Tag: drake

#Lore24 – Entry #331 – Fantasy Month IV #26 – Averting Disaster, and A Very Messy Final Ritual

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

A wealth of knowledge is, more often than not, a blessing, though in this case, I feel perhaps it was more a curse, for it turns out I was very correct in my speculations before we delved into the swamp.  Our journey into the depths was slow and fraught with dangers, from diseased trees and plants animated by the foul magics of Malvaxor, to lizardmen and other creatures of the swamps, driven mad from their diseased state, and horribly mutated so that their bodies would literally explode into a mess of diseased pus upon death.  Gresilda worked furiously to ensure we were not severely affected by these diseases, though I admit that none of us were entirely immune to feelings of great nausea and general discomfort during our trek, and all of us would begin to feel the effects of the sickness as we delved ever deeper.

Still, through our determination and no small bit of bravery, or stupidity, perhaps, that only adventurers tend to possess, we pushed deeper and deeper.  Towards the center of the swamps, the land grew thankfully firmer, and we started seeing signs of draconic ruins, which had been used by the lizardmen as their home for some time by the look of them.  Here too began to encounter the cultists of Malvaxor, diseased like their victims, only not suffering from them, rather, drawing strength from their foul god through his afflictions.

The cultists had surrounded the site of power and were absorbed in an extended ritual of infusing their god’s foulness into the standing stones as I had feared, the very essence of the god’s foulness already blighting the lands around us, its reach growing steadily wider.  Their numbers were many, and we had to resort to hit and run tactics to deal with them, but ever so slowly we whittled their numbers down until we could approach the standing stones and the leader of the cult and her closest acolytes, her body already consumed to the point of basically being a living vessel of disease itself, perhaps having become some form of undead creature.  I won’t relate the details of the battle; suffice to say we were pushed to our very limits, and very nearly met with disaster due to our weakened state, our infections growing worse seemingly at the will of Malvaxor’s priestess. 

In the end, though, we triumphed, stopping the cult and ending their ritual before it could be completed and could corrupt the standing stones.  The power of the infection, magical in nature, began to weaken almost immediately, the primal essence of the ancient stones at the heart of the swamp acting to cleanse the immediate area within their aura of Malvaxor’s influence before more slowly spreading throughout the rest of the swamp, though we would be long gone from the area before it would begin to heal.

We would rest in the center of the standing stones after cleaning up what we could of the mess, what wasn’t cleansed by the stones themselves, and would complete our final ritual the following day once we had recovered from our ordeal.  This rune appeared upon our chests, resonating with the others already upon us, signaling that we had proved our devotion and would be allowed into the ancient dragon’s vault. 

We didn’t even consider returning to Vindinium, for we were only a few days travel from the ruins in which we started our journey and were quite anxious to see what treasures lay within.  Following another day of rest, we set off, back toward the ancient temple with renewed vigor, the end of our quest in sight.

#Lore24 – Entry #330 – Fantasy Month IV #25 – A Cult Most Perverse

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

It took us just over a day and a half before we encountered any gnolls as we drove across the grassland plains towards the swamps.  For a wonder, they were not immediately hostile to us, unlike our previous encounters with the other monstrous humanoids of the region, and simply watched us from a distance at first, though I confess to feeling a certain hunger in their stares.  They kept their distance, perhaps judging our intentions as we crossed their territory.  As we came within sight of the swamps late on the third day, the gnolls finally approached us with a casual loping gait, barking and cackling in their own tongue as they approached.

Wary, though certainly curious of their behavior, we paused our advance, myself taking the lead in our greeting to them.  I knew not their language, but they knew something of the common tongue, however crude and broken it was when they spoke it.  This close, I noticed too that they seemed sickly, their fur marred by boils leaking a yellowish-green pus that, when the wind shifted, smelled quite disgusting.  Their spokesman pointed at Gresilda, crudely naming Erisaya and indicating the holy symbol upon her neck and saying “healer” in a questioning tone.  They motioned to the curious affliction I had noticed and then back in the direction they had come, the gist of their plight being that a terrible sickness had overtaken their tribe, many had died, and more were sick like them. 

