The World of Layonara
Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: Fatherchaos on February 14, 2006, 07:00:53 AM
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Dur'Thak stood outside the town of Hlint musing to himself, "How long as it been since I've last seen a city. Let alone one that did not turn me away on sight." It had been a long time indeed. Nearly twenty years ago he had aided a neighboring fife in a small war in exchange for some ancient texts detailing Infernals, Tannar'ri and their ilk. The texts were unremarkable to many but carried one unique property; they catalogued the language of the infernals quite aptly. Dur'Thak was determined to learn the language and gain a greater perspective on himself. However, it was proving to be quite hard and many of the meanings continued to elude him. He had mastered the structure and could piece together various concepts to a limited deree using verbs, nouns, and so on, but the core primer to the language was still missing. Dur'Thak stood motionless, thinking of pulling the books out for for more intensive study. Then his thoughts were cut short.
Suddenly he heard a traveler screaming, begging for his life from some unknown assailant. Instinctively, Dur'Thak slipt into the shadows to address the situation.
Creeping quietly towards the sound of the comotion Dur'Thak could see a lone merchant beset by two Goblins.
Dur'Thak called upon the dark bloodline that has cursed him for so many years, blocking out all light and casting the goblins and their prey into confusion from the ensuing darkness.
This was Dur'Thak's specialty . . . He charged in, sword raised, striking the Goblin swiftly, unaware. With the creatures gurgling cry, Dur'Thak settled to the ground, listening intently for the second Goblin.
. . . Snap . . . Dur'Thak heard the Goblin trying to creep away. But it was too late for the Goblin. Before he placed another hand to the ground his head had already rolled away from his shoulders. Dur'Thak wiped his blade clean on the creatures back and pulled his dark robes closer about him.
Dur'Thak released the darkness he had called to find a panic stricken merchant. Terrified, the merchant blurted out "T-Thank y-you!" and fled to the town of Hlint.
The first Goblin rasped heavily, his life pouring out steadily from the fatal wound. Dur'Thak settled beside him, readying his skinning knife. He said nothing as he maimed and dismembered the body, making the last few moments as agonizing as possible for the Goblin.
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Dur'Thak looks to his journals, forlorn and dejected. The last twenty years of reflections on his life were nothing more than his quest to learn the Infernal language.
Dur'Thak set his broken quill to the book, writing simply, "Why?"
Such a simple question that for most of his life now had gone unanswered. Dur'Thak shook his head, curling his tail about himself as a mother might hug a child. But here in the depts of the crypts he had no one but himself to speak with.
"And so it began with a simple request by an aging Egar. . . Earg . . Needless to say the crypt master. He sought an undead essence for some unknown purpose. As always, I ventured into the crypts alone. To seek out death and spit in its eye. But the endless masses of skeletons were proving too much. Twice I fled that cursed dungeon, with nothing more than my wits. Healed, once again, I snuck back to the depths. My tactics in the darkness were proving less than effective with creatures that lost their sight lifetimes ago. I had just snuck past two skeletons, or so I had tought, when one of the cursed dead rattled in his coffin and clamboured out to get me. The commotion brought the attention of his fellows who I had not yet taken down."
Dur'Thak's tail lashes about him violently, recalling the memories of the encounter.
"I charged at them, tired of fleeing. The first went down quickly. But as his companions charged, I was overwhelmed. The battle was not glorious by any means, a lucky shot disarmed me, and another nearly severed my head. I fell to the ground, looking on towards the skeletions, still hissing in defiance. Then they simply turned away from me, and all light faded."
"When I next opened my eyes, a lone human stood over me. I am most glad that the darkness concealed my nature, or he may have stuck me once more for good measure. But that was not the case. Freldo, Protho, and a dwarf whom I can not recall, soon befriended me. It was strange. Did they not know I was a Tiefling? That demon blood coursed in me? Either they did not care, or the darkness kept me concealed enough to hide an features that might turn them away."
"I still sought the essence of the dead below, and with their offer of help, I was in no hurry to dismiss them. They would be of use after all."
"The ensuing battles below were quite noteworthy. Armies of zombies, each with a ghoulish leader. Once we were overrun on both sides. And yet we prevailed." He grins wickedly. "And now here I am, the victor with the spoils. I returned the requested essence to the caretaker. Perhaps I will have some use for the myraid of skeleton knuckles I created. I should seek out a site to toss them . . ."
Liften his broken quill, Dur'Thak flips to an earlier page in hs journal, taking out a larger red bound book bearing various signs of Demons and their kin.
"Now, infernal: Friend 'KILTAHART' Foe 'KILTAHART' . . . the word is the same." Dur'Thak bends his nose further into the books, continuing his studies that were started over 20 years ago.
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Dur'Thak sits down to his journals once more, still trying to find some clues to his life's purpose.
"Hlint has proven to be a most difficult town. At first I expected rejection, hatred. I relished the idea of a possible conflict . . . but some have welcomed me openly. Today I was greeted by and addled bard in the local tavern. Her name is forgotten to me, but she requested that I seek out a necklace of sorts. Lost in the forest east of the town."
Dur'Thak grimmaced, recalling the events.
"I set about alone again, only to find a group of wayfarers who sought my assistance. A Dwarf named Geddrin, and Freldo once more. We set ourselves deep into a lizard infested swamp. And we slaughtered them all. They swarmed at us, mad with rage, and each was cut down in turn. Soon, the swamp was filled with the bodies of the fallen. I relished in their gurguling cries."
Dur'Thak's tail begins to lash about wildly, excited by recalling the events.
"It was not long before the necklace was found. It reminded me of . . . home. The necklace resembled a trinket once given to me by . . . my mother."
Dur'Thak sits perfectly still, straining to recall.
"Even though the necklace felt so familiar, I can not recall what the trinket looked like. For that matter, I can not recall the faces of my family. In my mind I know them, but they are twisted and horrid. Like some sort of razorvine . . ."
Dur'Thak relaxes against the stone next to him, taking comfort in the unforgiving cold.
"It does not matter yet. Their faces are lost to me, soon their names will be as well. In time I might forget and be forgotten. . . I finally returned the necklace after some time to the bard. She began to thank me somehow, but I had already left. He thanks were meaningless. Soon I stood outside of the Wild Surge Inn, a strange desire to kill burning in my heart."
"I walked towards the pond, thinking to find a fish and feels its raw nourishment, but I was called aside by the local Tax collector. She spoke of a rat in the sewers who had stolen some sort of book. I cared not for what she had said, I was already halfway to the entrance to the sewers before she finished her request."
"I slipt in quietly, adjusting to the silent calm. The darkness and gloom was relaxing. I felt at peace . . . hunting living creatures in the darkness. Slowly I worked my way from each hall way, tracking a set of prints that were fresh and unusuall. My opposition proved simple. Rats and spiders. More rats. More spiders. I was growing frustrated and recklace till I came finally to a door."
"Now this was unusuall I thought to myself, a door, closed inside the sewers. I crept closer, straining to hear any sound. But it was quiet. Then, I became aware of a strangely colored tile before the door. I examined it closely, but I am not a piker. The trap was cleverly hidden, a set of spikes covered with weak clay tiles. I nearly laughed aloud, then jumped over, landing silently before the door. Carefully placing my shortsord in the lock, the door soon swung freely. Then I smelled it."
"It was some sort of stench, like wet fur and blood, that stood out against the sewers. And I could see them, their glowing red eyes in the darkness. A small army of rats surrounding one standing as a man."
"I let loose an arrow, felling a rat. The others charged, falling right into my trap. As they neared I summoned the innate darkness that swells within me. I hissed with a strange delight as I plunged into the darkness running straight past the confused mass."
"The rat-man never saw it coming. From the Darkness I burst, charging straight at him. He stood perplexed as I sank both of my blades into his body. I let him fall to the ground unceremouniously. Their was a sadness in his eyes, perhaps he too had seen the darker parts of the world that I have. But it didn't matter, I saw the book the tax collecter requested. He still clutched it tightly. As I lifted it he spoke poorly, 'please . . my . . .friends . . . can not pay.' I ignored his trick and simply left him there. As I left his 'chambers' the rats ignored me, moving steadily to the smell of fresh blood."
"Upon returning the book I was granted a decent sum of coins. Good. I needed them to purchase more parchment so I could continue my translations of the infernal tounge."
"With the new pages in hand, I now sit again in my secluded home near the goblin caves. Perhaps this will be the nigth that I unlock the secrects to the infernal language. It infuriates me that after twenty years, I have yet to understand the core primer that creates the meanings to the words. Words and structure are often just not enough. I've enough vocabulary to fell an addled wizard . . . I wonder how fares Darthoriadin"
Dur'Thak shrugged, and continues his studies.
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NOTE TO SELF: I have failed to pen many of my recent encounters, I must pay better attention to this.
Dur'Thak sits down with his broken quill once again, nearly blunted from constant use and excessive pressue applied during writing.
"I ventured from Hlint today, intent to leave the constant chatter of the crowds behind me. A dark road led through the mountains, and it felt the most inviting. I came upon Fort Llast. At first I skirted the perimiter of the outpost for some time trying to determine the nature of those who dwell within. Did I really leave the constant clamour of Hlint only to find its local twin?"
Dur'Thak pauses.
"No, this outpost seemed darker and more grim. Perhaps the rocky mountains and bandits that I passed through are a constant threat? No matter, I will enter the fort at dusk and fool those that I may."
. . . . .
"At dusk I entered, taking care to keep my inquisitive tail carefully concealed in the failing sun. I was immediately beset by two individuals, whom had obviously seen my kind before. A mage named Daltron and another, but I forget their names now. They individually requested that I collect the body of a wisp and an oil in the grey mountains. I obliged of course, they offered a reward and I have no desire to dissuade hard coin. Luckily I was permitted to wander about the town, and so I did. I did not walk far however till I encountered yet another local. A grim faced guardsman who had held his sword for enough seasons that I was careful of my actions in his presence."
"I spoke at length with him of the various locals and Brigands. I have a need for fresh meat and spoils after all. During the conversation however he mentioned his need to increase the weapons cache. A small task it seemed. There were well armed bandits a days hike in the mountains."
"I set out shortly after to the bandit camps I had discovered yesterday. They were well armed and unusually organized. A headlong assault would be fruitless. Instead I waited till the guard began to tire. I called forth the darkness to settle over their weapons cache, taking care not to affect the camp fires. Quietly beyond sight I began to skirt away their weapons cache of bows, swords and ammunition. I placed them a distance away in a small cairn that I constructed. When I aquired the last bow however I was not as carefull as before. I kicked over a blasted pot of sorts causing a rather unwelcomed commotion. Soon everyone in the camp was roused, and quite dubious that the source of the sound was settled into the midst of a thick blackness. I released the darkness, exposing myself with a readied crossbow. The bolt struck true to its mark, nearly felling the stunned cleric. I loaded another bolt and fired at the closest merc then took off at full sprint. It was not hard to outpace the heavily armored Dwarves. A human nearly kept pace with me, and when enough distance was between us and the rest of his troupe, I dodged around a rock and took him by suprise. He was skilled, but soon dead."
"It wasn't long before the Dwarf caught up. I fired two bolts into him as he approached. Finally he fell, leaving only the cleric. The man ignored his companions and worked his magic to seal his stomach. It didn't help him much when I sunk two blades into his back."
"The rest of my work was easy. Gathering the weapon cache I had made and delivering it to the guard in Llast took only two trips. With my task done, a new helmet and a few coins richer, I returned to Hlint and made camp outside the town."
"It was not long until a strange pestering man arrived and constantly blabbered on like a clueless primer about my Tail. Such absurd questions asking if I could move it, and so forth. If all of Mechanus slid to Xaos, he would certainly be the cause. He seemed to be more aware of the nature of fiends than I am. Immediately he demanded that I teach him the language. I attempted to trick him, saying some absurd comment in Elvish, which he unfortunately spoke. In the end, he seemed quite irritated that an abyssal born could not speak the fiendish tongues. And I quote 'Sheesh, you don't even know infernal.' What a pestering blight of a human. I hope he dies in some horrible manner, hopefully caused by me."
The word Caldiir is written in large red lettering, with depper slashes than most.
Additional notes translating various Infernal words, and a few abyssal ones, are penned.
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*** A series of pages appears to be ripped out, rather violently. No trace is left of what the pages contained. ***
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Dur'Thak sits down quietly in his accustomed spot in the dark forests surrounding Hlint. Many thoughts weigh heavily on him.
"Today I was conscripted by a local guardsman. He sought the ears of the local Goblin tribe, proof that their numbers have been diminished. I accepted without trepedation, a chance to kill Goblins and profit for my own benefit felt like a chance to breath. But something else lurked in my mind that I did not realize till the deed was done."
"I fell on them quietly, picking off their outside guards. A quick bolt here, a well placed garrot there. Soon, I was at the heart of their camp. I used my customary tactic, killing some of their own at the edge of their camp. As the others charged to avenge their fallen comrades they became lost in the darkness I had summoned. It was easy to creep behind the camp and catch their shaman off guard. His head was taken quickly, then I plunged into the darkness and felled the remainder of the disorganized rabble. As I slew them, I took a perverse pleasure in their deaths. Something brooded within me that kept me hacking at the fallen long after they had passed."
Dur'Thak breathes deeply. . .
"When the emotions passed, I found my skin was hot beyond reason. It nearly burned my armor and hissed against the calm wet night. Apparently the blood within me is stronger than I imagined. When I roamed the Hive of Sigil, I never felt such disdain for life. The upper wards, the outer ring, everywhere I traveled for over forty years I had never once felt like I do now."
Dur'Thak stares into the distance.
"I recall certain events on my time in the planes. The words of the fiend who spoke with me in the Iron Spit inn of the lower wards. 'You are both cursed and blessed clueless one. Deny yourself and it will take you. Focus and control it and you will maintain your . . . elven natures.' He continued on a diatribe of Gods and the Bloodwar, and how I would someday march on one side, but he was nevertheless a memorable fiend. He hated me, I could feel it, or at least he hated the blood he smelled within me. But we traveled as friends for a while. Something was different in his nature. He said that he had endured the Bloodwar for so long that he had finally found himself. But he was outcast due to his . . . well not pacifist views but he certainly had a different bend on things. But I digress, for Nath'Ni'Dreth is well beyond my reach since the Dragon summoned me."
"I have denied who I am since I have been summoned here. At every moment I fight what is in me. Perhaps Nath was right and I should instead focus myself. Perhaps."
"Eventually I returned to Hlint, with the requested ears. The guard was thankfull and paid well for my efforts. Too bad I can not find other ventures that pay well for the mutilation of others . . ."
"With the new coin I had I decided to try my hand at crafting gems and other objects for magical purposes. My progress went well enought till I overheard a conversation from another elf and the fur trader who had a near constant presence in the crafting halls. The fur trader requested a rat pelt, and I just happened to have many. I called to the elf, thinking him a woman to give him the pelt."
Dur'Thak laughs . . .
"It turns out that the Elf was instead a male. I have been gone from my kin for some time to make such a mistake. He stormed out after a typically elven response. It was hard to hide my laughter at my mistake, perhaps I will see this wo-man again soon."
Dur'Thak closes his journal and pulls out his books regarding the Infernals and Fiendish languages and continues his studies.
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Dur'Thak sits down, oddly content.
"Earlier I was conscripted by the fur trader to collect various pelts. One such pelt was that of a jaguar. He described a spotted cat, and after speaking with many locals I found that such a creature roamed near Valensk. Traveling there was no small feat, as it took a long time to travel in a concealed fashion through lands I did not know."
"I eventually reached Valensk, and found the location of these spotted cats. I felled a pair with some difficulty and returned with their pelts only to discover that I had collected the wrong skin. I felt a strange urge to behed the fur trader, like something sinister awoke within me. It passed, and I set out again to find the same blasted pelt. The second journey to Valensk took nearly half the time, as I had become familiar with many of the pitfalls in reaching the town. I then searched for the different yet simliar great cat. Again there was a pair and I felled both. As I did my stomach rumbled. I had not eaten in nearly two days, how odd that I would forget such a necessary activity. Regardless, I feasted on the remains of the Jaguar. The raw meat was delectable, I will certainly have to hunt more of these as my stomach demands."
"At last I returned the Jaguar pelt, was given some gold for my efforts and instructed to hunt down a Brown bear. So be it."
Dur'Thak puts away his journal and continues his studies of infernals, reciting some Dwarven words as he goes.
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"I recall a particularly interesting request that I completed some time ago. I finally ventured to the Swamps near Hlint to hunt down a Wisp. The bogs were overridden by lizardmen. I spied them for a few days, trying to discern how I might pass through their village. On one perculiar day I returned to Hlint to resupply my bolts and other provisions where I overheard a group of individuals bent on collecting the same essence. Obviously, I could not pass up such an opportunity, and requested if I could venture along as well. The group was quite willing and within minutes we set off back to the Swamps."
"I had never seen such an efficient massacre. We slaughtered the lizard folk one troupe after another, and quickly collected the prized wisp essence. While there I also met with an elderly hag requesting skeleton knuckles. To my luck I still carried the mass I had collected some time ago. Apparently I provided so many the old hag matched my donation with a magical ward against undead. The luck of it all. . ."
"I carried it with a few others and returned it to the keeper in Llast. Each was given a full share of the promised reward. Who am I to argue with hard coin. But something else also peaked my interest as well. I watched the local mage perform a few ingenous feats against a marauding orc. His arcane castings were impressive, and I felt drawn to learn more. In time, perhaps I shall. In the interim I must continue my studies, I can feel that I am close to fully understanding the fell language of the Infernals."
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Dur'Thak sits down disgruntled, hissing and lashing his tail rapidly, obviously agitatedly.
"I have been lax in scribbing my thoughts for for long time now. I have ventured around this cursed place for over two years now. Twenty-six months to be precise. I have years to pen, so I must recall all events clearly, less I recall them inaccurately."
"First I must document my adventures with Gloin. I was inticed by Alymli Gnald, who requested that I aid his kin. I did so willingly, and soon found myself embroiled in a bitter war beneath the surface. It was a pleasure to slay the foul Drow and their kin, and I obtained much wealth before I reached the surface."
"Before the war began, however, a great speech was given by an elder Dwarf. I understood nothing, having long since abandoned my studies with Tarsils. Alymli translated well for me. I requested his further service to aid me in learning the language of the Dwarves. He obliged without reluctance, as we had fought on the field of battle many times. I suspect this is the best way to earn the trust and frienship of any Dwarf, but no matter."
"We fought many beasts . . giant spiders . . and finally a summoned Balor. I felt . . . great hatred and sadness. I hated what I saw . . and sought to strike it down for the taint that fuels me. And at the same time . . . I was saddened that such a great being was bound to the service of a pitiful Drow . . ."
"I will think on these words later. A magnificent suit of armor was found by me on one of the fallen creatures in the dark depths. A good quality Iron it seemed. I have yet to figure how to wear it and bend the weave to my will at the same time . . but in due time I shall. Luckily, I also managed to collect an Iron Handaxe, of good quality. This has been immediately put to use."
"The war concluded well, and we were all greatly rewarded for our efforts, Gloin most of all. But Gloin's victory carries a great marker for me as well. For on that day I began to study the Arcane weave. Somehow, I was drawn insatiably towards the weave, but I suspect it was over eagerness."
