Mysterious attacks upon livestock and missing fish hauls raise the ire of the local villagers. Torn nets and broken boats lie half-sunk in their tiny harbor. No tracks are left. No bodies are found. No enemy to vilify. In short, there are no leads as to whom or what are doing these dastardly deeds. Truly dark times are stirring in this little fishing village. (Part One of the Foul Waters series)
The Dungeon Knights, a team of six individuals who hire out for tomb looting, dungeon exploration, and monster slaying, walk along a poorly maintained road. The small gnomish man Tolok says, “I must admit, I did not know there were that many goblins in the area.” [Issue 4]
Kotyka, the skinny, black-skinned half-orc replies, “I’m tired of seeing goblins if you ask me.”
The beautiful elven maiden Merimonwë adds, “We killed hundreds of them-dead ones, big ones, horned ones, winged ones and creepy ones. And don’t forget the weirdo rope thing at the Mill or that damned Monster with like a thousand eyes.” [Issue 19, Issue 20, and Issue 21]
“I believe it was four eyes.” adds the dwarven warrior and group grouch.
The dark-skinned human, Bandric, stands to overlook the local area. Bandric is at a crest in the road pointing onward towards the shore. “There’s a small village up ahead. Come on.”
The group’s priestess, Chalándril, is a half-human woman recently released from military service with the Elvish Nation. Her proud stature and accessible weapons demonstrate an internal conflict between war or peace, healing or harming, human or elf. “It will be nice to have regular food again. I’m tired of trail rations.”
Clearing the wooded hill, the Dungeon Knights see before them several buildings around a small cove. The sun’s reflection dance across the undulating waves of the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the shore grows louder with every step. Not only can the heroes feel the salty air, but they can smell the salt water and old rotting fish with their scrunched up noses.
The brightness of the sun and water make silhouettes of the boats. Two women, one with a basket of fish atop her head, the other carrying a basket of vegetables on her hip, walk up the faint dirt road past the Dungeon Knights. The women’s conversation becomes whispers as they pass the armed strangers.
Down by the docks, a fisherman gets help opening his unusually heavy net. Several men assist as they drag the net to a better location on the dock. With deft ease, the fisherman unlatches the net. A wave of fish collapses in an instant. Among the typical varieties of fish is a much larger fish. A larger fish with human-like arms and legs. At first, they all jump back in fright, then curiosity lures them for a closer look. The fishermen, astonished by the find, begin to talk wildly about what it is and how it was caught in the net.
There is commotion at the center of town. A crowd is gathered, many with hands in the air. A thin man is standing on a barrel trying to calm everyone down. “Now listen to me, please. There’s a logical explanation for this. Someone from town or the local authorities will know what these things are.”
A rotund woman with thick eyebrows turns to the new arrivals and says, “You there, strangers. May we ask you a question?”
Chalándril bows, “By your leave.”
“What manner of creature is this?” The woman, called Chol, points towards the man. He displays the dead fish-man body.
Tolok uses his walking cane to prod the body and inspects the limbs. “This looks like a sahuagin body. The sahuagin are anthropomorphic fish people. Not disposed to friendly relations with land people. How did you acquire this specimen?”
“These men snagged the body in their nets. It must have died before getting caught. If it was alive, I’m sure it could’a torn its way out of the net with them claws of his.”
“Is this the first time something like this happened?” asks Tolok. The villagers flood him with stories about goats and sheep missing near the water, crustacean traps found broken and empty, torn nets and missing hauls, damaged boats lying half-sunk in the cove, and no tracks are ever found. Taking dutiful notes, Tolok compiles the information. “Thank you all for your information. We will investigate these odds occurrences and see if they are all related somehow. Please give us some time to look around.”
A woman called Vhomi speaks, “What about Zaki? His body was found floating in the water this morning. Who’s going to figure out what happened to him? Who’s going to feed his family?”
Bandric says, “That will be our first…” Merimonwë points to the dead sahuagin. “…second thing to investigate.”
Zaki’s dead body is found on the dock on the far side of the village. His eyes and mouth are wide open. Bandric says, “He was killed by something strange—look at the ears and nosebleeds. His eyes are rolled back and his tongue is swollen.”
