They were going too slow. The Underdark tunnels are perilous at best, and even worse than the unknown horrors, they were behind schedule.
“Pick up d’pace!” Kazaromoc complained to the small band of duergar warriors and turned to the main problem of their tardiness. “Bah! Hurry up ye indolent rothe herders!” The goblin group flinched as Kazaromoc’s bare hand descended in a rough arc to backhand slap a lazy whelp, causing the unfortunate goblin’s head to turn 180° with a sharp crack. The others, taking the hint, took up the fallen corpse’s load and shuffled even faster under their heavy burdens of precious metals.
The party jogged down the dark twisting corridors of the Underdark until they came as close to Menzoberrranzan as they dared to. “From here we walk, no unnecessary talking.” Commanded the squat and ugly sergeant as he appointed two fresh scouts.
“Why d’we need t’mine so far from Gloomhaven anyway?” grumbled a Lieutenant with an unusually short beard.
“Quiet!” hissed the officer as he leveled a kick to the offending dwarf’s back, which failed to do any harm through the suit of chainmail, but got the group moving once again.
A few hours later, Kazaromoc paused to rub his baldhead. A tattoo of the holy symbol of Laduguer, consisting of a broken bolt upon a shield, was tingling the white skin of his scalp. Signaling a halt with a raised fist, he leaned over to whisper into the Sergeant’s right ear. “Have d’scouts reported in?”
“Nay, an they be over due.”
“We canna afford to diminish our number.”
“Aye.” Un-strapping the bearded single bladed axe from his back, he motioned the soldiers to spread out and stay alert.
Subtlety was not needed however, as an agonizing scream ricocheted about the tunnel, accompanied by a shimmering wall of force that knocked everyone to the floor. Scrambling to their feet, the duerger warriors locked themselves into a solid stance and faced whatever was coming with stoic composure.
The thing, for a dark elf possessing tentacles could only be called a thing, stumbled into the passage, collided with the wall, and sank to its knees.
“Wha is that?” a soldier managed to ask before his head exploded, painting those behind him with red mist and brain-matter. Panicking, the goblins dropped their burdens and fled, tripping each other in their haste to escape the burgeoning battle. The battle-hardened duerger, who didn’t care what it was, got over their surprise quickly, and advanced. The thing rose to what they guessed were feet, and gesturing like swatting a fly, it sent a wave of metal energy crashing upon its victims. To their credit, few screamed, but unseeing eyes rolled back as the lifeless and rapidly cooling corpses tumbled to the tunnel floor. Kazaromoc rose to a knee and shook the dizziness from his head. The thing, now greatly resembling an illithid, convulsed with spasms and banged its head upon the tunnel wall, giving the cleric enough time to complete his healing spell. The illithid sank to its knees, leaving a wet streak of dark skin and flesh.
Taking advantage of his opponents’ apparent state of weakness, Kazaromoc chanted the most powerful of his few offensive spells. Upon finishing the last syllable, the full harm spell tore into the illithid, creating lesions in the creature’s soft hide. Blood oozed into a crimson pool.
Kazaromoc displayed a mouth full of sharp teeth as he grinned broadly, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. His pragmatic mind, no longer focused on danger, turned to the resurrection of his fellow duerger.
‘So, you were strong enough to resist my mind blast’ came a soft voice inside the priest’s head. Kazaromoc drew his mace and spun to his left, launching out in a vicious swing that impacted the illithid’s head with a loud clang. The unhurt illithid seemed to exude mirth.
‘You cannot harm me, we are in your mind, and here I rule.’
“Who are you?”
The illithid pause for a heartbeat. ‘My name is unimportant. You will call me Master.’
“My only master is the God Laduguer!”
Kazaromoc began a chant only to crumple in agony. He rolled around in pain, thrashing and kicking. A long shill scream escaped his lungs.
‘Submit’
“…”
‘Submit’
Kazaromoc whimpered.
‘SUBMIT’
The broken priest nodded. “Yes master.”
‘Kiss the hem of my robe.’
‘Why shouldn’t I? It’s a nice robe, worthy of my master’s regard,’ Kazaromoc thought as he brought the robe to his lips.
The tunnel walls closed in upon him and the former-priest rose to his feet. Psionic laughter filled the tunnels.
En-thrawlling (part 1)
En-thrawlling (part 1)
-Kaz-
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