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 Dark Sun: Shattered Lands Wikiepedia blurb: Dark Sun: Shattered Lands is a turn-based role-playing video game that takes place in the Dungeons and Dragons' campaign setting of Dark Sun. It was released for MS-DOS in a somewhat unfinished state in 1993 by Strategic Simulations, and later patched to a more workable version. It was available on both floppy disk and CD-ROM, though the CD-ROM contained no additional content and was merely used to install the game to the computer's hard drive. It was later re-released as part of the AD&D Masterpiece Collection in 1996. In addition, Data East was developing console ports for the Sega Saturn and Sony PlayStation for release in 1996, but they were cancelled. The game had a sequel, Dark Sun: Wake of the Ravager, in 1994. An online MMORPG, Dark Sun Online: Crimson Sands, was released in 1996 and hosted on the T.E.N. Network. The game was re-released in 2015 on Gog.com with support for Windows, macOS, and Linux. But What Is This Alright, here's the gimmick: I want to say that my girlfriend and I do this podcast where we adapt video games into an audio drama, using the original music, sound effects, and dialogue from the game itself -- but in truth, it's something we used to do and I'm getting more and more upset that we're not doing it more. We did two games already; Final Fantasy IV and Fallout 1. You can look them up -- I'm not here to plug the podcast and don't want to look like I'm trying to, so I won't link to it but it's on iTunes and whatever, called The Spoony Bard's Aural Theatre. We don't have a Patreon or anything. Anyway, the current state of things is that there is a seven episode script already written for Soul Blazer, and I have all the sound effects, and most of the voices, but at the last minute we decided to rewrite the entire script and now it's taking forever. By which I mean I'm no longer working on that at this moment. So I've switched my attention to another game I wanted to do, Dark Sun: Shattered Lands. I'll tell you why in a moment. First, let me tell you what for what reason I'm creating this thread: Essentially, the product my girlfriend and I have come up with is basically a variation of a Let's Play, which are generally limited to screenshots or video, or commentary or maybe splicing together all the cutscenes. Working on a 100,000+ word script can be a lonely exercise, so I thought maybe I could perhaps use this forum as a place to both share the project and its development, receive input and criticism and aid maybe from people, and most importantly, provide the product to the people, at least in whatever form I'm able to, which in this thread will be limited to just the script. So, goal of this thread: 1. Provide a complete playthrough of Dark Sun: Shattered Lands in audio-drama script form. 2. Provide insight to why certain choices were made or artistic divergence from the script (for more information about why this is important, see the rules below) 3. Adapt the entire script into a serial audio drama, aiming for about an hour long each episode, with voice work and narration. 4. Script completion expectation: March 2019 5. Audio drama completion expectation: July 2019 My Qualifications as a Let's Play Dudester Since I was a kid, I've always been drawn to reinterpretation or creative adaptations. When I was a wee lad I used to collect baseball cards and use them in a weird card game I and my friends made up as we went along. Long before Flash, Macromedia released this program called Action! which was sort of like a proto-Powerpoint, which we just used to make movies. I used to take screenshots from Diablo and Warcraft 2, and using just MS Paint I would cut out characters, alter screenshots. It was easy back then because shadows were just opaque black blobs, so even in MS Paint these were not that hard to doctor. But I think the earliest adaptation of a video game was probably on diabloworld.com, where I used screenshots to recreate the adventure of the game but from the monster's point of view. Anyway, I like to take poo poo apart and put them back together in fun ways, and I didn't really realize it until recently, but this has been my behavior since I was a kid. Alright, guys, I'm going to lay down a dubious fact that you can choose to believe or not believe: (This is taken from a different conversation, and I'm sorry it's not more personalized for this thread but it's kind of a routine but long explanation.) quote:So, obviously the idea of watching someone else play video games might have been around before I started doing it. What I'm referring to, really, has to do with the format of sort of adapting a video game into strictly another kind of format for the purpose of presenting it to the audience, in particular the audience that doesn't even play video games. Holy smokes what! Anyway, whether or not you believe it, I have a more verifiable and helpful asset in that I am neuro-divergent, I guess is the accepted term now, and my brain is calibrated in a way that makes writing a 100,000 word script not really a big deal. The Final Fantasy IV script we wrote was about 80,000 words, the Fallout one 100,000, the Soul Blazer one I wrote was about 60,000 but the rewrite might bump it over 100,000, I don't know. I'm not sure how long Dark Sun is, but I anticipate about a 100,000 word script. Girlfriend wants to write a sweeping epic for Final Fantasy VI and she thinks she can do Chrono Trigger, too. And I've written an outline for a 300,000 + word script that is a Fallout fan fiction (don't judge me!) But what has occupied much of the last few years of my life is a personal memoir that will likely conclude around 1.3 million words, and currently I've got about 900,000 down. Word count is hardly an indicator of quality, but it may be an indicator of my passion for goofy niche stuff. Rules, Boundaries, Limitations! Our podcast, and this project adheres to a few rules that are kind of the foundation of what we do. 1. We don't alter the dialogue. Even if it's weird and badly translated, we use it, because part of this is about revisiting and exploring our nostalgia. Of course, many of these games are Japanese, so one might wonder why we so strongly stick to a script that may not even retain the original sentiment, but since I'm a white guy born in the 80s, that's also the audience I'm kind of aiming for. I mean, not men, and not white people, but people who can share this nostalgia with me, which I guess is more likely to be thirty year old white men. So, for instance, our namesake, "you spoony bard!" which is a weird thing to say, of course we kept it. Now, if a game has multiple translations, maybe we will use one over the other. We did use the PSP game's translation of Final Fantasy IV, because it was itself a really great mix of being a better translation but also keeping some of the lines that made the original SNES Final Fantasy 2 so memorable. 2. We don't know what we don't know! The narrator is not omniscient. The narrator does not infer, UNLESS there is some contextual reason for such inference. Like, we know the princess is in another castle, but Mario doesn't know that, and therefore if the narrator is telling us the story, he also should not know. We don't KNOW how a person is feeling; in particular if it's a really old game and the sprite doesn't have any animation or even another frame to indicate he feels bad, we can't really say that. Instead, what we do is provide context (example: In Final Fantasy IV, in the opening scene Cecil is obviously torn about the events that had just happened, but we only really know this because he looks down, because later we see the flashback, and we've played the game, but most of that is inference; all we see is Cecil bowing his head. Which is sufficient to say, in the narration.) 3. Supplemental material is okay! In Fallout, the manual is this really great Vault-Tec survival manual. It's just the instruction booklet, but it's designed to look like a survival guide, and is written as such. Chris Taylor also wrote the Fallout 2 manual in much the same way. He also wrote the Fallout: Tactics manual but that one was boring. So, anyway, in Fallout we used that manual to help us make some inferences for the character, because it is contextually acceptable that this "Vault-Tec Manual" which inside does indicate is issued to the Vault Dweller, would be held by the Vault Dweller, and therefore the information contained within would be available to both protagonist and narrator. 4. Retain canon! A lot of the games we do, or want to do are rather linear, but not always. Fallout, for instance, has a lot of open gameplay, and a lot of choices that one can make. How do we decide what choices are "canon"? Who are we to decide who is evil and who is good? We get around this (sometimes) by examining everything we can surrounding the characters and relying on first-hand lore where we can find it. Case in point: there are many events that the protagonist does in Fallout 1 that are actually recorded in that person's personal journal, something that isn't actually in Fallout 1 but is in the manual for Fallout 2. Based on this, I was able to determine when certain things happen, some choices that were made, and what order events happened in. I based the personality of the character on the biography included with the premade character. We went with Natalia in Fallout 1, really just because I didn't want to voice the protagonist and at the time it was just my girlfriend and I. (For what it's worth, the premade lawyer character becomes the canonical "Vault Dweller" from Fallout 1 because of nothing more than some decoration or something that shows his face, which is really hard to see but can only be him.) 5. Play the game. Maybe we can take some artistic license in its presentation, but it's important that the game itself is represented in as close to its original as it can under this adaptation. Meaning, we don't 'skip' levels, and we don't cheat or exploit the game to do weird goofy poo poo. Well, I guess that's okay, sometimes, as a wink to the listener, but never in a way that breaks the, ah... integrity of the narrative? I'm not sure how to word it but I think you get what I mean. Consider The Simpsons, which we all know is just a cartoon, but there were times when it would get really cartoony and, yeah, you think, it is a cartoon, but at the same time it feels wrong. Finally, Stuff About This Specific Let's Play Dark Sun: Shattered Lands is an RPG where you (the player) create a party of four and then begin the game. Now, already this poses a slight problem because it expects you to make your own party. I don't know what I expect these characters to be like; I'm trying to adapt a story, not necessarily write a new one. But! There are four premade characters. Now things get weirdly interesting and complicated. The four main characters in the default party are: Gerakis the half-giant, K'Ratchek the thri-kreen, Cermak the human, and Cilla the half-elf. But if you look in the game's manual, it opens with a little bit of flavor lore, a bard by the name of Jareth making observations about the slave pen he is in, and he names four people that he has been observing: Gareth the half-giant, Tarim, the thri-kreen, Seculus the human, Saria the half-elf. I don't know why he writes of four people that appear to be exactly the people who are in the default party, yet their names are different. Perhaps the author of the manual was never informed what the default names would be. In any case, I've decided to go with the names that are in the game; mostly because I think K'Ratchek is a much funner name than Tarim. Personalities and dialogue: This game opens with a really great demonstration of the scope and ambition this game set out for. Your goal for the beginning is just to escape, but there are like five ways to do it, some that require sneaking, others require brute force, whatever. You can ally with different groups, kill different people, loot, steal, sneak, whatever, all within the confines of this gladiatorial slavepen. I just want to say that I can't think of any other game released around this time that allowed for such a nonlinear approach. So, since there are so many ways to beat the level, how would I choose? Some of this will need to just come down to the preference of the writer (me) but I am aided a lot by the characters' personalities. See, in this game, you always have a "lead" party member. I think this is arbitrary except for who gets experience for some things and who is pictured when walking around, and so in dialogue, all your options appear in first person, and I guess it's assumed whomever the party leader is is the one to whom is being spoken. So for the purposes of crafting this narrative that focuses on all four members and not just the one, I've assigned personalities that adhere somewhat to their biographies and maybe just based on who I think I want to voice who and how that might sound. So the conceit of dialogue in here is that whatever personality one might feel behind a chosen line of dialogue will just be assigned to the person best suited, if it fits into the context. Thus, you have Cilla the druid-thief often shouting insults, flippant and snarky. Gerakis is the thoughtful, generally peaceful and knowledge-seeking half-giant. Cermak is angry, on a quest for vengeance. K'Ratchek is indifferent, seeking only pragmatic fulfillment through freedom, material gain, whatever. And so then we don't have any main characters. Canon: This game has a sequel! I never played it, actually I didn't even know about it until I started working on a Let's Play thing. So, I want to look into it, because if certain events must occur, I want to know about them so that this can one day transition into that game, if I ever want to do it. Also, this takes place in a world that has a whole fleshed out universe. It's an entire setting for Dungeons and Dragons. But I'm almost entirely unfamiliar with it. So, I've been heavily consulting the manual, and often times the descriptions of beasts and what not are taken directly from it. Partly this is necessary because the sprites are low resolution and sometimes what looks like an alligator with its brain exposed is actually a wolf with eight eyes. Conceit: The other two projects we did were narrated by just a random nobody, and, as I felt best helped immerse the listener, I insisted they be in present tense. That was how this game was going to go, too, but then when reading the manual, I realized that this Jareth, who is never mentioned ever again, would make a fine conceit for a narrator. So, presumably, all this story is being told by Jareth. But then that also means it needs to be in the past-tense. I have been writing present-tense for so long that it's really hard to switch, so if you see a bunch of present-tense blunders, I guess you can let me know. Oh, and also, one might perceive that much of the time the narration sounds very, uh... procedural? Like, this happens...then this happens...then this happens. Ideally, when mixed, these would be accompanied by music and sound effects, and much of these perfunctory statements are in their own ways cues for a sound effect. credburn fucked around with this message at 12:56 on Dec 6, 2018 |
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Table of Contents and Notes Episode 01: "Untitled Part 1" Episode 01: "Untitled Part 1" Second Half Episode 02: "Untitled Part 2" Episode 02: "Untitled Part 2" Second Half (because of character limitation, each episode will be divided into two posts, one immediately following the next. I say this because I want to avoid confusion, because I'm thinking of making Episode 1 and Episode 2 Parts 1 and 2, which might make more sense if you read it. But I don't want to confuse you, because we might end up talking about Episode 2 Part 1 which is really just Part 3 of Episode 1 Parts 1 and 2.) Episode 1 Notes 1) Needs a title. I like episode titles, but I like them to be consistent. In our Fallout run, the titles were mostly just single word that loosely describes what the episode is about. In Soul Blazer, every episode is just going to be named after the world it takes place in. I'm not sure what this episode should be called, but it needs to be ...Part 1 and ...Part 2. Because see number 2. 2) Episode 2 needs to conclude at roughly the same word count and it also needs to conclude on some kind of note that either establishes finality or a cliffhanger or even just a witty remark. But anyway, Episode 1 and Episode 2 act as one big origin story for the party that will used until the end of the game. 3) The party died! Right, well, technically they did die, and it was a game over. But I wanted to include Mirlon's little weasely side plot, even though we're not going to use it for the purpose of escaping. So, yeah, the party was defeated, and there is toeing the line of our own rules by intentionally save scumming. But while I try to play all this straight, I do like to include the things that make it video gamey, such as dying, loading, whatever. Episode 3 Notes 1) With the death of the announcer at the end, this actually completes a really nice three-episode plot arc. The rest of the game will still be completed, but I'm wondering if this shouldn't stand alone as its own thing. credburn fucked around with this message at 13:18 on Jan 4, 2019 |
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Episode One, Part One (because there is a 50,000 character limit that I barely stepped over) JARETH’S JOURNAL JARETH: I am Jareth, an itinerant bard, lately of Draj. I had the dubious honor of spending time condemned to the arena – a noble whom I poisoned regretfully survived. Thankfully, my family was able to bribe a templar with some magic fruit. JARETH: While locked in the slave pens, I was able to learn about the other slaves’ lives. These illuminate the great challenges of surviving in Draj. The slave most philosophical about his plight was a half-giant named Gareth. A gladiator of some repute, he had own many matches for the noble house of Tehuactl. He also had a misguided loyalty to his master. Thus when a templar came and suggested he lose his next match, Gareth broke the templar’s neck. In return, his master declared this an escape attempt and condemned him to die in the royal slave pens. He is still not bitter, but now seeks to escape to freedom. JARETH: One of the most bizarre prisoners is the thri-kreen, Tarim. She had been haunting city troops on the salt flats west of Draj, when she was trapped by a powerful templar. Rather than kill her outright, the templar sent her to the arena, so that her death could entertain the masses. While she doesn’t mind the fight, she misses the hunt and the freedom of the wasteland. JARETH: Selucus was a favorite of the sorcerer-king, destined to become one of the great gladiators of his time. He was pampered and allowed to spend time unescorted in the city. Alas, his brilliance led him to temptation. The Veiled Alliance convinced him to learn the ways of the preservers. Foolishly, he set aside his gladiator’s weapons and took to the arcane path of magic. His masters were shocked and condemned him to the slave pens. I believe they hope to force him to return to his gladiatorial skills to survive. However, I am sure he will not do so until he has mastered the spells of the preserver. JARETH: The beautiful Saria is the offspring of a foolish human slave girl and a roguish elven caravan master. Her father left for other cities before she was born. Saria spent her youth on the street, stealing to survive. Before this life could wear her down, she was caught picking a preserver’s pocket. He took her out of the city and trained her in the east, near the volcano. She discovered peace amidst the harsh landscape. She learned to call on the spirits of earth, as well as how to master the preserver’s dangerous art. She might have stayed forever, but a slaver band captured her and killed her benefactor. At the auction block, she used her spells to slay a templar. Now she lives in the pens, seeking a way back to the wasteland. JARETH: Those condemned to slavery without connections such as mine can only find freedom by fleeing into the wilderness. Travelers tell me of whole villages of freed slaves, eking out an existence near small watering holes. Individually, these villages are so weak that a city patrol or band of raiders could wipe them out with ease. JARETH: There are very few slaves that have any planing or leadership ability. I believe that a strong personality could unify them into a dangerous force. I know that the Drajian templars are beginning to share this view. I have heard rumors of a punitive expedition to clear the wastes of these villages all the way to the Silt Sea. NARRATOR: The missive read, By order of the Mighty and Omnipotent King Tectuktitlay, all slaves fit to carry a sword shall fight in the arena. Death shall be the gladiators’ payment for weakness. Let the games begin!” It was a tattered note, its dry edges frayed and in many places torn, but there was a wax seal in the lower right corner stamped by the head templar Pehtucl that declared such things, independent of its otherwise shoddy appearance, an official document of King Tectuktitlay. NARRATOR: And so these four slaves, fit to carry a sword, were sent to the arena. In a narrow stone tunnel with only the sandy earth for a floor they waited in the darkness. Then a large wooden gate began to rise, and light poured in, sailing along waves of applause and the crowd’s zealous fervor. NARRATOR: They stepped out of the tunnel, into a pen with walls made up of the massive and sharp tusks of some enormous beast. The tunnel behind them was beset by decorative reliefs of large, fierce serpents carved out of a deep red rock. They stood yet in the shadow of a balcony upon which a man in green vestments watched. NARRATOR: The announcer spoke. ANNOUNCER: This day the mage Celgor will battle a fearsome rampager. Watch and enjoy! ANNOUNCER: Do not worry, Gerakis. Your turn will come soon. Stand back and watch the battle. NARRATOR: Gerakis, the half-giant took a step forward and looked on toward the center of the area, where on a series of flat, square stones embedded within the wavy sand, a bald man with a white beard wearing a tattered cloak and the barest of protection faced off against three brutal creatures: two sligs, frog-like cousins of goblins and hobgoblins, also something of a diminutive variation of a slaag, and a so-ut, more commonly known as a rampager, a huge six-legged creature with gray scales covering their whole bodies. NARRATOR: The mage, a man apparently by the name of Celgor cast a spell, blasting the monsters with a cloud of ice. The barrage of frozen crystals tore apart one of the sligs, killing it immediately. The rampager was also caught in the cold blast, but its tough armor shrugged off the icy assault. NARRATOR: The four slaves-turned-gladiators watching the unfair fight saw that the mage Celgor was in fact a defiler, a pursuer of what the Veiled Alliance consider the worst imaginable evil. Magical and moral philosophies aside, a defiler can make for a powerful combatant, as indicated by the man’s command of cold magic. NARRATOR: The remaining slig was untouched by the cold blast and outpaced the rampager, reaching Celgor before he could cast a second spell at the monsters. The slig took a deadly swipe at the mage, tearing right through his thin armor. NARRATOR: Injured and desperate, Celgor let loose a second blast of ice, encapsulating the slig in a torrent of frozen malice. The slig was slain on the spot, disintegrating into a cloud of frozen particles. Celgor retreated further from the lumbering rampager, but the huge beast was quick, lunging over the sand in its long strides. The mage died there, torn apart by the so-ut to the joy of the crowd. ANNOUNCER: Gladiators! Step forward, into the arena! NARRATOR: The party of four stepped beneath an archway made of bone and ivory. Suddenly, a gate slammed shut, eliminating the possibility of retreat. ANNOUNCER: Citizens of Draj! ANNOUNCER: Before you is a handful of gladiators. Watch and be entertained as they fight to the death with the denizens of our land. ANNOUNCER: Behold the gift of your king Tectuktitlay, vicious defender of Draj – the gift of battle and death! ANNOUNCER: Monster Trainer, release your horde! NARRATOR: From somewhere to the west, the monster trainer did as instructed and a team of monsters came rushing across the sand, three sligs in a line and a lone screamer beetle, a deceptively beautiful creature with multi-colored chitinous shells prized by art collectors and alchemists, capable of deadly psionic blasts. NARRATOR: The monsters came too quickly and the party was unable to arrange itself into a proper formation. When the combat began, Gerakis, the half-giant gladiator-by-profession was in the back, while the others faced off against their opponents. