerned that the trauma of the events caused Solanthos to forget the exact details of that night.

One particular evening Solanthos returned to his chambers to finish scribing a new spell when he found a peculiar and disturbing thing - a folded piece of parchment sticking out of his spellbook. His spellbook was magically guarded with runes that should have prevented anyone else from touching it, but somehow somebody managed to get by the magical protections on the book. He did a quick cantrip to determine if the note had any magical properties, but the telltale blue aura was nowhere to be found. He carefully opened the note.

In flowing Elven script, the note said simply, "I think we can be of some service to one another. We have a common enemy and common goals. If interested, follow the grey bird that awaits outside Greenwood."

Solanthos folded the note back up and looked around the room. There were no other signs of tampering anywhere in the room, and a quick survey indicated that no one had been seen anywhere near his room. He stayed up very late before falling alseep, pondering who might have sent this mysterious message.

---

Carandor was probably the most unorthodox looking elf the world has ever seen. He towered over most of his bretheren at over six feet tall and had a stocky build that rivaled the strongest of humans. Instead of having the long flowing locks that most elves favored, Carandor was completely bald except for one long braided ponytail hanging down to the small of his back. At first look, no one ever believed he was a full-blooded elf and he got many sideways glances from elves who didn't know him. However, he was just as elven as anyone else in Greenwood, and when Carandor's family moved to Greenwood, Solanthos took Carandor under his wing and as such they became fast friends. Their friendship to many was just as strange as Carandor's appearance; Solanthos was studious, thoughtful, and wise beyond his years, while Carandor was brash, arrogant, and impulsive. However, Solanthos found their differences fascinating and, as always, tried to learn as much as possible from this enigmatic character.

Solanthos arrived at Carandor's home a few days after receiving the note, only to find that Carandor was waiting outside for him, armed to the teeth and with bags packed.

"Wow... going somewhere?" Solanthos asked.

"Yeah - to protect you! You can't run off alone, you'll get killed!" Carandor exclaimed. Solanthos cocked his head to the side, but before he could say anything, Carandor produced a note, folded in a similar fashion on similar paper with the same flowing script. "Besides, you think I'd miss out on the fun and the chance to beat someone up? Give me a break! It's boring here anyway right now."

"Um, a lich just attacked the village. I'd say that's the least boring thing that's happened here since... well, ever."

"Lich Smitch. I'll beat up some pansy skeletal wizard just like I used to beat you! You ready?"

Solanthos sighed. There would be no convincing Carandor the error of his logic. "So, how did you get that note, anyway?"

Carandor scratched his head. "You know, come to think of it... I just found it a couple of days ago. It was the strangest thing..." He prattled on as they headed towards the city gates. Solanthos half-listened as his thoughts deepened into concern that this was some sort of trap. He also knew that he wasn't going to find any more information regarding his newfound latent abilities or the lich that destroyed his family and home unless he could find new tomes to sift through. Plus, he knew it would do him well to get the events of the last few weeks out of his head.

Just outside of the Greenwood gates, it did not take Solanthos long to figure out how they would get to their destination. A grey parrot swooped out of a tree, circled twice, and then landed on his shoulder. He rocked back and forth and cackled, then flew away toward the north. Carandor frowned.

"Are we really going to trust this random grey bird to take us somewhere good? I'd feel safer if we had a map or something." The bird flew back around Carandor's head, then swiftly plucked the earring right out of his ear and flew off, again toward the north.

"YOU SON OF A...!" Carandor bellowed as he took off toward the direction of the bird. Solanthos chuckled. He knew it was going to be a long trip, and knew that he might need to keep Carandor out of trouble, but he was glad to have the company.

(to be continued...)

Solanthos: The Beginning

Solanthos was born in a small elven town called Greenwood almost 150 years ago. His father was the mayor of the town, a former adventurer whose family had run the town for many millenia, while his mother was a beautiful and well-revered mage amongst the Elven Orders of Wizardry. They led a peaceful life with few hardships. Solanthos was generally accepted amongst his peers, but he tended towards introversion, preferring to study and read books.

Solanthos excelled in his studies. It became quickly apparent at a very young age that Solanthos would share his mother's thirst for knowledge and penchant for matters of the arcane. His father knew that this would be the best path for the boy despite his personal desire for Solanthos to be a strong and powerful bladesinger, so from that early age he started teaching him self-defense and attack techniques that even mages could use. The boy wasn't very strong, so he taught him how to use his agility to avoid attacks and showed him the art of throwing small weapons to keep foes at bay. When it was time, Solanthos headed off to the Towers for his arcane training.