Though Risai and Shassk were against the idea of aiding the gnolls, Gresilda’s goodly nature demanded that she at least examine them and see if she could determine the nature of the affliction.  Wary of spreading the sickness amongst ourselves, she took proper precautions to protect herself during her examination of the hunters, asking questions as to when it started, any strange occurrences and the like.  Through our discourse, we learned that the gnolls had first encountered it in the animals they had hunted, a few at first, then more, and through deduction, we determined that it seemed to have come from the swamps based on their descriptions of the animals and nature of its spread.  The gnolls likewise stated that they had not seen much of the lizardfolk in many days either.  Gresilda then asked about any strange travelers besides ourselves, though the gnolls were not aware of any, though one made mention that another hunter had mentioned strange chanting coming from the swamp on the last full moon, and greenish lights from deep within. 

Gresilda told the gnolls various herbs to gather, describing their appearance when the gnolls were not familiar with our names for them, told them several times how to prepare them and even made them repeat it back to her several more times.  She also told them that it would only slow the sickness and alleviate the worst of the pain, that the true source of it would need to be dealt with in the swamps, and that, Erisaya willing, we would do just that.  With that done, the gnolls sped off, barking to their companions who had stayed back, the lot of them then loping off into the plains.

It was only then that Gresilda informed us of her suspicions, that this was not a natural plague, rather a magical one, created by followers of the dark god Malvaxor.  She had dealt with such sicknesses before she had journeyed into the Wildlands, as an apprentice, and curing the malady meant dealing with the cult that created it.  Villages on the outskirts of the Empire were the most often targeted by these cults, but some outbreaks had been known to spread to the larger cities, even the capital on occasion.  Her reasoning seemed sound to me, given my historical studies that had mentioned such things. 

Though I had no proof at that time, I surmised that perhaps the standing stones we sought hidden in the depths of the swamp, may also be related to the sickness that had afflicted the gnolls.  Even as we neared the swamp, there seemed to be a growing sickness in the land itself; the animals had already become scarce, the plants pale and drooping, if not already dying.  I cannot say exactly where my inspiration came from, perhaps a combination of my long hours of study or a divinely gifted spark perhaps, but the idea suddenly formed within my brain that the centralized location of the stones, the connected nature of the various sites, and the wealth of primal energies beneath us could make for an incredibly potent and dangerous way to spread a magical disease over an exceptionally wide area quite rapidly. 

With this idea voiced, our venture into the swamp suddenly took on an entirely new purpose.  I could only hope I was wrong, and that it was simply me overthinking matters.  Regardless, Gresilda blessed us with protections against disease, and we ventured into the dank, diseased morass, hoping and praying that I was wrong.

#Lore24 – Entry #329 – Fantasy Month IV #24 – The Kerryn Village, and The Fifth Ritual

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

For the sake of our saviors and their families, I will not reveal any further details about their number nor location, suffice to say that they have a village in which they live, though I fear some enterprising individual with ill intent may be able to discern their location through what I’ve stated in my previous entry.  My party has likewise made a vow to keep the location of the village a secret, for we owe our kerryn saviors our lives, and do not wish to bring the eyes of the Emperor upon them, though I fear that may only be a matter of time, given their will to expand into the region.  Yet, we are many days travel from Vindinium, and there is yet much land in between that must be tamed first, so hope remains that these kerryn will remain free of the fate their cousins face within the Empire.

Though our saviors were worried about our coming, understandably so, they were quite friendly with us, and allowed us a few days to rest and recover amongst them, the orcs sufficiently dissuaded from further pursuit after they ventured so far our of their own territory whilst chasing us.  I possess more knowledge of them, of course, but will not reveal it here; this is recorded in my most private notes and shall not be revealed for some time yet, likely until after my death when all of my documents shall be given over to the Great Library.  Regardless, I will say that they had already known of the soldiers reclaiming the fort, having scouted that far to the east after hearing rumors of it from the handful of people they trust to trade with beyond the Wildlands.  They are resolute to remain where they are, though will be taking steps to further their security. 

