# Dread Ilk - A Predatory Society



## papa_laz (Feb 22, 2009)

*An Introduction to the Ilk*

Dread Ilk is a world that resembles the classical hell. Jagged outcrops of rock dot a landscape of red sand and lava rivers. The sky is black, save for a hazy red moon which bathes the landscape in an unnatural luminance. Long ago the Ilk was colonised as a prison world by an ancient race of interplanar travellers. It was here that dangerous criminals and prisoners of war from conquered worlds were sent. However, as the empire began to crumble the colony was abandoned and the prisoners were left to fend for themselves on a seemingly inhospitable world. But through sheer tenacity, a debauched yet prosperous society rose from the scorched wasteland.

The government, if it can be called that, consists of a despotic consul of provincial lords who bicker almost ceaselessly over land and title. The consul is presided over by a nameless figure who is said to be the one true ruler of the Ilk, however next to nothing of this 'overlord' is known to the common folk. While racial divides do exist, the ethnic diversity of the Ilks inhabitants is less of a cause for problem than would be expected. As prisoners, the ancestors of the current generation were all considered equally worthless, and this equality has been passed down over the centuries. 

Being that the entirety of its population are the descendants of criminals, the Ilk is a place of cruelty and violence. Laws are few, power is god, and the belief that the strong may do as they please has created a society in which every day is a constant struggle for survival.

*Characters*

*Lucia Teronis – Firenewt Ranger 5*
Lucia served 4 years in the Imperial Army, first as a messenger, later as a military spy.  Her last year was spent chasing down the rebellious Minotaur Tortoise Clan, of the Sharan Desert, whose chief had long resisted Imperial claims to suzerainty.  Her involvement in such a singularly unprofitable affair, when plunder-rich wars are common in the Ilk, is something of a mystery.  When asked about it she answers that it was the naiveté of youth, but may indeed have had her own reasons for fighting the Minotaurs. Since the end of the  second war of ascendency she has persued a singularly mercenary career, including a brief stint in the Minari Strife. Her animal companion is an owl named Carlo.

*The Bagman -  Uthuk Y'llan Cleric 4*
The Bagman, or “Bag” to his friends, earned this moniker thanks to his gruesome habit of shrinking the heads of his victims, and carrying them with him in a hessian sack. He speaks little of his origins, or how he has ended up as a sword for hire, but his chequered history as a bureaucrat working within the cut-throat hierarchy of the Hydrass clans administration is well known. He is an archetypal free agent, both in his work, and his attitude towards life. Ultimately, he does as he sees fit.

*Dalgrieve -  Firenewt Druid 5*
The more politically astute of the Ilk's scholars would describe Dalgrieve as an anarcho-primitivist, but he has little use for such labels. In his early years struggling to survive in the slums of Talas-Ka he sought to escape from the nightmares of daily life through psychadelic experimentation. His frequent journeys into the depths of his own psyche instilled in him an overwhelming desire to free himself from the shackles of autocratic society. He wishes to level the great towers that dominate the landscape of the Ilk, to deconstruct civilisation and leave nothing but overgrown ruins. His animal companion is a velociraptor known as Killface.

Of late this party has been operating out of the city of Talas-Ka, located in the eastern province of Dread Ilk. They are currently employed by the infamous mercenary guild known as 'The Core,' and over the last few months have earned themselves quite a reputation by committing acts of extreme violence. 

*Chapter 1 – The Binger's Reprieve*

Lucia, Dalgrieve and the Bagman sit around a small wooden table in a noisy tavern, drinking quietly. Carlo the owl is perched upon Lucia's shoulder, its large eyes taking in every minute detail. A heavy set velociraptor lies sprawled on the floor beneath the table, snoring softly. 