Greenwood was only two days' travel from the Towers, so he went back home to see his family and friends whenever he got a break from his studies. His masters at the Tower all sent them brilliant praises of his natural ability with magic. He developed a particular affinity to the Astral Plane, quickly grasping the theoretical concepts of interdimensional travel and creating objects from what seemed to be nothing at all. As most elves, he shunned death magic from an early age; mastering the powers of the dead held no appeal to those who fought to preserve life and enjoy beauty. He also tended to avoid the powers of enchantment, as they simply held no interest to him. Solanthos much rather enjoyed outwitting his adversaries instead of taking command of them, and since all of the elves in the Towers were immune to such magic anyway, few people cared to learn the spells during their studies.

Solanthos returned home from the Towers during a fortnight break to visit, arriving well into the early morning hours. He walked up to the door and ran his hands over the familiar wards on the door to dispel them, but his attention quickly averted to the flash in the window. What he would see in that flash of light would be burned into his memories forever - his father laying face down in a pool of his own blood, his mother facing a dark-cloaked figure accompanied by several orcs. Tears stained her cheeks as she held her hand high in the air, the source of the flash. Then, complete and utter darkness.

Solanthos was disoriented as he felt his way around in the dark. He heard chaos inside as the orcs clamored and ran into each other trying to regain their bearings. He fumbled for the door handle, but found it to be red-hot. He then smelled the smoke, and had the horrible realization that his home was burning inside. In a flash of adrenaline and rage, he put his palm to the door and uttered a few harsh words. The the door blew off its hinges, and even through the darkness he could hear that several of the orcs were collected and thrown into the opposite wall, their bones making sickening sounds as they were crushed between ironwood and oak. He reached for the ring on his left hand, one his mother had given him to use in case his magic ever got out of hand. With one word, the ring would dispel all of the magic in the area, revealing the trespassers that had threatened his mother and killed his father.

He spoke the command word and the darkness fell away to be replaced by a far worse scene; the figure stood behind his mother poised for attack. She saw his reaction and turned to her attacker as the sword entered her ribcage. He pushed her unceremoniously off his sword and she crumpled to the ground, barely able to breathe. The attacker then rushed toward Solanthos. It was all happening impossibly fast. He took a step, wiling something, ANYTHING...

... and then was five feet behind his attacker. He felt the warmth of the magic around him and knew his mother was still alive. He knew that somehow he had hopped through the Astral Plane to get behind his target, but didn't know how. He also knew that his dagger would connect with his disoriented attacker in the precise spot it needed in order to kill him almost instantly. He didn't think, or have time to think. He just KNEW.

He threw the blade and it sliced, end over end. After two perfect rotations it implanted deep in the back of the cloaked figure's neck, leaving him gasping through a ruptured windpipe for air as his body went into shock. Solanthos turned to his mother, who was fighting for breath as well, and then heard a chant he didn't recognize from a voice he didn't recognize. His mother's eyes widened and she mouthed one word... "Run."

He took off toward the door and turned back just in time to see his mother engulfed in flames, and another more sinister thing attacking her. It wore the tattered robes of an ancient archmage, robes that had long since rotted and decayed. Its skeletal hand reached for her face in longing, whispering and hissing an incantation as she drew back in horror. She began to glow bright blue as Solanthos could feel a great shift in the magic around him.

The blue light gathered around her until it became almost blinding. Solanthos felt holes ripping in the fabric of reality as all of the magic in the area were channeled through her body. The energy, the pure mana, crackled throughout the room, dancing around him, intoxicating him with its power. He heard his mother within his head as loudly as he heard his own thoughts.

"Please go. I will do what I must."

He turned toward her but she flicked her hand, shoving him through the door with magical force.

"Please run now. You can save yourself. Know that I love you always."

The energy consumed the entire house, and then everything flashed white. Solanthos took a step forward, and was suddenly hundreds of feet away watching the explosion. Another flash, and he was a mile away. Another flash... then... nothing.

---

Solanthos woke up in his room at the Towers. Bleary shapes sharpened and formed images, and he soon was able to recognize his Headmaster and several of his peers standing over his bed, many with relieved expressions on their faces.

