# Grummok, Gargoyle Assassin (Updated 2/26/04) Epic Grummok 3.5



## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 6, 2003)

This thread is the home for Grummok's original story. In addition it will now serve as a home for the statistical part of An Assassin's Tale, the continuing adventures of the gargoyle assassin.

Thanks again for reading. 

Dirge


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 6, 2003)

Prologue:


Beneath the surface of Oerth, shrouded in the eternal darkness of fathomless depth, lies the drow city of Erelhei-Cinlu. Sprawling in degenerated majesty the city occupies a large portion of a massive, subterranean cavern known as the Vault of the Drow. Within this teeming metropolis, all manner of villainous beings live alongside the drow masters of the city, practicing their personal version of evil with almost complete freedom. The drow tolerate other races as long as they do not challenge the absolute authority of the spider queen and her priestesses, who hold the city in an iron grip of fear and domination. 

The city is ruled by eight noble houses that live in massive walled compounds on a huge shelf of rock projecting over the city below. These noble houses constantly vie for domination through assassinations and even outright war; this of course pleases their chaotic goddess who demands the winnowing out of the weak through perpetual strife. These rivalries between houses have encouraged the growth and development of a thriving assassin’s guild whose efficiency and reputation rival that of any guild on the surface. Jen Kedar Everhate, a wayward noble son of one of the eight ruling houses, controls the guild and is a powerful assassin himself.

The guild has had a long and bloody history and Jen Kedar has grown wealthy and powerful providing a valuable and much sought after service to the ruling nobility of Erelhei-Cinlu. The guild employs all manner of creatures, from traditional drow knife skulkers to stranger beings such as mindflayers and kuo-toa. Jen Kedar has a wide variety of agents to draw upon and makes sure that the perfect assassin for the job handles each assignment. The drow guildmaster actively recruits potential guild members from all over the city, and it was one of his more unique choices that eventually led to his downfall. 

What follows is the story of the bloody rise to power of Grummok, a ruthless gargoyle rogue and assassin whose ambition is only matched by his malice. We will witness his humble beginnings as a petty thief, to his acceptance into the assassin’s guild, and finally the bloody coup that places him firmly in the command of the assassin’s guild of Erelhei-Cinlu.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 7, 2003)

*Grummok (age 15):* Male Gargoyle Rog 1; CR 5; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+1d6+30; hp 63; Init +4; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (average); AC 21 (+4 Dex, +4 natural, +2 leather armor, +1 ring); Atk +8 melee (1d4+2, 2 claws), +6 melee (1d6+1, bite), +6 melee (1d6+1 gore); SA sneak attack +1d6; SQ darkvision 60 ft., DR 15/+1, freeze; AL NE; SV Fort +10, Ref +8, Will +2; Str 14, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 13, Wis 12, Cha 12.
  Skills (38 pts): Disguise +5, Hide +12, Intimidate +4, Listen +8, Move Silently +19, Spot +8.
  Feats: Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore)
  Languages: Undercommon, Terran, Drow
  Possessions: ring of protection +1, leather armor, boots of elvenkind

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

Grummok started life as all gargoyles do, hatching from an egg that resembled a large round stone. He broke through the rocky integument of his egg casing to the chorus of chirps and growls of his brood mates. He was the last to hatch of four, and his siblings wasted no time in ascertaining whether he was edible or not. Grummok fought off his brood mates with unrestrained viciousness, mortally wounding his only sister and insuring that she became the first meal for the newborn gargoyle brood. 

Grummok’s mother, like all gargoyle parents, had abandoned her clutch of eggs shortly after laying them. Uncaring as she was, Grummok’s mother had chosen a perfect site in which to deposit her future offspring. The Ghetto of the Dead was a crumbling ruin of graveyards and abandoned buildings that were ideal for a group of young gargoyles to hide in. Not only was the ghetto full of stone statuary that provided ample camouflage, but the living inhabitants of Erelhei-Cinlu avoided the district at all costs for it was home to the city’s other, less savory denizens, the undead. The streets of the Ghetto of the Dead were patrolled by ravening packs of ghouls and ghasts while more powerful undead established liars and ruled over small fiefdoms of their lesser brethren. Grummok and his siblings clawed their way from their eggs within a huge crypt that dominated the largest cemetery in this realm of the dead. Within the relative safety of their macabre lair the fledgling gargoyles ventured forth to hunt in the back alleys of Erelhei-Cinlu. 

The beggar’s ghetto offered the gargoyle brood the best hunting at first; the weakened state of its inhabitants made them easy prey for a determined trio of hungry fledgling gargoyles. The victim was often eaten where he fell, but was occasionally dragged back to the Ghetto of the Dead to be devoured at leisure. The young gargoyles grew to maturity in this manner, hiding from the packs of roving undead in their cemetery lair and hunting the back alleys of the sprawling city for victims that would not be missed. 

Grummok soon realized that his siblings were nowhere near his equals in intellect, and he found himself planning and leading their forays into the city. He was not the physical equal of his two brothers, Bremok and Kormok, but they often deferred to his judgment and instincts when stalking a victim. As the gargoyles grew they became bolder and bolder, hunting other areas of the city and tackling more challenging prey. In addition to the meat they claimed from anyone unfortunate enough to cross the their path, the three gargoyles began claiming trinkets and souvenirs from their victims. Bremok and Kormok were generally drawn to brightly colored objects, especially prizing gold and gemstones, while Grummok claimed other less obvious but far more interesting items. Satisfied that their smaller brother had no interest in the gold and gems they coveted, Bremok and Kormok paid little mind to the rings, boots, amulets and other seemingly useless items that Grummok claimed from their victims. Because of this Grummok soon found himself in possession of a few minor magical items that his brothers had overlooked, simply because they were not made of gold or did not glitter with gems.

The three gargoyles existed by petty theft and murder for fifteen years, going mostly unnoticed in the dangerous bedlam that was Erelhei-Cinlu. Over the years Grummok honed his skills in silent killing and even learned to disguise his horrid countenance to lure potential victims into dark alleys where he and his brothers could quietly rip them to shreds. Kormok and Bremok seemed satisfied with their simple existence, but Grummok was quickly growing bored with his brothers’ mindless savagery and lack of ambition. The young gargoyle craved more from the vast city that thrived around him, but what direction he would take was still uncertain. There was power here for the taking, Grummok was certain, and he would find a way to claim a piece of the chaos of Erelhei-Cinlu for himself. 


Grummok is a small gargoyle, but what he lacks in physical prowess he makes up for with cunning and simple viciousness. His older brothers, although much larger, respect their smaller sibling and even fear him. Grummok is a horrifying creature to behold with slate gray, rock-like skin and gleaming red eyes set in a nightmarish face that is all fangs and curving horns. Grummok relishes tearing his victims apart with his claws and fangs and has even learned some roguish tricks to compliment his already deadly close combat arsenal. 


*Gargoyle Names:*

Gargoyle names are always in Terran, the tongue of the earth, a language that is instinctual to the evil beasts. Since gargoyle parents abandon their offspring even before they are hatched the naming of the fledgling gargoyles usually falls to the largest and strongest of the brood. In Grummok’s case the naming duties fell to Bremok. The name Grummok comes from the two Terran words grum, meaning small and mok meaning stone, since Grummok was the smallest of the three gargoyles Bremok deemed “little stone” a fine name for his smaller brother. As the largest of the three Bremok is of course “big stone” and the third sibling Kormok, having been born with sooty black skin is simply “black stone”.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 8, 2003)

*Grummok (age 20):* Male Gargoyle Rog 2; CR 6; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+2d6+36; hp 72; Init +4; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (average); AC 22 (+4 Dex, +4 natural, +3 studded leather armor, +1 ring); Atk +9 melee (1d4+2, 2 claws), +7 melee (1d6+1, bite), +7 melee (1d6+1 gore); SA sneak attack +1d6; SQ darkvision 60 ft., DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +10, Ref +8, Will +2; Str 14, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 13, Wis 12, Cha 12.
  Skills (47 pts): Bluff +3, Disguise +7, Hide +14, Intimidate +4, Listen +9, Move Silently +21, Spot +9.
  Feats: Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote) 
  Languages: Undercommon, Terran, Drow
  Possessions: ring of protection +1, masterwork studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

Five years stalking the back alleys and slums of Erelhei-Cinlu have sharpened Grummok’s considerable skills in stealth and skullduggery. Grummok can literally disappear into the gloom that cloaks the vast drow city and his victims never hear him until its far too late. The young gargoyle has also become adept at disguising himself as a beggar or other social castoff with the use of a heavy cowled cloak and the liberal application of dung and refuse. Clever and cruel, Grummok often takes his time killing an intended meal and has learned the use of the garrote, a nasty weapon that allows him to prolong the suffering of his victims.

Grummok’s brood has dwindled to two, his brother Kormok was slain when he and his siblings attempted to rob and murder an unassuming drow mercenary. The mercenary turned out to be the weapon master of house Tormtor, the ruling noble house of Erelhei-Cinlu. The three gargoyles had followed the drow mercenary after he had left a seedy inn in the Ghetto of Foreigners, the warrior was obviously drunk and Grummok felt he would be easy prey. As was their normal routine, Grummok shadowed their quarry from the ground while Bremok and Kormok flitted from building top to building top, following a discreet distance from their brother. Grummok stalked the drow warrior along the Street of Lies, the long crooked avenue that featured the only temples to deities other than Lolth in the entire city. The warrior stumbled along seemingly oblivious of his shadowy pursuer and turned abruptly down a gloomy side street with the obvious intent of relieving himself. Grummok smiled viciously and followed the warrior into the dark.

