Legends of Belariath
Mozenwrathe
Cold Comfort: Bad Boy For Life - Part 2
As you have been told, my allies and I uncovered a dark secret underneath the earth. Coming from one such as I, the term "dark secret" must seem humourous, but a "white enigma" does not have the same ring to it. Although an enigma it truly was - a whole ruined city being brought back to life by a coalition of sentient beings and demons both. What mystical beauty the UnderDark holds, it still was not enough to mask the stench of diabolical intent coming from every participating mind in the planning of that pace. For no other reason could I call it a staging area;an example, if you would, of what can be done when evil minds think alike for a length of time longer than three days. Somehow, we were going to have to muster enough forces - both of arms and of sorcery - to completely raze a fortress to the ground.
I had a distinct feeling this was going to take a while.
Normally, anything I am assigned to will take up to a week to accomplish, including travel time. I am given a target, I find the target, I eliminate the target. At each end place a bookend of visiting my Liege Employer. Sometimes I am teleported there, other days I take more mundane forms of travel: horse and carriage, griffin, and by ship are three of the ones I seem to use a lot. Dragonback have I done, but it seems to incur its own set of hazards, such as feeding, cleaning, and the occasional thunderstorm. Not to mention dragonslayers and well, other dragons. Magical scrolls are no longer perks of the job, they are essential survival tools. This business of removing a city from the plane of existence was far different, including the aspect of if I was truly to be involved in the actual "cleansing" of the area. I hoped not, for such things are very messy and best left to berserkers and dead things. (Always good at that point to have a necromancer around.)
My thoughts were racing as the dark elves guided us towards the crust of Faerun, for my eyes had seen far too much by this time to be completely shocked, nor were my senses numbed by jaded persona. I had seen the truth for myself, and even I was forced into some semblance of action - not for love of my race, but duty to my Liege Employer. The dark elves had far been more "humane" to me than fellow humans, so I bore my own race no true love at all. I had begun to plan out the numbers for a second "visit" to the city - weapons, tools, incantations, scrolls, even false identities - when I was informed we had reached it. The surface was just beyond the cave we had found ourselves in, and we managed to elude any other patrols whom might have tracked us. It had not been smooth sailing travelling with the injured, but they had done it for me once or more times previous, so it bothered me not. Besides, it had given me my chance to comptemplate the future as I could forsee it myself without true divination. All the dwarves did on the way up was argue with the minotaurs about whom made better brews. (And for your personal infortmation, I would advise checking Stout brewed by halflings. They say you can use it for more than drinking, but I've little experience with such beverages.).
When my allies and I reached the surface, the dark elves among us immediately cringed at the aspect of spending time above ground. They were still quite at home under the earth, and the prospect of facing the sun did not warm their hearts any. The minotaurs finally had chance to get jibes in, for they were mocked for their sluggishness in comparison to the elves the entire while we were beneath the notice of Faerun's stars and skies. Here were they more in their element, although mazes and caverns caused them no distress. Even the dwarves managed to gain some chuckles in their discomfort. When they turned to me and asked if I had any comments, I replied:
"Sure I have an opinion on this matter. We still have a ways to go before any of us are safe. All of us are hunted in this particular kingdom, so we must not tarry long. The displacement point is but a few miles away, and we've enough energy to reach it with time to spare before dawn. Unless, that is, you care to fight a moon elven phalanx in training with but a few hours rest in you. I, for one, am not so eager to die as you all must be, for I see you not stepping in time to the beat of your hearts."
They got the message swiftly enough. Being the youngest, the shortest-lived, and also the one with the most deaths (mine and others) to credit, could be a definite bonus when convincing others to do as I wished. When an assassin tell you about an army, you listen - either that, or you find out for yourself if they were lying about the range of the archers. And with elven archers, as long as they can see or smell you, you are -never- out of range. I learned that particular fact on my second visit to Menzoberranzan the hard way - with an arrow through my hand...
