Ironworks Gaming Forum - View Single Post - The Flight Of The B;ack Dragon

kiwidoc · 07-23-2001, 10:31 PM

Chapter Three: Dracomal - Part 1

Fliss stood in silence on the far side of the hall where the waterfall danced and sang over the living rock. When all eight of the companions had finally joined her she held up one hand, motioning them to be still and turned to face the waterfall holding out her arms. She sang a pure, sweet high note, that rang and reverberated around the hall, and the water dwindled to a slow trickle, then stopped. One by one the butterflies fluttered over to settle on Fliss’s outstretched arms, her shoulders and back till she was wearing a living cape in scintillating rich blues, deepest scarlet and gold. A look of profound joy crossed her face, and she closed her eyes for a few brief moments.

A section of the rock face shimmered, wavered and then dissolved to reveal a high arched door, set in a richly carved and decorated stone architrave. Lapsyng leant forward intrigued by the fine workmanship. The door itself was formed from a richly dark and glossy wood, set with golden studs. In the centre was a an exquisite rendering of a dragon – not a truly life like portrait as it was perhaps a little stylised, but it was executed with a grace and beauty that caught his breath away.

The door swung noiselessly open and Lapsyng’s eye was immediately drawn to the tall, lean figure standing within. He was a very striking man clad entirely in black, and he leaned against the doorframe with an easy grace. The white light glittered in a myriad of shards off the silver and jet that adorned the black leathers and silk of his costume. Blue-black hair swept from his dark face in great, shimmering wings that fell halfway down his back. The face was compelling rather than truly handsome; the high arched and angular cheekbones gave it a faintly alien cast. Most striking of all were his glittering, deep black eyes. He raised one elegant long nailed hand to wave them into the room glimpsed over his shoulder. Lapsyng had a sudden mental flash of a great black cat walking the shadows under a dark and moonless sky.

“Ah, the wanderers have arrived. Let me introduce myself, my name is Dracomal.”

The voice was dark and melodic, richly layered with undertones of laughter and echoes of power. His black eyes glistened with mischievous delight as he stepped back to allow the party into the room and they entered a littler warily. He quirked his mouth in a lopsided smile and purred a commentary on them one by one.

“Now just who do we have here? The pretty princess without a kingdom searching for her true self; the knight of the people who is on the run from his own kin and their evil, aristocratic ways; the magical leading lady with no followers; the cat thief always on the lookout for a fresh juicy mouse; the hearty ranger who much prefers to follow his own paths; the monk who turns her disapproving eyes on all, but cannot look at her own memories; the fighter who has perhaps taken one to many blows to the head ... and last but very definitely not least the bard.”

He turned to Lapsang with a warm smile. “Don’t worry little mouse, your secret is safe with me. I must admit I have been enjoying your fine music, and I have food, wine and last but definitely not least fine instruments so you can regale us with your undoubted talents. Please, make yourselves at home.”

This room seemed much less strange to the companions. A high ceiling with dark and ancient wooden beams arched over a long hall built in warm coloured, finely worked stone and panelled with rich carved woodwork. The flagstones of the floor were almost completely covered with fine carpets and fine tapestries hung on the walls. At first glance these seemed to be silk but a close look showed strange but lovely fibres in bright jewel like colours forming scenes of woodlands, mountains and plains. Dragons flew in sinuous lines across them all. A large hearth held a log burning on a pair of black iron firedogs and gave off a richly fragrant smoke.

Scattered throughout the room there were many chairs, high ladder back chairs in glossy carved wood, deep comfortable chairs richly cushioned in black and red velvet patterned with stylised dragon motifs, stools upholstered in red or black leather set with gleaming silvery nails. It was obvious this room was meant to entertain many guests. Two huge, long tables stood against the wall on either side of the fireplace. The legs were carves from a dark, black wood into the semblance of great feet with mighty talons. One table bore platter after platter of food that was at once both very familiar and of truly superb quality. The other was piled with white plates embellished with a stylised dragon motif, utensils and napkins. Oddly enough the napkins were also decorated with dragons. There were jugs of foaming ale, juices and clear water and small tankards. Even the handles of the pewter tankards were fashioned in the likeness of small dragons.

