The Blue Prince: Mid-series catch-up (Episode: 2)

Leaving his erstwhile teammates: Indigo and Orestes behind to explore the woods, Dokan and the diminutive Zavia rode on towards Khajag.

Khajag, as far as they knew was just a mining town. A profitable, diamond mining town but just that. Recently though, it has been bequeathed by the tyrant Thereanthor to one of her four children: Narciss.

As they journeyed on, a leather clad, Halfling called out to them from behind. He seemed cocky but not threatening. 

After he’d managed to catch up, the Halfling introduced himself as ‘Charlie Stilton’ and invited himself along for the journey. He was originally from Fewham and had followed after the adventurers as he’d lost confidence in the protection the ‘captive’ dragon: Sybille had giving the town.

They arrived at the outskirts of Khajag about a day-and-a-half later. Just farming outposts but, weirdly, worked by human slaves overseen by kobolds.

Some of the kobolds, the bigger ones, rode upon strange dog-like mounts.

The kobolds gathered in number before approaching Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton. They overtly threatened and insulted the gnomess Zavia but she refused to let herself be provoked and eventually the three adventures were shown to the town’s outer ‘wall’.

A gatehouse, complete with an iron portcullis stood astride the main road into the town. It was stone-built, ornate and impressive. What was most odd about it though, was that there were no walls on either side. Rather a shimmering field of blue light.
Tall stone towers interrupted the sheets of crackling energy at regular, mile wide intervals. Each one manned by a Black cloak and a couple of blue Dragon-borns.

After a brief conversation with the Black cloak atop the main gatehouse, Dokan, Zavia and Stilton were allowed through the gate to meet with Narciss himself.

As they walked toward the newly built palace, Charlie Stilton and the others noticed how poorly treated the humans were. Everything in the burgeoning town of Khajag had been built on the whipped backs of the human slaves.

The central palace was huge in relation to the town itself. Grand but overblown. It was made mostly of white marble but had domes and decorations of vivid blue.

After dealing with a few underlings, the adventurers were surprised to be shown directly into the blue prince’s throne room§. Here they found the young dragon talking lazily to one of his mother’s Black cloaks. The room itself was colossal and, at its zenith, the domed roof reached over 50’ high!

Despite this, the dome was supported by highly decorated ribs at the circumference of the room rather than interrupting columns. Each rib denoted one of the many races of Fissa, their intertwined bodies and faces in expressions of painful subjugation. At the very top of the dome, where the ribs met, was a huge, decorative, stone boss. A boss that showed Narciss breathing lightning at the hairless monkey races.

After making them wait for a few minutes, the young dragon uncurled himself from his specially made throne and summoned the three adventures forward.

Although still young, he was already the size of a large horse but when he spoke, his voice was like a rasping whisper. Like wind over gravel.

The young Dragon told them that he’d ‘ordered them here to help stamp out a large and illegal gathering of orcs. Possibly in their thousands’.

He explained that ‘He could get help from his mother, the tyrant queen, but her troops would take weeks to arrive and he’d elected not to wait’.

He also explained his frustration with his scryers. ‘For some reason, despite numerous reports of orc sightings, they cannot locate them’.

Narciss ordered the three adventurers to ‘Go out to Fasel wood. Find the orcs and kill as many of them as possible’.

It was only then that a wretched looking human clerk shuffles forward and presents Dokan with a scroll with a reward list on it…

Ten gold pieces worth of diamonds per confirmed normal orc grunt killed but larger amounts for ten particular orcs, who are known troublemakers.

Five thousand gold pieces worth of diamonds for known troublemakers: Morten, Ragnar, Knut. Aurelius, Unger, Harang, Stig and Viggo.

Ten thousand gold pieces worth of diamonds for Bodan and Auzoux. Two especially dangerous orcs. Orcs who are inspiring their kin toward open rebellion.

After they were dismissed by the young dragon prince, Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton had a quick look around on their way out of the town/city.

The main entrance to the main diamond mine was located at the far edge of the town but still within the confines of the blue energy shield. It was unsurprisingly well guarded, as were several other building.