The kerryn knew of the standing stones we sought, and with some guidance before we parted ways quite peacefully, we continued our journey, and within a day had located the site, nestled in a much nicer hilly region and not the taller mountains further on.  Upon completion of the ritual, gaining our fifth mark, making one on the forehead, one on either bicep, and one on either thigh, we had but one more left to attain.  Taking some time to get our bearings, I again worked to make an accurate plotting of a course that would lead us to the final standing stones.  By my reckoning, it could only be in the center of the Sherstone Morass, likely hinting at the nature of the name of the swampy region.  By my best estimate, the final standing stones were at the convergence of lines drawn from the previous sites, placing it firmly within this region, known to be inhabited primarily by carnivorous lizardmen and flora and fauna that were less than agreeable to most.

We considered returning to Vindinium to resupply, but finally decided against it, deciding instead to push forward to the Sherstone Morass through the grassy lowlands to the southeast of our position at the fifth ritual site, then continue on to Vindinium once we had completed the ritual, if needed, or to head directly to the vault.  It meant crossing gnoll territory, but seeing as we’d already angered the kobolds and orcs during our travels, and would be stepping into the domain of the lizardmen for our next stop, it would seem rather remiss of us to exclude the gnolls now, wouldn’t it?  Such is the life of an adventurer, I suppose.

And so, we set out the following morning, and I for one felt great anticipation as we neared the completion of this series of rituals, though I would be careful to temper myself and remain firmly grounded in my expectations, lest I get distracted more than I already am by these accursed devices secured to me by Lady Armenia.  I can only imagine how much worse my situation would be had the chastity devices not been enchanted to clean themselves and can only hope they’ll remain as vigilant once we enter the swamps.

#Lore24 – Entry #328 – Fantasy Month IV #23 – Hunted and Hounded

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

The problem with orcs is that, while not especially intelligent, outside of those of the Badaxe clan, they tend to breed quite quickly, and thus their numbers are exceptionally high.  Furthermore, their night vision is superior to those of a human, and even to elves, being able to see in darkness with relatively high acuity.  This, combined with a peculiar ferocity and territorial nature, makes them quite a threat to a small party of adventurers.

We were already hunted by the orcs by the time we had completed our ritual and continued to be so as we made our descent from the mountains, bearing roughly north-northwest as best we could manage.  They would rarely allow us any respite, constantly on our trail and trying to ambush us from the terrain they knew so very well.  Our magical reserves were consistently low, and Ellisar’s fireball wand was exhausted by the third day.  We were physically exhausted, as were our horses, and each step we took threatened to be our last, either from an orcish spear or arrow or axe, or one of our horses slipping on the rocky trails and sending us tumbling to our deaths.

I don’t think I’ve ever prayed to the gods quite so much as I did during that flight from the mountains; perhaps all of us did, though I can only be certain of Gresilda, for she made no attempts to hide most of her prayers when we were not trying to be quiet. 

As the days grew more strenuous, we thankfully found a route leading down out of the mountains that marked a return to the wide avenue we had followed between ritual sites to ease our travels, though this likewise meant our pursuers, riding their horse-sized wolves, could chase us more easily. 

I daresay we were on our last dregs of strength and would likely have fallen to our pursuers, wounded and exhausted, had we not ridden into a forested region near the base of the mountains and came upon a hunting party of a dozen men, who had already spotted our coming and set up an ambush for the orcs following us, pelting them from high in the trees with arrows as we rode through their ranks, even toppling some trees upon them. 

Though one would have thought our saviors to be elves, they were in fact, kerryn.

