Shaddar’s guests seem to be slowing down as their bellies are completely filled with tasty stew, heavy ale, and fragrant wine. The less-than-courteous reaction of Jorin and Bort has spoiled their remaining appetites as well.
He mentally summons his thralls and gives them orders to assist him in showing these new minions to their quarters. This done, he turns to the hobgoblins and drow.
“Friends! I and my underlings will now show you to your rooms! Please follow us and we will discuss the future in a more private and comfortable setting,” he says grandly while gesturing to his thralls.
Shaddar informs his guests of the rules of the house. “It is vital that you not be seen during the morning and mid-afternoon hours. Do not enter the common area of the meadhall without my permission during this time. Are we clear?” Nods all around and so he dismisses them to go to their chambers.
Shaddar leads the drow men to their own rooms while his thralls escort the hobgoblins upstairs. After assuring the men that he will stop by to insure their every comfort is satisfied with their rooms he takes the drow woman up to the second floor to select some fine dresses from the stock obtained by the minotaur.
She is beyond thrilled at the selection and his gracious words. “It is just as you promised, sir!” she says joyfully.
“Of course it is,” Shaddar replies pleasantly. He escorts her back down to her room and makes sure she is content.
The drow girl has much resentment within her from being so ill-used by the humans and Shaddar is hopeful at first that she may transform into an acceptable matron for the liberated drow. But there are indications in her thoughts that she may be unsuitable; her spirit seems too broken by abuse at the hands of the humans. No matter. He will require some public figurehead among the slave races; perhaps she will be what he needs. Or it may take time for him to locate what is needed elsewhere. He is confident that he will find someone skilled and capable enough to become and remain the new Lord of the city, but easy enough for Shaddar to control and manipulate as his puppet. A delicate mixture indeed.
She walks around the room as if she is in a dream-world – delirious in her joy and hazy with wine. Shaddar has learned that her name is Evicurra Doth and unfortunately she seems too simple for the role of warrior-madien of his new drow empire. A pity. Perhaps she will prove useful in some other fashion later?
Evicurra stops spinning around and looks fearful. She speaks haltingly, “And you are… you are sure that we won’t be… punished for being here?”
“I’m sure.”
“Oh, good,” Evicurra says softly, “I don’t understand it, sir, but I’m so enjoying it!” Then she passes out onto the bed. Her tolerance for alcohol is quite low apparently. Shaddar leaves her to sleep and he moves to the next drow’s room to gently interrogate him next.
Shaddar pauses briefly outside the door to mentally review what he has pieced together from this fellow’s thoughts. All through his meal, the fellow wondered about the same things and he continues to ponder them now: “What’s the catch? What’s the trick here? This is too good – there must be some problem here. But I want the benefits being offered… I want to have this kind of life for myself – it’s even better than what the Elders have!”
Shaddar opens the door to talk to this drow. The man bows stiffly when he sees who it is and says, “Many thanks for your hospitality, sir. I am Masaxle T’tar of the stone artisans.”
Shaddar waves the fellow into a seat and sits himself. He begins his questioning, “You may address me as ‘The Boss’. I have so many questions about your people. For example: How many other drow are there?”
“I do not know,” he replies with a slight frown. “We have never had any type of census. I can tell you that there are too many for the assigned places we have to live in.” Shaddar hears his thoughts as he bitterly adds another sentence to this answer, “And too few that have their wits about them.”
Shaddar continues the conversation, pulling details out of Masaxle’s mind as well as his verbal answers. According to him, many of the drow are used for more public, or visible, tasks. They clean and repair the streets and buildings. They do quite a bit of food preparation as well (“no one wants to eat anything touched by lumpys, of course”). Ale and wine are brewed by the drow, as are all pre-cooking jobs such as butchers and millers. They are seldom allowed to sample the fruits of their labors and he is quietly bitter about it.
Masaxle himself is a sculptor who creates and maintains the statues and bas-reliefs through the city. “Like most of the drow, I also oversee the work of teams of hobgoblins so that I can focus on the work that they are unsuited for. I have five lumpys myself that carry my tools, haul stone blocks, and sweep debris away,” he explains. This very evening he has given them the night off – he is supposed to be patrolling a pre-determined area, looking for damage that needs repair.
“A pre-existing hierarchy? Superb! Half of my work is already done,” Shaddar gloats to himself. And this regimen of constant inspection and repair explains why the city seems in such excellent condition.
“And who are your leaders? You have some form of ruling council or body of drow Elders, I assume?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve not meet them – only heard tales.” His thoughts continue, “Tales of having any new idea squashed by their veto! We’ll never get anything improved for our people because the Elders are too afraid of what the Lords of the city might think! All my grand concepts – rejected!”
This thread of conversation has promise. Shaddar prods, “You seem like the kind of man who would have his own ideas. Tell me: what kinds of things would you like to do differently?”
Masaxle looks surprised at Shaddar’s perceptiveness, but nods vigorously, “Yes! I wish to create art according to my own feelings and not the rigid limitations of what the humans’ requisition. It is difficult to explain – I feel a yearning for a different style, a different feeling of line and curve than what humans seem to like. My soul strives to explore these artistic senses, but the Elders have denied my every petition. If only I could explore these feelings a bit, I know that I could capture in stone the very spirit of our race!”
Shaddar’s tentacles slowly vibrate with conviction. “Yes. This fellow has distinct promise. Ambition. Discontent. Vision, even.”
It is time to try his experiment with the brainmate. He reaches into one pocket to lay a tender hand on the artifact and tentatively requests an audience.
“What is needed, Supplanter?” the brainmate responds. It is but a weak echo of the blasting mental voice of the elder brain it was culled from.
Shaddar is a bit concerned with the less-than-complimentary title, but presses on with his request, “I have never been to a drow city or seen their art. Can you help me fill this pawn’s mind with what they look like?”
The brainmate gives a twitch under his hand and a feeling of acceptance.
Shaddar stretches out his clawed fingers toward the drow and whispers, “Do you mean artwork like this?” A stream of images travels from his mind into Masaxle’s as he touches the drow’s mind to insert them.
A sprawling underground city made of sharp angles lit with an unearthly blue light!
Fine layers of articulated leather armor, designed to hide, protect, and stifle sound!
A ceremony of worship featuring the bejeweled matron drinking from a huge, spider-shaped goblet!
The man leaps to his feet with his eyes wide and staring. His mouth parts slightly and he moans. Once the images have been placed, Shaddar lowers his hand and the drow rivets his attention back to him.
“How? How did you do that?”
“I am the Avatar of Inspiration.”
“What?”
“Your people come from a higher stock than you know. These images that I have shown to you – they exist! Created by others of your proud race that live underground! I have come to bring the splendor of your race to those of you who now live above.”
“Yes! Yes, that’s it! The lines! The flow of light and dark! The webs of power and transcendence! It speaks so powerfully to my… my dark soul!” Masaxle is almost overcome with emotion at what he has seen. At what it has revealed to him about his own nature.
Shaddar continues, his voice rising majestically, “Through you, and others like you, we will restore what has been denied your people for so long. Together will create these vast works of art and elegant cities above ground as well. I am the instrument of this great and overdue change! And I wish you to be the Chief Minister of Culture.”
Masaxle drops to one knee and bows his head and says, “I will not abuse the great trust you have given me in sharing this inspiration, oh Avatar! Gladly will I restore this art for all of my people to bask in! You have opened my eyes to the true nature of myself! I can never thank you enough – I pledge myself forever your man.” Tears drip from his face as searing and intense emotions course through his psyche.
“Yes,” Shaddar thinks with satisfaction.
The man leaps to his feet and pulls out some parchment and a small case of charcoals.
“I have not a moment to lose! Forgive me, but I must start at once to capture these images on paper so they can be shared, designed, and built! You have given me so much to think about!” He turns to a table and begins drawing fiercely.
“Of course, Masaxle. I would expect nothing less. I will leave you to it. We shall speak more tomorrow.” Shaddar stands and leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
Feeling very pleased with how that went, Shaddar walks down the hall to the room where the other newcomer drow was put.
This drow is going to require a different approach. His thoughts during dinner have focused on figuring out who Shaddar really is, why his minions follow him, and why he is making such an atypical offer to the drow. His current thoughts are very interesting, “Who does he work for? Could it be a test by the Lords of the city? All I can do is keep my eyes open and remember every detail. The Elders said that the smallest things I notice could provide them with the clues they need to know how to proceed with this disruption to our normal state of affairs. I wonder when I’ll be allowed to leave so I can report to them?”
Shaddar’s tentacles twitch with respect. Being a spy and an informer is an old and noble calling. He opens the door to the room knowing exactly what to say.
“Sir!” the drow exclaims, startled at Shaddar’s sudden entrance. “You have me gratitude for the fine meal and lavish accommodations. I am called Halvyr Zaundar and I am at your service.”
Shadder lightly presses his palms together as he speaks, “Be at ease Halvyr when I say this: I know your true reason for being here.”
“What do you mean?” A look of alarm crosses his face before he can mask it.
“Yes,” Shaddar says with concern, “I know you are not on board with these dark winds of change, but fear not! For you will understand all. I sense that you are here to discern what I truly am… Would you like to know?”
Halvyr throws his shoulders back and lifts his chin as he says, “Yes. I do.”
“I am your god! You are a long-lost, splinter group of my children.”
The unexpectedness of this declaration is written on Halvyr’s face. “What is he talking about?” he thinks wildly, “Is he mad?”
“You have been enslaved by these disgusting and pathetic humans. And this has invoked my divine wrath! The creature you see before you is my chosen vessel – a form of vengeance and retribution! I have come to fulfill the ultimate destiny of your race and to place my children at their proper station.” Shaddar sends a blast of mental power rippling across the dark elf’s brain – demanding that he believe the truth of his words with all the force of will that he has.
The results are more than even he could have hoped for. The power of his mental command rends a portion of Halvyr’s mind, burning through all of his internal defenses and core belief systems – making him less than he was before, but it is done! The elf will never deny what he has told him. The experience has changed him irrevocably into a new man.
Halvyr falls flat on the ground and prostrates himself before Shaddar. “Holy one! Allow this unworthy to thank you for the great blessing of this knowledge!”
Shaddar has heard of this consequence happening before, and he knows that it is a rare occurrence, but it couldn’t have happened at a more fortunate time. The man’s mind had a hidden flaw that caused the psychic suggestion to reform his entire personality around the demand. He has become a zealot.
Shaddar instantly capitalizes on this welcome bit of serendipity by saying, “As a true believer, you will be my messenger to my children, Halvyr. You will return to the drow still in bondage and convince them of my divine mission. Indeed! You are destined for great things as you bring all of my children into the knowledge of this truth.”
“I’m unworthy of this praise, great one! Unworthy! I do confess my sin – I was indeed sent here under false pretences. The Elders of our people sent me to spy, but I did not know your nature! Forgive me!”
“Yes, you should confess. Tell me of the wicked mission you were sent on. Tell me of the Elders.” Shaddar crosses his arms and looks sternly down at the elf that wallows on the floor before him.
“Thank you for your mercy, worshipful one! The Elders are so frightened of change! They are the keepers of all that has transpired in the past – our history is so frightening that they dare not reveal it to the rest of us! They fear that any variation in our customs or behaviors as a race will return us to the Dark Times!”
“The Dark Times?” Shaddar thinks, “Perhaps the Elders know what happened to enslave their race in this city.”
“I must met with the Elders,” Shaddar says aloud.
Halvyr gets onto his knees to look up at Shaddar with adoration and hope. “I am sure that they would be honored to be in your presence!”
“Your first task as my high priest is to bring them here. Bring them to me.”
Halvyr’s face falls. “But, masterful one, they are so old that they never leave their sanctuary. And we dare not bring them out to where the humans might see them. Surely the human’s would kill them if they knew that they lived! Have mercy on our Elders, sire!”
“Not ambulatory? They must be very old indeed… Very well! I will show mercy in this instance. I will deign to visit them in their chambers where their safety and comfort can be insured.”
Halvyr falls back to his face and mumbles his gratitude, “You are kind to all of us, divine one. I will arrange for your visit tomorrow. Unless you wish me to leave now and rouse them from their beds? They will be only too happy to prepare themselves for a visitation from your excellency!”
“That will not be necessary.”
“I am perfectly willing to do whatever you wish! Do you need broken glass eaten? I will do it! Shall I sing your praises all night? I am ready! Command me, divine one!”
“Very well. You must address me as: ‘your worshipfulness’. That will be all I require this evening. Rest now and I will allow you to take my message to the Elders tomorrow.” Shaddar walks to the door and exits the chamber.
