Dark City

Pulling themselves back together, the Fae Mhor warband made greater speed after that, heading through the passages until they reached the shores of a great lake.

Sack ranged out on his own, tracking a Fae Mhor scout with the intent of killing him; he fancied a handy chasm to push the dark elf into; but when one materialized and he was already poised to strike, something attracted his victim's attention. Across the chasm, a humanoid figure was lurking in the shadows. Otherwise motionless, a strange suggestion of movement around its' face hinted at some basic inhumanity. Taking advantage, Sack struck, Bloodfang sinking deep into the scout's back and slaying him instantly. As the body dropped, Sack felt a voice in his head, though there was no sound, and "heard" strangely-accented laughter as the silhouette across the chasm backed away into the shadows. Puzzled, Sack retraced his steps to return to shadowwing the main group.

Back with the warband, Surya was questioning the beautiful Silustriana about the wisdom of whittling down her fighting force with sacrifice; she saw no problems, and suggested that if the sacrifices were pleasing to Lolth, she would aid the survivors with the strength to prevail. Surya then alluded to possible difficulties that he and the others might have in discerning "friendly" Tormtors from opposing Fae Mhor should it come to a fight. Silustriana pointed out that - to her - a Despana and a Tormtor were quite different in appearance (to which Surya responded that "you all look alike to me"), and that all wore pins or brooches blazoned with house crest they served. Surya shrugged and showed he had little care for such details, then suggested with a cheeky grin that maybe Lolth would look favourably on him if he were to "accidentally" slay a "friendly" Fae Mhor or two. Silustriana smiled wickedly back. "She might well," she answered, "certainly your ...equipment... is worthy of offering sacrifice with," clearly referring to the damnéd blade Tormentor as she said this. Surya was intrigued. "Would you teach me more about Lolth?" he asked ingeniously. "Of course," the priestess replied. Hildraft shook his head...

Moving around the shore of the lake, the band reached a wooden dock structure. Moored to it was a most peculiar vessel; cylindrical, and made of brazen plates, with a green glass domed window at the front, and a stubby turret on top.

Waiting near it were two strange creatures; no taller than Hildraft, but heavily cloaked in black and masked. Silustriana went up to them and started talking, clearly negotiating; as she did so, Launcivos explained to the surface dwellers that these were the Dark Boatmen, ferryers of all who wished to travel the Underdark. The different realms of the underground world were seperated by height and stone, but joined by mighty waterfalls (possibly artifically made if such a thing were possible). The Dark Boatmen would - for a price! - transport anyone anywhere within these islands of air within the ocean of stone. Because of this, they were inviolate and obsessively neutral. "Even the Aboleth don't cross the Dark Boatmen," said Launcivos, as if that should mean something.

The party embarked (along with the invisible Sack, who had no trouble secreting himself, as the vessel was easily big enough to carry ten such groups. Moving across the lake, it reached the chasm at the edge - and toppled onto the waterfall below.

Rushing down the face of the torrent, the ship submerged as the walls closed in. Despite the pace of the waterfall, the fallship itself moved at a controlled pace, and within half an hour emerged from the ceiling of another vast cavern.

Below, the travellers could see a vast lake, with here and there other mighty waterfalls plunging from the ceiling into its' surface. At the edges, more sinkholes were visible, with the water flowing into them, presumably at the top of falls leading further down.

This was Shadizaar, the Gateway Realm. Launcivos pointed out some of the falls, naming their destinations; Nindelvel, a private realm held by High Clan Kilsek; Barikha, stronghold of the Diruplec Ithilid cult; and Nindolen, their destination, stronghold of the Fae Mhor. It became apparent that, though other species lived here and there, the dominant force down here was the Fae Mhor themselves.

Settling gently into the lake, the Fallship made its' way across the surface of the lake, and slid into the shaft leading to Nindolen. This trip was a little longer, but finally the warband disembarked at the edge of the lake in the Nindolen cavern, and the surface visitors stepped out onto the lands of the Dark Elves.

Moving away from the shores, they found themselves travelling through strange but recognizable farmlands. True, the trees and crops were replaced by outcrops of peculiar glowing crystals and almost infinite varieties of fungi, but the function was clear.

The Fae Mhor handed out green overrobes to their guests. Surya looked at his suspiciously, but Silustriana assured him it was merely to prevent him being mistaken for a slave. Kobort confirmed it was not magical, and the surface dwellers donned them

After some time, a city became visible ahead of them. Dark, solid walls with strong towers enclosed it, and as they drew near the gatehouse, they could discern disquieting carvings of demons both facing out from the front and overlooking the archway leading in. Kobort was aware of enchantment radiating from them, and said so. Sack split off from the main group and went in over the wall instead, while the others passed in through the gates with the Fae Mhor.

Inside they found a bustling metropolis, alive with its' own unique character. Bugbears, troglydytes and Fae Mhor mixed with other, less familiar creatures, and here and there the occasional Duergar and Ithilid was visible. The sight of dark dwarves made Hildraft grind his teeth, but he stayed his hand for the moment. Leading them through the streets, Silustriana guided them to a house in the Ghetto of Foreigners, and informed them that this was for their use during their stay; Verdaeth, Matriach of High Clan Tormtor would meet with them in three days' time. She issued some basic guidance on what was inadvisable in the city, but appeared content to leave the visitors to wander the streets to their taste; presumably, if they proved unable to handle themselves here, they were not after all what she needed...

