Jason Aller Floppy Collection/122.img/DWDOC.ZIP/DWPARA2.DOC

Text File | 1990-03-12 | 39KB | 588 lines

                                 Dragon Wars
                                 by Interplay

                               Paragraphs 51-100

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51.  You walk beside a clean and stylish harbor.  Although you are near the
sea, this place has none of the stink associated with Oceana's coastal
places... either Freeport is not sinking, or the port is engineered such that
seepage is not the problem here that it is elsewhere in the world. The
construction here is simple but attractive.  There's rustic feeling associated
with the unfinished wood railings, folaige, and crisp scent to the air.

52.  To the south is a little island in the harbor.  Standing in the center of
the island is an avil; plunged to the hilt within the anvil is a brilliantly
gleaming magic sword.  There seems no way to the island...the water here
seethes and boils with magical energy.  It doesn't take much imagination to
surmise a swim to the island would be fatal.  A Freeport citizen notices your
interest in the island.  "That is the Sword of Freedom," he says.  "Many years
ago, the great hero Roba delivered it from the Underworld.  After many years
of adventuring, Roba retired here and founded our city.  Shortly before his
death, Roba built this magical island to protect his sword."  The citizen is
silent for a moment before continuing.  "Legend says that so long as the sword
remains in the anvil, no harm can come to Freeport," he says.  "At the same
time, Roba warned a time would come of great strife on Oceana.  He said a
champion would appear one day to claim the sword.  He who wields the Sword of
Freedom will quell the strife in Oceana, but at the same time will doom our
city.  Such is the sacrifice we must someday make."  The citizen wishes you
well and leaves.  The Sword of Freedom is just out of your reach.  It seems to
taunt you.  How to get it?  How to get it...?

53.  In this cell you find a weak young man dressed in soiled motley.  "Good
evening ladies and germs, it's good to be back at the palace," he says as you
enter his cell.  "A funny thing happened to me on the way to the dungeon."
The poor man was obviously a court jester.  "I ran into Sir Loin of Pork this
afternoon--he said he was about to become Baron of Greymatter."  This guy
really stinks.  If wiser men than you consigned this man to the dungeons, who
are you to set him free.  "I got a million of 'em," the jester says, seeming
to notice you for the first time and perking up considerably.  This confirms
your worst fears, and you slam and lock the cell door.  "Cancel the
Renaissance--it looks like a reign of terror!."  Even Namtar has a good idea
now and then.

54.  "Thanks for putting me back together--I feel sweel!"  Lanac'toor grins.
"I was a little nervous when you put my arms on backwards, but I guess I'll
get used to it.  Having my elbows bend the wrong way will make it easier for
me to scratch my back!"

55.  A yawning chasm stretches before you.  A violent gust of hot wind rises
from the chasm...the void must reach to the very roots of the world, below
even the Underworld.  Out of the chasm, starting an unknowable distance
beneath you and stretching as far as the eye can see, you view a vomitous mass
of irregular black stone.  The tower stands piled atop itself and is at once
designed and chaotic..from one angle it looks like a sorcerer's stronghold,
while from another it seems like the exposed spine of a fantastic beast.
Perhaps it is not really there at all.  More likely it exists in more than one
dimension at the same time, and is thus difficult to see in its entirety.  One
thing is certain...this tower has nothing to do with god, or salvation, or
pilgrims.  This is a tower of Evil.  This is the Tower of Namtar!

56.  A tall and powerfully built man with a greenish complexion greets you
when you enter the building.  "I am Tarkas, first citizen of Tars," he says.
You learn that he and his fellow officers fled here to Freeport when their
home city of Tars was destroyed by the legions of Kingshome.  Tars was
previously the foremost city of the Isle of Forelorn  Now Tars is a sad ruin,
while Purgatory passes for the isle's only city.  If you explore the ruins of
Tars, Tarkas says, be sure to seek the hidden chambers beneath the city--they
might still contain fabulous treasures.  Tarkas is bitter when he recalls the
ruin of his city.  "We were betrayed," he says.  "We relied on our dragon to
defend us.  We didn't dream Kingshome would be so bold to assault us when our
dragon was healthy and awake.  When they lay siege to our city, we released
our dragon...and the beast did nothing!  A hundred years of blood sacrifice to
that terrible dragon, and what good did it do us in our hour of need?"  Tarkas
grows animated as he speaks, accidentally smashing a table as he excitedly
flails his arms.  "I tell you, Namtar found a way to usurp control of our
dragon!  Since Namtar rose Kingshome against all of Dilmun, dragons have all
but vanished!  Namtar controls them somehow...but no man can control the
saurians without paying a terrible price.  If someone could learn what he's
done with the dragons--and learn how to wrest their control from Namtar...then
Kingshome would learn a thing or two!"