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek, the Thri-Kreen was the first to act. She was a six-limbed insectoid fighter druid standing seven feet at the shoulder with a sandy-yellow exoskeleton. She, as was the way of the Thri-Kreen wielded the chatkcha, a crystalline throwing wedge that returned to her hand once it reached its target – or even if she missed. The Thri-Kreen were particularly adept at psionic abilities, and K’Ratchek has access to a multitude of the spells from both psionic and clerical schools, and strong psionic defenses as well. NARRATOR: The Thri-Kreen took a few steps back, onto a large arrangement of flat stones adorned with geometric etchings – a similar platform upon which the defiler Celgor had been mauled to death upon only moments ago. K’Ratchek let fly her chatkcha, slamming into the screamer beetle. It took some damage, but wasn’t killed, and then the sligs and beetle were upon them all. NARRATOR: Gerakis, wielding a bone long sword in one hand and a wooden club in the other stepped between K’Ratchek and the slig and laid into the monster with all the strength of his half-giant heritage behind it. The sword cut the creature deep, and the followup smash from the club destroyed it. As the creature fell, Gerakis noticed movement coming from something in the southern part of the arena – it was a bird, perched upon one of two wooden poles to which a person’s wrist was bound. The bird appeared to be waiting for the man to die. NARRATOR: Distracted by the sight of the helpless man, a slig managed to take two accurate, if weak strikes against the half-giant. Cilla, the half-elf managed to dance between the strikes of the sligs and maneuvered her way out of the thick of battle. She loosed a projectile from her sling at the screamer beetle, hitting it, but not for much damage. NARRATOR: Though Cermak had been a recent devotee to the ways of the preserver, he had prior been a gladiator of note. Though armed with just a staff, he could make deadly use of it. Knowing the potential danger of the screamer beetle, Cermak thrust the blunt instrument against the screamer beetle, doing more light damage to it. A slig struck Cermak as Cilla moved closer to strike the beetle again with a precise blow from her sling. NARRATOR: The strongest of the four gladiators, Gerakis stepped forward and dealt two might blows against the beetle, finishing off the huge insect before it could unleash any of its deadly magic upon the party. Then he turned right to the slig next to him and smashed it to death. K’Ratchek attempted to use a psionic blast against the slig, but it was to no effect. The slig ran forward and managed a light blow against Cilla, and then was set upon by the combined efforts of Gerakis and Cermak. NARRATOR: The gladiators have only a moment of reprieve before the announcer speaks up over the roar of the crowd. ANNOUNCER: That was too easy. Perhaps these monsters would be more of a challenge! NARRATOR: From the East come a horde of new opponents, two sand howlers, two tohr-kreen, and a screamer beetle. The tohr-kreen was the male counter to the thri-kreen, trained as mantis warriors and capable of quick, rapid assaults from their four limbs and even a biting attack that can paralyze their opponent. Sand howlers were light-brown lizardlike creatures that somewhat resembled dogs but for their eight terrible eyes that could paralyze a person, and their large yellow tusks. They were rarely found in the wild, having been domesticated for the specific use of hunting down escaped slaves. They got their name from the screams they wail as they hunt their prey. NARRATOR: Only Cilla had suffered any potentially dangerous wounds. She stepped away from the approaching monsters and cast the spell Cure Light Wounds upon herself. Her wounds lessened, but not by much, and she had to cast it a second time. K’Ratchek dove into battle, meeting her male counterpart. They tangled, all eight limbs, but K’Ratchek proved the stronger by far, and she went on to assail the next. NARRATOR: The sand howlers rushed to surround and nip at the knees of the massive half-giant Gerakis, to which he responded by slashing them with his bone sword and crushing them with his club. The screamer beetle attempted several psychic assaults against the party, but all hit by the psionnic blasts were unaffected. Cilla and Cermak at last slew the beetle from afar using their slings. ANNOUNCER: (Anxiously) Attention gladiators! Go back to the pens to heal your wounds. The citizens of Draj grow impatient with delays. NARRATOR: As if to reject the announcer’s opinion of their mood, the citizens of Draj responded by throwing money down into the sandy arena. ANNOUNCER: Luck seems to be on the side of the gladiators this day. CILLA: That wasn’t luck. NARRATOR: Cermak stepped forward and addressed the announcer directly. CERMAK: You’re lucky I let you live! NARRATOR: Meanwhile the thri-kreen K’Ratchek scooped up the nearby coins. ANNOUNCER: What?! You upstarts! Take this! Monster Trainer: Release the monsters! NARRATOR: The Western gate opened and out poured three writhing horrors made up of teeth, tentacles and spines. They were otyughs, also known as gulguthra, terrifying creatures that lurk in heaps of dung and decay, waiting for something to disturb them. They attack with two ridged tentacles which can smash their prey or grapple them to death. NARRATOR: First to act was Cilla, who cast entangle over a wide circle that encompassed all three otyughs and, consequently, also the slave already bound to the wooden stakes. A thick bed of vegetation miraculously sprouted all around the legs, and tentacles, and tarsi. The bird was not disturbed. NARRATOR: The lead otyugh lunged toward the half-elf, only to become ensnared as its tentacles entangled themselves in the creeping vines. Gerakis stepped forward to take advantage of the otyugh’s state, but the creature was yet able to lash out at the half-giant. Gerakis took two weak hits from the slig, and he retaliated by annihilating the monster with two destructive assaults from his weapons. ANNOUNCER: Ooh, good hit! NARRATOR: The remaining otyughs tried to advance on the party but could barely tear themselves from one patch of vines before another entangled them once more. Cilla, out of the reach of the vines cast the spell of fear on the otyugh in the back. It successfully channeled the terror in the creature, and against the binds keeping him grounded he fought to retreat. The otyugh closest to the party, having managed to cross half the bed of vines keeping it from its target, received a powerful blow from K’Ratchek’s chatkcha followed by Gerakis’s double-assault, killing it. NARRATOR: The remaining otyugh broke free from the rooted vines and ran across the sand, stopping just on the other side of a large red stone. Cermak and Cilla, not wanting to attempt to cross the field of vines, fired at the distant monster with their slings, but it was not effective. The otyugh stopped its retreat, seemingly broken from the fear spell. It turned around and charged back into battle, but Cermak and Cilla loosed their stones at it as it advanced, and then K’Ratchek joined the barrage with her chatkcha. The creature became entangled in the vines, and was slain before even reaching the party. NARRATOR: The crowd then began chanting the names of their favored gladiators, tossing money down to the arena floor. Cermak ignored the crowd and their praise, and fought his way through the vines toward the bound prisoner while the announcer attempted to goad them on. ANNOUNCER: Enjoy your victory while you can! You will eventually meet your match! NARRATOR: Cermak opted not to yell anything back at the announcer, instead focusing on the prisoner. He attempted to speak to him, but the prisoner was barely able to eke out more than a few words. PRISONER 1: Uunh… help…. Water… just a little…. CERMAK: I’ll untie you! NARRATOR: Cermak worked the knots loose from the binds, but as soon as he did, the body fell to the ground lifelessly. Cermak checked the body; the prisoner was dead. Cermak returned to the party, slowly working through the vines, while the vulture still sat atop the stake, waiting for everyone to leave so it could peck at the corpse. While this happened, K’Ratchek discovered the body of a slain gladiator, and on its person was a spear, which she took. NARRATOR: The announcer repeated his earlier cry. ANNOUNCER: Attention gladiators! Go back to the pens to heal your wounds. The citizens of Draj grow impatient with delays. NARRATOR: And yet still the crowd, so impressed by the performance, threw even more money. The party was exhausted, each member having suffered some injury during the battle. Gerakis took the most damage, enduring wounds that would have killed a lesser man three times over. Disheartened by the bound man who could not be saved and the very real need to follow the announcer’s advice and heal their wounds, the party regathered at the gate, K’Ratchek having picked up the money along the way. The bone arch was open to them, they stepped through. It shut behind them, and so there was nowhere else to go but back into the dark passage to the slave pens. Before they ventured down, Cermak saw that to the East another man was bound to stakes, waiting for the slow passage of time to claim him. But there was nothing that could be done for the man, now. He followed his party into the dark tunnel. NARRATOR: The slave pens were a series of well-built stone-brick corridors and alcoves, small cells with simple piles of hay that function as beds. An armored guard was there to greet them, a squat man with short, blonde hair. KURZAK: These are the slavepens. I’m Kurzak, leader of the guards. Follow me, I’m here to lead you to your cell. NARRATOR: The slaves follow along behind Kurzak. The half-giant Gerakis, huge and devastating in the arena was otherwise a kind and inquisitive man. He attempted to make conversation with Kurzak. GERAKIS: Tell me about your job. KURZAK: Guard work is pretty routine. I take ‘em to the arena. Sometimes I bring ‘em back to the pens. It beats working on the pyramid. GERAKIS: Working on the pyramid? KURZAK: Yes. That’s where most of the people are working. GERAKIS: Why is the pyramid being built? KURZAK: The pyramid is being built for the sorcerer-king. Everything’s been slowed down since his disappearance. But that’s all you’re entitled to know. NARRATOR: Kurzak led them down the spacious hall. The far wall was adorned with a plethora of banners of different colors and designs. Every few yards, a brazier was alight, filling the pens with light and warmth. Standing before the banners and braziers was a huge man in leather armor. CILLA: Who is the half-giant? KURZAK: Oh, that’s the monster trainer. His name is Legcrusher. He’s not too bright, but he’s good with monsters. NARRATOR: They turned south, toward an intersection with two doors. Cermak looked all around him for any sign of weakness in the building’s structure, but he could find none. He attempted to gleam information from the head guard that could reveal a potential escape from this place. CERMAK: You must not get paid well. KURZAK: I’m compensated by my love of my work. NARRATOR: Before Cermak can respond, Cilla scoffs at Kurzak. CILLA: (Disgusted) You love your work? KURZAK: Aye, I enjoy seeing you fight in the arena. It’s not the worst life. Now get moving! NARRATOR: They continue their march until they reach a door. Kurzak steps forward and opens it. KURZAK: All right, go through the door. There’s a place to rest down the east hall. KURZAK: I’ll come get you when it’s time for your next fight. If you want to fight before that, knock on the door. NARRATOR: They passed through the door and ventured into the cramped and dirty inner region of the slavepens with its dirty stone floor and orange brick walls. Walking down a hallway, they passed by cells on either side, encasing discarded junk, piles of straw for beds, and the occasional slave-turned-gladiator. NARRATOR: A happy man with long, brown hair bound by a blue headband passed the party. He stopped, took notice of the party and walked over to address them. TRUSTEE: So you’re the new gladiators. Pretty scrawny. You should be thankful you’re here and not in the villages. Did I ever tell you about how I got to be the Trustee? NARRATOR: None of these gladiators had ever met this man before. CERMAK: No? TRUSTEE: After a contest, I was escorted back here, when a stalker broke out. It attacked the leader of the guards, who was petrified. I grabbed the longsword he dropped, and slew the stalker. The main guard let me stay on as a helper here in the pens. NARRATOR: Gerakis interjected. GERAKIS: What villages? TRUSTEE: Did I mention the villages? There are groups of free peoples who have banded together over the years. The city hates ‘em ‘cause they work harder than city gfolk and won’t buckle under Tectuktitlay. NARRATOR: Cilla spoke up, then. CILLA: Anyone ever get out of here? TRUSTEE: Sure. They get dragged off to fertilize the fields every day. CILLA: Does anyone ever get out of here alive? TRUSTEE: Some do. Guards claim to get them all, but I know some make it. They have to hide out in the desert though. The templars would catch them in the city. CILLA: How well-guarded is this place? TRUSTEE: Guarded as well as any slavepen is guarded. Although I have heard rumors of people escaping in my years here. CILLA: How many guards are here? TRUSTEE: Lately, there haven’t been as many. Guards are being moved out, a few at a time. GERAKIS: Why are the guards being moved? TRUSTEE: I don’t know. But the army has been training extensively. CERMAK: Who are the leaders of the slavepens? TRUSTEE: A templar makes all the major decisions, like who fights in the arena. Kurzak is the head guard. Other than that, they’re just other serfs doing various jobs. NARRATOR: The normally quiet K’Ratchek then made an inquiry to the trustee. K’RATCHEK: Can any of the guards be bribed? TRUSTEE: Kurzak, the one who takes you to the arena, likes money. Don’t expect too much from him, though. Takes more money than you have to buy freedom. NARRATOR: In a cell to the East was a person worn away to only bones, its flimsy remains barely held together by the arm and leg irons that bound him to this place. NARRATOR: Gerakis asked about the inhabitants of the slavepens. The trustee seemed overly willing to share all the information he had on all the gladiators. TRUSTEE: Gilal is the woman who sits by herself. Scar and his gang are in the cell in the southwest. Merzol and his gangs inhabit the northeast. Dinos has a special cell in the southwest. Mirlon, the little weasel, is in a room to the west. GERAKIS: What can you tell me about Scar? TRUSTEE: Scar’s the toughest gladiator around, and the crowd’s favorite in the arena. He rules the inner slavepens. GERAKIS: What can you tell me about Merzol? TRUSTEE: He’s a tough warrior, but not too bright. His gang is loyal, composed of some of the best gladiators in the arena. He would be kind of the pens, but Scar’s gang is more disciplined and works as a team. NARRATOR: Cermak inquires about the one the trustee called a weasel. TRUSTEE: Mirlon’s ambitious, but he’s a little fungus. Acts all sweet and friendly ‘til he can make some money off you. He’d sell his brother for five ceramics. NARRATOR: Cilla addresses the trustee. CILLA: Tell me about Dinos. TRUSTEE: Dinos is an extraordinary cook. When the templar of the pens caught wind of his talents, Dinos was taken as his personal chef. Dinos hasn’t fought in the arena since. He was moved into a suits of rooms to the south. NARRATOR: There was more places to explore, more people to meet, but the party had endured much bruising and exhaustion in the arena, and, also, enduring the Trustee. They found their way to the little cell they shared, lit a small fire and rested. NARRATOR: After a brief rest, the party left the cell and traveled farther up the corridor. In the next cell a group of slaves could be overheard conspiring. From the hall, Cilla edged close to the next room and listened in. MERZOL’S THUG 1: Did you stash the stuff in the haystack? MERZOL: Quiet – someone’s outside the door! NARRATOR: Having been found out, Cilla stepped into the corridor leading into the cell. Cilla introduced herself. CILLA: I’m Cilla. MERZOL: What do I care what your name is? I’m Merzol, and I’m the toughest son-of-a-rampager you’ll ever meet! Go talk to Scar and his men – maybe they could use some raw recruits, ha! NARRATOR: Merzol, for all his bluster, did not appear to Cilla to be a particularly impressive or imposing figure in the slavepens. He was guarded by three men, and together they all appeared formidable, but they were loud, overly confident, and sloppy. CILLA: What did you stash in the haystack? MERZOL: Uhh… haystack? What haystack? Oh… that haystack. What a minute! Why do you think there’s something in the haystack! You spying on us? CILLA: I overheard your conversation. MERZOL: You were listening in on our conversation? If I ever catch you doing that again, I’ll have to kill you! NARRATOR: Cilla looked to the man she had overheard earlier. MERZOL’S THUG 1: Don’t talk to me – talk to Merzol. NARRATOR: And the other thug had nothing to offer, either. MERZOL’S THUG 2: The Boss is the one you want to talk to. NARRATOR: Finding nothing here to be helpful, Cilla left. Just as she did, she could already hear them loudly making secret plans. MERZOL’S THUG 1: Is it time to break out yet? MERZOL: Shh, not yet! NARRATOR: There came a shout from the front of the slavepens. KURZAK: Gerakis! Cilla! Cermak! K’Ratchek! Get up here! It’s your turn in the arena! NARRATOR: So soon after their last fight, already they were sent back out to appease the bloodthirsty patrons. Leaving behind these conspirators, the party returned to the front of the slavepen where the head guard, Kurzak, waited. KURZAK: Good thing you got here. I thought I was going to have to send out Legcrusher. The crowd is waiting! Get moving! NARRATOR: The gladiators followed Kurzak down the long corridor toward the arena. The huge half-giant Legcrusher was there, watching the party move on. Gerakis approached him, hoping their common race would aid in conversation, but Legcrusher was not interested. LEGCRUSHER: It’s Kurzak you want to talk to. I’m just the monster trainer. GERAKIS: What am I fighting next? LEGCRUSHER: They’ll throw some muls and halflings at you, I suppose. NARRATOR: Kurzak stood waiting by the exit. He opened the door leading out. KURZAK: Give us a good show – draw the battle out enough to make it interesting. NARRATOR: They checked their equipment before heading out. They didn’t have much – mostly bone swords, clubs, and maybe an obsidian knife. Their only opportunity to get better equipment here would be to take it off those they killed in the arena. They stepped out into the light. NARRATOR: They emerged into the bone-wall enclosure, and walked to the other side, and through the bone archway. It slammed shut behind them, and the announcer spoke. ANNOUNCER: Citizens of Draj! Behold these gladiators as they fight in melee with the terrible beasts that exist beyond our walls. Thank your king Tectuktitlay for his protection. ANNOUNCER: Hail our lord master, the great Tectuktitlay – whose protective wings smother us all in their malignant glory! NARRATOR: With a roar from the crowd, the battle began. From the West came three halflings, diminutive humanoids about 3 1/2 feet tall, proportioned like humans but very muscular and with the faces of children. These renegade halfings were accompanied by a wild mul, a cross-breed of humans and dwarves, retaining the height of their human heritage and the strength of their dwarven. They are dull things bred for the purpose of gladiatorial combat. The two parties clashed on the flat stones half-buried within the sand. NARRATOR: Gerakis was the first to act. His huge stride quickly closed the gap between he and the halflings. He made three massive strikes against one of the renegades, alternating between his club in his left hand and the bone long sword in his right. The halfling was beaten to death before anyone else had a chance to intervene. NARRATOR: Cermak struck out at the mul and missed. Cilla also stabbed at the same foe using the long reach of a bone gythka. It is K’Ratchek and her flurry of claws that rake apart the mul. The two remaining halflings strike out at Cermak and Cilla with their bone swords, but they do little damage. Gerakis, towering over the small renegades, clubs them both to death from behind. The fight is over quickly, more of a massacre than a battle. ANNOUNCER: Attention gladiators! Go back to the pens to heal your wounds. The citizens of Draj grow impatient with delays. NARRATOR: The crowd responded by throwing money into the pit. K’Ratchet casually walked over and collected the ceramics while Cermak hurried to the Northwest to see about the bound man. ANNOUNCER: Citizens of Draj, these pathetic, wretched, sorry excuses for gladiators are not our only entertainment – do not worry! Real warriors will be fighting later today. NARRATOR: Cermak turned to face the announcer and shouted back at him. CERMAK: I am a real warrior and I’ll prove it! ANNOUNCER: Perhaps these monsters would be more of a challenge! NARRATOR: From the West poured a quintet of creatures – two low-threat sligs, a strine, a four-foot long creature that resembled an armored porcupine, and a pair of daggorans, huge frog-like things similar to the slig but gold with a green crystalline growth between their shoulders. These creatures were more likely to prove a challenge to the party than the starved and desperate halfings – the daggoran in particular were capable of potentially devastating, explosive psionic attacks. NARRATOR: Cilla was first to act, once more stepping into the back, behind the half-giant Gerakis and gladiator-mage Cermak. She blessed the party with a cloud of glowing purple light. Cermak returned from where he had been shouting at the Announcer and, using the little knowledge he had gained in his pursuit of the magical arts – that pursuit which was the cause of his incarceration – he cast a spell which covered a wide swatch of sand with a slippery layer of grease. The charging sligs and the strine fell upon this trap one by one. K’Ratchek dove upon them while Gerakis fended off the daggorans. ANNOUNCER: Ooh, good hit! NARRATOR: While Gerakis battled the daggorans and K’Ratchek fought both sligs, Cilla and Gerakis launched magic missiles at the strine. The grease ensured the sligs could not advance past the insectoid. Soon the daggorans were killed by the half-giant, and the sligs slain by the thri-kreen. Even the announcer could not restrain his admiration. ANNOUNCER: Maybe they’re acceptable gladiators after all. NARRATOR: They all fell upon the strine. It did manage to lash out and almost end the poor half-giant’s life. Tough as he was, a daggoran is a dangerous creature by itself, and he fought off two. He was lucky they didn’t blast him with psionics. The last blow to the strine came at the end of a series of strikes from K’Ratchek. It collapsed to the ground, its head half-sunken in the grease and sand underneath. ANNOUNCER: Not a surprise the monster died! It had been sick anyway. It could barely stand, it was so weak. NARRATOR: But the announcer’s voice was drowned out by the cheering crowd. They threw money to the sand. They chanted the names of the fighters. The announcer tried to downplay their ability. ANNOUNCER: Luck seems to be on the side of the gladiators this day. NARRATOR: But still the crowd chanted. And they threw money. Nine foes slain and not one of them had died. They fought in such a coordinated manner that it was as though they were all controlled by a single entity, observing the battle play out from above. It was probably here that the notoriety of this oddly capable group of gladiators began to really spread, and catch the attention of a certain templar of rather dubious moral guidance. NARRATOR: For the time being, Cermak stared down the announcer, deciding whether or not to shout anything back. Cilla went about looking the corpses while K’Ratchet picked up the money being thrown about. Gerakis meanwhile was at death’s door. NARRATOR: As much as he wanted to, Cermak did not yell back. ANNOUNCER: Attention gladiators! Go back to the pens to heal your wounds. The citizens of Draj grow impatient with delays. NARRATOR: Cermak hurried over to the bound man. SEMYON: Help me please! CERMAK: I’ll free you! NARRATOR: Cermak cut him free from his bonds. He collapsed into the sand, not unlike the last. Cermak went to his aid. SEMYON: (Weaker) Help me please! Uunh… help…. Water… just a little…. CERMAK: I’m Cermak. Where can I get water? SEMYON: I… I… who are you? Uunnhh
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Dec 6, 2018 10:50