For the first time there was a chance to see out of this huge building. An enormous pair of mullioned bow windows looked out on a beautiful valley. The land fell away in a long gentle slop to a river far below. The slope was chequered with gardens, orchards and farmlands and crisscrossed with wide paths paved in white stone. Trees dotted the landscape – fruit trees blossomed in the orchards, hawthorn hedges lined many of the paths and great oaks, elms, ashes and sycamores stood in solitary splendour. Birds flew over this gentle land in abundance, their familiar calls clearly heard through the glass. The room and the gentle slope seemed familiar and though beautiful, after the strangeness of the rest of the building they were very ordinary. It could have been anywhere in Faerun.

The far side of the valley was different, wilder. The land rose far more steeply. An area of green pastureland flanked the river, but this was rougher and less tamed than the pleasant fields on the near side. Above this dark forests covered steep and deeply folded hills that rose swiftly to the feet of high-shouldered grey, granite mountains capped in whitest snow.

As PG passed Dracomal hers eyes moved up and down his body in frank appraisal. She then gave her head a little shake, and with a small smile she headed up to the table, and began to fill her plate with food.

Kyan entered the room in silence, his sharp eyes taking it all in. Throughout their strange journey from their room his face had showed the occasional flash of awe but had remained largely impassive and it displayed little emotion now as he looked at the odd man in black.

“If I may, Dracomal, I believe we have seen you before.”

Errol raised an eyebrow. "Really Kyan? Interesting.”

“Errol we have all seen this man before. I do hope that others have a little longer attention span than you.”

Light dawned in Errol’s face.

"Ah, wait, now I know. I'm sorry my friend, he is the man from that eerie painting isn't he?"

Dracomal’s smile widened.

“Well done for recognising me from the Black Dragon. It is good to see there is a good brain to go with all that strength and nobility.”

Errol turned an impassive gaze on Dracomal.

“Sir, I would greatly appreciate it if you would call Errol instead of 'the knight of the people who is on the run from his own kin and their evil, aristocratic ways'. It sounds so much nicer, and besides it rolls off the tongue a little quicker."

“Please forgive me Earl. It has been so long since I have seen such …. interesting people that I couldn’t help myself from slipping back into the old ways for just a little fun.

Throughout this exchange Assam stood very still and very quiet. She alone out of this whole group appeared to be aware of just who and what this man was. Despite her heroic efforts to keep her terror hidden fear showed in her dark eyes.

At the far end of the hall, well away from the heat of the fire was a small dais. Lapsyng’s eyes were immediately drawn to a huge harp in glistening warm coloured wood inlaid with silver. At the feet of this truly magnificent instrument there rested a mandolin. Although at first glance this seems like a lesser instrument, his trained eye quickly spotted its exquisite quality. A silver and blackwood flute, a fine set of pan pipes and a series of small drums finished this remarkable collection.

Dracomal gave a faintly predatory grin.

“Ah Lapsyng, I see you have spotted my small collection. I am by way of a musician myself. I must confess I am intrigued, just who is this dragon lord you have played for?”

PG flashed an encouraging smile at Lapsyng.

"Go on Lappy, give us a tune. All we've heard so far are little squeaks like a mouse...."

With a wicked, throaty chuckle she turned away from the bard and winked at their host.

Lapsang gave PG a long, steady look, a look that was not unfriendly but it was not overly friendly either. In a light bantering tone he replied.

"For so talented a cat, you seem to have trouble discerning a nice juicy mouse from something altogether different. But no matter, I shall not hold it against you. After all, it seems I may even be just as great an enigma to Dracomal here, though he does indeed know much about me. Really, only one has ever truly figured me out, and that one is long dead now. So my little black cat, what song would you have me perform?"