Chalándril also inspects his body. “Something ripped his neck. That’s where the blood loss if from.”
“His body condition denotes he died in extreme pain. Perhaps a postmortem chat with this fellow is in order?” offers Tolok. The gnome looks expectantly at Chalándril.
“Yes, perhaps.” Chalándril gets comfortable next to the body. For several minutes, she repeats the sacred chant to cast the spell. Chalándril’s eyes are glowing as her magic illuminates the dead body. The villagers watching the interrogation jump back at the light and sudden movement of the dead body.
The dead body twitches and lurches. The jaw struggles to regain control. A breath of foul air expels out of the dead man’s mouth. “Hhheeeeeeh.”
“What did you see prior to your death?”
“Scaly men rising out of the water. Most had greenish scales.”
“What did they look like?”
“The blue-scaled one had those eyes. Oh, the eyes. They were so intense. I can’t look away.”
“How did the scaly men kill you?”
The body twitches as it struggles to speak. “Don’t know. My head hurts so much. The pain is strong. Intense…pain…the pain…”
The dead body collapses into pieces. A foul smell emerges from the putrid body. The villagers and Dungeon Knights back away from Zaki’s body.
“I think we’re done here.” The other Dungeon Knights nod in agreement. ‟Let’s help prepare Zaki’s body for his funeral. Let’s get a tarp to wrap up what remains of the body.”
-
The rest of the afternoon is spent investigating the various locations and mysterious stories plaguing the fish village. Soon after dusk, the Dungeon Knights congregate at the Barnacle Pub to discuss the situation. Tolok takes the initiative and says, “The evidence leads me to conclude that it is sahuagin though there is some evidence of lizardfolk activity.”
Kotyka asks, “What’s the difference? Don’t they both have scaly skin and live under the water?”
“No, not exactly. While both do have scaly skin, they are quite different. Lizardfolk, as the name implies, are a form of a lizard. As such, they cannot breathe underwater – they are amphibian creatures. They prefer marshes and coastal areas living off fish meat, shellfish, and local flora. The sahuagin are a form of fish. They cannot remain for long above water in the air. In a sense, the opposite of amphibian. I am not sure what they eat but I imagine that it is akin to what other fish eat. Both species have claws on their hands and feet, however, they are quite different in physical structure and function.”
‟Beh,” retorts Gûltar, “Thanks for the lecture, but how will knowing this help us stop these things from happening? Finding dead bodies in nets or a possible attack by the sahuagin upon these villagers?”
Gûltar is interrupted by someone running into the pub room. “Help us! Quickly, they’ve taken more of us!”
Gûltar picks up his ax. “When and where, human?”
“They attacked at a few minutes ago. We were looking for more bodies along the shore outside the main cove. These scaly lizard people jumped out of the water and grabbed us. I wiggled free and ran away before they could get me. They drag the others off towards Mangrove Marsh.”
“By the sacred anvil, stuff to kill! Don’t worry good people we’ll take care of these foul fish for you.”
In a whisper, Gûltar adds, “We’d better shove off before they eat those fishermen.”
Kotyka asks the man, “Did it look like the creature in the village’s square?”
“I don’t know. They were scaly people with tails and claws. I was trying to run away.”
At the harbor, the man points out to a small dinghy. “There take that boat. We were just around that point.” He points to the far edge of the cove.
The Dungeon Knights board the dinghy and row out to the described location. Lights from the village become smaller and smaller until they are like twinkling stars on the shore. Bandric looks into the water. He asks, “Can I start the lantern? I can’t see a thing in the dark.”
Five voices in unison respond, “No.”
Merimonwë adds, “The stars and moons are providing plenty of natural light.”
“Alright. I guess I’ll just ready an arrow and wait for trouble.”
Splashing out of the water is a large shellfish monster with crab-like claws and serpentine tentacles. It attacks the heroes on the boat. Disturbed by the recent commotion of the scaly men and their captives, a marsh denizen arrives to seek scraps of food. Instead, it finds annoying creatures in a boat. Bandric is first to get off a series of arrows into the creature’s joints and face. “Seems we never have to wait long for trouble. I think it is called a chuul – a monstrous, angry crab-lobster thing for you non-nature types.”