57.  This simple hall serves as the community meeting place for the citizens
of Freeport.  You are greeted by minor city officials who welcome you to their
town and eagerly ask you for information of the war in Dilmun.  "These are
dark days," the official says.  "Soon Kingshome will control all of Dilmun,
then Namtar will cast his evil gaze toward the Eastern Isle and our fair
city."  The official scratches his head.  "It's odd," he says.  "My father was
an advisor to the court of King Drake at Kingshome.  He said Drake was a
peaceful old man.  His son, Jordan of Byzanople, was a regular firebrand...but
not Drake.  Why suddenly make war on his neighbors?  It doesn't make any
sense...Namtar must have poisoned him."  The official shrugs.  "I wonder if
something's happened to him.  King Drake hadn't been seen in public for over a
year when I was last in Phoebus, and that was some time ago.  Maybe something
happened to him."

58.  After a long wait, you shuffle onto the block with a host of other
unfortunates.  You are in better shape than the poor wretches that surround
you, and your group is instantly the subject of spirited bidding.  YOu shudder
as you are sold to a man with a fat neck for more gold than you are likely to
see in a lifetime.  You are led away from the slave auction and linked one to
another by a continuous sequence of chains and collars.  Presently your new
master appears and introduces himself.  "I am Master Mog," he says.  "From
this moment on, I am your mother, I am your father, I am your God, I am your
world.  I am Mog--Mog is All.  Abandon all hope of freedom.  You are my
property, to do with as I please."  Mog leaves you to the hands of his slave
bosses, who spend the next several weeks attempting to break your spirit.
During this time you are loaded aboard a painfully slow cog and sail to Master
Mog's estate.  You are afforded a brief glimpse of Mog's luxurious palace
before you are led beneath the earth and introduced to Mog's salt mines.  Then
begins a mind-numbing series of repetitious chores.  You are not permitted to
leave the mines.  You work, sleep, and eat in the same series of identical
tunnels, never permitted to see the sun.

59.  You are admitted to the camp and immediately pressed into service.  The
army makes no attempt to provision or train you--it's evident they consider
you a band of cutthroats, and that they like you just the way you are.  You
are billeted in a siege camp located a few miles south of the walled city of
Byzanople, which for months has stubbornly resisted the enlightenment of
joining the unified Kingshomer Empire under Namter and King Drake.  The
besieging Kingshomer army is preparing to take the city by storm.  You are to
be among the waves of unfortunates they wish to send over the wall.  You may
not take kindly to this idea, but there are many more of them than there are
of you, and this is no opportunity to desert.

60.  These cramped quarters serve as home for Mog's unfortunate slaves.  Men
sleep fitfully on the cold rock floor, encumbered by the stout chains that
bind them one to another.  An examination of your companions proves your
chains will never be removed--some of the sleeping men are still chained to
companions who have long since passed away.

61.  The dying man gratefully gulps water from your cup.  "You are angels," he
says.  "I want to die, but not alone, and certainly not thristy!"  The man
wipes his mouth with his wrist.  His parched lips crack and smear his wrist
with blood.  "Not much longer," he says with a wan smile.  "When I'm gone, I
want you to have these."  The dying man shows you his boots.  The soles are
entirely worn away, but the tops are still secured by stout leather laces.
"The boots aren't much good, but the laces are strong--maybe you can do
something with them."  The old man is abruptly seized with a coughing fit.
You know the end is near.  "I hope you fare better then me," he croaks.

62.  The last of the guards drops dead and silence claims the mines.  A ladder
leads up out of the salt mines.  In the dim distance you can see sunlight for
the first time in uncountable hours, days, or months.  Freedom is at hand.
But what awaits you at the top of the shaft?

63.  Several people are huddled around a fire.  One of them offers you some
stew which you eagerly accept--it's bland and watery, but it's the first hot
food you've had in days and you eat every drop.  After your meal you doze off
by the fire, grateful to at last be in the company of charity and good will.
When you awaken, you feel as if you've been reborn.