“Thank you, your worshipfulness!” he hears from inside the room from his now-devoted follower.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 13 Chapter 15 >
Friday, November 9, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Crossover - Chapter 13
A soft tapping at the back door is barely heard. Shaddar senses the approach of eight minds long before he hears the sound and directs Loolipo to see to the door. The minotaur turns towards the sound, alert for any danger. Cutt is upstairs with Jorin and Bort, organizing and stowing the mounds of loot and coin collected from the days activities.
The kuo-toa opens the door, but the alleyway is apparently empty. She peers into the darkness, but sees nothing.
Shaddar does not need to rely on such mundane senses as mere sight. He can feel their minds and tastes the fear of those hiding in the dark at their own audacity in disturbing “a person place” – let alone entering one. This timidity will not do.
“Come in! Come in, my friends! Don’t be shy.”
Through the door steps the drow woman Shaddar met earlier in the slums, followed by two large drow males. They are all fearful of being inside a place that has obviously been forbidden to them. The drow men are active-looking types who are dressed slightly better than the threadbare dress their guide is wearing.
Seeing that no reprimand comes, but that instead Shaddar greets the dark elves warmly with open and welcoming gestures, the drow are followed by a group of hobgoblins. The three that Shaddar spoke with at the brothel are accompanied by two other males. Both of the new hobgoblins are huge brutes with massive muscles, obviously they have some very physical job that has kept them in fine shape, very unlike the weedy-looking male that was working in the brothel.
Those that Shaddar implanted with the powerful suggestion that he could do anything are a bit leery, but those who have yet to be convinced are quite nervous. The strangers are ready to bolt for the door should anyone make a sudden move or loud exclamation.
All of them look fit, if a bit underfed. Overall, Shaddar is satisfied. Toothsnatcher shifts his stance a bit and all of the newcomers are clearly surprised to find that the huge monster is alive and not some kind of illusion or statue. They eye the beast warily.
Shaddar speaks calmly, “Honored guests! I’m so glad you were able to come. Here! Sit at this table I have prepared for you. Loolipo! Bring the food out at once for my guests! Hawke, I require wine and ale! Toothsnacher, you will serve my guests their drinks!”
Loolipo bows her head in acquiescence and soon returns with bowls filled to the brim with steaming beef stew. Toothsnacher brings over the bottles of wine and a small keg of ale at Shaddar’s request.
“Sit, my friends. Enjoy! I have eaten my fill earlier, but it would rude to discuss our business before you have been fully satisfied with victuals yourselves!”
When they still hesitate, casting uncertain glances at Hawke who is scowling furiously, Shaddar offers further encouragement. “This is not a test, merely a courtesy. Your days of eating gruel are over! From now on you can eat whatever I place before you.” He chuckles in what he hopes is a friendly-sounding way as he goes on, “Don’t insult me, now! The cook has worked hard on this fine meal!”
Hawke is perplexed by the reference to gruel, but he hasn’t got any other clue that his current guests are not human. Not yet. And if Shaddar is careful he won’t for a time. Best to leave that bit of conflict for another day if it can be allowed to simmer. Besides, Hawke’s reaction to the true nature of Shaddar and his guests is something of an experiment. How will the man react when he finds out the truth? It will be a most useful test to see how the revelation will be handled by other residents of the city when and if that time comes.
One of the drow is not convinced by Shaddar’s gracious words. He screws up his courage and speaks, “On what authority do you do this?”
“On my own authority. I am a higher authority than one of you has ever imagined.”
This seems to do nothing but confuse the newcomers. Those who have already been ‘modified’ nod their heads with slight smiles. Shaddar waves the question aside with his tentacles and adds, “I’ll prove it to you – just give me time. For now, however, it is time to feast!”
The confidence of his manner combined with the savory aroma of the food and drink is enough to help them make the correct decision. They sit down. Slowly at first, they begin to sample the meal, but they quickly begin to consume the food at a rate which is a bit alarming. Clearly, they are not in the habit of eating such excellent food. Shaddar is perfectly willing to allow them to stuff themselves – they will need their strength to do his bidding. The liquor is having a fine effect as well, relaxing their fears and loosening their thoughts. That will make things so much easier later.
Shaddar hopes to teach the drow in particular about the culture that they have apparently lost. Perhaps the brainmate can be of some use in this task? Or perhaps there is something that will help in the locked scrollcase he found in his master’s pocket?
He mentally summons Loolipo. Soon she shuffles to his side. Shaddar hands the scrollcase to her and commands, “Open this for me when you can. Return it as soon as you pick the lock.” She takes the case and is already examining the intricate mechanism as she leaves the room.
Best not to depend on the faint possibility that there is a treatise on drow history in the scrollcase. No. He resolves to use the knowledge that brainmate carries combined with his own experiences to transmit as much of the information about drow culture available to him directly into the minds of the dark elves who seem to have lost it. This mental barrage combined with a subtle psychic suggestion to accept the knowledge as the glorious truth might win some of them over and transform these submissive slaves into the clever and aggressive pawns that he will require.
“The dark elves will form the elites of my army, the public face of the rebellion that I plan to foster here. They will commune with me and I will give them authority over my forces when I am not present. The hobgoblins are ideally suited to become my foot-soldiers and enforcers; certainly they must be more numerous due to their much higher reproduction rate.”
Shaddar is less concerned with the difficulties in winning over the hobgoblins. It is in their very nature to be aggressive and enjoy regimented conflict. He will merely provide an alternate outlet for the release of these natural and normal tendencies.
The 3 drow and 5 hobgoblins are certainly relishing their meal. Hawke shakes his head in anger periodically, usually after one of the hobgoblins releases a belch or loud slurp. Satisfied noises of enjoyment are nearly constant.
“Table manners of pigs,” Hawke thinks in disgust. “And the stew isn’t that good. Why, they act like they’ve never had beef stew before!”
While the food is a welcome distraction, none of his guests can stop thinking worried thoughts about their being in a place that has been forbidden to them. The hobgoblins in particular are frightened. Shaddar is quite curious about this.
“I will reeducate them, naturally, but how were these fierce warrior races so thoroughly trained or conditioned to begin with? What methods were used? Might I be able to use the technique myself to ‘handle’ the current masters of the city, I wonder?”
As he ponders these new creatures and samples their thoughts to better understand each of them he hears Jorin, Bort, and Cutt descend the stairs behind him and turns to face them.
Cutt reports, “All is accomplished as you commanded, master.”
Jorin and Bort freeze mid-step as they see Shaddar’s guests eating in the middle of the hall.
“Wh-? Wha-? What? What is this?!” sputters Jorin with an indignant look on his face.
Bort’s mouth drops open and he stares in disbelief at the feasting hobgoblins and dark elves.
“Really now! Is that any way to greet your new fellow guild members?” Shaddar admonishes jovially.
“Fellow members?” gasps Jorin in revulsion.
All of the hobgoblins and drow have stopped eating and are paying close attention to this exchange.
“Calm yourself now,” Shaddar warns, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I told you to trust me. Trust in my direction. I haven’t led you astray so far, have I?”
“But… this is unnatural,” Bort says with a shake of his head.
Clearly, they will need further convincing than simple demands for obedience.
“What is it that makes it unnatural?” Shaddar questions. “Change is very natural. I was a change for you, was I not? And has it not been a good thing? For you?”
“Well… Yes, but this…” Jorin begins hesitantly. Bort elbows his friend in the ribs and tosses his head upstairs. From their thoughts, they both are upset by this turn of events and Bort wants to discuss their response to it privately. Jorin amazingly seems to comprehend his accomplice’s unstated desire and they turn and march huffily back up towards their room.
“A problem I will need to address later,” Shaddar thinks. “How irritating. They will just have to deal with it.” Or he will deal with them…
Shaddar quickly checks Hawke’s thoughts to see if Jorin and Bort have given the game away. Luckily, the man is such a staunch racist, he can’t conceive that lumpys and palehairs would ever enter his hall.
“All his talk about how change is good… Bah! Change is not good,” the man thinks while frowning deeply, “The established order is what’s good. Everyone knows that! It keeps everything working well and everyone happy. That’s the way the Lords of the city and the Lords of the Realm put it together and that’s not going to change!”
Shaddar’s tentacles gesticulate in motions of confident certainty as he thinks, “Change is inevitable…”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 12 Chapter 14 >
The kuo-toa opens the door, but the alleyway is apparently empty. She peers into the darkness, but sees nothing.
Shaddar does not need to rely on such mundane senses as mere sight. He can feel their minds and tastes the fear of those hiding in the dark at their own audacity in disturbing “a person place” – let alone entering one. This timidity will not do.
“Come in! Come in, my friends! Don’t be shy.”
Through the door steps the drow woman Shaddar met earlier in the slums, followed by two large drow males. They are all fearful of being inside a place that has obviously been forbidden to them. The drow men are active-looking types who are dressed slightly better than the threadbare dress their guide is wearing.
Seeing that no reprimand comes, but that instead Shaddar greets the dark elves warmly with open and welcoming gestures, the drow are followed by a group of hobgoblins. The three that Shaddar spoke with at the brothel are accompanied by two other males. Both of the new hobgoblins are huge brutes with massive muscles, obviously they have some very physical job that has kept them in fine shape, very unlike the weedy-looking male that was working in the brothel.
Those that Shaddar implanted with the powerful suggestion that he could do anything are a bit leery, but those who have yet to be convinced are quite nervous. The strangers are ready to bolt for the door should anyone make a sudden move or loud exclamation.
All of them look fit, if a bit underfed. Overall, Shaddar is satisfied. Toothsnatcher shifts his stance a bit and all of the newcomers are clearly surprised to find that the huge monster is alive and not some kind of illusion or statue. They eye the beast warily.
Shaddar speaks calmly, “Honored guests! I’m so glad you were able to come. Here! Sit at this table I have prepared for you. Loolipo! Bring the food out at once for my guests! Hawke, I require wine and ale! Toothsnacher, you will serve my guests their drinks!”
Loolipo bows her head in acquiescence and soon returns with bowls filled to the brim with steaming beef stew. Toothsnacher brings over the bottles of wine and a small keg of ale at Shaddar’s request.
“Sit, my friends. Enjoy! I have eaten my fill earlier, but it would rude to discuss our business before you have been fully satisfied with victuals yourselves!”
When they still hesitate, casting uncertain glances at Hawke who is scowling furiously, Shaddar offers further encouragement. “This is not a test, merely a courtesy. Your days of eating gruel are over! From now on you can eat whatever I place before you.” He chuckles in what he hopes is a friendly-sounding way as he goes on, “Don’t insult me, now! The cook has worked hard on this fine meal!”
Hawke is perplexed by the reference to gruel, but he hasn’t got any other clue that his current guests are not human. Not yet. And if Shaddar is careful he won’t for a time. Best to leave that bit of conflict for another day if it can be allowed to simmer. Besides, Hawke’s reaction to the true nature of Shaddar and his guests is something of an experiment. How will the man react when he finds out the truth? It will be a most useful test to see how the revelation will be handled by other residents of the city when and if that time comes.
One of the drow is not convinced by Shaddar’s gracious words. He screws up his courage and speaks, “On what authority do you do this?”
“On my own authority. I am a higher authority than one of you has ever imagined.”
This seems to do nothing but confuse the newcomers. Those who have already been ‘modified’ nod their heads with slight smiles. Shaddar waves the question aside with his tentacles and adds, “I’ll prove it to you – just give me time. For now, however, it is time to feast!”
The confidence of his manner combined with the savory aroma of the food and drink is enough to help them make the correct decision. They sit down. Slowly at first, they begin to sample the meal, but they quickly begin to consume the food at a rate which is a bit alarming. Clearly, they are not in the habit of eating such excellent food. Shaddar is perfectly willing to allow them to stuff themselves – they will need their strength to do his bidding. The liquor is having a fine effect as well, relaxing their fears and loosening their thoughts. That will make things so much easier later.
Shaddar hopes to teach the drow in particular about the culture that they have apparently lost. Perhaps the brainmate can be of some use in this task? Or perhaps there is something that will help in the locked scrollcase he found in his master’s pocket?
He mentally summons Loolipo. Soon she shuffles to his side. Shaddar hands the scrollcase to her and commands, “Open this for me when you can. Return it as soon as you pick the lock.” She takes the case and is already examining the intricate mechanism as she leaves the room.
Best not to depend on the faint possibility that there is a treatise on drow history in the scrollcase. No. He resolves to use the knowledge that brainmate carries combined with his own experiences to transmit as much of the information about drow culture available to him directly into the minds of the dark elves who seem to have lost it. This mental barrage combined with a subtle psychic suggestion to accept the knowledge as the glorious truth might win some of them over and transform these submissive slaves into the clever and aggressive pawns that he will require.
“The dark elves will form the elites of my army, the public face of the rebellion that I plan to foster here. They will commune with me and I will give them authority over my forces when I am not present. The hobgoblins are ideally suited to become my foot-soldiers and enforcers; certainly they must be more numerous due to their much higher reproduction rate.”