The monster’s claw hits the boat, rocking the dinghy side to side. Tolok holds on to the rails with an iron grip. Gûltar stands up and spins his ax to the pick side. “It looks to be de-shelling time.”
With a great swing, Gûltar hits the torso shell piercing the crustaceous exoskeleton with his metal pick. Using his unusual strength, the dwarf uses the ax head like a lever and cracks open the shell. Then he slides down the body creating a huge gash in the monster's side. However, his jerky movements cause the boat to rock violently side to side. The weight of the dwarf and the monster dips the side inches from the surface of the water. This sudden unevenness causes Chalándril to lose her balance and fall into the sea.
“Chalándril!” shouts Bandric, who has to catch his balance by grabbing the side of the boat.
In a flash, Kotyka jumps into the water, swimming towards Chalándril before she goes too deep. Merimonwë’s eyes turn green and glow. She says, “It’s time for a lobster bake!”
The elven maiden puts her hands forward and a gout of flames issue forth. Water on the shell steams away and the chuul lets out an ear-piercing screech. Having regained his sense of balance, Tolok points a hand towards the creature and sends forth a streak of magical missiles. The chuul lurches once and becomes still. Lifeless, the crab monster’s body begins to sink into the sea. Kotyka pulls Chalándril up for air. “Help us in, please.”
As Gûltar and Bandric pull Chalándril and Kotyka onto the dinghy, Gûltar says, “Looks like we’ll be having shellfish tonight.”
Bandric adds, “Does anyone have a plate big enough for that thing?”
Puzzled, Kotyka says, “But it’s sinking into the water. Do we need to get it out and in a pot before it’s gone?”
Bandric thinks for a moment. ‟Let’s drag it to the shore there and anchor it. We’ll get it on the way back and tow it to the village.
Tolok asks, ‟Does it taste good?”
Bandric raises an eyebrow, ‟Everything tastes good with melted butter.”
-
Just around the point, a small wooded island lies a few miles offshore. Like an arboreal spider web, the exposed roots of the Mangrove trees twist and turn into the shallow marshes by the sea. The shore is shallow here forcing the Dungeon Knights to disembark from the boat and slide it closer to the trees. Bandric secures the dinghy to one of the trees.
The heroes walk along the shallow shore into the thick branches. There doesn’t appear to be any path or clearing. Irregular heights cause the Dungeon Knights to struggle through the roots. Making their way through the thick underbrush and roots, the heroes finally reach a clearing and solid, dry ground. The interior of the island is lush with other trees and plant growth.
Bandric looks around with his lantern while the others tend to scratches, minor tears, and other casualties of their trek through the Mangroves. “Over here, there are lizard tracks in the soil. A large regular lizard crosses here but these others are undoubtedly lizardfolk tracks. I don’t think they’re sahuagin.”
“Let’s follow it and find the captives,” says Chalándril.
Making their way through the islands brushes and trees, they reach a thicket of dense trees, brush, and rocks. Bandric signals to stop and speaks quietly. “This doesn’t look natural. It looks constructed like a large lair or encampment of some sort.”
“Hisss.”
Bandric raises his finger to his lips. “Quiet. We don’t want to alert the guards.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“Hiss.”
The Dungeon Knights turn their gaze slowly towards the hissing sound. There standing before them are four large lizardfolk with spears ready and stone-axes in their belt. “Don’t make any sudden movements. /aktrum!”
“What?”
“That’s all I know of lizardfolk language. It means ‘peace’, I hope.”
Gûltar puts his hands up. “Or that something is stuck in your throat.”
The lizardfolk guards motion towards another side of the thicket. There, they find a small entrance. The heroes see that there is more lizardfolk in the nearby brush. They crawl through the entrance and enter into a large clearing. There are cooking fires, sleeping nest-mats, tool making area, and several slaves are tied to a large post. They are mostly human, a few gnomes, and a lone sahuagin with drying skin.
Chalándril says, “We should speak with them instead of fighting all these creatures. It might prove beneficial to use a diplomatic approach.”
Gûltar asks, “Does anyone speak their language? Bandric is out of words, and I have no clue what they’re saying now.”
Merimonwë says, “If they have any sort of civilization or contact with others, they may know Koinwer.”