The trio of adventurers also saw the humans being openly mistreated by the kobold overseers. Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton did nothing to prevent this though as it would have caused direct conflict with the Dragon-borns and Black-cloaks.

As they were escorted back to the main gate, Charlie Stilton, on viewing the shimmering blue energy field, asked one of the nearby kobolds what the shields did. Happy to explain, four of the kobolds dragged over a human slave and threw him through the barrier.

The translucent blue field didn’t prevent him passing through it but his electrified body was quite dead when it fell on the other side.

From one of the nearby doorways, a woman wailed in despair. Her husband had been killed just as a cruel example.

Slightly disturbed but unwilling to kill the culprits, Dokan, Charlie Stilton and Zavia headed out and away from Khajag.

They made camp that night at the edge of the forest. In the morning, they headed in.

It was late that afternoon when the Halfling cleverly noticed a pit trap. Not that wide but spiked at the bottom and deep enough to prevent easy escape.

The diminutive Charlie Stilton and Zavia found themselves somewhere to hide while the well-armoured Dokan triggered the clanking bell alarm.

After a few minutes a huge black scaled dragon-born arrived. He was wary due to the ongoing bell and flanked by two humans. A well-armoured warrior and a mysterious looking sorceress.

These three were the survivors of the mercenary group Dokan had fought on-route to ‘saving’ Lady Sybille from the Black cloak tower near Fewham.

They had proved themselves tough and now it looked as if Dokan was facing them alone. Mallyx, the dragon-born signaled his human teammate forward but he was surprised by a sneak attack from the well-concealed Charlie Stilton.

Realising it was a trap, the black dragon born and the sorceress rushed to help. The battle was closely fought and Dokan looked in trouble until the little Gnomess, illusionist: Zavia managed to fool the Dragon-born into stepping onto his own pit trap.

Down he fell, soon followed by his underlings.

Zavia sealed the pit with an illusionary but unassailable metal lid, effectively trapping the three mercenaries. It was a simple matter then, for the rogue and the paladin to finish them off with crossbow bolts and daggers.

After a brief rest, the three adventurers stripped the mercenaries of all their valuable equipment and searched to area. They found dozens of pit traps and, eventually, Mallyx’s camp. Tents, a prepared but unlit fire and a wagon containing a hundred and sixty eight severed orc heads. The bodies were to be found dumped down a natural, open pit.

Despite the distasteful nature of the campsite, the three adventurers decided to stay there overnight and to look for Orestes and Indigo in the morning.

The Blue Prince: Mid-series catch-up (Episode: 1)

Finding themselves hustled out of the Inn they were staying at in Fewham by the landlord: Proper John (Vogir and Rudha-an had apparently already left.), Orestes, Dokan and Indigo made their way to Lord Rician’s manor house and demanded entry.

The visibly present town guards shadowed them but didn’t approach.

A small Gnomess: Zavia also joined the party as she was being hustled out of town as well. In fact all the adventures and mercenaries recently invited into Fewham to help save the Lady Sybille from the Black cloaks, were being ‘asked’ to move on.

After the aged servant’s initial refusal, Dokan and Indigo were begrudgingly allowed in to ‘discuss’ their complaints.

Lord Rician was rude and dismissive and, after asking the two adventurers to leave, called his guards. Despite Indigo’s pleas for calm, Dokan drew his sword and attacked Lord Rician. Although no match for Dokan, Lord Rician was able to defend himself for the few moments it took for two of his guards to arrive.

Indigo then decided to nip matters in the bud and, in a blinding whirl of action, killed both the guards and the aged clerk.

Indigo’s brutal flurry had the desired effect though, and Lord Rician immediately surrendered. He paid Dokan double what he’d originally offered the party to save his ‘daughter’.

Leaving the next day, in their own sweet time, the gnomess Zavia decided to join them, although they hadn’t the faintest idea what to do or where to go.

During the journey to the next major crossroads, Dokan spied a raven apparently following them.