Shaddar is less concerned with the difficulties in winning over the hobgoblins. It is in their very nature to be aggressive and enjoy regimented conflict. He will merely provide an alternate outlet for the release of these natural and normal tendencies.
The 3 drow and 5 hobgoblins are certainly relishing their meal. Hawke shakes his head in anger periodically, usually after one of the hobgoblins releases a belch or loud slurp. Satisfied noises of enjoyment are nearly constant.
“Table manners of pigs,” Hawke thinks in disgust. “And the stew isn’t that good. Why, they act like they’ve never had beef stew before!”
While the food is a welcome distraction, none of his guests can stop thinking worried thoughts about their being in a place that has been forbidden to them. The hobgoblins in particular are frightened. Shaddar is quite curious about this.
“I will reeducate them, naturally, but how were these fierce warrior races so thoroughly trained or conditioned to begin with? What methods were used? Might I be able to use the technique myself to ‘handle’ the current masters of the city, I wonder?”
As he ponders these new creatures and samples their thoughts to better understand each of them he hears Jorin, Bort, and Cutt descend the stairs behind him and turns to face them.
Cutt reports, “All is accomplished as you commanded, master.”
Jorin and Bort freeze mid-step as they see Shaddar’s guests eating in the middle of the hall.
“Wh-? Wha-? What? What is this?!” sputters Jorin with an indignant look on his face.
Bort’s mouth drops open and he stares in disbelief at the feasting hobgoblins and dark elves.
“Really now! Is that any way to greet your new fellow guild members?” Shaddar admonishes jovially.
“Fellow members?” gasps Jorin in revulsion.
All of the hobgoblins and drow have stopped eating and are paying close attention to this exchange.
“Calm yourself now,” Shaddar warns, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I told you to trust me. Trust in my direction. I haven’t led you astray so far, have I?”
“But… this is unnatural,” Bort says with a shake of his head.
Clearly, they will need further convincing than simple demands for obedience.
“What is it that makes it unnatural?” Shaddar questions. “Change is very natural. I was a change for you, was I not? And has it not been a good thing? For you?”
“Well… Yes, but this…” Jorin begins hesitantly. Bort elbows his friend in the ribs and tosses his head upstairs. From their thoughts, they both are upset by this turn of events and Bort wants to discuss their response to it privately. Jorin amazingly seems to comprehend his accomplice’s unstated desire and they turn and march huffily back up towards their room.
“A problem I will need to address later,” Shaddar thinks. “How irritating. They will just have to deal with it.” Or he will deal with them…
Shaddar quickly checks Hawke’s thoughts to see if Jorin and Bort have given the game away. Luckily, the man is such a staunch racist, he can’t conceive that lumpys and palehairs would ever enter his hall.
“All his talk about how change is good… Bah! Change is not good,” the man thinks while frowning deeply, “The established order is what’s good. Everyone knows that! It keeps everything working well and everyone happy. That’s the way the Lords of the city and the Lords of the Realm put it together and that’s not going to change!”
Shaddar’s tentacles gesticulate in motions of confident certainty as he thinks, “Change is inevitable…”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 12 Chapter 14 >
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Crossover - Chapter 12
The sorting of the loot collected by his thralls is going to be a somewhat lengthy task. The minotaur kept on mugging people until he felt burdened by the weight of the stolen goods – which is a vast weight, since he’s a such big lad!
Shaddar gives orders and the lesser beings begin their labors. As they get to work he pockets the 60 gems that were collected as well as a fat purse of the local currency to carry with him from the hundreds of gold, silver, and copper coins. It is quite unimportant to know exactly how much money he has, because he can always send his thralls out to gather more of it!
While the thralls and minions are sorting and counting the remainder of the loot, Shaddar walks about to examine the building that he has control of now. There is a main hall with a long bar. Behind this is a kitchen and storeroom. A large pot of stew is simmering near the fire and Shaddar quickly deduces that Hawke must employ others to cook for him and perhaps do other tasks as well. He walks back out of this room to inquire about it.
“From the aroma, it is clear that you cook a fine stew, Hawke!”
The man snorts. “I’m not the cook! I’d be burning my fingers in the fire all day.”
“Then who – ?”
“Widow Cottondur and her two daughters.” Shaddar picks up a bit more information from the man’s thoughts. Apparently, the widow is a cook and her two daughters wash up and serve food and drinks. They arrive each day in the morning, stay until early afternoon, and then return to their home somewhere in the slums. Supper is always a stew, since it can be fixed with the midday meal and served without trouble by the blind man while they are away.
“And how much do you pay this excellent chef?”
Hawke looks offended by the question and merely grunts in reply. His thoughts give the answers that Shaddar seeks, “Three silvers a day for the widow and another two for the pair of girls. It’s a fine wage, but why in the Realm would he care what I pay my help? I don’t like how this fellow sticks his nose in my private business, no I surely don’t…”
Shaddar turns from Hawke and picks up a finely woven basket from the loot. He fills it with several costly trinkets and bracelets. Three silken wraps also go into the basket. On top of these items, he places a handful of gold coins. Basket in hand, Shaddar returns to Hawke and sets it on the bar.
“Hawke, I am deeply impressed with the work of these most excellent ladies. Tomorrow when they arrive, you will give this gift to them with my compliments. Express to them my desire that they continue their good work. Nothing should be altered in their arrangements or routines!”
Hawke feels around the basket’s contents for a moment and realizes almost instantly what it is. His thoughts please Shaddar greatly, “So ‘the Boss’ is going to bribe my workers into silence, eh? Well, that’s for the best. I like Widow Cottondur – wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her or her girls because of this villain. And they could use the gold, sure enough. I’ll make sure they understand what they must do, but not why. That’s the best course.” The man nods briskly.
Satisfied that this matter has been taken care of, Shaddar returns to his inspection of the building and its grounds while making further plans.
In the back of the meadhall there is a patio area fitted for outside dining. There is a high wall around this patio, and Shaddar can see no overlooking windows or gaps in the wall. Very private. The patio area will be transformed into an exercise yard. Toothsnatcher will be useful in rearranging the area to his liking with target dummies and a clear space for practicing maneuvers.
He spends a moment pondering the minotaur and the thoughts he has scanned since their arrival to this new location. Raised by an outcast female in the Underdark, he was captured when Felinxtrath killed his mother. He is not well educated as a result of his isolated upbringing, but his survival and physical skills are excellent. Years of servitude have weakened his initial hostility to illithids in general and he actually feels a slight kinship with Shaddar in their shared hatred of his ex-master. Now that the butcher of his mother is dead, the thrall feels quite happy about working for Shaddar. Besides this there are two reasons for the minotaur’s current contentment: the maze-like area of the border zone alleys feels more like home than anything he has experienced before, and bullying and beating smaller creatures is always fun.
Shaddar moves on in his exploration. Next to the patio area is a small stable, currently unoccupied. He is pleased. The small stable will be turned into an archery range.
“I will be able to make excellent use of this area – once it has been properly modified, of course,” he thinks.
Loolipo is the ideal candidate for converting the stable into an archery range. Kuo-toa settlements are quite often raided and Loolipo was collected during one of these ‘harvests’. Unlike many of the others captured, her dexterous skills with the pincher staff and bow caused her to be taken as a thrall instead of being a light snack for some deserving mindflayer as were the rest of her fellow captives. Yes, she will do nicely as an archery instructor for his future army.
Shaddar returns to the interior of the meadhall and explores the remainder of the ground floor. There are several other rooms on the main floor that look like they could be used as rooms for tenants. He decides that these rooms will be used to for the drow when they arrive.
The 2nd floor will be for him and his thralls. Walking upstairs he is amused to see the dropped items and broken objects that are the remnants of Toothsnatcher’s eviction process. There are several rooms on this floor. Shaddar will transform the largest room into his own lair. This happens to be the one that had the recalcitrant boarder in it, which means the door and window will need repairs from where Toothsnatcher broken them apart, but this is a small matter. One room will be converted into an alchemy lab for Cutt.
As much as the gnome is enjoying plying his sharp wit among the populace of this city, the thrall’s true calling lies in alchemy. Shaddar has great plans for putting Cutt’s esoteric skills to use. He resolves to go out with the gnome first thing in the morning to collect the necessary materials for the thrall to begin producing violent substances that will be of great utility.
Finally the 3rd floor: it will be for the coming hobgoblins. Jorin and Bort will also be allowed to retain their current quarters on the top floor. The men have made a big deal about the fact that their room has roof access – trying to make it seem like they sneak out across the rooftops at night. Shaddar has seen that this has never happened from their thoughts. They have they not gone on “daring rooftop escapades”. His tentacles jerk in a gesture of annoyance as he thinks of Jorin’s continual and pointless bragging.
His inspections complete, Shaddar returns to the main hall and rejoins the rest of his group.
Jorin and Bort are beginning to take off their costumes and Jorin asks, “Boss? Why are you and your lads still wearing your illusions? Don’t you want to relax a bit now that the day’s work is done?”
“Ah. You see fellows, this is one of the changes we will be making. To be a member of the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues, you must stay in character at all times. You never know when your benefactor,” a languid gesture towards his own chest, “is going to require your services or when opportunities will present themselves. You must be ready at all times. It is one of the keys to my success, in fact. Write that down.”
Jorin can’t write! He turns to Bort, “Yes, Bort, er, write that down.” Bort does so with a slight frown on his face. Bort’s thoughts show that he doesn’t believe that the thralls are under any illusionary magic – he handled them when he took their measurements for the outfits they now wear and he thinks that perhaps the thralls and even Shaddar may actually be what they appear to be. He’s not sure what to think about that – he certainly has no idea what any of them are in terms of species. Shaddar is bemused by his befuddlement.
His minions have not been idle during his explorations. The swag has been well-organized. He gives the order to transport all of the goods upstairs to one of the now-empty bedrooms on the second floor. Jorin, Bort, and Cutt begin hauling all of the loot upstairs to be stored.
“We must keep the common areas of the meadhall looking… normal,” Shaddar thinks, “Who knows when Chief Constable Snook, bless his doomed little soul, will stop by again.”
Thoughts of Hawke are interesting. Since the man is blind, he has no idea that Shaddar and his thralls look like monsters, so his mental assumptions are that Shaddar is a congested fellow (moist-sounding when he talks, periodic slurps), that Toothsnatcher is a huge man with a speech impediment or a scar on his throat and massive hob-nailed boots, that Cutt is a midget, and that Loolipo drools constantly (bubbling and popping noises). He is still very upset at the takeover of his place and thinks, “The Heroes can’t get here too soon… And they will! They always seem to show up when they are needed. I can’t believe this: I never thought I’d be looking forward to having a Hero enter my shop! How I hate them! But this ‘Boss’ is so terrible – anything would be better than him!”
Shaddar is curious that the gold hasn’t placated Hawke. Slowly he realizes that because of the rough treatment the man received when he worked under the Guild of Villains, the man hates to be under the authority of anyone else.
“Will his hatred of his new situation cause me any minor difficulty, I wonder? His attitude certainly warrants monitoring.”
It is clear that Hawke understands and resents that the authority that Shaddar wields. It is also clear that the man thinks that should he cross his authority that all he will suffer is a beating at the hands of Toothsnatcher. Well, perhaps he will do that first, but if the man becomes bothersome, then Shaddar will be forced to kill him. He wonders if he should somehow let the human know that the consequences of rebellion will be much more severe than he imagines…
Several times during the cataloging of loot, other patrons try to enter the meadhall to have a brew, but Loolipo enjoys her assignment of turning them elsewhere. As the first loads of ill-gotten goods are taken upstairs, Shaddar senses some men move to enter the building and she bars their path. Shaddar can hear the altercation.
“Closed. Go away.”
“Ugh! Out of our way, you ugly little freak!”
BZAPP!
“Yow!”
Wet, bubbly laughter and the sound of feet running away. Her thoughts are filled with satisfaction and enjoyment at this task.
Hawke has heard this short drama as well and is most displeased: “So how late are you planning on me keeping the bar open? Since your girl with the head-cold is chasing off all my customers?”
“Do not worry. You now have other sources of revenue.”
“I don’t run a pub for the money,” Hawke says with exasperation, “What about the social aspects?”
“Never fear! Soon you will have socializing aplenty!”
“Oh, yes. Your… guests,” Hawke’s voice trails off into incoherent and bitter-sounding mutters.
“Do not sound so upset, friend Hawke! This will soon be transformed into a higher class of institution, which will cater to only a very select group of patrons. They, and only they, will be allowed to enter. You will like them – I promise.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because even if you don’t like them,” Shaddar’s voice becomes icy cold, “you’ll like them.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 11 Chapter 13 >
Shaddar gives orders and the lesser beings begin their labors. As they get to work he pockets the 60 gems that were collected as well as a fat purse of the local currency to carry with him from the hundreds of gold, silver, and copper coins. It is quite unimportant to know exactly how much money he has, because he can always send his thralls out to gather more of it!