Gûltar spits, “Now how in the Creator’s name would they know that bit of mercantile prattle?”
Merimonwë approaches with hands raised in caution. “Ĉu vi komprenas min? Ni venas en paco. Ni volas paroli kun via gvidanto.”
The larger lizardfolk stands menacingly. Merimonwë whispers, “I think he’s the leader.”
Lizardfolk Chief raises his ceremonial club and shakes it. “Mi komprenas cin. Mi estas la ĉefo. Parolu aǔ ni mortigos vin.”
Merimonwë’s eyes brighten and she smiles. “Hey, he understands me!”
Bandric says, “Great Meri. What did he say?”
“Speak or they’ll kill us. I guess that’s bad, eh?”
Merimonwë speaks with the chief for a few minutes. She bows respectfully and returns to the group. “This tribe is strengthening their local dominance through raids and skirmishes along the sea. It seems the sahuagin territory is crossing over on this tribe’s domain. The lizard’s new Supreme Leader is forcing them to confront their ancestral enemies, sahuagin, but this time they are winning more battles. The Supreme Leader has given them more power. It makes them strong. This band is a hunting party. They need to provide more food to their growing nestmates. He’s refusing to release the prisoners. They are, ah hum, food. They are keeping them alive so the meat will be fresh when they eat.”
Chalándril says, “Tell the chief, in exchange for the prisoners, we’ll get the villagers to provide fish and meat…as a form of tribute to their dominance and protection.”
Merimonwë says, “Per interŝanganta la kaptitojn, ni povos konvinki la vilaĝuloj providi al vi fiŝojn kaj viandojn.”
Gûltar clenches his fist. “That’s not going to work for me. Tell him to release the prisoners now or die.” Then he frowns and yells, “Liberigu ilin nur aǔ mortu!”
Merimonwë raises her hands towards Gûltar in a soothing manner. “Diplomacy is a delica…”
The Lizardfolk Chief cries, “Do ni festos sur vian karnojn, fremduloj!”
Gûltar and the Lizardfolk Chief charge each other with weapons drawn. Bandric’s head droops, “Couldn’t he warn us that he was going to attack. I’m not even ready yet.”
Merimonwë unleashes a large fireball onto a crowd of lizardfolk. Chalándril summons a floating force mace and sends it into the fray. Bandric lets loose a few arrows and orders Kotyka, “Go help Gûltar so he doesn’t get surrounded.”
“What if I get surrounded?”
“Then push the dwarf through one of the sides.”
Kotyka tumbles into melee with the Chief and Gûltar. One of the smaller lizardfolk puts his hands to the sides of his head and concentrates. Kotyka grabs her own head, cries in pain and falls to her knees. Meanwhile, Gûltar spins around and hits the Chief in the chest. The Chief bats away the ax and hits Gûltar across the head with his spear butt. Gûltar’s helmet is thrown off, bouncing along the ground.
Two lizardfolk force Chalándril to the ground while a third is knocked unconscious by her spiritual weapon. One of the lizards pulls out a large knife. An arrow pierces the hand forcing the knife out. The next arrow pierces the skull of the lizardfolk. The second lizardfolk is attacked by two big badgers that savagely pull it from atop Chalándril’s struggling body.
Kotyka finally succumbs to the pain and falls down unconscious. Bandric yells, “Tolok, we have enough support. Get that little guy. He did something to Kotyka.”
“Yes. I have the perfect spell for him.” Tolok’s hand gracefully moves through the air. “Lesser Black Tentacles.”
Out of the ground grow three large, black tentacles that entangle the little blue lizardfolk. Once firmly in their grips, they begin to squeeze. Tolok clenches his fist, the tentacles squeeze tighter, and the head of the lizardfolk pops. “Do not hurt are sweet half-orc, you brute.”
The battle rages on for a few moments longer. The Dungeon Knights overcome most of the lizardfolk and rout the rest. The remaining lizardfolk flee into the tangled roots of the Mangroves. Bandric picks up his lantern and stands near some hostages. “Time to untie the captives, unless someone objects.”
The sahuagin speaks up in a dry voice. “I am called Coral. Thank you for rescuing me from these creatures.”
Chalándril spouts, “You speak Humanese?”
