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-- 8/6/6526 --
Aristobulus glared dismally around at the cold crates and stone walls
that surrounded him. To his heat-sensitive eyes, they appeared to be of
various shades of blue and violet. Again for the untold time he cursed
his ability to see infrared light. If not for that, he could leave his
eyes open and still be able to see nothing but darkness. As it was, he
could always see, even in the darkest of places where many other races
found their eyes useless. Never had he been in a place cold enough that
his eyes were able to see nothing.
Right now, he wanted to be left alone in darkness, to feel the true
solitude it bestowed -- a solitude he only knew from the descriptions of
humans and halflings, races whose eyes could not perceive heat and yet
remained unable to appreciate the wonderful bliss of total oblivion which
darkness granted. Aristo wanted nothing more than to experience that
complete lack of existence that came with darkness.
He had finally mastered his rage. Losing control of his emotions and
actions disgusted Aristo. The satisfaction of venting his anger and other
emotions on his surroundings was eclipsed by the feeling of having no
control over his own actions. If he had to live this cursed life, he
might as well have some say in what he course of actions he took. But
when his emotions overruled his reason, it only added to the displeasure
of Aristo's life. After such an experience, he was always gripped with
the deepest of depressions since it only reinforced the truth of how
little control Aristo had over his life.
Now, all that kept Ari trapped in this insufferable life was the
knowledge that he was in the one place where he might find some respite
from the agonies of existence, or in the least find a reason for all of
the torment living carried with it.
Finally drawing himself to his feet, Aristo leaned heavily upon his
spear, bowing under the weight of life. It was a burden he longed to cast
away. But still, if only barely, his curiosity won out and he persisted
in withstanding this misery. There was a chance he could find out what it
was all about. So many legends spoke of the lost wisdoms to be uncovered
in these endless caverns. If he could find some of them, they might just
make all of this worthwhile. However improbable, it was the chance he had
chosen to take.
Taking a deep breath, Aristo forced himself to stand unaided upon his
feet, standing defiantly against all that was against him. Though not yet
back to his old self, it was an improvement. He knew he needed to get out
of this all-too-familiar storage room, shake off his morbid contemplations
and get on with his explorations of these tunnels. Not only would it
distract him from his depression, but it would also bring him closer to
those ancient enlightenments he sought.
Aristo strode from the storage chamber and down the short passage to
where it bent to his left. On his right was a plain stone wall, but he
knew there to be a secret doorway in the wall. If he had once opened it
from the other side, then he should be able to do so again from this side.
After only a few moments, he found the false stone concealing the lever
that opened the door.
Aristobulus slipped through the door and down the small passage
beyond to where it connected with a larger passage. Ignoring the right
branch since it would only lead him into more battles with orcs, he moved
off down the branch on his left. This brought him to a chamber with
little to spark his fancy. The door in the opposite wall led into a
passage that ended at a T-fork. The left fork would surely bring him into
the goblins' area, and he was tired of mindless fights.
A fight with a reason did not bother him. However, running into
endless hordes of monsters whose sole purpose in existence appeared to be
to ambush and assault him was a novelty that had already grown old. Now
he wanted only to seek out the secrets of those who lived down here, to
learn why they were here and what they did, to discover what information
they held that could be of use to him in his quest.
Walking down the left fork, he came across a breach in the left wall
opening up into a small room. Popping his head into the breach, he
surprised a pair of none-too-vigilant kobold guards, who fell under Ari's
spell of sleep before they had a chance to raise a cry of warning.
Climbing over the rubble, Aristo moved over to the door in the back of the
room. Hearing no sounds of life on the other side of the door, he slipped
through to see what the kobolds had been guarding. Since he estimated
himself to be near the other kobold outpost, he assumed that the two
passages beyond the door lead into a kobold lair.
Once his eyes were fully adjusted to the torches lighting the two
passages, Aristo crept down the one to his left, pausing at the first door
to listen to the sounds of pernicious kobolds laughing and jittering in
their own language. Even though Ari understood the language of kobolds,
he was unable to make out any words through the heavy wooden door.
Continuing down the passage, he came across a side-passage, startling
a kobold who was coming up the side-passage. Ari quickly grabbed the
kobold by the neck, throttling her and cracking her skull on the stone
wall a few times, then garroting her with his whip until he was sure she
was dead. There was little danger in putting the guards to sleep, but to
leave a dead kobold just laying about would be too much of a threat to his
chances at searching the kobold lair.