*****
My initial visit to Menzoberranzan did not actually involve me entering the dark elven city. I was busy observing a huge battle which easily could have been the end of me. Good thing I decided not to enter it, for I am quite certain at least one of the many pariticpants would have been feasting on my flesh or soul. Of course, as it was not my fight to begin with, I had no inclination to enter myself in a fight which involved dragons and dark elves at the same time. Suicide has been long considered an option to those whom find themselves in a hopeless situation - entering THAT fight would have been equivalent to commiting suicide.
This time, I came down on my own. Normally, this too could be counted as fatal foolishness. After all, a lone human wandering in the UnderDark is looking for death in some form or another. If not the dark elven, then the duergar, the kuo-toa, starvation, stomach rot, wanding carrion crawlers, and various wraiths alone make the trip hazardous. Oh, I forgot to mention the cave-ins, did I not? The land below the light of the sun is not known for its stability, whether it be politically, magically, or structurally. I had been assigned once more to go to the dark elven city of Menzoberranzan, if for nothing else my useful talent of surviving such strange circumstances.
I had spent one day already in the unnatural darkness and had finally become accustomed to the feeling of oppresion and claustophobia the place generated. Something was leading me down further into the bowels of the land of eternal midnight, much like how pigeons will find the same town to plague each year at the same time along the coasts. I did not attempt to understand, nor did I take it for granted. My crossbow was always armed with a poisoned quarrel, and my daggers were kept close to my rival hand. No scrolls or evidence of magic did I have on my person, as I did not wish to give away any advantage I might have held against those whom would underestimate me. As it stood, however, it all came to naught.
That afternoon (by my reckoning of time already spent below ground) did I hear something rustle in the darkness beyond my vision. At that point did my danger sense kick into overdrive, warning me of some threat close by. "Close" was the operative word, for before I could possibly raise my crossbow to level in the direction of the noise, did a whistling noise sound off to my left. Within moments, my right hand went completely numb, pierced clean through with a dark elven wrist crossbow bolt. The medium crossbow I had been holding fell from my then useless fingers, clattering on the ground loudly, but not shattering. (Ah, the usefulness of dwarven durability is never lost on me.) Not firing, but pointing the way the initial assault came from, the crossbow was then surrounded in a field of static force, rendering my attempting to reach it futile, as if the sudden appearance of five dark elven warriors was not dissuading enough. None were male, and yet none were priestesses. I found this personally odd, as all my teachings had stated very rarely would a group of talented dark elves be found without a priestess in their midst.
Not long did I have to wait for my answer to my unasked question. The crossbow then acted most treacherous, floating into the air and turning, poised at my left breast. This, for certain, was not the way my fortunes were to be made in the service of my Liege Employer. I remained calm and concentrated on the threads of power I was barely able to see, following the slender cords to a well of blackness and absence of movement from a few strides of a hill giant away. Not that I could see her too well, but I could feel her presence quite easily when I thought about it. Looking to my hand, I wondered if it would be considered an act of violence to try to remove that bolt any time soon. I voted to leave it there, as I was not actually able to notice how hurt it was at the time, prefering to keep my eyes on the space where the priestess would appear from.
Well, she -would- have if she did not choose to dimension door right behind me. That little shift of power did I catch the flicker of, despite the lack of obvious casting. A wand or ring, I suspected, gave her that little push. To my neck I heard her whisper in passable Common to surrender myself to their care and accept my new life as a slave of House Csuckari-Tor, one of the minor Houses inside of Menzoberranzan. The other dark elven females make subtle motions of disapproval, for I believe at least one of them had designs on my heart for her trophy room, while another was blatantly wanting me for ... "fun." I aspired to block such images from my mind for the duration.
My next words would decide the rest of my life - all five seconds of it if I spoke wrong. This mind of devilish inspiration lept into action, having remembered the Houses involved finally of that fateful first descent I took. Talking in the submissive tone of Common very patiently, I mentioned my observations of the Night of Plague Fires (as I soon found out it was refered to as in "polite company") to them and inquired about the fates of the Houses whom engaged in that peculiar magestorm. She was surprised, both at my gall to speak without asking which ought to have earned my tongue being torn from my head, and my first-hand knowledge of the shadow war's culmination. I got the answer spoken to me in Common: both of the Houses had managed to get themselves eliminated in that one brawl of blood, any remaining members of those Houses had found shelter in personal allies' Houses, their names changed and references to their old Houses forever stricken from records.