64.  You stand before the gleaming city of Lansk.  The streets are clean, the
people are orderly, and while the city is walled, there is no gate.  None of
the busy citizens you spy carries a weapon.  The city shows no sign of war or
occupation.  However, it does seem like a very rich place, and you can detect
a faint smell of dragon in the air...

65.  This guard room is occupied by several menacing men who stand when you
enter.  "Well...look at this." one of them sneers.  "Our prisoners have
'escaped'.  We have to 'recapture' them--perhaps several times."  The guards
begin to clos in.  "Remember, men, these prisoners were trying to escape...we
won't be accused of beating prisoners in their cells again!"

66.  This is Phoebus' incredible Temple of the Sun, renown all across the worl
dof Oceana.  The sun's warm rays shine into an open atrium, bathing the broad
leaves of a variety of exotic heliotropic plants.  Acolytes of the temple are
busy about on mysterious tasks.  The floor is inscribed with a gold design
depicting the motion of Oceana and her sister planets.  From some unseen
chamber you hear the soothing sound of running water.  A gold curtain swings
aside and a short, swarthy man enters the chamber.  He is dressed in blue
robes inscribed with stars and moons, and wears a pointed cap.  It seems the
man very much wants to look like a wizard, but has no idea of what wizards
actually look like.  "I am Mystalvision, High Priest of the Temple of the
Sun," say the wizard in a comically high and wet voice.  "You are to be
commended for making it this far.  I don't care that you cracked out of
Purgatory, but your behavior since entering my city ahs been intolerable."
Mystalvision snaps his fingers, and several cruel gentlemen dressed all in
black appear out of nowhere.  "Namtar's Stosstrupen would like to ask you some
questions," Mystalvision sneers.  "I should ask you to come along quietly, but
it will be more fun to do this the hard way."

67.  This is an open-air slave market, filled with the cry of fleshmongers and
the laughter of a perfumed crowd.  Here men and women are for sale--people
such as yourselves--to the jaded residents of the Dilmun interior.  From the
gate of the slave market you watch as several young men are auctioned off.
They seem less healthy than yourselves--maybe they've been in the city longer
than you.  It seems a sad way out of this place, to make yourself a
slave...but isn't anything better than a life of misery and slow death in the
streets of Purgatory?  You scan the crowd, anxious to measure the character of
citizens of the Dilmun interior.  Their faces seem cruel and aristocratic,
with a faint hint of the more-than-human.  Here and there you spot a face that
seems kinder than most, but if you were on the block, what guarantee would you
have of receiving a kind master?  Could you truly live with yourself as a
slave?  There is a long line of lost souls waiting for the auction block.
Nothing will stop you should you decide to join them.

68.  The door to this hut is open, and from within your hear someone singing.
Entering the hut, you see a simple room...a pile of straw serves as a bed,
while a candle burns on a large rock that passes as a table.  Behind the rock
you see a sad man who seems very old.  His eyes are empty sockets and both his
hands have been amputated at the wrist.  You wonder why a blind man burns
candles when he's alone.  The man stops singing and swings his head in your
direction when you enter.  "You must be the outsiders everyone's so excited
about," he says with a firm voice.  "I can seem Purgatory on you.  Please come
in.  I'd like to see some new faces...provided I could see."  You learn the
man's name is Carson.  He was a sorcerer at the Temple of the Sun, in Phoebus.
"That was before Namtar rose from the Pit," says Carson, pausing to spit.
"Damn Underworld types should stay in their own world."  You talk with Carson
well into the evening, pumping him for information.  You learn that Namtar is
either a demon or a man--Carson seems to use the terms interchangeably.  About
a year ago Namtar appeared at the court of King Drake in Kingshome, and was
welcomed as the court magician.  Within a year, Kingshome had mobilized and
began making war on its neighbors.  At the same time, Namtar announced a
general ban on magic, using his secret police--the Stosstrupen--to enforce
the ban.  A great magical war ensued, which Namtar and the Stosstrupen won
handily.  "Now sorcery is all but dead in Dilmun," Carson continues.  "Take a
look at me.  Ten years learning Sun Magic and it leads to this!  Al the old
Masters are gone...Lanac'toor was finally driver over the edge and shattered
into a score of pieces; Zaton exiled to the deep wilderness; and
Mystalvision..." Caron is silent for a long time, then says, "I can't prove
it, but I always though Mystalvision was wrapped up with Namtar.  He's the
High Priest at the Temple of the Sun.  Our Order fell to Namtar so
quickly...we must have een betrayed.  Beware of Mystalvision!"  You talk with
Carson late into the night, but learn little else of value.  He is either
unwilling or unable to teach you any magic.  Heeding his advice, you take your
leave of the old man.