Dalgrieve leans back in his chair, yawns, then rubs his blood shot eyes. “You realise we're out of money” he hisses in a sinister reptilian tone. “Yes I know” says the Bagman bluntly, “I am aware of this.” “Well?” says Dalgrieve with annoyance, “what are we going to do about it?” The Bagman shrugs melodramatically. “We'll do what we always do” says Lucia, licking her lips with a forked tongue. Then, as if on que, a small imp messenger flaps its way through the open door of the tavern and heads towards the lethargic mercenaries. It is Magra, one of the many spies employed by the Core. "Gunther wants to see you, he has work.” says the imp. “He says you grow fat and lazy on the spoils of war.” The small creature flaps its wings and perches cheekily on Bagman's left shoulder, causing the Uthuk cleric to scowl in annoyance. “He says if you spent as much time working as you did drinking you would all be rich as princes." Both Lucia and Delgrieve roll their eyes. The Bagman is too hungover to care. Taking note of their obvious lack of excitement, the cheeky little creature flits off in to the night.

“I suppose this means we have to get up.” says the Bagman. Lucia has already stood up, grabbed her short bow and quiver, and begun to head for the door. With the ranger already halfway out of the tavern, Dalgrieve whistles loudly to the sleeping raptor. Startled, the beast leaps to attention and crashes head first into the table, sending glassware flying. The Bagman begins to saunter towards the door, casting a menacing gaze over the drunken patrons. Those who's eyes meet his look down fearfully, but one group of upstarts stares back defiantly, almost mockingly. He's seen them around before. Small time thugs who've grown too big for their boots. 

As Dalgrieve and the Bagman approach the thugs, their leader, a brutish looking bugbear, continues to stare with mocking contempt. Beside him sit a Quaggoth Thug and an Uthuk barbarian. Their gaunt faces and glazed eyes mark them as smokers of L'tala root, the deadly psychotropic stimulant that has begun to gain popularity in the slums of Talas-Ka.

"You know, we own the streets around these parts,” the Bugbear sneers, “you'd be wise to walk yourself out those doors without looking back." Before the drunken mercenaries can even reply a small bookies window has opened up in the corner of the bar, and money is already changing hands as patrons eagerly place bets on the outcome of your little discussion. “Is that so?” says the Bagman with palpable indifference. Lucia has now realised trouble is brewing, and scurries back into the tavern, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Unimpressed with the bugbears threats, the Bagman strolls casually towards the thugs and slams his armoured fist onto their table. He stares defiantly at the bugbear. “And you'd be wise to finish your swill.” The bugbear grins, then stands, his eyes perfectly level with Uthuk cleric's.

Seeing that the situation is rapidly deteriorating, Lucia notches an arrow on to her bow string with tremendous speed, fires at the quaggoth thug, then repeats the action with machine like precision.  It roars with pain as the arrows penetrate deep into its chest, and blood begins to leak from its wounds, painting its white fur red. 

Wasting no time, Dalgrieve shouts an order in draconic, and immediately the raptor sprints from the rear of the bar and launches itself through the air towards the bugbear, its claws outstretched and its mouth gaping. It slashes both claws through the leather armour on the thugs torso, then clamps its jaws around the its victims neck, rending the flesh, before leaping back defensively. Enraged, the blood soaked bugbear swings its mace at the raptor's head but the wily creature evades the blow.

The two other thugs now leap into action; the uthuk barbarian swings its maul at the Bagman, who casually side steps the attack, then swings his scythe at his attackers torso, carving a gaping wound, and sending the uthuk crashing to the cold stone floor. The wounded quaggoth leaps onto the table, and throws  a hard punch at the raptors skull, but once again the reptile dodges with unnerving agility.

Another volley of arrows later, and the quaggoth is barely able to stand. The raptor however is in no mood to back down, and it leaps with a blood curdling shriek onto the hapless bugbear. Tearing both claws into its gut, then locking its teeth around the bugbears already savaged neck, it pushes off with both its powerful legs, pulls with its jaws, and rips the humanoids head clear from its shoulders. Blood fountains from the thugs neck, and its body collapses to the ground with a sickening thud. 

This is too much for the wounded quaggoth, who turns to leap off  the table and flee towards the door. But the raptor swipes with its claw tipping the thug off balance, and sending him crashing to the floor. He lies unconscious as the three mercenaries stand over him. Without saying a word the Bagman leans over the quaggoths prone form, and sliding a thin, dull blade beneath its neck, begins to hack off the creatures head. The crowd watches in silence. After half a minute the head is loose, and the Bagman holds it up for all to see. He grins, pleased with his handiwork, then places the head inside a crude hessian sack. As if to prove a point, Lucia swings her shortbow over her shoulder then grabs a goblet of wine from the table, necks it, then tosses the empty vessel to the ground.