Ceylar’s hackles had risen a little at being called the magical leading lady with no followers. She had managed to restrain herself to disapproving looks throughout the entire interchange but this flippancy was just too much!

"Music may be all well and good but Dracomal or whatever you call yourself, but you still haven’t told us what we are doing here and who you are, apart from your name. Please tell us what you want”

Her comrades winced visibly, and then it occurred to them that Ceylar’s tone was considerably milder than usual and she had actually said please! Perhaps she really was trying her best.

Errol stepped in to sooth the troubled waters.

“Ceylar, no need to confront our host with a barrage of questions when we are still introducing ourselves. However Dracomal, you do realize that at some point you will have to explain a few things to us?

Dracomal turned a more serious look on the entire group.

“Explanations and questions eh? But first, trust is needed and trust works both ways. Lapsyng my silver tongued friend. Tell me more of this Dragon Lord you have entertained with your undoubted skills.”

"Why, you ask me which dragon lord I played for, when it was under your very likeness I played so many nights. By admitting that you listened to me, you admit that I have entertained you, and unless you claim that you have listened to another more frequently than I, you just told me that I am your favorite bard. And as for the ceremony to dub me so... what we've already been through this day has more ceremony to it than most state functions. So while my comments were made prematurely, of course, they were obviously utterly factual. I'm so glad to have finally met the man who thinks so highly of me."

Lapsang smiled broadly, giving a little laugh and impressing even himself with his amazing logical deduction. He was completely unaware of the rolled eyes and stifled coughs behind his back.

"I apologise for any misunderstandings. I also apologise for any mistrust I may have for you, but you did speak of trust working both ways, and since you seem to know so much of us, I would ask merely to learn something of yourself. To that effect, I have a spell memorized that will allow me to read your thoughts. Since you know me so well, you should know that it will not harm you in any way, shape, or form. So I would like to know if you are willing to submit to this handy little spell of mine..."

Dracomal spread his hands in a gesture of submission and nodded. Lapsyng pulled a copper piece from his pouch and began to chant softly weaving his hands. His face was set deep in concentration for he was not merely casting the simple spell “Detect Thoughts” but he secretly weaving a second spell through and around it, one designed to call forth a wave of friendly warmth to the caster. The spells were cast, the deed was done and Lapsyng nervously studied the thoughts fleeting across the surface of Dracomal’s richly complex mind. Had it worked, had he got away with it?

The reply came in a totally unexpected manner. As Lapsang prepares and casts his Emotion spell, it has a most unexpected effect. Dracomal tipped back his head and laughed uproariously, a rich, deep and very infectious laugh.

“Oh, my. Little mouse you are a cheeky little mouse indeed.”

Then his face turned serious. “But you are right, you have explained yourself and now it is time for me to trust you.”

He lifted his head, smiled a sweet, sad wistful smile and held out his hands palm upwards. Those with the eyes to see and the sense to feel were aware of the feeling of walls falling, of vast iron gates unlocking. By its very absence they all realised just how much power had been filling the room till a mere moment or two ago.

“Go ahead … look at me and study me all you want.”

Errol and Assam bent their heads in prayer. Ceylar began to weave hey hands and chant as well, taking great care to stay out of line of sight of Dracomal till the very last moment before she cast her spell.

Assam spoke in a quest, dignified voice.

“Though it surprises me greatly to say it, I can find no evil in you.”

Errol’s voice was firm and clear.

“Nor can I.”

Dracomal sighed wistfully and settled back into a huge chair, upholstered in black and deep red leather.

“Friends, it appears we have all decided to trust each other. This is a long story so I advise you to get some food and make yourself comfortable before we start. “

------------------
There is only one kiwidoc, accept no substitutes

STANDARD OPERATING PROCEEDURE
www.judyhope.co.uk
THE ABYSS - FREE FORM ROLEPLAYING
http://pub76.ezboard.com/btheabyss40673

[This message has been edited by kiwidoc (edited 07-23-2001).]