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Episode One: Second Half NARRATOR: There was no water to find in the arena, and even the generous crowd was likely to get bored before Cermak could get water to the man. For now, the man was unbound, but how long could he remain there before dehydration took him? Cermak rejoined the others within the bone enclosure and descended the stairs back into the slavepens. NARRATOR: Kurzak was waiting for them. He saw the many battle wounds inflicted on the party. KURZAK: Let’s get you back to the ‘pens. You obviously need some rest. NARRATOR: Kurzak walked on ahead, confident the gladiators would not make any trouble in their injured state. As they passed Legcrusher, Cilla stepped up to the half-giant. LEGCRUSHER: It’s Kurzak you want to talk to. I’m just the monster trainer. NARRATOR: Cilla quietly made an inquiry. CILLA: How can I get out of here? LEGCRUSHER: I dunno. CILLA: (Annoyed) What are we fighting next? LEGCRUSHER: I dunno. It’s too early to tell. NARRATOR: The party rejoined Kurzak at the door to the ‘pens. KURZAK: All right, go through the door. There’s a place to rest down the east hall. I’ll come get you when it’s time for your next fight. If you want to fight before that, knock on the door. NARRATOR: Before the door shut, Cermak addressed Kurzak. CERMAK: Could you get me some water? KURZAK: I’m not your water boy! However, I could sell you an empty flask if you’ve got 40 ceramic pieces. NARRATOR: Cermak considered the guard’s deal for a moment, deciding whether or not it was worth the effort of haggling with the guard, but turned down the offer instead. They had the ceramics, but Kurzak had complete power over the gladiators and there was nothing to guarantee Kurzak would come through. He didn’t seem like a person to do favors. NARRATOR: Too exhausted to do anything else, the party returned to their cell, lit a fire, and rested. NARRATOR: When they woke, Cermak went about locating water, and a means to bring it out to the bound prisoner outside, if was even still living. Finally, one of them had the idea that Dinos, the cook Trustee had mentioned before, would have access to water. The party traveled to the southernmost part of the ‘pens, but the door was locked. NARRATOR: Dejected, Cermak and the others set out to locate water elsewhere. By chance, Trustee was then making his rounds. Cilla spoke to Trustee, cutting off Cermak before his aggression could get the better of him. Trustee stopped what he was doing and watched Cilla approach. CILLA: (Somewhat flirty?) How can I get to Dinos? TRUSTEE: (Reluctant) I have a key. Go south – I’ll be there in a second. Would you like to meet Dinos? CILLA: Yes. NARRATOR: The trustee departed, heading toward the north to do whatever it was he did. The party of four cautiously ventured south, passing by cells on either side. To the west a ratty, dirty cell contained a skeleton, still wrapped in the tattered rags it wore. To the east was a very small cell but with two piles of straw. Farther down they passed by some of the gladiators they had not yet met. NARRATOR: At the end of a long hall, they arrived at the southernmost door. Trustee arrived not long after. He stepped up to the door, slipped a key into its lock, and popped it open. TRUSTEE: Okay, it’s open. Don’t tell anyone I did this for you! I’m going to get back to work. NARRATOR: The party ventured into Dinos’s opulant suite. Immediately beyond the door was a small hallway with corridors venturing off to the East and West, but what may have first caught the eye of anyone stepping into this place was the decorate rug, shiny and bright on the floor, a stark contrast to the filth in which others were forced to live only yards away. NARRATOR: They stepped into the Western vestibule. A green stone table stood before a soft, cushioned chair, and next to that was, in lieu of the usual pile of straw masquerading as a bed was – a bed, and one big enough for two. Standing next to it, looking very clean was the man who must be Dinos. DINOS: I am Dinos. You must be new here. NARRATOR: Gerakis, who was one of now two half-giants in the slavepens addressed Dinos. GERAKIS: How could you tell? DINOS: Let’s just say you look a little wet behind the ears. Not that I’m anyone to talk. NARRATOR: Cermak looked Dinos over. He was a lithe man, with sunken cheeks, small lips and no chin. His face was clean-shaven and his eyebrows might have been manicured. He didn’t seem like any kind of fighter, or anyone who would commit such a crime as to be sent here. CERMAK: Why are you in here? DINOS: I was a chef at the Red Plume Inn in Draj. A high templar asked for the best meal in the house, which was hafilon. The templar was allergic to hafilon, and assumed that I was trying to cause him an undue illness. I was immediately arrested. CILLA: Why is your cell so nice? DINOS: I cook for the head templar, so he makes sure that I’m not killed by the others. It may be a nice room, but I am locked I here. CILLA: Have you fought in the arena? DINOS: Heavens, no, I haven’t fought in the arena! I’m not a gladiator. They would be wasting my talents if I were put into the arena. I’m too good a chef and they know that. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek raised a question. K’RATCHEK: How long have you been here? DINOS: I’ve been in here for about a year, and let me tell you, the food is great. DINOS: If you ever have any questions about anyone in here, I should be the first person you ask. I know everything about everyone. The guy who walks around the cells is the Trustee. There are two gangs: Merzol’s and Scar’s. There are also Mirlon and Gilal, who keep to themselves. NARRATOR: (Fade Dinos after “everyone” As Dinos named off all the people he knew here, names the party had already heard, the image of the bound man outside came to Cermak. CERMAK: (Interrupting) Where could I get some water? DINOS: There’s a water trough in the room east of here. Just dip the empty pot in and fill it. NARRATOR: Cermak walked into the next room where a chair sat before a wooden table filled with pots and pans and bowls. A furnace was ablaze in the corner next to some clay pots. Beyond that was a large trough filled with fresh looking water. Cermak dipped a clay pot into the water, filling it. He returned to the main room and rejoined the party, who were asking Dinos about the other inhabitants of the slavepen. DINOS: Gilal is an interesting case. At one point, she was fine. Then she was gone for a few days, and she hasn’t been the same since. It’s a shame to see someone in that state. She can’t remember anything past one day. She doesn’t even know who I am. NARRATOR: While Dinos continued talking about the various people in the pens, Cilla slipped over to the large wardrobe and searched through it. Rummaging through the cabinet, she found a message carved in the wood: ‘Don’t trust Pehtucl.’ DINOS: Mirlon just got in here. No one has really talked to him yet. Find out what you can, and let me know. DINOS: Scar and his gang are the strongest fighting gladiators in the slavepens. They were ordained ‘Kings of the Pens’ eight months ago when they defeated a dozen mountain stalkers, something no other fighting group had done. DINOS: The Trustee is an old ex-gladiator. A mountain stalker attacked him and the head trainer. Trustee slew the beast, saving the head trainre’s life, but was severely crippled. The trainer allowed Trustee to stay on in the pens as a handyman. NARRATOR: Beyond Dinos was a strong looking door. K’Ratchek casually walked toward it. DINOS: Oh, that door leads to the fountain and the head templar. Only the Trustee, the head templar, and Kurzak have keys. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek attempted to open the door, anyway, but it was locked. NARRATOR: The party left this extravagant cell with new knowledge and also a jug of water. As they walked the corridor between cells, Cilla told the party of the message etched into the wardrobe. For the time being there was not much that could be done with that information, but they felt it could be important later. NARRATOR: Back toward their own cell, they discovered a pale-skinned blonde woman sitting on the pile of straw that was her bed. This was Gilal, a woman Dinos said hasn’t been the same since she was taken away for a short while. NARRATOR: Cermak cautiously stepped into the open cell and greeted her. GILAL: Hello. Who are you and what do you want? CERMAK: I’m Cermak. GILAL: It’s nice to meet you, Cermak. I’m Gilal. CERMAK: Why are you in here? GILAL: I stole a load of bread to feed my family. They were starving. I had no other choice. A neighbor turned me in for the reward money. His family was starving, too. CERMAK: How long have you been in here? GILAL: I’ve been here for a couple of months. CERMAK: Have you fought in the arena? GILAL: After I was arrested, I was immediately thrown into the arena with five other gladiators to fight a pack of screamer beetles. I was the only survivor. Luckily, I haven’t fought since. CERMAK: What creatures do gladiators fight? GILAL: Initially, all you fight are screamer beetles and sligs. Later, they throw some wild muls and renegade halflings at you. Once you get really good, they start putting you in with things like Mountain Stalkers. I’m glad I never got that far – I wouldn’t have survived it. NARRATOR: In her cell there was nothing more than herself, Cermak, and the pile of straw. From what the party had observed so far, it seemed that there wasn’t much more one could aspire to obtain here, unless they were someone like Dinos. GILAL: Draj’s gladiators may be respected, but we still sleep on the cold ground. NARRATOR: Cilla stepped forward to make an inquiry. CILLA: Who else is in the slavepens? GILAL: The only other person I’ve talked to is Trustee. CILLA: Are there many guards here? GILAL: I’m not sure. I was brought here by Kurzak, and I saw a few guards in the guard station to the north. Other than them, I’m not sure. CILLA: Has anyone escaped from here? GILAL: Has anyone escaped? I think… I… Oh, my head! The pain! NARRATOR: Cermak rushed to her side. CERMAK: Are you all right? GILAL: I don’t know. I feel fine now. CILLA: What happened? GILAL: A sharp pain went searing through my head. NARRATOR: For a while, nobody said anything. Gerakis made a brief attempt to engage her with another question, but Gilal could not focus. GILAL: Every time I think, my headache gets worse. I’ll talk to you when I feel better. NARRATOR: Already Kurzak was calling for them. KURZAK: K’Ratchek! Cilla! Gerakis! Cermak! Get up here! It’s your turn in the arena! NARRATOR: The party readied themselves with various pieces of armor they recovered from the arena so far. Cermak used only a quarterstaff and wore loose fitting robes, which offered little by way of defense but it did allow him freer access to his magical abilities. Cilla wielded an obsidian sword and, much like Cermak, wore light clothing. Gerakis was the most armed and armored, wielding two swords and wearing mutliple pieces of leather armor over his head, chest, one arm and a leg. Armor generally does not fit the thri-kreen’s insectoid bodies, and so K’Ratchek wore nothing and wielded only her chatkcha. KURZAK: Good thing you got here. I thought I was going to have to send out Legcrusher. The crowd is waiting! Get moving! NARRATOR: As they passed Legcrusher, Gerakis asked him a question. GERAKIS: What am I fighting next? LEGCRUSHER: You’ll see the thri-kreen and tohr-kreen they just captured. NARRATOR: Kurzak opened the arena door as Gerakis rejoined the party. KURZAK: Give us a good show – draw the battle out enough to make it interesting. NARRATOR: They again entered the arena. They passed under the announcer who was sitting safely behind a balcony’s walls. They passed through the enclosure and out into the arena. ANNOUNCER: Citizens of Draj! These slaves have proven their worth. It seems the arena purchased wisely. ANNOUNCER: On this day, King Tectuktitlay once again presents Draj with the gifts of battle and death. Hail Tectuktitlay and the victorious armies of Draj! NARRATOR: From the west came five insectoids, four thri-kreen like K’Ratchek, and one of their male counterparts, the tohr-kreen. They were fast and were quickly upon the party, but Cermak, quick to act, cast a stinking cloud into the advancing insectoids. Each one became affected by its noxious fumes, and prevented them from attacking. Cilla blessed the party, and then all drew their weapons and charged into battle. NARRATOR: Gerakis pummeled the insectoids and Cilla stabbed at them with her sword. K’Ratchek whirled her many claws around their carapace. Cermak stood back and fired magic missiles. And all the while, the creatures could not fight back, so crippled by the stinking cloud. NARRATOR: The battle was almost too easy, and then became almost too challenging as the thri-kreen were able to escape the choking fog around them. They, like K’Ratchek, could attack four, sometimes five times before their opponent could strike once. Cilla was struck by one thri-kreen and retreated from them while Cermak stepped forward to continue her fight. The battle was over quickly, perhaps quicker than any battle they had yet fought, but the damage was surprisingly effective near the end. Were it not for the stinking cloud, it would have been unlikely these gladiators would have come out as they did. ANNOUNCER: Attention gladiators! Go back to the pens to heal your wounds. The citizens of Draj grow impatient with delays. NARRATOR: The crowd treated the gladiators to more chanting and more money being thrown. Cermak, and the others kept their comments to themselves. Cermak rushed to the man he had released before, still lying in the hot sand, barely alive. SEMYON: Unnhh. NARRATOR: Cermak gave the man the clay pot of water. The bound man was rejuvenated by the drink. He got to his feet. SEMYON: I’m getting out of here! NARRATOR: Cermak escorted the man back to the closed-in pen, where the other members of the party reconvened. The man moved into the small amount of shade the red wall afforded. SEMYON: I assume you’re eventually going to want to escape. GERAKIS: What do you know about the Veiled Alliance? SEMYON: Nothing. That’s the trouble! I was turned in because I was looking for the Alliance. SEMYON: Just tell me the name of one contact. Anybody. GERAKIS: I’m not from the Veiled Alliance. NARRATOR: Beneath the man’s dirty blonde hair was a heartbroken, hopeless face. Dark eyes sat sunken deep within a weathered face. K’Ratchek: Want to help us in the arena? SEMYON: You mean me? In the arena? I don’t think I’d be any help… I’m much more of a scout than a warrior, really. NARRATOR: It is good that Cermak saved this man, but he was disappointed that he could neither get them closer to the Veiled Alliance nor aid them in escape or battle. He seemed content to stay out here, in the hot sun. SEMYON: Better to bake out here than go back into the pens. I have a feeling I wouldn’t make it back to my cell – if you know what I mean… NARRATOR: The party left him. As they passed under the balcony, Cermak stopped and glared up at the announcer. ANNOUNCER: Don’t expect mercy from me – we keep you here to fight, not lie around and get fat. CERMAK: I am prepared to die – I hope you are too. ANNOUNCER: Yes, but your death will come before mine. This I guarantee. ANNOUNCER: Return to the pens. I have no more time to waste on you. NARRATOR: Back in the slavepens, Kurzak is waiting for them. KURZAK: Let’s get you back to the ‘pens. You obviously need some rest. NARRATOR: Kurzak wandered ahead of the party, content that they will not attempt anything foolish. Indeed, in their state, wounded and exhausted and without allies or direction, they had little options as yet. As they passed the half-giant Legcrusher again, Gerakis stepped forward and asked him a direct question. GERAKIS: How can we get out of here? LEGCRUSHER: I dunno. GERAKIS: What am I fighting next? LEGCRUSHER: I dunno. It’s too early to tell. NARRATOR: Kurzak was waiting at the door. He called out to Gerakis and the others. KURZAK: All right, go through the door! There’s a place to rest down the east hall. I’ll come get you when it’s time for your next fight. If you want to fight before that, knock on the door. NARRATOR: Instead of returning directly to their cell, they explored the western side of the slave pens. They encountered a door leading into one of the cells, which was itself odd in that most of the cells didn’t even have that. Gerakis knocked on the door and, after a moment, it slowly opened. NARRATOR: Inside was a small cell, not unlike the others. A skeleton was in a heap in the corner, next to some dirty furniture, strewn with cobwebs. A straw bed lay here, a red blanket thrown over it. A breeze picked up in the room, suddenly, and the door slammed shut. NARRATOR: Then, from a secret passageway in the far wall shambled in the rotting body of a reanimated corpse! Fortunately, Cilla was quick to act, leaping behind the zombie and stabbing it several times with her bone sword. There was the sound of a secret door shutting and locking. NARRATOR: It only took a little investigating for Cilla to find some suspicious cracks in the wall. Will little searching, she found a button on the North wall. When pressing it, the secret door opened once more. NARRATOR: Inside this secret room was merely a repository for miscellany. A broken table was here, some shattered remains of clay pots. But then K’Ratchek discovered a chest, inside of which was some new bone armor and four arrows. Farther into this secret lair they found a large, ornate box. Inside was fifty ceramics, and also a dark blue gem. They pocketed the money and the gem and returned to the cell. The door had no handle, and could not be opened from this side. They had to remove the hinges from the wall and take the door off completely to escape. NARRATOR: Back in the slavepens, they found a confident looking blonde man in his cell. A man called Mirlon, the one Trustee referred to as a weasel. MIRLON: Hello there! It’s good to see you. Please forgive my appearance, I’ve been in here a while. K’RATCHEK: I’m K’Ratchek. MIRLON: It’s a pleasure, K’Ratchek. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek walked into Mirlon’s cell. It was plain and uninteresting; a single cot of hay was here and nothing more. K’RATCHEK: Let’s talk escape. MIRLON: Escape? I’ve considered it, but I don’t have much chance of succeeding by myself. Together, we could do it! I’m sick of this place. However, first we will need money. NARRATOR: While the crowd’s generosity had helped pad these gladiators’ pockets, the little bit of change they had acquire and could yet acquire was a paltry amount to anyone other than another slave. CILLA: How could we find money? MIRLON: Well, I happen to know the location of a very valuable gem. If you find it and bring it to me, I will be able to apply the proper bribes to affect an escape. K’RATCHEK: I’ve got the gem. MIRLON: Good, I’ll take. NARRATOR: K’RATCHEK considered for a moment, but since the gem was of no value to the slaves otherwise, she handed it over. MIRLON: Great, now here’s the plan. I have a secret patron in the city who bribed the guard captain. Even so, there might be some trouble, so it’d be better if we went separately. You can leave now. GERAKIS: Aren’t you coming? MIRLON: No, not just yet. I still have some matters to tie up. You should go now. CILLA: Who is this patron of yours? MIRLON: I can’t say. If his identity were known, he would lose much – probably his life! NARRATOR: Cilla made a hard stop. CILLA: I must know more about this patron. MIRLON: I’ll tell you some, but I hope you know better than to repeat it. I wasn’t always a slave. My family was noble until Tectuktitlay ordered our house disbaded. My patron is someone still aligned with us. That’s all… I can say no more of him! GERAKIS: Why was your house disbanded? MIRLON: We openly opposed the brutality of the templars. NARRATOR: Cilla impatiently urged them onward. CILLA: (Impatiently) Let’s go. MIRLON: Good luck! CILLA: Now way! You’re coming with us. MIRLON: Very well, I’ll follow you up past Kurzak, then take the lead. NARRATOR: They left Mirlon’s cell and proceeded up the dirty slavepens back to the main door. Gerakis pounded on its thick surface. KURZAK: I’m on my way, slave! NARRATOR: Kurzak opened the door. KURZAK: You got here fast! Good to see gladiators so ready to fight! The crowd is waiting! Get moving! NARRATOR: But then Kurzak noticed who was accompanying the party. KURZAK: (conspiratorially) Come on then, don’t stand around. NARRATOR: They followed Kurzak up the aisle to the long corridor wherein idled Legcrusher, but instead of going West toward the arena, this time Kurzak motioned them Eastward. Mirlon the former nobleman lingered slightly behind. KURZAK: So, you and Mirlon are buddies, huh? K’RATCHEK: No, just partners. KURZAK: Partnerships only last until one side gets what it wants. CILLA: Mind your own business, kank-breath. KURZAK: So, working with Mirlon makes you too good to talk to us now? I see how it is. NARRATOR: They stepped through another corridor and then Kurzak stopped. He allowed Mirlon to step through. As he passed the party, he hastily whispered to them. MIRLON: (Impatient, rushed) Everything will be clear soon. Just keep going. NARRATOR: They moved down one corridor, and then another. They followed a winding, twisting route through many passageways leading Westward and Southward, though it was easy to get lost in this labyrinth. MIRLON: Keep moving, there’s quite a way to go. NARRATOR: They passed guards who seemed uninterested in these escapees, clearly in on the ruse. Yet, Mirlon was impatient and hurried onward, through another corridor, and another, surrounded always by the same clay bricks the color of rust and age. MIRLON: We’ll be there soon. NARRATOR: They passed through prison cells which, unlike the slavepens, had strong white bars. Inside the cells were corpses, skeletons, tattered beds, and sometimes what appeared to be machines used for the sole purpose of creating and prolonging suffering. Guards watched the party walk freely through these halls. Finally, after snaking through a long, singular corridor, Mirlon appeared to be at ease for the first time since leaving Kurzak’s side. MIRLON: It’s down this corridor. Then we’ll take a left. NARRATOR: He walked onward, and the party followed. MIRLON: It’s just this way – not much farther. NARRATOR: They rounded one final corner. They came to a door. Mirlon stepped forward and opened it, revealing a very large room with an ornate rug of some exotic animal, clean furniture, and other objects of opulence. MIRLON: (Sad, guilty, regretful) Just in this room. NARRATOR: A long partition had been placed form one end of the wall almost to the other, dividing the room into two parts. Mirlon stopped at the end of the partition and waited for the party. The party stepped around the corner, and came face to face with the high templar. NARRATOR: Behind a wide, bald pate there jutted from his head streaks of red hair. He wore a long earring on his right ear, and was dressed in uniform adorned with extravagant decorations of his station. He looked at the party derisively. PEHTUCL: So, you’ve escaped! I admire your resourcefulness and skill. I am prepared to grant you your freedom, and four guavas of healing. In return, you will go to the main city, to the Headless Giant Tavern. Tell the bartender that “Pehtucl” sent you. I can use warriors such as yourselves. NARRATOR: Mirlon sheepishly drifted into the shadows in the corner of the room. Pehtucl waited for a response. K’Ratchek recalled the ominous message scrawled into the wardrobe. K’RATCHEK: Why should we trust you? PEHTUCL: I offer much, but demand only little. All I ask, for the moment, is that you go to the tavern. NARRATOR: While some of the party considered the templar’s vague direction, K’Ratchek addressed the matter in her usual pragmatic way. K’RATCHEK: Tell me more about the mission. PEHTUCL: Tectuktitlay, our sorcerer-king, has left – perhaps for good. Now is the time for the enterprising to gather forces. You will be used to eradicate my opponents. K’RATCHEK: I want more than just the guavas. PEHTUCL: Beware of overreaching yourselves. There is a fine line between confidence and death. Still, 5,000 ceramic pieces await you at the tavern. K’RATCHEK: I want even more. PEHTUCL: (Angry, out of patience.) You are being foolish. Accept what you have or lose my aid. Choose now! NARRATOR: K’Ratchek turns away from the templar. K’RATCHEK: Your aid is worthless. PEHTUCL: I thought you were more intelligent. Guards! NARRATOR: From the Eastern door poured guards, each one armed and armored. Mirlon cowered even further into the corner while Pehtucl drew his sword. PEHTUCL: Pray to any gods you worship – your death has drawn nigh! NARRATOR: Pehtucl leaped forward and slashed at Cermak. K’Ratchek tried to get between Cermak and the templar, but was cut down by his blade as she came near. Gerakis tried to hold off the guards coming in, but they came in a swarm. Cilla cast a spell of entanglement, but it only slowed their advances. NARRATOR: Cermak and Pehtucl engaged in a dance of blades, but Cermak was not the gladiator he once was, having attempted to give up that occupation in pursuit of the preserver school. Pehtucl struck him down. NARRATOR: The guards pouring in climbed through the vines and were then upon Cilla. Gerakis intervened, beating one guard to death with his dual blades, and then another. A third one was almost slain in his wild aggression before he was stabbed through the back by Pehtucl. NARRATOR: The guards and Pehutcl advanced on her. She was doomed, her allies slain, and hope of escape lost. She turned and let fly a stone from her sling. It struck the coward Mirlon, but did not kill him. Pehtucl raised his weapon and brought it down on her. NARRATOR: The party was defeated.