Satisfied with the scene of destruction they have created, the mercenaries decide that it is probably best to leave the bar before any more trouble catches up with them, and stroll out casually through the rear exit.


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## Bercilac (Feb 22, 2009)

*Wahey!*

Keep in mind my character is "Lucia", as Lucien is a man's name.

May I add one note to this description that our excellent DM forgot.  Before exiting the bar, Lucia finished one of her slain opponent's drinks...

Good stuff, Laz.  Look forward to the rest of it, should you choose to write it.  Might post my own interpretation of events at some point, if I can be bothered, as it's always interesting to see how different players picture the scene differently (and the DM is, of course, also a player).


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## papa_laz (Feb 24, 2009)

Bercilac - Thanks for that, I've made corrections to the first chapter.

*Chapter 2 - An Urban Jaunt*

After exiting the bar the party members find themselves standing in the middle of  a cobble stone street. “Nice performance,” comes a voice from behind them. “Though the Red Paw are nothing but street scum.” The three mercenaries turn and see a scaly hunch backed figure leering at them. He is draped in a loose fitting black cloak and wheezes heavily. “You should try your hand against some real fighters. Come down to the Dead Heart sometime, ask for Jerynn. Tell him Kobal sent you. You could make some decent coin, get yourself out of those rags.” He winks at them mischievously before disappearing back into the bar.

“Sounds like a promising venture” says Dalgrieve, but the other two disagree. “I'd rather not waste my time working for that bum?” Lucia counters. “I say we go and see Gunther, we know he pays well, and we're guaranteed action.” The Bagman nods in silent agreement, and the three of them wander off in the direction of the Core's guild hall.

They meander through the winding roads and alleyways of Talas-Ka, taking in the sights and sounds of life in the Ilk. Carlo the owl takes to the skies to stretch his wings, while Dalgrieve leads the less than obedient velociraptor on a thick leather leash. A light sandstorm is coming in from the north, and fine particles of red dust blow through the city streets. Shortly they arrive at the impressive grey stone guild hall. Two ogre guards stand outside the large wooden door, and they nod in respect as the mercenaries enter the hall. After ascending several flights of stairs they find themselves in the office of Gunther, the large bald headed ogre who commands the Core.

"Well, if it isn't my three favourite troublemaker." He slurs at them, breath reeking of wine. "Run out of money already eh? Well Gunthers gonna help you out. As you may know, I have friends in high places in the legions. They come to me when they require something done that they cannot do. Something that requires subtlety and finesse. So god knows why I'm talking to you." he belches loudly and leans back in his chair, exposing his massive hairy ogre gut.

"Lately strange things have been happening at the southern border. The main highway to Kirov has been cut off from the province by lava flows, and many of our spies have been eliminated. Contact with the Bay slavers outpost, our one secure position in the southern realm, has been lost, and foul play is suspected. We'll send you down to the outpost on a boat to so you can assess the situation. Report any military placement immediately using this." Gunther hands you a small wooden box. "Be careful with it, they aren't cheap." Lucia opens the box and reveals  a tiny evil looking bat nestled inside. It chitters softly to itself. "There is a boat waiting for you at the docks, pier 19. Ask for Azar."

“Sounds fine, but what are you paying us?” asks Lucia. “2,000 gold between you, paid upon completion” replies Gunther. Lucia scowls “We're flat broke, we need the cash now.” “Gunther begins to shake his head wearily, then buries his face into his palms. “You guys, you are going to be the death of me.” “Hey, if you want the best you have to pay for them.” Lucia continues, sensing she has the flustered ogre on the ropes. “All right, all right!” yells Gunther, “1,000 gold up front, 1,000 on completion! But I'll tell you this, you're lucky I like you so much.” He reaches beneath his desk and pulls out a sack full of coins, then tosses it to Lucia who seems satisfied with the transaction. “I'd like my share now” says the Bagman sternly, “me too” adds Dalgrieve. Lucia sighs, then empties the sack on Gunther's desk and begins to divide the coins into three piles. Gunther smiles with amusement as the  the money is divvied up. 