The side street was little more than a narrow alley strewn with debris and it ended abruptly some thirty yards from the Street of Lies in a solid stonewall. The drow warrior was standing at the end of the alley with his back turned, urinating and humming discordantly. Grummok slid against the wall silent as a shadow and began to edge closer to the preoccupied drow. When he was mere feet from his victim and gathering himself to pounce, the drow suddenly spoke, his voice echoing softly in the close space of the alley. “You, my friend. Have made a mistake. I suggest you and your poor judgment leave now or spend your last few moments on this plane bleeding in a puddle of my piss.” His tone and words were measured and clear, betraying not a hint of the drunkenness he had exhibited earlier. 

Grummok froze, how on earth had the drow known he was there? Grummok had never been noticed before, and had certainly never been caught off his guard by a drunken mercenary. Fear raced up the gargoyle’s spine, he was over his head here; the drow warrior had not even bothered to turn around after delivering his warning. Grummok was about to flee, when his two brothers, with perfect timing, chose that instant to descend from the roof tops on either side of the ally to attack the drow warrior below. 

Before Grummok could shout a warning, Kormok and Bremok had landed on either side of the drow and the warrior had drawn a long gleaming saber so quickly that it appeared to have sprung for the air itself. The drow spun like a dancer, lashing out with his boot to catch Bremok in the side of his skull, sending him crashing against the wall of the alley. Kormok was not so lucky, the drow’s saber licked out as he completed his spin, ripping across the stunned gargoyle’s abdomen and spilling his entrails into the filth of the alley floor. 

Grummok did not wait to see if the drow would turn on him next, he fled, taking to the air as soon as space allowed. The dying shrieks of Kormok floated after him, but he paid no heed, his brother was as good as dead and Bremok would most certainly share his sibling’s fate. Grummok raced back to the Ghetto of the Dead and to the safety of the crypt that had been the gargoyle’s home for over two decades. Grummok was more than a little surprised when Bremok stumbled into the lair and hour later bleeding and cursing. It took Grummok almost half an hour to calm his brother and get him to explain how he had survived. The story was very simple; after gutting Kormok the drow had casually cleaned his blade with his handkerchief and walked, unchallenged from the alley. Bremok had lain in disbelief where the drow’s kick had propelled him and watched Kormok slowly bleed to death, futilely begging his brother to save him. 

The two gargoyles resigned to be more careful in the future, for the city of Erelhei-Cinlu obviously held creatures far more dangerous than themselves. Grummok found comfort in the fact that the night had not been a total loss. Bremok had brought back Kormok’s body so at least they would not go hungry.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 9, 2003)

Grummok (age 26): Male Gargoyle Rog 3; CR 7; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+3d6+42; hp 81; Init +4; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (average); AC 23 (+4 Dex, +4 natural, +4 studded leather armor, +1 ring); Atk +10 melee (1d4+2, 2 claws), +8 melee (1d6+1, bite), +8 melee (1d6+1 gore); SA sneak attack +2d6; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC), DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +11, Ref +11, Will +3; Str 14, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 13, Wis 12, Cha 12.
  Skills (56 pts): Bluff +4, Disguise +10, Hide +15, Intimidate +5, Listen +9, Move Silently +21, Open Lock +7, Spot +9.
  Feats: Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote) 
  Languages: Undercommon, Terran, Drow
  Possessions: ring of protection +1, +1 studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote

Freeze (Ex): Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

Evasion (Ex): If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

Since the death of Kormok, Grummok and Bremok have practiced much greater caution in their nightly hunting forays. The Ghetto of Foreigners has become the two gargoyles primary hunting ground and the district’s numerous taverns and seedy inns provide ample prey numbed by drink and desperation. Although the hunting is good, Grummok has become increasingly frustrated with Bremok’s inclination for wanton slaughter and brutality. Grummok’s dull witted sibling has no concept of the finer points of murder and tends to rip his prey to shreds before even a descent whimper can be wringed from the unfortunate. Grummok has tried to school Bremok in the subtle methods of inflicting pain and prolonged suffering but the hulking gargoyle has no patience for it and Grummok has begun to hunt alone. 

Grummok enjoys his solo hunts immensely for it allows him to indulge his lust for pain and torment, glutting himself with malice and cruelty. The gargoyle has a special place he brings victims he wishes to torture at length, a burnt out building in one of the most deplorable districts in the entire city. The Ghetto of Savages is home to the humanoid mercenaries often employed by the drow as bodyguards or soldiers; it is a terrible slum consisting of little more than flophouses and ramshackle huts. The stench from the district is bad enough to deter even ghouls from entering its borders and it is perfect for a gargoyle rogue who wishes for a bit of privacy to indulge his fiendish hobby.

Unbeknownst to Grummok his kidnappings and torture sessions have not gone unnoticed and have in fact attracted the attention of one who would change the gargoyle’s life forever. Jen Kedar Everhate, guild master of assassins in Erelhei-Cinlu, is always on the lookout for potential recruits. He had been watching Grummok for quite some time and was impressed with the skills the gargoyle displayed. Gargoyles were not normally known for their subtlety and the drow assassin was intrigued with the unusual Grummok. Jen Kedar decided to offer the gargoyle a chance to join his guild if he could prove himself worthy of such an honor.

Jen Kedar made his offer on a night Grummok had gone out hunting without his brother. The drow assassin had no interest in Bremok, finding the big gargoyle’s methods crude and coarse, and had waited for a chance to confront Grummok alone. Jen Kedar waited for Grummok to show up in the Ghetto of Foreigners, his favorite hunting grounds, and followed the gargoyle as he tailed a potential victim. Grummok had chosen a duergar trader that had spent too much time in one of the local inns. Stinking drunk, the unfortunate gray dwarf was completely unaware of the silent death that stalked him through the streets of Erelhei-Cinlu. 

Grummok followed the duergar from the rooftops and chose his moment to strike with the precision of a well-trained professional. The drunken dwarf had been ambling down the street of lies and had suddenly stopped to vomit the sour contents of his stomach onto the cracked cobblestones. Silent as a spider, Grummok had floated down for the rooftops with barely a flutter of his wings and had approached the dwarf disguised as a beggar. Pretending to be a concerned passerby, Grummok bent over the dwarf who was still heaving up the cheap beer he had consumed by the gallon hours before, and nonchalantly slipped the wire garrote around the duergar's neck. The poor dwarf caught one glance at his assailant’s horrific face before his throat was pinched shut and he was dragged bodily into one of the many alleys that lined the street of lies.

Grummok took his time strangling the dwarf; repeatedly loosening the garrote just before the dwarf lost consciousness and allowing him to partially recover, then strangling him all over again. After over half an hour of toying with the dwarf Grummok was finally overcome with blood lust and sank his wicked teeth into the soft flesh at the base of the dwarf’s skull. The duergar convulsed once and then was still and Grummok drug his victim further into the alley to consume his prize. 

Grummok was just about to begin his feast when a voice suddenly whispered out of the darkness. “That was well done, if a bit messy there towards the end.” The voice had a slight lisp and had spoken in the language of the drow, not the common tongue of the underdark. Grummok leapt up from the corpse of the duergar and quickly scanned the alley with his darkvision but could not locate the origin of the voice. 

“ Who are you?” Grummok called softly in drow, straining his eyes for a sign of any movement.

A soft chuckle emanated from the still darkness. “I thought you might be able to speak our language. You are quite the extraordinary little beast, aren’t you?” the tone of the voice was light and there was obvious mirth in its dulcet tones. “Well, let us dispense with this game and get down to business.” 

The air in front of Grummok began to ripple like a still pond disturbed by an errant stone and suddenly a tall well-dressed drow man materialized a few feet away from the stunned gargoyle. The drow was tall for his race and lanky with an achingly handsome face and a shock of white hair cropped close to his head. A long black cloak hung from the drow’s shoulders and Grummok could see the glint of fine mail links beneath the dark fabric. There were no obvious weapons on the newcomer but Grummok had no doubt that the drow was far from unarmed.

Grummok squared his shoulders and stood to his full height, unfurling his wings to make him appear larger. “What do you want?” he said in drow, inflecting as much venom as he could in those four short words. “This kill is mine, and I _will_ fight for it.”

“I am no thief, friend.” The drow responded smiling hugely. “ I am something far, far worse.” The drow’s eyes gleamed threateningly and his smile took on a predatory gape. “ I have watched you for quite some time now and I must say that I am impressed with your skills, especially since you have had no formal training.”

“What skills are you talking about?” Grummok said his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The drow pointed to the corpse at the gargoyles feet and raised his silvery eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t be so modest, you do good work. You are quick, when you want to be, and…. lingering when there is a need for such things. Trust me I am quite knowledgeable in such matters for I am Jen Kedar Everhate, and I am the guild master of assassins in Erelhei-Cinlu.” The drow paused for effect and then made his pitch. “I could have need of such a being as you, if you are interested and able to prove yourself. Personally, I have no doubt that with training you would make a formidable assassin.”

Grummok was intrigued; here was possibly a chance to gain a tiny bit of the power he had oft dreamed of as well as the opportunity to indulge his sadism. Grummok, showing his inexperience and more eagerness than he would have liked jumped at the drow’s offer. “You spoke of proving myself, what must I do to join your guild.”