69.  When no one is looking, you crawl into an open sack filled with
disgustingly fresh corpses.  You lay still as the sack is crudely sewed shut.
The darkness of the tomb descends upon you as the bag is closed.  None to
gently, the entire sack is heaved onto the backs of the slaves.  Dead arms
embrace you, long fingernails claw at your hair, rotting grave mould seems to
penetrate your body.  There is a lurch and a rasp as the bag clears the wall,
and then you fall.  Your flesh crawls with anticipation.  Will you meet your
end, smashed to death with a host of corpses on some unseen rocky spire?  Or
will you splash into the warm waters of Oceana, at long last free from the
stinking hell of Purgatory?  You splash.  You sink.  You struggle.  At last
you win free of the sack, and the dead hands that drag at you seemingly
resently of the life you display.  Lungs bursting, you break from the water at
the base of the harbor wall, and quickly clamber aboard some debris you find
floating close by and strike out for shore.

70.  The mighty oaks intertwine above your head to form a living gateway to
this enchanted forest.  A fresh coat of sparking dew lays over everything,
lending a fantastic quality to the scene.  The ground is covered with an
inviting blanket of green moss.  Faerie lights glimmer from within the boles
of dark yet pleasant trees.  This is a magical place.

71.  Much to the garrison's dismay, the gates of Byzanople prove little
obstacle for you.  The Kingshomer army streams through the open gate and makes
short work of the outnumbered city garrison.  Byzanople has fallen.  After
putting the garrison to the sword, the victorious Kingshomer soldiers
gleefully get down to some serious pillaging.  Buck Ironhead, the commander of
the Kingshomer siege camp, appears from the chaos.  "I've got to hand it to
you," he says, "you really did a job on these Byzanople jerks!  Now Namtar's
control of Dilmun is complete.  I'm sure the Beast From The Pit will want to
thank you personally."  Ironhead smiles when you remind him of your bargain.
"I haven't forgotten, I assure you...but seeing as how you threw in with me so
easily, I doubt you have any real sense of honor.  I wouldn't trust you clowns
as far as I could throw you!"  Buck stands back as several of his soldiers
gather around.  "Put these traitors in irons!" he snarls.  The guards close
in.  It's an epic fight, but no heroes can long withstand sheer weight of
numbers.  Everything goes blank as the last of your party falls to the dust.

72.  This shrine is formed from rocks and wood and moss--it seems a profoundly
natural thing, more an outgrowth of this enchanted wood than a thing built by
man.  The divinity worshiped here is none you recognize, but the feeling of
the place is one of harmony with nature.  Upon closer inspection, you see
dried bloodstains on the rock.  The stains are not large--this shrine is not
used for sacrifice--but perhaps its resident god is awakened by a token gift
of life.

73.  This hidden glade is charged with magical energy.  The rocks marking this
clearing form a ring of deliberately-placed standing stones, the focus of
which is upon the earth where you now stand.  You feel power rushing from the
roots of the earth and into your soul.  Enkidu himself stands and regards you.

74.  Old Jack's eyes grow bright when you show him the signet ring.  "His
majesty...?" Jack whispers.  You sadly shake your head, indicating Drake is
dead.  Tears form in Jack's eyes as he sighs.  "Me poor, poor king...I knew
ye'd come to no good with that demon Namtar!"  After showing him your ring,
Jack treats you like an honored guest, forgiving all your misdeeds in the
forest.  "I'm a King's man, ye got ta believe that," he says.  "I love me King
an' I never disobeyed him.  But I never like the looks o' that Namtar--he's a
very devil, he is!  It must have been 'im wot killed old Drake."  Old Jack
pauses to spit.  "Someone's got to bring Namtar down, and clear the way for
young Prince Jordan to take the throne.  You've got the ring, so you're it!"
Old Jack solemnly hands you his bow.  "This here's me bow, I call her
Nevermiss!  Drake gave her to me when we were both boys, and she's never
failed me.  Now I give her to you, to shoot down that foul Namtar!"  Jack is
hesitant to release the bow, and even as you hold it his eyes linger on the
weapon.  "She's like a lady, she is...you treat her kind.  You treat her
kind."  Jack is abruptly eager to leave.  He refuses to leave the forest,
saying it's his only home.  He wishes you all good luck and melts into the
woods.  He will never be seen again.