With the money divided evenly between each mercenary, they decide that its time to leave. “Just one second” says Gunther as he staggers to his feet. He then grabs a huge cask of wine and power lifts it above his head. "Be a good lad and turn the tap on will you" Lucia obliges graciously, and hops up onto the desk.. She turns the tap on the cask and watches as a stream of dark red wine flows into Gunther's mouth. A minute later he is still drinking and his gut has swollen obscenely.

Satisfied with this latest development, the mercenaries exit the fortified guild hall of The Core and meander through the city streets towards the southern docks. The stench of death and fear hangs thick in the air. The games are on, and the roaring of the Colosseum crowd resonates throughout the city. The slave markets are bustling today. By evening they will have become the meat markets, and all slaves unlucky enough to remain un-purchased will be butchered and sold by the pound to the vendors of the cities thriving street food industry. 

As the mercenaries stroll past the huge iron fence that encloses the slave market they feel a twinge of pity, or is it hunger? No sooner had the thought of food crossed their mind, than the smell of charred flesh and exotic spices fills their nostrils. Some 50ft down the road a humanoid is cooking meat on a small portable grill that sits on a wheeled trolley. As he sees them approaching he smiles and yells loudly “Fresh iguana for you my friends, only the best iguanas from the far south, today for you I do special deal.” As they come closer they see that the vendor is a Kua Toa, a small scaly fish like creature with a large white gullet. “One silver piece for you my friends.”

“Shall we?” says the Bagman, licking his lips. “Why not? We're loaded” replies Lucia, pulling a gold coin out of her pocket. Dalgrieve looks suspicious and decides to save his money. “We'll take two” says the Bagman. They hand over the cash, and each receive a glistening cut of iguana meat impaled on a wooden skewer. The meat has been marinated in red liquid and grilled lightly, and as Lucia and the Bagman each take a bite their taste buds are overwhelmed with exquisite and invigorating flavours. As they continue to eat they feel themselves slide into a state of deep relaxation and contentment. “You done good, fish” says the Bagman to the kua toa as he finishes the last mouthful. 

They continue onwards towards to the docks. The waterfront area is made up of several dozen rickety wooden jetties that jut in to the tumultuous waters of the western coast. Vessels of all shapes and sizes are docked here. The area is deserted aside from a handful of dock workers sitting around a large stack of crates. At the end of pier 19 they see a decrepit looking vessel tethered to the jetty. The boat is about 30 yards long and has a single mast. Standing at its helm is a lithe figure wearing a large cloak. He stares searchingly in to the dark water below the ships helm. 

The mercenaries walk up the gang plank onto the filthy and head towards the figure who they assume to be Azar. As they approach he turns, and greets them with little enthusiasm. “I'm Azar. Gunther briefed me on our journey. We'll head south along the coast to the slavers outpost. The journey will take three days, I've been instructed to dock at the bay await for your return. Well then, I'd best show you below deck.” 

Azar shows the mercenaries below deck to their cramped cabin. Several of the ships kua toa crew are lying on hammocks, chattering away to each other in their native dialect. A dim lantern hangs from the waterlogged ceiling, swinging slowly as the ship bobs from side to side. Azar yells at the crew in their language and they begin to make their way above deck. “We're casting off now.” he says,  and walks up the rickety wooden stairs.

The passengers follow him above deck and watch as several of the kua toa crew climb nimbly up the mast and begin to hoist the sails. Azar stands at the wheel and begins to spin it with great effort. As wind fills the sails, the boat begins to move slowly out of the dock and in to the blackness of the western sea. From the rear of the boat you watch as the port of Tallas-Ka fades gradually in to the distance. Ahead lies the unknown. And the dark water, strangely still, stretches endlessly. 

For three days they sail south along the Ilk's rocky coast. Little of the coastline is accessible, with much of it consisting of impossibly high cliffs and treacherous rock formations. Midway in to the second day they pass the southern peaks. Violent and majestic, this volcanic mountain range marks the southern border of the Ilk, and the mercenaries cannot help feeling excited and more than a little apprehensive about traveling this far from familiar territory. An eruption is currently taking place, and they watch in awe as a river of lava gushes down a rocky slope and in to the sea. A huge plume of steam rises high in to the air as the molten rock hits the water.