One of the other dark elves - a thief taker by her garb and weaponry - demanded coarsely how would a human know of such things. Her blade was at my throat and pressing against my collarbone before any could halt her progress. One quick glance showed me how she could be so bold - she was the elder sister of the priestess, and actually of higher rank. This definitely took my breath away for a moment, but as I regained it I spelled out for her my first walk under the starless skies of the UnderDark. This managed to both ease her suspicions about me (thereby saving my throat for another day) and granting me personal asylum - provided if my memory served me correctly I would be able to help them find some of the fallen dark elf's weapons. This was a service which came naturally to me, so I agreed.
Finally, one of the other warriors - most likely from a subordinate House - spoke up about my hand. The priestress shrugged, and with a quick word was my hand healed, free of the poison on the quarrel itself. My eyes did not marvel at the site, but my instincts were honed to the fact she clearly could have slain me at any given time. This was not a comforting thought in the least. Death I can see is fine. Death I cannot is aggravating, even if I am an assassin. Some things just do not carry over, I suspect.
When we made it into the city of Menzoberranzan, did I finally allow my awe to show. The first time had I only seen the city from a distance, but this time was I finally within its walls. At the edge of the borders, did I witness no less than three supervised duels taking place, one which apparently was long anticipated for the sheer amounts of bets taking place. My money was on the small, weaker, more fragile dark elf - he reminded me of me. When the patrol whom caught me noticed my eyes on the duel, they asked whom I would vouch for in the duel, and like a proper servent I stated which one, but not why. They all laughed, saying the larger woman clearly was going to slay the weaker male. They all stopped laughing when with a beautiful pirohuette, the male plunged his hidden dagger into the woman's breast, ending her life in a brief and achingly delicate moment. of no doubt would she be resurrected, but the point had been made. As the priestess herself scowled at me and asked how I could have forseen such a parable ending to the duel, I shrugged and stated he looked like an assassin - she was trained to fight first, he to kill.
I was again right. He WAS an assassin. Go figure.
The five decided my fate swiftly in dark elven, which not one moment did I let on I understood. It had taken us four days to reach the city, all the while pausing at checkpoints. Each one of the pauses brought questions from every single dark elf in the section. It is amazing how curious the dark elves are about a realm they claim to have no interest in. Many of the questions were about the fate of the various Evil Dragons whom were known to roam across the lands. I am glad I keep up to date on such things, for that could have been dangerous for me not to know the details of the Wyrms of Darkness - especially their current travel patterns (which thankfully were non-existent).
Traipsing through the city quietly, they made stops at various places, making purchases from the merchants and occasionally enquiring from their slave if they had made the right choice. My guessing wrong would earn me twenty-five lashes against the diamond wheel for each error. Knowing my life was forfeit if I made the slightest miscalculation, my death-dealing thoughts turned to commerce, and I realized even though this was a trap no matter what I stated, I would be best going with honesty. And so I did, pointing out every mistake they made - which were many. Too many, in fact, for them to have been doing them by accident. Thrice I almost had my head removed from an infuriated merchant, only to have to sooth their ego as well as confirm my suspicions with my five captors. Once, knowing the priestess by this time considered money to be no object, I snatched the sword from the back of a guard for a merchant, because THAT truly was the best blade he had available, and he had known it not. The guard knocked me into a pillar of stone, breaking my ribcage with the one blow. The tallest of the three warriors, also a part-time sorceress, informed the guard quietly of the punishments which could occur from dealing death unto a slave without permission.
They got a magical blade whose curse was a blood rage for the low cost of absolutely nothing that day. The curse was written in high elven, which I was forced to admit being able to translate. Activating the curse, I then overrode it with the words of power that lay on the pommel of the blade. Never before had I seen a longsword with safeguards on the magic before. I took that to heart for further perusal.