The predatory smile suddenly returned to Jen Kedar’s noble features and he spoke with obvious pleasure. “It’s quite simple really. You just have to kill your brother.”


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 11, 2003)

*Grummok (age 32):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4; CR 8; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+4d6+48; hp 90; Init +4; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (good); AC 23 (+4 Dex, +4 natural, +4 studded leather armor, +1 ring); Atk +11 melee (1d4+2, 2 claws), +9 melee (1d6+1, bite), +9 melee (1d6+1 gore); SA sneak attack +2d6; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC), DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +12, Ref +12, Will +4; Str 14, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 12.
_Skills (66 pts):_ Bluff +6, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +8, Hide +15, Intimidate +5, Listen +10, Move Silently +21, Open Lock +9, Spot +10.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote) 
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ ring of protection +1, +1 studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

Grummok accepted Jen Kedar Everhate’s offer and his terms the very same night the drow assassin had confronted him in the Ghetto of Foreigners. Grummok was to kill Bremok within the space of three days and bring irrefutable proof to Jen Kedar that the job had been completed. Once Grummok had slain his sole remaining sibling his training would begin. He would be allowed to live at the guildhall and would become an apprentice assassin under the tutelage of a more experienced member of the guild. Grummok felt no remorse about slaying his brother; in truth he despised the loutish gargoyle for his lack of intelligence and was looking forward to ending Bremok’s useless existence. 

Bremok was, however, a mighty combatant and Grummok had no wish to fight his brother on equal ground. The cunning Grummok would use every last ounce of his cunning and malice to ensure that Bremok suspected nothing of the imminent threat to his life. Grummok vowed that he would bring Jen Kedar the head of his sibling three days hence and be ready to begin his career as an assassin.

Bremok like Grummok had begun to hunt alone and favored the Ghetto of Beggars for his hunting grounds. Grummok had followed his brother in the past to secretly observe his hunting methods and to see if he happened across any treasure Grummok could later steal, he was disappointed on both accounts. Bremok’s “hunting style” involved choosing a beggar or street urchin at random and simply swooping down from a building top to pluck his victim in full view of any who cared to watch. He would then carry off his prize and unceremoniously devour the unfortunate, leaving the half eaten corpse where it lay once Bremok had had his fill. Bremok’s victims typically possessed only the rags they wore gaining the big gargoyle nothing from them beyond a full stomach. Grummok would strike at his brother on one of his solo hunts, careless as Bremok was it would be no great task for the stealthy Grummok to tail his brother and attack when least expected.

Grummok’s opportunity arose on the second night after his meeting with Jen Kedar. Bremok had left the lair early in the evening to hunt while Grummok feigned sleep, Grummok allowed Bremok a slight head start and then set out after him. The smaller gargoyle went straight to the Ghetto of Beggars and there found a suitable rooftop that offered him ample cover and a clear view of the entire ghetto; Bremok would choose a victim soon and Grummok would be waiting. Grummok had brought no weapons with him; his normal arsenal would be of no use against Bremok’s rocky skin and formidable prowess. This battle would be settled by tooth and claw but in the one arena that Grummok stood a fighting chance. Grummok was a skilled flier and his movements in the air were precise and graceful, while Bremok was little more than a lumbering behemoth barely able to stay aloft. Grummok would strike at his brother in midair where the advantage was distinctly his. 

While he waited for his brother to appear Grummok studied the twisting streets below from his lofty perch; the crumbling buildings and ramshackle huts of the beggar’s ghetto were packed with the cities unwanted and undesirables. The ghetto of Foreigners was nominally the district that catered to non-drow but it was the beggar’s ghetto that actually boasted any significant population of outsiders. Many visitors from the surface ended up here, survivors of failed adventuring expeditions or simply merchants that had fallen prey to the wanton cruelty of Erelhei-Cinlu. Grummok found the beings that lived in the beggar’s ghetto disgusting, not even fit to eat, so low had they fallen that there was little the Grummok could take from them and the death he offered would likely be a welcome release. The fiendish gargoyle preferred victims with a life that was cherished for when it was extinguished their pain was exquisite and this is where Grummok found his purpose.

Grummok’s evil musings were suddenly broken by screams and shouts from below, a dark shape had appeared in the air above the streets and the denizens of the beggar’s ghetto were frantically scurrying for cover. Bremok had arrived at last and Grummok prepared himself for the conflict to come. Grummok watched Bremok swoop low over the streets, mouth gaping with savage hunger scanning the street below for a suitable target. Most of the potential prey had sought cover from the marauding gargoyle but one deep gnome, frozen with terror simply stood immobile while Bremok homed in. The big gargoyle tempted with such an easy target gathered the doomed svirfneblin into his grasp and sped off to devour his prize.

Bremok climbed towards the ceiling of the huge cavern that housed the city of Erelhei-Cinlu clutching the deep gnome tightly to his body. So intent was Bremok on securing his prize he did not see Grummok streaking up towards him claws splayed and murder gleaming in his eyes. Grummok collided with Bremok with bone jarring force, sinking his claws into his surprised brother and clinging with all his might. Bremok lost his grip on the unfortunate deep gnome from the impact and the poor svirneblin fell silently to his death, a far kinder fate than what Bremok had had in store for him. 

Bremok was stunned only for a moment and as rage surged through the big gargoyle he brought his own claws and teeth to bear. The two gargoyles could not stay aloft, locked in battle as they were, and plummeted towards the earth in tangled chaos of claws, teeth and horns. 

The cavern known as the Vault of the Drow is truly immense with a mineral veined ceiling soaring over 1000 fathoms above the city of Erelhei-Cinlu. Grummok had ambushed his brother some 600 feet above the cavern floor and the two now hurtled towards the city below ripping and biting each other seemingly oblivious of their reckless freefall. Grummok was getting the worst of the close quarters battle as the far stronger Bremok tore into his flesh with unbridled savagery, but Grummok knew he only had to hold on a few seconds more. As the city rushed up to meet them Grummok fought to climb on top of his brother so that Bremok’s back was facing the ground. Now in the position he wanted Grummok waited until the final seconds before impact and then squirmed free of his brother’s claws with the ease of a serpent spreading his wings wide. Grummok’s outstretched wings acted as a parachute slowing his fall and allowing him to pull out of the freefall and into controlled flight. Bremok was not so lucky, he was falling with his back toward the ground and he was nowhere near as skilled at flight as Grummok. Realizing his peril Bremok’s tried to spread his wings but the force of the air blasting against his body caused them to crumple around him in a useless and lethal shroud. 

Bremok slammed into the broken cobblestones on the Beggar’s Ghetto with a bone-shattering crunch and lay still. Grummok landed lightly a few feet from his brother’s inert form and crept closer fearing that even a 600-foot fall might not be enough to kill the formidable gargoyle. Grummok’s worries were immediately put to rest when he got close enough to Bremok to see the carnage the fall had wrought. A widening pool of black blood surrounded Bremok and his body was a pulped mass of smashed bone and ruptured flesh. Bremok's face was eternally frozen in a rictus mask of hatred and Grummok hoped that the last thing Bremok had seen before he hit was his traitorous brother smiling down at him.

Grummok drug his bother’s body into one of the many abandoned buildings that loomed nearby and began the grisly task of removing Bremok’s head. Having no weapons on his person, Grummok was forced to use his teeth and claws to rip through the neck and claim his bloody prize. Once finished Grummok placed the severed head in a large sack he had brought for that very purpose and flew off towards the Ghetto of Artisans, the city district that housed Jen Kedar’s assassin guild. The battle with Bremok had left Grummok sorely wounded but he hardly felt the gashes in his flesh. The gargoyle was in high spirits, he was about to embark on the journey that would define his purpose and eventually lead him to the power he had craved all his life.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 13, 2003)

*Grummok (age 32):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn1; CR 9; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+5d6+54; hp 100; Init +4; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (good); AC 23 (+4 Dex, +4 natural, +4 studded leather armor, +1 ring); Atk +13 melee (1d4+4, 2 claws), +9 melee (1d6+1, bite), +9 melee (1d6+1 gore); SA sneak attack +3d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC), DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +12, Ref +14, Will +4; Str 14, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 12.
_Skills (72 pts):_ Bluff +6, Craft (poison making) +6, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +9, Hide +26, Intimidate +5, Listen +10, Move Silently +21, Open Lock +9, Spot +10.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote) 
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ ring of protection +1, +1 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of magic fang +2
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (1; save DC 12 + spell level): 1st -- change self.

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 13) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.
Poison Use: Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

Jen Kedar Everhate was not surprised in the least when a slightly bedraggled Grummok showed up in the Ghetto of Artisans and presented himself at the assassin’s guildhall. The gargoyle clutched a large burlap sack that was stained with crimson and dripping, this he unceremoniously dumped at the feet of the guild master. The sack contained the severed head of Bremok, Grummok’s brother, and was the proof Jen Kedar required that Grummok had the ambition as well as the disposition to succeed as an assassin. After a short tour of the guildhall Grummok was assigned quarters and told that he would meet his mentor who would supervise the gargoyle’s training for the next seven years, on the morrow. 

Grummok’s mentor turned out to be a surly veteran by the name of Shebon Mot, haughty and arrogant in the extreme the drow assassin was less than pleased that his new apprentice was not drow and in his estimation little more than a savage beast. Shebon Mot explained to Grummok that his training would be long and grueling and in addition his new mentor made it very plain that he had serious doubts that the gargoyle had the fortitude or the intellect to succeed. Grummok bore the drow assassin’s disdain for him stoically, he would learn from this fool, and then when he had no more use for him, he would show Shebon up close and personal just what an attentive student he had been.