"I went to Fort Llast and spoke with the local magi who I had seen perform before. He was quite willing to part knowledge to a neophyte, and in a few weeks I was producing foci well before he had anticipated. The mage mentioned that perhaps the weave carried naturally in my blood, given my abnormal heritage. curiously, he mentioned that perhaps I was more than a common tiefling, but in fact a true half demon, for my father was Balor. I have nothing to refute this, and I do not relish the idea. Perhaps it was the magical work of my Mother who quelled much of the blood within me. I do not know, and I have little chance of knowing in a short period of time. Admitably, I carry more traits than the common tiefling, and at times my mind seems clouded and dark, as if a part within me stirrs."
"What was most perculiar, was when the Magi taught me to pull forth a familiar. Apparently a creature bound by spirit to the mage, reflecting in some way a part of themself and their truename. To my dismay, and apparently no surprise to the mage, I was granted an Imp. I have known these creatures before, and typically they are of fiendish blood. This one however, was a unique specimen, and was born of abyssal heritage. A sign of things to come perhaps?"
"Nix Styx is a wily specimen, but also a fount of knowledge. It was through him that I began to have formal study in the infernal tongue. I had studied others, and my books have proved themselves time and time again, but a speaking mentor teaches intricacies that no book can impart. Nix makes me long for home though. Strangely, I do not feel a desire to return to my place of birth, if in fact I was born there. Only a deep longing to step foot amongst the planes again. Even the chaosblighted cage of Sigil seems comforting."
Dur'Thak calms some, and his writing becomes softer and clearer.
"I have made great strides on all fronts. Alymli has taught me much of the Dwarven tongue, Nix has refined my knowledge and we converse easily on simple subject matters. And my progression in the Arcane is rapidly taking shape."
Dur'Thak closes his journal and retrieves his books on the Infernals and Fiends. He scans pages and translates faster than he has ever done so before.
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Dur'Thak sits down, hidden silently amongst the trees. A few squirrels stare at him from the distance but do not approach, unsure of what to make of him. Both freind and foe they feel within him at once . . .
"Cursed creatures, they constantly stare at me from the trees. I do not seek them as a meal, but still they flee as I approach!"
Dur'Thak stares directly at one of the squirrels, hissing slightly.
"Once I could feel their hearts and thoughts, now it is clouded, and no stronger than a whisper in a hurricane. No matter. I must continue to scribe my deeds lest they be lost to the confounds to distant memory."
"I recall events with the fur trader, still claiming that his wife has succomed to some great illness. He sends me after pelts near constantly, each larger and more difficult to find than the last. At the end of the cycle, he had me seek a Brown Bear. I traveled many lands, and yet did not find a single creature. Only Black Bears did I find. He claimed the pelts would not do. In frustration, I asked those native to the town of Hlint, many had no idea, till I happened upon dear Geddrin. Ever has he been a faithful friend since we first met. Such is the nature of those proven to Dwarves I suppose. Regardless, he was able to direct me where I must go. Into the dark woods of High forest."
"I traveled there, only to realize that I had been so close to finding my prey. There I found a single bear. It was a most difficult fight, but with the aid of Nix, the bear fell. I returned full of belly from the bear meat and pelt in hand. Again the fur trader asked me for the same pelt. Did he seek to make some construct of fur larger than a Dwarven Hall? But it did not matter, he paid well for my services."
"Again I traveled to the distant land, only to find that not a single bear roamed that forest. I traveled deeper, till I came upon what resembled a bit of my first home. No one wandered the forest and it was eerily quiet. I sought the door of one abode, without answer. As I left, I thought I heard the door open, so I returned and knocked again. Then, I was approached by a cruel woman, claiming servitued to Kiva or some such. She spoke against Nix, and claimed me to be a burgler. At which point I informed her that burglers do not knock upon the doors of their prey. She did not seem to like the explanation and continued to demand that I send Nix back to the nethers. To appease the horrid woman, I left her rotting homes, and sought back to the forests."
"Apparently the sodding piker followed me. For when I next found a brown bear, she befriended it before I could fire a bolt. Then she accused me of slaughtering all the bears of the forest. Indeeded I had felled one, but only bones had been left, for I took all meat and fur. As she blamed me, the bear became enraged at my presence and attacked."
"I give Nix great credit, for as I fended off the beast, he clevery stung it from behind. The woman calmed the creature and it lumbered away, dying. Then she allowed me to fell the creature, and as she wispered soothing words, I sank my Katana into it."
"As I did so I felt a great sadness, and a dark lust. Apparently I have not lost complete touch with my elven nature, for I did indeed feel sad to kill such a magnificent beast. But those thoughts where rapidly overrun by my desire to tear its flesh apart. I had to remind myself of my purpose. Pausing, I almost asked for forgiveness to whatever tree spirit my parents had worshiped, then I swiftly set about my task of gathering the meat and fur."
"The strange woman was overwhelmed by my actions and fled. I left some meat for her, and sent Nix to inform her of such. Then I left the cursed forest . . ."
"The fur trader granted me a boon of a well crafted bear fur cape. I will use it to replace the one that has served me for years and is too road worn to hide my nature. The new cape is sturdy and should last me some time."
"I was lucky to catch Geddrin after gaining my new prize. We sat and talked of old times together. I suggested that he should seek his brothers, for they may yet still live. He was appeased by my idea, and apparently decided to do so. In return, I willingly told him of my past, dark as it is. When all the shadows where given light, we moved on to other matters."
"And other matters I must indeed say, that Geddrin is a fine teacher of his Dwarven tongue, when I can understand it."
"My progress with the master of the Dwarven language has progressed well, and already Geddrin and myself converse on small choice topics. Though my ability is limited . . . Nix continues to prove the ever willing teacher, taking great pleasure in using chalk and boards and wearing a strange square hat. No matter, daft as he acts, his mind is still quite efficient."
Dur'Thak closes his book and continues to study under the tutlage of Nix.
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Dur'Thak sits down, content and oddly relaxed, with the smell of fresh battle about him.
"Today I repayed the the horrid woman of the forest, slave to Kiva. She blamed me for the deaths of the Bears, so I sought those who had done the fell deed. They were not hard to take during the night, so accustomed to hunting beasts, they trembled and fled as I hunted them. It is always easy to leave a crossbow in the back of fleeing prey, so unprotected as it is."
"I collected their heads, mutilated, and piked them near the bones of the bear that I skinned. There I left a note of my attentions affixed to the head of one of the foul elves."
'A favor granted, a favor returned. These are the remains of the two poachers who have decimated the bears. They truely felt the pain your honey-lovers felt during their last moments. A family of Bears lives to the south with cubs. Seek and protect them as you have tried.'
"As I left the note friends of the poaches tracked and assaulted me. They missed their mark, and were unprepared to fight one such as myself. Plunging them into darkness, I hacked them down mercilessly. One fell into the river, and I had to pull him from it to take things of value. Nix was most helpfull, poisoning one of the archers who was just about to stick me with an arrow. Ahh, that was a good day . . ."
Dur'Thak looks up and chats with Nix casually, using simple terms in the Infernal language. For the first time in years he does not open his books on the fell languages as his day ends and night deepens.
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Dur'Thak sits, writing in an alternating script of slashed common and crude infernal.
"This was a most interesting course of events. Having ventured from Hlint I encountered Alymli and a large troupe of his companions. Apparently a fiendish spider had settled in the sewers when I left the rat-man to die, poor filthy creature. Most curiously I felt the presence of another . . . planar born. How odd it felt, it was as if there was a slight tingling sense that told each of us to the others presence. Something dark in me hated her, and I know not why. In time I found that she may have been fiendishly gifted . . . I suspect that something in our dark heritage quarrles, for the hate I felt, though it scratched at the back of my mind, was more primal than any desire I have known . . ."
"But, that is not what I must remember. I ventured with Alymli's party for some time, apparently they sought some sort of spider slayer. Many had no idea where to find him, so the planar born and most of the Dwarven folk split to search. Knowning the wisdom and kinship of the Dwarves, I followed with them. Right they were, seek the spider slayer in the cave where spiders grow. Having found the Dwarf I sent Nix off to send word to the foul Tiefling. We met in Hlint and made our way into the sewers. The fighting was intense, and I have never before seen so many arachnids, but with the aid of the Spider Slayer we soon cleared the caves."
"Afterword I sought the Tiefling woman as an aid in helping me learn the language. She was . . . less than helpfull, but did give me some insight to the nature of the pronounciation, as I listend to her. She taught me a word Nix had spoken quite often . . . Yirk vdt. In time, I found that Nix had indeed tricked me, for the term did not mean thanks master at all, as I had suspected, but pike off instead. I sent Nix back to the planes for that. In time I will summon him again . . ."
"With some luck I found Geddrin. Always the willing teacher, he continued my lessons on the tongue of the Dwarves."
Dur'Thak shuts the book and pulls out his book on the infernals, asking Nix to assist with various pronounciations.
-
"Nix was particularly irritating today, offering a song that he could not explain. I pen his words to study in detail:
'Shadows of Wolves
Dusts of Light
Clouds the mind
Unable to take flight
From war was borne
In war will be saved
Lost his name
Lost his home
In the planes all is same
His soul be dead
On the dark road he treds
Once elven
now Demon
All is made clear as ash turns to fire
and fire fordges strong will'
"Nix could not explain the words, nor why he knew them. Obviously, much of this reflects my past, but to what end? I was pondering this as I walked through Hlint some time ago, Nix conversing at my side. As I passed the Bank I was assaulted by the foul slave to Kiva. She demanded that I banish Nix at once, as if she had the power to tell me what and where to walk. I denied her order, and left her to her own poisons."
"Nix on the other hand had ideas of our own. As I rested further down in town, he set off on his own. He would not tell me what he had done, but, the slave of Kiva, known to me now as _Emerald_"
Dur'Thak slashes at the page as he writes the name, some deep anger boiling within him.
"Many gathered round us, taking both sides yet none. The one known to me as Ranewin said that she had helped me on many occasions, and that I should now disband my creature in repayment for the help. Help she gave freely and unrequested for! I will remember her, and make certain she does no such thing for me in the future, less I be given debts never named till such time as the person finds it useful. All gathered spoke that they would subdue anyone who attacked the other. . . Lies, all of it. . . Emeraled tried many things to rid the town of Nix, till finally she attacked. She batted nix heavily with her club. And as she did, none came to my aid. Obviously I could not attack the foul woman, too many were on her side, speaking as fiends of neutrality till their prefered side can be taken. I covered the city in darkness and fled with Nix in my arms. He was alive, but badly beaten. We hid in the craft hall, an unwise move, but I left him in a corner to recouperate for a while as I worked the fordge to quell my anger. After a time, Nix came to his senses and decided to keep a distant eye on the foul one. I bade him to be cautious, and continued to work the forge."
"As I did, I smelled the acrid scent of burnt leather and steel. My smock was fine, and no fire could I find . . . Till I noticed my armor. My skin had heated to such an extent that it was burning my armor, but not seriously enough to ignite it. This had never happened before . . . I stood bewildered as a coal smoking from a fresh fire, and as I lost thought to Emerald, I cooled."
"I soon deduced what had occured. Such anger welled within me as to cause some reflex internally. Abyssals are known for their, firey apptitudes . . . Apparently when such deep seated anger takes me my Abyssal heritage boils within, so close to the primal emotion I felt, and takes shape by clouding my mind, and now, nearly bursting me into flames."
"As I cooled, and admired my bodily handiwork, Geddrin found me. He said that he had given Emerald quite the tongue lashing for what she had done, and as he had done so, demons appeared in the town of Hlint. I of course, was blamed for them appearing in the city . . . Demons defending demons such as they said. He bade me to follow and set the record straight, less I be tainted forever in the eyes of others. I cared not, but realized the wisdom of his advise."
"We traveled to the city square, but none were found. The city had emptied, odd as it was . . . Geddrin and I spoke for a time, and he continued his lessons."
"When we parted Nix was in no mood to teach, still frustrated as he was, so I returned him to the planes and set about my own studies. I have now made many sucessful inroads into the language of the infernals. Nix's aid has been infallable, my studies of those unwilling to teach has provided keen insight, and on the day of the encounter with Emerald I learned a key component to the language. Anger and chaotic thoughts seem to focus the words. Surely, one can be understood, but to truely be fluent, one must 'give in' to the language. My encounter with Emerald gave me this insight as I practiced, her foul face still fresh on my mind."
-
Dur'Thak sits, pleased with himself.
"I am nearly caught up with all events I would pen to recall for a later time. To this end, I recall events some time ago . . . I was under hire from the local post warden. Two of them in fact. Each sent me ridiculous distances to deliver simple notes . . but, that was what I had been hired for after all. During one such venture I was instructed to pass beyond the shores of hlint to a location known now to me as Point Harbor. From there I was to deliver a note to some burgeoning farmer."
"I also met one now known to me as Morgana Fey, a reluctant creature telling me some addled gibberish that I could control my ultimate destiny. Yes, my ultimate, but not final destiny. For that is bound to the final moment of death, which I do not control, nor does any addled power."
"The events that followed were most fortunate. With luck I found this addled farmer, gave him his note, and by chance, had found the remains of his dead cow bessie. Purely by accident I had slain the overgrown Griffon plauging the area."
"Needless to say, the information and return of the collar carried it's own rewards. Two planes with one soul, eh? Nevertheless, I could not resist the temptation to explore the lands beyond. In time I came to a location known to me now as Casterly Castle, and a small outlying farmstead along a lake."
"It was there, with great luck, that I came across Geddrin. He spoke that there was a matter that he had been hired to do and was just on his way to complete it. Scarecrows had become possessed by some force and were plauging a local farmer's crops. Odd."
"I assisted Geddin without second thought. Few do I call friend such as he, so he need only request my sword or spell for it to be delivered. The battle was . . amusing. We made short work of the creatures and returned for our reward. Ahh, hard jink, the universal form of thanks for all planes apparently."
"It was relaxing to finally communicate with Geddrin on a rudimentary level in Dwarvish. I had never taken to know the minds of Dwarves, but must now profess that they are clear spoken and deep of thought, when not using the foul language of the human stock."
-
Dur'Thak stands writing against a fallen rock, full of puzzlement.
"Some days ago I met one now known to me as Saren. She was an elf of sorts apparently, having left her home. I spoke with her at lenght of events that I have yet to share with others."
"Perhaps it was because when I came upon her, I saved her from her own ignorance. Surely she would have gotten herself killed had she fought with the orcs as she did. I merely set into the Orcs to fill my own latent hunger. She came to know my thirsts, as I describe them, or better put, the thirsts that I feel from the dark fire within."
"I must be more careful in the future. I spoke at lenght, perhaps out of some deep longing to return home to the outer ring. No, not directly to the great forests of the outlands above Arborea . . . such would be a swift fate. But the hive or even addled xaos would give me greater meaning then this . . . "
"Perhaps . . . "
Dur'Thak trails off, penning no more words.
-
Dur'Thak stands against the trees, still puzzled over some other event that he has yet to pen.
"I recall other events that were most profitable recently. By sheer luck, I was attempting to form a small band to take down a rogue Bugbear chieftan who had taken it upon himself to play the role of warlord. Little did I know that such events would extend so far. . ."
"At first I encountered a few. Renji, Rollie, and a few other names that I have yet to recall specifically. And yet, in a matter of hours during our conversation our numbers swelled inumerably."
"I must admit, the feeling of knowning that I had formed a small army seemed somewhat familiar, and greatly satisfying. But I had not done such things till this day, so I suspect it was some deep seated memory that my kin had once spoke of."
"In all cases, we set to the bugbear chieftan directly. Our numbers so large, and apt in war, I could not consider this a war party but more of a force of extermination."
"We slaughtered every last one of the Bugbears, and I had the pleasure of taking the leaders head."
"I think I will fashion a helm from his skull, but I leave that to later events."
"Upon returning to Point Harbor, I was able to speak at lenght with Renji and the one now known to me as Sin. A powerful mage, most admitably. I must seek his knowledge in the future."
"It was after the events of the war that I spoke at lenght with the one known as Mathilda. She did not understand the strenght of emotion, having decided to turn from it as some enlightened being. Commendable, but ultimately foolish. True, I wrestle with darkness within, often to my great loss and frustration. But, her path can not be mine. Too much am I ruled by dark thoughts that whisper when all sound has faded . . . Still, she is puzzling and I find her words strangely interesting."
-
Dur'Thak sits around his camp, nervously mulling something over in his mind. Various hand drawn maps are strewn about, drawing connections to a strange un-named forrested land.
"A plan forms in my mind but I fear to pen it . . . especially after recent events. Too many darks do I list in explicit detail. Should these journal's ever be captured, I most certainly would not be on the pleasent end of Oblivion."
"Untill that time however, I will continue to pen such events as I can. Some time ago I assisted a fairly large group of individuals in stopping an unusuall grouping of Gnolls and Minotaurs. At the heart of their union there seemed to be some sort of strange melody . . ."
"I sent Nix high above the camp to investigate. Sometimes he can be most usefull . . . He returned with information that a great host of Minotaurs, Gnolls, and other creatures gathered. It was his guess that the music emanated from within an unadorned wagon. He began to explain things in further detail, but our small band was then ambushed by a band of Goblins. They were organized, mounted, and armored . . . certainly not the Goblins I know."
"We prevailed with superior force. Many of the Goblins fell before they could even realize that they were dying. It was a satisfying battle, but that did not last long. For soon I tasted magot and dirt."
"It was the plan of our troupe to rush headlong and overwhelm the Gnolls within. For a time, it seemed that we were winning, as we made our way deep into the camp. Then came the stomping of hooves."
"Massive bull men charged us, which I latter came to *know* as Minotaurs. Needless to say . . . they slaughtered us for all but a few. I felt the sting of death, as I foolishly attempted to stand ground for those whom I came to aid. A mistake I will not repeat twice . . ."
"I feel into darkness for a long time, and did not feel the call of the 'Soul Mother.' I thought, for a time, that perhaps I was set free finally. A chance to pass back to the outlands . . . perhaps back to even my beloved Arborea. But nothing . . . . only a strange foul whisper that I could feel but not hear."
"In time, I awoke to the aid of a wandering Druid. He told me to flee, and I did as he said. His magic had returned me to life, and I had no intentions of testing myself agains the grip of the Soul Mother a second time."
"Wiser from our failure a few of us decided to sneak directly into the camp and assault the source of music directly. I was not one of the chosen few, and remained behind with the others to guard the escape, should our plan succeed."
"And it did, beautifully . . . The source of the mischief was an odd Violin. I was drawn to it . . . I could smell the stink of the planes on it . . . could feel it reaching for me. But I could not hold it, nor could I persuade the holder to release it to me."
"The item was then rushed to a temple for keeping nearbye. Apparently, it would be destroyed . . . Such a waste."
"On the return trip home, Geddrin spoke with me for a time. Ensuring that I had not forgotten his teachings, and had indeeded developed a bit more than he had hoped. Though I still lack the ability to describe the eighty or so descriptive terms for various alchohols. Odd that they would need so many words to describe the same thing. Geddrin reassures me each word means something slightly different, but I have yet to *know* the difference . . ."
-
Dur'Thak sits down, admiring his armor.
"I must admit . . . the armor that I had been coveting for sometime has proved invaluable. Certainly, I had obtained it some time back . . before I was strong enough to bear it . . ."
"It is good that I hoarded this little treasure. At first it proved most restrictive to cast in. I have slowly adjusted however, and movement almost feels natural. Rarely does it restrict me so much now that I am unable to cast, but that is a risk I now bear."
"I have not called upon Nix for sometime now . . . I am concerned that if I gate him in too often, I may find myself in an unwanted circumstance."
-
Dur'Thak sits down outside the Great Library, a great host of
information still swelling in his Brain.
"I must stop all this incessent reading for a time. So much have I
poured over since I found this 'Great Library.' There is much more to
learn. . . I can not believe that such a great host of darks remains
unguarded."