The Headmaster explained that a lich had been targetting his mother for some time hoping to one day steal her life force and use their combined magic to enter the world again as a powerful mage. However, he underestimated her abilities and she was able to banish him back to his phylactery. In the process, however, the entire house was consumed. He wasn't sure how Solanthos got back to the Towers though. Solanthos couldn't cast a powerful spell like that yet, but he suspected it was caused by his affinity for teleportation combined with the powerful magics that surrounded him that night. Or perhaps it was his mother protecting him one last time before sacrificing herself to temporarily banish the evil lich. Regardless, Solanthos swore that he would avenge the death of his mother one day, once his power grew strong enough.

He also knew that the only way to gain that power would be to leave the Towers, leave Greenwood, and begin exploring the world. Fortunately, the opportunity presented itself almost immediately in the form of an old friend... and a stranger named Cauchmar.

(to be continued...)

The Dragonscale Nursery

Drake donned the earth crown, an act which immediately set-off a chain of events. One by one, the crystal columns in the center of the chamber shattered. Each column revealed a secret: It had contained the essence of a powerful creature for centuries, as a final guardian to those who would seek to acquire the power of the earth crown.

Standing now, within the midst of the party were a fiendish looking ettin and a writhing mass of tentacles, mouths and eyes, which Solanthos understood to be a chaos beast. Each adversary moved to attack, with the Ettin taking some small abuse early. Solanthos detected a third foe, when he felt the force of a powerful wind which tried to push him back. Squinting, he could just see the outline of an invisible stalker.

As dangerous as the creatures appeared to be, the steadfast heroes demonstrated that they were far more dangerous. Going into a rage, Ymir pounced on the ettin, cutting deeply between the creature’s two heads. The force of the blow almost cleaved the ettin completely into two halves. Needless to say, the creature died where it stood, with one half of its body falling one way and the other half falling in the other direction. The force of the fall tore at the skin, completing the dissection. The ettins bowels spilled out on the floor at Ymir’s feet.

Drake meanwhile used the power of the earth crown to summon two large earth elementals. The first one slammed into the chaos beast with such ferocity that it liquefied the foe and splattered its guts all over the floor and on everyone standing nearby. Moving from outside of the shadows, the tiefling that the group had recently encountered now tried to sneak attack Dexter. The foolish tiefling had apparently not been paying attention to the awesomeness that was once again on display. The second of the two elementals slammed into the tiefling, literally smashing his face into the back of his head.

The only thing left was the invisible stalker. Dexter had managed to sling it a few times. Already hurting, the stalker was fairly easy prey for the earth elemental, who finished it off.

Congratulations to the party. You are now the proud owners of the Keep of Kings, and, with earth elementals under your control, you put them to work to make necessary repairs and to start new construction. If everyone would like, make a floorplan of what you want your section to look like. Also, Korik might want to build a temple of Pelor. Solanthos might want to build a gambling hall. You might want a barracks or community living quarters. You might consider adding an inn and trying to find people who would want to live in your keep. I am sure that notes, posted in Brindinford or even in the Capitol, Tringlee, might attract people hoping to profit from your newfound locale.

About two months into your work, a stranger, with a foreign accent came to you. He was bedraggled and apparently quite exhausted. He introduced himself as Targen Klem, follower of Villeforte Mondago. He explains that his master was abducted by a dragon lord for whom he had been searching. According to rumor, this dragonlord has been collecting dragon eggs and placing them within a type of nursery, somewhere in the Lortmil Mountains. This unnamed dragon lord is apparently planning to raise the dragons and sell them off as mounts to evil people, eventually in the hopes of taking over the known world. This dragon lord is also apparently a follower of the old ways of the Ddraigasa: Those who worshipped Ashardalon, the fearsome red dragon. Targen offered the party 500 gp each for the safe return of his master. In addition, since, as Targen pointed out, his master’s mission was to destroy any and all evil dragon eggs, Targen offers the party 500 gp for each and every dragon egg that they bring to him. Targen pointed out the general vicinity of the dragon egg nursery for you, and, with haste, the party left.

The journey was largely uneventful. At one point, the party came upon a crazed treant, who screamed out nonsensical rantings about a dragon. He accused the party of being in league with “the dragon” and would not listen to reason. The treant died at the end of Ymir’s blade and that night, the party had a nice roaring fire.

