[Completed] Orrin's Tale - Finger of Doom/April 27, 1 VC

[Keehnelf]

The dwarf blanches a bit in response to Orrin's comments, and simply shrugs at his question. "I don't know anything about prisoners apart from you."

He steps forward and takes a key from inside a pocket on the inner lining of his belt, unlocking Orrin's shackles. He turns and steps out into the hall. "Come with me."

Yes, his undergarments are long in the leg but significantly damaged from the injuries he sustained in battle--despite that, he was able to find a spot on his thigh that would conceal the knife and allow him to reach inside the waist of the pants in order to pull it free for use.

[Zorroroaster]

i noticed that the word lingerie is misspelled a few posts back. That there is an autocorrect error, and not a representation of my language skills. It bugs me enough to mention, because I would hate you to think I don't know how to spell!

Orrin is dismayed that there is no further news of his comrades, yet he retains hope. This "Master" doesn't seem the type to just kill his captives. I'm sure he's put them to good use, somehow. Best keep my eyes peeled. he thinks to himself.

Once his shackles have been unlocked, Orrin rubs at where they chafed his skin. "Nobody likes being chained. Not man or beast. Tell me, how did you come to be in the ...employ of the Master? And what do I call you?"

As they walk, Orrin keeps a keen eye on his surroundings, noting as best he can whatever side passages or rooms they pass. He'll try to keep mental track of the number of humanoids he comes across, whether they be orc, dwarf, or something else.

He muses to himself as they move along. I wonder if we are in the Finger itself, or nearby. This stonework is undoubtedly Dwarven. And to think I was on my way to break in here only a few days back, hoping to learn more about those rings we found. And yet, here I am. Better put my eyes to good use and see if I can spot some of the signet designs. It might help me get a better idea of my surroundings.

[Keehnelf]

April 28, 1 VC - 12:10pm

The dwarf looks at Orrin blankly. "I have always been a servant of the Master. Before him, there was only darkness. You may call me Judarr. That is the name given to all the dwarves in the service of the Master. You will be Judarr as well."

Something about that name nags at the back of Orrin's recently-scrambled mind, but he has difficulty placing it in the moment.

Orrin follows Judarr's lead out into the hall and is greeted by the leers of two stooping gnolls with short spears in the same raiment as the others he's spied. They appear to be his guard of honor or his escort. One barks at the other in a rapid, harsh-sounding tongue briefly before they fall in on either side of him, Judarr leading the way down the hall to the left.

Orrin takes in everything he can about his surroundings. He notes that the sconces placed along the halls here are in good condition and have torches placed evenly enough to provide adequate lighting even for those without the ability to see in the darkness or dim lighting. Along the stretch of hallway near his chambers, a half-dozen solid metal doors of fine construction appear along either side, staggered but evenly spaced every twenty feet or so before the hall ends in a set of fine marble steps leading upward. The risers on the steps are lovingly etched with iconic images, runes and scrollwork of dwarven royalty everywhere, and the walls are subtly carved to provide a sense of expansion as the stairs rise above the level of the hall below.

At the top of the steps, the hall continues, the ceiling higher than before and the passage wider (now almost fifteen feet across), with arched openings along either side stretching out into darkness beyond the reach of several lit chandeliers stocked with burning candles that stretch the length of the hall.

As the group of four passes one of the blank arches, a sudden inhuman scream arises from somewhere in the distance, a tortured howl of misery and despair. Judarr pauses for a moment, causing one of the gnolls to bump into him slightly before uttering another guttural command and the dwarf continues on woodenly.

At the far end of the hall, a broad arched doorway almost ten feet wide leads to another rise of marble stairs. At the apex of the arch, a shield-shaped crest is set in the stone, in the middle of which the image of a dragon carved in a circle biting its own tail is carved. The group passes under the arch and up the broad steps, coming out into a vast expanse only dimly alluded to by the light of a variety of open flames burning around the area. The hall itself seems perhaps two hundred feet long and half that wide, with tall, powerful carved columns stretching upward to the vague vicinity of an arched ceiling high above.

There is a bustle of noise, like a crowded street, suddenly, and Orrin realizes that the chamber is occupied--not quite crowded, but inhabited by a large number of creatures. He spots more gnolls, a large quantity of goblins and orcs, a contingent of hobgoblins and even a handful of ogres and a giant of some kind lurking in the gloom, arrayed in a mass in the far half of the chamber, surrounding a raised dais upon which is set a massive stone throne. A sizable portion of the assembled goblinoids are wearing the white tabard with the sinuous red dragon on it, but the majority are dressed in motley armor and equipped with weapons based on their own cultural proclivities. Orrin guesses there might be fifty or so of these assembled creatures here.