"Aside from this, I must pen a few events before they fade into the
darker parts of the turn. A while back Rhynn was acting most
distressed. I had still only known for for a short time, but her great
frustration was intriguing."
"Apparently she was dealing with some inner turmoil after some barmy
power peeled and tossed her. Kora as I came to know the name. After
some discussion, she spilled out that she wanted to loose sight,
hearing, everything. A sensory death she called for . . . good think
she never talked with a senser. They would probably allow an illithid
to feed upon them just to know what it was like to be a snack. About
as bad as the Xaosects . . . but those are other matters."
"I offered Rhynn a bit of comfort by blocking out the light. It was
comforting to sit there silently in the Shadows. But my abilities to summon the inky Darkness are not very strong, and in time it faded."
"I spoke some words to Rhynn to comfort her, offering her what little wisdom I have to offer in regards to these dark matters."
"And then . . . she prompted me for the oddest question. That being if she was one of the blighted lighters. It was a simple task I thought, either she knew that she was one, and could sink into the light as I do the darkness, or she most likely was not. She could not call forth light as I do the shadows so I set about another test. In my experience, when ever I had come into contact with a lighter, a burning crawling sensation occured. Often such points of contact became . . heated. I had her extend my hand to catch some of my blood then out of curiosity. Nothing could reveal more than that."
"As the blood cooled she claimed it was still warm. I must admit, that does not bode well for her then. But perhaps the blighted taint is faint enough that it will not have an undue affect on her. Unless of course, she seeks it as I do."
"I parted words with her in the end, offering one of those foul smelling 'roses.' I have seen them cheer human women up in the past, and apparently it had some effect on the berk."
"Strangely . . . I wish her luck in her endeavor."
"Geddrin and a few of his folk were headed to Dregar that day, we conversed in Dwarvish momentarily, as best as I could, but neither of us had time to burn."
"Ultimately, I set out on my own to hunt in the broken forest. Such a peacefully spiteful place."
-
Dur'Thak sits down, barely able to contain himself, his tail lashing about wildly.
"On this day I came to truely understand a part of Rhynn, entirely by accident I must add. The power mad creature, Kora, apparently appeared on the heals of some barmy shifter. Needless to say, she has a debt to repay and must find a way to kill this creature in the planes."
"After a lucky discussion with her, I found that she will be venturing to Arborea. . . Of all the places in the ring. I am a native born to the outlands above Arborea . . My own kin considered themselves Arboreans on many occassions. My elf kin at least, if they are indeed still kin."
"But finally, a chance to make it off this burg! Back to the ring where I belong and I can find a way to hide from this taint . . . No . . . I will return to Arborea for other reasons. Though I can barely admit them to myself."
"I go there to die."
"It has been my long held belief that if I were to die in Arborea without commiting a crime, my soul would pass to that plane. Do I dare try it? Leave all this torture and shadow and hunger behind?"
"I will see. If they head to Arborea, I will . . . go under any means. Not even Nix will know the dark of my plan . . ."
"Arborea . . . home."
Dur'Thak trails off, his mind lost in distant thought.
-
Abyss . . .
Dur'Thak sits, shivering, nearly bent over in terror . . . and a strange joy.
"I went to Arborea. I aided Rhynn . . . A hard battle we fought. Many . . . many died."
"My plan . . . failed."
"I went to Arborea . . . Before I entered I questioned myself before Ozymandias. Am I an Elf or am I a Demon. The Arborean power said that she would not willingly allow a Darkblood to enter . . . save only three. Ozymandias being amongst them."
"She made a portal for those who were not welcome."
"I . . . I stepped through the other portal, to Arborea."
"I was a peace for once . . . I could not hear the dark whispers, feel the shadows. It felt like an eternity . . . that I was free. And then . . . it found me. That inner hatred welled up within me like a consuming fire. I could feel myself . . pulled away."
"And there . . . I found myself in the Abyss. The windswept, snowcapped field of a great constant battle."
"I fell down in terror and sadness . . . I felt the elven blood screaming against the onslaught of my darker heritage. So small, yet so powerful it seemed in that twisted place."
"My last hope of redemption had faded. I am . . . an abyssal now. I am bound there for the deeds I have done, and the curse my father has blighted me with. Forever shall I know the taint and horrors of the Bloodwar now. Never again will I know the touch of Arborea's warm soil . . . and . . . I barely remember why I truely care now."
"I cast off the remnants of my pendant that was given to me by my mother. There next to the portal it lay. Broken and half twisted as I am, the wolf pendant had been discarded long ago when I left home and found my way to Sigis.A crafting of Arborea forever bound in the Abyss. . . a good resemblance I must say of things to come."
"I had enough wit about me once the terror passed, and the hunger surged, to used my spells to move unseen. Marilyths . . . armies of them . . . patrolled near the gate. As my spells and will faltered . . I found myself pinned up against a rock, hiding however I could. It was there that I began to scratch into the rock what I considered the last moments of my life. The last moments that were supposed to be spent in Arborea, or even the outlands . . ."
"I was called to Arborea in the end by the binding power there . . . But I was too . . . wild . . . to realize it. I barely had enough sense to take a single Arborean leaf . . . I still carry it with me now."
"There are . . . thoughts . . . within myself that have been given a new louder voice. Always I have described this as a strange . . hunger. Now I know not what it is. So strongly does it now crawl at the back of my mind."
"I told Rhynn much of this, some time later. I told her . . ."
"I tolder her more . . . than I probably should have. I have not even told Geddrin the name of my birth. Kothanos . . . the name feels like I speak of another individual still living in the outlands."
"I wept before her. Told her that I sought to seek out my homeland and let Shantara know that I still live. She would do well to know that her son has not died. Or perhaps I should not, as twisted as I have become . . ."
Dur'Thak stops, then slowly lifts his weapons. Through the trees he slides to find some prey to feed the inner shadow and flame. In this he knows he will find another moment of clarity.
-
Dur'Thak sits near the oceanside by Valensk, soaking his sore body. His skin steams constantly, as if partially cooked. Carefully, he scribes by the waters edge, ensuring his pages and journal remain dry.
"To Pandemonium we went; the riders, myself, and others for their cause. I must admit, to hear of the howling winds is one side of the dark, to experience it is like getting skinned by a 'lolth. A number of petitioners did not like our presence, and quickly assaulted us in droves."
"In time we reached Asylum. And then all the primes went loose like monkies. Barmy sods all of them, its like they were cagestruck in the worst possible place to loose their worms. Looking back, I'm seriously surprised that any of the clueless made it out alive. Like a throng of seeting sensers . . ."
"I maintained what order I could to the berks outside, while others were intent on filling their gullets with whatever mibix the Illithid tavern could offer while banging around the burg as if on a holiday. If I only had a way to laugh my way out of there back to the outlands or sigil . . ."
"Things came to a good resolve, luckily. The bally sods didn't get themselves scribed by some luck of the ward thats for bally certain."
"We fought a good number of barmies when the clueless opened the cages, like pulling bricks from the brickbeast. At last we found Kora . . ."
"The one *known* as Ozymandias gave her the amulet, but it didnt' seem to have any affect on that power. Twirled it like it was a toy. Then the sodding piker blitzed right through a crack. Left us all for her shadow. Didn't take a tick for me to twig on that idea either. After she stamped about preparing to kill us all, I blitzed it also. Better to leave the clueless than to be one."
"I found the piker on the other side, working to undo his little charm. Barmy mindnick working his slings. As he was undoing it, Kora found us. Killed some young piker with wings. Came to find it was Ireth's own."
Dur'Thak pauses, thinking on something, but not penning those thoughts.
"Kora stood there, rattling her bone box till her dice fell out. Played the Gully for Ozymandias as he worked his charm backwards. It wasn't long until that halfer at the heart of this absorbed his horses like a creature without bowels. No matter on that. Sure as Sigil, the barmy halfer styxed her. And then. . ."
Dur'Thak shudders, recoiling in pain from the blinding memories.
"We were all forced into celestia before the sodding tarn. Not a place for a tiefer. Abigail, and myself hotfooted it about the place. But I dared not touch the water to cool myself. That blighted light burned constantly, not just my orbs, but I felt like I was roasting from the inside out. I watched Ozy curl up on the ground. Felling piker. I then did what I could for Abigail and myself by tossing down one of the skins I had with me. It almost helped, but the light didn't stop . . ."
"By the lady, I was finally freed of that cage. I guess the little piker that was Ireth's own somehow split the bean on her fate. The blighter half took abigail and myself out of the blasted land, popped us right into a wonderful void."
"Next time I go playing rounder with the clueless, I need to make sure the pikers are not vining to head to one of the sevens."
"I guess it all crossed the styx in the end though, seems all is right that needed it. . . At least I now have a good map to a few portals off this burg. Found a way to Arborea and Pandemonium now."
Dur'Thak sits his journal down safely, dunking himself further in the water to cool.
-
Rorty Stype
Dur'Thak sits down a bit bemused.
"I've a good summary of recent events that I must not styx. After significant hard work, I finally managed to obtain a unique mace from a berk over by Vale. Very handy this thing will be. Building on that, I finally got both of my rods of cold enchant . . ."
Dur'Thak hisses angrily
"That was a fair battle of worms on that. The first rod came with great difficulty, after a seemingly easy square trade. The berk *known* as Jin told me his price while some biting halfer kept rolling the dice over ever word that I spilled out. Fatfinger? I can't recall, hope the piker falls into the lady's shadow over some razorvine. Can't get that piker to stich it if all of mechanus went barmy trying."
"We squared on a skinned razor for the rod. Five and a half merts pluss enough glass ingots to build a house. After I did all my applechasing, finally draged the sod-sack back to Jin, gold and glass. Thats when he turned a double stag on me. That sodding biter he kept company with just wouldn't stitch it, so naturally she starting crawling in my dice. Told her, often and unpleasantly as possible, to stitch it, especially after her barmy comments to grind my own long-dice to stop the infernal hissing."
"Jin crossed at that, and left me torqued. Had to play the tout and call him out on his own. While doing that another soding friend of the biter spit on the temple floor, I guess in disgust of me. Clueless primers."
Dur'Thak chuckles
"Even I'm not that barmy. In the end I finally got that ol' greybeard to keep straight on his bargin. Wanted to add another skin to the interest of our deal. Call people by their names and such. I played cony on him, said that I wouldn't but might make an exception for him. Did so long enough to get my Jinx and hit the shadows laughing."
"Some ticks later, I came across Rhynn again. Promised that chit I'd make her a cant guide. Something to help her understand the planetouched a bit more I guess. Primers guide to the Hive I'll call it."
Dur'Thak looks around carefully, taking note that he is explicitly concealed.
"Now for the rorty stype. Some blood, a friend of Starr, black pearl, wants me to play scra-per for him. Got hired to do so and paid up front. Top shelf blood on that one. I'll be parking my ears with Nix there soon. Lots of things to gather from Karthy."
A quick list follows:
Trade routes, powers, proxies, whos willing to give the laugh to the hardheads, whos the hardest head, and a final note: Some mertbashers doing scribbing work for the book on anyone who turns stag on the burg.
-
A quicklist is provided, apparently in no particular order for some purpose:
three garnets, a gold ingot, clay ring mould. Find Allenia.
-
Dur'Thak sits down, many hand drawn maps and various lists in hand.
"Piking sod of a tiefer, I left my journal behind when I set to Karthy. Spent a great number of weeks there and had to use a few pages from the book of cant I had on me to do what needed to be done. Guess Rhynn will wait another tick, its near finished anyways. As it stands, I have gotten peery with quite a few Darks over in Karthy. May have even made two allies to give the place the laugh with if the gears run backwards."
"I believe I found the master at arms after a bit of hard tongue work. Neira, the local dock tout, had a soft spot for her little's. She was a hard cage to crack, guess a berk looking as I do doesn't inspire immediate kinship"
Dur'Thak grins, continuing.
"I played nice with her, knowing I'm too shadowy for most at first peer. Started with general questions, then leaving. Good slip-the-knot type work on that. I kept careful with my words, only asking her what should be asked of a tout to a new comer at first. Then I made a bold move. Offered her some jink to know who might run the shipping in the area."
"An easy question, one that any local would no, and that most outsiders might not. She didn't think much of it, but slowly I greased her with enough Jink that she took to me a little easier. Found out that she had little biters, set of two of them apparently. Blighted things. I offered her a shivless hand on that, brought her some food for her and the biters. Turns out she was down on her luck and running shy on the greens needed to pay for her kip."
"I'll need to remember that one: best way to grease a mother is to feed the runts. She took an almost immediate liking to me then."
"Played a few more weeks with her as cony, working information. Finally Neira told me some good darks. Who she knows that runs the trade routes, that a few of the ship captains are unhappy since the large galleon in the port has taken most of their buisness and charging extra taxes on that. Seems those berks play by their own rules and have ties with the mertbashers who keep the locals stiched."
"Things come to Karthy one of two ways, by ship, and by caravan. Though most of the caravans don't seem to be carrying rough goods."
"Neira was a good friend of one of the Ship Captains who'd turn stag on the local hardheads if he had the chance."
"I took to talking with the cutter. Old sod, seen enough of my types that he didn't even pause a tick. Good thing Neira sent me, He trusted me only because she did."
"He had a lot of darks to spill. Been around Karthy for a long time, seen the powers come and go. Wants his buisness back, and a better life for his ship-mates."
"He spilled quickly enough that the master of arms calls most of the shots, and works closely with the mertbashers who styx any of the local red runners. That gave me an idea where to find the blood, see what I might be able to procure."
"This was a true trick of the hive here. I found out some time ago, through a carelessly made healing potion, that refined stink beetle gland, when mixed with a few drops of bombarder acid, produces the worst case of diarea this side of the Styx Oarsman."
"I plied my trade on that, worked to refine the stink gland into a colorless and orderless extract.. Pretty potent stuff. Turns out any acid activates its latent property. I suspect the diarea more an act of the resultant gas escaping the bowles after churning in the gut."
"Needless to say, I procured four fine bottls of Wisp whiskey I believe it was. Laced them all lightly with the refined extract."
"From there, was a simple delivery to the tout in other side of Karty who seems to run the local pawner. Paid her up front to deliver the goods directly to the Master at arms. She did, and well at that. Whiskey late in the day, signed from "Very Content Merchant" usually does not last the night. Neither did the Master at arms."
"I found him and a few of his mertbashers turn out quick enough. Guess my latest refinement was not what I had intended. The berk came out puking, whiskey still in hand. Apparently he had pulled the stoppers on all four bottles I had sent him. Don't think he'll expect the bub at all."
Dur'Thak chuckles loudly
"It was a good thing I was invisible off in the distance with Nix, if I was too close the berk would have heard me lauging at his expense. After he finished spilling himself to the floor, him and his cutters wandered over to the Xeenite temple for some "confession." Berk has the sckness all right. I snuck into their room before the invisiblity wore off to see what I could gather. Just a ledger with a few names, read through it quickly,but nothing else I could do. Can't take it or I'll be scragged and dragged for sure."
"After all that was done I took to the roads and swamps about Karthy. Got peery with the troll caves and their swamps. Something was amiss there, notes below in the maps. I also tracked out the caravan trails through the hills below some place of elemental binding or such. Nix got peery on what seems to be a portal of sorts, didn't swim out to it, but could study much of it from a distance."
"Never felt so, fulfilled, doing skiv work; better than applechasing."
Dur'Thak looks over his notes, making meticulously accurate copies. His tail lashes continously, obviously more pleased with himself than he admits after venturing in Karthy for so long.
"Need to deliver these to Starr at first light."
// OOC: loading images storybook fashion as quickly as I can into the photoalbum. Will have link here after work.
-
"I've done what I can in Karthy. Found strong stype over there on a few bloods, cost me a few merts, but was worth the effort. Seems Neira has taken a bit to me also, those gifts to her biters greased her right out of her shadow."
"Now to see how everything plays out. I admire Starr's noble goal to help out that pearl blood, but, I'm in it for . . . less favorable reasons. Need to see how I can turn this further in my favor, hopefully peel a few more merts before everything is scribed to the books."
"Can't find much in way of the sewers for the place, guess a port city doesn't need to flow things very far. But, that galleon will be trouble. Well armed it is."
"Nix and I have been planning an ambush using carefully placed fire bombs and alchemists fire. May take the ship if I can smoke them out instead with the choking powder . . alas that is the better option. Leaves the goods intact. I'll need to work on a sizeable amount of bombs then . . . have nix sneak them onto the ship. Well placed sonic sling will do the trick to pop'em open. That will leave the hardheads themselves."
"Seems they come out in force themselves to put down those who'd turn stag on the burg. Naturally they have a kip somewhere . . . Neira told me to stay away from one of the buildings near the arms master in the upper part of the district. I'll give that place a peer once more and find out. If it is theirs, then I'll have a use for my firebombs afterall."
Dur'Thak rubs his hands eagerly, content in his schemes.
// Dur'Thak's current plans are as follows:
1. Lace the building that houses the guards that help quell the populace. Create a series of Firebombs under invisiblity in good places. Use them to bring the building down on the guards who aren't on the good side of things.
2. Stink out the galleon if its armed to the teeth with the people we need to oust. Nix will lace the galleon with as many stink bombs and choking powder as can be set about the place. Plans are, if needed, to enlist another thief to lace the place with stink bomb based traps, and have nix activate the rest. If required, Nix can take out the guard in the crows nest with his poison sting and just start tossing down as many choking powders as needed.
3. The commotion on the ship should rouse the guards. Especially the ones that need to be taken out. As they step out of their building to quell the uprising *boom* off goes the alchemists fire and firebombs. The amount of alchemist fire and firebombs around the building will be *excessive* - Dur takes pride in his work.
4. Marshmellows and smores for everyone.
-
//
/*
Link to gallery here: http://www.layonaraonline.com/forums/photos/photo-thumbnails.asp?albumid=465
Map given to star is the last in the set. Review in order of oldest image first for a storyboard type read. I'll pull the non interesting images after the quest is complete
*/
//
-
Dur'Thak sits in his new favored spot deep in the Seperent Mountains.
"It seems that Hlint has been overrun by good natured drow and their ilk feeling the underdark. I had never seen their kind in Sigil or the Outlands before, but I knew of them from some fabled stories passed to me during my time as an Elven youth."
"One particular berk has had me park my ears a few times for the wig-wag. We found common ground for our disdain of surfacers, which for me includes most clueless. Few cogs out of the gears on that, but . . ."
Dur'Thak shrugs, continuing to write.
"Nepp'ayko or some such, call him berk for short. We've traveled and rattled our bone boxes with each other a number of times now. He's taken to teaching me Drow and has made a great effort in doing so over the last Month. I must admit, it rolls through the dice easier. Some elves have called it harsher . . . I found it more Dwarflike with its sharp consonates and dark undertones."
"Which ever way the ring turns I don't mind spilling the meaning of the cant for a language used by the deep dwelers. They might have some usefull darks to spill when the time comes . . . Far as I know their kind has regular dealings with fiends. A good set of darkbeards to know."
Dur'Thak grins strangely, something churning in his mind.
"Speaking of Darks, I need to get this barmy book of cant to Rhynn some time soon. Just needss some finishing touches."
"That reminds me of another bit of cant thats been banging around my box. Some chit named Ashiel, whom I've seen around a few times before, asked for help a tick or two ago. Turns out she was following in the footsteps of some shadow magic she had seen a long time ago."
"I aided her, better than sprouting roots in the barmy burg known as Hlint. After all, she needed a rounder who knew their way through the serpent mountains. I have spent enough time rock-hopping out there that I more than knew my way about."