The first year of Grummok’s training was everything his mentor had said it would be. Grummok spent long hours studying killing techniques and poison brewing as well as honing his physical skills in stealth and combat forms. Shebon drove him relentlessly pushing him harder than any of the other apprentices, but it only drove Grummok to try that much harder if only to prove to Shebon that his less than favorable assessment of his pupil was dead wrong. Jen Kedar Everhate checked in often on Grummok to monitor his progress; the guild master seemed pleased, even if Shebon Mot’s weekly reports expressed only disappointment in the fledgling gargoyle assassin. 

Grummok began his training alongside four other apprentices all hoping to make their mark in the vile trade of assassination. Grummok insured that two of these apprentices did not survive the first year; one he strangled quietly in his sleep, the other he picked a fight with at an inn and then proceeded to tear him to pieces. Grummok did not go to great length to hide his amateur assassinations for this type of activity was quietly encouraged within the guild. Those who were unable to fend off their colleague’s murderous machinations were deemed unworthy to hold the title of assassin in the first place. 

With the first year behind him, Grummok’s training became more hands on; he was allowed to accompany Shebon Mot on assignment. The kill was still Shebon’s to make, but Grummok aided in reconnaissance and preparation. Grummok spent seven years as Shebon’s apprentice learning what he could from the drow assassin and appearing to be an eager and attentive student. Shebon never paid his apprentice the respect the gargoyle rightly deserved and Grummok’s resentment of the drow assassin grew over the years. Grummok vowed that before he graduated to the rank of assassin there would be a reckoning between he and his teacher, a reckoning that one of them would not survive.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 15, 2003)

*Grummok (age 39):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn2; CR 10; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+6d6+60; hp 109; Init +8; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (good); AC 23 (+4 Dex, +4 natural, +4 studded leather armor, +1 ring); Atk +14 melee (1d4+4, 2 claws), +10 melee (1d6+1, bite), +10 melee (1d6+1 gore); SA sneak attack +4d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC), DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +12, Ref +15, Will +4; Str 14, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 12.
_Skills (78 pts):_ Bluff +6, Craft (poison making) +6, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +9, Gather Information +6, Hide +27, Intimidate +5, Listen +10, Move Silently +22, Open Lock +9, Spot +10.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative 
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ ring of protection +1, +1 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of magic fang +2
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (2; save DC 12 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 14) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

The beginning of Grummok’s eighth year at the assassin’s guild was a momentous one, he graduated from apprentice to journeyman assassin and he made his first professional kill. Grummok’s first contract was none other than his mentor and teacher Shebon Mot; the contract was handed down from Jen Kedar himself who had tired of Shebon’s lackluster performance and arrogant blustering. Jen Kedar saw great potential in Grummok and the gargoyle knew that the slaying of his former mentor was just another hurdle to overcome on his way to glory and power. 

Grummok would have to be very careful with Shebon Mot, for all his arrogance the drow was still a dangerous opponent. If Shebon were to get wind of the contract on his head it would very likely mean Grummok himself would become the target of assassination. Grummok’s plan would have to be flawlessly executed and to this end he spent months monitoring every movement of his former mentor. Grummok found that Shebon had hidden much from him when he labored as the drow’s apprentice. The city of Erelhei-Cinlu catered to all manner of vice and Shebon Mot was a connoisseur of perverse pleasure second to none. The drow assassin was a frequent visitor to the fleshpots that lined the streets of the Ghetto of Outcasts, with his particular favorite being a brothel that specialized in providing its patrons with delights from the surface world, usually in the form of various human and elven slaves. Grummok had followed Shebon to the brothel on many occasions and noted that the drow assassin spent hours at a time there. Grummok decided that here if nowhere else Shebon would most likely be at his most vulnerable. 

When Grummok was sure that Shebon was tied up elsewhere the gargoyle disguised himself with magic and his considerable skill with mummery and paid a visit to Shebon’s favorite brothel. The brothel was carved into a massive stalactite and consisted of two stories, the bottom story was a simple common room where guests could choose a slave and the top story was filled with dozens of small rooms where a guest could seek his pleasure with his chosen in private. A grossly fat drow woman named Hunnek owned the brothel and managed her stable of pleasure slaves with an iron fist. On one of Grummok’s reconnaissance visits he watched the brutal drow Madame beat an elven girl to death when she did not perform to her patron’s satisfaction. The slaves were a pitiful lot, malnourished and broken by despair; there was little hope of these unfortunate souls ever returning to wherever they had come from. Most were destined to die used and cast away when they could no longer catch the eye of the brothel’s patrons or perform the necessary functions of their lowly positions. 

Grummok cared little for the brothel, there was no sport in prey that was already broken and hopeless, his estimation of Shebon slipped even lower with the knowledge of the drow’s pathetic indulgences. Grummok bent himself to learning what he could from the other patrons that frequented the brothel. He learned that the Shebon had a favorite slave, a human boy by the name of Hek, the boy was easy to recognize, as he was the youngest slave in Madame Hunnek’s stable. Hek was badly used, his face a mask of bruises and slowly healing cuts and he limped terribly when he walked, it was a wonder that Madame Hunnek had not gotten rid of him yet. Grummok found that the only reason that Hek was not cast out was that a certain wealthy patron had taken a liking to the boy and would be satisfied with no other, the boys injuries were the result of this patron’s attentions.

Grummok knew that Hek was the best way to strike at Shebon for he would suspect nothing from the boy. Grummok requested the services of Hek on one of his visits to the brothel and after he had received a stern warning from Madame Hunnek not to harm the boy overly much as he was a favorite of a very wealthy and influential client, he took the boy upstairs and set his plan in motion. Hek of course expected nothing but the abuse he received day in and day out from the brothel’s other clients, but Grummok had far greater concerns than simple sadism. Grummok had disguised himself as a human merchant, hoping a familiar face would help set the boy at ease. The disguised gargoyle told Hek that he had no interest in hurting him but would very much like to see Hek get a chance to strike out at those who had. Grummok described Shebon Mot to the boy, and Hek’s face immediately filled with dread and hatred, yes he knew Shebon very well indeed. Grummok offered the boy two things vengeance and freedom; vengeance against Shebon and once the drow assassin was dead enough gold to take him back home. 

Hek eagerly accepted Grummok’s offer and the gargoyle outlined what he wished the human slave to do. Shebon began his sessions with Hek in a very curious manner, the assassin had supplied Madame Hunnek with a supply of his favorite wine and on the days he visited, a glass was set out for him in the room where he and Hek would meet. The drow assassin would slowly drink his wine while he described in horrid detail everything that he would do to the boy allowing Hek’s fear to reach a crescendo before the pain actually began. Hek was alone with the glass of wine for at least five minutes before Shebon arrived and Grummok supplied the boy with dose of white powder in a small paper tube to mix into Shebon’s drink. The powder was a powerful poison of Grummok’s own design and would paralyze its victim while leaving him completely aware of his surroundings. Grummok told Hek that the poison was fast working and that as soon as Shebon was under its affects, Hek was to wait for Grummok to arrive, he would then be paid and set free.

Grummok knew that Shebon would visit the brothel the next day and the gargoyle would be waiting for him. Shebon did not disappoint, he showed up at his scheduled time and was told that all was arranged for him upstairs. The drow assassin did not notice Grummok who had disguised himself well and hurried upstairs obviously eager to begin his debauchery. Grummok waited fifteen minutes and then chose a slave of his own and went upstairs as well. The gargoyle noted that the room Shebon and Hek occupied was quite silent, he smiled to himself eagerly looking forward to dispatching his former mentor once and for all. Grummok led his slave to the room that he had chosen and once the door was closed quickly and silently strangled the unfortunate slave so that he could not raise any sort of alarm when Grummok left the room to deal with Shebon. 

Grummok waited another five minutes before he left his own room and crept down the hall to the room that held Shebon and Hek. The door was unlocked and Grummok opened it silently and stepped inside. The small room was sparsely furnished, consisting of a flea infested straw mattress and a single rickety wooden chair. Shebon was slumped over in the chair, a toppled wine glass at his feet, his eyes were open and alert but Grummok observed with pleasure that he was completely unable to move. Hek was huddled in one corner of the room his eyes round with fear, Grummok tossed the boy a small leather purse laden with gold and told him that he would have to stay here until Grummok was finished and then the gargoyle would smuggle him out of the brothel. 

Grummok lifted Shebon from his chair and placed him on the straw mattress he then produced a small black bag and began to remove all manner of fiendish blades and torture devices from its interior. Grummok held up each of his ghoulish instruments so that Shebon could get a good look at what awaited him. Grummok then removed his disguise so that Shebon could make no mistake about his slayer’s identity. Hek wailed in terror when Grummok revealed himself and the gargoyle hissed for the boy to be silent unless he wished to share Shebon’s fate. The boy frightened beyond measure, turned his back on the horrible scene about to unfold before him and tried to crawl deeper into the corner he occupied. 

Once Hek had been cowed, Grummok sat down in the room’s only chair, picked up Shebon’s wine goblet and methodically cleaned the glass of its former contents with a fine silk cloth. Once he was sure the glass contained no trace of the poison the gargoyle poured himself a measure of the thick red liquid from the decanter that had been left in the room. Grummok sipped the wine casually complimenting Shebon on his fine taste and then with a small grin cast in Hek’s direction began to tell Shebon in complete and grotesque detail just how he was about to die.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 17, 2003)

Here are the stats and a brief history of Shebon Mot, Grummok's former mentor. 