Another few days travel brought the group to the mysterious nursery. Tragedy almost claimed Drake’s life, when he was unable to detect the presence of an acid trap at the entrance to the ancient cavern. After successfully disabling the trap, the group proceeded in and cautiously looked to see what they could find. Drake noticed a pair of large blackscaled lizardmen in a corner of one room, and, hoping to score a quick kill, he loosed two arrows at one of the LouSs. (Lizards of unusual size) He missed on both shots, and the the battle started. Pouring out of almost every nook and cranny, LoUSs and hobgoblins came after the party. Gyrr and Korik took the brunt of the attacks. Gyrr came close to being knocked out several times, as did Korik, who was finally able to get close enough to keep both himself and Gyrr alive. Solanthos was, at one point, hurting as well, but, given enough time, the party showed just how resilient it can be, and killed off all of the enemies.

Searching around turned out to be quite fortuitous, as the party amassed quite a collection of treasure. In addition, the group entered a back room and found an old acquaintance of Korik and Gyrr’s: Meepo the kobold. It turns out that Meepo is the dragonlord, but, he is not acting as Targen Klem described. In fact, Meepo explained to the party that Targem is the one with evil intentions. Targem is hoping to raise the Tsaggest Darkweld, the dracolich, and, he needs dragon eggs for the ritual that will awaken the terror. Meepo has asked for your help in stopping Targem. He gave you a map of the surrounding area, which pinpoints locations to which you will need to go. Meep explained that in order to stop the ritual, you will need to find the Egg of Bahamut and the Egg of Tiamat. In addition, Meepo gave you a half-dozen dragon eggs that are actually dead, saying, “If Targen come for eggs, you give him these to fool him.”

And now, you are on your way. . .

Which one of you cleaned Gyrr's soiled underpants?

The intrepid heroes of Brindinford had finally completed the trek to the Keep of the Fallen Kings; property for which they had received the title from Baron Euphemese. Viewing the keep from the entrance, the wear and tear of the ages was quite apparent. The Kings Road wound its way all the way to the front entrance of the keep, where the doors had been destroyed. Searching the rubble in the doorway, Drake noticed the body of a dead dwarf under the door and found a pale blue ioun stone wedged between two of the flagstones on the floor. The dwarf had been dead for awhile, but, there was no way to tell just how long it had been since he had given up the ghost. Hoping to garner some type of answer, Drake used his ability to speak with plants, and was only able to learn that a large creature had recently passed this way. Wondering what the creature may have been, the party soon found out, as a half-fiendish ogre sauntered into view, attracted by the sound of Drake's voice.

The group acted quickly, realizing that the creature looming before them, had no peaceful intentions. The fiend gave a battle cry, calling for his compatriots to aid him, and then moved to attack. Drake and Lianna managed to loose a few arrows into the creature's wretched ashen hide, hoping to distract the ogre fiend's attention from the stunty dwarf Gyrr, who maneuvered closer to engage the foul beast in melee combat. The tactic failed. Entering into a raging fury, this harbinger of death stepped forward, acting so quickly that Gyrr failed to see the glint of the large falchion that swung toward him. The mighty blow struck Gyrr at the collar bone with a sickening crunch and cut so deeply, that the blade stopped only after reaching the dwarf's sternum. Gyrr died before he hit the ground, his heart exploding, showering his nearby companions and the ogre with a bloody sheen. Stunned, the rest of the party stood, with mouth's agape, wondering if their fates would match that of the indefatigable Gyrr.

Realizing that now was not the time for mourning, Ymir launched himself at the ogre, intent on avenging his friend. From behind a wall inside the keep, the sound of a horn blared and the party realized that the ogre had friends. Placing himself in a position to take out any enemies who might try to flank them, Solanthos readied himself to cast a web spell as soon as an enemy came round the corner in the hall at the rear of the group. The wizard's keen situational awareness was proven, the moment another ogre fiend rounded the corner. Launching his web spell, Solanthos was frustrated the the creature was dextrous enough to avoid becomming entangled. He knew, however that the ogre would at least be slowed down as it tried to traverse the web's expanse. In the meantime, Ymir, Drake, Lianna, Dexter and Ymir continued to concentrate their attacks on the abomination that had killed Gyrr. Collectively, the damage they dealt was overwhelming, and, Lianna grimaced with a small sense of satisfaction, as she buried an arrow in the beast's chest and watched it fall.