Upon the throne sits a bearded humanoid, from far away perhaps a human, in a white robe. Above the throne, hanging suspended on wires from the upper darkness, is a massive platinum disc forged in the shape of the same circular dragon biting its tail that was present on the crest at the base of the stairs. On the right side of the room, behind one flank of the mass of assembled monsters, rises a heap of glittering coins and gems, gold and platinum, ruby and sapphire, that catches the reflected light of the open flames in an ostentatious display of gathered wealth almost ten feet high at its largest mound.

Orrin stops and gapes a moment at the unexpected display, long enough that the seated figure gestures impatiently and one of the gnoll escorts clubs Orrin in the back with the butt of its spear to get him moving again. The crowd of goblinoids parts before him to give access to the base of the dais, and as Orrin approaches the robed figure stands. His long, flowing beard is full and lush, bright red and intricately plaited and ringed with decorations of gold and platinum. His long hair is the same vivid red and knotted into rows of braids that cause it to fall back from his square and stony face. Under the bright white robe, the figure is wearing a set of ornately-carved plate armor with the same circled dragon motif etched into the steel of the breastplate. As he stands and faces Orrin, his mouth breaks into a broad, genial smile that is not echoed in his eyes, and Orrin is struck by the fact that the figure looks every bit the dwarf, only he stands as tall as a man--nearly as tall, perhaps, as Lug. The thought crosses his mind for a moment: is this man perhaps an actual half-giant?

His wonderment is cut short as the man begins to speak, his flawlessly-accented dwarven giving the impression of ancient stones rubbing against one another harmoniously in dark and long-forgotten caverns. "This is my Grand Hall, and you are welcomed as a guest and a friend, Orrin of Vaul. Be at peace and at rest here. Though I am known by many names, you may call me Zyggmaur, Bane of Shadows. I am here to bring light to the world and order out of chaos."

[Zorroroaster]

Orrin stops gaping at the unimaginable wealth and power displayed before him, and turns to look at Zyggmaur.

"Do you strip all of your guests of their possessions before shackling them in a cell, or is that honour saved for guests who are also "friends?" I speak plainly, for I have no doubt you appreciate directness over evasion. My party attacked an outpost of orcs, having had much difficulty as of late in moving about the forests near here. We had no idea they were in your employ. Accept my regrets for any injuries I or my people caused your men. On that point, do my people survive? It would be a courtesy to know their fate."

Orrin looks about, until his eyes find one of the dwarves. He motions to one as he speaks. "As they are all called Judarr, am I to assume it has something to do with punishment related to the actions of Judarr Flamestrike, or his family? If so, know that I am of no relation to these dwarves and do not share their culpability. You will also know from taking my possessions from me, that I held a number of signet rings belonging to the Firedeep clan. I was researching into their history, an interest that brought me to this area. Perhaps you can help me shed some light on that history by telling me some of your own, and how you came to rule this place?"

[Keehnelf]

Zyggmaur's eyebrows arch as Orrin speaks, clearly surprised by the depth of his knowledge. The massive figure raises his left hand, and Orrin can clearly see the shapes of the many rings that had been held by the fallen members of his party adorning the fingers, some doubled up with the thick metal bands.

"It is true that the dwarves who serve me now all bear the name of my hated enemy in recognition of the sins of their ancestors. It is also true that I saved them all from a fate far worse than death when I took them in my employ, and I see that all are treated with fairness and compassion, and are given opportunities to contribute to the prosperity of the future.

"I apologize that I have no good news to give you--the orcs who took you prisoner on my behalf had orders only to bring me dwarves who fell against them, and the violence they inflicted on your friends was...horrific. Apart from the gnolls, they are my most unruly allies, and sometimes it can be difficult to keep their baser impulses in check.

"As for my history, and how I came to be the ruler of this place: clearly you know something of my history already. I am curious to know how you came by this knowledge, and what more you know."

[Zorroroaster]

Orrin clenches his jaw tightly as he learns the fate of his companions. He does his best to keep his emotions in check. "Most unfortunate. They were good loyal people."

He pauses a moment, before continuing.