***************************************************

*Shebon Mot:* Male Drow Rogue 5/Assassin3/Disciple of Baalzebul 3; CR 12; Medium Humanoid; HD 11d6+11; hp 58; Init +4; Spd 30 ft.; AC 23 (+5 Dex, +6 chain shirt, +2 ring); Atk +13/+8 melee (1d4+3/19-20 x2, +3 fleshgrinding dagger) and +12 melee (1d4+2/19-20 x2, +2 dagger); SA sneak attack +6d6, death attack, poison use, suggestion; SQ Drow traits, darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked), tongue of the devil, evasion, SR 22; AL NE; SV Fort +6, Ref +17, Will +8; Str 13, Dex 20, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 12, Cha 14.
_Skills (136 pts):_ Bluff +17, Craft (poison making) +13, Diplomacy +12, Disguise +12, Escape Artist +15, Gather Information +12, Hide +15, Intimidate +10, Knowledge (religion) +9, Listen +13, Move Silently +15, Open Lock +15, Spot +15 Tumble +15
_Feats:_ Disciple of Darkness (Baalzebul), Two Weapon Fighting, Ambidexterity, Weapon Finesse (dagger)
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Infernal, Drow, Abyssal, Ignan
_Possessions:_ +3 fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, Mithral chain shirt +2, gloves of dexterity +2, boots of speed, ring of protection +2, cloak of resistance +2
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (2/1; save DC 13 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache. 2nd – alter self

*Drow Traits:* Shebon Mot is immune to magic sleep spells and effects. He has a +2 racial bonus on saves against Enchantment spells or effects and a +2 racial bonus on Will saves against spells or spell-like abilities. He also has darkvision (120-foot range) and is entitled to a Search check when within 5 feet of a secret or concealed door as though actively looking for it, but she also has light blindness (blinded for 1 round by abrupt exposure to bright light, -1 circumstance penalty on all attack rolls, saves, and checks while operating in bright light). Shebon Mot also has a +2 racial bonus on Listen, Spot, and Search checks (already figured into the statistics given above).

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Shebon Mot takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Shebon Mot studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Shebon Mot's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 16) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.
Poison Use: Shebon Mot is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

*Tongue of the Devil (Ex):* Shebon Mot can speak with eloquence and believability even when telling boldfaced lies, by using his cunning as well as his charm. When making Bluff checks, Shebon Mot adds his Intelligence modifier as well as his Charisma modifier to determine his check results.

*Suggestion (Sp):* Once per day Shebon Mot can produce an effect identical to that of a suggestion spell. The DC to resist Shebon Mot’s entreaties is 14.

Shebon Mot, once known as Shebon Tormtor, is another noble cast off eking out a living in the chaos of Erelhei-Cinlu. The young drow had a talent for telling grandiose lies that were somehow believable and this skill kept him alive when he was exiled from house Tormtor. The Circumstances of Shebon’s exile are unknown but his crime was grave enough that his entire house refuses to speak of it. 

Shebon survived the lean year after his exile through thievery; he was a gifted cutpurse and cat burglar with a sadistic streak that often cost the victims of his predations much more than their purses. A failed robbery attempt catapulted Shebon from thief to assassin when he tried to lift the purse of a drow noble in the Ghetto of Artisan’s. Jen Kedar Everhate was impressed with Shebon’s boldness and instead of simply killing the rash young cutpurse he offered him a chance for wealth and power. Shebon, who had few other prospects, gladly accepted Jen Kedar’s offer and began his career as an assassin.

Shebon served Jen Kedar faithfully for years, fulfilling contracts with alacrity and complete professionalism. The young drow assassin became wealthy and soon his prestige in the guild was shadowed only by Jen Kedar himself. Shebon had always been a graceful liar and an expert conman, and few could match his eloquence, because of this he was often able to lure a mark into a vulnerable sense of security with his flattering speech and charming grace. Shebon enjoyed killing to a degree that went far beyond his peers and his sadistic nature ensured a slow and painful death to his victims. Jen Kedar paid no mind to Shebon’s penchant for bloodletting for he had always remained careful and professional, but that would soon change.   

Shebon’s sadistic nature was symptomatic of a dark secret he had carried for years. Shebon was a devout follower of the arch-devil Baalzebul the Prince of Lies. As a young assassin his sadistic debauchery had caught the attention of a small group of cultists that had been operating in Erelhei-Cinlu for decades. The cultists knew that Shebon’s influence in the assassin’s guild could be invaluable, for the cult had many enemies in a city the prohibited worship of their infernal lord. The cult discreetly contacted Shebon and offered him the patronage of their unholy master, provided he could prove his devotion. Shebon, intrigued by the mystery and decadence of the cult hungered for the power promised by its members and pledged his devotion to Baalzebul. 

After decades as one of the cities top assassins, Shebon became arrogant and careless and this eventually led to his destruction. Jen Kedar had learned of Shebon’s infernal patron and fearing the vengeance of the clerics of Lolth and the problems they could cause for the guild, ordered his death. Shebon met his fate at the hands of his former apprentice, the gargoyle Grummok. The sadistic assassin’s death was not an easy one, Shebon suffered under Grummok’s ministrations for hours before he finally surrendered his soul to the void. With Shebon’s demise his slayer, Grummok, stepped into his vacant position and began to grow in power just as Shebon did. Grummok, however, may have his hands full in the future for Shebon’s allies in the cult of Baalezabul will certainly not let his slayer go unpunished.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 18, 2003)

*Grummok (age 46):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn3; CR 11; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+7d6+66; hp 118; Init +8; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (good); AC 25 (+4 Dex, +4 natural, +5 studded leather armor, +2 ring); Atk +15 melee (1d4+6, 2 claws), +11 melee (1d6+2, bite), +11 melee (1d6+2 gore) or +14/+9 melee (1d4+7/19-20 x2, _+3 fleshgrinding dagger_); SA sneak attack +4d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked), DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +13, Ref +15, Will +5; Str 18, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 12.
_Skills (84 pts):_ Bluff +6, Craft (poison making) +7, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +10, Gather Information +8, Hide +27, Intimidate +5, Listen +10, Move Silently +22, Open Lock +10, Spot +10, Tumble +5.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative 
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ +2 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of magic fang +2, belt of giant strength +4, +3 fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, ring of protection +2
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (2/1; save DC 12 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache. 2nd – alter self

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 15) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

The death of Shebon Mot placed Grummok in a precarious position, his reputation and prestige within the guild continued to grow but he quickly learned that Shebon had had many allies that were displeased with the drow assassin’s sudden demise. The cult of Baalzebul, of which Shebon Mot had been an influential member, had marked Grummok for death and the attempts on the gargoyles life began soon after Shebon’s assassination.. 

Jen Kedar Everhate warned Grummok about Shebon Mot’s involvement with the dire following of Baalzabul and bade him to be extremely careful. Grummok saw little reason to worry, thinking his position in the guild would shield him from most attacks and he felt more than capable of dealing with individual cultists in direct combat if need be. Un-phazed by the possible threat to his life, Grummok accepted and completed every contract that was sent his way. From competing nobles to rival merchants, the gargoyle killed indiscriminately and quickly established a reputation for professionalism and discreetness.
Grummok’s first encounter with the cult of Baalzebul occurred three weeks after the death of Shebon Mot. Grummok had been performing a job for some duergar weapon merchants and had been staking out a drow sword maker, who was undercutting the duergar’s prices. The merchant owned a small house and storefront in the district of artisans and he and his small family ran a thriving business. The quality of the drow merchant’s blades was second to none and many of the duergar’s former customers had begun to buy their swords from him instead of paying more for a lower quality blade from the duergar. 

The hit was an easy one, the drow merchant had no idea that he had earned the enmity of the duergar weapon smiths, and there were no defenses installed in his small house to speak of. Grummok simply crept through the second story window of the drow merchant’s house and strangled him in his sleep. The duergar had been very specific in their instructions and had demanded the death of the drow sword maker’s family as well. Grummok of course fulfilled his contract to the letter and the drow’s wife and two sons went under the knife. 

With his grisly mission compete Grummok had stolen silently from the sword makers house and taken to the air, heading back to the assassins guild to report the fulfillment of his contract. Flushed with success the gargoyle let his mind wander while on the wing and his momentary slip in concentration nearly cost him his life. From out of the thick darkness that hung over the city of Erelhei-Cinlu the faint whisper of an arcane incantation drifted to the gargoyle’s keen ears. Startled from his reverie Grummok reacted almost too late as a lightning bolt flashed from the blackness and narrowly missed as the gargoyle performed a fantastic midair contortion to avoid the deadly bolt of energy. 

Singed but unhurt, Grummok frantically scanned the area for any sign of his attacker. The gargoyle’s assailant was either beyond the range of his darkvision or hiding with the use of magic. Grummok hovered in midair, presenting himself as an easy target and listening for any sound of further spellcasting. If the mage who had thrown the lightning bolt was wise he would not cast a spell with a verbal component and alert Grummok to his location, as it turned out he wasn’t. Again the flowing tongue of the arcane drifted out of the darkness as the mage prepared to throw another spell at Grummok. The gargoyle wasted no time and plunged ahead, homing in on the sound of the spellcaster’s voice. Another lightning bolt lanced out at the gargoyle, but this time he was prepared for it and gracefully rolled his body out of the way avoiding the bolt easily. 