While the thralls and minions are sorting and counting the remainder of the loot, Shaddar walks about to examine the building that he has control of now. There is a main hall with a long bar. Behind this is a kitchen and storeroom. A large pot of stew is simmering near the fire and Shaddar quickly deduces that Hawke must employ others to cook for him and perhaps do other tasks as well. He walks back out of this room to inquire about it.
“From the aroma, it is clear that you cook a fine stew, Hawke!”
The man snorts. “I’m not the cook! I’d be burning my fingers in the fire all day.”
“Then who – ?”
“Widow Cottondur and her two daughters.” Shaddar picks up a bit more information from the man’s thoughts. Apparently, the widow is a cook and her two daughters wash up and serve food and drinks. They arrive each day in the morning, stay until early afternoon, and then return to their home somewhere in the slums. Supper is always a stew, since it can be fixed with the midday meal and served without trouble by the blind man while they are away.
“And how much do you pay this excellent chef?”
Hawke looks offended by the question and merely grunts in reply. His thoughts give the answers that Shaddar seeks, “Three silvers a day for the widow and another two for the pair of girls. It’s a fine wage, but why in the Realm would he care what I pay my help? I don’t like how this fellow sticks his nose in my private business, no I surely don’t…”
Shaddar turns from Hawke and picks up a finely woven basket from the loot. He fills it with several costly trinkets and bracelets. Three silken wraps also go into the basket. On top of these items, he places a handful of gold coins. Basket in hand, Shaddar returns to Hawke and sets it on the bar.
“Hawke, I am deeply impressed with the work of these most excellent ladies. Tomorrow when they arrive, you will give this gift to them with my compliments. Express to them my desire that they continue their good work. Nothing should be altered in their arrangements or routines!”
Hawke feels around the basket’s contents for a moment and realizes almost instantly what it is. His thoughts please Shaddar greatly, “So ‘the Boss’ is going to bribe my workers into silence, eh? Well, that’s for the best. I like Widow Cottondur – wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her or her girls because of this villain. And they could use the gold, sure enough. I’ll make sure they understand what they must do, but not why. That’s the best course.” The man nods briskly.
Satisfied that this matter has been taken care of, Shaddar returns to his inspection of the building and its grounds while making further plans.
In the back of the meadhall there is a patio area fitted for outside dining. There is a high wall around this patio, and Shaddar can see no overlooking windows or gaps in the wall. Very private. The patio area will be transformed into an exercise yard. Toothsnatcher will be useful in rearranging the area to his liking with target dummies and a clear space for practicing maneuvers.
He spends a moment pondering the minotaur and the thoughts he has scanned since their arrival to this new location. Raised by an outcast female in the Underdark, he was captured when Felinxtrath killed his mother. He is not well educated as a result of his isolated upbringing, but his survival and physical skills are excellent. Years of servitude have weakened his initial hostility to illithids in general and he actually feels a slight kinship with Shaddar in their shared hatred of his ex-master. Now that the butcher of his mother is dead, the thrall feels quite happy about working for Shaddar. Besides this there are two reasons for the minotaur’s current contentment: the maze-like area of the border zone alleys feels more like home than anything he has experienced before, and bullying and beating smaller creatures is always fun.
Shaddar moves on in his exploration. Next to the patio area is a small stable, currently unoccupied. He is pleased. The small stable will be turned into an archery range.
“I will be able to make excellent use of this area – once it has been properly modified, of course,” he thinks.
Loolipo is the ideal candidate for converting the stable into an archery range. Kuo-toa settlements are quite often raided and Loolipo was collected during one of these ‘harvests’. Unlike many of the others captured, her dexterous skills with the pincher staff and bow caused her to be taken as a thrall instead of being a light snack for some deserving mindflayer as were the rest of her fellow captives. Yes, she will do nicely as an archery instructor for his future army.
Shaddar returns to the interior of the meadhall and explores the remainder of the ground floor. There are several other rooms on the main floor that look like they could be used as rooms for tenants. He decides that these rooms will be used to for the drow when they arrive.
The 2nd floor will be for him and his thralls. Walking upstairs he is amused to see the dropped items and broken objects that are the remnants of Toothsnatcher’s eviction process. There are several rooms on this floor. Shaddar will transform the largest room into his own lair. This happens to be the one that had the recalcitrant boarder in it, which means the door and window will need repairs from where Toothsnatcher broken them apart, but this is a small matter. One room will be converted into an alchemy lab for Cutt.
As much as the gnome is enjoying plying his sharp wit among the populace of this city, the thrall’s true calling lies in alchemy. Shaddar has great plans for putting Cutt’s esoteric skills to use. He resolves to go out with the gnome first thing in the morning to collect the necessary materials for the thrall to begin producing violent substances that will be of great utility.
Finally the 3rd floor: it will be for the coming hobgoblins. Jorin and Bort will also be allowed to retain their current quarters on the top floor. The men have made a big deal about the fact that their room has roof access – trying to make it seem like they sneak out across the rooftops at night. Shaddar has seen that this has never happened from their thoughts. They have they not gone on “daring rooftop escapades”. His tentacles jerk in a gesture of annoyance as he thinks of Jorin’s continual and pointless bragging.
His inspections complete, Shaddar returns to the main hall and rejoins the rest of his group.
Jorin and Bort are beginning to take off their costumes and Jorin asks, “Boss? Why are you and your lads still wearing your illusions? Don’t you want to relax a bit now that the day’s work is done?”
“Ah. You see fellows, this is one of the changes we will be making. To be a member of the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues, you must stay in character at all times. You never know when your benefactor,” a languid gesture towards his own chest, “is going to require your services or when opportunities will present themselves. You must be ready at all times. It is one of the keys to my success, in fact. Write that down.”
Jorin can’t write! He turns to Bort, “Yes, Bort, er, write that down.” Bort does so with a slight frown on his face. Bort’s thoughts show that he doesn’t believe that the thralls are under any illusionary magic – he handled them when he took their measurements for the outfits they now wear and he thinks that perhaps the thralls and even Shaddar may actually be what they appear to be. He’s not sure what to think about that – he certainly has no idea what any of them are in terms of species. Shaddar is bemused by his befuddlement.
His minions have not been idle during his explorations. The swag has been well-organized. He gives the order to transport all of the goods upstairs to one of the now-empty bedrooms on the second floor. Jorin, Bort, and Cutt begin hauling all of the loot upstairs to be stored.
“We must keep the common areas of the meadhall looking… normal,” Shaddar thinks, “Who knows when Chief Constable Snook, bless his doomed little soul, will stop by again.”
Thoughts of Hawke are interesting. Since the man is blind, he has no idea that Shaddar and his thralls look like monsters, so his mental assumptions are that Shaddar is a congested fellow (moist-sounding when he talks, periodic slurps), that Toothsnatcher is a huge man with a speech impediment or a scar on his throat and massive hob-nailed boots, that Cutt is a midget, and that Loolipo drools constantly (bubbling and popping noises). He is still very upset at the takeover of his place and thinks, “The Heroes can’t get here too soon… And they will! They always seem to show up when they are needed. I can’t believe this: I never thought I’d be looking forward to having a Hero enter my shop! How I hate them! But this ‘Boss’ is so terrible – anything would be better than him!”
Shaddar is curious that the gold hasn’t placated Hawke. Slowly he realizes that because of the rough treatment the man received when he worked under the Guild of Villains, the man hates to be under the authority of anyone else.
“Will his hatred of his new situation cause me any minor difficulty, I wonder? His attitude certainly warrants monitoring.”
It is clear that Hawke understands and resents that the authority that Shaddar wields. It is also clear that the man thinks that should he cross his authority that all he will suffer is a beating at the hands of Toothsnatcher. Well, perhaps he will do that first, but if the man becomes bothersome, then Shaddar will be forced to kill him. He wonders if he should somehow let the human know that the consequences of rebellion will be much more severe than he imagines…
Several times during the cataloging of loot, other patrons try to enter the meadhall to have a brew, but Loolipo enjoys her assignment of turning them elsewhere. As the first loads of ill-gotten goods are taken upstairs, Shaddar senses some men move to enter the building and she bars their path. Shaddar can hear the altercation.
“Closed. Go away.”
“Ugh! Out of our way, you ugly little freak!”
BZAPP!
“Yow!”
Wet, bubbly laughter and the sound of feet running away. Her thoughts are filled with satisfaction and enjoyment at this task.
Hawke has heard this short drama as well and is most displeased: “So how late are you planning on me keeping the bar open? Since your girl with the head-cold is chasing off all my customers?”
“Do not worry. You now have other sources of revenue.”
“I don’t run a pub for the money,” Hawke says with exasperation, “What about the social aspects?”
“Never fear! Soon you will have socializing aplenty!”
“Oh, yes. Your… guests,” Hawke’s voice trails off into incoherent and bitter-sounding mutters.
“Do not sound so upset, friend Hawke! This will soon be transformed into a higher class of institution, which will cater to only a very select group of patrons. They, and only they, will be allowed to enter. You will like them – I promise.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because even if you don’t like them,” Shaddar’s voice becomes icy cold, “you’ll like them.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 11 Chapter 13 >
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Mek Lab - Big Mek with Shokk Attack Gun
He's hard at work, trying to appease the insatiable appetite of Warboss Chainsaw - the hunger for more units to use in his WAAAGH!
Without further ado, let's turn the time over to Mek Gearsnik:
"The las' Big Mek dat borrowed me lab didna tighten' the kno'wots on hiz shokk attack gun. Wood 'e listen to ol' Gearsnik? Nah! So he gotz hizself blowd up, o' courz. Da dum sod! Dis made Chainsaw mad 'nd we can't have dat. Taday we're gonna build a proppa shokk attack gun and I suppoze we'll need to make a cybork Big Mek ta carry it 'round az well - I heard dat de last fella ate a hot rokkit fer breckfast. Whal, dat iz no way ta live... Get it? Har-har-har!"
See the amazing transformation of a few ork model bitz, some random junkyard scrap, and a whole lotta' crazy inventiveness into something alien and rude. One of the most feared weapons that the ork horde can bring to bear: A Shokk Attack Gun wielding Big Mek!
Without further ado, let's turn the time over to Mek Gearsnik:"The las' Big Mek dat borrowed me lab didna tighten' the kno'wots on hiz shokk attack gun. Wood 'e listen to ol' Gearsnik? Nah! So he gotz hizself blowd up, o' courz. Da dum sod! Dis made Chainsaw mad 'nd we can't have dat. Taday we're gonna build a proppa shokk attack gun and I suppoze we'll need to make a cybork Big Mek ta carry it 'round az well - I heard dat de last fella ate a hot rokkit fer breckfast. Whal, dat iz no way ta live... Get it? Har-har-har!"
Big Mek with Shokk Attack Gun
Thursday, October 25, 2012
AAR: October 20, 2012 - Ghetto Blasta
The roads will grant extra movement for vehicles, but the metal and cermacrete flooring is too pitted to get the bonus everywhere.
Low walls and fences are considered difficult terrain, but high fences are impassable.
No buildings or towers can be embarked by models.
Chainsawz Ladz:
HQ - Mega-Warboss Chainsaw (Master of the WAAAGH!)
HQ - Big Mek (Shokk attack gun)
Elites - 15x Kommandoz (Nob with power claw, 2x Rokkit)
Elites - 7x TankBustaz (Nob with power claw, 1x Tank hammer)
Troops - 30x Boyz (Nob with power claw)
Troops - 30x Boyz (Nob with power claw)
Heavy Support - 3x Lobba gunz (6x Extra crew, Runtherd, 3x Ammo runts)
Heavy Support - 10x Flash Gitz (Kaptain Krunktoof, Painboy, Cyborks, Blastas, Shootier)
"Dis iz my 'hood! Chainsaw iz gonna rip yer bellies wide open 'nd feast on the da gooey bitz inside!"
Dark Purifiers
HQ - Antonidus Aurelius (Chapter master, Master-crafted power sword)
HQ - Captain (Thunder hammer)
Elites - Dreadnought (Power fist, Multi-melta)
Elites - 10x Terminators (2x Cyclone missile launchers, 2x Chain-fists, Power fists)
Troops - 10x Tactical Marines (Flamer, Missile launcher)
Troops - 10x Tactical Marines (Melta, Heavy bolter)
Troops - 6x Sniper Scouts with Sgt. Immortus (Missile launcher)
Heavy Support - Land Raider Redeemer (Multi-metla)
"Brothers, you know you're in the ghetto when orks are in the street."
Chainsaw will defend his precious synth-meat production facility from the red side.