07-23-2001, 10:31 PM	#38
kiwidoc Zhentarim Guard Join Date: May 31, 2001 Location: UK Posts: 385	Chapter Three: Dracomal - Part 1 Fliss stood in silence on the far side of the hall where the waterfall danced and sang over the living rock. When all eight of the companions had finally joined her she held up one hand, motioning them to be still and turned to face the waterfall holding out her arms. She sang a pure, sweet high note, that rang and reverberated around the hall, and the water dwindled to a slow trickle, then stopped. One by one the butterflies fluttered over to settle on Fliss’s outstretched arms, her shoulders and back till she was wearing a living cape in scintillating rich blues, deepest scarlet and gold. A look of profound joy crossed her face, and she closed her eyes for a few brief moments. A section of the rock face shimmered, wavered and then dissolved to reveal a high arched door, set in a richly carved and decorated stone architrave. Lapsyng leant forward intrigued by the fine workmanship. The door itself was formed from a richly dark and glossy wood, set with golden studs. In the centre was a an exquisite rendering of a dragon – not a truly life like portrait as it was perhaps a little stylised, but it was executed with a grace and beauty that caught his breath away. The door swung noiselessly open and Lapsyng’s eye was immediately drawn to the tall, lean figure standing within. He was a very striking man clad entirely in black, and he leaned against the doorframe with an easy grace. The white light glittered in a myriad of shards off the silver and jet that adorned the black leathers and silk of his costume. Blue-black hair swept from his dark face in great, shimmering wings that fell halfway down his back. The face was compelling rather than truly handsome; the high arched and angular cheekbones gave it a faintly alien cast. Most striking of all were his glittering, deep black eyes. He raised one elegant long nailed hand to wave them into the room glimpsed over his shoulder. Lapsyng had a sudden mental flash of a great black cat walking the shadows under a dark and moonless sky. “Ah, the wanderers have arrived. Let me introduce myself, my name is Dracomal.” The voice was dark and melodic, richly layered with undertones of laughter and echoes of power. His black eyes glistened with mischievous delight as he stepped back to allow the party into the room and they entered a littler warily. He quirked his mouth in a lopsided smile and purred a commentary on them one by one. “Now just who do we have here? The pretty princess without a kingdom searching for her true self; the knight of the people who is on the run from his own kin and their evil, aristocratic ways; the magical leading lady with no followers; the cat thief always on the lookout for a fresh juicy mouse; the hearty ranger who much prefers to follow his own paths; the monk who turns her disapproving eyes on all, but cannot look at her own memories; the fighter who has perhaps taken one to many blows to the head ... and last but very definitely not least the bard.” He turned to Lapsang with a warm smile. “Don’t worry little mouse, your secret is safe with me. I must admit I have been enjoying your fine music, and I have food, wine and last but definitely not least fine instruments so you can regale us with your undoubted talents. Please, make yourselves at home.” This room seemed much less strange to the companions. A high ceiling with dark and ancient wooden beams arched over a long hall built in warm coloured, finely worked stone and panelled with rich carved woodwork. The flagstones of the floor were almost completely covered with fine carpets and fine tapestries hung on the walls. At first glance these seemed to be silk but a close look showed strange but lovely fibres in bright jewel like colours forming scenes of woodlands, mountains and plains. Dragons flew in sinuous lines across them all. A large hearth held a log burning on a pair of black iron firedogs and gave off a richly fragrant smoke. Scattered throughout the room there were many chairs, high ladder back chairs in glossy carved wood, deep comfortable chairs richly cushioned in black and red velvet patterned with stylised dragon motifs, stools upholstered in red or black leather set with gleaming silvery nails. It was obvious this room was meant to entertain many guests. Two huge, long tables stood against the wall on either side of the fireplace. The legs were carves from a dark, black wood into the semblance of great feet with mighty talons. One table bore platter after platter of food that was at once both very familiar and of truly superb