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Episode Two: "Untitled Part 2" NARRATOR: The dark sun cast its smothering maroon light down over the arena’s sand. The audience, as always cried out for blood. From the slavepens below emerged four badly battered slaves. Their failed escape attempt was almost the end of them, but they had been saved, and loaded onto a conveyance that took them back to boodbath outside. The head guard Kurzak had been there to open the door and throw them through. NARRATOR: The arena announcer looked down at the slaves. ANNOUNCER: What do you have to say for yourself, gladiator? NARRATOR: The human, Cermak, in his anger would have shouted back something flippant to the man, but he was preempted by the thri-kreen K’Ratchek, who was first to address the sadistic man above. K’RATCHEK: Your words don’t concern us. ANNOUNCER: That is good. The monsters, however, should concern you. NARRATOR: As the party moved Southward, out of the bone-walled-pen and into the arena proper, the announcer broadcasted his spiel. ANNOUNCER: Citizens of Draj! These slaves have proven their worth. It seems the arena purchased wisely. ANNOUNCER: On this day, King Tectuktitlay once again presents Draj with his gifts of battle and death. Hail Tectuktitlay and the victorious armies of Draj! NARRATOR: A swarm of thri-kreen and tohr-kreen came at them from the Western gate, from underneath the dragon’s head fixtures that occasionally spat fire. K’Ratchek, though quick and able to lash out with her multiple clawed limbs, retreated, for she had little armor, and was already wounded. Cermak stepped forward and cast a gas cloud over the approaching enemy, a tactic that had worked before, but perhaps it was the wind or just good luck on the part of the insectoid gladiators, for they sidestepped it with ease and then attacked Cermak. NARRATOR: Cilla stepped in just in time to heal him, and Gerakis moved forward to insert his massive bulk between the enemy and his party. From afar, K’Ratchek assaulted the enemy with psionic blasts and the deadly strikes of her chatkcha. The thri-kreen struck at Gerakis repeatedly, and though they did little damage, they could strike the half-giant four or five times for ever one attack her could return. But when he did return, it was deadly; his crushing blows destroyed one of his opponents in one attack, and then he finished off another with his next. NARRATOR: Somewhat healed, Cermak jumped back into battle. He was more adept at the ways of the preserver, though his past was steeped in combat not unlike where he was now. Still, he was not adept enough to wield a sword, so he struck the enemy with his staff. It was not especially effective, but he and Gerakis seemed to be the least wounded of the four. NARRATOR: The tohr-kreen caused an explosion to erupt under Gerakis, which also scorched the nearby Cermak. Cilla healed him again, but Cermak wisely stepped out of battle. Cilla, a bone sword in hand, blessed the party and stepped in to strike the tohr-kreen down. The last of the thri-kreen was felled by Gerakis, just a few feet away from a bird, hovering over a slave’s corpse, waiting for everyone to leave so it can feed. ANNOUNCER: Attention gladiators! Go back to the pens to heal your wounds. The citizens of Draj grow impatient with delays. NARRATOR: Again, the crowd threw money. It wasn’t much, but the gesture of adoration from the citizens of Draj infuriated the announcer. ANNOUNCER: (Angrily) Enjoy your victory while you can! You will eventually meet your match! NARRATOR: They did not yell anything back to the announcer. The party hobbled back into the slavepens. NARRATOR: Kurzak, the head guard, was waiting for them. KURZAK: (Impressed) So! You survived this time. Follow me. You’re going back to the slavepens. NARRATOR: The exhausted party did not argue. Kurzak brought them back to the slavepen door, opened it, and beckoned them through. It closed behind them. As they walked back to their own cell, they encountered Trustee. TRUSTEE: I see you’re still alive. Still, no gladiators last long. Did I ever tell you about how I got to be the Trustee? CILLA: Yes. TRUSTEE: Well, it’s true, every word of it! CERMAK: Goodbye. TRUSTEE: I have to get back to work anyway. NARRATOR: They stumbled into their cell, and rested. NARRATOR: Next to their cell was the woman, Gilal. The last time they tried talking to her, she had been overcome with headaches. K’Ratchek attempted to engage her once again in conversation, but Gilal screamed out in pain. GILAL: (Exhausted, in pain) Every time I think, my headache gets worse. I’ll talk to you when I feel better. NARRATOR: With a little time before their next fight, the party ventured back down to Dinos’s extravagant cell. DINOS: Did you hear someone screaming? CILLA: Gilal. DINOS: Gilal? Is she all right? CILLA: Why do you want to know? DINOS: Let’s just say that I wouldn’t want anything to happen to such an attractive young woman. NARRATOR: Cermak debated whether or not to tell Dinos anything more. He was creepy and a coward. But if he had something that could help Gilal, it may be worth telling him. CERMAK: She’s in severe pain. DINOS: No more time for talk! Take me to her at once. NARRATOR: The four gladiators and Dinos left his cell and headed northward, back to Gilal’s. They passed the Trustee on the way. TRUSTEE: I see you’re still alive. Still, no gladiators last long. Did I ever tell you about the slavepens? NARRATOR: They arrived at Gilal’s cell. The woman was sitting on the pile of hay that was her bed, holding her head between her hands. Dinos approached her and laid his hands upon her head, concentrating. After a few moments, Gilal regained her senses and Dinos turned to leave. DINOS: It worked. I must go now. NARRATOR: He stopped at the doorway. DINOS: Talk to me in a second. GILAL: Thank you for your help. It was uncommonly kind of you. GERAKIS: How are you feeling? GILAL: I feel great! The best I’ve felt in a long time. Thanks to Dinos, my head is perfectly clear. NARRATOR: The party left Gilal’s cell. She called out to them. GILAL: Stay well. NARRATOR: They returned to Dinos’s cell. DINOS: I’m glad I could help Gilal. GERAKIS: How did you heal Gilal? DINOS: It is a gift that I was born with. Gilal’s mind had been closed by the templar, so they wouldn’t have to kill her. She knew something too important for the templar to let anyone know. CERMAK: If she has info, why didn’t you ask? DINOS: Knowledge is both valuable and dangerous. I am happy here in the pens. Why find out something that could change that? NARRATOR: They left the coward Dinos to his posh apartment and visited Gilal once more, hoping she may have some insight that could aid them in their escape, should they ever get the chance to try again. K’RATCHEK: What about escaping? GILAL: In the northern-most monster pen there is a secret passage which leads to the sewer entrance. It’s a big hole in the northwest corner of the pens, to the west of the kitchen. You just have to push the button in the corner of the pen, and it’ll be open. Be careful of the guard posted there. I had to break something to distract him, but you can probably just kill him. CILLA: How far did you get? GILAL: I made it as far as the desert to the north. Something startled me and I jumped behind a rock. I fell down an embankment and broke my leg. Guards from the city found me the next day. The templar healed my leg and put some kind of memory block in my head so that I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone my story. K’RATCHEK: We’re planning to escape. GILAL: I’m not sure I could go through that again. If I escaped again and was recaptured, I’d be killed immediately. But I wish you the best of luck. NARRATOR: If these gladiators escaped and were recaptured, the same fate would befall them. CILLA: (Forlornly) What’s the wilderness like? GILAL: Well, I didn’t get too far, but I’ve head there’s villages where escaped slaves live. CERMAK: Are these villages safe? GILAL: Not really. But, they’re better than here. GERAKIS: Where are these villages? GILAL: I don’t really know. I grew up in the city, and the people there just don’t care about anything outside. They try to ignore the wilderness. Especially after the rumors started of Tectuktitlay getting together an army to squash the villages. GERAKIS: What rumors are these? GILAL: That’s all I really know. If it’s true, it’s too bad. Those villages can’t stand alone against an army the size Tectuktitlay can get together. GERAKIS: How big are these villages? GILAL: Well, it depends. Most are pretty small. They barely scratch out a living. There’s not enough water out there to let a lot of people live in one place for long. But, I’ve heard of one to the north where a man dug a well that’s lasted years – I think his name was Dominy. But, it’s probably not true, no one could do that. CERMAK: Why don’t they fight him together? GILAL: What are you talking about? CERMAK: They can ally and fight together. GILAL: How could they trust each other? If someone could do that, it would be a great feat. Worthy of telling for generations. No one has ever allied whole villages together! NARRATOR: With some idea of what to expect on the outside, the party could go back to focusing on the more present problem of escaping. The next cell over contained Merzol and his thugs. As they passed by it, they could once again hear Merzol and his loud, secretive conspiracy. He seemed to notice the party’s presence halfway through his plot. MERZOL: We should figure out how to escape! And like I said… it’s none of your business what’s in that haystack! GERAKIS: Why are you in here? MERZOL: I gambled on the arena contests all the time. I got a bad tip, and bet way over my head. I lost the bet, and couldn’t pay up. To pay for my debt, the head templar sold me into slavery. NARRATOR: Cilla stepped forward, not interested in Merzol’s history. CILLA: How do we get out of here? MERZOL: If I knew that, I’d do it myself! You can escape with us as soon as we get a plan, though! MERZOL: All I know is that if you knock on the front door, Kurzak will open it, thinking you’re ready for a fight. I say we kill him after the door’s open! CILLA: (Doubtful, annoyed) What do we do then? MERZOL: I don’t know – we could just kill all the guards and take over! Ha ha! CILLA: Brilliant. We’ll be slaughtered. MERZOL: If you get any better ideas, you tell me! NARRATOR: Merzol went back to working on his plan, ignoring the party. If the party was to escape, it would be beneficial to have allies. It seemed to Cilla that Merzol was the only thing in the way of acquiring a crew that could, with the right leadership, aid them to freedom. CILLA: Listen, slaad-bait! I’m in charge. MERZOL: Without me, this gang’s nothin’! Take your best shot. NARRATOR: But Cilla did not anticipate the other slaves’ loyalty to Merzol, for they got to their feet and ran to stand by their leader. Gerakis shoved his huge bulk into the corridor, so that he and Cilla blocked any escape. Merzol’s men rushed the two, and they engaged in combat while K’Ratchek threw her chatkcha and Cermak cast magic missiles. NARRATOR: Freshly rested, the party was more than sufficient to handle the pitiful crew led by Merzol. Soon, they were all dead, four former gladiators slain in their own cell. K’Ratchek reached into the haystack and drew back a handful of ceramic pieces. NARRATOR: Kurzak’s familiar voice rang through the slavepens. KURZAK: Gerakis! Cilla! Cermak! K’Ratchek! Get up here! It’s your turn in the arena! NARRATOR: With no time left to work out a plan for escape, the party ventured back to the front, ready to test their mettle against other enslaved gladiators to see if they can earn themselves just another day of life in this place. KURZAK: You got here fast! Good to see gladiators so ready to fight! The crowd is waiting! Get moving! NARRATOR: When they walked past Legcrusher, the half-giant trainer mumbled to Gerakis. LEGCRUSHER: They decided to test you with a mountain stalker and some sligs – see if you’re as good as you think. NARRATOR: Kurzak opened the gate leading to the arena. KURZAK: Give us a good show – draw the battle out enough to make it interesting. NARRATOR: The four gladiators emerged again into the horrible arena. They stepped beneath the bone arch and a gate closed behind them. The announcer began his spiel to the frenzied populace screaming from their seats high above, beyond the dangers of this pit. ANNOUNCER: Citizens of Draj! These gladiators, strong and skilled, have yet to be truly tested. We will challenge them this day to prove their worth against our Monster Trainer’s best. NARRATOR: The gates opened and out came the three frog-like sligs and the tall mountain stalker, a creature with a beast head who walks upright, but in lieu of fingers or claws it had long tentacles. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek went forward to intercept the oncoming foes. The sligs split into a wedge, with the stalker behind them. K’Ratchek encounters the lead slig and wailed on it with her many claws. Gerakis was able to slip between two of the sligs to assault the mountain stalker directly. He pummeled the huge beast many times, causing horrible damage to the mountain creature. It was finally Cermak’s magic missile that destroyed the tentacled thing. ANNOUNCER: These gladiators are tough, aren’t they? NARRATOR: The party had been fortunate in taking down the mountain stalker so fast; the sligs were quick and vicious, but the gladiators by this point had become honed, they had become a single unit, and the sligs were mere annoyances. Cermak slew one with his staff. ANNOUNCER: Not a surprise the monster died! It had been sick anyway. It could barely stand, it was so weak. NARRATOR: Cilla ran another through with her sword. ANNOUNCER: What a pathetic creature! Its trainer would fight better! NARRATOR: And K’Ratchek clawed the last to death. But despite their efficient execution, the announcer was upset by the poor performance of the “monster trainer’s best.” ANNOUNCER: That was too easy. Perhaps these monsters would be more of a challenge! NARRATOR: Then from the East came a new set of monsters, but these were nothing more than silt runners and a sand howler, opponents that might have given them pause on their first day in the arena. Gerakis stomped the sand howler to death while the others met the silt runners head-on and conquered the arena. NARRATOR: The crowd chanted the names of the gladiators and threw ceramic pieces down to them, which K’Ratchek methodically collected. The party, still hardy, returned to the fenced in space that led to the slavepens. As they approached the passage, Cermak looked up at the announcer, who spoke down to him. ANNOUNCER: You have good teeth. I have a friend who would buy you. CERMAK: You can’t buy and sell us. ANNOUNCER: It’s strange you should feel that way. I did buy you – for the arena, that is…. You were quite a deal, we got you at a discount. NARRATOR: Cermak said nothing more and the gladiators returned again to the dirty slavepens. NARRATOR: Kurzak was waiting for them, barking his usual orders. KURZAK: Follow me. You’re going back to the slavepens. NARRATOR: The gladiators did. They passed by Legcrusher, ignoring him. When they arrived at the thick metal door, Kurzak repeated the same commands as he had before. KURZAK: All right, go through the door. There’s a place to rest down the east hall. KURZAK: I’ll come get you when it’s time for your next fight. If you want to fight before that, knock on the door. NARRATOR: The door opened and Gerakis, K’Ratchek, Cermak and Cilla walked through. They had by now almost entirely exhausted their options here. They had survived battle after battle, defeating even Lugcrusher’s best. Their multiple escape attempts had been blundered either by poor diplomatic management in the case of Merzol and his gang, Mirlon tricked them into almost certain death against the high templar Pehuctl, and neither Dinos nor Trustee were going to risk losing their comparatively lucrative stations in aiding an escape. NARRATOR: Their next fight was going to be against the king of the slavepens, and there was nowhere else to climb after that. The life of a gladiator may then reach its zenith, but then the gladiator’s life is nothing more than an arduous, never ending defense of this vile title. Beyond this title, there is no reward for such strength, and as Pehucatl’s declaration read, for the weak there is only death. NARRATOR: The current king of the slavepens was Scar, a large man with a deep gash cut into his right cheek. The party visited him in his cell, where he was surrounded by his gang. SCAR: I saw you out in the arena – you know what you’re doing. I could use you. CILLA: What do you mean, ‘use me’? SCAR: I have a plan. SCAR: Listen. I can arrange for us to fight each other in the arena. I know how to get out the west gate – they don’t use it any more, it should be lightly guarded. We meet in the arena and fight our way out! CILLA: That’s stupid. CERMAK: (Interrupting) I like it! When do we start? SCAR: Good. Just keep fighting in the arena like a good gladiator and when you see us, be read to run for the west gate! NARRATOR: The party went back to their cell and rested. NARRATOR: Upon waking, the party ensured they were fully prepared for what lay ahead. Cermak’s experience in the arena had by now returned in him his confidence and proficiency in wielding a sword. Using the powers of a preserver, he could also now effectively hold his own on the battlefield. NARRATOR: Gerakis carried an obsidian sword in either hand. The swords were fragile, and prone to breaking, so he carried on him backup bone swords. NARRATOR: Cilla wielded a bow and a small bundle of powerful arrows. In her hands was sword and shield, and beyond that she also managed a mastery of low-tier mage and psionic spells and abilities. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek wielded no weapons, for her naked claws – four of them! – and her biting attack more than sufficed if she should get close enough to her enemy. Her insectoid body meant she wore no armor, but she compensated through her impressive hardiness and constitution and could call upon a psionic shield to add to her defense. NARRATOR: They pounded on the slavepen door. Gerakis shouted through the heavy metal. GERAKIS: Take me to the arena! I want a fight! KURZAK: I’m on my way, slave! NARRATOR: The door opened. The slaves faced the head guard Kurzak. KURZAK: You got here fast! Good to see gladiators so ready to fight! The crowd is waiting! Get moving! (Transition outside.) ANNOUNCER: This day we have a surprise! The ‘King of the Pens’, Scar, has become so disgusted with the survival of these scum that he has offered to kill them himself to make room in the pens for real gladiators. NARRATOR: The party left the protection of the sun-bleached-bone enclosure and met with Scar and his gang on the battlefield. The gladiators lined themselves up, Gerakis and Cermak in front with Cilla hanging back and K’Ratchek just off to the side, ready to dive in if she was needed. NARRATOR: Scar and his gang approached steadily, determined. Scar was in front, the other three in a line behind him. Just as they were within fighting distance, Scar spoke. SCAR: Perfect plan, isn’t it? I know just the way to escape! CILLA: Well? What are you waiting for? SCAR: (Loudly, theatrically) Welcome, Gerakis! You’ve done pretty well so far, but death awaits. The king wants blood for his pyramid. SCAR: At this point we either kill each other or team up. No other options. Do you want to fight or make a break for it? GERAKIS: Let’s make a break for it. GERAKIS: (Loudly, theatrically) I’m prepared to die this day… are you? SCAR: Great. I suggest we bust out through the west gate. Then you head north and find a way out; I’ll head to the south. We make a break for the west exit on ‘one’. Ready? SCAR: Three… Two… One… Go! NARRATOR: The two bands converged in what was expected to be a climactic bloodbath, but to the crowd’s disappointment, all eight gladiators turned and sprinted to the west gate. They passed the corpses of previous combatants, other gladiators and slaves, some chained to rocks, some now just skeletons. Draconic gargoyles belched fire from the rafters, and a door made of a metal worked into the gruesome grimace of some chitinous insectoid creature with yellow eyes blocked their path. ANNOUNCER: Gladiators escaping! Guards! Sound the alarms! NARRATOR: The west gate was unlocked. They went opened it and fled the arena. NARRATOR: They emerged in a different part of the slavepens. The doors to the arena slammed shut behind them, just as the last of Scar’s gang hopped through the passageway. There was nowhere to go right now but to the West, where the path split North and South. From somewhere down the hall, they heard the familiar voice of the head guard. KURZAK: Help! Somebody sound the alarm! Call for reinforcements! NARRATOR: They ran Westward and encountered a single arena guard. Cermak and K’Ratchek rushed him and slew him before he could call out for more help. They lifted from his body a bow and some more arrows, some chest armor made of bone, leather shoulder armor and an obsidian knife. NARRATOR: Another guard appeared and ran to either rescue or avenge the fallen man. K’Ratchek and Cermak again were able to put him down before he could make a single attack against the rioting escapees. They quickly gathered what they can from his corpse. SCAR: This is where our paths diverge. Continue to the North. We’ll try to escape down South. Good luck! NARRATOR: Scar and his three men turned South, and Gerakis and his crew moved North. They passed through more narrow brick-laid corridors on the other side of which were cells containing discarded bones, broken pottery, and junk. They turned the corner, and were accosted by four more arena guards. NARRATOR: One of the brave arena guards rushed forward, passing by Gerakis and attacking K’Ratchek. He missed, and K’Ratchek retaliated by tearing his face off. Gerakis and Cermak met the three remaining guards. Cilla fired her arrow into one of the guards, killing him. Cermak took many hits from them, and could only hold them off while Gerakis struck them down with his twin swords. Once the guards were dead, Cermak healed himself. NARRATOR: They ran through a long hallway, one side containing barred cells. A single templar waited for them at the end. He ran forward, bravely, but stupidly. He was killed easily. NARRATOR: They continued fighting and blasting their way through the slavepens. The guards were so unprepared for this assault that they did not have time to coordinate. They were a chaotic band of lightly armed, sluggish combatants, spread thinly throughout this enormous complex. Ever loyal, these guards did not flee from the ravaging gladiators, but seemed to welcome death, rushing into the bloody force tearing through the pens. NARRATOR: They arrived at a intersection which would likely take them to the kitchen Gilal had spoken of before. Cermak worked his magic to heal those who were injured – Gerakis in particular was wounded excessively, but he was such a stout man one would scarcely have noticed it. The end was in sight, but they were not finished here. They turned around, and headed South, down the direction Scar and his men took, down the path that Mirlon had taken them. They enter Pehtucl’s suite. He is there, waiting for them. PEHTUCL: Pray to any gods you worship – your death has drawn nigh! NARRATOR: The templar slashed at Gerakis with his sword, striking him with deadly force. Cermak immediately retreated, while Gerakis stepped forward. Pehtucl could be a deadly force, but not on his own, against the gladiators trained in this very place. They slew him. NARRATOR: On his body was a powerful sword, an Obsidian sword with a Bloodwrath enchantment on it, and a set of Bone Brigand Chest Armor. Also on his person was a horde of guavas, which they eagerly took. NARRATOR: The party left the way they came, but took the first passage that led west, hoping to avoid running into trouble. More guards had come down into the ‘pens, but what could they find but corpses and destruction? The party maneuvered the corridors, carefully avoiding the guards’ patrols, but in doing so they inadvertantly encountered the half-giant monster trainer, Legcrusher. LEGCRUSHER: Bad gladiators! Bad gladiators! NARRATOR: Legcrusher attacked Cilla, who by bad luck was nearest to the huge half-giant. She was nimble and powerful, but perhaps at expense of her own fortitude. The half-giant trainer struck her, and then again, and then again, and she certainly