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Kamina
 
PostPosted: Tue, Oct 01 2019, 10:02 AM 

User avatar

DM

Joined: 05 Jul 2007
Location: Kent, England.

---

In a musky section of the Upperdark, the sound of puddles being disrupted echo in its silence as a humanoid runs through the dimly-lit cave system. A Black Dragon Disciple, haunched over forwards with large Black wings looming from her back trots with haste as she power-walks holding a bag full of precious gems. Her face half-scaled with black leathery spots, two curved horns spiraling out of her forehead, she suddenly ceases as the cave illuminates with a soft orange glow.

The sound of screaming in undercommon fills the caves with terror, bats fly overhead as the woman peeks around the corner to view what is occurring.

A Drow woman, dragged by her long hair, flails as her children scream for her safety. A massive hulking hobgoblin in impressive armour thrusts her in to an open fire, causing the screams to cease after mere seconds. "King Wolfpelt." The Disciple whispers to herself. "You've made it all the way to Nel'tyrr, L'Obsul is nearly in your reach." the mutters continued. She observes as King Wolfpelt moves towards the children as the monstrous army look on.

"CHILDREN OF THE SPIDER QUEEN." The beast booms, slowly and precisely, almost immediately ceasing the mourning cries of the young ones. "THE SINS OF YOUR PARENTS ARE NOT YOUR OWN. MY PEOPLE AND KIN HAVE BEEN KEPT AS SLAVES BY YOUR ELDERS. YOU WILL BE LEFT TO THE GODDESS YOUR PARENTS PRAY FOR. SURVIVE, AS WE HAVE DONE. L'OBSUL LIES THIRTY MILES DUE EAST OF HERE. I SUGGEST YOU GET WALKING, YOUNG ONES."

King Wolfpelt mounts the colossal black Dire Worg that had been lying in wait anticipating a sacrificed drow to chew upon, but was granted no such prize. The army disperses in to the darkness. "One more victory for the Wolfpelts." The Dragon Disciple sighs. She observes the children, at least three dozen in a pile of holding each other and mourning. By no means high born citizens of the underdark, massacred for enslaving their enemies and using them for labour. A few of the Drowlings stand up, stomaching their deep upset, they begin to collaborate with those who are able to put survival first, quick to leave those who are paralyzed with fear and mourning behind. They begin to walk towards the Dragon Disciple, who promptly switches sides of the cave. She watches the small party of young Drow march through the way she came, a way in which she narrowly avoided many of the underdark's horrors leading to L'Obsul.

"It's the better choice." Her usual monologuing continues, before looking at those still in the village. "They have died far too close to Vazurim's lair, the dead will rise in hours."

She moves past the village, putting a hefty obsidian keystone in to a hidden rock. "It's not your problem." She says to herself, with a pitiful look upon her face. "It's how it is down here. The Wolfpelts occupy the Archdruidess' attention, less cast upon us." She looks back, the Drowlings completely out of her sight now. "The price of Drow children is small to ensure we are not disturbed." Before disappearing in to a small alcove that appeared at the key's turning, which promptly closed itself upon her entering.




---

_________________
"Operating in the border between light and darkness, shadowdancers
are nimble artists of deception. They are mysterious and
unknown, never completely trusted but always inducing wonder
when met"

-Dungeon Master's Guide 3.5e.


 
      
Kamina
 
PostPosted: Tue, Oct 08 2019, 2:45 AM 

User avatar

DM

Joined: 05 Jul 2007
Location: Kent, England.

---

Above the ground daylight broke, though in the depths of the caverns beneath Chalkcliff, the Black Dragon Disciple nears the end of her candlelit inscribing. Around her, the murkiness of the moss-covered stone glows eerily amidst the small, cluttered study. Her thoughts are abruptly ended, upon a slow series of thuds against her darkwood door. As she opens it, the grim figure of a rotting undead drow stares at her.

"You have been requested to the Phylactery chamber." It snarls, the voice of its master leaving its barely functioning mouth.

The Disciple doesn't flinch, or even acknowledge the words that are spoken. The undead lingers for a minute, before turning off to the darkness. "Why?" She thought to herself. "I have not been there in years, has someone disturbed him I wonder?".