Now the mage had not only betrayed his position with his voice but the last lightning bolt he had cast confirmed his location visually as well. Grummok perceived the invisible mage as a faint shimmering in the air below him about one hundred feet from his current position and the gargoyle screeched a challenge and dove at the now vulnerable mage. In the midst of his dive, Grummok pulled an enchanted dagger from a hidden sheath built into his armor. The dagger once belonged to Shebon Mot, Grummok’s former mentor, and when the gargoyle slew him he claimed it for himself. The dagger was a vicious weapon imbued with a special power called flesh grinding which allowed it to remain in the flesh of a victim and burrow or “grind” further into the wound without its wielder having to lift a finger. Grummok had also poisoned the blade with a nasty substance of his own creation called “breath stealer”, the virulent poison attacked the lungs of a victim destroying the tiny air sacks in the organ and ensuring a slow death by suffocation. 

As Grummok descended on the invisible mage, the spellcaster attempted to cast another spell at the onrushing gargoyle, but the first words of the incantation had barely left his lips before Grummok slammed into him claws and dagger flailing. The mages invisibility saved him from much of Grummok’s tearing teeth and claws but the enchanted dagger found its mark and the mage howled in pain as the blade began to dig into his flesh. Grummok fell back and circled the stricken mage as he cursed and screamed, until finally the screams became frantic gasps for air as the terrible poison went to work on the mages lungs. The mage’s death was not a pleasant one, as the fleshgrinder burrowed into his abdomen and the “breath stealer” poison seared his lungs into useless lumps of flesh. With his death, the mage’s spells failed and he became visible, his corpse falling towards the city below. 

Grummok followed the descending corpse, which crashed in a broken heap on the roof of one of the many buildings that lined the streets of the Ghetto of Artisans. Grummok landed softly beside the slain wizard and began a thorough search of the corpse. The wizard had been a half-drow, made obvious by the grayish cast to his skin and human coloration of his hair. He was dressed in thick red robes, unadorned but finely made. Around his neck hung a curious medallion on a silver chain; a gold circle with the etched impression of a fly’s head in astonishing detail. Grummok recognized the symbol immediately; it was a representation of Baalzebul in his guise as Lord of the Flies. It seemed that Shebon’s allies had attempted to avenge their slain brother at last. Well, Grummok thought, they would certainly have to do better than this if they expected to slay him. Still, caution would be the best policy and Grummok resigned himself to watching his back more carefully until he could deal with the threat of the cultists on a larger scale.

The weeks that followed the failed attempt on Grummok’s life saw the gargoyle take and complete three more contracts. The cultists of Baalzebul left Grummok unmolested during this time but he kept a wary eye out for the devotees of the arch-devil. Grummok bent his efforts over the next six months to discovering all he could about Baalzebul and his worship; he also scoured the city through the guilds huge network of spies and informants for the whereabouts of individual cultists. Soon he had a list of over a dozen names and locations of persons believed to be worshipers of the arch-devil Baalzebul. Then, after consulting with his guild master, Jen Kedar, Grummok prepared to do a little freelance work. He would show his would be murderers what a real assassin was capable of, their infernal patron be damned.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 22, 2003)

Sorry for the delay in posting, this installment has gotten kind of long. I have posted the first half of it here and will post the next half tomorrow. 

Dirge

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Weapon Master Blues: Part I

*Grummok (age 62)*: Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn4; CR 12; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+8d6+72; hp 126; Init +8; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (good); AC 25 (+4 Dex, +4 natural, +5 studded leather armor, +2 ring); Atk +16 melee (1d4+6/19-20 x2, 2 claws), +12 melee (1d6+2, bite), +12 melee (1d6+2 gore) or +17/+12 melee (1d4+7/19-20 x2, _+3 fleshgrinding dagger_); SA sneak attack +4d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge, +2 saves vs. poison (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked), DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +14, Ref +16, Will +6; Str 18, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 12.
_Skills (90 pts):_ Bluff +6, Craft (poison making) +8, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +10, Gather Information +8, Hide +27, Intimidate +5, Listen +10, Move Silently +22, Open Lock +10, Search +9, Spot +10, Tumble +5.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative, Improved Critical (claws)   
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ +2 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of magic fang +2, belt of giant strength +4, +3 fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, ring of protection +2, head band of intellect +2
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (2/2; save DC 13 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache. 2nd – alter self, darkness

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 17) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

Grummok has begun his own personal Jihad on the followers of Baalzebul. With the blessing of his guild master, and through him the reigning clergy of Lolth, the gargoyle assassin has hunted and slain over half a dozen cultists. The followers of the archfiend could not, of course, retaliate openly as their faith is strictly forbidden in the drow city of Erelhei-Cinlu. This fact coupled with the blessing of the clergy of Lolth has allowed Grummok to operate completely unhindered. 

Aided by a list of names and locations of suspected worshipers of Baalzebul, Grummok has been able to systematically track down and slay individual members of the cult with ease. The gargoyle found that most of the cult members were relatively weak individuals frantically scrabbling to increase their power and station. Grummok made short work of these ineffectual buffoons. 

Between his hunts for followers of the archfiend, Grummok has continued to take assignments and his contracts have become much more profitable and consequentially much more dangerous. It was on the eve of Grummok's 61st name day that he received his most prestigious and dangerous contract yet. The clergy of Lolth were very displeased with the actions of Azakai Tormtor, weapon master of the ruling house of Erelhei-Cinlu. The clergy would not reveal the reason for their ire but it must have been grave indeed for they had requested the services of Jen Kedar himself. The guild-master politely declined their offer but offered the services of one of his best and most discreet agents, Grummok. 

The weapon master was not unknown to Grummok; a chance encounter with the skilled drow fighter over thirty years ago had resulted in the death of Kormok, one of Grummok’s brood mates. Grummok remembered that night distinctly, the drow weapon master had moved with almost supernatural speed and precision even when surrounded by Grummok and his two brothers. Kormok had been slain within seconds while Grummok’s older sibling, Bremok was knocked senseless and left for dead. Grummok had fled that night and by chance his brother Bremok had survived as well, it was a painful lesson for the fledgling gargoyles, as they learned all at once that Erelhei-Cinlu held creatures far more dangerous than themselves. 

Grummok relished the idea of killing Azakai but he knew that the drow would likely best him in a direct confrontation; Grummok would need outside assistance if he were to have any chance of slaying the dangerous weapon master. The gargoyle assassin had on occasion used the considerable fortune he had attained to hire extra muscle for particularly dangerous contracts. Years ago Grummok had made the acquaintance of a bugbear mercenary who ran a small gang of thugs and cutthroats out of the Ghetto of Outsiders. The bugbear, one Thagmot, was a prime example of the vicious humanoids that dwelled within the Ghetto of Outsiders looking for any excuse to vent their aggression and make a few coins in the process. For the princely sum of five thousand gold pieces Thagmot was more than willing to lend his and his men’s assistance to the gargoyle’s assassination attempt on the formidable Azakai Tormtor.

Grummok began to monitor Azakai’s movements throughout the city and found that the weapon master was quite the drunkard. When not training the troops of house Tormtor’s personal guard he could be found in the Ghetto of Foreigners swilling cheap wine and wenching with a recklessness that bordered on suicidal. The prodigious amount of drink consumed by the drow elf seemed in no way to hinder his fighting prowess as Grummok and his brothers had learned to their detriment that fateful night so many years ago. Azakai would often walk the streets in a besotted stupor after a night of drink and revelry, lurching out into the dangerous city blissfully confident that his blade and his reputation would turn away any would be attackers. Grummok planned to make one of Azakai’s drunken walks much more interesting and hopefully fatal.

Thagmot met Grummok on the night the assassination was to take place in a familiar alley off the Street of lies in the Ghetto of Foreigners. The bugbear had brought three of his best fighters, a trio of orcs that had served him well in the past. Grummok instructed the bugbear and his men to enter the inn where Azakai was currently slaking his thirst and start a confrontation with the weapon master. Thagmot balked at challenging the fearsome drow fighter alone, but Grummok assured him that as soon as the fight began he would enter the fray and the five of them would make short work of the drunken weapon master. Thagmot was mollified with the explanation and agreed to Grummok’s plan ordering his men to follow him as he walked from the alley and towards the bustling inn. Grummok allowed himself a vicious little smile of satisfaction as he watched the massive bugbear march off to what would likely be his death.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 24, 2003)

As promised here is the second half of Tuesday's post. I will post stats and histories for Azakai Tormtor and poor old Thagmot in the next post.

Dirge

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Weapon Master Blues, Part II

The inn of the Blighted Behir was arguably the worst inn in the entire city of Erelhei-Cinlu, a dangerous, filthy den of cutthroats and murderers it served cheap wine by the gallon and often as not served many patrons their very last drink, period. Azakai Tormtor had been frequenting the vile establishment for years and was well known by its owner and proprietor Vilshank, a degenerate svirfneblin rogue who had obtained the inn in a game of dice. The drow of the city avoided the Blighted Behir like the plague and Azakai was certainly the only drow of noble birth ever to darken its doorway. Fights were common and Vilshank employed a pair of ogre mercenaries to keep the peace or just to dump the bodies of the slain, after they were thoroughly looted, into the trash pile. 