75.  After what seems an eternity, you locate the source of the screaming.
Nearly mad yourselves, you find a city of the mad squatting on a desolate
shore.  Feeble huts made of driftwood and debris huddle together in a feeble
pile.  White-haired loons with wild eyes stumble to and fro, mumbling to
themselves or shrieking like cats.  Crazed citizens of the place wrestle with
one another, seeming like writhing human serpents.  It's a madhouse, and the
inmates are running the asylum.

76.  A mad artist inscribes designs on the sandy floor of his hut.  "I don't
have to do this, you know," he says as you enter.  It's uncertain if he's
talking to you, or if you walk in on him while he was talking to himself.  "I
can make a good living as a tattoo artist!" he continues.  "But I will draw on
you, mother earth, because everyone else draws from you.  You.  Who.  Moo.
Moo?"  The artist jumps up and bounds about the hut.  "Moo!  Moo!" he howls.
"Don't you see?  It's all so clear.  At last!  At last!"  The poor man rushes
past you and is quickly lost int he village of the lost.

77.  Amid the ruins you come upon a remarkable sight.  A bonfire illuminates a
shattered city square.  Scores of people cavort about the fire--this is the
greatest gathering of people you've seen since arriving in Purgatory.  The
occupants of the square constitute a cross-section of Purgatory's citizenry.
Blind beggars, mad poets, dog-faced children, and drunken priests swarm about
the fire like moths to a flame; drinking, sining, loving, bleeding, brawling.
Above them all, seated on a rude throne of stacked masonry, you see a man you
surmise to be the king of this place.  If he is a king, he is a king of
thieves.  Astounded by this strange sight, you do not notice until it is too
late a score of scoundrels sneaking up on you.  Surrounded by rogues, you are
urged toward the fire, where you come under the gaze of the figure on the
throne.  "Outlanders!," the king roars, teetering atop his perilous perch.
"You've strayed far from your homes, little does and kittens.  This is the
court of Miracles, gather to pay homage to the King of Purgatory..." the king
pauses, awaiting the proper moment before continuing, "...me, Clopin
Trouillefou!"

78.  A group of ragged unfortunates sun themselves on this dismal coastline.
They sit in folding beach chairs, some beneath the shade of colorful beach
parasols.  All the men and women are dressed in rags.  Few have teeth; fewer
still have a proper tan.  The day is cold and grey.  "Hail Namtar!" a woman
cries.  "Great is he to take such care of us!  What have we to want for?"  A
one-armed young man elbows you in the ribs, and says with a sidelong wink,
"Quite a little resort we got here, wouldn't you say?  Boy, that Namtar sure
is a swell egg!"  "This is a ritzy place--nothing less than a king retired
here!" cackles another.  Similar comments come at every turn.  You find this
place is called Toxic Beach, and these poor lunatics think it's some sort of
beach resort to which they've been sent as reward for faithful service to
Namtar.  A few bloated dead rats have washed up on the bleached coastline.  An
odd tumble of rocks marks the north end of the shore.  The rocks are covered
with debris, as if the remains of a shipwreck have washed up here.

79.  There is a deep rumbling as storm clouds gather.  Abruptly rain begins to
fall in relentless sheets, threatening to flood the stone, the forest, the
entire world.  A supernatural hush falls over the glade.  Even the pelting
rains seems to fall silent.  Suddenly you are surrounded by animals--bears,
dogs, deer, ducks, and even a penguin.  You turn and see still more animals
crowding outside the door to the shrine.  You see a lion lay down beside a
lamb.  The animals are waiting for something.  Above the stone appears the
ghost of Zaton.  The ghost speaks, "My friends, I am forever in your debt for
liberating my soul.  By restoring me to the world, the world restores itself.
The natural order is reestablished.  Man and beast may again live in harmony."
The animals begin to excitedly roar, bark, and bray.  "My time in this world
is done," Zaton says.  "But for you brave adventurers the task is just
beginning.  Namtar is evil!  He must be destroyed!  To you I grant the boon of
knowledge...use it well!"