Some time passes as she navigates the ruins. They're too big for its rooms and too small for its hallways. She always wondered how its original occupant decided to design this place, considering they were a Dragon themselves- an ancient one at that. The thought of the long-since-dead Metallic crosses her mind, causing her to shiver and retch a bit as her activated blood rejects the idea of what a Metallic Dragon is. As her mind wonders off, her thoughts are brought straight to reality as a hulking half-Black Dragon imposes her way to her destination. He stands in the corridor with his arms folded, his grafted wings erect and intimidating, he calls out to her.

"Apprentice, you have been summoned?" He asks. His voice in itself is something she could never get used to. It flickers and ripples as he speaks. Sometimes the sight of him disgusts her. It was somewhat hard to believe that this monster was five generations older than herself.

"Indeed, teacher, I received the summons before I was set to get some respite." She replies blandly. He likes it this way. Keep it simple, factual and without emotion.

The Half-Dragon sizes her up. It's folly for her to even think about countering it, he's nearly two whole heads taller than her and even with her wings spread out, her wingspan would hardly outright his bulking torso. "Good, do not keep Father waiting. If any inkling of my blood is as strong as I am in yourself, you are destined for great favour with him."

She does not reply, but nods in earnest. He steps aside for her, eyeing her from behind as she walks on ahead, his visage disappearing in to the darkness of the ruins.






She hated this room the most.

The massive bridge that lingered after a pit she knew was not bottomless. After all, when she came to Chalkcliff to investigate her bloodline, she had no idea her origins would end up containing her here as a busy-body. Her first year was spent exclusively clearing the goblinoid corpses from the horrific falls they'd endured. She was not afraid of heights- no, that definitely wasn't it... but she was afraid what had been deposited there during her absence.

The Defence Pylons floated idly. She was curious if they were as dangerous as she'd been forewarned, though no one ever made it this far down. The final line of defence before one could reach the Phylactery room. If someone were to make it this far, crossing this bridge would just be more corpses to collect on the lower levels.

She descends down her final staircase, which leads out in a strange foyer. "Great." She thinks to herself. "They're all here."

Despite her great-great grandfather being the child of the one who dwelled beyond the gate created from the ribcage of the Ancient Copper that lived here, the ranks between himself and the owner of the glowing emerald eyes taking notice to her past the rib-gate turns to her. Four high-priests of Faluzure, very religious and very dogmatic, one of the four does not even possess a droplet of Dragon Blood in his body. "Ah young Aweynn." The rotting ringleader calls out. "You have received our summons. Vazurim has called to you for a one-to-one meeting." He smirks as he continues. "Of course, we both know one-to-ones normally entail a new addition to our undead masses."

"I'm not concerned." Aweynn replies, huffing slightly. "I know I have not performed any actions to offend the great Vazurim, nor have I remained idle to garner his wrath."

"That may be so!" Retorts the fatter one of the four. "But Vazurim's life is infinite. His own view of life now extends beyond your reach. If he sees you unfit, he will not let you live out your days."

"Whatever." She shrugs, walking past the four. "You speak for him, however my ears need his own words placed within them. If I am to be dispatched, then I shall bow down and accept it."

Aweynn goes to pull a boney lever, leading her in to the Dragon's chamber. As she walks in, the gate shuts itself behind her. Leaving the four men to observe and mutter.

"And you had doubts." Continues the fatter one, to the ringleader. "She grows in power every day. A child of Vazurim's blood, as well as his only child's. We are lucky she instigated activating her blood with us."

For a moment there is silence. The two that were already displaying their mute state look to the ringleader, who slowly and carefully takes in the words of his colleague.

"That may be so, however she has shown many Tiamatian traits about her. If Vazurim is favouring her, we should ensure we begin her grafting soon. The sooner we can unchain her from the shackles of Tiamat to serve Faluzure the better. I have my concerns though..." He trails off in to more silence, looking in to the distance as the meeting begins.









"Welcome, Aweynn. It has been a while. I have something important to discuss with her."





Aweynn, in her kneeling state, looks up at the skeletal Dragon, look is looking at her from a side-view.




"Archdruidess Neris' reinforcements are finally coming. We must begin operating the Obsidian Phylactery."







Image

_________________
"Operating in the border between light and darkness, shadowdancers
are nimble artists of deception. They are mysterious and
unknown, never completely trusted but always inducing wonder
when met"

-Dungeon Master's Guide 3.5e.


 
      
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