Turning their attention to the other ogre, the group fired volley after volley, killing him, before he had a chance to get out of the web. While the second ogre fell, a group of howling orcs stepped over the body of the first ogre and continued the assault. To add to the group's problems, the orcs had with them, a pet dire bear. To make matters worse, a chimera landed behind the group, coming into the keep through the entrance that the party had used just a moment before, and exhaled a stream of acid which struck three of the party members. Again, after assessing the situation, Solanthos used his magic to conjure a debilitating cloud of festering, putrisent noxious gas. The cloud enveloped three of the orcs and the dire bear. The dire bear and one orc were unable to withstand the gas, and they became violently nauseated; vomiting and excreting all of the foulness that their bodies could not absorb. Korik used a few of the attack spells in his arsenal to attack the chimera, while dexter and drake attacked with ranged weapons. Lianna felled the chimera, Drake focused his arrows on the helpless dire bear, and even korik pulled out his crossbow to help with the animal. Meanwhile, Ymir laid the hurt down on the leader of the orcs, and, it was at this point that the party began to believe that they might just survive the encounter.

Killing all but one of the attackers, the group manacled the nauseated orc and began questioning him. The orc was unwilling to trade his life for answers to the party's questions, and, after the nausea wore off, the orc lunged at Ymir, trying to strangle him. One attack leter, the corpse of the dead orc lay sprawled out on the ground. After looting the bodies of the fallen enemies, the party decided to heal themselves and then head back to civilization to see if Gyrr could be raised.

The sense of relief at the sight of Gyrr's rejevenated body washed over his friends like a wave. Although not quite feeling like his old self, Gyrr was happy to be alive again. (Gyrr is now 7th level again)

Going back to the keep, the group located a trap door that opened to an area below. Drake searched the door for traps, but, after finding nothing, he stepped back and JJ suggested that the meat shield that was not his real character (I mean, Gyrr) open the door. WHAM! The anti-gravity spell that trigged when teh door opened, sent Gyrr falling all the way up to crash into the ceiling, at which point Gyrr fell back to the ground taking damage from the fall and from the rubble that fell from the ceiling, burying Gyrr beneath, The group acted quickly to dig Gyrr out, but sadly, Gyrr was dead again! (Just kidding) They dug Gyrr out of the rubble and healed him back to full. Drake then descended into the hole and as he touched the ground, he watched as a large blue creature, of a type he had never seen before, stepped out through a wall. The scout scurried up the ladder and formulated a plan with the rest of the group.

Those party memebers who had the ability to feather fall, used the tactics of a vertical assault and dropped down the hole. After the party had all descended, the started to move into a large central chamber, where they once again encountered the Blue Slaad. A fight ensued, and the slaad was joined by a pair of fiendish-Girallon allies. This level fo the keep exuded evil. A river of blood, emanating from the statue of a devil on a dais at the far end of the room, flowed in two sections, which each meandered to the mouth of a demonic fresco on the floor. The mouth was an obvious source of evil. While most of the party maneuvered to fight, Korik used his turn undead attempts to destroy the manifestation of evil on the floor, as well as to destroy a pair of ghostly doors, which also exuded an evil taint.After killing the slaad and the girallons, Drake began to investigate the source of the blood that flowed relentlessly from the statue. Moving to get a closer look, he caught the attention of a crimson ooze, which then followed him into the large room, and the party once again had to fight. Eventually, the ooze was dispatched and Drake the statue was destroyed. The flow of blood ceased, and, after the blood pool drained, the party clearly saw a crystalline crown within the pool. Donning the crown, Drake was immediately receptive to the power of the crown. The Earthcrown allowed the wearer to summon one huge, two large or three medium sized earth elementals, who were tasked with the serving the crown wearer as long as the crown remained within the confines of the keep. The crown has several other powers, but, Drake immediately realized that if he takes the crown out of the keep or its environs, it will crumble to dust.

However, after placing the crown on his head, three blue crystal pillars shattered, and tehir former occupants are ready to fight.

When we return, the game will pick up at this climactic fight.

I'll explain more on the crown in the coming days.

The Surrounding Environs

As promised, here is a map of the areas in which you have adventured. As you can see, the Lortmil Mountains take up the greater part of the north side of the area you have been traversing. This map may not be large enough. I will be sure to print one out for you all as well for our next session.