The inn’s patrons had learned long ago, after the quick and brutal death of more than a few of them, that when the drow weapon master was in his cups he was best left alone. Only Vilshank and the numerous whores he employed even dared speak to Azakai and even they did so only when absolutely necessary. Grummok, of course knew all of this and he also knew that Thagmot and his men were quite simply marching off to their deaths. The gargoyle assassin just needed the doomed bugbear to create a slight diversion to focus Azakai’s attention elsewhere while he moved into position. 

Grummok did not have to wait long for Thagmot and his men to stir up trouble, mere minutes after they had entered the Blighted Behir the tell tale sounds of combat erupted from the ramshackle inn. In response to the noise Grummok pulled a small potion vial from his belt and quickly drank down its contents, seconds later the gargoyles outline became hazy and then he disappeared all together. Cloaked by magical invisibility Grummok crept silently to the front of the inn. The main door of the Blighted Behir stood open and a murky swath of light fell out into the street a single beacon of brightness in the otherwise lightless city. Grummok slid up to the doorway and peered through, he saw what he had expected to see; Thagmot and his men fighting for their lives against the drunken fury of Azakai and his saber. 

The inn’s common room was a simple affair, box shaped with the ancient battered bar in the south end of the room and a number of rickety tables and chairs strewn haphazardly across the filthy slat wooden floor. The inn’s other patrons had arranged the tables and chairs to form a circle some thirty feet in diameter in the center of the inn. It was here in this makeshift arena that Thagmot and his men battled the drow weapon master. Drinks in hand the denizens of the Blighted Behir stood just beyond the raging battle casually conversing and placing bets on the outcome of the confrontation. Thagmot and his men were serious underdogs at 7 to 1. 

The battle could best be described as four men attempting to weather a hurricane with nothing but an umbrella and a prayer. One of the orcs was already down and bleeding while the other two flanked Thagmot as he frantically attempted to hold the drow elf at bay with his halberd. Azakai moved with almost godlike speed and agility, his silvery saber was a constantly moving blur and he drew blood at will. As Grummok moved closer the drow weapon master tumbled beneath a clumsy sweeping blow of Thagmot’s halberd and came up slashing at the orc to the right of the bugbear. The orc tried in vain to bring his shield up to deflect the cut but was far too slow and Azakai’s blade drew a crimson line across his face, slicing the orc’s nose and both his lips neatly in half. The maimed orc dropped his weapon and shield to clutch at the ruins of his face leaving himself open for Azakai’s next slash, a vicious rising cut that opened the orc up from groin to sternum. Even as the orc slumped to the floor the weapon master was whirling, bringing his blade to bear on Thagmot. 

The remaining orc wanted no part of the deadly drow elf and abandoned Thagmot to his fate, dropping his weapon and fleeing through the crowd of spectators and out the main door. Grummok had to admire Thagmot just then for the bugbear stood his ground knowing he was outclassed in every way. Azakai came on like an avalanche, his saber seeming to strike at Thagmot from every possible direction ringing off the bugbears halberd or cutting into his flesh when he missed a parry. Thagmot was weakening quickly under the onslaught and would not last much longer; fortunately he had given Grummok the time he needed to make his move.

As the battle raged Grummok had crept up silent and invisible to the edge of the makeshift ring where the combat was taking place. His keen assassin’s eyes had never left Azakai, hungrily tracing his every movement, noting every minute detail in his stride, his fighting style even the way his armor hung on his body. The weapon master had flung his cloak off before the melee had begun and wore only his fine suit of drow chainmail; he carried a small Mithral buckler in his left hand while his right cradled his deadly saber. Grummok knew that drow chainmail, especially of the quality worn by Azakai, could turn even the most determined blade, but this fact would not come into play for the weapon master’s judgment had been dulled by drink and his helm lay forgotten on the floor. Silent as the void Grummok drew his fiendish fleshgrinding dagger from its sheath and moved into position completely unnoticed by the raging weapon master.

Thagmot was tiring quickly but he summoned what was left of his strength and brought his halberd over his head in a massive overhand blow that surely would have sheared Azakai in half had it landed. With what seemed an almost casual grace the weapon master cleanly sidestepped Thagmot’s powerful strike, letting the halberd hammer down into the floorboards to become lodged in the splintered wood. Off balance and vulnerable Thagmot could do nothing but watch as Azakai slid past his guard to deliver the killing blow. As Azakai stepped up to the doomed bugbear to finish him he witnessed Thagmot’s eyes suddenly grow wide with surprise, not from his impending death but from the sudden appearance of something over Azakai’s left shoulder. Alarm screaming through his drink numbed mind the weapon master whirled about, Thagmot completely forgotten, to stare into the horrendous visage of Grummok. 

Grummok gave the weapon master no time to react and simply stepped forward and stabbed the drow cleanly through his red rimmed left eye, killing him almost instantly. Azakai’s body convulsed and his saber and buckler clattered to the ground. Grummok caught the weapon master before his body hit the floor and then with nary a glance at the stunned crowd of onlookers threw the corpse over his shoulder and sauntered out of the Blighted Behir. 

A hundred yards from the inn Grummok heard the crowd come out of its stupor as the inn’s patrons unleashed their fury for being cheated out of their bets. Grummok figured Thagmot would likely bear the brunt of that hostility, but no matter, he had served his purpose. Pleased with himself and at the fulfillment of another contract, Grummok took to the air with his prize and winged off towards the guild house to collect his well-earned reward.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Jan 27, 2003)

Here are the stats and the tragic tale of Azakai Tormtor, former weapon master of house Tormtor and Grummok's latest victim.

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*Azakai Tormtor:* Male Drow Rog5/Ftr8; CR 14; Medium Humanoid; HD 5d6+8d10+13; hp 92; Init +5; Spd 30 ft.; AC 31 (+7 Dex, +8 chainmail, +4 buckler, +2 ring); Atk +22/+17/+12 melee (1d8+7/15-20 x2, +3 keen wounding drow bane saber); SA sneak attack +3d6, death attack; SQ Drow traits, darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC), evasion, SR 24; AL N; SV Fort +10, Ref +13, Will +6; Str 14, Dex 24, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 13, Cha 14.
Skills (112 pts): Bluff +12, Climb +14, Hide +17, Intimidate +10, Jump +14, Listen +11, Move Silently +27, Search +14, Spot +11, Tumble +19
_Feats:_ Weapon Focus (saber), Weapon Finesse (saber), Weapon Specialization (saber), Quick Draw, Flick of the Wrist, Expertise, Improved Disarm, Dash, Improved Critical (saber), Combat Reflexes
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Drow, Abyssal, Gnome
_Possessions:_ Bitterbite (+3 keen wounding drow bane saber)*, +3 elven chain of silent moves, +3 mithral buckler, +4 gloves of dexterity, cloak of resistance +2, ring of minor elemental protection (fire), ring of protection +2

*Drow Traits:* Azakai Tormtor is immune to magic sleep spells and effects. He has a +2 racial bonus on saves against Enchantment spells or effects and a +2 racial bonus on Will saves against spells or spell-like abilities. He also has darkvision (120-foot range) and is entitled to a Search check when within 5 feet of a secret or concealed door as though actively looking for it, but she also has light blindness (blinded for 1 round by abrupt exposure to bright light, -1 circumstance penalty on all attack rolls, saves, and checks while operating in bright light). Azakai Tormtor also has a +2 racial bonus on Listen, Spot, and Search checks (already figured into the statistics given above).

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Azakai Tormtor takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

Azakai Tormtor was the eldest son of Matron Verdaeth Tormtor, and served his mother ably as house weapon master. His skill with a blade was unmatched by any warrior in the remaining seven noble families and his death was seen as a blessing from Lolth by his many rivals. In fact it truly was Lolth herself who demanded the life of Azakai Tormtor for he had committed a sin completely abhorrent to the vicious spider queen, he had shown kindness and mercy.

Azakai’s debauchery was well documented and his exploits with various noble drow women were the subject of much gossip and jealousy. But the drow weapon master did not reserve his affections for those of noble birth alone and many beautiful commoners found themselves the subject of Azakai’s lust as well. It was one of these low born women that led to the weapon master’s descent in to addiction and eventually his demise.

Threnessa Harrowheart was the daughter of a successful sword merchant in the Ghetto of Artisan’s, her beauty was breathtaking and her heart was unspoiled by the darkness and despair of the terrible city of Erelhei Cinlu. Azakai first caught sight of the stunning young drow elf when browsing the weapon smith’s stalls in the bazaar. He was instantly smitten and the two began a passionate love affair. Azakai visited Threnessa whenever he could and soon she was the only woman in his life and he was happier than he had ever been.

Threnessa had an outlook on life that Azakai found intriguing, she was not driven by ambition or station and seemed to enjoy helping the less fortunate around her. Azakai had been taught from birth that mercy and kindness were hallmarks of the weak and that any drow displaying these traits deserved nothing more than disgust and death. But despite this the battle hardened weapon master found himself inexplicably drawn to Threnessa’s guileless charm and open generosity and soon Azakai’s own, rather bleak, outlook began to change. When Threnessa told Azakai that she had conceived a child by him he was overjoyed and vowed that once the child was born that he and Threnessa would leave Erelhei-Cinlu and raise the infant away from the corruption and evil of the drow city.