He shouldered the corpse and continued on his way to a door set in
the righthand wall. Farther on, he could see where the corridor turned to
the right. There were no sounds from the door, so Aristo stepped through,
finding himself in an unoccupied storage room with countless items of
questionable value strewn haphazardly about. Another door in the room
turned out to be to a smaller room crammed with barrels and kegs and a
pair kobolds drinking ale from one of the kegs.
Aristo threw the limp corpse onto the nearest of the kobolds and
stabbed the other with his sword before finishing off the first kobold who
was in the process of getting back on his feet. Well, at least this was
as good a place as any to get rid of these corpses. Small though they
were, if he were to leave dead kobolds laying about, their comrades would
eventually realize that they had a killer nearby. So, taking advantage of
the stores in the room, Aristo shoved the remains behind a stack of
barrels.
Since these particular kobolds were probably supposed to be guarding
the ale and other cheap boozes in the kegs -- after all, where would it be
safer than in their bellies? -- they should remain unfound until their
relief turned up, which would certainly be early, considering the fervor
demonstrated by these pair in protecting their precious beverages.
Therefore, Aristo could only hope that it would be some time before anyone
came by to look in on these unexpectedly decommissioned guards.
Consequently, he needed to make haste in his investigations of these
caverns belonging to the kobolds.
He returned to the passage and headed on down to the corner. The
passage was still empty, and with any luck, it would remain so. As such,
Aristo expected to be jumped by a rabid pack of kobolds at any time.
Around the bend in the corridor, there was a second tunnel branching off
to his left, and farther on there was a door on his right. Nevertheless,
first things first. The second tunnel was closer, and from down it he
heard some vague murmurings.
Ari ventured down this tunnel until he found himself in the entryway
to sizable octagonal room. Its walls were lined with aged, motheaten
tapestries representing countless acts of indeterminate nature that
certainly held meaning only to a kobold. There was a large wooden crate
in the back of the room. A cloth stained by copious amounts of what
appeared to be dried blood was draped over the crate. Ari assumed it to
be an altar, considering there were four kobolds prostrating themselves in
front of the crate, jabbering nonsensical phrases in their own language --
in other words, they were praying to some deity of theirs. Aristo slipped
behind one of the wallhangings before any of the kobolds had a chance to
catch sight of him.
So this was their temple. Ari always got a kick out of defiling the
religious places of idiots. After all, who but an idiot would be so
asinine as to assume that there was such a thing as a deity who would
intervene in a beneficial manner and improve their lives? Ari had had a
time of weakness when he had tried invoking the favor of the elven gods
and even some of the human gods, but it had never done any good. The only
favor he had ever gained was in front of a temple of Hades when he had
lost his temper with some noble's stuckup bastard. Aristo had slain the
foppish human. And when the overbearing dandy had perished on Aristo's
sword, a wound he had dealt to Ari's arm had miraculously healed. The
priests of Hades had witnessed this, denouncing the noble as an enemy of
Hades and declaring Ari a chosen one of their god. However, Aristo had
not cared to serve as a pawn of some over-powered being of questionable
intent. The resulting disagreement over ethics had ended with Ari
stifling the inane ravings of one the acolytes -- in a most permanent
fashion -- and he had thereupon earned the enmity of Hades's temple.
Aristo discerned an alcove partially concealed by one of the
tapestries. Now, where might that lead? He made his way along the wall
behind the hangings to where he was able to see into the alcove. It was
none too deep, ending in a door where there were two kobolds on guard.
Priests' quarters? Perhaps Ari could have a philosophical discussion with
the kobolds' religious leaders. He did love pointing out to priests that
they were idiots -- an obvious detail, since who but an idiot would stoop
to becoming a pawn of a deity, when all deities did was to play games with
the lives of those serving them, as Hades had attempted to do with Aristo
on that one occasion. Besides, if there were any here who would have any
real degree of knowledge on these caverns, it would be the kobolds'
priesthood. Somehow, religious personages often had access to otherwise
privileged knowledge. No doubt, they managed to convince rulers that they
were trustworthy, if they were not themselves the ruling faction.
Leaping from his cover, Aristo simultaneously plunging a dagger into
the heart of each guard, who were gracious enough to die soundlessly. As
the alcove was mostly concealed from sight by a tapestry, none of yonder
chanting fools witnessed the gory deed. Ari went through the door, where
he surprised a kobold in an outlandish garb of gaudy colors.