It is the third day of the voyage, and the three comrades sit hunched over in their small cabin. Outside a storm rages, sending wave after wave crashing in to the vessel. The lantern that hangs from the ceiling swings wildly and suddenly they are thrown violently from their seats. Frantic shouts can be heard from above deck as the crew struggle to maintain the vessels course, but they seem to be fighting a losing battle. Suddenly a colossal wave crashes over the boat, tipping it over into the water.

“Abandon ship!” Azar yells, and the mercenaries hurriedly grab their possessions and scurry out through the stairwell which is rapidly filling with water. Seeing that a swim is unavoidable Dalgrieve and Lucia plunge headlong in to the seething water, followed seconds later by the raptor. The Bagman hesitates for a second before hurriedly tearing off his chain mail armour and boots, and joining his companions in the water. 

The waves are horrific in their size and the mercenaries paddle desperately towards the safety of the small cove. Finally they emerge from the swell, bedraggled and cold, and collapse exhausted on the soft yellow sand. After resting for a quarter of an hour they regain their composure, but it suddenly becomes apparent that they have absolutely no idea where they are.


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## papa_laz (Mar 10, 2009)

*Chapter 3 – Into the Void*

“Luckily for all of us I managed to take a look at that useless captains map during the journey” says Lucia. “I don't think we're that far away from the bay.” Dalgrieve and the Bagman are still sitting on the sand, staring silently into the seething ocean, and Lucia is visibly irritated by their nonchalance. She  decides to send Carlo the owl to scout the area. The three of them watch as the owl flies high into the air and eventually vanishes from sight. “I'm hungry” says the Bagman. “Any of you lizards got any food?” “I suppose we can go find some when the owl gets back” replies Lucia, knowing full well that she will be expected to do all the work. 

They wait for about fifteen minutes before Carlo returns and perches on Lucia's shoulder. “Well, what did you see my feathered friend?” asks Lucia, using her unusual ability to communicate with animals. “I saw plenty” replies the bird, “but I'm a little peckish.” “I'll give you some food little one, but first tell me where the settlement is.” The owl looks indignant. “I know you don't have any food.” “Well, one of them will be dead soon” says Lucia, gesturing towards her two comrades, “and then we can both eat.” Carlo glances towards the uthuk cleric and the firenewt druid. “They look a bit tough.” Lucia sighs loudly in frustration. “Look, just tell me where we are and then I'll find you some food on the way.” Carlo at last seems satisfied with this deal and reveals the location of the slavers outpost to Lucia, who quickly passes the information on to Dalgrieve and the Bagman.

“Ten miles north” mutters the cleric. “That could take half a day.” “Well lets get moving then” says Lucia. “But first I want my gold back” she adds. The Bagman takes a large pouch form out of his sack and hands it to Lucia, but as he does so he attempts to skim a few coins from the top of the bag without her noticing, fails miserably, and manages to tip the contents onto the sand. Lucia gives him a death stare, before snatching the empty pouch from his hands and bending over to collect the coins. As she does this the Bagman once again rifles through his sack, then realises he has left his own money on the sunken boat. At that same moment he also realises he has lot his boots in the swell. He scowls, then kicks the sand with his bare feet.

The three mercenaries continue south along the beach, but after several minutes they decide to move inland and begin to search for food amongst the wasteland scrub. An hour of foraging yields several handfuls of berries and an assortment of dead rodents which they devour quickly. They continue along the beach for several hours until they notice a plume of black smoke billowing upwards in the distance. After an hour of uneventful travel they reach a small secluded cove which stands out due to the torches suspended on large metal poles that have been placed along the beach every 100 feet, presumably to act as beacons to passing ships. A well worn trail that slopes up a rocky embankment leading inland is clearly visible, and the mercenaries decide this is the obvious route to take.

They notice that the coolness of the beach is slowly fading, and as they move further inland the familiar sweltering heat of the Ilk washes over them. After following the ascending path for some minutes the mercenaries find themselves standing on a ridge overlooking a village several hundred yards to the east. The source of the smoke is now visible, and appears to be a large bonfire burning in between several stone buildings. 

“Smells like death” mutters Lucia, who grits her teeth, then leads the party over the ridge and down towards the village.