"She sought a cave that held some shadow gem, where living shadows and such wandered. I knew of only two caves of any worth that might match that dark. There was the Drow temple in the river of shadows . . . but I've not managed to find my way in. And there was another cave northward towards the Rifts. . ."
"Neither proved to be what she needed. So we took to wig-wagging it in the local fort. Seems a cave may have been out in the desert. Hit the bricks out of there, and 'lo, an entrance that I had never seen before had been uncovered. Must have been swept clear of the sands covering it."
"Blitzing inside we found an ancient abandoned city. And that is where the clueless turn stag to shamblers as is said in the hive. Kinson, that barmy sod of a lighter, figured the best way to keep the rest of us safe was to trip every trap and laugh in bedlam till the dusties found us. If I only had a quiet moment, I'd have styxed that berk."
"We made it through with our bags in one piece to a warding chamber. Had a chest in the middle guarded by four electrical wards. Figured the best way to get to the chest was to sc-rap the traps. Each ward marked a door towards it, so we started to head through."
"Naturally, traps are on the ground, and doors locked tighter than the brick beast, I gated Nix in. Oi! And the clueless find the razorwash! Kinson, that addle-cove of a blighted lighter, immediately took to attacking Nix! I parried his clumsy sword blows. Luckily, Nix liked Ashiel and was still willing to get peery on the traps."
"Kinson ran a red one on that, wanting only to see Nix get styxed back to the abyss. Barmy sod. Nix cleared the door, and opened it. Bally little blighter then took to getting a hug from Ashiel . . . can't say I blame the little biter."
Dur'Thak shrugs, mouthing the word 'Imps.'
"Not but a few paces down, Kinson kept barking off at me to gate Nix back out. 'This is your last warning' The sodding piker kept saying. 'Good, now if you'll stitch it so you don't get us all scragged.' I shot back to him. Guess he didn't understand the meaning of his own words. Last time I check with primers 'last' meant that they were going to stitch their bleeding boxes and do something! Guess that addle-cove wouldn't tumble to the dark of his own death if he shived himself in the cage with his own leg. Rawkin showed enough respect to ask me to send Nix out. He's a worthy cutter, and seeing as Kinson wasn't going to cross shivs, I put Nix back to the planes. Shot back at the bloody halo why he wouldn't travel with an Imp but would travel with a fiendling in the shadows. All he could say was that he was here cause I was a friend and Adam to Ashiel. Bleeding clueless."
"A hidden door was found easily enough in the storage room to the east end of the wards, the only one that led down."
Dur'Thak thumps his tail sharply to the ground, obviously agitated.
"We found our way to a darker place, no thanks to that bleeding piker. The fiend in me certainly felt at home in that lightless place. Torches could be faintly seen in the magical darkness, guiding the way to various dead ends. Eventually, through more error than trial, we found our way to a crafting station housing onyx, copper, and what appeared to be some sort of dark furnace. Intriguing . . . I've mapped out the area to the best of my knowledge, should I ever find my way back there again.
A few notes and sketches follow of the place, including an outline to the furnace, and a snaking map, showing the way through the darkness.
"I found some Onyx in the pale light of the furnace, hidden in a vein of copper. Good thing I'm handy with the gems. Pulled them out safely for Ashiel."
"Then she disappeared. Dark on it as far as I could guess was that she was summoned by what she sought. Things turned for the best when the ring came full circle. She reappeared, with her shadow gem, and back to Pranzis like a cony. I had to give the place the laugh then . . . something in me was a bit addled, and I felt it best to part company."
-
Dur'Thak sits down, staring absently at his journals. Finally he lifts his broken quill, scribing slowly.
"Recent events . . . have been . . . uniquely disturbing. The creature known as the soul mother apparently found me . . . I had been traveling with Ashiel, Dulan, the berk who tossed acid on me, and Elrend and another I believe. We set ourselves to the Giants. There we fought great battles, laying waste to many."
"At one point . . . the Giants ambushed our sodding troupe. I must have been around the clueless for too long, for I stood my ground. I heard the elf in me telling me to run . . . The fiend in me only laughing. I played hardhead for longer than I ever will again. I was softened by the 'friendship' I have been shown of late by so many."
"I stood ground till my spells failed and I felt a giant cleave me in half . . ."
"And then . . . I felt the grasp of the Soul Mother as I passed to the Abyss."
Dur'Thak hisses angrily.
"My thoughts beyond that are empty, but I recall Dulan, raising me once more. Asking me to thank him and Toran. Thank him for failing to sling his sodding favors! Never again will I leave my life in the bleeding grip of some clueless primer!"
Dur'Thak shivers, his tail lashing violently.
"I have heard those who feel themselves grow weaker and empty as though a hole was bored into their bag. For me . . . it was different. I could feel that fiend that crawls in my thoughts gain a stronger voice as though the elf in me grew weaker. It is of no matter . . . Hiver's creed need only be forgotten once to get a bag styxed to the deadbook. I'll not root myself again when I feel the Lady's shadow upon me. To the pits with these clueless!"
Dur'Thak slams his journal closed, marching deeper into the Serpent Mountains to take refuge on his dark thoughts.
-
Dur'Thak sits, thumping his tail ryhtmatically against his chair in the Great Library. Many books lay sprawled out before him. Casually, he leans back and lifts his Journal. Many pages have been devoted to recent magical study. Various alchemical properties, magical enhancements, locations of gems and other resources also sprawl multiple chapters. However, amongst all the notes the most striking collection of recent information is a thick and detailed chapter on the anatomy and properties of various lesser-fiends and celestials.
Dur'Thak flips past those pages to find a fresh sheet. Placing his quill to the paper he begins to hiss slightly.
"The Lady's shadow has thus far strayed far from me. I can feel a strength I have never felt before grow . . . such power and balance with sling and shiv . . . always I can feel that hunger for more though."
"Recently I explored the river of shadows based on the accounts Kiva had passed on to me. It is a fell place, certainly one worthy of a spot amongst the ring. I've taken a sample of the water from the river to try and discern its nature. Thus far I can not tell much, beyond that it is tainted with a faint power. Some dark that has yet to be tumbled to. My best guess so far, is that it is somehow seeping power from the Drow temple I have found, pulling its strength from the under-depths. Many creatures in the area are powerfull bloods beyond, worthy of mention in the outlands."
"Yet still, the lower denizens of the planes mark my worms. Fiends, in all their scheming, carry a great power unto themself. In time, I hope to unlock such secrets . . . perhaps awakening my own inner nature."
"Why, I ask myself, is a simple matter. I was to be born of a half-demon, yet carry only a taint of the fiend line in my blood. Such magic my family must have wrought in the hidden forests of the great ring to draw the taint from my mothers womb. I should be thankful for that, for I am thus not a cambion or other half-bred denizen of the Abyss, at the whip of a greater blood. However, I have now questioned myself as to how much of the elf-blood truely remains. Such was first brought to light by some addle-coved hander seeking greater worms within herself. She called me a half-elf, which I refuted. But given further thought . . . perhpas it is more true than I realized. Half-demon and half-elf . . . yet the blood of the 'ri is nearly purged. . . does that make me a tainted elf or a half-elf with a part that does not complete the other half. Such would make me incomplete, so I give the tag to my worms that I am merely a tainted elf then, but will study this further."
"On all accounts I have begun a careful study into the nature of the fiends. There must be a way to combine their brute magic and nature with my own. Such will be seen in a turn or two."
"Things will be much easier to research also, as the ones known to me as Kiva and Jareg have adam'd me a kip within their soon to be fhorged craft-hall. Such access to roughs and darks I can feel is close . . . It will aid my research greatly."
"Other bags I have met recently have also been particularly interesting. The one known as Rayenoir has me twigged for a dark she half-spilled. The rumored imortal elf blood mixed with fiend might yield enough power to keep this sodding bag from being dragged to the war when Skall reads my tag. Also, Its . . . strangely refreshing to meet another cutter from Sigil. 'ri's chance in Nessus I thought the dark on that, first tick . . . but this prime must have had it's shell cracked. Its just easier to wig-wag with certain cutters who know the dark on the great ring, and aren't clueless as a primer."
"Speaking of Primers, it seems Rhynn's taken to the cant well enough. Good to see her loosing the green one, shes turning into a regular ward chit that can spill darks easily enough. I'll train her when I can, but I'm now in Hlint so rarely . . "
"There are others whom I have come to *know* in greater dark. Abigail, the other tiefer who burned in celestia with me. It seems shes taken to the dark of the infernal tongue . . . by the ring I may have found a cutter finally who can teach me better than that addle-cove'd Nix. Hit the bricks with that chatty imp . . . but some progress was made. I'll have to ask the chit to spill what dark she knows to me; by the pits the ring continues to turn in my favor."
"A few worthy bashers; Michael, Rugo . . . And yet another clueless primer whom I'd like to styx - Lue."
"Nepp continues to provide the dark on the Drow language . . . I might develop a worm for it soon enough."
Dur'Thak chuckles, lifting a scroll outlining the methodology to convert bat guano into a flaming explosive sphere.
"Soon."
He mutters, chuckling darkly, as he carefully puts his scrolls and journals away, turning back into his pile of books.
-
Dur'Thak stood fast amongst those who had chosen to cross the Styx willingly this day. Shaft after shaft had been loosed, his body working rhythmically in each shot. Knock, pull, aim, loose, knock, pull, aim, loose. Over and over he repeated this cycle, his elven affinity for bows shining in this desperate hour. His hands were bloodied, his wrist sore, and still he knocked another shaft.
Dur'Thak had even seen the dark Broegar himself, having scryed the fell Lord as Varkha attempted a fateful assassination with a massive satchel charge. Such craftsmanship, Dur'Thak truly admired every bit of it, having made many such creations himself by plying his interest in alchemy.
But Pranzis was lost, the mouth of Broegar calmly bade everyone their leave of the fallen city. Dur'Thak, however, slipped back around to see if he could get back at Broegar himself. Such was the inner hatred, fueled by his Tanar'ri blood. Unfortunately, a fiendish sentry spotted him, or more likely sensed him. It wouldn't take long for the invisibility to fade, so Dur'Thak blitzed out of Pranzis like a berk from the Rotters.
********************
Dur'Thak charges through the Serpent Mountains, rasping heavily between his protruding fangs. He reeks of death and charred flesh. Visibly marred by many fresh and near fatal wounds. His trusted Katana bounces painfully upon the lacerations of his back.
"Run," he thinks for an instant, calling upon his fiendish resilience just to keep him alive and moving. Another hop over a stone. Dur'Thak lets out a feral hiss, trying to put the numbing pain in his ribs out of his mind. "Faster, nearly there," he thinks, continuing to push himself harder and harder. Yet another boulder blocks his path. He sprints harder, steeling himself for the pain he knows he is about to endure. Leaping over the rock Dur'Thak tumbles deftly back to his feat, nearly crying out at the excruciating pain. Sparing only a quick glance behind, Dur'Thak sees the winged fiend in pursuit.
With frightful speed, Dur'Thak hears the flap of leathery wings pass over him. Such feral grace, the grace that only a Fiend could admire. The winged Bloodwar Veteran lands directly in Dur'Thak's path, knowing that he would have no other option but to stop. She had followed him a great distance after his second incantation of invisibility had worn off. More than anything, Dur'Thak knew that she was toying with the near dead Tiefling.
The creature smiled darkly, flicking her forked tongue as Dur'Thak backpedaled to stay out of reach.
"Run, run, run, my little 'ri'kin." the fiendish woman mused "I have such uses'ssss' for once such as'ssss' you. Broegar will..."
As the fiend spoke Dur'Thak realized that he was a few paces away from the stairs down the mountain. His goal was just within reach, yet, a plane away. Hissing at the Fiendish woman, Dur'Thak quickly withdrew and smashed a ceramic ball at his feet, interrupting her mid-sentence with a loud bang and blinding flash.
Smoke, simple and effective, instantly filled the area. He knew that the Abyssal spawn would sense him easy enough, such was the curse he carried as a Planetouched. And yet, that is exactly what he wanted, her to rely upon that tingling sensation that another of her own was nearby. He leapt forward tumbling to the side of the partially surprised fiend. She used her innate powers to dispel the smoke with a great force of wind, and lunged past Dur'Thak, completely oblivious to him.
Then the woman paused, there was only an Imp before her where Dur'Thak once stood! Nix, smiled gleefully, as he had practiced this game of flip-the-fhorge before with Dur'Thak. The fiend had been tricked for just an instant. She had focused entirely on the single location and faint Abyssal taint. As Dur'Thak rushed past and Nix took his place, she was caught unaware. And that was exactly what had kept Dur'Thak alive for the greater part of his flight, using the familiar terrain to catch this Fiend unaware. Dur'Thak had lost count of how many trees had suddenly jumped in her way, winding paths reversed, and surprised Bugbears had slowed her.
Nix laughed and pointed, fading from sight and flying off quickly. The woman hissed and quickly turned with such speed that only a truely enraged fiend could muster. She glimpsed Dur'Thak, just disappearing over the edge of the cliff, as he began his downward sprint. He ran along the side of the stairs, following a rocky path never meant to be used for such a downhill endeavor. The fiend was blinded with rage, she would rip the Abyss out of that Teifling! She crushed the rocks she stood upon as she leapt after him.
Dur'Thak continued to sprint down the side of the stairs long ago engraved into the mountain side. He had done this only once, and never, ever, had he gone this fast. 'Too fast. Far too fast,' He thought to himself. In but a moment, he was no longer running, but tipping the rocks with his feet between giant strides, just to keep properly oriented in his descent.
He would need to time this perfectly. If he missed his mark, then he would fall a few thousand feet to his death. Hopefully his tainted soul would pass before the fiend could reach his mangled body. Even if it only meant that he would meet her in the Abyss first. At least he would be in control of the moment, he thought.
Dur'Thak took a deep breath, knowing that the wind was about to be knocked out of him. There it was, the outcropping, outstretched like an earthen arm, reaching towards the other mountains. Dur'Thak sprang forward, outstretching his arms, and timed his reflexes as perfectly as he could. His leap was a bit uneven, his right arm higher than it should have been. Crack! He grabbed the outcropping and swung around. He felt the bone in his right arm snap, could feel his body stretched painfully, every ache, wound, and pain magnified ten fold. He held on, knowing that he just needed to swing far enough.
Dur'Thak didn't have the strength to pull himself back together to roll into the cave he knew of. Instead of the controlled entrance he planned, his body crashed painfully into the cave wall, bouncing him inward like a broken toy. Howling in pain, he tried to stand and fell. All he could do for now was crawl, pushing mostly with only his left leg, deeper into the cave. Hopefully he could reach the cracks and twists just a few lengths away, there he could loose the Fiend for good! He heard a sharp whistle and a crack as the Fiend flew past. Apparently she had hit the outcropping. Dur'Thak smiled grimly, hissing as he pushed on.
He continued to crawl and listen. In what seemed like a lifetime, he soon heard a sickening crunch. Later, Nix landed at the cave entrance, eyes wide, staring down the sheer-face of the mountain.
"Master! The kooatg-bepoot is broken! Master? Mas..." Nix looked on, as Dur'Thak slipped into the dark realm of unconsciousness. His last thoughts, "Pranzisssss has fallen, ssssshouldn't have gone back...ssssodding primersssss..."
**********************************
Dur'Thak wakes, rolling out of his bed and to his feet groggily. The memories of his deeds during the fall of Pranzis still fresh in his mind. How long had it been now, he thought grimly. Pranzis had taken a strict new order, oddly resemblant of the Harmonium.
Carefully, Dur'Thak slid to his favored stone chair, carefully hollowed at the back to make room for his ever lashing tail. Only the faint glows from the various beakers adorning the alchemical bench and skull candle flickering casually upon a blackened alter light the room. More than enough for his fiend touched eyes to read by.
As Dur'Thak's thoughts comes into focus, he decided to spend the morning reading on the Drow transcripts that Nep'pakyo had provided. The language had not proven as difficult as one would be led to believe. Certainly far simpler to learn than Dwarvish. Or was it the combination of Dwarvish and Elvish that made this new tongue feel so familiar. Progress had been steady and effective, and already he understood more than he let on. Dur'Thak chuckled, thinking to park his ears on Nepp's next round of gossip from the deep.
Dur'Thak looks up for a moment, eying the door and recognizing the trip plate he has carefully concealed beneath the dragon rug. Smiling with a dark satisfaction, he returns his gaze to his journal.
"Its odd how the ring turns sometimes. One tick, I'd shiv the nearest primer for a stinger, next, I find myself standing with them before a host of my hated kin. I did what I could, but Pranzis fell. The troupe I was Adam'd with would have had a Hardhead's salute for their organization. We guarded the main gate, and with it, fought the main force of Blood's army."
"For a tick, I thought these clueless might split the bean and hold the invading force at bay. Hope . . . only a clueless holds to hope. Our armies were eroded from behind.”
Dur'Thak stretches, and rubs his right arm absently, a faint memory tricking him that the pain was still there.
“Clueless primers think they've a chance against the bloods of the war. But it's done, Prantz is now a new burg with a new set of guvners. Odd how this prime works.”
-
Dur'Thak rests silently, cloaked in shadows, near the great tree in Hlint. Musing to himself he thinks of a lost friend, whom he has not seen in ages, but the one primer he would have bitten the Iron for. 'One of two.' he corrects himself mentally. Speaking fluently but softly in Dwarven he sends a wayward message into the void. "Geddrin, where ever ye are lad, hope you found your brothers."
With his peace made at the spot where he met his friend, Dur'Thak walks out of Hlint. His new posistion amongst like minded individuals had given his fiendish mind something that it could understand: Darks and Scribbers of the Dead Book. How fitting he thought to now be in such a key position, that by nature did not trust anyone or anything.
Dur'Thak just laughed at it all. Perhaps in time he would make his way back to Sigil and reopen old alliances . . .
-
Dur'Thak writes rather hastily, as if something else planned is about to happen.
"Turns out that addled rounder Ozy's split the bean about as long as his bag hopping can. Put the wig-wag to him to see if he'd be willing to spill the dark on the fiend cant only to find out that even as a puppet the Yugoloths still call in their skins. He said Key might be up to the task, but I'd best root my worms on another cutter's stype. Not sure shes twigged to playing a greybearded mimir."
"Muir's an interesting chit too; remindes me of an indep crossed with a cipher. Barmy as an Athar at the spire . . . but has a good set of worms. She might be useful for a jink-stitch in a turn."
-
Dur'Thak sits down in a snow packed encampment, deep on the Barbarian
islands. His broken and worn quill barely able to scribe to the frozen
pages.
"Met a cutter named Han Wai Clawfist. Seems he's adam'd to the Red
Bear. I was able to dig a few keepers without wig-wagging; turns out
the Red Bear's not so barmy after all, just runs a black one for the
slavers. Will be good to get him skinned with the network and possibly
adam'd with Saviar. Will need to check a few rigs I've set in motion
to make certain the slavers don't catch a skeg of what I'm up to.
Jareg's got the taint, but doesn't seem as adept at the cross-trade.
Then again, he can bark the primer cant, which I've never had the
worms for."
Dur'Thak chuckles, watching his breath steam in front of him.
"So far I've gotten as many darks on the Black Rose as a wormless
Mimir. Need to find out who the berk is. A tag for every shiv, and a
shiv for every bag. Apparently the Black Rose berk's got his worms
twisted t'think that I'm not a stag turned. Guess the cutters only
gotten the cant on my upper ring runs." Dur'Thak pauses a moment,
considering his thoughts deeply, "good thing too."