80.  The center post of these communal huts shelters a secret chamber.  A
skeleton dressed in the royal colors of Kingshome sits on a makeshift throne.
Whoever this was, he's been dead a long time.  A royal signet ring gleams on
one skeletal finger.  The ring seems both valuable and important.

81.  A dwarf springs up as you enter the room.  He eagerly scans your party,
then collapses in disappointment.  "No dwarves," he weeps.  "Never are there
any dwarves.  Poor Josephina is all alone."  The dwarf has a woman's name, but
it's bearded and it smells and...well, no matter, Josephina is probably just
as crazy as everyone else in this silly town.  "The kingdom is broken," cries
Josephina.  "The great clanhall is sealed, and all the dwarves slumber int he
valuts.  Namtar stole the eyes from our icon and hurled them into the sea.
Every day I search the coast, but never do I find the eyes."  Josephina
continues to weep, hardly aware of you presence.

82.  Nisir, the Mountain of Salvation, rises above you to an impossibly great
height, seeming to rip the sky.  Although it is daytime, when you look up you
can see stars near where you guess the summit of the mighty mountain must be.
It seems to you the mountain must push through the very atmosphere of Oceana
to produce such a sight.  Ahead of you, a long line of pilgrims slowly files
past the sole gate leading from the harbor.

83.  A prisoner lies babbling in the corner.  "A secret tunnel connects this
prison to the Nisir", he says.  "When you find the swamp within the mountain,
know you are near Namtar!"

84.  The pilgrims stop one-by-one to kneel before this elaborate shrine before
continuing.  The shrine depicts the image of the Universal God, a faceless
deity that look sin all directions at once, and raises its arms to encompass
both earth, heaven, and underworld.  You note with relief that not even Namtar
has dared to undermine the basic faith of Oceana.  The pilgrims evidently
expect enlightenment and salvation to result from their visit to Nisir.  You
expect salvation of a different kind--the sort that can come only from sending
Namtar to his doom.

85.  It is several days' sail to Nisir, the Mountain of Salvation, but the
route is easy to follow.  The great mountain Nisir seems to rise from the
roots of Oceana and reach to the heavens--it is easily the tallest mountain on
the planet, and you are in sight of your destination for most of the journey.
The harbot at Nisir is clogged with pilgrim's vessels.  Several hundred robed
figures crowd the docks, slowly passing through the harbor's only exit into
the interior.  The great mountain of Nisir looms above you, stern and
forbidding.  You sense a moment of destiny is at hand.

86.  You are pressed into service and sent directly to the front.  The army
makes no attempt to provision or train you--it's evident they consider you a
band of cutthroats, and that they like you just the way you are.  A troop ship
conveys you to King's Island, where the walled city of Byzanople stubbornly
resists the enlightenment of joining the unified Kingshomer Empire under
Namtar and King Drake.  Byzanople has been under siege for several months, and
the besieging Kingshomer army is preparing to take the city by storm.  You are
to be among the waves of unfortunates they wish tos end over the wall.  You
may not take kindly to thise idea, but there are many more of them than there
are of you, and this is no opportunity to desert.  You are billeted in a siege
camp located a few miles south of the actual siege.

87.  Directly ahead you see the semi-permanent camp of the Kingshomer campaign
army.  The army occupies a valley between two mounatin peaks.  A wooden
palisade has been erected across the mouth of the valley, providing the camp
with a measure of protection against raiders from the south.  There is no
evidence of an enemy army anywhere in the area.  From the looks of the camp,
it seems likely this is a base from which the Kingshomer army is besieging an
enemy fortress or city.  Several guards lounge before the entrace to the camp.
They eye you with suspicion.