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## Bercilac (Mar 21, 2009)

*Lucia had it coming*

Lucia Teronis was born in the Kzeritz Firelands as part of a clutch of 12 (it was a well-fed year in Kzerit).  She grew strong and quickly on the plentiful schools of fish that swam in the magma lakes.  Her family were semi-nomadic, following the great shoals in their meanderings around miles of lakes.

She had not yet taken the third initiation when lakes were annexed to the Empire to build forges.  The new landlord hired minotaur mercenaries to clear the lands of the Kzeritz, and Lucia's tribe went into hiding.  They learned to stick to the lowlands, where the minotaurs could not follow, but the food stocks were lower.  They had to raid into the highlands for food, though.  Two years after the minotaurs arrived, Lucia laid a clutch of only two eggs.  Clearly the Kzeritz were starving, as the largest clutch that year was six.

Everyone was nervous as they went on their raid into the Raidan fields.  They had their fishing nets with them, and their shortbows in case the minotaurs found them.  It was a complete success.  They had months' worth of food, time to add a bit of fat to the meager frames they had developed in their months on the run.  But when they returned to the nest, everything had been wiped out.  All of the young were dead.  The family wept.

Some ran into hiding, vowing to bring up a new generation in the lowlands, continuing survival as they had before.  Many were dissillusioned by this approach and surrendered to the Empire, hoping to make the best start they could in the new world that was rapidly displacing their old one.  Lucia and several others vowed revenge.

They launched a series of raids on the minotaur camps, slaying several dozen.  They were never caught, firing volleys of arrows at their sleeping opponents before diving into the lava flows to evade capture.  She grew quite expert at it.  They drove the minotaurs out of several of the fields, and began to advocate their war as a new means of resistance.  But those that still survived, that fled to raise a new generation rather than being constantly on the move in the fight, could not follow them.

Lucia and her band eventually went the way of those who had joined Empire society by joining a third.  They signed a contract with a mercenary company hired by a local Fire Giant king, who was also being attacked by the Empire.  They fought against the minotaurs with hundreds of allies now, and were truly hopeful about defeating the Empire, or at least convincing it not to come to Kzerit again.

But the Fire Giant king eventually signed a treaty with the Empire.  The war ended.  More minotaurs were freed up to wipe out the last firenewt refuges.  Lucia was cast adrift.  Several of her brothers and sisters were killed within a year.  The rest eventually part ways, realising that they needed to move to quickly in order to survive, and that it was not conducive with remaining as a group.

Lucia eventually joined the Imperial army, rising to the rank of Second Lieutenant.  Eventually she found the assignment which would fulfil her old vows of vengeance, that would vindicate the hard decision she had made joining the Empire.  The Empire was aquiring some plains and deserts, rich in iron ore, inhabited by the minotaur Tortoise clan.  Lucia hunted the minotaurs across the wastes as the leader of a platoon of Imperial scouts.  Then she would lead the main army to their location and they would wipe out whole camps.

The minotaurs lasted two years.  Again, Lucia was adrift.  She became reckless.  When the war finally ended, the war that the Empire had been waging for years to subdue all the land to its east, she was dismissed.  The army was paring down its military to a peacetime force.

She and a vast wave of veterans descended on the countryside.  Some robbed, but most began to seek new work.  Soon any small-time thug with cash and ambition could buy a private army.  Princelings sprang up everywhere.  This period has been described by Nargus of Uzo to as the Minari Strife.  Eventually Imperial forces were dispatched to disarm the princelings.  Several towns declared independence, and were quickly demolished.  The mercenaries were unequal to the fearless obedience of the Imperial regulars.  Several princes were granted town charters, agreeing basically to come into the fold of all-embracing Imperial jurisdiction.  The rest were simply abandoned by their armies, who saught greener pastures elsewhere.

Again Lucia moved, eventually settling with the notorious Core, a private mercenary guild operating in the domain of the Hydrass clan up north.  Eventually her work took her to Talas Ka on the eastern coast.  Working for Gunther the Gross, she extended the clan's control of the coast considerably.  Eventually she was assigned to investigage attacks on a slaving outpost in the Southlands.  She and her companions Bagman and Dalgrieve sailed along the coast, across a sea of actual water.  As they passed some volcanoes, Lucia suddenly realised how far she had come from home.