would have been killed had Legcrusher landed another blow. She backed away and fired her arrows at Legcrusher and Cermak healed her. Gerakis, like Legcrusher, was a half-giant, and rightfully the one best suited to endure the trainer’s assault. The battle was quick, but brutal, and Legcrusher collapsed onto the dirty, bloodstained floor. NARRATOR: Then another man stepped forward. It was Kurzak, the head guard. KURZAK: I hate seeing good gladiators wasted. It happens all the time with the stupid ones. NARRATOR: The head guard stepped forward and foolishly struck Gerakis. Gerakis retaliated and beat Kurzak to near death his two strikes from both of his swords. Cermak tried to put down the head guard with his sword, but Kurzak denied Cermak his revenge, dancing away from the preserver’s thrust – right into the four arms of K’Ratchek. Kurzak was eviscerated. NARRATOR: At the end of the hall was Trustee. He watched the gladiators cut down Kurzak, but he would not join the rebellion. TRUSTEE: The alarm’s sounded. They’ll kill you if they catch you. I’m stayin’ here. I’m too old to go tramping the desert. Good luck! NARRATOR: They left Trustee and checked with Gilal, who was still weakly resting on her pile of hay. She, too, was not willing to accompany them. GILAL: You better get out of here quickly! More guards will arrive eventually. NARRATOR: They headed back in the direction of the kitchen, but then encountered Mirlon, the man Trustee called a weasel and warned would “sell his brother for five ceramics.” Mirlon cowered in the face of the fellow slaves he had betrayed. MIRLON: Take pity, don’t hurt me, please! NARRATOR: Mirlon was no longer a threat to the party. He could tell the guards where the party had gone, but they would have deduced that themselves. The party turned away from the coward, and began to walk away. But unable to quell his rage, he spun around and thrust his sword through Mirlon. MIRLON: Aaagh, somebody, help me! NARRATOR: Cermak slew the pathetic man. The body had nothing at all on it but the stains of its own blood. Not even any ceramic pieces; one wonders what he had done with whatever Pehtucl had paid him. NARRATOR: They encountered two more guards on their retreat from the slavepens. They had played with these slaves like toys, pushing them harder and raising the stakes with each battle, but their cruel ambitions were also their undoing, for these slaves had grown not only in their capabilities as preservers, gladiators, druids, psionicists, but also into unified unit. Their battles in the arena trained them for this moment, and the guards who had grown soft in their confidence and idleness could not stop the fury of what one might call a yearning for freedom and others might call unimpedable bloodlust. They returned to the kitchen. In it were many wooden tables, a troth of water, clay pots and bowls, and a narrow corridor that wrapped around the back side of the kitchen. At the end was a large, rusted grate. NARRATOR: Gerakis snapped the lock. The grate opened. The party descended into the sewers, escaping from the slavepens. (Sewers) NARRATOR: The party left the dirty labyrinth of the slavepens for the dirty labrynth of the sewers. They found themselves on a surface of old stone tiles, most of which have been chipped away, revealing the damp, soggy earth underneath. A stream of green sewage ran in rivulets through the cracks, converging around an old drain pipe in the middle of the hall. NARRATOR: A small, furry, humanoid ratman immediately accosted them. TARI HIGHWAYRAT: Hey, you there! You want to pass, you gotta pay! GERAKIS: I’m not paying you thugs anything. TARI HIGHWAYRAT: You’re not going anywhere without giving us half your money! NARRATOR: This highwayratman was a tari, small rat-like people who gather together in tribes and live in trash heaps and sewers. The party may have encroached on their home, but the sewers seemed to spread out in all directions. It was a reasonable assumption that there would be many routes out of this place. CERMAK: We’ll go another way. Bye. TARI HIGHWAYRAT: No you won’t! You’ll pay us the 285 chips! NARRATOR: Cilla, impatiently, eschewed diplomacy for efficiency. CILLA: Let us pass or die! TARI HIGHWAYRAT: Uh… we’ll make an exception for you this time. NARRATOR: The Tari turned to one of his fellows. TARI HIGHWAYRAT: Harel, go tell Churrr we have visitors. GERAKIS: Who is Churrr? TARI HIGHWAYRAT: Nestmaster Churrr is our leader – a great and fierce warrior you would do well to respect! CILLA: What has he done to demand respect? TARI HIGHWAYRAT: (Hesitant, scared) I can’t tell you. Churrr ordered us not to tell anyone about the high warren chief’s daughter. NARRATOR: Several tari thugs patrolled this dirty place. They wore rags for armor and wielded makeshift or discarded weapons. GERAKIS: Tell us about the sewers. TARI HIGHWAYRAT: The sewers are divided into warrens where the Tari live. You want to talk to Churrr. He is the strongest nestmaster, and the low warren has the bravest warriors. But whatever you do, don’t go to the Flushing Tunnels. GERAKIS: What’s in the flushing tunnels? TARI HIGHWAYRAT: Your death, that’s what’s up there. I don’t know much but Churrr sent a group up there once – to see if any valuables were in the drains. Only one came back, and he died right after. GERAKIS: Did the survivor say anything? TARI HIGHWAYRAT: He said one of the pools to the Northeast emptied, and zombies filed out of the grate. They captured everyone but him. CERMAK: Where are the flushing tunnels? TARI HIGHWAYRAT: The flushing tunnels are far to the north. GERAKIS: What about the other warrens? TARI HIGHWAYRAT: All the weak Tari live in the high warrens. They are a selfish, cowardly lot. NARRATOR: This highwayratman had already let slip he knew something about the high warren chief’s daughter. Cermak attempted to bring out this knowledge. CERMAK: Tell me about the girl, ratman! TARI HIGHWAYRAT: I… I can’t. Please, don’t hurt me! Churrr will feed me to the slimes if I tell you. NARRATOR: The party left the cowering Tari alone and explored the immediate area. Green sludge burped forth from two holes in the brick wall, snaking its way between chipped tile to a overflowing drain. NARRATOR: There were other drains that had nothing coming out of them. Curiious, Cilla reached her hand in one. She disturbed a rat feasting on garbage. It bit her in fright. Cermak reached in another drain. Maggots clung to his arm as he rummaged through it. K’Ratchek thrust one of her long arms into a third drain. She felt something slimy. Something that moved! NARRATOR: A Tyrian Slame oozed out of the drain and plopped onto the broken floor. Tyrian Slimes were generally seen as something of an awkward groundskeeper, the substance it secrets able to dissolve all types of carrion and refuse. But as useful as they could be, they were still a wild creature, and this one felt threatened. NARRATOR: Cermak thought to destroy it quickly, so he stepped forward and swung his sword at it, but missed. Gerakis also clumsily swung his blades about, the amorphous blob able to twist and contort itself around their strikes. Cilla was the first to land a blow with a magic missile. Even the lightning-fast flurry of strikes from K’Ratchek yielded not a single successful blow. The slime lashed its boneless, blobby arm out and struck Cermak. Cilla wounded the foe with another magic missile. K’Ratchek attacked it, five clawed swipes in succession. The last two hit, and the ooze was at least defeated. There was nothing of value. NARRATOR: They walk northward through the sewers. Patrolling Tari walked along the decaying walls. The party stepped over the damp earth, and avoided the small green rivulets. They crossed over a rug that was dirty and frayed but compared to its surroundings was probably more valuable than anything else here. Certainly cleaner. They walked nto a large room with broken tile, broken tables, broken pots, and the tattered remains of a flag. One of the Tari, upon seeing the party, rushed to introduce himself. CHURRR: I’m Nestmaster Churrr. Who are you? CILLA: (Sarcastically) We’re sewer inspectors for the city. CHURRR: Draj doesn’t care what goes on down here! Why else do you think we Tari live in the sewers? But I won’t press you for the truth. GERAKIS: We’re gladiators. CHURRR: Good! I need the services of strong warriors like yourselves. Would you like to earn some extra money? K’RATCHEK: Tell us your proposal. CHURRR: You band together with my people. Together, we’ll wipe out the lowlife vermin infesting the high warrens! We’ll all grow fat and rich with the profits, just like the worshipers! CERMAK: We don’t need any money. CHURRR: You may not need it, but you can never have too much! Will you join us? CERMAK: No. CHURRR: Oh, well. I knew from the first you didn’t have the courage for it! CERMAK: What’s this rumor about someone’s daughter? CHURRR: I don’t know anything about her! NARRATOR: Cermak backed away, tired of speaking with this rat of dubious integrity. GERAKIS: Tell us about the worshipers. CHURRR: Mikquetzl convinced many Tari to follow him, and to worship the sorcerer-king, Tectuktitlay. K’RATCHEK: What are your dealings with Mikquetzl? CHURRR: I don’t have any dealings with Mikquetzl. GERAKIS: Why do these Tari follow Mikquetzl? CHURRR: He gives them food. There is little to eat in the sewers so all the weak-willed scum flock to him. GERAKIS: Where would we find this Mikquetzl? CHURRR: His temple is west of here, but if you’re smart you’ll avoid the high warrens – keep to the south conduit, past the double gates. Then head northwest. CHURRR: The high warrens are northwest of here, but the Tari there have no honor. They are all thieves and liars. They’ll stab you in the back for a few chips. I must return to my duties now. Goodbye. NARRATOR: Even in the sewers, the influence of the sorcerer-king created strife and chaos. The party walked toward the exit, but Cilla accosted one of the nearby Tari. TARI GUARD 1: What do you want? NARRATOR: Cilla demanded to know about Churrr and the situation with the girl. TARI GUARD 1: I can’t tell you. Churrr ordered us not to tell anyone about the high warren chief’s daughter. CILLA: (Manipulative, deceitful) I must know before we attack her warren. TARI GUARD 1: (Convinced) Yes, that makes sense – it was Churrr who kidnapped the high warren chief’s daughter. I don’t know what he did with her, but I haven’t seen her for a long time. TARI GUARD 1: All the weak Tari live in the high warrens. They are a selfish, cowradly lot. CILLA: Goodbye. NARRATOR: The party left Churrr to continue pacing about the filth-strewn room, exited via the southern corridor, then passed through a tight hall with large drainage pipes in the brick and the floor broken apart, bits of tile and soil everywhere. At the end of the hallway was a large metal wheel and a thick steel door. Gerakis turned the wheel, and the door opened. NARRATOR: Beyond the weathered hallway continued ahead, with another path branching Westward. A thick metal door was ahead, and next to it a wheel like the one Gerakis had just used, but this one was broken. Cilla noticed wear marks on the inner edge, as if someone had used a lever on it. But they had no such implement, so they went on down the Western path. NARRATOR: A steady stream of green fluid ran through a sluice gate and on South, snaking around the middle of the corridor along a path it had eroded, like a snake eating its way through old tile and dirt. Next to the gate was another wheel. Gerakis turned it, and the gate opened, but beyond it was a second gate, and nowhere to be seen was a mechanism with which it could be manipulated. NARRATOR: They ventured then South, once more following a stream of green sewage. At the end of another long path, it turned Westward, and so did the party. They passed another gate with no visible means of opening, and a scattering of old bones of what race they did not discern. NARRATOR: The snaking stream of green goo stretched on for a long while. They passed more bones, and a sewer drain. Cilla bravely reached into the drain, and found another skull, which she dropped onto the dirty tile next to another. The path winded around back Northward until forking into three passageways. The party chooses the correct path, the middle taking them onward beyond where the left and right ended.
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NARRATOR: Still the path continued until there became two direct, distinct paths; one heading further North and another going back Eastward and then bending south again. In studying an approximation of the map of this location, one could discern the Eastward path would take them right into the middle of this expansive place and the North up to the Flushing Tunnels, a place they were warned would contain only death. Or perhaps their escape. NARRATOR: They opted to venture deeper then into the sewers, taking the Eastward tunnel that took them ever deeper. As they continued on, the floor regressed from broken tile to smashed plates to a filthy mixture of green run-off, discarded skulls, smashed pottery, old clay tile and sodden earth. Eventually, they came upon another Tari. TARI WORSHIPER 1: Hello, stranger. Have you come to join us in the glorification of the Mighty and Omnipotent Tectuktitlay? NARRATOR: Gerakis discerned that this zealous Tari must be one of Mikquetzl’s converts, which meant also, possibly, an exit may be near. GERAKIS: Tell your leader we’re here to see him. TARI WORSHIPER 1: Why should Lord Mikquetzl bother with you? CERMAK: Mind your own business! Where’s Mikquetzl? TARI WORSHIPER 1: Forgive me. Lord Mikquetzl has tried to teach me humility, as the scars on my back prove, but I only seek to serve him. Lord Mikquettzl is in the temple to the northeast. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek looked around at the discarded trash and remains strewn about the dirty hall. K’RATCHEK: Why are all these skulls lying around? TARI WORSHIPER 1: They’re the remains of our sacrifices to the glorious Tectuktitlay. CILLA: What do you accomplish with your worship? TARI WORSHIPER 1: Lord Mikquetzl prepares to bring down the blessings of our great lord, Tectuktitlay. CILLA: What do you get out of it? TARI WORSHIPER 1: We shall share in the glory and bounty that is Tectuktitlay’s blessing! Already, Lord Mikquetzl has led us to stores of grain. GERAKIS: Where do you get the grain? TARI WORSHIPER 1: We take it from the unbelievers! The faithful must be strong to carry out the work of Tectuktitlay, Master of the Two Moons. I must return to my devotions. May you find glory in the radiance of Tectuktitlay. NARRATOR: They walked westward, following another stream of green sludge toward a rusty, overflowing grate somewhere. They passed by hollows in the wall, wherein Tari worshipers waited in either religious meditation or on guard should one of the warrens try to attack. TARI WORSHIPER 2: May you find glory in the radiance of Tectuktitlay. NARRATOR: The hollows in the wall, and the dirty conditions found therein were not very different than the slavepens above. TARI WORSHIPER 3: May you find glory in the radiance of Tectuktitlay. NARRATOR: They found a large wheel next to a door. Gerakis spun the mechanism, and the doorway parted. Inside were several Tari accompanied by a very out of place looking human, a templar, the one called Mikquetzl. He stood on a rug, one of several in this room, near a bloodied stone altar and a pile of skulls next to a flaming brazier. The templar addressed the party as they entered. MIKQUETZL: Finally, surface dwellers have come to seek my counsel. I am Mikquetzl, a high templar in the service of Tectuktitlay. I bring his word to these benighted creatures. NARRATOR: Mikquetzl wore long, dirty blond hair that fell over his weathered face. He wore a blonde beard, and his eyes were like dark shadows beneath his scowling brow. The party approached the man, and Cermak spoke. CERMAK: I, too, revere the mighty Tektuktitlay. MIKQUETZL: Excellent! The long-awaited day has arrived. Together we will sweep the sewers with fire and blade. All shall be cleansed for Tectuktitlay’s glory, and that rat-girl of the chief’s will die first! GERAKIS: Why do you wish to destroy the Tari? MIKQUETZL: I do this for Tectuktitlay! Until blood washes the blasphemers from these tunnels, I cannot regain his favor. It will not stop until I am the king’s favorite and my accusers writhe before me. CERMAK: What use is the girl to you? MIKQUETZL: Soon, we shall rid the sewers of that odious Skull Temple which offends the honor of Tectuktitlay! I will use the high warren chief’s daughter to prevent the unbelieving Tari from interfering. CILLA: What do you want us to do? MIKQUETZL: You shall lead my Tari in the great purification. Those who wrongly accused me shall be slaughtered, and I shall emerge from these depths unchallenged! As my slaves, you will share in my triumph! NARRATOR: By this point, it was clear the party had gotten themselves into a situation they could not escape from without either siding with or against this disgraced templar. Gerakis spoke aloud his thoughts. GERAKIS: (Regretfully) Is there no way to avoid this bloodbath? MIKQUETZL: (Thinking he was asked.) Except for my worshipers, these creatures worship skulls, not our sorcerer-king. Slaughtering them will return me to the king’s favor. You have arrived just in time to witness the sacrifice of a girl from the high warren. NARRATOR: There was no need for these four escaped slaves to deliberate with one another. GERAKIS: We refuse to take part in your evil plan. MIKQUETZL: You cannot oppose me! I am destined to rise again and be Tectuktitlay’s greatest templar. You, these pathetic creatures, anyone who challenges me – all will die! I need no one’s help to achieve my destiny. Guards! NARRATOR: The Tari worshipers converged on the party from inside the room. From behind, down the Southern path, more Tari were coming to ensnare the party. K’Ratchek darted away and intercepted one of the Tari who was approaching from the skull pile. She danced around behind him and slashed at him, slicing him open and slaying the rat-man before he could make a sound. She then attempted to cast Domination on Mikquetzl, but he resisted her psionic assault. NARRATOR: The half-giant Gerakis slew one of the nearby Tari in two massive, crushing blows. Cilla darted away from the clash, slipping around to the side where she attempted to flank one of the worshipers, but she missed, and then was herself flanked by another Tari, who hit her soundly with its club. NARRATOR: Seeing an opportunity, Gerakis broke from the Tari he was clashing to attack Mikquetzl himself. Gerakis hit him once, and again, and then Mikquetzl retreated back, taking cover behind the altar. More Tari came in from the south, and K’Ratchek caused an explosion underneath the Tari, which burned the two ratmen beside. Cermak finished one off with a magic missile, and slew another with his sword. Gerakis destroyed the third with his obsidian longsword. NARRATOR: Cilla clashed blades with the two ratmen. One of them managed another blow against her, but it was not as bad as the first. She wore the ratmen’s defenses down until she was able to slay them both. Cermak thrust his sword through what he thought was the last of the Tari worshipers, but two more were rushing up from the southern passage. Cilla fired arrows into them, killing one and wounding the other before Cermak slew it with a single strike from his sword. NARRATOR: The templar Mikquetzl cowered between the altar and the pile of skulls. He did not even manage a single strike against his foes. K’Ratchek, in her natural alacrity was slicing the man into shreds before he even knew she was upon him. NARRATOR: It was fortunate for the party he didn’t, for on his body was a set of expensive Chameleon Gloves. Little damage on their own, they had a chance to instantly blind those who were on the receiving end. Also on his body were some magic fruit and, like most templars, more ceramic pieces than they should have. Nearby they found a bone crank, and along the far wall was a wheel that would open a door. The wheel was dismantled, or broken, and seemed to be fashioned in just such a way so as that the bone crank would be required to manipulate it, like an improvised key and lock. Gerakis used the bone crank on the wheel and the door opened. The party entered what was a comparably ornate and well furnished bedroom. There was a female Tari bound and writhing on the floor. K’Ratchek walked over to a nearby chest and began looting while Cermak and Cilla rushed to the Tari. HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: Help me! Please untie me. That madman is preparing to attack the Skull Temple. I must warn my father! CILLA: Mikquetzl is dead. He won’t attack anyone. HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: It doesn’t matter – no, it’ll be worse. His followers are fanatics! They’ll want revenge. Please! You must untie me. NARRATOR: Cermak cut her bindings free. HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: Oh, thank you. I’m sure my father, the high warren chief, will reward your bravery, but we must go to him immediately. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek finished examining the ornate dresser and other expensive adornments, and Cilla had by now collected any extra arrows she could use, and the party left back the way they came. They turned one of the large wheels, opening a grate that led back out into the maze-like tunnels of the old, rotting sewer. CERMAK: (While moving) What’s all this about an attack? HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: (While moving) Mikquetzl planned to destroy the Skull Temple and enslave the Tari. He sent them to gather weapons before you came – oh, I hope it is not too late! NARRATOR: They followed another stream of putrid sewage down the long hall. CILLA: (While moving) How was Churrr mixed up in all this? HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: (While moving) Churrr is a bully! He will do anything for anybody, even the city troops, as long as he’s paid. GERAKIS: (While moving) Tell us about Mikquetzal HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: (While moving) He was insane! All he talked about was returning to power as Tectuktitlay’s templar. He was going to use the Tari as his personal army. GERAKIS: (While moving) How long has Mikquetzl been in the sewer? HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: (While moving) We ignored him at first because he seemed so pathetic. Beaten and disgraced, he hid for a long time. We forgot about him until he began recruiting his worshipers. NARRATOR: They followed the oozing stream to the north until they reached a passage the party had been to before. But the high warren chief’s daughter broke from the path and walked down a smaller, but less decayed hall. GERAKIS: (While moving) Tell us about Mikquetzl’s worshipers. HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: (While moving) They are misguided Tari, thinking that madman would take them to a better life outside the sewers. He will kill them as soon as their usefulness has ended. GERAKIS: (While moving) What was Mikquetzl’s disgrace? HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: (While moving) Oh, I don’t know. Something about being blamed for a slave uprising. NARRATOR: At last they came upon another grate, but with no nearby mechanism with which it could be opened. On the other side, a Tari guard approached. HIGH WARREN TARI GUARD: It is the chief’s daughter! How did you get her away from Mikquetzl? But it doesn’t matter. She is safe! The chief will want to talk to you right away. HIGH WARREN TARI GUARD: Hold on a minute and I’ll open the gate. NARRATOR: The door opened up. The guard beckoned them through. HIGH WARREN TARI GUARD: Do you want me to take you to the chief? GERAKIS: Yes. HIGH WARREN TARI GUARD: Then follow me. NARRATOR: They followed another snaking stream of green fluids through another series of decrepit halls. Tari sat alone in what must be their homes, little spaces in between brick partitions with straw beds and small ceramic bowls. The conditions here were actually slightly better than in the slavepens above, but for all the sewage. They turned south, and entered through a doorway the private chambers of the High Warrens Tari Chief. HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: My daughter! Blessings on all of you for bringing her home alive! HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: I am ashamed to ask more of such great heroes, but I must. The worshipers are attacking our sacred Skull Temple! CILLA: Are you sure? With Mikquetzl dead? HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: They are fanatics! Sentries spotted them headed east toward the temple. Please stop them before they destroy the Elders! CERMAK: We’ll help save the temple. HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: Oh, thank you! Your compassion is boundless. HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: The temple is just north of my chambers here. My guard will show you the way. NARRATOR: The chief’s guard escorted the party back the way they came, with the chief’s daughter right in tow. They just arrived at the location of the Skull Temple when the first sounds of battle were heard. NARRATOR: Three of Mikquetzl’s fanatical Tari were already in the temple, assaulting the two Tari within. The chief’s daughter, foolish but driven by the events that led this, she charged into battle and wedged herself in the temple’s entrance, blocking off further advancement from the invaders. NARRATOR: Cermak and K’Ratchek rushed to the southern entrance to stop the flow of invaders. Three tari were fighting to get through, and they had just slain the one Tari who tried to stop their advance. Inside the temple the invaders continued their attacks against the guards. Gerakis tried to intervene, but the chief’s daughter had created a blockage that kept anyone from getting through. Four invading Tari were trying to fight their way through her. Gerakis came from behind and slashed and chopped and eviscerated the invaders one by one until he got to the chief’s daughter, wounded but still alive. NARRATOR: Gerakis broke through the narrow passage and attacked the Tari invading the temple. He managed to slay them both before another defender was slain. Meanwhile, outside the temple, the battle was in full-force. Cermak and K’Ratchek fought off the Tari back to back while Cilla fired into the fray with her arrows. K’Ratchek cast Ego Whip on one of the Tari, causing it to be so disheartened that even defending oneself seemed too much, and he was taken down by an arrow from Cilla. NARRATOR: A few more Tari tried to come in from the south. They were late to the slaughter, but they were butchered just as the others. HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: You have saved the Skull Temple and rescued my daughter! You are most welcome to my treasure, and anything else I might give you! GERAKIS: How do we get out of the sewer? HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: Haven’t you spoken to the Skull Elders? They are the only ones who can tell you the way out of the sewers. NARRATOR: Gerakis did not know who the Skull Elders were, and hoped they were not one of the Tari guards who were slain in the temple during the battle. GERAKIS: Goodbye. HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: Goodbye. HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: Oh! Here is the helm I promised to give you. Please, accept it. NARRATOR: The High Warren Tari Chief handed them a WHAT IS THIS HELMET!!!! NARRATOR: They returned to the main living area of the High Warren. Tari bodies still lay among the broken foundation and dirty runoff. The high warren chief’s daughter greeted them warmly. HIGH WARREN CHIEF’S DAUGHTER: All the Tari are grateful for what you have done, but I, especially, have reason to thank you. I will never forget your heroism. NARRATOR: The party entered the area outside the Skull Temple, where the surviving Tari guards looked upon them with suspicion. One of them bared his teeth at the party, like two ivory stalactites suspended from the roof of his ratlike mouth. HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: Begone! You can’t come in here! GERAKIS: We come in peace. HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: Then you may stay if you swear you will not touch anything. Will you swear this? GERAKIS: Yes. HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: Then you may stay. If you wish, you may petition the Elders for their wisdom. GERAKIS: What is this Skull Temple for? HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: The Skull Temple is the sacred home of our ancestors. In times of crisis, the Tari who are worthy can seek the advice of the Elders. GERAKIS: Who are the Elders? HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: The Elders are the living memories of the Tari who died. GERAKIS: How are the Elders’ memories preserved? HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: The remains of the Tari who proved themselves worthy are given to Dagolar. Sometimes, a new skull later appears in the Temple with the memories of that Elder. CILLA: Who is Dagolar? HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: His nature is a sacred Mystery to the Tari. You must not ask such questions. GERAKIS: Why doesn’t a skull always appear? HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: Only Tari who are worthy become Elders. We often misjudge what makes one worthy. CERMAK: You seem different than the other Tari. HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: We were once like other Tari, but our devotion has changed our appearance as it has our minds. GERAKIS: How were you changed? HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: We have no memory of that Mystery. All I know is that long ago, a group of Tari was called on to seek Dagolar before their deaths. They returned as you see me, to become the Guardians of the Skulls. GERAKIS: What advice do the Elders give? HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: The Elders possess the accumulated knowledge of our entire history. There is no question they cannot answer, and their advice is the sagest you can receive. CILLA: I’ve heard enough about your skulls. HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: (Angrilly) Such knowledge was not intended for your kind. GERAKIS: This is a crisis. May I see the Elders? HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: (Reluctant) Use this bone crank. It will turn the wheel. NARRATOR: Gerakis took the bone crank and turned a nearby wheel that was fastened to the wall. A large door opened, revealing the innermost sanctum of this temple, a small room with little more than some grain, a few bowls, an animal’s hide hung on the wall like a tapestry, a brazier, and three Tari skulls sitting on the floor. Gerakis walked up to them, and one of the Elder Skulls spoke. TARI ELDER SKULL 1: Who speaks to the Elders of the Tari? GERAKIS: I’m Gerakis. NARRATOR: Another of the skulls spoke. TARI ELDER SKULL 2: Gerakis, are you the hero who vanquished the defilers of our sacred temple? GERAKIS: Yes. TARI ELDER SKULL 2: You are worthy of great praise! TARI ELDER SKULL 1: How can the Elders help you? GERAKIS: Who are you? TARI ELDER SKULL 1: We are the Elders of the high warrens. When our Tari bodies died, our remains were taken to Dagolar to be reborn in this form. Do you need our aid? GERAKIS: I seek guidance. NARRATOR: Outside the temple, the temple guard shouted at Cilla. HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: Return that item! How dare you steal from this temple?! CILLA: I apologize. Here you go. HIGH WARREN SKULL TEMPLE GUARD: Control yourself in the future. NARRATOR: In the inner sanctum, the elder skull continued. TARI ELDER SKULL 1: To provide guidance is our sole purpose, as Dagolar instructed. Our knowledge is great, our wisdom profound. TARI ELDER SKULL 2: Ask, and we shall enlighten you. GERAKIS: Who is Dagolar? TARI ELDER SKULL 1: Dagolar is a man of infinite knowledge. It was he who preserved our thoughts in these bones. TARI ELDER SKULL 2: Dagolar is the reason for the Tari. GERAKIS: You mean Dagolar made the Tari? NARRATOR: The third elder skull spoke. TARI ELDER SKULL 3: Such knowledge is forbidden to the uninitiated. GERAKIS: Who are the initiated ones? TARI ELDER SKULL 3: The answer to your question is beyond your understanding. GERAKIS: Where is Dagolar? TARI ELDER SKULL 3: Some questions are better left unasked. GERAKIS: Some questions must be asked, yes? TARI ELDER SKULL 3: The wisdom of the Elders must be given out carefully. Young minds are fragile. NARRATOR: Gerakis asked the skulls if they can tell him about Draj. TARI ELDER SKULL 1: I know a great many things. The whole of Draj is stirring, moving toward fateful events. Beware, if Tectuktitlay completes the pyramid, all of Athas is threatened. GERAKIS: Why is Draj stirring? TARI ELDER SKULL 3: The answer to your question is beyond your understanding. GERAKIS: What events are you talking about? TARI ELDER SKULL 3: Such knowledge is forbidden to the uninitiated. GERAKIS: (Frustrated) How long until the pyramid is finished? TARI ELDER SKULL 1: The sorcerer-king is forever working on the pyramid. TARI ELDER SKULL 2: Its completion is inevitable. GERAKIS: Tell me about the sorcerer-king. TARI ELDER SKULL 3: Some questions are better left unasked. NARRATOR: It was becoming clear these skulls were unwilling to provide little more than hints and riddles to the uninitiated. GERAKIS: How do we get out of the sewers? TARI ELDER SKULL 2: As you’ve helped us, so will we help you. TARI ELDER SKULL 1: Two exits lead from the sewers to the fields outside of Draj. GERAKIS: Where are the exits? TARI ELDER SKULL 1: The main outflow is in the flushing tunnels, but beware, city troops frequently search the main outflow of the sewers. GERAKIS: Where is the other exit? TARI ELDER SKULL 1: There is a passage in the flushing tunnels as well. TARI ELDER SKULL 2: But beware of the Tyrian slimes that infest that area. GERAKIS: How do I find it if it’s hidden? TARI ELDER SKULL 3: That is the nature of things hidden. GERAKIS: I beseech your sage wisdom, how is it found? TARI ELDER SKULL 3: You may thank me for my generosity another time. In my wisdom, I have learned to forgive the hasty manners of youth. TARI ELDER SKULL 3: A lever is hidden in one of the drains. Pulling it unlocks a secret door, but you must be careful not to trigger the trap. The tunnel beyond leads to the fields. GERAKIS: Thank you for sharing your wisdom. TARI ELDER SKULL 3: Leave us now. TARI ELDER SKULL 1: We must ruminate over recent events. TARI ELDER SKULL 2: Good luck in your adventures. NARRATOR: Gerakis stepped out of the inner sanctum and rejoined his party. They rested, and gathered their things, preparing to visit the flushing tunnels and search for this secret exit. Before they left, the High Warren Chief spoke to them one last time. HIGH WARREN TARI CHIEF: I can never repay you for saving my daughter’s life and for saving the Skull Temple. Though I have only gratitude and a safe haven left to offer, I give it to you in thanks. Rest as long as you like – none here will disturb you. NARRATOR: They approached the gate that led out of the High Warrens. The Tari guard who had earlier brought them to the chief opened it for them. HIGH WARREN TARI GUARD: Hello, warriors. Our debt of thanks to you can never fully be repaid. You are brave heroes and have taught us that not all surface-dwellers are cruel and selfish. NARRATOR: They journeyed through the twisting sewer passageways, now somewhat more familiar with their surroundings. They navigated the tunnels, following the green streams and path of decaying tile until they found a large basin of waste water. They walked along its perimeter, until suddenly accosted by a horde of Tyrian slimes. NARRATOR: The slimes were not especially dangerous but for their amorphous bodies and quick maneuvering that constantly kept the party expending their energies on misses. Cilla blessed the party, which aided in their attacks. Gerakis could decimate the slimes in one or two hits – if he could hit them. Cermak had better luck firing magic missiles at the blobby monsters. K’Ratchek’s was like the wind, her flurry of blows faster than most foes could deflect, but she landed not a single strike against the slimes. NARRATOR: When one slime was destroyed, two more seemed to appear from the West or the South. The party split into two, Gerakis and K’Ratchek taking on the slimes coming from the West, and Cermak and Cilla holding off the Southern invaders. NARRATOR: Just as the slimes were felled, a trio of large green sligs appeared and hopped aggressively toward the party. Gerakis and K’Ratchek charged forward to meet them. Gerakis slew one immediately, and the other slig struck out against K’Ratchek, doing minimal damage. Cermak and Cilla raced to catch up, but by then two sligs were dead and the third soon to be. The progression of this conflict drew them northward, toward what appeared to be the main outflow of this place. Gerakis and K’Ratchek could have slew him, but Cilla shot it down with an arrow. NARRATOR: Suddenly, there was a shout. DRAJIAN GUARD 1: Stop right where you are, slave! NARRATOR: From the North appeared three Draj guards. They came in from the North on two platforms divided in the middle by the outflow. A handful of stones or debris sticking out of the sewage allowed the party to also split, this time with Cilla and K’Ratchek running to meet the guards on the left, Gerakis meeting the guards on the right, and Cermak remaining behind because at that moment another three more sligs were approaching from the South. NARRATOR: Gerakis struck down the first guard in his way and moved on to the next. He struck him twice, then a third time, killing him as two more guards appeared. On the left, K’Ratchek leaped in front of Cilla to tear apart the guard charging her. She slashed at the guard, hitting him twice. NARRATOR: One of the sligs turned around and retreated Westward. Cermak pursued, catching up to it, and hit it with his sword, but did not kill it. The slig in turn attacked Cermak and struck a very lucky blow against him. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek sliced the guard again, killing him, then ran to the next, tearing into him as well. Cilla caught up to K’Ratchek, and together they fought the two guards here side by side. On the other side of the outflow, Gerakis managed to slay two guards with little trouble, and then two more guards appeared. NARRATOR: Cermak slew the slig and then raced back to the outflow where the other two sligs were hopping along to flank K’Ratchek and Cilla. Cilla, having taken a bit of damage, stepped out of the fight and cast Cure Light Wounds on herself. K’Ratchek killed the last of the guards she was dealing with and once more stepped between Cilla and the oncoming foe, the large green slig. K’Ratchek killed it, just as Cermak ran his sword through the other. And on the other side, Gerakis wildly annihilated the remaining guards. He stood over a pile of seven dead guards. He was wounded, but only a little. NARRATOR: Beyond here was the exit from the sewer, but the opted to keep going until they found the secret exit the Tari Elder Skulls had spoken of. They move Eastward, checking the drains, finding just filth, skulls, and sometimes broken pottery. At last, Cermak reached int a drain and found a level concealed within. He also removed the cleverly concealed trap attached to it. He pulled the lever, and a section of the wall opened up, revealing the secret exit. NARRATOR: The party walked down the little-used egress. Just as they were about to leave the sewer, the air about them crackled with magical discharges as the unmistakable presence of a dragon loomed near. He created a mindlink and challenged them. COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: You will go no further unless you answer my question…. COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: The 7th word on page 7, line 3, begins with the letter ‘g’. What is that word? CERMAK: Goal? COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: You have said ‘goal’. Is this your final answer? CERMAK: Yes. COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: Do not try my patience with false answers! COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: The 3rd word on page 9, line 3, begins with the letter ‘c’. What is that word? CILLA: Class? COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: You have said ‘class’. Is this your final answer? CILLA: Yes. COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: Your blundering answers would be amusing if you were not about to die! Now… COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: The 2nd word on page 15, line 2, begins with the letter ‘p’. What is that word? GERAKIS: Power. COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: You have said ‘power’. Is this your final answer? GERAKIS: Yes. COPY PROTECTION DRAGON: Your answer suffices. I leave you now, but do not doubt that I shall return. NARRATOR: Through the secret entrance they could see the sky above. It was a tight fit, but the passage would accommodate all of them. One by one, they ascended into what awaited them above.
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Dec 18, 2018 08:35
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EPISODE 03 (Part 1) NARRATOR: The insectoid thri-kreen K’Ratchek was the first out of the hole. Then came the half-elf Cilla, and the human Cermak. Lastly was the huge half-giant Gerakis. NARRATOR: They were in the Fields of Draj, an expansive plot of land filled with all the crops that keep Draj fed. Serfs worked in the fields, toiling away from morning to night. A raised dirt path partitioned the farmland into a kind of grid, with each cell dedicated to a particular crop. To the Southwest was a field of tall, golden grain. In the Southeast there was a field producing thick, green stalks upon which grew bright blue bulbs. A nearby serf was running his farming tools over the dirt. Gerakis approached the serf. DRAJ FARM SERF 1: Who are you? We don’t get visitors here – they’re usually escapees, and they wind up dead. NARRATOR: The serf was an older man, skinny with deeply tanned skin. He wore a straw hat, and had a large blonde beard. GERAKIS: Where are we? DRAJ FARM SERF 1: Where? Here, of course. You’re in the fields outside of Draj. NARRATOR: While the fields may technically be outside of Draj, everyone working the fields as well as the newly arrived escaped slaves were still yet trapped within the confines of tall walls and armed guards. After the battles in the arena, the escape through the slavepens, the conflict in the sewers, they still were not yet free. GERAKIS: What are you doing here? DRAJ FARM SERF 1: I’m tending the crops. I’m too old to fight in the pits, and too weak to help with the pyramid, so here I am. Such is the fate of all the old slaves. Cermak, angry and impatient, stepped forward and spoke to the serf. CERMAK: How do we get out of here? DRAJ FARM SERF 1: Get out? The only way out is death. Guards patrol the gates, and vicious animals live in the wilderness outside. NARRATOR: Some of the crops growing were as tall, if not taller than K’Ratchek. She stretched her head and looked around. Though surrounded by walls, this was a large place. K’RATCHEK: How many guards patrol the gates? DRAJ FARM SERF 1: It used to be that only a few guards patrolled the gates, but lately more and more guards have been posted here. Within a few days, they’ll have armies at the edge of the city! GERAKIS: Why is Draj massing troops? DRAJ FARM SERF 1: I’ve heard they’re planning a massive campaign, but I don’t know against who. Whoever it turns out to be is going to be destroyed though – Draj’s army is almost unstoppable! NARRATOR: K’Ratchek continued scouting around. They could see many guards posted in the North, and some were patrolling. The party seemed to be safe for the moment, here in the middle of the field, obscured by the tall crops growing around them. CILLA: Can we sneak past the guards? DRAJ FARM SERF 1: Impossible – even if you could, the monsters outside would rip you to pieces. GERAKIS: Tell us about the wilderness outside. DRAJ FARM SERF 1: All you need to know is to stay out of it! Vile creatures live there – I’ve seen what they do when they catch living victims! Trust me, it’s worse than staying here and dealing with the guards. GERAKIS: Can anyone in here help us? DRAJ FARM SERF 1: Old One-Eye is the wisest slave in the fields. But he’ll tell you the same – the only escape from here is death. GERAKIS: Where is Old One-Eye? DRAJ FARM SERF 1: He tries to stay in the middle of the field so we can find him when we need to. I have to get back to work now. Goodbye. NARRATOR: They set out to explore this place and seek out the man they called Old One-Eye. The party walked along the raised earthen causeway, with tall grains growing on one side and on the other a wetlands with tall green reeds sprouting from the muddy water. A serf was working close to the causeway. Gerakis attempted to speak with him, but the serf turned away. DRAJ FARM SERF 2: Leave me. The guards would beat me if they caught me talking to you. NARRATOR: They continued on, passing other serfs working hard in the field. They passed by a row of what looked like enormous tomatoes and were suddenly beset by a Drajian guard. DRAJIAN GUARD 2: Stay away from here, slaves! I will only warn you once! NARRATOR: The guard apparently did not recognize these slaves as fitting any description of those escaped from the arena. The other guards nearby were busy talking to one another next to a tall wall made of bones. The part turned around and explored the fields in the other direction. NARRATOR: They walked under beside a colorful row of fruit-bearing trees. Under the canopy of lush green leaves the party encountered a serf who was excited to see them. SERF FRUIT SELLER: You’re not from here – I’d know. If you’re interested, I can sell you some fruit – just picked! GERAKIS: What kind of fruit? SERF FRUIT SELLER: Only the finest – direct from Draj’s fields. I’ve got some pears, grapes, lemons, and even some corn. CERMAK: Aren’t these crops for the city? SERF FRUIT SELLER: Look, do you want the fruit or not? GERAKIS: Yes. SERF FRUIT SELLER: Good. Then don’t ask any questions. Be satisfied with the knowledge that you’re helping to starve some noble in the city. CILLA: Why aren’t you tending the fields? SERF FRUIT SELLER: Ssshh! Do you want the guards to hear? If they find out I’m selling crops…. I’d rather not think about it. GERAKIS: Okay, we’ll buy something. SERF FRUIT SELLER: Let’s get down to business. NARRATOR: As promised, he had a unique supply of fruit. He had for 400 ceramic pieces a pear, that which, upon eaten, would bestow upon the user the spell Cure Light Wounds. A lemon for 500 ceramics would restore one’s lost psionic strength. For 175, some green grapes would cast Bless. The corn for 250 would bestow Barkskin on the user. Yellow grapes for 425 could detoxify any sort of poison or venom. Similar to the guava, a fruit this man was selling for one hundred ceramic pieces, which could either rescue a person from poison, or it could kill them. The party negotiated a trade, offering him many of the things they recovered from the slavepens and the sewer. The scrolls in particular were very valuable to this man, and since the party had spellcasters capable of conjuring such magical wonders on their own, there was no reason to hang on to them. SERF FRUIT SELLER: Nothing but the finest! NARRATOR: The party departed. SERF FRUIT SELLER: Come back if you need fruit. NARRATOR: They crossed a small bridge that kept them dry over a large stream of water that branched off further south into many rivulets and streams to irrigate the fields. They passed under many fruit trees, some green, some yellow, a few burgundy and brown. They countered a man here looking out over the running water. He had shaggy white hair and thick white eyebrows. He had a large earring, a single item of some value that stood out in stark contrast against the rags afforded to one of his station. Where his left eye should have been was a dark hollow socket. OLD ONE-EYE: Hello, strangers. I’m old One-Eye. CERMAK: Help us get out of here. OLD ONE-EYE: You’re not thinkin’ of escape, are you? Those guards’ll cut your fingers off if you try. Even if you pass ‘em, your brains’ll boil out in the desert. NARRATOR: The party asked about what to expect outside the walls. OLD ONE-EYE: The desert’s a nightmare. Years ago, I was out there myself, grubbin’ for water. That’s the worst problem – don’t matter how many monsters there are if you’re a thirsty pile o’ bones. CILLA: How did you survive in the desert? OLD ONE-EYE: I stayed with the merchant caravans, but that’s just as bad as stayin’ in the desert. Lots of those people’d just as soon cut your throat as anything else. NARRATOR: Cilla was a child of nature who was on her way to becoming