Being carted to the field of battle that was, I was overcome with the aura of diabolical insanity for a long time, knocking me unconscious. Being affiliated with a devil can be detrimental at times. When I was awoken by a few good slaps to my face, I coughed up blood from my still cracked ribcage, instructed to find anything within the bloodstained rubble of value. It took me a full day to discover five items, with the broken bones and the lack of food and sleep affecting my ability to search. The five were ruthless in their analysis, scowling as I did not find anything of worth to them personally. That was when they gave me an incantation of forced sleep and healing, just wishing to use me until they found enough to raise themselves in power.
I did not believe I could survive an assault by any one of them, let alone all five, so I had to come up with something quickly. Then, by complete accident, I fell across something, literally. It was a casket. A burial casket, for the dead. Demanding I open it, the five took positions around the casket while my fingers went to work on the iron box of death. All my years of training had not prepared me for such work in these conditions. Finding a magical trap, I decided not to trip it yet, saving it just in case. When the casket opened, however, I had a distinct feeling the trap might have been preferable.
What left the prison of steel was a transformed member of that ill-fated battle of the dark elf Houses. She was now more than a dark elf, and less. Somewhere in the midst of all the magic, she had been bonded to the essences of one of the dragons.. and one of the demons. Her blood and theirs must have mixed, making her something new. Wings of satiny smoothness coated in yellow scales come from her back, while horns long and sensuous stretched from her brow. Quickly did the others retreat, immediately going into defensive positions. Only I remained before her. Her eyes focused on my human form, and she loomed before me, mystical flames swirling around my form as her fingers began to trace my lips.
Wonderful. Absolutely fantastic. Me versus a disoriented tiefling. Could my day get any better?
With tongue of silver and gesture of mithril did I have to use my words to once more save my life. And to think, all my reading of literature was finally paying off with my being -polite- to others, ingratiating even. I swiftly spun the tail of the destruction of the Houses, and how she would be best serving the House Csuckari-Tor from this point forward, and how she would be able to gain prestige for herself, as now being part demon she would be considered closer to Kirva than any normal dark elf priestesses not withstanding. She liked the sound of that, except for the part of wanting some blood to whet her appetite. After all, it had been months since she last fed, and all that time had she believed herself completely expired, just left in a limbo of her own conception. The casket had Still playing the good little slave, I offered her mine willingly, my stomach churning at the words to the demon. Gladly did she take it my human blood, however, the flavour spicy enough for her to not drain me dry. Leaving me for dead, however, she raised a few weapons from deep within the killing grounds and filled them into her previous sarcophagus of metal, enchanting the blood and lost souls of slaves into them. Smiling at her new House-mates, she led the way along with one of the warriors, conversing about how best to introduce herself to her -new- Matron.
It took a few tries, but I did end up picking myself up off the ground. A few books had been uncovered by the tiefling's earthshaking. Scrambling to grab them, I had a distinct memory of this happening before. Finding a few bags, I threw them into one bag, along with the spellbooks and a few errant wands and spell components looked over by the previous scouring teams. This time, however, it took me a lot longer to make it back to the surface without supplies. Good thing one of those spellbooks had a Create Food spell within, or I truly would have starved to death. I made a point to never go back to the UnderDark without proper preparation again.
Then again, what did I know?
*****
Our trip across the sylvan elf kingdom was rather uneventful. For that was I greatful. We did not need to face off against anything more powerful than ourselves. Not right now, especially when we were so close to finding our way out of this rather perilous realm. The gateway was going to open up just at dawn - which is when we were timed to make our way from the scouting trip to begin with. Of course, we had no clue the magnitude of what we were to stumble upon from before, so leaving this place with our skins intact was of the utmost importance.
Something brought up as we traveled under cover of natural nightfall - why not simply trick the elven kingdoms into doing our dirty work for us? This was proposed by one of the dwarves, a man whom was well known for his pragmatism. We all halted our progress - we still had hours left before our departure window, and it was a sound thing to do. After all, why waste our own lives on something that would be better left to those we prefered expire before us anyway. A few well-placed messages, a couple phony botched assassinations, and we would be able to attract two elven kingdoms, and at least three human mercenary armies looking for plunder and fame. It would be a golden opportunity for them to take on their hated foes, with us taking out any survivors whom we thought were too much of a threat to continue breathing.