Tactical squad 1 is lead by the chapter master, they are scoping the layout of the ork positions before their plan of embarking into the land raider.
Tactical squad 3 takes cover from a building, the lead marine scans the area, looking for a juicy target for his new wire-guided missile.
The captain and the terminator squad he leads form up in a wall of terrifying firepower and nigh-impenetrable power armor with pride clear on their faces.
The dreadnought stands behind them, eager to avenge to deaths of so many innocents from the brutal and never-ending campaign of conflict that Warboss Chainsaw has brought to the sector.
Chainsaw leads mob1 on the main road. His ladz are well-fed and ready for action!
The lobbaz have setup right behind the synth-meat plant.
Next to them is a small group of tank bustas who have heard that there might be some large machines that need 'splodin'.
Mob2 fills the gap between the rokkit-wielding orks and the flash gitz who are lead by Kaptain Krumptoof.
The kommandoz position themselves right around the corner from the snipers - it is obvious that they hope to bang the snipers around a bit at their earliest convenience.
The chapter master uses his mastery of strategy to grant special abilities to some of the units he has led into battle. The terminators and tactical squad 3 both are schooled in 'the hammer of righteousness' which will allow them to re-roll poor wound dice. Tactical squad 1 hears and applies the 'shield of blades' sermon and gains the counter-attack special rule.
Satisfied that his pupils are applying the lessons he has taught, Antonidus Aurelius vows to teach the orks a lesson and calls down an orbital bombardment! Although his original target was the lobba gunz, the attack scatters south and lands in the middle of mob2. Six of the orks are pulped by the particle beams that come from orbit.
"No matter. All aliens must be purged. We will remain the eye of the storm, while the hurricane sweeps the foes of the Emperor from the land!"
Tactical squad 1 embarks into the land raider and the tank surges forward, positioning itself to hold the gap in the barricade.
Tactical squad 4 moves forward as does the line of terminators and the dreadnought.
- The land raider opens fire at the kommandoz and wipes out five of them.
- Tactical squad 3 fires the wire-guided missile. The marine at the controls deftly threads the streaking HEAT explosive in-between two snipers, past a dozen boys in mob2, through a gap in the chain link fence and impacts in the forehead of the big mek. His head explodes like a rotten watermelon! The rest of the squad gives the missile wire-pilot high-fives all around!
- The terminators and snipers open fire into the stunned ladz of mob2. They are not given a moment of respite from the brutal pounding they have already suffered! Frag missiles kill 13 of the boyz and 2 heads are popped via sniper rounds.
The orks move forward, many of them shooting their primitive-looking weapons as they go.
Both mobs of boyz run forward (the tattered remnant of mob2 needs little encouragement to flee from the killing ground of the orbital strike!), and the gun crews remain in position.
- The tank busters launch rokkits at the dreadnought, but they run out of fuel just short of the target and create a series of new, jagged potholes in the road.
- The flash gitz open up at the terminators, but most of them are still out of range. The heavy armor of the space marines protects them from the few shots that manage to come close to them.
- The lobbaz shell tactical squad 4 and kill 3 of the marines.
- The kommandoz shoot the snipers, killing one of the brave marines. Seeing this, the orks charge forward and slam their stabby-bits into the lightly armored scouts. 4 of the snipers are cut down, while 3 more kommandoz pay for this with their own lives. Only Sergeant Immortus remains standing at the end of this turn.
The chapter master moves to the gap where the decisive battle looks to be fought, but takes a moment to give some attention to the aliens as he moves.
Tactical squad 3 links back up with the men who survived the shelling of squad 4.
Both the terminator squad and the dreadnought position themselves right at the waist-high guardrail that runs along the side-street.
Weapons of pure destruction are used as follows:
- Tactical squad 1 rapid fires into mob2 as the tank turns it's powerful melta on the hapless orks at the same time. A total of 3 boyz die, one of them is turned into a smoldering, disconnected torso from the tank's weapon. The dreadnought also shoots at the diminishing mob2, but the tough aliens resist it's firepower.
- As the land raider heaves into view of the tank bustas, the driver sees them point their weapons at his pristine and freshly washed-and-waxed tank. "Oh, no you don't!" he yells. The twin-linked assault cannon rips two of the rokkit-weilding boys to shreds.
- The chapter master uses his fearsome stormcannon at mob1 and rips 3 of them apart.
- The terminators unload their considerable firepower into the flash gitz. 4 of the orks die and another is wounded as krak missiles and explosive rounds detonate all around the upset aliens.
- The leader of the snipers fights against the kommandoz, but he is overwhelmed by their superior numbers and greater physical strength. He manages to take one of them with him as he goes down.
The tankbustas move to one edge of the communications area to make room for the charging horde of mob1 as Warboss Chainsaw screams at them, "Make a hole or me makez one right troh ya!"
The flash gitz move up to the fence in their area and get a green light from their git-findas as the range to the terminators is suddenly optimal for their whole group.
- The kommandoz and mob2 fire their sluggas at the disciplined men of tactical squad 1, but the spastic fire is totally without effect.
- The tank bustas shoot at the dreadnought, but the rokkits explode harmlessly on the thick armor plate of the war machine's shoulder. "Whal, datz disapoint'in..."
- The flash gits shoot back at the terminators, hoping to get a little bit of their own back. And they do. A very little bit: only 2 terminators go down.
- The lobbaz unload towards tactical squad 3 and 2 more marines are thrown around the street.
- The close-quarters combat between the kommandoz and tactical squad 1 is resolved first, because they are much closer to the space marines. The kommandoz manage to kill a space marine, but when 3 of their own number of dropped, they turn to flee. The space marine sergeant uses his chain sword to hamstring them as they turn and they all go down howling.
- Enraged at the treatment they have seen up-close, mob2 slams into tactical squad 1. 2 marines die, but the orks take more damage as 2 of their own dwindling numbers are slain as well as the nob taking a wound from the chattering chainsword.
The tank drives around the mass of snarling combat to gain the strategic center of the battlefield.
The dreadnought climbs over the guardrail to form up on the tank's flank.
- The dreadnought assists with increasing the skills of one of the flash gitz: he will get to learn how to walk with only one leg (if he can crawl out of battle alive, of course).
- The terminator squad attacks the flash gitz as well, annoyed at the resilience of the well-equipped greenskins. 3 more of the orks go down screaming despite all the painboy can do to assist them. "Not much me can do fer a missin' skull! Save doos otdar bitz fer spare partz, ord'ly!"
- The land raider sends an extra helping of large-bore explosive rounds into the tank bustas, killing 3 more of them horribly. The two remaining survivors run for the hills. "Datz why we hatez tankz!"
- Tactical squad 3 shoots mob1, but only a single lad goes down.
- With the addition of Antonidus Aurelius, tactical squad 1 brutally assaults what was left of mob2 without losing another man. "And that is how it is done, brothers. See that group of filth? You will practice what you have seen me do on them next!"
He unleashes the power of the WAAAGH! as he leads his mean and green mob1 into close combat with tactical squad 1 and the insulting chapter master.
Massive globs of foam stream from the roaring ork's open maw as he screams a battle challenge. The iron halo provides a force field effect that keeps the foaming spittle from disgracing the power armor's holy surface.
"Come at me," the chapter master states with a sneer, "Come to your doom!"
- The lobbaz fire at tactical squad 3 once again, but this time their aim is not so good. They do manage to kill one marine, but then their last shell veers unexpectedly right into the middle of the swarming melee to the south! 4 orks from mob1 and a marine from tactical squad 1 are blown to bits.
- The flash gitz are greatly reduced in number and this is quite clear from the weak energy fire they direct at the terminators. None of the terminators are harmed.
- The tank bustas take a moment from their headlong rush to escape the battle to shoot their last rokkits at the dreadnought. They are hopelessly out of range, but feel better about themselves.
- Mob1 shoots at the marines as they close with them. The assault is a mess: 6 space marines die and the chapter master is grievously wounded three times. Warboss Chainsaw hoots with delight as only one more lad dies and he takes a wound himself. "Jus' a scratch! Me like scarz anyway!"
All other space marine forces charge into the swirling slug-fest that surrounds both their chapter master and the vile warboss.
- The tank uses one of the flamestorm cannons to turn a flash gitz into a crispy cinder.
- Tactical squad 3 and the chapter master assault mob1. 2 orks die, but the a space marine in the squad goes down as well, leaving just the badly wounded chapter master alone with just the sergeant for company.
- But not for long! The line of terminators is lead by their captain into battle! They focus all of their attacks on the warboss and barely manage to stop him. The final blow is from the captain's thunder hammer as it connects with one of the last bones in Warboss Chainsaw's body not augmented by cybork bitz: his pelvis. It is turned into calcium shards and he goes down howling! The warboss decapitates 3 of the mighty terminators before he can be brought down.
- The dreadnought then moves into attempt to finish the ladz of mob1. The nob of the group is still quite active and swings his mighty power claw at this new attacker. One ork is crushed to death, but the nob manages to land a glancing blow that slows the dreadnought's attack somewhat.
The flash gitz and the lobba crew both decide that discretion may be the better part of valor as well. Both groups pack up what little gear they can carry and run as fast as they can away from
their attackers.
Mob1 is locked in grim combat with three units of foes and do nothing but chop, stab, and bite.
- Mob1 focuses on taking out the terminators who distracted and weakened their fearless leader. 3 more terminators are brought to a halt at a loss of 6 ladz.
- The tank kills the last flash gitz, leaving only Kaptain Krumktoof and his trusty painboy alive.
- The dreadnought stomps another lad from the shrinking numbers of mob1.
- The terminators also reach into mob1, killing 4 ladz themselves before the final 2 terminators are killed themselves. The captain is all that remains of this group.
- Tactical squad 1 is reduced to nothing but the chapter master as the sergeant is slain and 2 more orks die. The madness of this combat will continue as the orks fight with a frenzy to protect their fallen leader!
Kaptain Krunktoof and his painboy are less than thrilled with the tank shadowing them and hurriedly seek shelter in the crates to the south.
- Knowing that they have a very slight chance to at least bring this battle to a draw, the 7 orks left alive of mob1 attack the captain, hoping to at least wound him once. The captain pulverizes 3 of the orks for their insolence, but he is wounded nonetheless by the nob's rusty power claw.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Crossover - Chapter 11
Shaddar returns to the tavern feeling quite satisfied with himself. If his thralls and human pawns have done as he asked, many wheels have now been set into motion. Surely one or more of them will work to his advantage soon. He chuckles aloud as he thinks of the latest bit of slander he accomplished.
He claimed to be one of the Lords of the city before he left the brothel. The mixture of shock and veneration he was then shown was fascinating to behold. The madam tripped all over herself in vacillating between horror that one of the Lords of the city would utilize at her establishment and an innate respect that bordered on worship to be in his presence. He told the facility to send him a bill for his distasteful and shocking requests at the city center. More antagonism and slander for those who run this city!
A couple of men stumble out of the meadhall as it comes into sight. Their hair is standing on end and their clothes are smoking slightly. It looks like they have been electrocuted – perhaps by Loolipo’s electrified pincher staff? How comical they look!
Shaddar laughs softly to himself as he enters the Jester and Hawk Meadhall. He picks up on the barkeeps thoughts as he shuts the door, “Curse these new friends of Jorin and Bort! They are driving away all my regular patrons! On purpose!”
Loolipo is indeed already there, twirling her pincher staff with a smirk on her face. She reports at once. Her slanders were so vile that when she told people what she would say they refused to hire her. Eventually she found some customers who didn’t want to know what she would say and she so enraged her victims that one drew his sword at her and she had to disarm him. Everyone who heard her repeat her vile stories were shocked and many tried to get her to stop talking. In every case she told the shocked hearers what guild she worked for and who had employed her. She did not earn very much money.
“What did you say to so enrage them?” Shaddar questions.
“I spoke of how the target has a nasty rotting-flesh disease and that they were an incurable carrier of it. I would then describe what their skin looked like and say that I only discovered this because the fellow tried to take advantage of me in a dark alley with his clothes removed. I would say: ‘I barely escaped with my chastity intact!’ and the peoples would go all quiet and open-mouthy. It was funny, master.”
The door slams open and Cutt enters the tavern with a huge smile on his face. He looks like he has had the most wonderful day.
“Low hanging fruit! Low hanging fruit – everywhere! Ha-ha-ha! It was joyous!” He dumps a large purse filled with coins onto the table as he continues, “A very tidy haul! I worked quickly and insulted the big folk into stunned disbelief. Ha!”
Shaddar is pleased, but would know more details. “And were their reactions indicative of a weak tolerance for insults in general?”
“I almost felt guilty it was so easy. I would insult grown men and they would start crying like little girls. Many of my victims actually fainted! But here is the best part: When I reported back to those who sent me to insult their enemies they were horrified at my report to them and every last mother’s son instantly rushed off to apologize! Such foolishness!”