-
The following day after the Dungeon Knights return, the villagers joyful that the strange visitors have saved their friends. The villagers are also happy to have such a large crustacean to eat and share. The evening is filled with laughter, drinking, and plenty of eating. The chorus of villagers singing folk songs echoes on the waves of the cove.
The trees stand in silhouette as the moons’ light shimmers on the harbor waters. Bubbles emerge from the undulating tidal waters. The blue-green scales of a lizardfolk emerge from the water. It walks out of the water towards the dark homes with lit windows. In the shimmering moonlight, its scales glisten. It concentrates.
-
Inside one of the buildings, Chalándril lies in her cot. Perspiration covers her body. She tosses and turns. Her hands grip the edges of the cot tightly. Her mind drifts to a vivid dream. Chalándril is in the field of the Elven army. Her captain is yelling at her. The voice is indistinct at first then slurs begin to form understandable words.
The Elven Sergeant continues, “…you half-human mongrel. Who let your worthless sack of flesh into my army?”
Chalándril stands straighter, shaking. “My local Ward Captain, Sergeant.”
The Sergeant’s face slowly morphs into Merimonwë’s face. “What a waste of a uniform. Ward Captains are a blight upon my Army and the Glorious Elven Empire. Sending us this worthless mongrel. Do I look like the Arcane Corp? I can’t turn nothing into something.”
The Sergeant spits at her feet. “Why didn’t your mother kill herself when she learned she had a slave’s baby in her womb? You won’t fit in anywhere! You’re not fully elf and you’re not even a smelly human.”
The Sergeant turns away from Chalándril in disgust.
Chalándril speaks up, “I joined the army to serve the Empire! I am elf enough to serve my country!”
Sergeant snaps around in rage. She stomps over to an inch from Chalándril’s nose. “How dare you!”
Chalándril awakens sweaty and shaking. She clutches her face and sobs.
-
Merimonwë’s lies in her cot. She too struggles with a strange dream. Merimonwë is in a crowd of unusual monsters. They have strange eyes, long arms, and tentacles. One looks familiar. In the back, there’s a Harbinger among the alien host. Looking around, she sees scorched earth, bodies lying in foxholes, and smoke floating across the fields of strange creatures.
Merimonwë looks up into the sky. There are strange metal shapes in the sky drifting or flying. Sometimes beams of light shoot out from a metal box and strike the ground. There is smoke and destruction everywhere. The strange creatures come towards her. They surround her with large metal staves pointed in her direction. Merimonwë feels anger and rage. The anger grows. Her hands begin to ignite with flames.
“No!” Her eyes become green glowing lights. She screams, “No. Nnnnoooooooo!”
She explodes in a brilliant flash of light—a mushroom cloud appears in the leveled town square. The creatures surrounding her burst into flames and then turn to ash. Their former ashy forms disappear in the winds. An elven silhouette emerges from the smoking ruins and firelight.
Standing in a large crater Merimonwë says, “What have I done? What have I become?”
“Merimonwë? Merimonwë?” The elven girl hears her name. Someone is shaking her. “Merimonwë? Wake up. You’re having a bad dream. A nightmare.”
Merimonwë opens her eyes and sees her friend Chalándril holding her shoulders. Chalándril looks tenderly, “It’s alright. It was only a dream.”
“Chal?”
“Yes, Meri.”
“Where am I?”
-
A horde of dark humanoid beings surround Bandric, who has his bow out. He grabs at his quiver, then his backup quiver and says “Of course, it’s empty.”
The lone human swings his bow as a make-shift staff hoping to hit any of his attackers. He lands a few blows forcing the humanoids back. A large troll steps up, grabs Bandric by the arms and pulls the human apart.
Bandric sits up in bed screaming ‟No!” Sweat pours down his face. His clothes are soak with sweat. Bandric whispers, ‟No.”
-
In a rather cozy room filled in an affluent gnomish style, Tolok scans the contents of the fine bookcase. A content smile emerges on his face. “What a splendid collection.” Tolok takes a book off his bookshelf. He opens it and looks puzzled. “This can not be.”