The Fae Mhor then departed, leaving the visitors to their own devices. Sack tagged along, hoping to follow them and possibly learn something interesting. Passing swiftly along the main street, the noble party passed through the north gate of the city (which, interestingly, appeared to have been designed to keep the inhabitants of the city out of the noble lands rather than protecting the city). This gate was massive, far stronger than the city gate, and dominated by a bas-relief of Lolth in her spider form. Sack didn't fancy the prospect of trying to pass this, invisible or not, and used his Spider Climb ring to climb the walls beside the gate instead.

On the far side, he found that a deep chasm seperated the upper lands from the city proper, with a narrow, arching bridge soaring up to join the two. The gatehouse wrapped around, making a dizzying climb, but confident in his magic, the half-orc made the attempt.

About half-way around, a clattering alarm shattered the tense quiet, and several dozen Fae Mhor appeared on the ramparts, bows readied, searching for any intruders. Sack hugged the wall below the crenellations, waiting for them to give up, and sure enough, having found nothing, they stood down. He waited an hour or so, then tried again - and again. Each time the same happened, and as far as he could see, there was no lessening of the vigilance of the guards. He could make it to the bridge if he pushed it; but with the start they'd had, he would never catch Silustriana and her party. He made his way back, taking the Thieves' Highway over the rooves. As he did so, he discovered slightly strange but unmistakable thief-sign; despite the differences, there was a Guild here.

Meanwhile, Surya and Hildraft had forayed out in search of entertainment. Strolling down the main street, they discovered a city alive with possibilities; bars, gambling dens, bordellos, and other pleasure-houses were in plentiful supply.

As they walked, they passed a group of nine bugbear mercenaries. As they did, Surya heard one say "... funny little human...." and the others all laughed. Drawing Tormentor, the Tellaran turned and challenged the creature, in the Fae Mhor tongue, to repeat this to his face.

The hairy bugbear, easily two feet taller than Surya, looked at him, his two-handed mace still resting easily on his shoulder. "Funny human wanna dance," it chuckled. With no further preamble, Surya lunged, and the damned blade lanced cleanly into the bugbear's eye, killing it instantly. It dropped with a crash, and the others immediately discovered that they didn't after all know this guy, no, not me, never seen him before... and were soon gone into the crowd.

No-one else had paid any attention at all....

Attracted by its' name, they approached an establishment called Gengar's Blade. The sign outside seemed to indicate some sort of martial show as well as refreshment; they decided to investigate.

Controlling the door was one of the most intimidating humanoids either of them had ever seen. Easily nine feet tall, and massively built, it glowered down at them and looked from one to the other. Its' maw opened, and a deep, gravelly voice rumbled at them.

"No trouble you can't finish," it recitied; clearly the customer credo for the joint. With no further preamble, it ushered them in.

Inside, they found the whole tavern to be cylindrical, with the patron areas occupying an outer ring around a central arena. Three floors of galleries contained bars, gambling, and prostitutes respectively. All were packed, with all manner of creatures talking, dealing, drinking, gambling, wenching, plotting, robbing and occasionally killing.

The central arena was a large combat pit. As they entered, the Tellaran and the Dwarf saw a fight was in progress, four orcs matched against a troll - a rare creature, which neither had ever seen before. Wagers were flying, and encouragement being shouted. Hildraft attracted some attention by calling encouragement to the troll in his own language; his choice was justified, for soon the troll had slain or maimed all of his foes and was declared the winner.

The next fight was between two Fae Mhor, clearly professional gladiators. Both were lightly armoured, and armed with slender, curved swords. The swordsmanship they exhibited was breathtaking; leaping, dancing and spinning, they battled back and forth for what seemed a very long time, lightning blades flicking splashes of blood from time to time. Finally, one of them missed a parry, and his opponent seized the opening; his sword sank into his foe's chest, and the loser folded over it, coughing blood onto the silver surface, before dropping to the sand.

The roars of approval seemed almost to lift the roof, and coins, trinkets and small magical items rained down into the arena. The master of ceremonies declared the gladiator - Tolcis - the winner, and he left the arena in triumph.

Several more acts followed, all generally bloody and cruel; but clearly some big finale was being built up to. Finally, the master of ceremonies announced the main entertainment, and - to huge cheers - introduced Drinbauth'veldriss, who turned out to be an Ithilid, or Mind Flayer.

The cheers that greeted his appearance were different to those for Tolcis; rather than full-throated roars of blood-lust, the crowd was now emitting growls and snarls, something deeper, and the tension was electric. Something significant was about to happen.

A table was wheeled in, with arm and leg shackles at the corners, and a wretched prisoner escorted to it by three guards. The noise of the crowd turned savage as he was strapped down, and Hildraft and Surya could see that he was an elf, of the Noldor kin. Once he was secured, the ilthilid moved close, and unrolled a black velvet pack to reveal a glttering array of shining metal instruments, all sharp, all cruel, all deadly.

The spectacle that followed was unspeakable. The miserable elf took nearly three hours to die, in the most incredible agony, and the watching Fae Mhor revelled in every second of it. As the final spark was extinguished, the torturer was applauded almost as much as Tolcis had been, though he seemed to care little for the plaudits. This ended the evening, and the emotionaly-drained crowd dispersed.

Hildraft and Surya headed back to the house, fighting against a strong desire to be sick.