The ship crashed on some desolate shore, and Lucia who had always swam without fear in the fire lakes nearly drowned, and the crew abandoned them.  However she was unperturbed, easily picking up the trail to the slavers' camp.  They found it a wreck, and initially attacked its last guards when Lucia found the camp guarded by a minotaur, sparking a short and deadly fracas.  However, they were interrupted by a strange force of attackers coming from a tower that stood black upon the horizon.

During the fight, her owl Carlo had been shot.  While the rest of the party negotiated with the minotaur, who had survived the fight, Lucia had wept bitterly for her last living friend, the one companion who had never deserted her in the last three years of constant fighting.  She joined them, struggling to contain her grief.

The party found its way into a disused magma duct and entered the tower from below.  However, the chaos of Lucia's life had made her eratic, unwary.  With no Imperial troops at her back, and no real cause left to fight for, she led her fellows blindly to their capture.  In search of the mysterious "Zargo", they stormed into presence of what she had hoped would be a defenseless pile of over-pamered noblemen.  It turned out to be a council of demons.

Dalgrive may have been another Firenewt, but his people were from these northern parts.  He was not Kzeritz, he did not practise their ways.  She should have known not to trust him.  He fled, leaving her to her fate.  The Bagman, the strange headhunting cleric, was no more useful an associate.  She was set upon and beaten to within an inch of her life, spitting fire in rage and fear as she went down.

They awoke in Zargo's torture chamber, hanging from the ceiling.  She was, admittedly, satisfied to see her comrades hanging there beside her.

*Chapter 4 - Tortured*

Her head hurt.  Her face hurt.  Every part of her hurt.  Her eyes hurt to open, to see the fiends and their servants gathered in the tiny stone room.  They interrogated them.  They could not speak.  Their mouths had been sewn shut.  Then a horrible searing pain.  Lucia remembers every horrible detail of it, though her companions do not.

Their mouths were openened, again painfully, and the interrogation continued.  Lucia was groggy, irritated, and disoriented.  It was explained to them that they would live.  It was explained to them that they were receiving new orders.  It was explained to them that they now worked for new masters, against Gunther and the Hydrass clan.  She registered all of this, methodically.  There was more pain.  Lucia endured it, as she had endured pain for these twenty years.

One of the lead torturers, a tall slender demon, spoke.

"If you don't do what we say, we'll kill you."

Lucia laughed.  They honestly expected them to remain loyal, to go and betray their paying employer, on the basis of a threat, on the basis of an hour's torture?  So stupid, such amateurs.  She was Lucia Teronis, a soldier.  She didn't scare.

"And what will we be paid?"

The demon apparently thought the rules didn't apply to him.  Lucia can barely remember the next few seconds, but the next thing she remembered she was shrieking curses, writhing in pain.  There was blood on her left cheek.  And she couldn't see Bagman hanging to her left.

The next few minutes were a blur.  She writhed in pain and rage, screaming at her captors.  Who did they think they were anyway?  Lucia had been free once.  She had been free once.  Then she had run.  Then she had joined the very people who had driven her from home.  She had had her vengeance, and discovered its hollow satisfactions.  She had killed, time and again, for money.  But she had never been a slave.  She would not be a slave.  The pain, it wouldn't stop.

Her companions pleaded for mercy and they were eventually sedated.  In her rage, she somehow resisted the drugs that made her companions slip into a dreamlike state, that lifted away the last few hours' experience.  They forgot it all, it became unreal, but she would not forget that pain, that insult.  But she did not resist the demon entering her mind.

She awoke still in pain, but it was a soldier's pain.  It was the pain of wounds received.  And she knew the soldier's remedy.  A meal was shoved through the door.  She saw meat and wine and tried to crawl towards them.  It was so hard.  Why?  Ow, her head hurt.  They had poisoned her...  Yes, she remembered.

The scorpion tail lashes down, sinking into your chest and unleashing its venom.

It hurt to move.  Bagman had opened the door.  Weren't they in jail?  Her head hurt.  Just have a drink, Lucia.

They stumbled down a hallway.  They were in jail.  What's that?  Put on her armor?  Oh yes.  Slavery.  Have another drink, Lucia.