"As far as your own history I admit to knowing nothing, which is why I asked. I know of Judarr and his lineage from Xavro, a centaur who dwells nearby. He answered my questions pertaining to the rings with his knowledge of the Firedeep clan. He noted that he hadn't had recent dealings with the dwarves, so their more recent history was unknown to him, and thus to me. What I know is what everyone in Vaul knows. Someone has taken residence in the Finger of Doom and the forges are active once again. Beyond that, we know little."

[Keehnelf]

Zyggmaur nods slowly. "Xavro still lives..." he says, softly, though even speaking softly the sound carries across the massive hall quite well. He nods a few more times, rhythmically, eyes closed, before opening them once again and returning to his conversation with Orrin. "Yes, you are correct. The forges are active once more. The dwarves of Firedeep, driven forth from this place once and for all by their own folly and ignorance, will never mine an ingot of mithril out of the depths of the mountain, nor shall they know the heat of the forge-fires on their faces as they lovingly craft their swords and axes..." He trails off, and his mouth parts into a large smile over his ice-blue eyes, emitting a hoarse chuckle.

"My people lived in this land long before Judarr and his father, and their endless brood arrived and attempted to drive me out of this mountain which was my own, solitary, home. I fought the lot of them fiercely, but I was overmatched by force and trickery. I was young, and I was foolish. Naive. Judarr the Betrayer sealed me behind a mithril door nine feet thick in the deepest bowels of the mountain, his father's sword plunged deep into my side and his brothers pinning my arms and legs as he tossed me into a nigh-bottomless pit. He hoped that I would die of starvation or old age before the door would yield before me.

"Judarr is gone. The door is gone. But I remain. That is my story. I have returned for my home, and will bring light back into this forsaken land which has wallowed in darkness for countless ages."

[Zorroroaster]

Orrin casts an appraising eye towards Zyggmaur. "It would seem you were underestimated." He casts an arm towards the array of warriors nearby, also taking in the nearby display of riches. "You clearly seem to have thrived, however. My next question go you would thus be: what would you need of me? I am not of the clan that imprisoned you, so we have no quarrel with one another. I am no stonemason or ironmonger, thus unable to assist in any of your reconstruction efforts."

Orrin pauses a moment, scratching at his beard. "If I may be so bold sire, there is something you may consider. You correctly surmise that I am based out of Vaul. I am well known in that city, perhaps I can be of best use to you as an emissary of sorts. Currently, I doubt your presence is well understood by the Duke. Allow me to speak on your behalf to those in that city who know and trust me. What say you?"

[Keehnelf]

Gah, I lost a big post somehow. I'll try to remember it and re-post

[Keehnelf]

Zyggmaur opens his mouth wide and laughs, a hollow booming sound that resonates throughout the hall. The quiet bustle of the assembled goblinoids quiets immediately, and all eyes turn to the master of the mountain in silent anxiety and expectation.

The last echo of the laugh dies down before Zyggmaur speaks again.

"Indeed it would seem that you underestimate me as well, Orrin of Vaul. I have seen this Duke and his works--I have spoken with him, face to face, and he is little more than a gnat crawling across a scroll as I read it leisurely in my study. I will squash him and smear his guts along the edge of my desk in much the same way." The massive figure squeezes a thick forefinger and thumb together to illustrate. "I care little of what the Duke thinks or knows of my nature and my purpose. And I have no interest in losing my newest prize to a foolish desire for freedom. You will remain here and serve me as is your proper place, but I do enjoy your intellect. This notion of an emissary pleases me..."

He strides purposefully down the steps of the raised dais toward Orrin, causing the guards to either sides to retreat unexpectedly. Orrin suddenly feels conspicuous and exposed as Zyggmaur towers near him, not quite so tall as Lug but certainly broader. Zyggmaur's armor shimmers in the light of the flames--from this close up, Orrin can tell it is made of pure mithril. Once the shock wears off, Orrin becomes aware that Zyggmaur carries an unpleasant stench with him, fetid and earthy like long-buried dung recently exposed to the sun with an intense urine-like smell of body odor beyond what he has ever encountered. Even the orc and the gnolls don't have such an unpleasantly powerful stink.

Zyggmaur sees Orrin's nose wrinkle at the smell and he offers another broad, ice-eyed smile, his large crystal-blue eyes under bushy brows piercing him with their oddly-shaped pupils. He reaches forward suddenly and plucks a hair from the dwarf's head, holding it out in front of him like a treasure.