"Had a long wig-wag with that blood Ozy, barmy piker. Few slivers of
cant from 'em got me more worried than a leatherhead at metal cup only
bar. Seems since Sinthar's been penned, this prime's playing shifter
to the ring. Never heard of a prime with its own ring, cant just
doesn't sit well with the rules of three. Guess this prime's a
Demi-plane . . . only thing that marks true in my worms. Cant goes
that in a tick or turn this primes going to soloth itself back to its
own ring. Perhaps its just another infinite member of the ring . . .
Key says better to be a dreamer then in the dream, I say she's addle-cove'd
for not wanting to freely travel back where our kind is strongest.
What ever darks are running by rules of three on this I'll need to find
a good gatekey to make sure I'm not forever stuck on this sodding prime."
Dur'Thak's notes trail off into a series of inscriptions citing interview
sources on members of the slavers organizations and other tidbits of
information regarding The Black Rose.
-
Dur'Thak's notes have become increasingly less legible and hasty, as if many things are moving that haste has become a grave concern.
"I've returned after a long rig deep in Dregar to discover the cross-traders and cant mongers I run with have all but turned stag on their skins. As such I've taken control. Show these berks a little Abyssal order in getting things done." Dur'Thak chuckles at the sentiment of Abyssal order, knowning full well the play on words it offers.
"The other cutters who've stuck around are good enough by me, only ever trusted one of them and that chit's solothed on us. I'll need to get the cant on that . . . If shes slipping the knot on something I'll need to know what it else, else I'll be walking the crow's mile. So many rigs to put the orbs to."
"Hunting down Abigail's greybeard has taken half a turn. I think I've worked my rigs to catch two tags. One who knows and one who is. Have yet to spill the long wig-wag with either yet, but sent a bird with my intentions. Learning the infernal cant so I can use it against my own kin and all the other fiends and blighted lighters has not been the easiest rig I ever set my cage to. After so long of self tutoring from capture leafs and stones, I've only a rudimentary understanding at best. Nix, has not proven of further use. His impish brain-box has too many rotted worms to spill the dark to me. Some cutter named Max apparently has the deep dark on this, and he wig-wags the cant well enough, but aside from a smattering of flavorful greetings we've yet to work things very far. If only I could mark a sodding greybeard to spill the dark, it would be only a short matter of time."
"I've also taken a fresh rube under my wing. Turns out a half-orc of all things wants to learn the dark on slings. He's barmy to be willing to learn from a Tiefer, but then again, I've a few extra worms than most. He parrots the primer cant worse than I do, but I can tell his worms will be sharp enough to understand me in time. And if he understands me, he'll have a much better chance of slinging on the planes knowing what I'm willing to share with him. Seems him and I share the same concept of balance between sling and shiv, but I'd tumble he's far more"
"I've taken a bit of delight in teaching him through a series of tests and worm-knots. As he figures out each rig I grant him, I offer more dark, and a few cantrip notes for him to study. Lucky berk, I even felt like buying him a spell book and writing notes for him." Dur'Thak holds up two books of rather high quality, recently treated with some alchemical concoction to be more resistant to the elements overall.
"Some part of me hopes he earns this book. Then the abyss starts barking to go styx Yastrand for taking so long to finally dig it out of the sodding crates. Barmy Scra.pper, paid him a mert bar just so he'd make up his sodding cage before I grew wings."
Dur'Thak pens one last note, the single word "Mimir" followed by what appears to be a detailed drawing from memory of a metallic skull of sorts. It would seem this only has meaning to the author.
-
Dur'Thak sits quietly in his study at The Network's headquarters enjoying the recent silence in the halls. Occasionally he cocks his head to better hear the calls of the guards in the distance, hoping that he might catch something of interest.
With a hiss he begins writing in his journal with a special ink of his own concoction.
"It would seem I am now the berk running the bag. Jareg's blitzed, Kiva's turned stag, Rhynn's not barked with me for a long tick. It would appear only a few of our numbers remain."
Dur'Thak chuckles darkly.
"So few . . . and yet now I am the leader of the cony's cage. I'd tumble that it's best I take the perch. Time to show these berks how a true ri'ling runs rigs. Well, the first tick I can. I still need an Adam with enough worms that can mark the cant. Won't do to well at the top if none of these primers can parrot my screed."
"Looks like I'm taking to the spire climb by choice."
Dur'Thak observes a short list he's created, naming guilds he should visit and potential names to enlist. Quietly he casts invisibility upon himself, resets the trap outside his private study, and slips out into the night taking care to fully lock down The Network's primary facility.
-
Dur'Thak rests quietly deep in the High Forest at a favored spot of
his. A favored spot high in a tall oak, far from everything, yet offering
a view of all below. One that he has not been to in many years.
Quietly he pulls out his journal. Half asleep from exhaustion he
writes slowly.
"I've scoured all of Dregar, with no sign of what I truly seek.
Certainly, I have fed the Abyss so much in recent ticks that even that
dark part of me feels contended, for now. Hopefully all my effort won't
lead me to the blood crows. Finding a greybeard for the lower cant has proven . . .
almost bally. Hard enough to learn it on my own, worms twist naturally
for it I'd guess, hated baatezu and all that cant, but I know my bone-box
could use a lash of polish. At least I've finally banged my
brain-cage on the dark who taught another of my kind. Shouldn't be
long even if the slinger doesn't take to Tieflings. I'll keep the name unspoken
and unscribbed, for respect of the boxed Abigail. So many tags penned to the book,
boxed and in pieces, scragged, yet this Spiv endures."
"Czukay has proven to be a very useful cutter to bang around Dregar
with. His kip reminded me of some of the Senser's rooms for the lower
spawns, and he's as barmy as a Spire God, but when it comes to scribbing
for the book I've met few better. Even if he did loose himself in the
deep. 'course his life scored me a sparkle. Hard run to skin that
razor, but, all the same."
Dur'Thak falls asleep briefly, slumped over his book. A quick glimpse of the
Abyss in his dreams jolts him back to the waking world, as it always does.
With visions of Succubus and Manes fresh in his mind, he slowy returns to
writing in his journal.
"Seems I've a way of attracting addled primers like Loth's to a bleedin-cony's
soul-bag. Kinai had some cant that hit the deep dark on my worms, seems
she has a familiar hunger as I do. Though not the same, as she flees from
nothing she can name and I hunger from within. All cant spilled, shes addled.
Seeing as she has been Adam'd with me on a number of rigs I thought it best
to give her the mimir on what's kept my brain-cage from banging off. Focus.
Just a simple matter of directing the blackness at something, wild as it may be.
I keep this up I'll be like the blood bard."
Dur'Thak chuckles, but is rather discontented with the thought.
"I offered her one of my potions made to a makeshift skin-rag for her. If she keeps
cutting at herself, won't need to wait for her to bite the iron. All the same,
I spilled cant with her for a few ticks to try and get her brain-cage to bang on
some stype. May have to bang it a few more times on the cant, if she doesn't catch.
But I'm for the mazes if I have to do it again. Rhynn had the same worm
rot a turn or two ago. Offered her one of the sodding redders that remind me of
primer razorvine back when she didn't have the sneer. Seeing as it was the last of the three
I took to catch the dark on if it can do anything with the burners and bubbelers.
Last of the first three, no fourth rules on that. Was nice to be rid of that cake.
Nothing useful for burning, blasting, or slinging, but it seems to have a power
that makes primer chits grow a worm. Just cage screed though, no real rule to
run it under. Won't score any more of those, this bags tired of mindhacking empty
cages."
"So I diced on trying to make her more effective when shes part of the march.
Key may be addeled, but at least she didn't catch the cove. Kinai could be almost
as good as a crow feeder."
"On more important cant, seems the Shiek's found out who I am. Tried to keep that
dark stitched for a long tick, letting the other cutters run the rigs. All the same,
I've got some cant now. He's twigged that I put the Tanar'ri's promise between those
in Hurm and the Red Bear. Guess where the red bear went with his fleet was the true
home of this sod. I'll need to get the dark on why Saviar and the Bear are running
a red one at each other, and more still why Saviar was twigged for one of the Red Bear's
Adams. Port Hampshire's got cross orbs and ears, so anything I do best be out of there
till I fill the quipper with screed."
"And I still need to find a rough mimir, this books almost blexed to the blinds. Perhaps
the bard has some keepers. . ."
Dur'Thak smiles softly with the thoughts or manipulating so many at once, leading to the
first truely restful sleep he's had since he left Dregar.
-
Dur'Thak rests quietly in a cave deep in the Serpent Mountains. The same cave that he had once hid in while on the run after the fall of Pranzis. The painful memories of his injuries however were not forgotten, as he winced upon seeing the rocky outcropping to the caves entrance.
Flying to the cave had certainly proven a much simpler process than trying to sprint down the side of a mountain. Dur'Thak landed softly, his wings fluttering about him almost soundlessly. The cave appeared massive now, as if it could house an army, but Dur'Thak knew that was merely an illusion. Concentrating, he released the Pixie shape he had taken, and watched as the cave transformed from an enormous cavern to an adequate chamber. Size was often a matter of perception, after all.
Finding his spellbook and journal, he settled down in the deepest and most comfortable spot of the cave that he could find. The quiet still night around him quieted the abyssal hunger and gave him the rest he had so desperately been seeking. This spot would be suitable to gather his thoughts.
Pulling out his quill, which was ground now to nothing more than a tiny broken nub, Dur'Thak begins to recount the many events that have transpired over the last few months.
"Some ticks back Rhynn flipped the Fhorge on me and dumped some primer tagged Larg on my chains. He was vining for something he parroted to be 'Guild Insurance.' I can only tumble that Rhynn was playing the barmy Mimir to that gleaming pip. I may have put the bone-box chitter to her, tagging her an alu'ri, but it seems I'm not too far Curst of the Hivewards. I'm not twigged to let more primers into my rigs, but, I'll keep my orbs parked for this bleeding cully if he survives."
"The shadow-chant's been beefing that Ireth's returned from the slavers. Seems she's a bag to keep a worm on after all. Barmy chit still owes me a drink, and I'd tumble she's got the dark on why. Guess she never knew the lenghts a tiefer would go to when they've been torqued." Dur'Thak chuckles darkly, apparently warding off some other grim thoughts. "I've stamped-and-clamped my black-run on her, so I'll not feed her to the crows any tick soon. Certainly, I must say, after I caught a skeg on what it was I sought, I almost had respect for the primer. Once a primer though, always a primer. And they say us rounder's are boon with a sneer, I say they are born with blexed orbs."
"I orbed the smoke pouring out from the slaver lands a few ticks back, so it would seem what ever rig was run over there will be casting cogs for a few ticks to come. Best that I keep the laughs under gatehouse for a tick or two while I bang around for the black stype."
"I also sought out the one *known* as Ozymandias, figured as a plane blood he might have the dark on where I could score a Mimir. Guess he's too twigged for the primer's living books, so I'll have to keep my orbs and ears parked a bit longer. Or perhaps in time I could put the teeth on the cogs for one myself. The ring will tell."
"I also took a rig with the one *known* to me as Key. Seems she has a bleeding gatekey that scored her a taste of the Iron from something *known* as the Malar Panther's. I orbed her pathing from Dalanthar down the serpent mountains, had the look of the fated on collection day she did. Seeing as I was headed to path that myself, I took up the shadows behind her. Turns out she got boxed in the River of Shadows, and she caught a skeg of me gathering Ginseng. She was twigged to have me help pull her soul from the ground, said she could take the Panther off me, she barked that she laid out the red carped. I'd not really run rigs with the chit too often, so her worms didn't seem to work the cogs like mine. She barked to pull the Panther, but how could I pull the panther with so many surrounding it? Figured I'd roll the dice and see how it worked out so I shot for the snake nearbye, knowing that all the sodding bags there would would run a black one on this bag."
"Turns out, when I run rigs with the barmy chit in the ticks to come, I best make clear on her cant. She had a good bit of worm-web that she thought I already had the dark on. Best not make that mistake twice, or I'm for the mazes. The barmy Hende almost had me jangled up there."
"I found the light in the Lady's shadow though. By luck I caught a skeg of Key's marker and took to forming a few grinners and mephits on it. The primers I was running with didn't seem to get the giggles like I did. Guess they just don't understand a good joke when they orb it."
Dur'thak hisses slightly, his happy mood dissipating.
"I caught the grinner recently for the deep dark on shifting my bag. It is . . . addictive to say the least, like all slings. Each form I take takes a piece of me, and I most of it. For a while, even the abyss took to the blinds. But, such things do not Soloth the Razorvine for long. Even with these new forms, the hunger grows, as does my concern. Every since my blitz to the Abyss . . . things have been unsettling."
"At least I've kept my worms to the rakers. Scoring the dark on the more common fiend tongue was . . . consuming. Then again, how do I compare two infinites against themselves. Hated Baatezu and Yugoloths vs. the Tanar'ri? Two infinites and a third? Bleeding sevens, the dream is always the same. It's good that they stalemate each other in the war. With dark on their chant, I'll at least be better off when I'm scragged and penned to the Abyss."
Dur'Thak sighs softly, lowering his head to stretch and calm himself.
"Always the Abyss. There are darks that crawl in my cage that I've yet to fully tumble to. And there is only one that I know of who could offer me the mimir on what I need. Shantara . . . She will need to answer to her spawnling. Perhaps I can pass through Arborea, though I will need Rhynn's assistance. It is doubtful that I would slip the knot from the abyss a second time."
Following is a short map to what appears to be a portal, indicated to be guarded by creatures of water. A list of 'gate keys' follows, and what appears to be a heavily correct map of a few locations surrounded by a forest.
"Kinai has also proven a bit more worthy a chit than I gave her orbs for. I'd tumble that she just needed a blexing fiend-spawn to tell her to find a focus. More and more ticks to I find her in my shadow. I've kept my orbs peeled on her abilities, and aside from being a bally primer, the chits turning out to be a real crow feeder. And more a surprise than I'd care to pen to the leaves."
"I've made her an Adam, but have yet to spill the full dark. In a few ticks, if her bag holds, I'll parrot out the stype. Till then, I best watch her closely. And I'll never understand why chits have to touch everything. The tails there . . . I don't need to grip their cage to *know* it. Primers."
"With her help I did score a top-shelf helm that would make even the hardheads run a green one just to catch a skeg. Best keep careful on this, I'm not twigged for more cake and cakewalks."
Dur'Thak turns a new magical helm over in his hand, examining it closely. Silently he packs away the new helm. Motioning to Nix, they both fade from sight. Dur'Thak chuckles as his body twists and changes to a new form before flying out the cave entrance after Nix.
Flying above potential prey was proving almost addictive as the magic involved.
-
A massive spider crawls about the high ceiling, apparently taking care to examine various weak spots in the structure, and patch damaged or leaking sections with acidic venom and webbing. To any observers, it would almost appears as if the spider was doing repair work. The sinister magical aura surrounding it does not pass on any feeling of comfort.
Suddenly there is a trashing and faint chirping in the distance. The massive spider suddenly freezes as if taking care to locate the source of the commotion. After a moment the creature moves across the ceiling with feral speed. Trapped in a section of fresh webbing is a frightened treebird, its wings stuck to the thick webbing. The frightened thrashing increases as the bird notices the strange arachnid moving very quickly directly towards it, mandibles waving and chittering constantly. The spider spreads out its fangs, bitting down deeply towards the bird, tearing it free of the webbing. Still tangled the bird trashes wildly, hoping to get away.
Slowly and carefully the bird is moved, held still by the mandible. Creeping towards an open window, the spider lowers itself on a thick strand of webbing. Peeking out slightly from the shadows, the spider shakes the bird loose from the webbing, releasing it uninjured through the window. Those wandering the Prantz Haft-lake district can clearly hear the high pitched chittering and flapping of a frightened bird taking off at full speed. Carefully the spider closes the window while shrouded in shadow.
A few additional hours pass, and with most of the work complete, the spider carefully climbs down from the celing along one of the walls. Waving its mandibles, the spider form slowly twists into an armored Tiefling, who pulls a bird feather free of his mouth.
Sitting down to his journals, Dur'Thak begins to scribe recent happenings.
"The shapes I have caught the mimir's-source on are proving more useful than most slings I've tumbled to. Perhaps there is a method through these mutations that I can permanently enhance myself with the dark abyss that burns within. I will keep that dark locked, as such changes will not be without a spire-climb turned cakewalk."
"The Chit's taken to playing the piano in the entrance hall. I'm not twigged for the wooden menace, but he keeps her box-stitched. I've caught a skeg of her playing on occasion while I work the ceiling in the spider-shift, but she's not orbed me. Best not, or she'll run in the lady's shadow faster than a 'ri in Nessus."
"I've not seen Czukay for a few ticks, and I'm curious how the barmy rouder is getting on. He had a usefull knack for styxing leatherheads and bleeding conys. I'd be torqued to find the swaggering berks been penned. Perhaps."
"Some addle-coved primer approached me today, apparently twigged for shiving. Didn't take long to torque me, so I motioned the sodding berk to give the skiff the laugh. He had the size, but not the worms. Never put a foaming Tiefer to your shadow. When he was within sight of no one but me, I shifted to the deep crawler while orbless. Then I sank in my shivs. I must have met a Kurtulmak, 'cause the basher held his own more than I had a keeper on. He took to screaming about a 'mantis man' running down the road to a group of others. I chased him till I caught a skeg on the other primers. I've orbed them before, but I'll not pen tags. Knowing better than to stick around, I pathed the other direction, shifting out of the bag in case I was followed. Nearly killed me doing so. Almost styx'd, I took to resting in the woods. I'm not sure how, but the berk found me. I chuckled, he chuckled, then I blex'd his cage with a sling. Two shivs later, the berk had the hardest lesson he will ever know. Never approach a tiefling near death that you just tried to styx. I dragged his body off the road and left it there to rot. Serve the bleeding prime right."
"Which reminds me. Looking back, Kinai caught a ratatosk and took to nicking herself. Something ran red in my worms, but I offered a few skin rags to hold her together. If she didn't want the Golem's worm she shouldn't have come to me. I'm not twigged for the darks of power-quippers. I can keep flesh on, but too much fiendish 'medicine' have I studied over the last turn to be friendly on the growth. Turns out I was twigged to help the chit, but was too narky to keep my worms straight on the bubbler. I must have used too much venom in the healing ichor, cause it sent her cage soupward of hopeless. Last thing I needed was the locals asking why some chit was beefing in my kip and forcing me to a deep dip. Eddy blex'd the light in her orbs with a light crack. Good thing I keep it around. She certainly earned the book for that. Knowing how her bag works I pulled a 'loth on her and got her to sign a skin when she came back next orb. Now at least she'll not be nicking herself, or listening to the dark chant from any other fiendling. Sodding primers."
"Mares came to Hempstead recently, but I didn't sense anything else. Wayward of the lowers? I doubt it . . lowers don't travel without purpose, even the addled 'ri have a good set of worms for rigs. Best I keep my orbs peeled."
"Now to put order to the mazes."
Following are detailed alchemical notes and further elaborations on a device called a Mimir. It almost appears as if a blueprint is under development.
-
A hastily written note is handed to a constantly blabering Imp, who upon seeing the note just continues to chant 'Imp'o'Gram' in an excited voice. The note reads:
Chit, given what you've tumbled too you're certainly walking in the Lady's shadow.
Keep your orbs peeled for anything out of sorts, and trust the responses of those around you. The best dark I can spill is that the skull you carry might be soul-stitched. If you feel something catching a skeg, move. And the skull, get rid of it. Immediately.
Seek Rhynn, she has many deep darks on illusions. The fingerpainter is likely just blex'd without any real slings. Shiv him right in the beater next time you see him.