Unequivocally a priest. The kobold cleric raised his arms in a mystical
gesture. That reminded Ari that some of these religious bafoons had a
measure of magical talent. Still, that was easily fixed. A hurled dagger
plunged into the kobold's eye socket, convincing the kobold to instantly
keel over dead. It was so rare for a religious figure to do something
reasonable without a great deal of argument and pious pontification.
Aristo was removing his other dagger from the wooden door where it
had decided to bury itself -- it could have at least struck the priest in
the other eye socket, if only to balance things out -- when the door was
jerked open. A larger kobold in even more ridiculous garb stood before
Aristo, chanting a brief spell. There was a shimmering of light as Ari's
magical wards absorbed the energy of the spell. Ari flashed the shaman a
grin. The kobold looked a bit distressed as he babbled another spell.
Ari's vision grew narrow, starting to fade to grey. Ari cursed himself
for not taking out the kobold shaman before he could start the second
spell. Focusing his weakened magical strength into resisting the spell,
Ari managing to turn its mystical forces away from himself. His eyes
returned to normal, showing him the shaman, whose brown skin was taking on
a greenish cast to match some of his clothing. The kobold did not like it
that his spells had no effect on this elf. It was not a good omen to
witness.
Aristo shifted the dagger to his left hand and drew his sword. He
was not about the let the kobold have the opportunity to cast a third
spell. Too bad he did not have the strength to cast a spell of his own,
else this might turn into a magical duel. Now that would be interesting.
One of these days Aristobulus was definitely going to have to practice
some more magic of his own.
Pushing such thoughts aside, Aristo moved in on the kobold, only
succeeding in scoring a couple of bloody marks on the shaman who twisted
out of the range of Ari's weapons. He sure was a swift little bugger.
The shaman snatched up a cudgel and swung at Aristo, calling out for the
assistance of his followers. Ari easily dodged that blow and the one that
followed, stabbing the shaman in the side in the process. Aristo raised
one eyebrow in amazement when the kobold remained on his feet. Ari evaded
the cudgel and stabbed the kobold again.
It surprised Aristobulus that the little bugger could stay on his
feet after that. Ari had never met a kobold he couldn't kill with a
single blow. They were such wimpy critters. Still, the shaman was
looking none too healthy at this point, so Ari stepped out of range of the
club and threw his dagger at the shaman. The dagger struck the kobold in
the chest and the runt finally collapsed. After the kobold's display of
such an extraordinary constitution, Aristo beheaded the kobold before he
retrieved his dagger -- in case the runt was faking it.
Just then, a trio of crazed kobolds seemed to come out of nowhere to
defend their late shaman rather belatedly. Taken off guard by the comical
charge of three pigmy lizard men, Aristobulus was slashed by a small
knife, which succeeded in penetrating the remnants of his wards and
drawing a line of blood from his leg. The dagger of another landed a
scratch as well. Irritated, Ari made short work of the inept midgets.
Then Aristo remembered that there had been four of them in the
temple. Where was the fourth? Gone for assistance, without a doubt.
Aristo retreated out into temple, snatching up his spear from where he had
left it behind the tapestry in front of the door. He ducked behind a
different tapestry just in time to avoid being seen by a pack of kobolds
charging past on their way into the shaman's quarters. Now might be a
good time to leave. They would doubtlessly be unhappy at finding their
shaman decapitated. They were liable to lose their heads in despair.
Dodging out into the passage, Ari heard more kobolds from the right.
That meant there was no going back the way he had come. The left branch
of the passage took him past a door and into a small room. A trio of
kobolds were in the room, lighting brands from a brazier. Ari dove behind
a tattered sofa next to the door before they had a chance to notice him.
At this time, he decided that violence might not be prudent. Hordes of
bloodthirsty kobolds were known to be dangerous on occasion. They tended
to forget their innate cowardly natures.
Once the three had left, he peeked around the corner of the passage
and saw them meet up with some of the pack who were exiting the temple.
They immediately set about arguing amongst themselves. Aristobulus had a
difficult time understanding their agitated voices, but it was quite
evident that they were very confused. Neither the trio from the room Ari
was in nor the group from the other direction had seen the assassin of
their feared shaman. And the group from the temple could not find him in
the shaman's chambers. So where had the mysterious killer gone? Kobolds
were such easily confused creatures.
Ari was glad that none of the living kobolds had seen him. They had
no idea of who or what had done this. Unfortunately, they would likely
start a search for the killer very soon. Even if they did not know who
had slain their shaman, if they were to find an elf here they should be
bright enough to figure out that Ari must be the killer.