He shot it with his crossbow and, confirming his suspicions, it disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

Making camp at nightfall, Zavia noticed smoke in the distance. Climbing up a tree, she realized that it was another camp nearby.

The stealthy monk: Indigo went to investigate while the other three of them prepared to defend their camp. Zavia proved herself adept with useful illusions.

Indigo noticed a group of orcs creep past him but carried on to their camp. Once there he discovered two young orcs on guard. He stepped out, unarmed and offering peace but, unprovoked, the two orcs still attacked. It was only due to his generosity that they lived beyond that moment.

The other group of orcs moved through the trees to the Party’s camp. There, after a short, shouted conversation, they discovered Orestes was one of them. An orc.

After a brief negotiation, the orcs offered to share some of their food in exchange for the mutual defence of a shared camp.

In the morning, the leader of the young orcs took out a piece of parchment, tore it and passed half of it to Orestes. Magically both halves repaired themselves and Orestes was able to read the entire message. It was in Orcish but the phrasing was odd, wrong. It was far too slick. Too savvy.

Despite being asked not to, Orestes showed it to his teammates…

CALLING ALL ORCS!

Are you sick of living in fear?

Fear of the Dragon?

Fear of the armies of Man?

The time is upon us brother.

The time to reunite the sundered tribes.

The time to reforge the great hordes of our forefathers.

Come find us in the heart of Fasel wood.

Help us reclaim what is ours.

In the name of Gruumsh, help reclaim what should be yours!

Do not share this information with men, elves or dwarves.

Do not confide with any that would see us oppressed.

The band of youthful orcs left in the direction of a nearby wood and the party continued on to the crossroads.

On the way Dokan noticed the raven again. ‘Was it the same one’ he wondered and he shot it with a crossbow bolt, just to be sure.

Again it disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

Arriving at the crossroads about a day later, they found a large wooden signpost. Its arms pointing in five different directions.

1) Fewham: Back the way they came.

2) Winterhaven: Back towards where a lot of them had originally started.

3) Stonefang: The land of the dwarves.

4) Gon Dulat: The largest city within weeks of traveling and….

5) Khajag: Apparently a recent but wealthy settlement.

It's here the raven reappeared in the treetops and it swooped down to perch atop the crossroads sign.

Although raising his crossbow again, Dokan didn’t fire and the nervous looking raven finally spoke…

‘Ad-veenturoors! Youu Arr all CAW-dialy enviited to tha proviince of Khajag to aiid tha Blue prince with a triiviial but preesing mat-ter. Thaare’s gold to be made. Aaaaand plenttee of it!’

With two possibilities and unsure what to do, the Party made camp.

The best laid planes of hamsters and gnomes

Date: One year ago (approximately).

Location: Mount Sneafang.

Gerromy read the report with alarm.

‘Thereanthor’s moved one of her children into Khajag?!’

Although young, Gerromy had defeated the arrogant interloper Lucas in the battle for leadership. The young gnomes simply hadn’t trusted the psionic, older gnome and, although still an advisor, he was viewed with suspicion.

‘This is a disaster! The magical messages have been sent out and we’ve no way to recall them.’

Standing up and starting to pace, Gerromy tries to think while his inner circle of advisors look shell-shocked.

‘It’s too late to do anything about it now. It’s just one of several sites and we’ll just have to hope that our protective magics will keep them safe until they can move out’.

The blue prince

It was an unheard of plan for a dragon. Dragons were an independent species that considered their children to be self-reliant as soon as they reached young adulthood.

To set them up within your own territory and to encourage them to build themselves a stronghold?

This was something new.

Thereanthor was aware that one day these children would be forced by their very nature to battle each other and eventually even her for supremacy.

Still, by then she’d probably have reached her twilight years.

Ultimately though, Fissa was hers and after all her struggles, even after her death, Thereanthor was determined to keep it in the family.

Her ‘lost’ daughter Sybille was safe in Fewham. A princess waited upon hand and foot. Thereanthor had recently even managed to send a message to her despite the wards and protection spells placed over her.