a druid. She asked about animals that could be found in the wilds surrounding Draj, but the old man had only a callous response. OLD ONE-EYE: Whatever horrors you can imagine are out there. The worst I ever saw was a sink worm. It attacked us on the scrub plains. I escaped, but it took my eye. GERAKIS: How could we escape? OLD ONE-EYE: The main way out’s past the guards at the gate. You gotta distract ‘em, so you can attack ‘fore they know what’s goin’ on. Slaves have done it before – it’s just difficult. GERAKIS: Where do the escaped slaves go? OLD ONE-EYE: Some escaped slaves band together and make villages. Don’t last long, though. They run out of water ‘fore they know it, then they die or come crawlin’ back to take their punishment. CERMAK: Get to the point! How do we get out? OLD ONE-EYE: You’re not escapin’ from here. Give up on that idea and get comfortable where you are. NARRATOR: Nobody said anything for a moment. Then the one-eyed man spoke again. OLD ONE-EYE: Come on back any time. Most’ve my friends are dead by now, or sent off. I’m glad for the company. NARRATOR: They left the old man under the fruit trees and continued to explore this area. They followed one of the irrigation streams eastward, careful not to get too close to the guards. They passed by a plot of trees with red pears hanging from its branches, and a serf standing alone in the middle of the field motioned to them. The party walked northward, along the raised earthen pathway, and met with the man. ESCAPE SERF: You’re escaped slaves, right? Don’t worry – I won’t tell the guards. Actually, if you’re interested, I’ve got a proposition for you. CERMAK: What’s the proposition? ESCAPE SERF: I’ve got an item I’ll give you if you can help me get out of here – all I ask is that you let me follow you. CILLA: And what would the item be? ESCAPE SERF: You know that stone pedestal by the drainage pipe? There was a gem in the middle, but someone stole it, and now I know where it is. I’ll give it to you if you let me follow. GERAKIS: Okay. You’ve got a deal. ESCAPE SERF: Great! Let me get it…. NARRATOR: The serf reached into his tunic and produced a large gem. He handed it to Gerakis. ESCAPE SERF: Here – take it and let’s get going! NARRATOR: This man probably would not be especially helpful in combat, but he was an oppressed person yearning for freedom. Maybe he would have connections on the outside. It would be worth it to keep him safe. NARRATOR: The party ventured southward to where the serf mentioned finding the gem. Next to large leafy trees, they found it, a round stone cylinder with a hole wherein the gem would fit perfectly. They didn’t yet understand the function of these pillars, but in time maybe they would. Gerakis sensed a magical aura emanating from the hole. He installed the gem, where it stuck fastly. NARRATOR: Cilla checked with the serf. ESCAPE SERF: Lead the way! I’m counting on you to get me out of here! NARRATOR: The guards to the East were too plentiful, and the only thing in that direction was Draj. They walked through the fields toward the North, and again encountered Old One-Eye. The old man looked at them with a melancholy expression. OLD ONE-EYE: Since you’ve been kind enough to listen to me rattle on, I’ll help you get out of here. OLD ONE-EYE: There are two ways out of here. One is past the guards, and I can help you there. The other is to the east – there’s a weak spot in the bone-wall. If you can knock it down, you can get out. Which do you want to try? NARRATOR: The party considered the options. The half-giant Gerakis could probably break through the wall, if it were weak enough, but it was risky. If Old One-Eye could get the guards to look away, the party – and the accompanying serf – might be able to slip out unnoticed. CERMAK: Can you distract the guards? OLD ONE-EYE: Follow me and I’ll distract the guards for you. Keep behind me so they won’t see you, and don’t approach until I distract them. NARRATOR: Old One-Eye crossed over a landbridge and walked along the path next to some trees bearing large pink bulbous fruits. The party kept a distance, keeping the old man in sight but not veering too close. When they could clearly see the guards, they stopped, and waited while Old One-Eye distracted them. The old man walked up to the edge of the embankment of the stream separating him from the guards, but he seemed to suddenly hesitate. He looked behind, then walked back to the party. OLD ONE-EYE: (Annoyed) Keep in sight, or you won’t be able to jump the guards when I distract ‘em. NARRATOR: Jumping the guards was not part of the plan, but before anyone could object, K’Ratchek spoke. K’RATCHEK: Okay. Lead on! OLD ONE-EYE: Right. Let’s go. NARRATOR: They followed closer than before, even moving in so close to the guards that they must certainly see them. For now, they must think the party as just more serfs working in the field. The one-eyed man approached one of the guards. DRAJIAN GUARD 3: What do you want, One-Eye? Get back to work! OLD ONE-EYE: Someone’s over by the outflow tubes! Look! An intruder! DRAJIAN GUARD 3: What?! We’ll check it out. Let’s go, men! NARRATOR: The guards all ran eastward, abandoning the gate and leaving the exit open. Old One-Eye stayed behind and urged the party on. OLD ONE-EYE: Get movin’! More guards’ll be here soon, lookin’ for you. NARRATOR: They passed the old man and approached the gate. Just then, they heard the guards yelling in the distance. DRAJIAN GUARD 3: There’s no one here! One-Eye must have tricked us! Come on! The gate in unguarded! NARRATOR: The party rushed to the gate, but just then one of the guards spotted them. DRAJIAN GUARD 4: Hey, you there! Stop right now! NARRATOR: They did. Not because they were ordered to, but because they needed a moment to prepare for the fight. DRAJIAN GUARD 4: Hey! You don’t look like field slaves…. Wait…. Escaping gladiators! Stop them! NARRATOR: The guards charged the party with their longswords in hand. There was six of them, and the one who shouted was first to reach an escapee. He slashed at K’Ratchek several times, but did not land a single hit. Cilla, just to the man’s left, ran her sword through him and then steadied herself for the other five. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek ran ahead to harry the guards in the back; she took a hit in her reckless sprint, but it was a minor wound. One of the guards slashed Cermak for a small amount of damage. Cermak retaliated, and hit, but did not slay the man. Another guard now had joined the other in attacking Cermak. Fortunately, Cilla was now away from the center of this chaos and able to launch a magic missile, which killed one of the guards Cermak was fighting. K’Rachek jumped on another, and slashed his face apart with five rapid blows, killing him. NARRATOR: The serf who had come along with the party was suddenly under fire himself. One of the guards had managed to break through the bulwark of gladiators and attacked the unarmed and unarmored slave. The slave still lived, and Gerakis was able to save him before another strike could land on the poor farmer. NARRATOR: The last of the guards were destroyed by Cerman and K’Ratchek in melee, and Cilla firing arrows and magic missiles. NARRATOR: The gate was now unguarded; six corpses lay on the edge of the earthen platform, just inches from falling into the running water below. The old one-eyed serf had fled during the battle, presumably to return to his place in the fields. NARRATOR: Cilla was able to pick the lock on the gate. Beyond them was the desert. They were finally out of Draj. NARRATOR: They walked northward over soft, wind-swept sand, creating tiny dunes that looked like a sea of serpents hiding just under. Around them were tall rocky hills and cliffs. There was little vegetation out here besides the cacti. NARRATOR: They came upon a corpse, half-buried in the sand, the dried blood around its throat not yet buried by the sand. The body had not been here for long. NARRATOR: But the serf accompanying the party either didn’t see the body, or didn’t care. He turned around to address the party. ESCAPE SERF: Well, thanks for your help, but I’ve got to be going. Don’t worry about me – I’m more than enough for any monster. I’d give you some advice about survival out here, but I’m afraid it’s too technical for you barbarians. ESCAPE SERF: Good luck. NARRATOR: The serf left the party and walked northward. He passed the body without even glancing at it. K’Ratchek searched the body. The only thing she found was a scroll, still clutched in the dead man’s hand. The scroll read: RAJAK: (Voice over like he is writing it) It was urgent that you received this message, so I have taken a risk and excused myself from the company of the commanders to pen this. RAJAK: I have grave news. Tectuktitlay’s armies are indeed massing, though not for some far away campaign – they are massing against us! RAJAK: I have learned that soon now, the armies will march into the wastes to wipe our village and others like it from the face of Athas. We are in grave danger, and I felt that you must know immediately. RAJAK: I beg of you, take what you can and leave the village to the winds! It seems to that the visionary’s prophecy looks more like the ravings of a madman and less like the true gift for foresight. I see no band of ‘Heroes’ that will come and save us from the might of Draj’s army, nor can we rely on it any longer. RAJAK: I will send this message by my most trusted servant – I pray he reaches you before the armies do. RAJAK: I will try and report to you again if I can, but I fear that I am already under suspicion, so this may well be the last you hear from me. May fortune protect us all. Rajak. NARRATOR: The note was put away for now. Looking ahead, the escaped serf was still making his way northward, but he suddenly stopped. ESCAPE SERF: Hey! The sand moved! NARRATOR: Suddenly a bulette burst from the sand and in one quick motion swallowed the escaping serf whole. It then dove back under the sand, but it was charging at the party with such intensity that the sand blew away on either side of it, and it could not hide. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek attacked the landshark, and Gerakis also struck it before it could attack. The bulette chomped the half-giant strongly. Cermak and Cilla stepped back to provide support; Cermak fired magic missiles and Cilla shot at it with her arrows. The bulette managed another powerful bite upon Gerakis, but nothing more. With one last slash from her claws, K’Ratchek defeated the landshark. NARRATOR: They checked their belongings and made sure they were properly armored and armed, and set out again into the desert, now on alert for more landsharks that could be burrowed, waiting for prey to wander too close. They spotted a small camp not far to the West, from which an old man was walking. He was too far away to help, but he did see everything that took place. The party met him halfway. He spoke, a weathered and tanned man underneath thick white hair and beard. EGRUS: Hey you! If you’re smart you’ll ignore what that scroll says and get on with your lives – at least what time you have left in them. CERMAK: Who are you? EGRUS: I’m Egrus. You look like slaves – escaped, did you? No matter. When the army comes through, it won’t matter if you’ve escaped or not. GERAKIS: You read the scroll? EGRUS: Yes, I did, and I left it there to rot with the body. Nothing can protect us now. The villages are better off not knowing about the army; at least then they won’t have time to fear – not much, at least. GERAKIS: Where are these villages? EGRUS: They’re scattered around the wastes. The one that slave was bound for was Teaquetzl – I was originally from there, but I left. If you head north, you’ll find it. CERMAK: Do you know who this was? EGRUS: No, and I don’t care to know who it was. All I know is that I know more than I want to. I left the villages to get away from the fear of Draj’s army, and now I see that there is no escape from it – even out here. NARRATOR: Cilla asked what Egrus knew about Teaquetzl. EGRUS: Of course I know about Teaquetzl, that was my home before I came here. It’s nice enough, but it won’t last – none of them will. The armies will sweep across the wastes and destroy everything in their path. NARRATOR: The old man’s camp was strategically located in the sand, in a crux of a tall rocky cliffside, under its shadow. He had many pots and pans, some fabric hung up to protect one from the sun, and a campfire. He allowed the party to rest there before setting out again. As they departed, he warned them one last time. EGRUS: Forget you ever read that scroll – it’ll be easier that way. NARRATOR: They wandered back into the desert and headed north, toward Teaquetzl, where they may find refuge and respite, and maybe even a new start. If Draj’s armies don’t overrun it before they get there. NARRATOR: After some time plodding through the desert, the lines in the sand began to look the same, and they had to stop and survey their surroundings. When they set out again, they saw in the distance what looked like a person. They hurried to catch up to it. NARRATOR: It was near a half-buried skull of some enormous creature that they finally encountered the wandering person. It was a female Ssurran, a reptilian race of nomads. Often times, Ssurrans turn to raiding in order to feed their tribes. Gerakis approached cautiously. LAUSSA: What do you wish of me, unscaled one? GERAKIS: I just want to talk. LAUSSA: Then talk on. I am not in the mood to hunt you. GERAKIS: Who are you? LAUSSA: I am Laussa, once of the Grey Isles tribe. NARRATOR: Upon hearing what sounded like another atrocity from Draj’s armies, Cermak stepped forward and addressed the ssurran. CERMAK: (Concerned) What happened to your tribe? LAUSSA: It was in the isles when I left. It may be there still. K’RATCHEK: How can we get there? LAUSSA: There used to be a tunnel that connected the merchants’ isle with a cliff at the edge of the Silt Sea, but it has collapsed. GERAKIS: Can you show us the tunnel? LAUSSA: Why?! The tunnel is blocked – there is no way to get through. Besides, I never want to go back there! I seek a new tribe to the south. GERAKIS: You seem upset. Is something wrong? LAUSSA: An unscaled family lives in a large house on the isle. They are the cause of my misery. They corrupted one of my own and had my mate murdered. CERMAK: Murdered? What happened? LAUSSA: My mate, Kivssan, was chief – no better hunter could be found. The merchant family wanted the tribe to become its peddlers. Kivssan refused. Dirssa, one who had embraced your grasping ways, challenged him. GERAKIS: Grasping ways? I don’t understand. LAUSSA: Your kind always grasps for things, if only for the sake of grasping for them. The more things that you can hold, the more powerful you are to others, and the more you try to grasp other things. That is the way of your kind – you value material. NARRATOR: Cermak brought the conversation back to the matter of Dirssa challenging Kivssan. CERMAK: What happened then? LAUSSA: We laughed as I prepared Kivssan for battle – Dirssa was weak. But in battle, Dirssa’s strength was ten times what it had been, and Kivssan was gutted. The tribe lost its honor with his death, and I left to seek a new tribe – away from your kind. CERMAK: Why do you blame the merchants? LAUSSA: There was no way that Dirssa could have become stronger unless the merchant worked some magic upon him. Who else would want to make us peddlers? Anyway, Dirssa was too cowardly to challenge Kivssan without some backing. GERAKIS: What is the merchants’ isle? LAUSSA: A trading village on an island in the silt sea. Many merchants visit there – it is on many of the trade routes. NARRATOR: They noted these directions, as their journey may one day take them there. Before they parted ways with Laussa, Gerakis asked one more question pertaining to one of the first things she had said to them. GERAKIS: Why are you not in the mood to hunt us? LAUSSA: I have seen ssurrans betray their souls. It becomes a minor thing to talk to prey. GERAKIS: We must be going. Goodbye. LAUSSA: May you always find prey. NARRATOR: The party went North while Laussa continued on south alone in search of a new home. After some time, the escaped gladiator slaves were able to find the path that would take them all the way to Teaquetzl. They set out then for the village in hopes it was not yet overrun by the Drajian army. TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Halt! What’s your business here in Teaquetzl? NARRATOR: The party had finally arrived. The settlement was encased within very tall stone walls of equal to or perhaps better quality than the ramparts found at the Fields of Draj. The tall walls funneled the party into the town, forcing them to approach almost single-file, which would ensure they would be at a severe disadvantage should the town perceive them as a threat. NARRATOR: Hoping to avoid hostilities, Gerakis stepped forward and introduced himself. GERAKIS: I’m Gerakis – TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Yeah? That supposed to mean something to me? GERAKIS: We just want some water. TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Water ain’t free, you know. Fee is 50 chips. Are you going to pay? GERAKIS: Yes.
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Jan 4, 2019 13:15
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Episode 03 (Part 2) NARRATOR: Gerakis spoke before the others could object to the guard’s racketeering. It was more important they enter this village with as little attention as they could. TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: (Like a smug piece of poo poo) Well’s in the center of town. NARRATOR: They looked around themselves. They could see the well, a stone-and-clay structure with a roof over it. Nearby was a man and a stall with a colorful cloth draped over it. He appeared to be working on something. NARRATOR: Beyond the well was a very large building. To the East and West were many different structures, all built out of patchwork and salvaged supplies, but built with skill and intended for longevity. The buildings all stood upon the omnipresent desert sand. NARRATOR: Another guard stood nearby a tall crimson banner. He, like the other, had black hair and a dark, bronze skin. The men of Teaquetzl appeared to wear their hair long, as opposed to the Drajians who all wore their hair very short. GERAKIS: Tell us about your village. TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: We’re more prosperous than many slave villages, but if you believe that visionary, we won’t last much longer. GERAKIS: Who is this visionary? TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: He’s a crazed halfling. Chahl found him stumbling about the desert and the lunatic’s been ranting ever since. K’RATCHEK: What does the visionary say? TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Go talk to Chahl about it. I don’t listen to the visionary’s blustering. None of it’s true. Draj isn’t going to waste the effort on slave villages way out in the desert. CILLA: Why is the village prosperous? TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Water enough for everyone, that’s why. You must’ve heard of our well. Dominy built it when Teaquetzl was founded. It’s never failed. NARRATOR: Gerakis recalled the slave woman, Gilal, mentioned a well digger named Dominy. GERAKIS: Who is Dominy? TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Dominy is the well master. He oversees water distribution and keeps up the wellhead. He’s a genius in his own way and very proud of the well. he’s always tinkering with it. NARRATOR: Cermak asked about the village leader, the person called Chahl. TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Our leader, Chahl, takes care of us well enough. A little slow on the uptake, but he’s a stout one, no mistake. CERMAK: What do you mean slow? TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Just say he’ll never be a sage. Bothers some people, but not me. A strong sword arm is what a leader needs – been good enough for Teaquetzl so far. K’RATCHEK: Why is Chahl the leader? TEAQUETZL GUARD 1: Chahl founded the village. Escaped from slavery in Nibenay and crossed the Silt Sea to get here – can’t do that without being good! He’s the best warrior here and that’s enough. NARRATOR: The party left the guard and walked along a well-worn path in the otherwise endless pattern of wavy sand. Another guard, this man with wild, voluminous hair as dark as the night passed by. Cermak attempted to speak with him. TEAQUETZL GUARD 2: Excuse me, but I must patrol the village. If you notice any spies, report them at once. NARRATOR: The party continues up the path in the sand until they reach the well. Inside is the healthiest looking water they’ve seen since appearing at the slavepens. Its blue color is a shade unlike anything they’ve encountered so far. They greedily drink of its refreshing contents. DOMINY: Hello, traveler. Watch your use of the well. I don’t mind giving water to thirsty strangers, but I’ll not have ‘em abusing it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m quite busy. NARRATOR: Their thirst sated, they walked down to the southeastern part of the settlement. Several buildings were found here, allowing the individuals that resided within a personal space alien to the gladiators. They approached one of the buildings and peered inside. NARRATOR: Inside was a large room with a partition in the middle dividing it in two. Tables were stacked with miscellany, carpets placed about the room but chaotically and not flat. On the wall were large pictures depicting reptilian or demonic beings. A pile of knuckle bones were in one part of the room. NARRATOR: Standing in the middle of this place was a man with long, black hair that spilled over his face, upon which were long red and blue streaks descending from his eyes down to his neck. He looked at the party with crazed eyes. VISIONARY: You have come! The Shadows of my visions are Flesh. The Veil is lifted to reveal the Face of freedom. CILLA: What are you talking about? VISIONARY: Walk the narrow Path! Your fate is waiting while across the sand Death stalks the hare. GERAKIS: Who are you? VISIONARY: I am the Voice. You are the Hand. Take hold your doom! Before the Wold devours the land! CILLA: You are the voice of what? VISIONARY: The Voice of the Wind that blows away obscuring sand and breathes life into the shadows. GERAKIS: Why do you call us the hand? VISIONARY: Dread Hand held high, to stay the axe’s fall. Each star, each moon – all one fearful symmetry. CILLA: What wolf are you talking about? VISIONARY: Jealous of the moons’ sway, the Wolf gorges on their brilliance in endless gluttony. Now the feast is spread, his prey at hand. K’RATCHEK: The sun has blasted your brain. VISIONARY: The Sun cast down its spear and now I walk in Shadow. You seek a Shade, too, where Spite holds still its burning tongue. CERMAK: What is our fate? VISIONARY: Your fate – to tame the Winds of Change or be flung from the precipice. Teetering on the edge, you must forge support lest you fail! NARRATOR: The eccentric man – the Visionary, they speculated – suddenly stopped talking. Curious about the knuckle bones, Cilla approached the small pile. She shook them and let them fall. The Visionary peered over to study them. VISIONARY: Fate smiles on your fortune this turn, as you can see – though ill-fortune, no doubt, awaits you too! NARRATOR: The party left the Visionary’s home and continued exploring the village. Inside another dwelling a dark-skinned man with long gold earrings was tidying up his living space. TEAQUETZL CITIZEN MALE 1: I’m busy right now. Go see the council if you want something. They’re in the meeting hall on the north side of the village. NARRATOR: In the neighboring building, a woman in green robes was cleaning furniture. TEAQUETZL CITIZEN FEMALE 1: I got no time to talk. Haven’t you heard the prophecy? We need to prepare. The council will tell you about it. They’re in the meeting hall on the north side of the village. NARRATOR: Another person was in this room, a bald man with a pink cloth wrapped stylishly around his head. He had a large golden ring hanging from his left ear. TEAQUETZL CITIZEN MALE 2: I don’t like talking to strangers. That’s what the council’s for. They’re in the meeting hall on the north side of the village. NARRATOR: The man was standing beside a large cage. Inside, a small animal, something like a rat darted back and forth. K’Ratchek approached the cage and flipped the lock, allowing the cage door to swing open. But the man in the purple cloth was fast