Alas, but there was one fatal flaw to it all: we would be almost completely blind to what was going on down there unless we exposed ourselves. Scrying would easily be detected, as would many other forms of magical monitoring. Familiars were too chancy, and having spies trying to send messages to and from the front would be to tempt Providence with their souls. That, and in no way could we leave the forces of Good to simply grab the majority of the spoils which would be left behind. And what of the slaves? The elves would easily slay them by accident as save them, instead of arming them so they could strike at their foes or flee for their lives.
What we would need to do is somehow attract those forces of good sometome after we had struck the telling blow to the city's main overlords. In such fashion, could we then have the kingdoms of those whom we dislike do our clean up for us. If planned correctly, the strike forces would be able to slip out amidst the chaos, most likely with a few spells of alteration and illusion to assist. This line of thinking made the most sense, as did hiding in the undergrowth when we heard a patrol stroll by on one of their criss-cross search patterns for troublemakers.
You would be shocked to see how a minotaur can hide themselves when the need strikes them great enough.
Reaching our point of departure, we cracked open our backs for something to eat, and a chance to remove some natural poisons from ourselves. It never paid to teleport when you needed to go. Accidents most embarassing had been known to occur, and none of us wished to shame ourselves by being a statistic. The food was good, albeit cold for we could not set a fire to warm it or ourselves. Sitting down, we kept up our vigilance, preparing weapons and cleaning out various old vials and such knicknacks. Two hours goes by frightfully slowly when there is naught to keep yourself busy. So while we made our rudimentary checks through our supplies, we discussed what we had seen from our vantage point, and how best to get a closer look. With all those slaves about seeking some sort of relief or gain, not to mention the villains whom occupied the city, we were looking at entering a place with no allies of any sort. No escape routes had immediate presented themselves if an alert was sounded, and many other blockades were in place to keep others out, so we would have to figure they could be used to keep US in.
Finally did our window of opportunity open. Stepping through it, I found myself wondering how exactly do these gates work, and why did they always have to be in some place where if we made the slightest mistake, we would end of fighting an army or demon or something we -really- had no business tackling on our own or as a unit? I was the last to cast myself into the magical threshhold, as per our normal arrangement. Not that I was the most powerful or least important, but I was far better at "disappearing" than the others. I had been doing it for a far shorter time, but humans tend to blend in better than minotaurs for some strange reason.
Teleportation. Over short distances it is not bad, depending on the caster. Over longer distances, it can be a real hassle, especially for detailed accuracy of where you land. If you are going between dimensional realms, that accuracy becomes more than just vital, it may determine not just where you end up, but whom you end up as. There are tales of people crossing from one world to the next, only to find themselves transformed at the final destination. Now, there are no proofs of this occuring, but I am reminded every time I find myself using a slipstream gateway incantation. It feels like you are being torn apart and put back together the first time, but every time after that your body becomes more used to it. Now the reason my Liege Employer uses those is they are almost impossible to find the source of. Then again, he and some of his researchers worked on the spell for two hundred years before they perfected it. There is something to be said for being virtually immortal, I surmise.
Where we ended up was the gateway room, specially warded and enchanted just for this purpose. The "room" was the size of a barn, so in case a dragon was sent in from outside the realm, they could fit quite comfortably - two small ones of forty feet in length could rest side by side. The others were already being given the once over by the portal guards, ogre magi and orc/demon hybrids all trained in divination and illusion magics. Nothing I could not slay on my own, but they were working for my Liege Employer, so there was no threat and no need. Exiting the gateway room, we went straight to report into the majordomo of our Liege Employer's personal domicile within the realm he was native to - the fifth level of Hell. I did say he was a devil, correct?
