GoCorral

Host Barakah

Wishing to interrupt the planning with a little levity, Barakah invited Tagenadi, Eathirilu, Danar, Hektor, and Zelus to the kingdom he’d built for himself in the Great Valley. The party popped off to the hobgoblin village in the center of the valley a mile from the valley lake. The hobgoblins had erected a feast tent and the smells of various simple desert foods wafted outward from the tent’s folds into the November air.

Barakah lifted the tent flap and bade his guests to enter. Inside four trolls and three hobgoblin women lined themselves up to greet the party. “These are my wives!” Barakah said in his booming voice. Indicating the trolls, “Fishswordhammer, Rumpshaker, Toothy Mouth, and Gurglum One-Finger,” and indicating the hobgoblins, “Shee-ti-la, Nu-fwique, and Xer-alia.”

The honored guests sat and were treated to the humble food and drink of the Great Valley. They discussed their plans for the Museum heist and what their lives would be like after the war. Barakah spoke at length about his plans to rebuild the ancient kingdom of the Eimlaq Rimal, the sand giant people. He aimed to reestablish his people’s dominion over the Shacklack Desert and its inhabitants. True, he was the only remaining sand giant, but he could breed new children with a lesser giant race.

The rest of the party was offput by Barakah’s talk. The sand giant kingdom was strong long ago, but it existed before the Olympian gods came to Cimmeria. Barakah worshiped the older gods, the Goblin gods. Observing the gods in those forms was… wrong. The food and cultural differences in the tent didn’t help matters.

“I see you are finished eating,” said Barakah. “Come! Let us go to the Black Lake. There is something I must do before we confront the evil ones again.”

Don’t Want to See

Barakah stood and exited the tent. The others shrugged and followed. A silent procession of trolls and hobgoblins came behind them. Soon they reached the shore of the Black Lake. It’s clear waters were perfectly calm. No ripples or waves passed across the surface, despite the slight breeze in the air. The sparse vegetation of the valley stopped a few yards from the lake’s edge.

Barakah began a solemn intonation, “I am King Barakah Al-Sakhr, Son of King Murkrah the Queen-Slayer, First Amongst Equals, Champion of the Billowing Sword, High Priest of Ruh-tor-ka the Destroyer, Guardian of the Well of the World, and Last of the Sand Giants. The acid breath of Ammutseba is in me and it calls out to its kindred. A shadow looms over the land, so a greater shadow must be called on. I call to you Ammutseba. Come forth!”
The water began to bubble. Waves played across the surface.

Barakah took two giant steps toward Danar and asked for the man’s portable hole. Danar offered it. From within Barakah pulled one of the dragovinians the group had been experimenting on. Barakah removed the stake from the dragovinian’s heart and the creature began to move and scream in pain. Barakah turned back to the water.

“I call to you Ammutseba! Come forth!”

The wind began to blow and clouds gathered in the darkening sky. Barakah’s tentacles extruded from beneath his cloak to grip the dragovinian. The tentacles pulsed and tightened around their captive. They wrapped around the dragovinian’s torso and legs before slowly began to pull further and further apart.

“Please! No! No! NO NO!” The dragovinian screamed as he was ripped in two. Barakah threw the two halves into the shallow water.
“I call to you Ammutseba! Come forth!”
The dragovinian flailed in the water as the waves lapped at his separated body. His torso could still move. He tried to drag himself towards his legs, but the waves had taken them further out into the lake. He began to swim with pitiful strokes. “No. No. No.”
“I call to you Ammutseba! COME FORTH!”

The water roiled and bubbled. A great shape emerged at the center of the lake. Rubbery and massive it began moving towards the whimpering dragovinian.

“I CALL TO YOU AMMUTSEBA! COME FORTH!”

Hektor interrupted, “Enough of this.” He stepped forward and enacted one of his more powerful spells, maze. Barakah disappeared into a pocket dimension where he would have to puzzle his way out.

The massive shape drew closer. The wind howled and the waves pounded on the shore. The party could still barely make out the soft crying of the dragovinian as he looked for his legs.

Hektor shouted, “Zelus! We have to work together! Force that creature back beneath the water! Use our strongest magic together!”

Zelus nodded and the two of them combined their magic. The clouds parted and the sun pierced the gloom. The shape in the water began to slow its movement forward and it slowly sunk beneath the waves. The wind and water calmed. The shape descended further and the dragovinian’s cries could be heard a little easier. “No. No. No.”

A long, thick, black tentacle extended from the shape and wrapped around both halves of the dragovinian.

“NO! HELP ME! PLEASE! I CAN SEE! I DON’T WANT TO SEE!”

The dragovinian was dragged beneath the waves. The waves stopped. The water became flat. The wind was gone. The sky was clear. All was as before.

Barakah returned from the magical prison Hektor had placed him in. “Ammutseba?” Barakah turned, taking the situation in. Then he spoke to Hektor, “Why did you stop the ritual? Ammutseba’s power would’ve been useful to us!”
“That thing? We could all sense the evil rolling of it. Something like that can’t be controlled or used. Only… pointed.”
“So you say, but I have the power of Ammutseba in me now. The beast at the Well of the Worlds gives me power beyond imagining. If I had another piece of Ammutseba’s power such as resides in that beast…” Barakah swept his large hand toward the water. “We would be unstoppable! No dragovinian or dragon god could stand in our way.”
“And then when the dragovinians were all gone? What then? What would this beast do inside of you? How long could you maintain control? Power at such a cost is not useful. It is enslavement, of our cause to that creature and its dark purpose.”
“Will you not see reason, friend Hektor? I control Ammutseba now! I can still do so with this other piece.”
“I’ve seen you fight, Barakah. You’re barely in control as it is. You will lose control at some point and the consequences will be disastrous. Only more so with another piece of power. I will not permit it. Do not attempt to summon that beast again. I would not wish to spoil our friendship.”
The argument continued, but no agreement could be reached. Eventually Barakah frowned, looked down, and stopped speaking.