Shaddar is quite pleased. The disorder that his thrall’s actions will certainly cause is clear from the stunned reactions they are reporting. They hear the clomp of the hooves of a huge and heavy beast and all of them turn to the still-open door.
Toothsnatcher enters the meadhall looking like he has been attacked by the contents of a clothing shop. His back is loaded with rude sacks made from knotted shirts and trousers, bulging with swag. The minotaur kicks the door shut with one foot and then rolls the massive collection off his shoulders and it bangs loudly on the floor.
“Good pickin’s!” he says with a cruel voice.
The minotaur gleefully tells stories of how his afternoon went as they open the sacks and begin to sort the loot. He uses a falsetto tone of voice to mimic the words of some of his victims and pauses often to snort with bovine laughter.
“There was really only three kinds of marks. First you had: ’Oh, no thank you. I don’t want a mugging…’ POW!” The minotaur smacks his huge fist into the other hand with a meaty sound, “Then there was: ‘Alright, here’s your coin, villain, now be on your way. What? No, you can’t have the rest of them!’ POW!” again the fist strikes, “But mostly it was like this: ‘Take it all! Please don’t hurt me! Oh, no!’ POW!”
He chortles with pleasure at the fun he has had crunching humans. Every victim (that was still conscious) got told that it was the Swashbuckling Rogues who had relieved them of their possessions and ended their pain-free day. All of the loot is sorted and piled onto the tables of the meadhall as he tells his tales, covering them almost completely with items, clothing, wigs, jewels, and piles and piles of coins.
Coinage is very strange here. Shaddar has never seen anything like it. The coins are hexagon in shape and of different sizes depending on the value of the metal the coin is cast from. He has seen coins from many of the surface lands, but he must be far from home indeed to have never seen any like these before.
The barkeep is horrified at these stories and the proof of them in his thoughts, but says nothing. “I’ve never heard such horrors! Worse than the Guild of Villains ever was! I can’t believe it! Can’t show any fear at all, though. I learned that much living with villains before. I only have to wait: the Heroes will soon hear of this and sort their hash out. A Guild of Rogues indeed…”
Last to arrive is Jorin and Bort. The thralls stop sharing their tales once they arrive on the immediate mental orders of Shaddar.
“We had such a successful day! Look at all the gold we go-“ Jorin stops mid-sentence as he stares at the mounds of riches in the inn with a small purse sitting in one palm.
“Oh, my word!”
Shaddar sweeps a hand at the haul, “Four percent!” Jorin and Bort’s eyes light up with greed.
The barkeep shouts out, “Good! Rent’s due!”
Shaddar turns to Hawke. “Yes. I needed to speak to you about that. You’ll be renting the entire building to me for at least the next month.”
“But I can’t do that. I have several other paying guests. The whole second floor is leased out, in fact.”
“You will evict them, of course.”
“Humph. That’s a two-month process.”
Shaddar snaps his fingers and gestures with his tentacles to Toothsnatcher. “No, that’s a two-minute process.” The beast lumbers up the stairs and follows the orders Shaddar has given him at once.
The barkeep pales as the sounds of the minotaur’s work is clearly heard through the floor. “Get your things and get out!” “No, I don’t think so.” POW! “Aaiiee! I’m going! I’m going!” ROAR!!! “Mist demons! What is it? Oh, no!” “Find a new place to live! It’s movin’ day!” There is crying, wailing, and running about. In a stunningly short span of time rumpled-looking and weeping guests are rushing down the stairs, their arms filled with what belongings the minotaur allowed them to snatch up. One of them has a nasty black eye that is swollen shut already. The barkeep is very frightened, but has no idea how to respond. Jorin and Bort are shocked as well, but don’t want to get involved in this.
The last tenant can be heard barricading his room. “I’ll never leave! You can’t make me go!” The sound of a door being ripped off its hinges is the inevitable result. This is followed by what sounds like the tenant being dragged, kicking against the floorboards and screaming across the room. Everyone’s eyes except for Shaddar’s stare at the ceiling and follow the sounds towards the front of the building.
There is a dramatic pause of three seconds time when no sounds are heard at all, except for Bort swallowing nervously.
With a horrific crash the poor man is thrown right through the upstairs window! He lands heavily in the street, glass and the window frame fragments falling around him like rain. Moaning softly, he slowly crawls away from the meadhall as the minotaur throws some of his belongings out of the window on top of him.
A few moments later, Toothsnatcher comes stomping back downstairs, cracking his neck to one side with a grunt. It snorts happily and sits back down.
“You see?” Shaddar says in a kind tone, “A little friendly encouragement can solve so many problems!”
“That damage is coming out of your deposit,” grumbles the barkeep weakly.
“That will be fine.” A pile of coins is pushed towards the man without counting or bothering to ask what the rate will be. The barkeep is more than a bit cowed by the violence and the casual manner Shaddar treats such a sum of gold.
“Well, what about references? What kind of people am I renting to? More like Jorin and Bort and you lot?”
“No, they aren’t. And you will not need references. They are my guests and that is all the reference that they will require. You will be civil to them.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes…”
The minotaur stands up so suddenly that his chair flies back and hits the wall. His neck muscles are taut and straining, a low growl is reverberating in his throat, and both fists are clenched.
“Oh,” Hawke says feebly.
“Any further questions?”
“No, sir.”
“A wise answer.”
The minotaur sits back down in another chair, somewhat disappointed.
Shaddar turns to Jorin and Bort. “Report!” The two men jump a bit at this and tell about their activities as fast as they are able.
“Yes, Boss!”
“Right away, sir! We told everyone that we knew and they could hardly believe it –”
“But when we showed them the blood –“
“Yeah, the blood,” Bort nods with a smile.
Jorin smiles as well as he continues, “Yeah, that was very convincing. Our descriptions of the scene of horror practically turned their hair white! The news will spread like wildfire about the shocking behavior of the Guild of Villains and our new Guild that will soon replace them.”
“Yes, the Swashbuckling Rogues will soon be in charge of the slums, we said,” Bort adds.
“The Swashbuckling Rogues will return the city to its even keel and return to the old ways, we told them. Folks were really excited,” Jorin finishes with a gasp. Both men look at Shaddar hopefully, a bit nervous that he will not be pleased with their report. Their fear is powerful, but Shaddar decides to use the carrot to cement their proper behavior. This time.
“You have done well. Four and a half of percent.”
Hooray! The men celebrate their windfall with each other and begin looking over the loot. It is clear from their thoughts that they never dreamed that their place in the New Guild would be so lucrative.
“Hawke! Give us a bottle of the ‘good stuff’!”
“Pay yer tab and I will.” This takes but a moment, and then the wine begins to flow!
“How did you get all this?” Bort asks Shaddar, counting coins and sorting jewels.
“If you must know, my minions performed daring acts of Swashbuckling Roguery as I instructed them to.”
“Wow! Do you think you could teach us how to do that someday, Boss?”
“Stay in my good graces and all things are possible…”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 10 Chapter 12 >
He claimed to be one of the Lords of the city before he left the brothel. The mixture of shock and veneration he was then shown was fascinating to behold. The madam tripped all over herself in vacillating between horror that one of the Lords of the city would utilize at her establishment and an innate respect that bordered on worship to be in his presence. He told the facility to send him a bill for his distasteful and shocking requests at the city center. More antagonism and slander for those who run this city!
A couple of men stumble out of the meadhall as it comes into sight. Their hair is standing on end and their clothes are smoking slightly. It looks like they have been electrocuted – perhaps by Loolipo’s electrified pincher staff? How comical they look!
Shaddar laughs softly to himself as he enters the Jester and Hawk Meadhall. He picks up on the barkeeps thoughts as he shuts the door, “Curse these new friends of Jorin and Bort! They are driving away all my regular patrons! On purpose!”
Loolipo is indeed already there, twirling her pincher staff with a smirk on her face. She reports at once. Her slanders were so vile that when she told people what she would say they refused to hire her. Eventually she found some customers who didn’t want to know what she would say and she so enraged her victims that one drew his sword at her and she had to disarm him. Everyone who heard her repeat her vile stories were shocked and many tried to get her to stop talking. In every case she told the shocked hearers what guild she worked for and who had employed her. She did not earn very much money.
“What did you say to so enrage them?” Shaddar questions.
“I spoke of how the target has a nasty rotting-flesh disease and that they were an incurable carrier of it. I would then describe what their skin looked like and say that I only discovered this because the fellow tried to take advantage of me in a dark alley with his clothes removed. I would say: ‘I barely escaped with my chastity intact!’ and the peoples would go all quiet and open-mouthy. It was funny, master.”
The door slams open and Cutt enters the tavern with a huge smile on his face. He looks like he has had the most wonderful day.
“Low hanging fruit! Low hanging fruit – everywhere! Ha-ha-ha! It was joyous!” He dumps a large purse filled with coins onto the table as he continues, “A very tidy haul! I worked quickly and insulted the big folk into stunned disbelief. Ha!”
Shaddar is pleased, but would know more details. “And were their reactions indicative of a weak tolerance for insults in general?”
“I almost felt guilty it was so easy. I would insult grown men and they would start crying like little girls. Many of my victims actually fainted! But here is the best part: When I reported back to those who sent me to insult their enemies they were horrified at my report to them and every last mother’s son instantly rushed off to apologize! Such foolishness!”
Shaddar is quite pleased. The disorder that his thrall’s actions will certainly cause is clear from the stunned reactions they are reporting. They hear the clomp of the hooves of a huge and heavy beast and all of them turn to the still-open door.
Toothsnatcher enters the meadhall looking like he has been attacked by the contents of a clothing shop. His back is loaded with rude sacks made from knotted shirts and trousers, bulging with swag. The minotaur kicks the door shut with one foot and then rolls the massive collection off his shoulders and it bangs loudly on the floor.
“Good pickin’s!” he says with a cruel voice.
The minotaur gleefully tells stories of how his afternoon went as they open the sacks and begin to sort the loot. He uses a falsetto tone of voice to mimic the words of some of his victims and pauses often to snort with bovine laughter.
“There was really only three kinds of marks. First you had: ’Oh, no thank you. I don’t want a mugging…’ POW!” The minotaur smacks his huge fist into the other hand with a meaty sound, “Then there was: ‘Alright, here’s your coin, villain, now be on your way. What? No, you can’t have the rest of them!’ POW!” again the fist strikes, “But mostly it was like this: ‘Take it all! Please don’t hurt me! Oh, no!’ POW!”
He chortles with pleasure at the fun he has had crunching humans. Every victim (that was still conscious) got told that it was the Swashbuckling Rogues who had relieved them of their possessions and ended their pain-free day. All of the loot is sorted and piled onto the tables of the meadhall as he tells his tales, covering them almost completely with items, clothing, wigs, jewels, and piles and piles of coins.
Coinage is very strange here. Shaddar has never seen anything like it. The coins are hexagon in shape and of different sizes depending on the value of the metal the coin is cast from. He has seen coins from many of the surface lands, but he must be far from home indeed to have never seen any like these before.
The barkeep is horrified at these stories and the proof of them in his thoughts, but says nothing. “I’ve never heard such horrors! Worse than the Guild of Villains ever was! I can’t believe it! Can’t show any fear at all, though. I learned that much living with villains before. I only have to wait: the Heroes will soon hear of this and sort their hash out. A Guild of Rogues indeed…”
Last to arrive is Jorin and Bort. The thralls stop sharing their tales once they arrive on the immediate mental orders of Shaddar.
“We had such a successful day! Look at all the gold we go-“ Jorin stops mid-sentence as he stares at the mounds of riches in the inn with a small purse sitting in one palm.
“Oh, my word!”
Shaddar sweeps a hand at the haul, “Four percent!” Jorin and Bort’s eyes light up with greed.
The barkeep shouts out, “Good! Rent’s due!”
Shaddar turns to Hawke. “Yes. I needed to speak to you about that. You’ll be renting the entire building to me for at least the next month.”
“But I can’t do that. I have several other paying guests. The whole second floor is leased out, in fact.”
“You will evict them, of course.”
“Humph. That’s a two-month process.”
Shaddar snaps his fingers and gestures with his tentacles to Toothsnatcher. “No, that’s a two-minute process.” The beast lumbers up the stairs and follows the orders Shaddar has given him at once.
The barkeep pales as the sounds of the minotaur’s work is clearly heard through the floor. “Get your things and get out!” “No, I don’t think so.” POW! “Aaiiee! I’m going! I’m going!” ROAR!!! “Mist demons! What is it? Oh, no!” “Find a new place to live! It’s movin’ day!” There is crying, wailing, and running about. In a stunningly short span of time rumpled-looking and weeping guests are rushing down the stairs, their arms filled with what belongings the minotaur allowed them to snatch up. One of them has a nasty black eye that is swollen shut already. The barkeep is very frightened, but has no idea how to respond. Jorin and Bort are shocked as well, but don’t want to get involved in this.