88.  Within this building you find a group of old men gathered around a table.
They're playing dice and speaking rapidly to each other in a dialect you can
barely understand.  You are noticed and welcomed into the game.  The men play
for the joy of it.  There's a complicated wagering scheme involved, but no
money ever changes hands, and the men don't seem to care if you're rich or
destitute.  After a while, you begin to make sense of their speech.  It seems
these men are residents of the Dilmun interior, displaced to this island of
outlanders by war and oppression.  From them you learn a little of recent
events in Dilmun.  The dilmun interior consits of several large islands, each
of which is dominated by an autonomous city-state.  Warefare has been frequent
between the rival cities, but no single nation has ever been able to rule all
the others.  Each city keeps a dragon captive somewhere within its walls--if
total disaster ever threatens, the dragon will be let loose.  This would also
certainly lead to the destruction of both sides, but it serves as a deterrent
to conquest.  Recently, the city of Kingshome launched a bid for empire.
Kingshome's imperialism was aided by a sorcerer--Namtar, the Beast From the
Pit.  Thanks to Namtar, all magical opposition was quickly overwhelmed, and
Kingshome made rapid gains.  For some uunknown reason, the conquered cities
never launched their dragons against Kingshome.  The youngest of the men
arrived at the camp just a few months ago.  So far as he knows, nearly all of
Dilmun's cities have been conquered or lay in ruins.  The city of Byzanople on
the King's Isle remains free, although it has been under siege for several
months.  He also mentions a city called Freeport in the Eastern Isles, but his
companions scoff when he does, saying Freeport is more myth than reality.
Nevertheless, the young man asserts he'll find Freeport someday--as soon as he
can find a ship bound for the Eastern Isles.  Since the war, very few ships
travel the interior waterways, and it has become increasingly difficult to use
dilmun's many bridges.

89.  You restrain the hunchback and prevent him from hurling the prisoner into
the pit.  Tears flow from the hunchback's already swollen eyes.  "Buth
Gethtrude must eat!" he mumbles.  The dragon's thrashing intensifies, and the
great beast begins beating its head against the side of its pit, setting up a
great rumbling through the dungeon.  "Now thuh manue hath hit thuth windmill!"
the hunchback howls, trying to flee down the narrow causeway to the edge of
the pit.  He doesn't make it...with a great booming, the dragon lurches from
his chains, bumping against the platform on which you stand.  The hunchback is
hurled screaming into the maw of the dragon...but now that the beast is free
of its chains, no mere morsel can satisfy it!  You flee the scene as the
dragon smashes at the supports of the dungeon, and in so doing at the
foundation of the entire city of Phoebus.  You find a crazy path to the
surface uncovered by the dragon's rage.  You flee the vicinity of the city and
watch from a nearby hill as the dragon claws its way to the surface.  Before
long, Phoebus is a flaming ruin as the dragon takes its terrible toll.  The
city destroyed, the dragon slowly rises into the sky, and flaps off to the
east.

90.  This is the office of the supreme commander of the campaign army of
Kingshome.  General Buck Ironhead regards you from behind his desk.  Ironhead
is a frightening sight.  His arms are a mass of scar tissue from a sequence of
wounds too tedious to list.  His face shows no mirth.  His hands continually
clench and unclench.  His head is completely flat--you could balance an egg on
it.  "It's about time ya goldbricks showed up!" Buck snarls.  "What do ya
think this is--a soggin' country club??  Ain't ya ever heard of reporting to
yer commandin' officer??"  Buck doesn't wait for a reply.  "Now, I know you
clowns are a pick of liberal adventurers.  You don't like Namtar, you don't
like the army--kid's today!!  Ungrateful whelps!  Well, I don't care about any
of that.  I'm here to give you a second chance."  Buck comes out from behind
his desk and hobbles around his office as he continues.  "You're in the army
whether you like it or not, so you might as well do this the easy way.  You
may think you've got this thing licked, but I know damn well you can't tell
your elbow from a dragon's blowhole.  You keep your nose clean and serve with
some distinction at the front, and I'll do what I can about gettin' you a full
pardon.  Namtar's a megalomaniac, but he's also a businessman, and he needs
creeps like you!"  Buck dismisses you.  "This is yer only chance.  Namtar's
gonna control everything sooner or later, so you might as well join the
winning side.  Namtar's promised a kinderr and gentler Oceana, but he can't
get on with it until guys like you toe the line.  "Get outta here!!"

91.  Some bandits were evidently holed up here.  Their campfire is still warm.
Evidently they were eating a meal when you showed up, as half-finished bowls
of gruel stand all around the fire.  They weren't very good bandits, or maybe
they hadn't been at it for long.  There isn't much loot to be had in this
camp.  Maybe they were adventurers such as yourselves, turn to crime in these
hard times.

92.  The magnificent stag lays dead.  As you kneel beside your kill, the shaft
of an arrow buries itself to the feathers in the sod between your feet.  You
look up and see an old but very dangerous-looking man aiming yet another arrow
at you.  "This is the private preserve of King Drake," the old man says.  "An'
you have been poachin'."  He glances over your party before continuing.
"These bein' hard times, I imagine ye gots to eat...but that was a prize
animal ye just killed, and I've gots to do me job."  The man keeps his bow
half-cocked and watches you closely.  He seems to be waiting for you to make
the first move.  Maybe it would be worth winning his trust.