Grab a few of my bombs from the chest. Best to do damage in an area to bleed out the prime-berk.
A brief description follows of the methods to disable a certain magical trap on a door and chest are outlined, as well as brief instructions on usage of the alchemical bombs.
I'd suggest you doughty up, but I doubt that would peel the orbs of those who are foaming after you. Stick with Hawk and any other worthy cutter you trust. Use the portals regularly to keep the sod-bag guessing.
And one last warning chit, given the darks you've spilled. Don't show me the key.
Unfortunately, the note was never delivered, as Nix, having delivered many such notes in the past, used the portal near the summoning chamber and flew in the direction of the Freelancers.
-
Another hastily written note is left behind. The slashing script seems deeper, as if written angrily.
Chit,
You should have the leafer I left with Nix. If the sodding mephit didn't get it to you, I'll have words with the bleeding Imp.
Know that you are walking a dark path that many turns ago twisted my worms. Sleep, will not be something you can take easily. Stick with those you know you could trust prior, but do not trust your orbs on them, trust your worms to their rigs.
If the deep dweller that's marked you can bind a Marilith, then you may have a blood on you laughing her spire climb.
You may wish to seek burg-shadows that give slings the laugh. No magic can penetrate the cave of the Rift to my knowledge, and there is another place twisted on this prime that Xoases slings. Hawk will know of these places. Stick with him. I will seek what darks I can, but I know nothing of this key or the mert-bashers running a black one on you.
You may wish to seek the Blood Bard, do so only with Hawk. His worms have hit the blinds enough that he can be trusted. Do not release the key.
And again, do not show me this key you speak of. Best the abyss not catch a skeg through my orbs.
-
Dur’Thak walks forward silently, positioning himself to peer over one of the many steep cliff faces in the Firesteep Mountains. Dropping to his stomach, he slides himself to view the deadly lava and movements of the firey Kobolds far below.. The molten rock, bubbling and stirring violently below stir his emotions strangely. The acrid smell, the heat, the ashen air, all entrance the Tiefling and offer a faint feeling of comfort and contentment. As with most things in Dur’Thak’s life, the feeling did not hold long. His abyssal-tainted mind quickly brought him out of the trance, knowing that to be still is to be dead. Inaction had always been a sickness he could not tolerate. On queue, the familiar paranoia and rage slowly replace the briefly peaceful contemplations. With a hiss he observes another Kobold patrol searching his faint trail. Obviously, the Kobolds were not satisfied that one of their own had accidentally fallen into a molten pit with a bit of rope and a large rock tied about the leg. Dur’Thak chuckled, finding such simple traps a pleasure to observe in action. Even as he chuckled and crept deeper into the mountains, slipping silently from stone to stone, he felt faintly disgusted with his own actions. He paused again, momentarily reflecting on his life. Hissing silently again, he chided himself wordlessly for pausing, there was no time to pay heed to such worthless thoughts.
If he were back in the Hive, such a pause would have meant his death.
Finding another precarious location, Dur’Thak quietly set a weak wedge trap to hold a boulder in place. If the Kobold’s didn’t trip the wire and pull the wedge, it would give out soon enough and send the boulder bounding down the path. Cleverly hiding his tracks with the gore of his pursuers.
Content that his path would be fatal to all but the lucky, he chanted a few verses of magic and shifted into a Pixie. How he hated the form ... but it had proven useful enough to make an exception.
Flying off quietly, he sought out the mountain peak he had visited on rare occasions. Surrounded on all sides by a sheer cliff, not much would care to venture there. It had proven to be the perfect spot a few times in the past to reflect.
Pulling out his worn old journal, Dur’Thak runs his scarred hands across the burnt leather. “A prime-century of darks” Dur’thak thought to himself. He observes the book, flipping through a few pages casually. He pauses to careful observe his maps of the outlands and his research on the Fiends and Celestials, particularly, methods to enhance the strength of their essence.
“So much cant to keep barred from the orbsssss ‘o ‘eh jinkerssss.” Dur’thak hisses to himself. Slowly, he lifts another book. Bound in a strange red and black leather, resembling poorly cured skin, the book is marked with a series of obviously Fiendish runes. Wards perhaps.
Dur’Thak speaks in tongues, watching contentedly as the book folds slowly open to the first page. “Not ‘eh Mimir’ssss rattling box, but it will ssssserve.”
[FONT="]A fresh quill, fashioned from metal to function doubly as a stiletto if need be, is dipped into a faintly glowing ink. The words fill the page with a fiery vigor, and fade to the blackened symbols of the writings of the Baatezu. Dur’Thak hisses as he does so, obviously not overly pleased.[/FONT]
“Dra jong yv dra rrord vyn dra rodaj Coodag' yk ryd dra kaog yv dra dyk kramv rryyrak Y’j ky ryryrk vyn, ry'aran, Y ror ryd jari yd’k avvyryarri. Arar yv dryk Ocikkom kko'r ror conami kdorj dy dryrg myga drai jy . . . Ky z'rr 'kamakk ynjan . . . k'nkykav'm yrmi yr krynyrk jong orj rroyryrk dra Vrynka.”
“Dra yra *Known* dy za ok Zarrono ky'krd oyj yr rodrryrk o va' kmaozyrk kykk. Rrord kyak drod o kornaj cyyg yv cmorg jongk 'ok . . nadnyaraj . . . ci o va' Jny'. Yd 'y'mj kaaz dra Cmykrdaj Mykrdank gakd kdydrraj yr dra jong drod dra cyyg roj caar dogar dymm yd roj caar kyra raonmi dyy myrk. Raran dn'kd o mykrdan dy ordyyr, arar o Cmyyji romy. Y kodraj 'ydr o va' ydrank dy rodrr o kgak yr dra cyyg, arar yv 'a 'ana 'onraj dy gaak y'n ynck kdydrraj vnyz yd’k maovk. Knyzank 'okda ky z'rr rrord yr drayn nykk . . .Y’z yr oknaazard 'ydr dra J'onrak drod drayn gyrj yk vyn dra zogak. Omm dra koza, 'a vy'rj o cyji yv yra yv dra jaakank, kgyrraj ci dra cmyyj rny'k, nyddyrk cao'dyv'mmi yr dra zy'rdoyrk kokd Jomordron. Ryd z'rr 'ok dy ca vy'rj vnyz dra nyd-cok, kora yrmi drod kra jyj ryd ronni dra cyyg yv jongk. Dra nyk yrmi kyd caddan 'rar dra kyjjyrk knyzak vy'rj drai kdik’j cok yv kyza cmykrdaj mykrdan. Y’ra ryd kaar ky z'rr 'okdaj avvynd yr omm zi dyrgk. . . yvv dra raoj, c'nr dra cok, orj kad dy kodryrk. Yv drai roj o naom coj cmyyj 'yngyrk drayn krojy'k . . .drai’j rora omm caar kdik’j. Y kryvdaj dy dra 'zcanr'mg vyn o dyrg dy ync ocy'd. . . orj zong drayn kodradyr cok-kyd 'ydr dra monkakd cy'mjank Y ry'mj myvd. Yv dra mykrdan’k kyyrk dy nyka, cakd ryd zoga yd’k zyc yv jykkyrk y'd vnyz dra cyddyz yv o zy'rdoyr aoki. 'okdaj dyrgk . . . Kry'mj rora z'kd jy'cma kdik’j dra kyjjyrk mykrdan.”
“Drod nyk yv ry'nka maj modan dy rodrryrk o kgak yr kmaozyrk kyk rozaj G'rmod. Ci dra 'onjk, 'a ro'krd dra cang 'ydry'd kaagyrk dra nogan. Kaazk ra’k caar n'rryrk o cmorg yra d'ykd dra yra gry'r ok Kiinor vyn o d'nr yn d'y. 'a roj dra cang, ocy'd dy kr'aaga ryz myga o kgok, drar dra kyjjyrk knyzank drod kdoiaj dykkyja d'nraj ronjraoj yr 'k. Zarrono’k kyd dra 'nyrk cangk n'rryrk ran nykk. C'rrr yv 'rrarja ronjraojk omm, ry'mjr’d rodrr o zong zyrg yv drai 'ana 'ana kyrar zycyk yr R'nkd. Y’z ryd d'ykkaj vyn Kiinor, c'd Y’z 'ydr ryz yr dryk. Rakd nyk, 'a gaak dra ronjraojk y'd. Kyjjyrk cangk. Y’j kdik draz omm yv Y ry'mj kad o'oi 'ydr yd. Drayn cnygar-kmooj-kdyni kkymmyrk cyra-cyk krynaj za o dnyk dy dra cnyrg caokd. Rakd dyza dryka knyzank dryrg drai’na kyyrk dy k'mm dra romy yr za, Y’mm ryrg draz, kdnoykrd dy dra cyyg. Y’mm ryd ky corg vyn ori karark-cy'rj kyk.”
J'n’Drog ko'kak vyn o myrk zyzard, rykkyrk jongmi dy namaoka dra orkan drod roj c'ymd 'k 'ydryr ryzkamv. Ra kdock 'ymjmi od dra kny'rj raon ryzkamv dy namaoka ryk vn'kdnodyyr.
“’Ry'nka draka jongk ona ryd dra krojy' yv o kroja 'rar n'rryrk dra 'onjk rakd dy dra Gyroy’k narard nyk. Kyza dyrgk corg, kra vyrommi kyd ran dokda yr dra krojy' kmora. Y 'onraj ran dra knyra yv k'rr o kgyr, dy koyr vnyz dra r'ykkyrk dy orydran cok yk … rykdmi. Mydr, yn makkan. Ry', kra rok dra jong yr dra cmorg kodrk. Y dnyaj, c'd kyza yjao-kydk z'kd rora dy rodrr cmak dy vyrj dra knyrran. Kra’k ary'kr 'ynzk dy gaak vnyz dra maovmakk-dnaa c'd kyzadryrk yr za … jyj ryd 'ord ran dy ky ryryrk dyy jaakmi yr dryk.” J'n’Drog rr'rgmak, “ry'nka, kra’j cong dra koza ocy'd za kyyrk vyn o jaak jyk dy dra Ocikk.”
“Y omky 'yk-'okkaj 'ydr Maa vyn o dyrg yn d'y. Yd 'ok … kyyj dy kaa ran omyra kdymm. Yd rok caar o d'nr yn d'y kyrra 'a naommi dnojaj rrord. Ry'nka, kra’k kyd za n'rryrk ryra 'onjk yv r'nkd drod kra’k ryd d'ykkaj vyn kryrk, yn arar ran cnorrr. Drar okoyr, dra rryd’k ojjmaj caiyrj dra ryra dy gaak vnyarj 'ydr o Dyavmyrk. Nrirr, Gyroy, orj ran z'rr omm rora dra koza cmak yr dra 'ynzk dy dn'kd dryk cok. Drar okoyr, ok z'rr ok Y 'onr draz yv zi ‘gyrj’ – Y’ra raran d'nraj kdok yr dryka 'ryz Y’ra vamd ona 'yndr dra rrord.”
J'n’Drog krn'kk od ryk y'r naomygodyyr, kdymm dryrgyrk zykd knyzank dy ca caiyrj dra ocymydi dy 'rjankdorj o kmorady'rraj. “Akkaryommi yra drod ord'ommi ky'krd dy gaak vnyz maonryrk drod vyarjk, arar ‘myrkk, ona ryd dy ca dn'kdaj. Knyzank z'kd morg dra kraan dy k'nryra.“
“Okoyr Y vyrj zikamv myygyrk corg dy dra knyzan’k nykk, om'oik n'mak yv vy'n orj vyrak vyn draz. Vy'rj o knaar-cyccya 'ry roj ro'krd o kgak yr o modrmi cok. Ra jyjr’d kkymm orj o va' yv 'k vy'rj y'd drod dra kyk roza vnyz dra rora raon Rmyrd. Rana’k dra jyramakk zyzyn, dnorgk ry'mj ca vy'rj yv kyza myzkyrk cang, kykkycmi r'zor, maojyrk y'd yv dra rora. Yrkyja rydryrk ry'mj ca raonj. C'd dra kyjjyrk knyzak z'kd roj dy ky rodrr o kgak yv 'rod 'y'mj ryd rrorka, maoryrk dra zyryrk dy kymydr yn kad kdik’j. Ry'nka Y ror’d doga dy dra cmyrjk yr o ‘ny’k rrorra yr Rakk'kk. Ky Y kodraj ovdan dra myzkan, 'ryma dra ydran knyzak kyd kaani yr o rora.”
“My, orj dra dyavmyrk ro'krd o kgak yv dra cang n'rryrk dra nykk 'ryma dra knyza-kyjk jnorg dra knoym-jongk. Kanra draz nykrd. Yv iy' 'ord dy r'rd jongk, mykdar dy o ‘ny’kko'r. Yd’k o kyvd yv dra r'nka. Ry'nka 'ok zi y'r vo'md modan vyn dryrgyrk draz rokocma yv nykkyrk vyn oridryrk. Y gakd or aia yr dra kmyrkan, orj 'rar dra knyza kyjk kry'aj 'k drai 'ard rongi yr dra kmyrkk. Ry'mj rora kdik’j draz omm okoyr! Kdorjyrk ci o rora, rakd dy o ky'anv'm kmyrkan, orj vyrkankoyrdyrk dra 'ryma dyza. Knaod 'oi dy rodrr o zong .. commi kyjk. Rakd dyrg Y’mm z'kd 'yk-'ok 'ydr dra kmyrkan ci zikamv. Kaazk ra’k dogar dy ca o kryvdan. Zykrd rora o 'oi dy rodrr kyza jongk vnyz ryz vyn zi y'r nakaonrr. Myygk myga dra kyj zykrd ca ocma dy ramk za cnyrk vyndr dra cmyyj yr o ryrdnymmaj zorran, yrra ra kdnoykrdark ryk kmyrkk.”
“Mokd rrord yv omm .. Gyroy zoi rora ro'krd o kgak yr 'ri Y’ra gakd ran od kryr’k markdr. K'akk kra ro'krd rrord vnyz dra yra gry'r ok Ocyynr drod dra kmorak ona rrorkyrk, jykokkaonyrk. Y’ra gry'r vyn o d'nr yn d'y ry'. Arani kyrra dra yra gry'r ok Kyrdron 'ok karraj. ‘ry'nka Y 'y'mjr’d damm ran. Ry naokyr dy vymm ran cnoyr-roka 'ydr dra 'yndrmakk jongk yr dryk dy'rraj-yra. Ry' drana’k ry ryjyrk yd.”
“Y ror yrmi d'zcma drod kra’mm rora 'ynzk ary'kr dy 'rjankdorj 'ri Y’z ky rongi yr drod jong. 'ri Y gakd kdok yr ran. Y’ra yrmi gakd rmyka 'ydr o va' knyzak, ror’d kdorj draz zykd dyrgk. Dra cmakyrk kzamm orj ojjma-ryra’j 'ynzk. Kra kry'mj rora dra roka dy cyrj dra 'ynzk dy.”
“Ry' Nrirr rok za rokakdn'rg ok o knyzan. Y dry'krd kra roj dra kraan zyna dror zykd. Yv yrmi Kajjnyr 'ana kdymm kodryrk ocy'd ra’j ca ocma dy zoga rnikdom yv myzcy yr omm dryk krnaaj.”
J'n’Drog rykkak orknymi, orj cakyrk dy kyzkmi ky'n ryzkamv yrdy ryk nakaonrr. Ky von o'oi 'ydr ry jykdnordyyrk, ra 'y'mj rora o caddan rrorra yv ryzyrk dy danzk 'ydr ry' dy arrorra ryzkamv. Dnorkz'dodyyr ra dry'krd, zykrd ca o kmo'kycma zaork kyrar 'rod ra ko' narardmi 'ydr dra Gycymjk orj Kycmyrk.
// Translation from Infernal:
“The dark of the chant for the hated Baatezu is not the peak
of the top shelf choices I’d go vining for, however, I can not deny it’s
efficiency. Even if this Abyssal spawn can barely stand to think like they do .
. . So much useless order . . . purposeful only in scoring dark and chaining
the Fhorge.”
“The one *Known* to me as Jennara sought aid in catching a few gleaming pips. Chant goes that a sacred book of black darks was . . retrieved . . . by a few Drow. It would seem the Blighted Lighters kept stitched on the dark that the book had been taken till it had been gone nearly too long. Never trust a lighter to action, even a Bloody halo. I pathed with a few others to catch a skeg on the book, even if we were warned to keep our orbs stitched from it’s leafs. Primers waste so much chant on their rigs . . .I’m in agreement with the Dwarves that their kind is for the mazes. All the same, we found a body of one of the deepers, skinned by the blood crows, rotting beautifully in the mountains past Dalanthar. Not much was to be found from the rot-bag, save only that she did not carry the book of darks. The rig only got better when the sodding primes found they styx’d bag of some blighted lighter. I’ve not seen so much wasted effort in all my ticks. . . off the head, burn the bag, and get to pathing. If they had a real bad blood working their shadows . . .they’d have all been styx’d. I shifted to the Umberhulk for a tick to orb about. . . and mark their pathetic bag-pit with the largest boulders I could lift. If the lighter’s going to rise, best not make it’s job of digging out from the bottom of a mountain easy. Wasted ticks . . . Should have just double styx’d the sodding lighter.”
“That rig of course led later to catching a skeg on gleaming pip named Kuhlat. By the wards, we caught the berk without seeking the raker. Seems he’s been running a black one twixt the one known as Pyyran for a turn or two. We had the berk, about to squeeze him like a skag, then the sodding primers that stayed topside turned hardhead on us. Jennara’s got the wrong berks running her rigs. Bunch of unhende hardheads all, couldn’t catch a jark jink if they were were given mibix in Curst. I’m not twigged for Pyyran, but I’m with him on this. Next rig, we keep the hardheads out. Sodding berks. I’d styx them all if I could get away with it. Their broken-slaad-story spilling bone-box scored me a trip to the brick beast. Next time those primers think they’re going to pull the halo on me, I’ll nick them, straight to the book. I’ll not go back for any sevens-bound pip.”
Dur’Thak pauses for a long moment, hissing darkly to release the anger that had built up within himself. He stabs wildly at the ground near himself to release his frustration.
“’Course these darks are not the shadow of a shade when running the wards next to the Kinai’s recent rig. Some ticks back, she finally got her taste on the shadow plane. I warned her the price of such a skin, to gain from the quipping to another bag is … costly. Loth, or lesser. Now, she has the dark on the black paths. I tried, but some idea-pots just have to catch blex to find the grinner. She’s enough worms to keep from the leafless-tree but something in me … did not want her to go vining too deeply on this.” Dur’Thak chuckles, “course, she’d bark the same about me going for a deep dip to the Abyss.”
“I also wig-wagged with Lee for a tick or two. It was … good to see her alive still. It has been a turn or two since we really traded chant. Course, she’s got me running hive wards of curst that she’s not twigged for shivs, or even her branch. Then again, the chit’s addled beyond the cove to keep friend with a Tiefling. Rhynn, Kinai, and her much all have the same blex in the worms to trust this bag. Then again, as much as I warn them of my ‘kind’ – I’ve never turned stag on those whom I’ve felt are worth the chant.”
Dur’Thak shrugs at his own realization, still thinking most primers to be beyond the ability to understand a planetouched. “Especially one that actually sought to keep from learning that fiends, even ‘lings, are not to be trusted. Primers just lack the sneer to survive.“
“Again I find myself looking back to the primer’s rigs, always rules of four and fives for them. Found a green-bobbie who had caught a skeg on a lathly bag. He didn’t spill and a few of us found out that the pip came from the cave near Hlint. Here’s the diceless mimir, tracks could be found of some limping berk, possibly human, leading out of the cave. Inside nothing could be heard. But the sodding primes just had to go catch a skeg of what would not change, leaving the moving to soloth or get styx’d. Course I can’t take to the blinds on a ‘ri’s chance in Nessuss. So I pathed after the limper, while the other primes got peery in a cave.”