Beating.  Someone's beating me.  Oh yes, they beat slaves Lucia.  Have another drink.

I can't remember much more.  I woke up and my head hurt.  I was tied to a goat.

"LET ME RIDE THE !@*%$ PONY!"

Bagman and Dalgrieve laughed.  Why were they laughing?  But they cut her down (ruining a damn good rope in the process) and "let" her ride the goat.  This goat was so thin, it was barely fit for eating.  Even slaves don't ride goats.  Who the hell was Peter?  Why were they laughing?

"You named it Peter!"  Bagman crowed with laughter.  Lucia looked at the goat.  Peter?  Peter was kind of pathetic-looking.  Why a mammal?  What was she thinking?  Why had she befriended a mammal?  Mammals are delicious.

Dalgrieve had led them back to the entrance to the magma duct.  What the hell were they doing here?  Weren't they slaves?  Didn't they have a new job?  Why did he fight the demon in his mind so much, when she could barely even stand?

"KILLFACE!"

The firenewt druid called for its raptor companion.  Apparently he had made it this far in his escape attempt, lousy coward.  But his raptor was gone.  Lucia remembered Carlo.

"I'll find your raptor.  But give me the damn pony."

The druid was a fool.  The raptor tracks were obvious.  He was distraut.

"Find.  We find Killface and I'll give you the pony."

"NOW.  I'm a PROFESSIONAL.  I TAKE PAYMENT UP FRONT."  Lucia hissed her annoyance through clenched teeth.  Not even slaves rode GOATS.

They found the raptor within the hour.  The druid was actually thankful.  What a fool.  She didn't care for thanks, she just wanted to get paid.

Lucia Teronis would never be a slave.

Not even to a demon.


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## papa_laz (Mar 21, 2009)

This is excellent work Bercilac! Its great to see this character being fleshed out, her history really explains her chaotic state of mind. I also look forward to integrating the background you created into the Ilk's "official" history.


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## The Great Sage (Mar 23, 2009)

_Below I have uncovered several passages of the Bagman's journal. Further translation is required, and I think we may have a good insight into the events south of Talas-ka that Lucia the firenewt has referred to..._


At this late juncture, I feel that it is incumbent upon me to note down the recent events that I have experienced, for better or worse. There is a scratching inside my mind and I can not remove it. However perhaps if I am to commit to paper my memories then I feel I will go some way to regaining full control of my psyche.

I was born Aurelius Haar of the Ful'gaarth clan, as ruling house of Talas-ka. My upbringing was unusual by Uthuk standards, my parents schooling me personally in the archaic intricacies of the ruling bureaucracy of the city state. I matured quickly and by 15 found myself installed as a petty clerk recording, sentencing and carrying out...justicefor minor transgressions for Talas-ka's more primitive inhabitants. For a full five years, I dispensed a long drawn out death for any bugbear or ogre foolish enough to draw attention to itself. The art of the executioner is not a pure physical art, the paper work required to legitimise such actions is just as important as a keen blade. My pen was sharp, yet my axe was becoming steadily dulled. I rose rapidly through the vast machine of Talas-ka's government, and by the meagre age of 21 I occupied a position of high authority in regard to the procurement and placement of slaves, slavery guilds and the associated lower governing bodies set up to manage such a vast economy. For even the lowliest firenewt it is fully aware that the continuing success of Talas-ka is founded on the tireless slave trade.

Unsatisfied with the current state of my employment, I sought out several of the mercenary conglomerates that operated out of the Talas-ka's financial district. With the connections courtesy of my upbringing and position of authority, I found myself in the employ of several companies over the next few cycles. So far removed from the luxuries of my office, I found solace in the din of slave raids on far flung settlements. I found firenewts to be particularly cunning in avoiding capture, yet it was all one and the same. It was during this time that I cast aside my birthname and took up the moniker of 'the Bagman', due to the bag of shrunken heads I would carry tied to my belt. After a particularly violent season of raids, I gathered two firenewts as travelling companions and gained employment with the Core. While certainly not a highlight of my life up until that point, working under the Hydrass Clan certainly had its benefits, fringe or otherwise. 

I come now to my current state of employment, fruitful may not be an entirely appropriate word, but the last week has certainly been quite eventful. At least I have been able to add one more head to my bag.


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