#Lore24 – Entry #327 – Fantasy Month IV #22 – Into the Mountains, and The Fourth Ritual

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

Following our reunion with the men of our party and our push toward the western mountainous region, we were suitably chastised for our admittedly stupid decision to perform our little relaxation ritual without making sure we were in fact alone, but in our defense, what were the chances we would find ourselves so close to a bandit camp, and they just happened to be scouting that particular area at that specific time?  Honestly, very good, given what I know of the nature of blessings from a goddess like Yurisaya; many accounts have I read of her blessings being quite mixed between fortune and misfortune in a most erotic way.

Still, we continued on our original course, and within a few days found ourselves ascending into the mountains.  Along the route, we encountered signs more orcs in the area, some smaller scouting parties from different tribes, which we tried to avoid, only engaging if there was no other choice, along with some wildlife which was more hostile than normal, namely some rather large wolves and even a few bears.  We found out why they were agitated soon enough when we were accosted by another drake, this one of the green-scaled variety, breathing a highly corrosive acid as it attacked us.

As we ascended and the trees became sparser, signs of the ancient draconic city were much clearer, though in a much worse condition than in other areas, being little more than piles of rubble for the most part.  Judging by the nature of the damage and local geography, I could make a rather safe assumption that there was a period of great geological upheaval in this area at some time, likely during the Great Cataclysm that reshaped much of the world.  It is honestly rather amazing that we have seen so little of its effects on the rest of the region we have explored thus far.  We found ourselves navigating through multiple narrow ravines and valleys, having to backtrack several times as paths suddenly ended or were otherwise impassable, and this likewise led us into more orcs, who were not willing to speak with us at all, insisting on a fight as we were quite obviously invaders into their territory.

By the time we had managed to find the area of the standing stones, clued in by the subtle shift in the very air around us and the activation of the accessories worn by myself and Risai, we were haggard and near exhaustion from several encounters with orcs, poor Korvalis and Shassk even more so due to their constant work to hide our trails and dissuade the orcs from following us.  The entirety of the radius of the standing stones had been raised as one, it seemed, and they still stood, unaffected by the geologic upheaval that had created the mountains long ago.  Gresilda used what magic she had left to ease the worst of our fatigue, and we hastily pushed through with the next ritual, earning our first mark upon our thighs.  As we waited anxiously for morning, hiding ourselves as best we could amongst the stones, we rested as best we could manage before setting off, hoping to evade further orc pursuit.

It was not to be.

#Lore24 – Entry #316 – Fantasy Month IV #11 – The Heroes of Vindinium and the Journey to the Ruins

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

As it happened, I was back in Vindinium when the heroes returned, sampling some of the local cooking and chatting with one of the town’s hunters about the geography around the town when the call came from one of the watchtowers that the adventuring party had been spotted coming along the road.  I hastily finished my lunch and the conversation and headed toward the westward gate which connected to the road leading deeper into the Wildlands to await their arrival.  I hoped that I wasn’t fidgeting too much, for the cage, plug, piercings had been particularly active today, and my changed anatomy was particularly sensitive and engorged inside its tiny enclosure.  How Lady Armenia expected me to perform in my expected role in surveying these ruins with these distractions remained a mystery.

The party rode through the gates without much in the way of fanfare, rather a series of friendly greetings and waves from friendly villagers and the handful of soldiers on watch duty.  They made their way quickly toward the town’s tavern, the Drunken Hog, without even pausing to clear off the dust from the road.  They had the look of seasoned adventurers about them, their gear worn but well-cared for, sporting a handful of scrapes and bruises that hadn’t yet been healed by their healer, friendly banter between themselves, that sort of thing.  I decided to give them a little time to settled down from their trip before I introduced myself.