He takes another book off the bookshelf and opens it. “No. This can not be. There has to be writing.” He throws the book of blank pages down and grabs more books. Opening them in quick succession, he scans the contents. In a panic, he pulls more and more books and scrolls from the shelves. He checks each book and scroll. Tolok just sits in a pile of blank books and scrolls sobbing. “They are all blank. All my magic is missing. All the words are gone.”
-
Kotyka is holding a severed elven head. Kotyka is dressed in dark leather armor and covered in crimson blood. Before her is an orc army with banners fluttering in the overcast sky. “None shall stop our victory. The Empire will fall to our might! Death to all elves!”
The humanoid host cheers. “Hail Kotyka. Hail the Queen. Death to all Elves!”
Her fang peeks out as she wryly smiles. Kotyka says, ‟Kill them. Kill them all!”
Kotyka drops the elven head and sheaths her sword. Several large, armored orc step up to her side. Kotyka’s personal guard look at the queen. ‟Let’s move out. Show no mercy.”
Lying on the cot, Kotyka’s eyes open wide. Her eyes look side to side. She pulls the blanket over her head and cries.
-
The dancing lights of lanterns fill the stone staircase. A squad of dwarves walks down when a magical mouth appear at the bend. The dwarves stop and look around warily. The voice speaks in their tongue, “Beware, none shall pass and live.”
The dwarves start to chuckle and then laugh. The leader dwarf huffs, “None shall pass? Khurizi are not so easily frightened. Nor are they so easily killed.” The dwarves continue on down the stairs. A flash of metal. The lead dwarf’s head bounces down the stairs. Blood squirts from the stump of his severed neck. His body falls to the stairs, slides a few steps, and comes to the rest against the wall. The dwarf in front of Gûltar is snatched away.
Dwarf screams, “Aahhh!!!”
Gûltar awakens and swings his ax. “Lurtok!” The pick side is stuck in the wall. “Fek!”
Bandric opens his eyes and sees the pommel of Gûltar’s ax above his face. “Gûltar? Is everything alright?”
-
The moist underground chamber is filled with strange organic tubes, pulsating pods with translucent membranes, and large speckled egg-forms. Water drips from the ceiling onto the pools of water on the floor. The dim illumination provides just enough light to keep the moss covered walls verdant. Various organic vats line the walls and natural lines of the chamber.
An old, pouch-belt laden lizardfolk carrying a large basket lumbers slowly into the room. He stops at a wide tubular structure. The lizardfolk pulls back the membrane lid. He pours the viscous contents of the basket into the exposed opening and closes the lid. The sounds of struggling and cracking draw the lizardfolk’s attention.
He looks at a large egg moving itself. Cracks begin to appear on the shell. Some of the shell fragments fall to the side, exposing the reptilian head of the infant. More of the shell cracks allowing the internal slime to issue forth. Finally the infant escapes from the confines of the shell. Gills along the ribcage struggle to breathe in the airy chamber.
The old lizardfolk picks up the newborn, gently wipes off the prenatal slime and dunks the newborn underwater at the main table. The newborn ceases to struggle. It begins to calm down and breathe normally. Some of the other vats have bubbles emerging from their pools of liquid.
The lizardfolk reaches up to a small pulsating button and presses it. The light dims more. He says, “Supreme One, the new hybrid skum are healthy.”
A dark being in the corner of the chamber moves its tentacles sliding it across the slick, uneven floor. The large creature has three horizontal long eyes. Its skin is covered with a viscus slime. The creatures skin is various shades of purple, green, and olive patterns. The Supreme One replies, “Excellent. And the others?”
A gang of blue lizardfolk enters the main room. The larger one speaks, “They have grown well. The years of training have made them most superior.”
“And what of the land-monkeys?”
Another blue lizardfolk steps forward. “Supreme One, I have entered their minds and introduced nightmares. They shall not prevail from my psionically induced nightmares.”
“Excellent. Continue your work.”
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Location: In the Barony of Mhelkar, by the Mangrove Marsh
Dungeon Knight Roster:
Bandric (Human Ranger 7)
Chalándril (Half-human Cleric 7)
Gûltar (Dwarf Fighter 7)
Kotyka (Half-orc Rogue 7)
Merimonwë (Elf Sorcerer 7)
Tolok (Gnome Wizard/Conjurist 7s)
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“We’re going to need a butter sauce after defeating this monster.” – Bandric
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