It was time they reconnected; especially now that she was letting her other children spread their wings.

Her other daughter, Uwibami was sent far north.

Her largest son, Yddraig to the south.

And Narsiss, her handsome but conceited son, was sent to Khajag.

Khajag is a diamond-mining town. Profitable but unfortunately close to his cosseted, human raised sister. 

The remaining royals

The guard was doubled for Thereanthor’s remaining wyrmlings. There had been two females and two males, now only the males and one of the females remained.

They were kept safe and pampered for over a decade before their mother was ready for them to face the world.

In that time though, Thereanthor had discovered the location of her missing progeny. The Black cloak nurse had stolen her charge and carried it back to her home town of Fewham. Once there, she had used her sorcerous powers to transform the infant dragon into a human child. A child that the young Lord Rician passed off as his own.

The initial demand for her return had resulted in Lord Rician’s polite but undisguised threat. The young dragon would be killed if any attempt to rescue her were made.

It was a bold gambit but a foolish one.

Despite the young dragon being removed while still so young, it had already inherited centuries of knowledge.

It knew what it was.

It knew who it was.

It knew how to best protect itself.

Thereanthor considered her options.

Her daughter ‘Sybille’ would have to fend for herself. She’d be treated like royalty and be safe enough as, despite their threat, the people of Fewham would have to protect their 'bargaining chip' or suffer total annihilation from her armies without her daughter to hide behind.

Thereanthor could wait a few decades before retrieving her ‘lost’ daughter.

Her remaining three wyrmlings were also spoiled and indulged over the next twenty years.

It is when they begin to squabble more fiercely that Thereanthor decided to give them more freedom.

Her stolen daughter ‘Sybille’ has become heir apparent in Fewham. A princess much loved by her ignorant people. Even Lord Rician has been duped into believing that his ‘captive’ dragon loved him like a father.

Using this as a model, Thereanthor allocates three towns within her kingdom to her remaining offspring.

They are still young, but better to let them rule a small area of their own then to battle and possibly damage each other.

Impossible theft

Her male consort is given lands in the western regions of her empire and dismissed until such time as the blue empress need him again. Thereanthor then retreats deep into her cavernous stronghold to protect her hatchlings.

She leaves the day to day running of her empire in the sycophantic hands of her head Black cloaks, while she nurtures her four tiny progeny.

The massive dragon though, still relies on a special cadre of nursing Black cloaks.

Four female sorcerers to look after the needs of the wyrmlings.

After a few months, Thereanthor returns to her throne. She visits the nursery daily but leaves the four tiny dragons care to the four sorceress nurses.

Then one day, despite all of her guards and protection, one of the infant dragons disappears, along with her nurse.

Theranthor was distraught. Many of the Black cloaks and dragon-borns were killed in her fury but the missing wyrmling was not to be found.

Not until several years later.

Dragon immortality

After years of expansion, war and entrenchment, Thereanthor felt secure.

Secure enough to consider her future.

It had been seventy years after her first entry into this world. Despite her victory over the undying Pit fiend, she was pushing ‘ancient’ already and had to accept that she would not live forever.

Children were to be her immortality.

Seeking out a suitable mate, she found one in the nearest continent to hers. He was inferior to her but acceptable.

Her first clutch, just over thirty years ago contained four eggs.

Precious, blue sheened, dragon eggs.

Red hate

Dragged straight back to hell by the clawed hands of scores of lesser devils, Zartak found himself securely back in his former prison.

It’s large and he has servants of course. Grandeur to suit his station but he is not allowed to leave.

A cage, no matter how gilded, is still a cage.

Silently he broods.

Silently he plots.

He shall have his revenge in the blue dragon.

He shall see her fall. 

Blue triumphant

No one was surprised when the war came.

What was surprising though, was the outcome.

The devil was more powerful and his army was larger in size.

Unfortunately his troops were neither as well trained or as loyal as he was used to, as a prince of hell.

His human armies deserted at the first opportunity.