quality. The other was piled with white plates embellished with a stylised dragon motif, utensils and napkins. Oddly enough the napkins were also decorated with dragons. There were jugs of foaming ale, juices and clear water and small tankards. Even the handles of the pewter tankards were fashioned in the likeness of small dragons. For the first time there was a chance to see out of this huge building. An enormous pair of mullioned bow windows looked out on a beautiful valley. The land fell away in a long gentle slop to a river far below. The slope was chequered with gardens, orchards and farmlands and crisscrossed with wide paths paved in white stone. Trees dotted the landscape – fruit trees blossomed in the orchards, hawthorn hedges lined many of the paths and great oaks, elms, ashes and sycamores stood in solitary splendour. Birds flew over this gentle land in abundance, their familiar calls clearly heard through the glass. The room and the gentle slope seemed familiar and though beautiful, after the strangeness of the rest of the building they were very ordinary. It could have been anywhere in Faerun. The far side of the valley was different, wilder. The land rose far more steeply. An area of green pastureland flanked the river, but this was rougher and less tamed than the pleasant fields on the near side. Above this dark forests covered steep and deeply folded hills that rose swiftly to the feet of high-shouldered grey, granite mountains capped in whitest snow. As PG passed Dracomal hers eyes moved up and down his body in frank appraisal. She then gave her head a little shake, and with a small smile she headed up to the table, and began to fill her plate with food. Kyan entered the room in silence, his sharp eyes taking it all in. Throughout their strange journey from their room his face had showed the occasional flash of awe but had remained largely impassive and it displayed little emotion now as he looked at the odd man in black. “If I may, Dracomal, I believe we have seen you before.” Errol raised an eyebrow. "Really Kyan? Interesting.” “Errol we have all seen this man before. I do hope that others have a little longer attention span than you.” Light dawned in Errol’s face. "Ah, wait, now I know. I'm sorry my friend, he is the man from that eerie painting isn't he?" Dracomal’s smile widened. “Well done for recognising me from the Black Dragon. It is good to see there is a good brain to go with all that strength and nobility.” Errol turned an impassive gaze on Dracomal. “Sir, I would greatly appreciate it if you would call Errol instead of 'the knight of the people who is on the run from his own kin and their evil, aristocratic ways'. It sounds so much nicer, and besides it rolls off the tongue a little quicker." “Please forgive me Earl. It has been so long since I have seen such …. interesting people that I couldn’t help myself from slipping back into the old ways for just a little fun. Throughout this exchange Assam stood very still and very quiet. She alone out of this whole group appeared to be aware of just who and what this man was. Despite her heroic efforts to keep her terror hidden fear showed in her dark eyes. At the far end of the hall, well away from the heat of the fire was a small dais. Lapsyng’s eyes were immediately drawn to a huge harp in glistening warm coloured wood inlaid with silver. At the feet of this truly magnificent instrument there rested a mandolin. Although at first glance this seems like a lesser instrument, his trained eye quickly spotted its exquisite quality. A silver and blackwood flute, a fine set of pan pipes and a series of small drums finished this remarkable collection. Dracomal gave a faintly predatory grin. “Ah Lapsyng, I see you have spotted my small collection. I am by way of a musician myself. I must confess I am intrigued, just who is this dragon lord you have played for?” PG flashed an encouraging smile at Lapsyng. "Go on Lappy, give us a tune. All we've heard so far are little squeaks like a mouse...." With a wicked, throaty chuckle she turned away from the bard and winked at their host. Lapsang gave PG a long, steady look, a look that was not unfriendly but it was not overly friendly either. In a light bantering tone he replied. "For so talented a cat, you seem to have trouble discerning a nice juicy mouse from something altogether different. But no matter, I shall not hold it against you. After all, it seems I may even be just as great an enigma to Dracomal here, though he does indeed know much about me. Really, only one has ever truly figured me out, and that one is long dead now. So my little black cat, what song would you have me