The last tenant can be heard barricading his room. “I’ll never leave! You can’t make me go!” The sound of a door being ripped off its hinges is the inevitable result. This is followed by what sounds like the tenant being dragged, kicking against the floorboards and screaming across the room. Everyone’s eyes except for Shaddar’s stare at the ceiling and follow the sounds towards the front of the building.
There is a dramatic pause of three seconds time when no sounds are heard at all, except for Bort swallowing nervously.
With a horrific crash the poor man is thrown right through the upstairs window! He lands heavily in the street, glass and the window frame fragments falling around him like rain. Moaning softly, he slowly crawls away from the meadhall as the minotaur throws some of his belongings out of the window on top of him.
A few moments later, Toothsnatcher comes stomping back downstairs, cracking his neck to one side with a grunt. It snorts happily and sits back down.
“You see?” Shaddar says in a kind tone, “A little friendly encouragement can solve so many problems!”
“That damage is coming out of your deposit,” grumbles the barkeep weakly.
“That will be fine.” A pile of coins is pushed towards the man without counting or bothering to ask what the rate will be. The barkeep is more than a bit cowed by the violence and the casual manner Shaddar treats such a sum of gold.
“Well, what about references? What kind of people am I renting to? More like Jorin and Bort and you lot?”
“No, they aren’t. And you will not need references. They are my guests and that is all the reference that they will require. You will be civil to them.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes…”
The minotaur stands up so suddenly that his chair flies back and hits the wall. His neck muscles are taut and straining, a low growl is reverberating in his throat, and both fists are clenched.
“Oh,” Hawke says feebly.
“Any further questions?”
“No, sir.”
“A wise answer.”
The minotaur sits back down in another chair, somewhat disappointed.
Shaddar turns to Jorin and Bort. “Report!” The two men jump a bit at this and tell about their activities as fast as they are able.
“Yes, Boss!”
“Right away, sir! We told everyone that we knew and they could hardly believe it –”
“But when we showed them the blood –“
“Yeah, the blood,” Bort nods with a smile.
Jorin smiles as well as he continues, “Yeah, that was very convincing. Our descriptions of the scene of horror practically turned their hair white! The news will spread like wildfire about the shocking behavior of the Guild of Villains and our new Guild that will soon replace them.”
“Yes, the Swashbuckling Rogues will soon be in charge of the slums, we said,” Bort adds.
“The Swashbuckling Rogues will return the city to its even keel and return to the old ways, we told them. Folks were really excited,” Jorin finishes with a gasp. Both men look at Shaddar hopefully, a bit nervous that he will not be pleased with their report. Their fear is powerful, but Shaddar decides to use the carrot to cement their proper behavior. This time.
“You have done well. Four and a half of percent.”
Hooray! The men celebrate their windfall with each other and begin looking over the loot. It is clear from their thoughts that they never dreamed that their place in the New Guild would be so lucrative.
“Hawke! Give us a bottle of the ‘good stuff’!”
“Pay yer tab and I will.” This takes but a moment, and then the wine begins to flow!
“How did you get all this?” Bort asks Shaddar, counting coins and sorting jewels.
“If you must know, my minions performed daring acts of Swashbuckling Roguery as I instructed them to.”
“Wow! Do you think you could teach us how to do that someday, Boss?”
“Stay in my good graces and all things are possible…”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 10 Chapter 12 >
Crossover - Chapter 10
As Shaddar walks through the alleys of the border zone he contemplates the glimpse he had of the streets earlier. The architecture and even stone color were quite different from the border zone. It was white stone, with many fine bas relief carvings set into the walls that he saw there. Nothing like the plain, drab, brown stonework of the border zones. No ornamentation has been done here, and hardly anything resembling landmarks either.
“Will the slums also be designed to a different visual style of their own?” he wonders.
His postulating is intruded upon by reality as he turns a corner and walks to the edge of what can only be the slums.
The area before him is built on a massive scale. The streets are at least 30-feet wide, making the roads more like a continuous marketplace with clusters of buildings evenly spaced throughout it. The buildings do indeed have a different style than the other areas of Big City that Shaddar has seen thus far. It is quite gothic, with spires, spikes, and leering gargoyles on the top of every roof. Iron lampposts run along both sides of the road with a wire basket at the top of each one in the shape of a dragon. He can see that there is a magical flame burning inside each of these wire dragons to light the area. The lamps create flickering and nefarious-looking shadows on the sides of the buildings. The stonework is a gray color for the most part, but some buildings are built using even darker stone. Shaddar notes with amazement that the more ‘wicked’ shops are located in these darker colored buildings.
“Do these people really need such a stark indicator to know that they have arrived at the wrong part of town? Are such blatant visual cues needed by humans?” Shaddar thinks that all of the books he has read about humans must be incorrect – they are much lower in intellect as a race than he believed possible.
The buildings are either low and dark-looking or tall and looming, with many different styles that all seem to harmonize with each other into a common theme. Shaddar does not think that this finely crafted, clean, and well-ordered area deserves to be called a slum. Perhaps this is just a title for the area?
The slums are bustling with activity and populace – quite unlike the almost deserted border zones. There are many people who are dressed in the gaudy finery of those who live in the streets that Shaddar saw earlier. They seem out-of-place here, their bright colors and fine jewels are garish and glaring. Those who live in the slums are equally obvious: dull earth-tone colors, leather pants, squinty eyes, and radical hairstyles. But there are also people dressed completely in black clothes, with capes held in one hand to cover their faces, walking with a hunched over posture, their eyes darting back and forth furtively. “They must be members of the Guild,” Shaddar thinks dryly, “because they look like villains. This place is unbelievable!”
All of the store fronts that face the border zone are shops that cater directly to visitors from the streets. There are several pubs of various levels of quality and roughness, if their names and outer appearance is to be an indicator and Shaddar has quickly come to the conclusion that they must be. There is a dancing hall with uproarious music. An open-air jail where visitors are throwing rotten fruit at the criminals in their squalid cells. As Shaddar watches, one of the ‘criminals’ opens the cell and goes inside a pub, setting out a sign that reads, “On break, be back in a flash!”
On every corner there is some kind of activity. A mugging service that looks like the one Jorin and Bort were running. Street performers of a vulgar nature (madman juggling severed heads and flaming skulls – quite clearly an illusion, since his hands don’t seem to sync up with the movement of the heads). A freak show with a troll in a wicker cage out front. The monster looks nothing like a real troll – it looks like an illusion made by someone who has heard of trolls, but has never seen one. It looks softer and weaker with rounded teeth and claws and a docile look on its face. It growls very unconvincingly at passers by.
Shaddar steps into the throng and samples the thoughts of those around him.
“Is that thing a villain?”
“Whoever thought that would be a good show needs his head examined.”
“Not a bad day’s work. 3 gold and 27 silver.”
“This part of town needs to be burned down. It’s terrible what they do here!”
“Shocking! This is shocking! Ooo! What’s that over there? Horrors!”
“That’s right you street-fool… Gamble your gold right into my purse.”
“Hideous!”
“Who is under that disguise, I wonder? Feenil, perhaps?”
“Disturbing indeed, what men will do for coin.”
Amusing. Shaddar’s tentacles writhe with interest at the utter naivete of these people. Many of the folks from the streets are here for the express purpose of acting shocked and indignant at the openly evil ways of the slums and its denizens. The locals on the other hand are just putting on a show and profiting thereby.
“This town… It is just odd. Why do these people act in this manner? How is it that such things can retain their power to shock the citizens over time? And if there are truly corrupt folk in the Guild of Villains, why do they not take advantage of the simpletons who live in the streets?”
He begins to walk down the road with the throngs of people. Although there are many travelers, they do not congest the street due to the wideness of the road. He takes in more sights, looking for patterns. He is hoping to find one pattern in particular.
There are some sinister-looking fellows with scars and missing teeth who are hawking a fisticuffs match. They promise that the match will be bloody and violent to the horror of those visiting from the streets. Others try to direct people to shops were stolen goods can be purchased for cheap – the best fences in town! Restaurants have signs proclaiming that they specialize in ‘illegal dishes’ and ‘pure gluttony’. Men and women lurk in alcoves with blue caps, whispering that should any want to sample unspeakable vices, they can direct them to the best places.
“There we are,” he thinks with satisfaction, “just what I was looking for.”
Shaddar approaches the nearest fellow in a blue cap. The man looks around and whispers, “Who’s under there? Are you a villain or just in disguise?”
Shaddar puts on an act and whines, “I need your services, but I am a fellow of a… certain persuasion. I have very specific demands that must be met. Can you help me?”
“Of course we can, sir.”
“I’m not so sure. I’ve been to every establishment in town and none can help me! I’m getting desperate!’
The man begins to look a bit less sure of himself. “Your tastes are such that you feel you need to hide who you are with this illusion, sir? And other facilities have turned you away because of your requests?”
“Indeed! And once I tell you what I want, you’ll know why. I want…”
The man’s face screws up in distaste. “No, no, no! I don’t want to hear any more about it then! I just direct people to the establishment, I don’t want to get tainted by any of your unnatural stories.” He shudders visibly while thinking, “I’ve got to get another job – this is too harsh on my delicate sensibilities. I feel sticky just talking to this fellow. Eww.”
With obvious disgust, the man gives Shaddar directions to what he assumes will be a brothel.
The color-coding continues as the house that Shaddar comes to is painted the darkest black, but with a bright blue door. As if to tell every passerby that this building is a most evil facility. Shaking his head, Shaddar enters.
The madam greets him. “Yes, can I help you, sir? Or is it, ma’am?”
Shaddar decides to see if this facility is also just an act and tries to shock the lady in the low-cut gown. “It won’t matter.” She blinks in confusion and concern. “I require your assistance. This is the last brothel in the city that I have tried – all others have turned me away unfulfilled! No one will cater to my specific needs!”
She looks very concerned, “What are your needs, sir?”
“I require… in a very private setting… no less than three lumpys.”
The woman grabs the wall to keep herself upright as she gasps, “Lumpys?” with a shaky and revolted voice. Her face loses its pallor and turns a slight greenish tint.
“Don’t judge me!” Shaddar loudly proclaims. “Can you help me or not? I will pay five times your normal rate.”
“I… I…” the woman’s eyes come back into focus as she calculates the price of such a request, “I’m sure we can come to some sort of accommodation, sir.”
“Good. And there would be a substantial bonus in it for you personally if there is also a palehair present.”
At this the woman holds up one hand and bolts from the room. Shaddar is amazed to hear her heave noisily in the other room.
“Even those who should be desensitized to such things are so easily shocked!” he thinks.
The madam returns with a sheen of perspiration on her upper lip and forehead. She speaks in a voice barely audible, refusing to look into Shaddar’s face. “If you’ll just wait here, I’ll make the arrangements. It may take some time as this is not a normal request.”
It takes 45 minutes before she returns. With the air of one who is not happy with herself she says, “It is arranged. Right this way.”
Shaddar is shown into a room that has three hobgoblins, one of whom is male, and a drow woman. All of them are dressed in shabby clothes and look beaten down, standing in the center of the room. As soon as the door is shut Shaddar locks it and waits for the madam to move out of earshot before he turns to face them again.
The drow speaks, “Sir. We have been instructed to serve you.”
Shaddar moves to a chair and sits. “How would you like to serve me… forever? You could work for me, call me master, and be richly rewarded. And respected! Instead of serving this human filth! They walk all over you!”
“I don’t understand…”
“You are of a greater race! A noble people! How can you suffer such indignities at the hands of your inferiors?”
“I don’t know what you speak of, sir!” says the drow with clear distress in her voice, “We are blessed to live in the city! To have such comforts provided to us by the Lords of the city! Their kindness grants us useful work, food, and shelter when they should ignore us utterly. Because of our transgressions we must serve this establishment, but that is because of our own bad choices.” Shaddar is stunned to see that she really believes this nonsense!
“Know you nothing of your heritage? Your people’s history? You are not a race of servants – but a proud, capable, and fierce people!”
“What?” The drow woman is very upset – on the verge of tears, in fact. She has no idea what Shaddar is talking about. She is flummoxed and is searching in vain for some sort of context for the things he is saying to her.
Shaddar wonders how the drow in this city were so thoroughly enslaved. Were all the adults in a drow city killed and the children raised here in ignorance? What kind of an enemy did he face if they had such means as erasing the full history of the drow race from their children?