to react. TEAQUETZL CITIZEN MALE 2: Tash! Stay, you little weasel! NARRATOR: He shut the cage door and addressed the party. TEAQUETZL CITIZEN MALE 2: Excuse me, but please don’t let my pet weasel loose. K’RATCHEK: Weasel? It looks like a rat to me. TEAQUETZL CITIZEN MALE 2: He’s just undersized is all. He’ll be a fine weasel once he grows up. NARRATOR: They left the weasel and continued exploring the town. In another building a woman was creating, or perhaps just repairing some clay pottery. Gerakis approached her, but she seemed to already be annoyed by his presence. TEAQUETZL CITIZEN FEMALE 1: If you’re trying to sell something, I’m not interested. If you’re lucky, the council may let you walk out of here alive. They’re in the meeting hall on the north side of the village. NARRATOR: In another part of the village they found an armor merchant in a building filled with many items of metalwork and breastplates and helms resting atop wooden display poles. He had a blond widow’s peak, and his skin was dark and tanned. TEAQUETZL ARMOR MERCHANT: Good day. Can I help you? GERAKIS: Tell us about your business. TEAQUETZL ARMOR MERCHANT: I’ve never been so busy. Everybody needs armor for the war and there isn’t enough time for it all. You are welcome to use the forge if you’ve a need for it. I’m too busy to custom-make anything. GERAKIS: Yes, show us your goods. TEAQUETZL ARMOR MERCHANT: I’m sorry, but the leader of our village has forbidden me to sell any armor. The winds of war are shifting toward us and we need to prepare. NARRATOR: Gerakis asked the armor merchant about the coming war. TEAQUETZL ARMOR MERCHANT: War will engulf all the villages. That’s what the visionary says. You would do well to talk to our leader. Even a warrior as skilled as you would not want to be caught alone when war strikes. NARRATOR: The party decided the time had come to visit the council. They left the armor merchant and walked along the padded sand that marked a trodden path until they reached the very large, and impressive hall. A group of four men were standing near a long wooden table. The party approached. CHAHL: (To the man next to him) You see, the visionary was right! Here are the ones who will fulfill the prophecy. Teaquetzl will survive! CHAHL: Greetings, heroes! I am Chahl, leader of Teaquetzl. We’ve been waiting for you. NARRATOR: Chahl was a squat, bald mul. His cheeks were sunken, like a person malnourished and hungry, and his eyes sat in the soft shadows beneath his pronounced brow. CILLA: You’ve mistaken us for someone else. CHAHL: No, no! It’s obvious that you’re the heroes. CERMAK: What are you talking about? CHAHL: The visionary’s prophecy! Teaquetzl is doomed, but you…. LT. KWERIN: (Interrupting) What our noble leader means to say is that a prophecy of doom is on Teaquetzl. You fit the prophecy’s description. CHAHL: You are the heroes who will save Teaquetzl, just like the visionary said. NARRATOR: The man who had interjected shared Chahl’s weathered and hungry face, but also wore an eyepatch over his left eye. He was bald but for the long hair that grew around his head. CERMAK: We have no wish to be your hero. CHAHL: I can’t force you to accept your fate, but the prophecy will not be denied. GERAKIS: Tell us about this prophecy. CHAHL: The visionary can better tell you his prophecies. What’s important is that an army will soon destroy Teaquetzl and all the desert villages. He says the ruin will stretch from the Silt Sea to beyond the badlands. CERMAK: Where does the army come from? CHAHL: The visionary didn’t say exactly. I suppose the army will come from Draj… LT. KWERIN: (interrupting) Draj is the only place able to field an army as the visionary describes, but I’ve heard nothing to indicate war. CILLA: (Annoyed) Who are you? LT. KWERIN: I am Kweriun, chief lieutenant here in Teaquetzl. CILLA: Why do you keep interrupting Chahl? LT. KWERIN: Not everyone in the village shares Chahl’s beliefs, even though he is our leader. I merely voice the concerns of those who disagree. CHAHL: Caravans of weapons have already gone to Draj. War preparations are going on right now! GERAKIS: How long until this happens? CHAHL: The visionary is unsure, but it can’t be far off. K’RATCHEK: Why do you believe the prophecy. CHAHL: His predictions are always true, and now you are here. There can be no doubt. LT. KWERIN: Not all of us believe. I say Teaquetzl would do better to take care of its own concerns instead of worrying about the world. NARRATOR: Chahl addressed Lt. Kwerin. CHAHL: If the world falls about our ears, do you think we can survive? NARRATOR: He turned his attenton back to the party. CHAHL: You must help! You are our only chance! The visionary says… LT. KWERIN: Don’t help us. Athas is a cruel world – everyone for himself. Teaquetzl survived before you arrived and will do so after you leave. CHAHL: Don’t listen to him. Kwerin is just jealous. LT. KWERIN: Others of us, though, believe it is better to be independent and able to move quickly. CHAHL: Move quickly, yes! But move to make this alliance and prepare for war! CHAHL: We can’t fight Draj alone. Our only hope is to join with other ex-gladiator villages. You must convince these villages to join us. K’RATCHEK: What do we get out of this? CHAHL: Teaquetzl isn’t a wealthy village, but we will give you what we can. NARRATOR: To Gerakis and the other ex-gladiators, it seemed that freedom lay farther away than they had anticipated, for as long as Draj and its sorcerer-king Tectuktitlay reigned over this country, freedom was but a fleeting condition, and its time always running out. They fled the arena in hopes of finding a refuge, but there wasn’t one. Not a permanent one. Not yet. GERAKIS: We will help you. CHAHL: Excellent! This is the best news we’ve had in a long time! CHAHL: Make sure you visit the visionary. He will give you an aid to your mission. You will also find gifts in your house – the second one to the southeast. GERAKIS: What should we do? CHAHL: You must visit other villages and convince their leaders to ally with us. GERAKIS: What help can you offer? CHAHL: We will try to gather information about Draj’s movements while you are gathering allies, and, of course, we will house and feed those you do make. If you want to speak to me or my lieutenant privately, we’ll be in the homes on either side of this meeting hall. The council will see to your needs and reward you when each alliance is sealed. CHAHL: Good luck! NARRATOR: They left the meeting hall and set out to explore their new house and other services provided by this active community of ex-gladiators. They stopped by the well again to refresh. The man, Dominy, was still hard at work, but more conversational than before. DOMINY: Glad to meet you. I hear you’re going to help us against Draj. We’re all quite grateful. GERAKIS: What are you doing? DOMINY: I’m making a brace for the wellhead before it breaks and some fool falls in and dirties my water. GERAKIS: Tell us about the well. DOMINY: My well may be humble to look at, but there’s none finer. It’s watered Teaquetzl since the first stone was laid and will keep on flowing when we’re all dust. GERAKIS: How do you know the well won’t dry up? DOMINY: One plot of desert may look just like another to most, but the shape of the dunes and the texture of the sand tells me what’s underneath. CILLA: There’s not just more sand underneath? DOMINY: No, ‘course not. There’s a layer of clay under the sand here – what keeps the water flowing. Just to the west, it looks like a heap of jumbled stone barely covered by the sand. I don’t know what that could be. NARRATOR: Gerakis asked Dominy how well he knew the villagers in Teaquetzl. DOMINY: Can’t no one get water without talking to me. Besides, I’ve been here from the beginning – seen many of ‘em grow up. GERAKIS: What do you know about the visionary? DOMINY: He’s crazy! Leastways I can’t understand a word of that gibberish he spouts. He does have a way about him, though. Just the other day he kept the well from getting clogged with sand. CILLA: How did the visionary save the well? DOMINY: He covered the well with planks of wood and wouldn’t let me move them. Got me mad at the time, but the next day the wind piled sand right up over the well wall. NARRATOR: Indeed, the shallow embankment surrounding the well would not save it from the ravishes of the desert sandstorms. The source of this village’s longevity was a fragile vessel. NARRATOR: Gerakis next asked about Chahl. GERAKIS: Is Chahl a good leader? DOMINY: There are worse leaders to be had. At least Chahl keeps us safe from marauders. he’s a good fighter, and maybe that’s all we need. K’RATCHEK: You sound dissatisfied with Chahl. DOMINY: No. Chahl’s just not the most inspiring of leaders. Teaquetzl could do with some change – keep us from stagnating. CILLA: Tell us about the lieutenant. DOMINY: I don’t know much about Kwerin. He mostly keeps to himself and that’s fine with me. CERMAK: You were here when Teaquetzl was founded? DOMINY: I was the one who chose where to build the village. More villages than not get swallowed by the desert because their well gives out, and Chahl wasn’t going to let that happen to Teaquetzl. NARRATOR: The party looked at the sparkling blue water. They each took a moment to slake their thirst with a cool draft from the well. Before they left, Cermak asked about Dominy if he had any other information pertaining to the war. DOMINY: A train of wagons passed through the other day, heading southeast. I couldn’t tell from the wall if it was a caravan or a war party, but I did see some warriors scouting its flanks. CERMAK: Are you worried about fighting Draj? DOMINY: I say it’s time we fought back! We’ve lived in fear of Draj for so long we’ve forgotten how to resist. The templars count on that to keep their power. NARRATOR: They said goodbye to the well master and continued their exploration of Teaquetzl. They came upon a series of tables adorned with wares. A merchant stood nearby, maintaining the shop. Colorful striped sheets hung over the items on display. On one table was a series of deadly implements; an obsidian blade, a metal longsword, an iron mace. Cermak spoke to the merchant. TEAQUETZL WEAPON MERCHANT: Ah, are you the warriors that Chahl said were coming? CERMAK: Yes. TEAQUETZL WEAPON MERCHANT: That is good news. No doubt you wish to equip yourself for your brave mission. I stock a variety of weapons. I’m sure you will find something to your liking. NARRATOR: Unfortunately, while the merchant was willing to buy some of the extra items the party had picked up, he offered little that was an improvement over what they had already equipped. They did a small amount of trading, and concluded their business with the merchant. TEAQUETZL WEAPON MERCHANT: Remember me if you ever need weaponry. NARRATOR: In a large building they found what looked like an alchemical laboratory. In the northern part of the building a troth of water sloshed back and forth beneath a red standard emblazoned with some heraldric creature. Lining the far wall was an expansive system of beakers and tubes filled with gasses and bubbling liquids, colored flames and strange odors. A bearded man beneath a green cowl greeted them. FATHER GARYN: I am Father Garyn, cleric of this village. How can I help you? NARRATOR: The party introduced themselves to the cleric. FATHER GARYN: It is an honor to meet you. The visionary has spoken a great deal about you? NARRATOR: K’Ratchek was eyeing the large assortment of connected miscellany. K’RATCHEK: What is that contraption by the wall? FATHER GARYN: It produces an extract of great restorative value. However, I do not have the ranike tree pith that I used to make the extract. Will you go to my supplier and retrieve the order I placed with him? NARRATOR: Cilla felt that they had more important things to do, but before she could speak up, Gerakis acquiesced to fulfilling the cleric’s request. GERAKIS: Yes, we would be glad to help you. FATHER GARYN: You are most kind! Notaku, my supplier, is usually found southeast of Teaquestzl where the sands turn red. He will give you the ranike tree pith that I need. GERAKIS: We would ask your advice, Father. FATHER GARYN: Of course. I am at your service. What do you want to talk about? GERAKIS: What do you know about the visionary? FATHER GARYN: He has become a good friend of mine, and I can tell you he is a seer of great power. Do not let his odd manner disturb you. Many truths are entwined in his ravings. CERAKIS: Tell us about Teaquetzl’s leader. FATHER GARYN: Chahl, like most muls, is a simple soul. Raised from birth to be a templar’s bodyguard, everything he does is motivated by a desire to protect. GERAKIS: Tell us about yourself. FATHER GARYN: There is little to tell. I am simply a humble cleric trying to keep this village healthy. CERMAK: What elemental sphere do you worship? FATHER GARYN: The elemental Sphere of Water is the focus of my devotion. Its life-giving properties are a great boon, enabling me to serve Teaquetzl to the fullest. NARRATOR: The party discussed the prevalence of water in a town surrounded by desert sand. FATHER GARYN: Dominy, the well master, is the one to thank for that. He has a great affinity for water and would make a powerful cleric if he weren’t so enamored by his mechanical devices. GERAKIS: Are you so busy? The village seems small. FATHER GARYN: My work is never done. A sandstorm swept through recently, leaving dozens of people sandblasted. Others were attacked by dune reapers – the list is endless. CILLA: How long have you lived in Teaquetzl? FATHER GARYN: Since Chahl founded it many years ago, it was I, in fact, who healed the wounds he suffered while escaping slavery, though he bears the scars still. NARRATOR: In the southeast corner of Father Garyn’s home, or laboratory, as it were, K’Ratchek found a jar containing pink liquid, and pocketed it. She saw in another room a very comfortable bed next to a lit fireplace, but there was nothing of note here. When she returned to the party, they were wrapping up, and about to leave. FATHER GARYN: Health and long life to you, friends. Goodbye. NARRATOR: Lastly, before leaving Teaquetzl, they visited the armor merchant once more. TEAQUETZL ARMOR MERCHANT: Good day. Can I help you? NARRATOR: The party was by then officially recognized by Chahl and the village of Teaquetzl as something of a band of saviors, if one were to believe the ravings of the Visionary. For them, the armor merchant was no longer forbidden to sell his wares. GERAKIS: Yes, show us your goods. TEAQUETZL ARMOR MERCHANT: It would be my pleasure. NARRATOR: The armor merchant’s selection was not any more lavish than would be expected of a village built by escaped slaves, but the selection was adequate and the merchant did have a limited supply of chainmail leggings which was purchased for three hundred ceramic pieces. What else the party had on them that they did not need was sold to the merchant. TEAQUETZL ARMOR MERCHANT: Remember me if you ever need armor. NARRATOR: They returned to their own home and rested. When they awoke, they gathered their things and set out to find Father Garyn’s ranike tree pith supplier, Notaku. They left Teaquetzl and headed southward, returning once more to the area the sand shark had swallowed up the serf that had escaped with them. They looked outward at a path seeming to lead Northwest, but there was nothing in that direction but endless sand and shifting dunes. To venture it would mean certain death, so they went southwest, and entered the crimson landscape of the red sands area. NARRATOR: The wispy grains from the previous area are replaced with a hard, burgundy earth. Some of the same desert thriving flora continue to live in this place, but also there are new, strange plants that must have adapted specifically to this unique terrain. Steep hillsides keep the party contained within large natural corridors. The party sets out to find the pith merchant, but they immediately cross paths with an excited old man. ALGERNON: You must be the ones who escaped from the arena! I’ve heard of you, my name is Algernon. I’ve always wanted to meet a member of the Veiled Alliance. GERAKIS: We’re not from the Veiled Alliance. ALGERNON: I understand… you just escaped from Draj by yourself, heh heh. No need to explain – I understand completely. CERMAK: What are you doing here? ALGERNON: I’ve waited years to be contacted by the Alliance, but nobody ever came. When I heard about escaped gladiators I picked up my things and ventured out to find you. I am a scribe. My knowledge of magical devices is great – ask about any item and I will elucidate. Are you interested? NARRATOR: The party had acquired a few items of magical nature by now. Gerakis asked him if he knew much about swords. ALGERNON: You’ll have to be more specific about what you’re looking for. NARRATOR: Gerakis clarified: magic swords. ALGERNON: The few magic swords which still exist on Athas have great power! Show me the item, so that I may identify it. NARRATOR: Cermak showed the scribe his bone longsword, called Swiftbite. ALGERNON: The creator of this sword wanted to overcome stronger opponents easily. Unfortunately, it was so powerful, he was hunted by thieves for years until finally the extra damage and hitting ability could not save him. NARRATOR: Cilla offered her obsidian sword, called Bloodwrath, that she had taken off the templar Pehtucl’s body in the slavepens. ALGERNON: This looks like a ritual sactrifice item of the templars of Tectuktitlay. Its blade is magically sharpened to better pierce the hearts of the dragon king’s victims. NARRATOR: They asked Algernon what he knew of fruit. ALGERNON: Magic fruit! Excellent! Show me the item, so that I may identify it. NARRATOR: They opened their packs and brought out the various fruit they had collected so far. Algernon was shown a lemon, first. ALGERNON: The sour taste of a lemon clears the mind and restores psionic powers. NARRATOR: Next they showed him some purple grapes. ALGERNON: Purple grapes cure blindness and deafness. NARRATOR: And green grapes. ALGERNON: use green grapes when you need a blessing. NARRATOR: And white grapes. ALGERNON: White grapes will help you pray for any help you need. NARRATOR: And orange grapes. ALGERNON: Like all grapes, the orange grapes are very beneficial to you. These will clear your body of all poisons. NARRATOR: They showed him an orange pear. ALGERNON: Use the orange pear when you need a little healing. But, be careful, it will not give you much. NARRATOR: Finally they showed him the last of their carried fruit – a guava. ALGERNON: Why are you carrying around a guava? They’re poisonous. NARRATOR: Cilla showed Algernon her Chameleon Gloves. ALGERNON: Be careful when you wear the chameleon gloves. They blind whomever you touch. NARRATOR: Finally Cermak showed them their last unidentified device – a magical rod. ALGERNON: This was a toy that Llod made while experimenting. He worked for a king that lived long ago. It will allow you to travel between the obelisks that Llod left behind. However, some of these obelisks have lost their gems and these must be replaced before the rod can be used. ALGERNON: I hope that helps. Well, what now? GERAKIS: You can leave if you wish. ALGERNON: I myself only possess one magic item. I would like to donate it to the Veiled Alliance to help them save Athas. I hope it helps. It’s a wand that can detect metals up to 60 paces away. It’s very easy to use. NARRATOR: He handed the wand to Cermak. ALGERNON: Well, I also found this gem on the obelisk to the north. You are welcome to it, as I have no need for such things. NARRATOR: He handed the gem to Gerakis. They bid the man farewell and considered whether to continue their search for the pith supplier, or to replace the gem in the obelisk. The latter idea would benefit them more broadly by creating a means of instantly moving across great distances. They headed northward, then, to replace the gem in the obelisk. NARRATOR: Suddenly, almost hidden amongst a copse of tall green cacti, two otyughs slinked out toward the party and attacked. NARRATOR: Just before the tentacled beast reached the party, Cilla unleashed a flaming sphere upon them. K’Ratchek slipped between the cacti to come back around on one of the creatures and tore into it with her claws. The otyugh retaliated, slapping K’Ratchek with a long spiny tentacle twice. Gerakis charged forward and met one of the creatures head-on. He struck it with his obsidian longsword in his right hand and then again with his bone longsword in his left. He performed the double-strike a second time, bringing the creature to a state of mortal reckoning. Cermak stepped in and thrust his blade through the creature’s trunk-like body, slaying it. NARRATOR: K’Ratchek struck the otyugh in another flurry of blows, and from a distance Cilla put it to death with two wooden arrows. NARRATOR: From here, the party needed only climb a small slope to reach the otherworldly magical device, the strange stone obelisk. It stood next to a rock that appeared to have a large skull of some kind embedded within. Gerakis placed the gem inside the stone, and it began to glow. NARRATOR: Not far north from the obelisk was a path that led to a small pocket of vegetation. They walked on to investigate. NARRATOR: Here they found, like an island in an ocean of sand, a swamp surrounded by tall plants of yellow and green and orange. Hovering above the plants were little butterflies, and clouds of tiny insects were buzzing over the murky green water. They passed through this quiet place, trying not to disturb the peaceful scene. Beyond the swamp was seemingly endless sand dunes, although in the distance one can just make out the telltale flicker of green fabric. There were people that way. Though they should have left this area to go back to the red sands to procure the pith, curiosity compelled them to investigate. NARRATOR: They crossed the wide swath of desert sand, and discovered, resting in the shade of a nearby rocky hillside, a very familiar person wearing extravagant garb. He looked upon the approaching party smugly, and turned to a nearby guard. ANNOUNCER: Who are those petty slave scum who approach? Guards – kill them for daring to look upon me. ANNOUNCER: Wait, I think I know them from somewhere… ANNOUNCER: No! It can’t be… How did you survive? NARRATOR: The party recognized him immediately. He was the announcer from the gladiatorial arena, who was also responsible for buying and selling the very slaves he used in combat to entertain the citizens of Draj. He was the man who told Cermak he had good teeth. Cermak stepped forward. CERMAK: We hacked through waves of guards. ANNOUNCER: Oh… well, it’s good to see that the arena prepared you for the realities of Athas. We should be moving along. It’s, err, good to see that you’re doing well. CERMAK: Not a chance. We still have matters to discuss. ANNOUNCER: Listen, if you let me live, I’ll tell you about an amazing opportunity. Interested? NARRATOR: Cermak wasn’t, but K’Ratchek was. K’RATCHEK: Yes! ANNOUNCER: There is a chest buried in the desert. Its location is known only to me and now you as well. Find the dragon’s eye and dig there. GERAKIS: Where is this ‘eye’? ANNOUNCER: It’s in the salt flats, that’s all I know. CERMAK: That’s good, now give me all your money. ANNOUNCER: Not a chance! Guards – kill them! NARRATOR: Unfortunately for this man, the guards were several steps behind him, and could not intercept before Cermak lunged forward and stabbed the announcer again, and again, and again. His attack was brutal, and mortal, and the announcer collapsed onto the sand, finally silenced. NARRATOR: There were six guards. They were quickly upon Cermak, and though they were able to land some blows against him, the others were able to intervene. Cilla torched many of them with a flaming sphere, while Gerakis and K’Ratchek handled them in melee combat. NARRATOR: When it was over, Cermak looted the announcer’s corpse. He had on him some gems, a scroll, and two nice rings. NARRATOR: The party did not loot the guards; they had little more than scraps of armor and arrows, things of which the party already had enough of. They left the bodies to be eaten by the creatures of the desert. NARRATOR: They had gone a little out of their way; the pith supplier was somewhere to the South. They decided that, before exploring further, they ought to complete the task they were sent here to do. They meandered back the way they came, toward the swamp with the butterflies, and then onward to red sands.
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Jan 4, 2019 13:15
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