Athena, Sage Virgin

Ever focused on action, the group went with Zelus to Mount Olympus. Torin came along with the others. They hoped to petition Athena for aid in securing the alliance of the Hecatonchires. Zelus led them from his small temple up to the large, golden temple of Athena’s near the summit of Olympus. Zelus entered the temple and the others followed. Inside was a pristine marble chamber sparsely decorated with olive branches. A few tapestries hung from Ionian columns, but otherwise the room was bare and furnitureless.

“Athena! It is I, Zelus! I come to ask you a favor.”

The radiant goddess emerged from the inner sanctum of the temple clad in a white toga with gold trim. Golden bracelets adorned her bare, tanned arms and a golden collar of leaves rested upon her shoulders. She wore a protective golden breastplate and a golden helm sat atop her perfectly symmetrical face. All were struck by the beauty of the virgin goddess. The mortals in the group bowed in her presence.

“Zelus, how good to see you. I have been keeping up with your exploits. You have been doing well against Blendegad and his minions.”
“Thank you. It is kind of you to say that. I will be brief and get to the point of why I have come. My mortal companions have learned of a way to bring Zeus back. All is ready, but we require the return of one hero who once fought the dragons in the Age of Monsters. I am speaking of Gorwinua the orkish bard.”
“Ah yes. She was set as a guardian upon the White Orb, much like Danar was set to guard the Red Orb?”
“Yes, my lady,” said Danar with downcast eyes.
“Then why do you require my help?” asked Athena. “Surely, retrieving and breaking this Orb should be a simple enough task. After all, you have done so before for the Red Orb.”
“Alas, it is not so simple,” said Zelus. “The White Orb has been taken by the dragovinians to the Museum of Power in their capital. The protections around the museum are such that we cannot take the Orb and escape with our lives. However, we know that there are ones more powerful than us. The ones who made the Museum. The Hecatonchires.”
“Yes… I see. They would likely act to free Zeus, even if that broke the supposed neutrality that surrounds the Museum of Power.”
“Would you ask them to help us tear down the Museum and get the White Orb of Dragonkind?”
“I would, but it would be better if the request did not come from me. Hold on for just a minute.” Athena retreated to the inner sanctum of her temple once more. She returned in a few moments holding an envelope sealed with golden wax. “Take this to the temple of Hephaestus and give it to him. He will convince the Hecatonchires to aid you.” She handed the letter to Torin, her favored priest.
“Thank you, Athena. We are in your debt,” said Torin
“It is nothing you need repay.”

Hephaestus, Tunnel Master

Zelus and his mortal entourage exited the temple of Athena and journeyed down Olympus a little ways to the temple of Hephaestus. The interior of the temple seemed to be the workshop of some kind of mad scientist. Tables, benches, pegboards, and sawhorses were everywhere. Papers, tools, glass vials, metal scraps, sawdust, and pieces of discarded wood littered every flat surface. There were pathways cleared through the debris for walking. Zelus and the others entered the chamber.

“Hephaestus! Zelus has come calling on you with a message.”

Hephaestus limped out of the inner sanctum wearing a facemask, a blacksmith’s apron, and nothing else. The smith god flipped the facemask up. His ugly face was covered in soot. Greasy black hair fell down around his unibrow and mashed ears. Something smelled like rotten eggs and ammonia.

“Yeah? What is it?”
Torin bowed and brought the letter forward. “It’s from Athena,” the dwarf said.
Hephaestus took the letter, opened it, and read it in silence. His eyes widened and he took in a breath. “We must leave as soon as possible! I will get outfitted. Wait here!” Hephaestus limped away into the back rooms.
“That was easier than I thought it would be,” said Danar.

A few minutes later Hephaestus emerged wearing an odd sort of armor constructed of bronze bubbles. Each of his limbs and joints were covered by a bubble. Over his head was a transparent bubble. Hephaestus spoke in a voice that sounded like chalk, “I will take the dwarf with me down into Tartarus to meet with the Hecatonchires. We will go quickly, it will only be a few hours before we will emerge in Nox. Our arrival should be obvious. Be ready to strike when we emerge.”
“Yes, Hephaestus,” said the gathered Exiles.
“Then let’s do this. Here, dwarf, hold this rod,” Hephaestus grabbed an iron rod with bronze loops around it and handed it to Torin. “Don’t drop it.” Hephaestus took a pick with a concave curve to its head from another table. “You’d all better be there when we come out.” The smith god set the pick to the ground and began to spin it. Hephaestus and Torin rapidly descended through the temple’s floor into the earth. Soon they were out of sight. Those who looked away from the hole and then back saw that it was no longer there.
“I guess we’d better get prepared for our raid on the Museum,” Hektor said. “It’s happening sooner than we thought.” The group returned to the mortal world and split up to prepare for their attack on the Museum of Power.