Zartak was forced further and further back into the northern territories until he was finally cornered.

Thereanthor had come personally to lead her dragon-borns and Black cloaks.
Thousands of Dragon-borns had been unwittingly pulled back through to Fissa at the time of the portal rend.

They were loyal to her and grateful as she protected them from harm even as they threw themselves blindly forward.
Thereanthor had a secret weapon though.
A group of troops that she'd kept secret until that moment.
Tieflings.
Thousands of them.
Zartak had been unaware of his own contribution to his own destruction.
When he breached his section of the planar barrier, years before, the tormented legions of half human, half devils had been released into this world.
Despite their heritage, they hated all pure-blood devils.
A hatred they directed at Zartak.

Tens of thousands died in that last battle but it was the dragon herself who ended it.

Her jaws closed around the giant devil’s throat.

Her entire weight upon his.

Zartak wasn’t killed though.

You can’t kill an immortal.

His massive body crumbled into chalk-like pieces and his essence was pulled back to the pits of his fiery prison.

As his body coalesced, his screams of vengeance shook the gates of hell. 

Purple allegiance

After the resistance had been utterly destroyed, the Dragon and the Devil carved up the massive continent of Fissa between them.

Thereanthor took the southeast and Zartak, the northwest.

It was an acceptable agreement and suited both the devil and the dragon…

Initially.

Soon though, Zartak felt the need to expand his empire. He built up an army of slaves to equal that of his erstwhile partner.

Theranthor, being no fool, built up her defences in reaction to the devil’s growing forces.

War was inevitable.

Red assistance

Intelligent enough to understand the price to be paid, Thereanthor accepts the ‘assistance’ of the red skinned, devil Zartak.

After a month of organization the Black cloaks try again to breach the barrier from their side.

This time though, forces on Fissa work against them.

Armies of orcs led by mysterious leaders attack the mountain stronghold.

The shadowy Grey elves of the surrounding forests, harry them constantly.

The Black cloaks were forced to hire mercenaries to protect them. Tough but naïve adventurers.

These adventurers kept the Black cloaks safe and slaughtered hundreds of the strangely well-organised orc legions.

Still they came though.

There were thousands of them, supported by the arrows of the Grey elves and the aerial support of well-trained, giant eagles.

The magical barriers were about to fail but still the hired mercenaries held their ground.

The ceremony was ready.

A split in the fabric of reality appeared and widened.

Thereanthor sensing the rift, poured her primordial power into it. Pushing it further. Stretching it ever wider.

She could see her way through but the window was still too fragile. Still too small.

With a psychic message to Zartak, the once-prince of the underworld exploits the damage already done and struck at the barrier between worlds with his diabolic energy.

Under this triple assault, the barrier cracked.

Both Dragon and Devil seized their opportunity and slipped through the gap between worlds. 

Fiends in low places

Although unable to see anything from his prison, Zartak: the once prince of Hell, feels the assault against the planes in his immortal bones.

Something is trying to free itself from somewhere.

Something with power.

A dragon.

A dragon with the power to rock the barrier between planes.

…

But not enough to break through.

The devil smiles.

Whoever it was has failed.

It needs more power than it commands.

Zartak smells desperation.

Zartak smells opportunity.

Summoning an imp, the massive devil composes a message to his soon to be ally.

The dragon shall be free but at a price.

The price of his own liberation.

Blue impediment

Nearly two centuries ago, after hundreds of years of research, Theranthor discovered a way to reopen one of the portals back to this world.

It was dangerous and would involve tremendous amounts of primordial energy but it was possible.

After decades of work, she was able to prise open a crack between worlds. Wide enough to send telepathic messages through to those who were both sensitive enough and had dragon blood coursing through their veins.

Slowly she recruited an army. Secretly at first but slowly more overt.

Sorcerers all and zealots to her cause.

It took time but time was something Thereanthor had plenty of.

Slightly over a century later, she was ready.

Ready to rule again after a millennia of surviving in this barren wasteland.

Ready to rule over the squirming masses of small and inferior creatures.