“Lo, and the tiefling caught a skeg of the berk running the rigs while the prime-sods drank the grail-darks. Serve them right. If you want to hunt darks, listen to a ‘ri’spawn. It’s a gift of the curse. Course was my own fault later for thinking them capable of rigging for anything. I kept an eye on the slinger, and when the prime sods showed up they went narky on the slings. Could have styx’d them all again! Standing by a cave, next to a powerful slinger, and fingerpainting the whole time. Great way to catch a mark .. bally sods. Next tick I’ll just wig-wag with the slinger by myself. Seems he’s taken to be a shifter. Might have a way to catch some darks from him for my own research. Looks like the sod might be able to help me bring forth the blood in a controlled manner, once he straightens his slings.”
“Last chant of all .. Kinai may have caught a skeg on why I’ve kept her at shiv’s length. Guess she caught chant from the one known as Abiorn that the planes are changing, disappearing. I’ve known for a turn or two now. Every since the one known as Sinthar was penned. ‘course I wouldn’t tell her. No reason to fill her brain-cage with the worthless darks on this touched-one. Now there’s no hiding it.”
“I can only tumble that she’ll have worms enough to understand why I’m so narky on that dark. Why I kept stag on her. I’ve only kept close with a few primes, can’t stand them most ticks. The blexing smell and addle-cove’d worms. She should have the cage to bind the worms to.”
“Now Rhynn has me cagestruck as a primer. I thought she had the sneer more than most. If only Geddrin were still pathing about he’d be able to make crystal of limbo on all this screed.”
Dur’Thak hisses angrily, and begins to simply pour himself into his research. So far away with no distractions, he would have a better chance of coming to terms with how to enhance himself. Transmutation he thought, might be a plausible means given what he saw recently with the Kobolds and Goblins.
-
Dur'Thak crouches low behind a scorched rock, eying his prey. The two remaining Harpies shriek and search about wildly, attempting to locate what had killed one of their own. The charred remains and burnt foliage indicate only an assault by fire. A large concentrated fire.
Having caught a faint smell of brimstone and an intangible feeling of hate, one of the Harpies ventures towards Dur'Thak's position. Darkness falls about her suddenly. She calls to her comerade as second burst of fire erupts, incenerating everything within instantly. Her call for aid is cut short.
Dur'Thak hisses and lashes his tail with a strange sense of satisfaction. Stepping out from behind the rock he releases the Abyssal darkness. The last Harpy sees only a strangely armored man. Thinking it has the upper hand begins the feathered monstrosity begins to sing. So many males had fallen to her sweet lullaby that the thought of anyone resisting it was ludicrous.
Dur'Thak played the part well, lowering his weapon and staring trancelike to the source of the song. Terrible though it was upon his ears. He walks forward slowly, observing the Harpy relax in her victory. He was close enough to smell her breath now, hot and sickly. In one swift motion followed by a burst of feathers, Dur'Thak mercilessly attacks the Harpy. Surprise and a century of familiarity with his favored weapon work a deadly art. Moments later Dur'Thak stands over the Harpy collecting the best specimen feathers he can.
Leaving behind all the treasure the creatures had gathered Dur'Thak slides into the shadows creeping off towards his next mark. Jinx was of little concern now as This was one of many incidents left in his trail of carnage. Always a creature bearing some magical property or useful essence.
Many hours of stalking later, as the sun began to fade, Dur'Thak caught a glimpse of a woman wandering the forest. An elf no less. He stood silently, watching. The black desire in him boiled, urging him to charge with his blade drawn. Dur'Thak gritted his teeth, fighting with the inner hunger that had gained considerably in strength since the fall of Blood. Afterall, what was left to be concerned for if Arborea would be forever lost. Even if he could not return, the knowledge of it's presence and his efforts to protect it at all costs had given him comfort. Above all things it had kept him sane, even after the trip to the Abyss.
Dur'Thak hissed slightly, louder than he had intended, and slinked off in the opposite direction. He did not want to bring harm to any innocents, even if they were prime-borns. A few more days of unseen travel passed, carrying him towards his next target.
All this effort was after all because of those he cared for. It was only a matter of time before the Abyss would take him, centuries perhaps, but no mater the length of time the road would have an end. Dur'Thak knew of this far too well as he spent most of his life preparing for that moment. In his twisted mind, aiding those he had come to unwittingly respect and care for would offer some comfort in the end.
All of this because Hawklen had thought of approaching the fiends for assistance. To find a way to help Kinai by damning himself. "Primers," Dur'Thak thought to himself, "'ey lack 'eh wormssss 'eeded 'eh deal 'it 'eh lowerssss." Seeking a Baatezu or an Abyssal was certainly nothing but a path for only those who wanted to loose everything and gain little. Dur'Thak knew that only one type of fiend could truely be dealt with, if any could be dealt with at all.
That was one of the many reasons he had been gathering and slaughtering so much. The thought of approaching a Loth had occurred to him, far more than he liked. But there were other methods, more cunning options still left open to him.
He could not kill Zoraje outright, for that would kill Kinai, but the mind of any fiend touched had ways of looking past the obvious.
Dur'Thak paused sadly, thinking of Geddrin and Neppak'yo. His two closest friends on the prime, one lost and the other dead. He had outlived them, as he had many others. Both in years and in luck. Of those he respected and considered a friend only a fraction remained. And he had no intentions of finding more. The thoughts of his remaining friends, the very few outside of Kinai and Hawklen made him pause longer than he had intended.
"Rules of three" Dur'Thak reminded himself, regaining his composure. He chuckled to himself as he eyed a Dark Treant alone in the distance. "'eh damed ssssaving 'eh addled." Dur'Thak eyed the tree carefully. He knew that his spells were nearly spent, that it would be much more wise to regain his spells and rest his sword arm. Dur'thak was not known for being patient, however.
Quietly he flamed his weapons with a runestone, and placed his remaining wards about himself. After completing the intricacies required for a spell of Haste, Dur'Thak charged after the blighted Treant.
Time was of the essence after all.
-
Dur'Thak remains motionless, his breath nearly still. Anyone observing him might think of him a corpse. Such was his goal. It took a very long time to train himself to sleep so motionless and it often proved less restful than he desired, if rest was in fact attainable. Many reagents had been gathered and brought back to one of his hideaways in the firey mountains. A faint shrill sound wakes him with a start. A few vials he had passed out observering are knocked over, spilling their contents to the ground. Dur'Thak hissed loudly, forgetting the sound that woke him. Hours of work had now be wasted because he was not careful. Dur'Thak pounds his fist against the hidden cave's wall in his rage. The rage and hunger had grown considerably, and Dur'Thak felt as if he was loosing control. "Focusssss" he scolded himself through gritted teeth.
As he silently seethes, he hears the shrill sound a second time. Such an oddity was too much for the paranoid Tiefling. Quickly gathering all his gear he then crept silently to the entrance of the cave. Recovering the thorny brush, Dur'Thak looked about one last time to ensure that there were no eyes observing him.
With a few magical incantations he flies off from the cave entrance. Mostly allowing the small pixie form to be blown about by the updrafts. In a few hours the spell would expire and he would be back on land.
-
"N'makkkk yv Drnaa, Mo' yv ykkykkkkydakkkk . . ." J'n'Drog z'ddank dy ryzkamv, narya'yrk o zok ra roj koyrkdogyrkmi rnaodaj o va' iaonk oky.
"Myrk rora Y caar dnokkaj yr dryk knyza. Iad Y rora kny'r zyna okond vnyz draka knyza-cynrk dror arar drai ror yzokyra. Ok Y rora om'oik kkymmaj, dra knaodakd arazi yk yra'k y'r cok. Ojjmaj-nyd-n'rryrk 'rrarja cok od drod. Vyn o d'nr Y roj vy'krd vyn ryrdnym okoyrkd dra Ocikk. Om'oik jy Y vaam yd rno'myrk 'ydryr, c'd Y roj d'zcmaj dy dra jong drod Y roj kyzary' koyraj ryrdnym."
J'n'Drog rr'rgmak, o rymmy' akknakkyyr yv ryk yrran d'nzyym.
"Yd 'y'mj kaaz ry'aran drod ok om'oik, zi 'ynzk ona zi knaodakd 'aograkk. 'ydry'd kykrd yv nad'nryrk dy dra y'dmorjk, Y vamm dy dra cmaogan'k kdik'okraj rrord. Y roj mykd zi vyr'k, orj dra Ocikk 'ok . . . yk . . . kaamyrk dra zong-zyrg yr zi roka."
"Yd yk ci dra voyrdakd m'rg yv o Doron'ny yr Rakk'k drod Y yncaj zikamv d'nryrk dy dra my'ank. O ra' vyr'k orj o dyk-kramv gaakan dy zong ry'. O rrorra."
"Y 'ymm oyj draka knyzank vyn o dyrg."
J'n'Drog rykkak orknymi, kdymm ryzyrk dy danzk 'ydr ryk y'r 'ynjk.
"Rm'amakk ok drai ona, yd yk cakd drai nazoyr kryamjaj vnyz dra morraj dn'a rrord yv dra nyrk. Knyzank z'kd jyr'd rora dra roka raajaj vyn dra kdika yv dra ranka caiyrj. Drai'j ky vyn o kkyna-rmyzc ryryrk dy naorr Kykym."
"Or 'rkaar knydardyn kanrokk. . . Dra rani k'nkyka yv dra rad'yng. Omdry'kr Y r'akdyyr zi y'r Ojoz'k kyrgrakk. Oz Y d'ykkaj dy ramk draka knyzank caro'ka Y jakyna dy jy ky? Yn oz Y z'kd vmykkyrk dra Vrynka caro'ka Y raaj dy gaak zi cmorg-'ynzk zongaj dymm Y oz vnaa."
"O jong dy 'ryrr Y 'ymm ryd aokymi d'zcma. K'na ok zyjnyrk zonrr, Y'j rodrr dra vynkd kyndom corg dy 'rana Y camyrk. Omdry'kr. . . Y rora jaryjaj dy dnoyr Rakk'k kko'rmyrkk" J'n'Drog my'ank ryk raoj kojmi vyn o zyzard, yr r'ayd ryrdazkmodyyr.
"Y'ra zongaj zi 'ynzk dy dnoyr Rakk'k kko'rmyrkk, orj dra yra yv Gyroy, dymm drai ror k'nryra dryk knyza orj caiyrj. Dry'kr . . . Y . . ."
J'n'Drog rmykak ryk cyyg, ommy'yrk dra kmy'yrk n'rak dy voja orj kdonak od yd vyn o myrk 'ryma.
Dny'cmaj, c'd kyza'rod ryrdard, ra nadynak dy ryk k'zzyryrk dy'an orj ryrdyr'ak ryk nakaonrr yr dra akkarra yv o cayrk. Dniyrk ok aran dy 'rmyrg dra kydarri cad'aar dra krikyrom orj dra ryr-krikyrom. Dra krojy'i raoj yv dra Ocikkom ry'man knordaj ci Ozonyk 'ok knyryjyrk kyza rani 'kav'm yrkykrdk.
-------------
Translation from Infernal:"Rulessss of Three, Law of oppossssitessss . . ." Dur'Thak mutters to himself, reviewing a map he had painstakingly created a few years ago.
"Long have I been trapped on this prime. Yet I have grown more apart from these prime-borns than even they can imagine. As I have always spilled, the greatest enemy is one's own bag. Addled-rot-running unhende bag at that. For a turn I had fought for control against the Abyss. Always do I feel it crawling within, but I had tumbled to the dark that I had somehow gained control."
Dur'Thak chuckles, a hollow expression of his inner turmoil.
"It would seem however that as always, my worms are my greatest weakness. Without sight of returning to the outlands, I fell to the bleaker's styxwashed chant. I had lost my focus, and the Abyss was . . . is . . . peeling the jark-jink in my cage."
"It is by the faintest luck of a Tanar'ri in Nessus that I orbed myself turning to the lowers. A new focus and a top-shelf keeper to mark now. A chance."
"I will aid these primers for a tick."
Dur'Thak hisses angrily, still coming to terms with his own words.
"Clueless as they are, it is best they remain shielded from the lanned true chant of the ring. Primers just don't have the cage needed for the stype of the verse beyond. They'd go for a spire-climb vining to reach Sigil."
"An unseen protector perhaps. . . The very purpose of the network. Although I question my own Adam's sickness. Am I twigged to help these primers because I desire to do so? Or am I just flipping the Fhorge because I need to keep my black-worms marked till I am free."
"A dark to which I will not easily tumble. Sure as modrons march, I'd catch the first portal back to where I belong. Although. . . I have decided to train Nepp's spawnlings" Dur'Thak lowers his head sadly for a moment, in queit contemplation.
"I've marked my worms to train Nepp's spawnlings, and the one of Kinai, till they can survive this prime and beyond. Though . . . I . . ."
Dur'Thak closes his book, allowing the glowing runes to fade and stares at it for a long while.
Troubled, but somewhat content, he retires to his summoning tower and continues his research on the essence of a being. Trying as ever to unlock the potency between the physical and the non-physical. The shadowy head of the Abyssal howler granted by Amaris was providing some very useful insights.
-
J'n'Drog nakdk jaak yr dra jakand k'nny'rjyrk O'jynyo. Ryk 'zcanr'mg vynz m'zcanyrk k'yvdmi drny'kr dra ryd korjk. Ok om'oik, ra zyrak caiyrj kykrd 'rjan cydr zokyr orj rod'nom ocymydi. Ovdan o myrk Dnag ra kaddmak r'yadmi caraodr o nyrg rmyvv vora. Yr dra jykdorra ra vaamk dra k'cdma rycnodyyrk drny'kr dra nyrg yv o vammy' dnoraman. Ryk ocikkom d'nraj 'zcanr'mg zyrj r'yrgmi ryrkyjank dra yrjyryj'om yr dra jykdorra ok vnyarj, vya, yn vyyj. J'n'Drog jyjr'd narykryga dra dnoraman, 'ry 'rvynd'rodami drar jyj ryd koyr dra knydardyyrk yv o vnyarj.
J'n'Drog dogak o kmy' kdak, cakyrryrk dy kdomg dra 'oi'onj yrjyryj'om, vaamyrk dra r'rkan yv dra yrkodyocma 'zcanr'mg. Dra kkamm voymk, akro'kdaj vnyz ry'nk yv zoyrdoyryrk dra kroka, z'kd ok J'n'Drog cakyrk dy yrrnaoka ryk kdomgyrk kora. Ryk rakd vyydvomm 'ok drod yv o vozymyon kyvdmi kojjaj orj raorymi 'ynr cyyd. J'n'Drog ko'kak o zyzard, kdonyrk yrdy dra jykdorra od dra dnoraman. Dra 'zcanr'mg'k vyanra r'rkan ry' nakmoraj ci J'n'Drog'k y'r Ocikkom jakynak. Vnyz r'rkan dy kyzadryrk jongan.
Ra ko'kak, kmy'mi zy'dryrk dra 'ynj "vyr'k" yran orj yran okoyr yr Ocikkom, dra yrmi 'ynj ra gry'k yr ryk 'rodyra' dyrk'a. Yrvanrom roj myrk kanraj yd'k k'nkyka, c'd yvdar ro'kaj yrmi zyna vn'kdnodyyr.
J'n'Drog rmykak ryk aiak, cnaodryrk jaakmi, drar kmokrak norjyzmi od dra oyn. Vyr'k orj jakyna najynardaj, ok om'oik ryk yrmi 'aokyr okoyrkd ryzkamv.
Kaddmyrk yrdy dra krojy'k, J'n'Drog k'mmk vyndr ryk ra' r'ymm orj zy'nrom. Dra n'rak vmokr kmykrdmi 'ydr or aanya kmy', orgry'majkyrk drayn zokdan, ok dra cyyg vymjk ykar dy dra rakd oroymocma azkdi koka.
"Y rora vy'rj kymora yr oryyjyrk dra knyzak. Jaak yr dra jakdrk yv ori'rana Y kong zi ynck vyn o dyrg. Yd 'y'mj kaaz drod zi cok karkak o rn'am d'ykd 'kyr dryka Y *know* ok o vnyarj yr kyza zorran. Y yncaj Gyroy ok Y 'ok kodryrk ocy'd, kodranyrk dra modakd kad yv akkarrak dy navyra. Y gra' ran nyk ok kyyr ok zi 'ynzk d'nraj yr ran. Ovdanomm, Y roj vmaj zi y'r ryza von makk knakonaj. Kra 'okr'd d'ykkaj vyn dra rrord, 'rod knyza yn ny'rjan 'y'mj ca. K'nknykaj Y zongaj zi 'ynzk ok Y jyj."
"Ori dyrg, kra'k kyra nyk'a yr ran rykk. Dogyrk dra yra *known* ok Ro'gmar'k k'jjar jykokkaonorra jongan dror Y'j dryrg kra 'y'mj. Yvv dy dra ry'myrk 'yrjk kra kkymmaj drod ra zykrd rora caar ryryrk vyn. Yv ra rok z'zkaj dy Korjazyry'z, drar cakd yv m'rg. Ra'mm ryd nad'nr oridryrk makk dror Kyokaj caiyrj arar dra kronk ynck yv dra vodaj. Kra rmyrkk dy ryka orj jakkoyn ok yra. Yd yk kyyj drod Y rora ryd ommy'aj zikamv dy doga dy dra kyrg-ojoz vyn ori zyna knyzank yn Y'j ca kaamaj yr dra cok myga Y 'ok 'rar Y mykd dra ydrank. Yrmi yra ykdyyr vyn dra cokk 'odrryrk o jny'ryrk kdik-k'yzzan . . . zyra yr."
"Y Ojoz'j 'ydr ran o cyd dy kaa yv kra ry'mj kdorj vyn rankamv. O va' joik yv kymard dnoram, cakd ryzkori Y'ra aran roj 'ydr ori knyza, orj 'a vy'rj y'nkamv nyydaj yr O'jynyo."
"Drod 'ok ary'kr vyn dryk cok dy d'zcma drod kra ry'mj k'nryra yr ran y'r yr kymarra. Ky Y mavd ran drana yr O'jynyo dy kaa yv kra ry'mj ry' kdorj dy 'orjan vyn o d'nr ok Y roj. Y'mm rora Ryk gaak ynck yr ran cydan dy zoga randoyr dra kko'rmyrk jyakr'd kdik ydkamv. Yv raaj ca Y'mm kaa yv kra ror ca noykaj 'ydr dra ynkroraj kko'rmyrkk yv orydran."
"'kamakk kko'ryrk ... Y'j cong drod knyzank ona rydryrk zyna dror Myz-Myz'k yv Y 'okr'd rokaj ci ky zori yv drayn gyrj."
"Y 'ymm vyrj zi 'oi yvv dryk c'nk 'rar Y rora knakonaj orj kaomaj dra mokd d'y nykk Y'ra kad rrord drod Y 'y'mj vyrykr. Dra Kyndom dy dra Ocikk orj Oncynao zoi rora mykd drayn orrryn yr dra kryvd . . . c'd Y'mm vyrj o 'oi dy cmydg corg dy dra y'dmorjk yv Y rora dy doga omm dra rrorra yv o Doron'ny yr Rakk'k."