He tries a different tack with the hobgoblins. “And you! How would you like to be the new Lords of the city?” One of the hobgoblin women puts her hands over her ears in shock. “Surely you have felt the primal urges that are rooted in your animalistic nature? You can be conquers! Leaders! Rulers! Not cleaners of streets! Look at these weak humans around you – can you tell me that you do not feel that you are destined for more than doing their bidding? Are you not destined for greatness?”
The hobgoblins look like he has slapped them. The male thinks, “The greatness that I hope for is an extra helping of gruel.”
Shaddar is happy to make some kind of progress. “I can work with that.”
He continues. “How would you like to be in a whole room full of gruel? What am I saying? Forget gruel! You could feast on fine foods, fresh fruits, wine, and roasted meat!” The hobgoblin’s eyes all perk up at this idea and their heads begin to nod.
Shaddar turns to the drow and reads her thoughts – she wishes for better clothes. So to her he says: “I can provide you with closets full of fine clothes!”
“I could have a closet? Oh, that would be lovely to have my own little place…”
“No! You could have a closet in your own mansion! There is plenty of finery to be had for ornamentation and clothing! I can provide such things! For all of you.”
After a moment of dreamy longing, the drow shakes her head, “You are saying such mad things, sir! I do not understand how any of it could be true. And your countenance is one of a villain. Are you but tormenting us for your pleasure? Surely it must be so, because what you say makes no sense!”
“It doesn’t have to make sense. You only need to believe and I can make these things happen. I can improve your station this very day!” Shaddar uses his mental powers to suggest to them that they should believe him because of his convincing arguments and powerful resources.
“What do you need us to do so that we can have these great blessings?”
“Speak to your friends, family members, and leaders of what I offering. Bring some of your people to The Jester and Hawk Meadhall.”
“But that’s a person place. We’re not allowed – “
“You will be welcome there for as long as I am! Come! Bring those that you can convince and meet me there tonight! I will give the gifts I have promised at that time to each of you and to those that you bring.”
They are convinced and bow towards him with respect.
“And thus I will begin to build up an army,” Shaddar thinks with glee, “already inside the walls of the city.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 9 Chapter 11 >
“Will the slums also be designed to a different visual style of their own?” he wonders.
His postulating is intruded upon by reality as he turns a corner and walks to the edge of what can only be the slums.
The area before him is built on a massive scale. The streets are at least 30-feet wide, making the roads more like a continuous marketplace with clusters of buildings evenly spaced throughout it. The buildings do indeed have a different style than the other areas of Big City that Shaddar has seen thus far. It is quite gothic, with spires, spikes, and leering gargoyles on the top of every roof. Iron lampposts run along both sides of the road with a wire basket at the top of each one in the shape of a dragon. He can see that there is a magical flame burning inside each of these wire dragons to light the area. The lamps create flickering and nefarious-looking shadows on the sides of the buildings. The stonework is a gray color for the most part, but some buildings are built using even darker stone. Shaddar notes with amazement that the more ‘wicked’ shops are located in these darker colored buildings.
“Do these people really need such a stark indicator to know that they have arrived at the wrong part of town? Are such blatant visual cues needed by humans?” Shaddar thinks that all of the books he has read about humans must be incorrect – they are much lower in intellect as a race than he believed possible.
The buildings are either low and dark-looking or tall and looming, with many different styles that all seem to harmonize with each other into a common theme. Shaddar does not think that this finely crafted, clean, and well-ordered area deserves to be called a slum. Perhaps this is just a title for the area?
The slums are bustling with activity and populace – quite unlike the almost deserted border zones. There are many people who are dressed in the gaudy finery of those who live in the streets that Shaddar saw earlier. They seem out-of-place here, their bright colors and fine jewels are garish and glaring. Those who live in the slums are equally obvious: dull earth-tone colors, leather pants, squinty eyes, and radical hairstyles. But there are also people dressed completely in black clothes, with capes held in one hand to cover their faces, walking with a hunched over posture, their eyes darting back and forth furtively. “They must be members of the Guild,” Shaddar thinks dryly, “because they look like villains. This place is unbelievable!”
All of the store fronts that face the border zone are shops that cater directly to visitors from the streets. There are several pubs of various levels of quality and roughness, if their names and outer appearance is to be an indicator and Shaddar has quickly come to the conclusion that they must be. There is a dancing hall with uproarious music. An open-air jail where visitors are throwing rotten fruit at the criminals in their squalid cells. As Shaddar watches, one of the ‘criminals’ opens the cell and goes inside a pub, setting out a sign that reads, “On break, be back in a flash!”
On every corner there is some kind of activity. A mugging service that looks like the one Jorin and Bort were running. Street performers of a vulgar nature (madman juggling severed heads and flaming skulls – quite clearly an illusion, since his hands don’t seem to sync up with the movement of the heads). A freak show with a troll in a wicker cage out front. The monster looks nothing like a real troll – it looks like an illusion made by someone who has heard of trolls, but has never seen one. It looks softer and weaker with rounded teeth and claws and a docile look on its face. It growls very unconvincingly at passers by.
Shaddar steps into the throng and samples the thoughts of those around him.
“Is that thing a villain?”
“Whoever thought that would be a good show needs his head examined.”
“Not a bad day’s work. 3 gold and 27 silver.”
“This part of town needs to be burned down. It’s terrible what they do here!”
“Shocking! This is shocking! Ooo! What’s that over there? Horrors!”
“That’s right you street-fool… Gamble your gold right into my purse.”
“Hideous!”
“Who is under that disguise, I wonder? Feenil, perhaps?”
“Disturbing indeed, what men will do for coin.”
Amusing. Shaddar’s tentacles writhe with interest at the utter naivete of these people. Many of the folks from the streets are here for the express purpose of acting shocked and indignant at the openly evil ways of the slums and its denizens. The locals on the other hand are just putting on a show and profiting thereby.
“This town… It is just odd. Why do these people act in this manner? How is it that such things can retain their power to shock the citizens over time? And if there are truly corrupt folk in the Guild of Villains, why do they not take advantage of the simpletons who live in the streets?”
He begins to walk down the road with the throngs of people. Although there are many travelers, they do not congest the street due to the wideness of the road. He takes in more sights, looking for patterns. He is hoping to find one pattern in particular.
There are some sinister-looking fellows with scars and missing teeth who are hawking a fisticuffs match. They promise that the match will be bloody and violent to the horror of those visiting from the streets. Others try to direct people to shops were stolen goods can be purchased for cheap – the best fences in town! Restaurants have signs proclaiming that they specialize in ‘illegal dishes’ and ‘pure gluttony’. Men and women lurk in alcoves with blue caps, whispering that should any want to sample unspeakable vices, they can direct them to the best places.
“There we are,” he thinks with satisfaction, “just what I was looking for.”
Shaddar approaches the nearest fellow in a blue cap. The man looks around and whispers, “Who’s under there? Are you a villain or just in disguise?”
Shaddar puts on an act and whines, “I need your services, but I am a fellow of a… certain persuasion. I have very specific demands that must be met. Can you help me?”
“Of course we can, sir.”
“I’m not so sure. I’ve been to every establishment in town and none can help me! I’m getting desperate!’
The man begins to look a bit less sure of himself. “Your tastes are such that you feel you need to hide who you are with this illusion, sir? And other facilities have turned you away because of your requests?”
“Indeed! And once I tell you what I want, you’ll know why. I want…”
The man’s face screws up in distaste. “No, no, no! I don’t want to hear any more about it then! I just direct people to the establishment, I don’t want to get tainted by any of your unnatural stories.” He shudders visibly while thinking, “I’ve got to get another job – this is too harsh on my delicate sensibilities. I feel sticky just talking to this fellow. Eww.”
With obvious disgust, the man gives Shaddar directions to what he assumes will be a brothel.
The color-coding continues as the house that Shaddar comes to is painted the darkest black, but with a bright blue door. As if to tell every passerby that this building is a most evil facility. Shaking his head, Shaddar enters.
The madam greets him. “Yes, can I help you, sir? Or is it, ma’am?”
Shaddar decides to see if this facility is also just an act and tries to shock the lady in the low-cut gown. “It won’t matter.” She blinks in confusion and concern. “I require your assistance. This is the last brothel in the city that I have tried – all others have turned me away unfulfilled! No one will cater to my specific needs!”
She looks very concerned, “What are your needs, sir?”
“I require… in a very private setting… no less than three lumpys.”
The woman grabs the wall to keep herself upright as she gasps, “Lumpys?” with a shaky and revolted voice. Her face loses its pallor and turns a slight greenish tint.
“Don’t judge me!” Shaddar loudly proclaims. “Can you help me or not? I will pay five times your normal rate.”
“I… I…” the woman’s eyes come back into focus as she calculates the price of such a request, “I’m sure we can come to some sort of accommodation, sir.”
“Good. And there would be a substantial bonus in it for you personally if there is also a palehair present.”
At this the woman holds up one hand and bolts from the room. Shaddar is amazed to hear her heave noisily in the other room.
“Even those who should be desensitized to such things are so easily shocked!” he thinks.
The madam returns with a sheen of perspiration on her upper lip and forehead. She speaks in a voice barely audible, refusing to look into Shaddar’s face. “If you’ll just wait here, I’ll make the arrangements. It may take some time as this is not a normal request.”
It takes 45 minutes before she returns. With the air of one who is not happy with herself she says, “It is arranged. Right this way.”
Shaddar is shown into a room that has three hobgoblins, one of whom is male, and a drow woman. All of them are dressed in shabby clothes and look beaten down, standing in the center of the room. As soon as the door is shut Shaddar locks it and waits for the madam to move out of earshot before he turns to face them again.
The drow speaks, “Sir. We have been instructed to serve you.”
Shaddar moves to a chair and sits. “How would you like to serve me… forever? You could work for me, call me master, and be richly rewarded. And respected! Instead of serving this human filth! They walk all over you!”
“I don’t understand…”
“You are of a greater race! A noble people! How can you suffer such indignities at the hands of your inferiors?”
“I don’t know what you speak of, sir!” says the drow with clear distress in her voice, “We are blessed to live in the city! To have such comforts provided to us by the Lords of the city! Their kindness grants us useful work, food, and shelter when they should ignore us utterly. Because of our transgressions we must serve this establishment, but that is because of our own bad choices.” Shaddar is stunned to see that she really believes this nonsense!
“Know you nothing of your heritage? Your people’s history? You are not a race of servants – but a proud, capable, and fierce people!”
“What?” The drow woman is very upset – on the verge of tears, in fact. She has no idea what Shaddar is talking about. She is flummoxed and is searching in vain for some sort of context for the things he is saying to her.
Shaddar wonders how the drow in this city were so thoroughly enslaved. Were all the adults in a drow city killed and the children raised here in ignorance? What kind of an enemy did he face if they had such means as erasing the full history of the drow race from their children?
He tries a different tack with the hobgoblins. “And you! How would you like to be the new Lords of the city?” One of the hobgoblin women puts her hands over her ears in shock. “Surely you have felt the primal urges that are rooted in your animalistic nature? You can be conquers! Leaders! Rulers! Not cleaners of streets! Look at these weak humans around you – can you tell me that you do not feel that you are destined for more than doing their bidding? Are you not destined for greatness?”
The hobgoblins look like he has slapped them. The male thinks, “The greatness that I hope for is an extra helping of gruel.”
Shaddar is happy to make some kind of progress. “I can work with that.”
He continues. “How would you like to be in a whole room full of gruel? What am I saying? Forget gruel! You could feast on fine foods, fresh fruits, wine, and roasted meat!” The hobgoblin’s eyes all perk up at this idea and their heads begin to nod.
Shaddar turns to the drow and reads her thoughts – she wishes for better clothes. So to her he says: “I can provide you with closets full of fine clothes!”
“I could have a closet? Oh, that would be lovely to have my own little place…”
“No! You could have a closet in your own mansion! There is plenty of finery to be had for ornamentation and clothing! I can provide such things! For all of you.”
After a moment of dreamy longing, the drow shakes her head, “You are saying such mad things, sir! I do not understand how any of it could be true. And your countenance is one of a villain. Are you but tormenting us for your pleasure? Surely it must be so, because what you say makes no sense!”
“It doesn’t have to make sense. You only need to believe and I can make these things happen. I can improve your station this very day!” Shaddar uses his mental powers to suggest to them that they should believe him because of his convincing arguments and powerful resources.
“What do you need us to do so that we can have these great blessings?”
“Speak to your friends, family members, and leaders of what I offering. Bring some of your people to The Jester and Hawk Meadhall.”
“But that’s a person place. We’re not allowed – “
“You will be welcome there for as long as I am! Come! Bring those that you can convince and meet me there tonight! I will give the gifts I have promised at that time to each of you and to those that you bring.”
They are convinced and bow towards him with respect.
“And thus I will begin to build up an army,” Shaddar thinks with glee, “already inside the walls of the city.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 9 Chapter 11 >
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