After preparing her minions, Thereanthor ordered them to begin the ritual needed to enable her return.

The skies ripped.

The ground shock.

The portal shimmered and, for the first time in their devoted service, the Black cloaks gazed upon the terrifying face of their mistress.

Then the portal collapsed.

Enraged, Thereanthor threw herself at the stoney ground and screamed at the heavens above.

Time of the dragons

Once upon a time, dragons ruled this land. Blue, Red, Silver and gold. Dragons of every colour crowded the skies.

They waged constant war on each other; vying for superiority with no regard to the ‘lesser’ races they shared the world with.

As the battles became fiercer and the conscripted armies became larger, the casualties became worse and worse.

Eventually the greatest wizards and priests of their age, banded together. At the cost of tens of thousands of lives, hundreds of portals were created that sucked the vast majority of the dragons, both good and evil, through them and into a different plane.

The portals were sealed and the few dragons who’d managed to cling on, emerged to find a world no longer quaking under their taloned feet.

Unforeseen by the great wizards and priest though, was the loss of the Dragon-borns. Hundreds of thousands of them were pulled into the plane of dragons.

Not a single one was left behind.

Back to the begining

With Redford and the remains of his family far behind him, Vogir eventually found his way to the faraway district of Highmarsh.
Still within the realm of the evil Blue Dragon, but only just.
The people here were the ones driven by a fierce need for independence and a thirst for freedom.
It’s a mostly Human frontier town, but the occasional Dwarf, Halfling or Elf aren’t that uncommon.
Vogir quickly found his place within the town. He was quick with a sword and had the strange confidence of someone who knew he had an ace up his sleeve.
Strong-arming and smuggling seemed natural to him.
Baron Redcloak was the minor noble in ‘charge’ of keeping order and collecting the taxes.
Typical of his type, he is money hungry, power hungry and without a shred of compassion for the people he’s meant to represent.
Still he isn’t as corrupt as some and he manages to keep the agents of the Blue dragon away from them.
Vogir had been there over a year before his reclusive life was so rudely interrupted by an Eladrin tourist and an over protective Dragonborn.
Other adventurers soon joined them and after successfully saving the children of the town, Vogir’s life took a turn toward danger and perhaps revenge…

Tool of the Devil

Curiosity overcoming his fear and weariness, Vogir approaches the demonic figure.
“What do you mean?”
The tall Tiefling smiles broadly as he opens up his arms.
“I’m here to offer you power. Power to destroy the loathsome Dragon.”
Vogir is young but not stupid.
“In return for what exactly?”
The demonic creature’s features crumple in mock misery.
“Why for your soul of course.”
Vogir turns away.
“Wait!” shouts the demon. “My master has seen your potential. He has been watching your family for over a century. Rather than the 'standard' pact, he is willing to grant you a small amount of his power simply in exchange for your vow to kill the Dragon. The closer you get to your goal the more powers he will give you.”
Vogir turns back.
“So what you’re saying is that ‘if’ I continue on the path I’ve set myself, your demonic master will gift me an increasing level of his hellish power?”
The tall Tiefling seems to sag.
“I know; I can hardly believe it myself. Still the powers granted will be substantially less than the normal Warlock would be given.”
Vogir smiles a thin humourless smile.
“I accept.”
The Tiefling looks confused.
“Don’t you even want to know my master’s name?”
Vogir’s smile evaporates.
“Don’t worry. I think I can guess.”

Deal with the Devil

Gripping his arm tightly to prevent more of his precious blood leaking out, Vogir makes a not so silent vow.
“Redford has fallen and my people scattered. I shall have my revenge on the accursed Dragon and all his inhuman minions!”
It is then that the young Vogir feels a presence watching him.
Spinning around he spies a cloaked and hooded figure.
Trying to keep the quaver from his voice, Vogir shouts out to the stranger, “What do you want?”
He’s surprised by the stranger’s response however.
“Funny, that’s what I was going to say.”
Dropping his hood and smiling, the tall stranger reveals his blood red skin and demonic horns…