J'n'Drog nad'nrk dy ryk nakaonrr, zongyrk o va' zyryn jykryranyak yr ry' dy rrorka yra'k krikyrom vynz kanzorardmi 'rar yrv'kaj 'ydr dra knykan akkarrak. Ryk nakaonrr 'ok von vnyz ryzkmada, c'd dra knyknakk 'ok ary'kr dy cnyrk o nona kzyma dy ryk ryjjar vora.
Translation from infernal.
Dur'Thak rests deep in the desert surrounding Audiria. His Umberhulk form lumbering swiftly through the hot sands. As always, he moves beyond sight under both magic and natural ability. After a long Trek he settles quietly beneath a rock cliff face. In the distance he feels the subtle vibrations through the rock of a fellow traveler. His abyssal turned Umberhulk mind quickly considers the individual in the distance as friend, foe, or food. Dur'Thak didn't recognize the traveler, who unfortunately then did not gain the protections of a friend.
Dur'Thak takes a slow step, beginning to stalk the wayward individual, feeling the hunger of the insatiable Umberhulk. The spell fails, exhausted from hours of maintaining the shape, just as Dur'Thak begins to increase his stalking pace. His next footfall was that of a familiar softly padded and heavily worn boot. Dur'Thak pauses a moment, staring into the distance at the traveler. The Umberhulk's fierce hunger now replaced by Dur'Thak's own Abyssal desires. From hunger to something darker.
He pauses, slowly mouthing the word "focus" over and over again in Abyssal, the only word he knows in his 'native' tongue. Infernal had long served it's purpose, but often caused only more frustration.
Dur'Thak closes his eyes, breathing deeply, then slashes randomly at the air. Focus and desire redirected, as always his only weapon against himself.
Settling into the shadows, Dur'Thak pulls forth his new quill and journal. The runes flash slightly with an eerie glow, acknowledging their master, as the book folds open to the next available empty page.
"I have found solace in avoiding the primes. Deep in the depths of anywhere I park my orbs for a tick. It would seem that my bag senses a cruel twist upon those I *know* as a friend in some manner. I orbed Kinai as I was pathing about, gathering the latest set of essences to refine. I knew her rig as soon as my worms turned on her. Afterall, I had fled my own home far less prepared. She wasn't twigged for the chant, what prime or rounder would be. Surprised I marked my worms as I did."
"Any tick, she's gone rogue on her cogs. Taking the one *known* as Hawklen's sudden disappearance darker than I'd think she would. Off to the howling winds she spilled that he might have been vining for. If he has jumped to Pandemonium, then best of luck. He'll not return anything less than Xoased beyond even the sharp orbs of the fated. She clings to hope and despair as one. It is good that I have not allowed myself to take to the sick-adam for any more primers or I'd be peeled in the bag like I was when I lost the others. Only one option for the bags watching a drowning styx-swimmer . . . move on."
"I Adam'd with her a bit to see if she could stand for herself. A few days of silent travel, best company I've ever had with any prime, and we found ourself rooted in Audiria."
"That was enough for this bag to tumble that she could survive on her own in silence. So I left her there in Audiria to see if she could now stand to wander for a turn as I had. I'll have Nix keep orbs on her biter to make certain the spawnling doesn't styx itself. If need be I'll see if she can be raised with the orphaned spawnlings of another."
"Useless spawning ... I'd bark that primers are nothing more than Lim-Lim's if I wasn't caged by so many of their kind."
"I will find my way off this burg when I have prepared and sealed the last two rigs I've set chant that I would finish. The Portal to the Abyss and Arborea may have lost their anchor in the shift . . . but I'll find a way to blitz back to the outlands if I have to take all the chance of a Tanar'ri in Nessus."
Dur'Thak returns to his research, marking a few minor discoveries in how to change one's physical form permanently when infused with the proper essences. His research was far from complete, but the progress was enough to bring a rare smile to his hidden face.
-
Dur'Thak rose slightly, peering over the edge of the cliff. Below he could see the shuffling of the Kobold minions. He had avoided them for some time in the firey mountains - content in his solitude and research. Few creatures could reach the very peaks, and even less could bore through solid rock. Dur'Thak felt glad for a moment that his Umberhulk form had additional uses besides tearing smaller creatures apart.
After all, that was the point of it. To see what additional uses lay hidden behind the surface. Dur'thak thought of this for a moment, remembering how he had survived almost completely off his summons for the last few years. Dur'Thak wasn't quite sure, but he believed he had developed a taste for Celestials - at least their dogs. Something about them was . . sweeter and intoxicating.
It was a clever way to survive. Summon an unwary creature to eat and put them down with an ice storm to also produce water.
In time Dur'Thak's research had turned inward and he found himself reflecting for many months on what he was. All of this circled around his failed attempt to return to his true home in the planes. To seek the Outlands he felt that he so loved by means of the wooded realms of his planer born Elvish kind. Only to find himself cast into the Abyss.
Slowly his question turned inward. No longer did he care for what he was, he was a type of fiend, even if the least of the lessers, and that would never change. He instead questioned who polluted who - the Elf or the Abyss. He had asked the question once before aloud to another before he was torn from his beloved and hated Arborea. He had contemplated the question many times of since. "Am I Demon or am I Elf."
Carefully scribed in Elvish on the front of his black fiendish rune laden book was a simple passage with the conclusions of his long solitude.
"It is the Elf who taints the Abyss."
Dur'Thak looked down at the Kobolds once more. Cloaking himself in invisibility he began the slow descent back to the cities. He had done this before. Always when questions lingered too deep in his mind did he come to the fiery mountains. Each time he returned more slowly and more hateful than before. But this time he returned fully at peace with what he was.
He would find a way to purge himself of his love for Arborea, of the Elf taint, of all that made him weak amongst his own 'kind.'
But first he would need to head back to his home and bathe. He never did perfect a good alchemical soap and ice storms rarely left much more than what was needed to drink.
Dur'Thak chuckled at the thought. Strangely enough the smell of a filthy Tiefling reminded him of roast lizard.
-
A warm breeze settles over him carrying the whispers of an ancient forest. His eyes are closed, but he feels a sense of safety, of home.
His eyes open slowly, adjusting to the soft light and shadow of the forest. Gone is that horrible and unnatural blazing orb in the sky. Instead, the land about him is bathed in the natural ambiance of the outer planes. Natural to him anyways. He reaches out to feel the tall grass and ferns growing everywhere. Everything feels familiar, feels safe.
But there is a constant nagging feeling, as if standing in a large patch of utopia in the middle of an unseen war. That uncomfortable feeling that walls will fall and leave everything in ruins. But that feeling passes and once again the calm whispers of the forest return.
In the distance he notices a deeper shadow, apparently cast by a great and magnificent oak. It feels inviting.
As he approaches, the gentle musical voice of an Elven woman calls out.
"Kothanos, you have returned! My dear son."
His heart races.
'Mother?' He thinks to himself as another voice speaks.
"Yes Mother! I brought the wild berries you asked for, and the clay for the hum-ono-clueless."
The mother laughs softly.
He lower his head, sad and angry. The ambient light about the forest fades slightly. As it does he remembers what it is that he hears. Memories. Everything is an echo of things that once were. As he remembers he hears a sinister voice call, as if commanding from somewhere deeper in the dense foliage and ancient trees.
"Focusssss."
He cringes at the sound, even as the light to the forest returns a bit brighter than before. 'Another memory perhaps? From how long ago,' he wonders.
A cacophony of dark whispers races over him, tearing at his feeling of safety, casting doubt and rage upon him, sinking the land around him into a deep darkness. The whispers claw at him like venomous knives, but there is no pain.
"Focusssss!" He hears the sinister voice call again, commanding the whispers to recede. The light again returns to the forest, the song of the warm breeze carrying the ancient thoughts of the trees returns.
The whispers seemed to have a direction though. As if they came at him and retreated from some darker place still. Steeling himself, he follows where he felt that the dark whispers came from. 'Answers perhaps?' He thinks to himself.
Soon he finds a young elven boy, apparently holding a large lizard. The young boy looks up and smiles at him. His eyes are strange though, a deep red, and seem to hold a dark intelligence to them.
"You've come?" The elven boy asks, smirking and showing what appears to be little fangs.
It is then that he notices that the boy seems entrapped by a great many brambles and roots. As if the forest is surrounding and protecting the boy. No, not protecting. Many of the roots that seem to have been near the boy the longest have withered. The forest is holding the boy hostage.
"So, why are you here?" the boy asks innocently, as he continues to pet the lizard.
He remains silent.
"You know, mother told me to keep this safe. Told us, I think." as the boy points to the forest surrounding him. Just then he releases the lizard. But, it is not a lizard. It is attached to the boy. A leathery tail, attached to the elven boy.
"She taught us to focus remember? So why are you here?" the boy asks again, venom thick in his voice and the innocent look in his eyes disappearing.
"Goblin got your tongue? Abishii got your tongue?" The boy pauses. "No, the Abyss has your tongue." He lowers his head and plays with the black branches at his feet.
"You know, I can never reach them? The trees over there. They hold me in place, yet I can never touch them. Always black, always withered." The boys head remains lowered, obviously sad and alone. He whimpers, "I haven't even done anything wrong yet and the council planned to send us away."
"Mother does not think that Kothanos still lives, yet she knows that we still endure. Because it still exists." The boy does not raise his head.
In the distance, another memory calls out, the sinister voice, speaking in the harsh tongue of the Baatezu. "GET AWAY FROM HER!" The voice is carried on a powerful blast of scorching wind and blackness, ringing with the sound of a powerful blade, but eventually passes.
"Will you take the echos away? Let me go?" The boy asks, pleadingly, lifting his head.
He thinks that releasing the boy is the wrong thing to do. The red eyes seem to hold some deep Abyss to them. Yes, releasing the boy would be wrong.
"Focus." Is heard over the forest once again followed by the soft crying whisper of a young woman and the sickening crack of chitin, "Dur'thak, no. . ."
The forest seems to grow angry, and tall. The brambles lash at the boy to bind him in place. He does not scream. The woman continues to speak, but her voice fades in the distance. The last sound seems to be skeletal feet.
"He did this to us you know?" the boy says, lashing his tail around in what appears to be a pointing gesture. "Can't allow one of his kin to live in weakness."
"I am tired." The boy says, changing subjects again. His eyes now blue as the clearest sky. His tail and fangs are gone, but darkness crawls over him. "Please let me rest, will you end this? I am tired."
"Yesssss." he says. The horrific voice again!
No. It is his voice.
He reaches for a blade, he feels daggers in his hand. He raises his hand to see. Not daggers. A talon, made of a darkness that stands out against the shadows.
"It isssss the elf who taintssss the Abyssss." He says.
"It is the Abyss who finally released the boy," the elven boy responds.
"Ressssst now, Kothanosssss, and be no more" he says. The darkness on the boy recedes, like a gate opening to expose a heart.
"I forgive you." The elven boy says. He winks with a final comment. "Don't let mother know, she'll be mad."
The talon falls and darkness and fire spread, consuming the forest.
Where the boy once stood, shackled in brambles and bound in darkness, now exists a tree as perfect as Arborea could create. A small patch of perfection, bathed in light.
However, the forrest around him has changed. The ambient light is gone, replaced by dancing fires, withered trees, and towering razorvine. A horrific forest befitting only fiends.
For him a road appears, leading away from the magnificent tree, and deeper into the darkness. The road seems to descend more than anything, apparently to what appears to be a black bastion in the distance. It is long, but he feels like a walk.
It is then that Dur'Thak awakes to a chattering imp.
"Master, Nix brings a note! No stink primer-chit, for you." Nix starts to open the letter to give to Dur'Thak, but he is wise to Nix already, knows that the impetuous imp already read the note. He waits patiently in the darkness for Nix to finish his acting.
Dur'Thak sits up to read the note, rolling partially out of his bed.
"Master and Nix go find Seras today, yes? Nix miss Noonee-Manoom."
Dur'Thak does't seem to take notice, lost in thought as he reads.
-
Dur'Thak sits alone in his summoning tower, observing Kinai's home like a shadowy guardian. He rarely faced that direction, as he found the setting sun of the prime to be rather irritating. The whole thought of a planet rotating around a blazing orb in an empty vastness just never felt natural to him.
Kinai's house had been rather empty of late though. Except for a few visitors which he initially thought to be thieves. In preparing his spells for combat he realized they were simply visitors to an empty shell of a home. He had so wanted them to be thieves, to unleash his wrath on them as he had a burgler in the past. Not that the once home of Hawklen and Kinai really needed protection. Dur'Thak just needed a focus to direct his ever present rage.
"Focusss" Dur'Thak spoke to himself, trying to find purpose in the word. He mouthed it once more soundlessly as he recalled a large boulder by a lake, when he first taught Kinai how to keep her "wormssss caged in 'eh brain cage, 'ere 'eh barmiessss can't blex yer rigssss." He knew how lost she had been and taught her to hold herself together when it felt like something was trying to tear oneself apart from the inside.
"Waurzi'th" he said in Dwarven, pausing a long while to remember his lost friend Geddrin. He remembered only camaraderie and a strange feeling of acceptance. As if appearances did not matter as much as hard work and the amount of Goblins and Giants that could be skewered in a good night of battle, followed by a round of gorging on smoked meats and thick bitter ale.
"Oestyla" he said again in drow continuing to search for the meaning the word once held. He spent a moment thinking of Neppak'yo's grave, and the blood-lust he hungered with for some time after realizing that the word Neppak'yo would soon be read by Skall. Many dead things were "re-penned back to the dusssstiesss" in the years it took for him to calm.
"Oenyyla" he said in elven, strangely thinking of Anna'lee and the sense of confusion he felt when he first arrived on the prime material. He tried to recall when he first ventured with her to slay a rat-man in the Hlint sewers, but the deed meant little to him. If she hadn't reminded him long ago he would have forgotten entirely. He barked orders to her and the others to take control of the hunting party. After all, what would the primes know of deep and shadows.
Dur'Thak paused a moment, then spoke aloud in the dark tongue of the Baatezu.
"Vyr'k" he said. No, the Baatezuen meaning went much further and deeper than what the simple translation offered. There was a feeling of revulsion, of being forced by a some power he could not resist, like when the Dragon named Ozlo summoned him. He recalled thinking that he had blitzed a portal, but realized he had been running down a street that was not bound on all sides. Such was the wisdom of a young Tiefling surviving in Sigil. His thoughts slowly turned to rage as his Abyssal nature fought against the order the Baatezu language was formed from. As it did he though of the Blood Bard, as he had called Ozymandias, and his missing friend Rhynn. The first person he had really ever 'befriended.' He thought of how angry and jealous he was of the two. Of the knowledge Ozymandias had that he desired.
Dur'Thak chuckled in grim satisfaction. One of the most powerful persons known to the prime, was not a primer. The thought only served to re-enforce his belief that primers would always be as the name implies, clueless.
However, the satisfaction was short lived as he realized that his closest friends were gone, dead, or missing.
It took a moment to refocus, but he brought his sight back to Kinai's empty home. It was then that he began to feel regret for what he had done.
It was hard for him to accept what he was, but his last trip out to the fiery mountains let him look deep into the Abyss that tainted him. He knew what plans had formed in his mind and did not want to risk his last friend in his paranoid conflagrations.
He had to hurt Kinai so that she would no longer care for him as much, sever that bond somewhat so that if it came to it she would not feel regret. It wasn't that hard to do, he just had to let his Abyssal mind run rampant with words and minor illusions. It was strange to watch the cantrips display his own memories and twisted visages of Sigil. It did not even appear that he had started to push her away. At least not until she tackled him to the ground.
Dur'Thak rubbed his jaw and remembered the pain in his back. For such a small frame, she was stronger than most Giants. Aside from the pain, he remembered how hard it was to resist his own paranoid nature and not pull his blade on her.
But it was done. He had set her free of her affliction for him, had erected enough of a wall between them that there would be no regret.
And now she was apparently gone.
"Rulesss of Three" Dur'Thak said absently, turning away from Kinai's home to darken the windows.
He had preparations to make and no time to spend on weakness, and learning the Abyssal tongue will take time and perseverance.
-
Dur'Thak sits silently in the tree tops of an Elven city on Voltrex. Throughout the trees birds chirp and animals skitter about, except where he resides. His presence has created a tiny void in the expansive forests. Whether it is his Abyssal taint or his obvious signs of agitation, he has not been able to determine. But even the most curious of animals seem to give him the distance potential prey might to a foreign predator.
The ever present calm surrounding the Tower of Nature is a wondrous thing to behold and even more so to feel. However, it grates on every nerve and sense of self preservation the addled Tiefling has come to live by over his many years. Such complacence can only lead to destruction. After all, to survive one must always be on guard - enemies lurk everywhere, especially from within one's own self. In moments of peace one must be even more aware and prepared. Afterall, so many allowed themselves to succumb to the illusion of safety. If any knew of their presence or purpose a fight would have meant only slaughter.
Primers just never understand.
Dur'Thak writes cryptically in the Infernal language, obviously concerned if he is being observed.
"I find myself where I thought that I would never be again; In the shadow of the Elves and their Councils. Though I come here by the will of my own cage and bag and not because of the barmy birdcage I fled.
I had considered that perhaps the many turns have had my worms hit the blinds, so I listened to catch the true cant spilled from the bone-box of a top-shelf blood.
And I remain correct.
A simple statement put all my worms counting portals to the styx. "We know what is best." Niasa, Council of Elders, Orders of the Fallen Tree, rising sapling, and sprinting rabbit - no matter the name the thought factions take they remain the same. Planer or Primer, their worms rot with the short orbs of the Hardheads.
If it wasn't for the leather-headed cages of these councils I would still be amongst the planes 'twixt I belong.
I remain deeply torqued that these primers presume to keep a piece of me. A sample, and the deep stype, have been taken."
Dur'Thak hisses darkly, retribution obviously on his mind.
"The piece of me is to be destroyed once I give this burg the laugh. Best mark the turn for a tick soon. Their limited primer cages seek to lann my lineage. What lineage does a xoased Tiefer truly carry?
Such limited worms.
I must mark that my face has been orbed, a sample taken, and my 'lineage' amongst the leafers provided. I would not pass this bit to my most trusted Adams, yet it was a . . . necessary cost. All things worthy cost more than the reward. Too bad I didn't have a tick to prepare the jark-jink on this.
I do find myself laughing in the Lady's shadow on the rig I have begun here. Of all bags, I would consider myself the least . . . willing to aid the leafers here. Though . . . there is some semblance of a kip I once kept chained too as a spawnling."
Dur'Thak looks up into the tree tops, his constant tail lashing slows until he is almost perfectly still. To any observing him it might appear as if he had slowly petrified. Were it not for his eyes slowly scanning the trees and light rays above him, he would seem almost devoid of life.
A few last cryptic lines are written before he closes his black bound book and reactivates it's protective wards.
"Arborea is gone, and I've lost the keepers on why this bag continues these rigs.
The greatest enemy is from within . . . From within the bag . . . from within . . . from within the Niasa and the Councils that bark the barrakin? Fools all be the clueless."
Dur'Thak sits motionless in the trees, a deep sadness evident in his otherwise ill-tempered nature. After a long time, Dur'Thak finally turns his attention to something carefully tucked within one of the plates of his chest armor. The remains of what would have appeared to be a very large leaf.
After a short while Dur'Thak begins his descent from the trees. He moves with an shadowy elven grace as he quietly slips down the tree to the platform below. His prickly manners return like a warrior lifting a shield to protect himself as he begins to walk the length of the platforms in contemplation. As he walks he avoids coming too closely to anyone, altering his path regularly. The stares and incredulous looks of the native Elves go un-noticed, lost in thought as he is.