perform?" Ceylar’s hackles had risen a little at being called the magical leading lady with no followers. She had managed to restrain herself to disapproving looks throughout the entire interchange but this flippancy was just too much! "Music may be all well and good but Dracomal or whatever you call yourself, but you still haven’t told us what we are doing here and who you are, apart from your name. Please tell us what you want” Her comrades winced visibly, and then it occurred to them that Ceylar’s tone was considerably milder than usual and she had actually said please! Perhaps she really was trying her best. Errol stepped in to sooth the troubled waters. “Ceylar, no need to confront our host with a barrage of questions when we are still introducing ourselves. However Dracomal, you do realize that at some point you will have to explain a few things to us? Dracomal turned a more serious look on the entire group. “Explanations and questions eh? But first, trust is needed and trust works both ways. Lapsyng my silver tongued friend. Tell me more of this Dragon Lord you have entertained with your undoubted skills.” "Why, you ask me which dragon lord I played for, when it was under your very likeness I played so many nights. By admitting that you listened to me, you admit that I have entertained you, and unless you claim that you have listened to another more frequently than I, you just told me that I am your favorite bard. And as for the ceremony to dub me so... what we've already been through this day has more ceremony to it than most state functions. So while my comments were made prematurely, of course, they were obviously utterly factual. I'm so glad to have finally met the man who thinks so highly of me." Lapsang smiled broadly, giving a little laugh and impressing even himself with his amazing logical deduction. He was completely unaware of the rolled eyes and stifled coughs behind his back. "I apologise for any misunderstandings. I also apologise for any mistrust I may have for you, but you did speak of trust working both ways, and since you seem to know so much of us, I would ask merely to learn something of yourself. To that effect, I have a spell memorized that will allow me to read your thoughts. Since you know me so well, you should know that it will not harm you in any way, shape, or form. So I would like to know if you are willing to submit to this handy little spell of mine..." Dracomal spread his hands in a gesture of submission and nodded. Lapsyng pulled a copper piece from his pouch and began to chant softly weaving his hands. His face was set deep in concentration for he was not merely casting the simple spell “Detect Thoughts” but he secretly weaving a second spell through and around it, one designed to call forth a wave of friendly warmth to the caster. The spells were cast, the deed was done and Lapsyng nervously studied the thoughts fleeting across the surface of Dracomal’s richly complex mind. Had it worked, had he got away with it? The reply came in a totally unexpected manner. As Lapsang prepares and casts his Emotion spell, it has a most unexpected effect. Dracomal tipped back his head and laughed uproariously, a rich, deep and very infectious laugh. “Oh, my. Little mouse you are a cheeky little mouse indeed.” Then his face turned serious. “But you are right, you have explained yourself and now it is time for me to trust you.” He lifted his head, smiled a sweet, sad wistful smile and held out his hands palm upwards. Those with the eyes to see and the sense to feel were aware of the feeling of walls falling, of vast iron gates unlocking. By its very absence they all realised just how much power had been filling the room till a mere moment or two ago. “Go ahead … look at me and study me all you want.” Errol and Assam bent their heads in prayer. Ceylar began to weave hey hands and chant as well, taking great care to stay out of line of sight of Dracomal till the very last moment before she cast her spell. Assam spoke in a quest, dignified voice. “Though it surprises me greatly to say it, I can find no evil in you.” Errol’s voice was firm and clear. “Nor can I.” Dracomal sighed wistfully and settled back into a huge chair, upholstered in black and deep red leather. “Friends, it appears we have all decided to trust each other. This is a long story so I advise you to get some food and make yourself comfortable before we start. “ ------------------ There is only one kiwidoc, accept no substitutes STANDARD OPERATING PROCEEDURE www.judyhope.co.uk THE ABYSS - FREE FORM ROLEPLAYING http://pub76.ezboard.com/btheabyss40673 [This message has been edited by kiwidoc (edited 07-23-2001).]