All about us were various beings and denizens my Liege Employer had managed to coerce into being his servants. Most of them were under binding soul contracts, or something to the equivalent in the cases of those without tangible souls. A few I recognized, but many I did not. It suited me fine, as I was not there for conversation. I just needed to speak with the majordomo of the West Wind, a draconian from a world known as Krynn named Sung-Hoo Lau`Mste. I did not appreciate her tone with my comrades, but as she was like that with everything she came across, we let it slide. That, and the fact she would have us all ensorceled with webs of pure lightning if she felt like it. That I did see happen once to a demon crossing into the gateway room. The smell was horrible from the plague beast -before- she fried it. And that was with two spells... weaker ones if you hear the older servants here tell of it. I for one was just fine with that display of power.
"So," she commenced in her official way, a voice that grated on nerves and stroked spines with cold spiny tail at the same time "I trust your first reconnaisance was a success, or you all would not be standing here before me. This is good, for the Master is awaiting your collective report at the earliest convenience for you. As it seems you have received more than enough rest from your lackadazical trip, you should give him his information now. Right now, would be highly preferable." She then shooed us from her presence towards a great oaken pair of doors. I hope somewhere I mentioned very few appreciate her personality, but all of us had to respect her level and dedication to her work. One said she was suffering from lack of intimacy, but they way I've seen her around a certain blue dragon I know, I doubt that is the case. Still, all the other Winds of my Liege Employer (the other majordomos) were far easier to deal with. Maybe that is why I was stuck with her - only his supposed best servants had to deal with her on a regular basis, much like paying your dues or constant rite of passage.
Yay me. I already work willingly for a devil and go directly to Hell in order to do it. There was nothing in the contract which mentioned my actually having to -suffer- for my deeds.
Entering his main audience chamber, we found him in his more palatable human form. Just having finished signing a few documents requiring his authorization (for he also owned quite a few lucrative operations on the Prime Material planes of various worlds), he turned to us smiling. His grin was bedazzling, as his voice was robust and enchanting. To think in his normal form would his grin turn fire to frost and his speech would send tendrils of fear into the most stout hearts gave us all pause before we spoke. His welcoming speech to us caught us without warning - as it always seemed to, for it was always something new. Never could I remember it, but his words could send an army of children into the jaws of death screaming with joy if he wanted to. (He never did, for which I am always thankful.) At the end, he guided us to a few of the many waiting couches he had, and pacing across the great hall, began to enquire about the results of our first foray.
As we went through everything we could remember in the most meticulate fashion, he went through his transformation from human to ice-blue winged draconian of twelve-foot wingspan. Without missing a beat or a sentence, did his transformation continue until every scale, every talon was in place. He went between that form, one reminiscent of an angel, his true form, and the human image which he did most of his business in the Prime Material plane in throughout our dissertation on the city - what we had seen of it thus far. While I had not been watching, one of the dwarves had made a general sketch of the place, while the dark elves had made a list of obvious targets and sources of strife within the city limits to be expected. My Liege Employer had chosen well for the rest of the first team, but why me though? That I could not understand. Still, as I gave my version of the events, I recalled something I thought to be important and mentioned it to him: the coversation my companions and I had of removing the city from existence.
"And that is why I like having you along for the reconnaisance when possible, Story. You never forget to factor in those random outside elements which could be used for and against our purposes. The rest of you have done well in your work this day. Story - Tophet... you will I need stay behind a little longer. I wish your conversation with the others in full detail. This is something I did not consider at all, but you all did. It ought not take very long, so then you may also get some sleep in. You will be heading back within the week from one vantage point, while the other teams will be going to observe this new "old city" from other places. You are the last team to have returned, but the first to have left. In fact, you all will remain after all, as there is much I still need to find out about your observations, and why they took so long to achieve."
We had a feeling this was going to take a while. And what made it worse, we were not even thinking about the second reconnaisance, but this drilling about ours thoughts. I took a deep breath before I began, for I knew before the first words left my lips, something had changed in the way we were going to go about this. Sooner or later, we were going to raze the city. Yet, deep in the back of my conscious, I had a feeling we were not going to like the methods we were going to use. Not like the sacrifices of babies or swimming through mounds of rotting flesh, but I knew we were going to regret what we were going to do at the end of it.
Oh well, just as long as weren't dead. Or so I hoped.