Consequently, Aristo needed a safer place to hide. The only other
exit was a door in one corner. Hearing nothing on the other side of the
door, he moved into the small room into which it opened. Unhappily, there
were no exits, only a heap of tattered blankets and some piles of wood and
coals. There was no place to hide, not even a ventilation shaft.
But when Ari glanced up at the walls trying to find a way out, an
idea came to him. He only hoped he had enough time as he examined the
stone blocks of the wall. There was not much space between them, but the
cracks were still large enough to get his slender elven fingers and toes
into. He tugged off his soft leather boots, shoving them into his belt.
His spear he strapped to his pack. It was about time to get rid of that
thing, always carrying it around and yet never using it.
Applying his elven skill of climbing trees like a tailless squirrel,
he crawled up the wall until he was able to stand on top of the door frame
and dig his fingers into some cracks for balance. A few minutes later,
several kobolds stormed in and searched the closet by the light of a
torch, fortunately none of them took note of the dark shadow above the
doorway. It was a good thing the door had been built for a full-sized
humanoid and not some puny kobold. On their way out they slammed the door
behind them. Ari had to grit his teeth to keep himself from cursing them
as he nearly slipped from his precarious position when the door frame
shook under the impact.
After an agonizingly long period of time, the furor finally died
down. Having been concentrating on keeping his grip on the wall, Ari had
no idea of how long he had been here. He climbed back down the wall. His
fingers were stiff and sore, and he spent several painful minutes flexing
and stretching them until he was able to move them with relative ease.
That was a vast improvement.
Pulling the door open fractionally, Aristobulus observed a number of
kobolds who had flopped down on some cushions and battered furniture.
They were angry that their shaman had been slain. Some were happy to see
him gone -- he had been a hash taskmaster and like many a race, kobolds
are a lazy lot -- but still he had protected them from many dangers with
his powers, in addition to guiding them on many profitable raids. Now
both their shaman and his acolyte were dead. Their god Kurtulmak must
surely be angered with them. They would need to find a way of appeasing
the wrath of their deity... perhaps tomorrow. Yes, they could do it
tomorrow or the next day. There was no need to hurry. After all, what
does time matter to a god?
Eventually the group was all asleep. Ari snuck out of the closet and
through the room. He had his hands on his weapons, ready to kill any of
them who might dare to awaken. But none did. Oh well. As Aristobulus
skulked past the passage into temple, he could see a couple score kobolds
prostrating themselves before the altar. He fought down urge to kill the
lot of them. Prayer would do the fools no good. After all, their god had
done nothing to save their shamen. But still, it was easier for someone
to ask a deity to fix his problems than to actually try to do it himself.
Typical.
As he rounded the corner in passage, Aristo found himself confronting
six kobolds. He cursed his ill fortune. They were neither warriors nor
were they armed. However, that did not matter. At finding an elf in
their lair after having their shamen butchered, they realized the elf must
be the cause of it all, just as Aristo had expected. They launched
themselves at him kicking and biting.
Ari's skillfully wielded blades sliced kobold after kobold, quickly
carved up the lot of them, taking only a few scratches and bruises in the
process. But the sounds of the brief skirmish had been sufficient to
alert the congregation in the temple. Ari charged up the passage with the
homicidal mob in close pursuit. He barged through the door to the
guardpost, startling the four kobolds on watch. Four guards? They must
be getting paranoid if they were stepping up the guard. Whatever would
prompt them to do such a thing?
The guards had not expected an attack from the rear, so Aristo easily
slashed two of them with the head of his spear as he blasted past them and
up the corridor back towards his secret rooms. He could hear the snarling
crowd behind him. They were not about to let the killer of their shaman
get away so easily. Fortunately, Ari had the lead on them and it was his
turn to take them on a merry chase. He stormed into the one empty chamber
he had been in earlier. He paused to slam the door and jam it with the
spear. What had that one elder told him about doors so long ago about
closing doors? The spear was an awkward item, and Aristobulus was glad to
be rid of it.
He hurried up the last couple of tunnels to his secret door. Leaning
against the door, he grinned to himself. He had slain their shaman --
giving him first hand enlightenment on the afterlife -- and set upon them
religious turmoil. That was a good day's work. And it served them right
for being religious imbeciles. He waited for some time at the secret door
but heard only a brief search of the dead-end passage. It must have taken
them some time to force the jammed door open. Well, he had promised
himself that when he rid himself of the spear, he would find a novel way
of doing so. When he could no longer hear them, he returned to the
storage room for some rest. A good nap should suffice for his fingers to
stiffen up by the time he awoke. He expected nothing less.