[Zorroroaster]

Orrin does his best not to show how unsettled he truly is, though part of him believes that Zyggmaur could read him like a book no matter what he did. He takes a step back from the enormous man and stands absolutely still, as if the less he moves the safer he might be.

Saw right through your little ruse, he thinks to himself. So much for a quick exit. Gonna have to play the long game with this brute.

Finally he speaks in a much smaller voice, as if something had broken down inside him. "What do you want of me?"

[Keehnelf]

Zyggmaur's eyes cast back and forth around the chamber furtively in response to Orrin's question. After a moment, the man answers in a self-satisfied tone: "Fetch me...a glass of wine." Zyggmaur gestures off to his left with one hand, toward the massive pile of treasure. The massed goblinoids part, revealing a low oak stand with a metal carafe and a wine glass sitting perched atop it.

[Zorroroaster]

In that moment and with those few words from Zyggmaur something changes within Orrin, hardening inside. He stands a little straighter and for a brief moment seems much taller than his actual stature.

"You call me guest and friend, yet expect me to be a thrall. Your physician intimated that captured dwarves were prized by you as treasures - clearly all you treasure is your own enjoyment at seeing the debasement of others.

A small part of me had hoped there was goodness in you when you talked of bringing light to the world. I had myself half convinced that I could perform good works in your service. Foolishness.

Clearly however, your concept of enlightenment involves subjugation, humiliation, and death. Indeed, you literally reek of it.

I will not submit. Kill me now if you must, or throw me back in a cell. I care not."

Orrin raises his chin and defiantly stares at Zyggmaur.

[Keehnelf]

Zyggmaur throws his head back and laughs again, and a scent like ash wafts out around him as he does so. "Kill you? I think not. As for service...if you would rather die than join my cohort, perhaps one of your former companions could convince you to reconsider. Life could be very difficult for the survivors if you insist on your wrong-headed opposition."

[Zorroroaster]

"You bluff. Your thrall told me none survived but me."

[Keehnelf]

He turns away and begins to reascend the dais. "I assume you have a few moments to wait." He calls out toward the assembled crowd near the treasure-pile. "Bring the woman."

He seats himself on the throne once again. The giant departs the chamber through an entrance on one side, returning ten minutes later with Adrienne, dressed in a long white robe with a black leather belt cinched around it. She appears somnolent, her head lolling to one side somewhat. Zyggmaur calls out to her gently: "Hedrith, good of you to make it."

She looks up sleepily, her eyes searching him out, and her weathered huntswoman's face splits into a happy grin. "Master--good to see you."

Zyggmaur looks back over at Orrin. "Truth rests in my hand alone. As soon as you learn this, your existence will be much easier."

[Zorroroaster]

"Truth exists independantly of anyone's hand. Her name is Adrienne, and was hired on as a guide before leaving Vaul. There were others. Three or four others. And yes, clearly I have time to wait."

[Keehnelf]

"But does she?" He makes a motion with one hand and the giant steps forward, grabbing Adrienne by one arm and jerking her up off the ground. She offers seemingly no resistance to the assault, hanging limply from the creature's outstretched hand.

[Zorroroaster]

Orrin looks at what was once Adrienne sadly. "You have clearly enslaved her body, and likely broken her mind in the process. That is no longer the Adrienne I knew. It is something else. You attempt to enslave me through a coercion too perverse to believe. I will not bend to your tyranny. My answer stands. I will not submit."

Orrin whispers softly to himself as he looks at what was once Adrienne. "I am truly sorry. Adrienne. Marthammor Duin, hear my prayer. Deliver me from this torment, aid me against this creature of death and despair. Please, heed me."

A single tear runs down Orrin's scarred cheek.

[Keehnelf]

Zyggmaur chuckles once again. "Oh, you're a hard one, aren't you? So you're willing to give up her future for your own pride, based on the belief that whatever's been done to her is somehow irreversible?" He shakes his head. "Well, I wouldn't have the balls to be so callous if I were in your shoes, but I salute you for your bravado."

He makes a gesture toward the giant, who picks the young woman up and carries her away.

"We'll talk tomorrow about your friend the cleric of Pelor. He's been a tougher nut to crack, mentally, but I think his body will prove much softer in the long run."

He waves a hand and the gnoll escort moves to return Orrin to his quarters.