After about half an hour, I made my way into the tavern, drawing their eyes immediately as I came inside.  The drakonae with them leaned in, whispering something to the dusk elf arcanist, who nodded affirmatively and whispered something back, and made some quick movements with his fingers, to which the purple-haired dawn elf nodded, flashing a rather hungry grin by way.  As I would come to learn, the drakonae was their scout, going by the name Shassk Darkscale, certainly an apt name given his pitch black scales.  The arcanist was Ellisar Chaeynor, dressed in common explorer’s clothes, his stark white hair tied back in a short tail, bore several charms about his person, along with a pair of wands upon his belt, as well as his staff, which, to my chagrin, was a Staff of Many Bindings.  The dawn elf, a remarkably beautiful man, whom I very nearly assumed a woman at first, had long purple hair, a lascivious smirk, and wore pants so tight that could only marvel at how he fit into them at all given the roundness of his rear and wideness of his hips (a most remarkable feature of his, I must admit); I knew at once he could be trouble, for he was not shy about his attraction toward me.  This was Korvalis Nightrunner.

The two women amongst the party were no less remarkable.  The first had given me a start when I’d first witnessed her riding into town, for she was very nearly the exact opposite of Lady Armenia.  She was a mazoku, named Gresilda Nazaria and bearing the holy symbol of Erisaya, her skin a deep blue color, hair of gold, her horns curling around the sides of her head, her eyes bright amber shade, and upon seeing her out of her armor, she tended to wear white and other brighter colors, if not so fine as what Lady Armenia wore.  The other woman came in a moment later, nearly having to duck to enter from the rear entrance from the stables, for she was well over six-feet tall and possessed of a huge, muscular build and a wild mane of fiery red hair, her tattoos indicating that she was of the barbaric tribes that roamed the northern reaches on the edges of the Empire, though she bore herself as much more civilized than her initial appearance would indicate, her speech decidedly that of a lifelong citizen of the Empire.  This was Risai Morningstar.

I introduced myself and began telling them of my reason for approaching, and they bid me to sit at their table, and we spoke for some time while they enjoyed drink and food, though I did not press them too hard on the details of the ruins they had found.  That we would save for that evening, after they had had time to rest and recover, for they had been invited to dine with Commander Asselin and Lady Armenia to discuss the coming exploration.  They seemed a little suspicious of me, understandably so, for I was indeed an outside among them, but friendly enough, though Shassk and Risai weren’t the most conversational amongst us.

I would have plenty of time to get to know them better on our journey to the ruins.  Following our discussions at dinner that night, they would resupply the following day and set out in the early morning the day after, with myself traveling with them this time.  Thankfully the night before we set out, Lady Armenia removed the accursed plug from me, even if she didn’t remove the other pieces of my “protection”.  She did give me the dildo I had both practiced my oral abilities upon and had used upon me, though, “just in case food is scarce” she said.  I was no less frustrated than I had been, of course, and would be greatly more so once I had experienced riding on horseback with my new anatomy; how men manage to do this at all is beyond me.

With my gear and equipment ready, I joined the party and we set off; the journey to the ruins would take about four days, assuming we didn’t run into any trouble.  In spite of their work so far, there were still plenty of tribals out there looking for blood, as well as a multitude of bandit groups who were still out roaming out there, many disaffected former citizens of the Empire, some supposedly former soldiers who had once fought in the Res’Taringal rebellion and went into exile, others from the elvish-held lands beyond the Wildlands and beyond.  I would learn that there were signs of cult activity in the area as well, for they had encountered at least one instance of a ritual sacrifice in the wilderness, and several people had gone missing from Vindinium.  Worse, perhaps, there was at least one party of adventurers who had come into the region and turned bandit and may be interested in the ruins as well.  No shortage of dangers to be wary of, certainly.

We would encounter a perhaps two dozen orcs, an armed raiding party, during our travels, which, thanks to Shassk’s expertise, we were able to ambush, leaving only the three or four who ran off alive.  There were other dangers along the way as well, for we encountered a pack of rather ravenous wolves, came dangerously close to some giant spiders that had found their way out of a section of woods to hunt, and even a rare fire-breathing drake that had attacked us from the skies, looking for food.  I held my own during these encounters, and though I was hardly as attuned to the surroundings as the rest of the party, I would quickly learn their ways and work with them as we went. 

A severe thunderstorm struck late on the third day, delaying our travel by a day while we waited for it to pass, but soon enough we would arrive at the site of the ruins, and my work would begin.