93.  "BRAAAAAP!" Nergal is crude.  "That was delicious...I will hallucinate
later, and imagine Irkalla working for a living."  Nergal shifts his ponderous
mass on his throne, leans forward, and leers.  "And now you will serve
Nergal!"  With impossible speed, Nergal grabs the volunteer with both slimy
hands.  His jaw seems to drop down to his belt as the black maw of his mouth
is exposed.  He quickly slips the volunteer's head into his mouth, and
clenches his jaw with a sickening crunch.  The volunteer's body stiffens, then
goes lijmp, collapsing to the ground without a head.  All is silent.  Nergal
smiles.

94.  You recall learning of waters like this during your mystic studies.  The
pool of water ahead fits the description of Apsu Waters...waters of the world
ocean that underlies the surface of Oceana.  Apsu Waters are coterminous with
the world of Oceana, the mystical Magan Underworld, and dark dimensions where
gods and devils reside.

95.  The slave boss is relentless.  He offers you not a moment's rest, nor a
drop of water, or even a scrap of bread.  All that matters it that the tunnel
be completed.  NO single man or beast may stand in the way of the project.
Night and day you are driven to finish your task, with the sharp last of the
whip on your back, and the laughter of the cruel slave boss ringing in your
ears.

96.  An old man leaps to his feet and lunges for his bow when you enter the
shack.  "Glory be-ye got past me snare!!", he exclaims.  "That quite a feat,
but it still don't do to go bargin' in on honest folks without so much as a
knock!"
"Me name is Old Jack," he continues.  "I'm the gamewarden hereabouts." Jack
keeps his bow half-cocked and watches you closely.  He seems to be waiting for
you to make the first move.  Maybe it would be forth winning his trust.

97.  The long line of white-robed pilgrims ends at this rocky shrine.  One by
one the pilgrims pass before a huge and powerful image of the Universal God.
There are no guards here.  None are required.  The God keeps its own order
beneath its on roof.
Looking up into the faceless face of the god, you feel
the hand of destiny upon you.  Namtar has not yet attempted to supplant
Oceana's primary religion...but can that day be far away?  The gods risk
disaster when they come to the world in person-they must work through
champions to see their will is done.  The Universal God seems to need a
champion, a legendary hero to serve the cause of Freedom.  Roba of Freeport
was such a hero.  Will you be another? The God requires a sign.

98.  You climb the Mountain of Salvation for several hours, but the summit
seems to draw no closer.  Several pilgrims drop from exhaustion along the
path...the road to salvation is not for the weak of heart.
But a fraction of the way up the mountain, the path abruptly cuts into the
rock.  A level plain has been cleared in the side of the mountain.  This is
evidently the place to which the pilgrims travel.  Turning around, you look
out at the world of Oceana from your lofty perch on the world's highest
mountain.  To your alarm, you see you have long since risen above even the
highest clouds.  The sky is purple and strange stars twinkle-the huge bloated
mass of the sun fully fills half the sky.  Truly, this place is close to God.

99.  In this stuffy bedroom you find a journal.  From it you determine the
master of this house as a man named Mog, a rich aristocrat ho made his fortune
in the mining business.  By all accounts he as a crude man-wealthy but
uncultured-ho fancied himself an artist.  The journal is largely given over a
remarkably frank account of Mog's failure as an artist.
Mog admits to experimenting with alchemy in pursuit of his art.  At one point
he confesses using a potion to transform living flesh into stone, but the
artistic results were not satisfactory.
Near the end of the journal Mog mentions "acquiring an apprentice" by
supernatural means.  It seems this apprentice was originally supposed to
assist Mog in his art.  Toward the end of the journal Mog admits the
apprentice has begun producing incredible works of art which Mog displays in
his garden and calls his own.  Mog hints that the apprentice demands a
terrible price for his art, and that he fears him.  It is possible the
apprentice might not be human.

100.  Off the beaten path you find this is a temple to the Magan Underworld.
This seems a considerably older place than the other structure on this
plateau.  The Underworld was before there was a was, and doubtless it will
still thrive when all of Oceana has long since burned off into the void.

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