Unfortunately Azakai’s hopeful future was not to be. His mother the vindictive Verdaeth Tormtor, matron of house Tormtor had learned of her sons transgressions with the low born Threnessa Harrowheart. Enraged, the drow matron ordered the death of the Threnessa and her family. The death sentence was carried out through a group of Duergar arms dealers who masked the matron mother’s machinations with fabricated reasons of their own. The duergar contacted the feared Jen Kedar Everhate, guild master of assassins, and contracted for the Threnessa’s and her family’s death on the grounds that her father, a successful sword merchant was biting into their profits.

Jen Kedar chose one of his best, the gargoyle Grummok, to carry out the contract and within three days Threnessa along with her family and her unborn child were dead. Azakai learned of his lover’s death the next day and flew into a berserk rage, slaying the unfortunate drow servant who had been forced to deliver the news. When he had calmed his mother, Verdaeth warned him that Lolth was very displeased with his actions and that if he wanted to avoid a gruesome death on the sacrificial altar he had best behave in the fashion a drow noble was expected to. With no outlet to vent his grief the heart broken Azakai turned to the numbing comfort of drink and soon there was little in his life that mattered beyond the bottle.

Over the years that followed Azakai began a rapid descent into drunken uselessness and quickly became an embarrassment to his mother and his house. Lolth knew that Azakai still harbored grief and love for his lost Threnessa and she demanded the death of the broken weapon master. Verdaeth Tormtor turned once again to Jen Kedar Everhate to carry out the will of Lolth and Grummok, now his best assassin was assigned to facilitate Azakai’s demise. On that fateful night in the Blighted Behir as Azakai turned to face Grummok he knew that he looked into the eyes of his Threnessa’s murderer and just before the assassin’s blade plunged into his flesh he hoped that at least in death he might be able to see his love once more before Lolth claimed his soul.

Moments after of his death, as Azakai’s soul spiraled into the void he could feel the looming presence of the Lolth hungrily awaiting to consume him, but the life of the former weapon master had been monitored by beings other than the loathsome spider queen. With a blinding flash of light Azakai’s soul was suddenly snatched away from the slavering maw of Lolth and he suddenly found himself in a clear forest glade with a star filled sky stretching overhead. There were two drow women in the glade with him, one was a vision so lovely that he could scarcely stand to look at her and the other was Threnessa.

Azakai sank to his knees his eyes pleading for an explanation and the first drow women spoke to him in a voice that resounded with mercy and power. She was incredibly tall and clad only in her own white silken locks, she carried a naked bastard sword and her eyes were filled with sympathy. She explained that he was in Arborea the ancestral home of the elves and that she was Eliastree the goddess of drow who had turned away from Lolth. The goddess had taken an interest in the two doomed lovers long ago and refused see them denied the happiness they so justly deserved.  Weeping with grief and fear, Azakai begged Eliastree to torment him no longer, thinking this was only a cruel illusion concocted by Lolth. Her eyes brimming with pity Eliastree bent down to the grieving weapon master and lightly kissed his forehead. Azakai’s mind suddenly cleared and his sorrow melted away, the power of the goddess had instantly conveyed her truth to his mind. Azakai rose to his feet and walked the short space to his love who awaited him with open arms and the promise of 
eternity.

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*_Bitterbite, +3 keen wounding drow bane saber_: The feared saber of the former weapon master Azakai Tormtor has a long an ugly history. Forged by the surface elves to combat their dark skinned brethren long ago when Lolth and her followers first seceded from the Seldarine, it has changed hands many times in the millennia that followed.  The blade is attuned to elvish blood and functions only as a simple +1 saber for any non elf, surprisingly the saber allows drow elves access to all of its powers just as it would a surface elf. Bitterbite is a thing of lethal beauty, its adamantine blade is long and gracefully curved and has been shined to a mirror sheen catching the tiniest fraction of illumination to glow like a firebrand when it is unsheathed. The hilt of the weapon is rather plain featuring a full basket hilt of plain adamantine with its only adornment, a large black gem in the weapon’s pommel. 

Bitterbite was created to combat drow and to that end has been enchanted to wreak havoc on the dark skinned elves. In the wars that saw Lolth banished from the court of the elves the blade took many drow lives and was wielded by the legendary elf hero Kinthanin Lenathane. After Kinthanin’s death the saber was passed on to his sons and handed down through the generations to the first born son of the Lenethane family line. Bitterbite made its way into the underdark during a daring raid on Erelhei-Cinlu by a band of brave and foolish elven adventurers led by its then wielder the rash and chaotic Jivendex Lenethane. Jivendex and his men were captured, tortured and slain and Bitterbite was claimed by house Tormtor and eventually gifted to the house weapon master Azakai. 

Azakai Tormtor made quite a name for himself with Bitterbite, slaying many rivals with its silvery blade. When the weapon master was slain in the chaotic battle at the Blighted Behir the priceless saber was left where it had fallen after Azakai met his end at the hands of Grummok, a gargoyle assassin. The blade was claimed by the bugbear mercenary Thagmot who had been working with Grummok and nearly lost his life in the battle with Azakai and the ensuing bedlam that followed the weapon master's demise. Thagmot managed to escape the throngs of infuriated gamblers who had been placing bets on the battle between the bugbear and the drow weapon master and were less than pleased when Grummok slew Azakai from the cover of an invisibility spell. 

Bitterbite’s fate is uncertain for Thagmot can not fully use the blade and will likely sell it to the highest bidder. But regardless of who wields the saber it is certain the Bitterbite will continue to fulfill its purpose in the evil and tumultuous drow city of Erelehei-Cinlu.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 1, 2003)

Sorry for the delay on updates on Grummok, but I wasn't quite sure where i wanted to take the story. I think I chose the right direction, I love reintroducing old characters. Hope you like it.

Dirge

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*Grummok (age 70):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn5; CR 13; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+9d6+78; hp 136; Init +8; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (good); AC 27 (+6 Dex, +4 natural, +5 studded leather armor, +2 ring); Atk +18 melee (1d4+6/19-20 x2, 2 claws), +14 melee (1d6+2, bite), +14 melee (1d6+2 gore) or +17/+12 melee (1d4+7/19-20 x2, +3 fleshgrinding dagger); SA sneak attack +5d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked, +1 vs. traps), +2 saves vs. poison, DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +14, Ref +16, Will +6; Str 18, Dex 22, Con 22, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 12.

_Skills (97 pts):_ Bluff +6, Craft (poison making) +8, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +12, Gather Information +10, Hide +29, Intimidate +5, Listen +10, Move Silently +24, Open Lock +12, Search +10, Spot +10, Tumble +12.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative, Improved Critical (claws)   
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ +2 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of magic fang +2, belt of giant strength +4, +3 fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, ring of protection +2, head band of intellect +2, gloves of dexterity +4, ring of minor elemental protection (fire)
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (2/2/1; save DC 13 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache. 2nd – alter self, darkness. 3rd -- invisibility

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 18) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

Grummok has hunted and slain every member of the cult of Baalzebul he could find. None of the secretive society’s pathetic members offered him any challenge, which has led him to believe that Shebon Mot, his former mentor, must have been their leader. With his thirst for vengeance slaked at last Grummok has turned his attention to other pursuits, now a veteran assassin Grummok must perform the duties assigned to every guild member that reaches the gargoyle’s status, he must find and recruit an appropriate apprentice. The gargoyle was less than pleased with this mandate, having no interest in improving the station of anyone but himself, but he was left with little choice. 

Grummok began his search for an apprentice in the Ghetto of Outcasts, thinking the desperate population of that district might offer him what he was looking for. Disguising his form with magic Grummok entered the ghetto under the guise of a drow noble with the hope that his apparent wealth might draw out a likely candidate. Strolling casually through the main thoroughfare, Grummok dangled a large purse laden with gold coins on his belt and his disguise masked his weapons and armor. The gargoyle did not have to wait long before his apparent wealth and vulnerability attracted a motley group of humans and other humanoid refuse who assembled en masse to make the most of this rare opportunity. The group was seething with menace but they were all cowards at heart and none of them wished to initiate the conflict, all save one. 

A tall bearded human clad in a patchwork suit of leather armor shouldered his way through the throng of beggars and thieves, his eyes were full of malice and he gripped a short bladed throwing dagger in his left hand. The man was strangely familiar to Grummok and if he had seen the man before, long ago.  “What are you fools waiting for!” the bearded man shouted. He was now standing in front of the throng of cast offs and with snarl of disgust turned and hurled his dagger in one smooth motion at Grummok

Grummok made no move to avoid the missile, letting his disguise drop at the last possible instant to allow the gathered group of would be marauders a good look at his terrifying natural form. The dagger thudded off of Grummok's skin, leaving no mark on the gargoyles stony integument and clattered harmlessly to the ground. The manifestation of Grummok’s true from sent a ripple of fear through the crowd and they shrank back from the gargoyle’s malevolent glare. The bearded man, however, displayed more than fear, his face went pale and his features twisted into a rictus mask of absolute horror. “You…!” he gasped, eyes wide with surprise and terror. A flash of instant recognition crashed into Grummok’s brain as the bearded man fought his way through the crowd, frantically trying to escape. 

The crowd that had assembled to rob and murder a lone drow noble wanted no part of a gargoyle assassin and rapidly dispersed, its members fleeing in all directions. Grummok paid no heed to the deteriorating mob and vaulted into the air after the bearded man who was racing down the street away from him. The gargoyle caught up with his quarry quickly and circled overhead, while the bearded man let out a howl of terror and ducked into the remains of a crumbling building. Grummok landed in the street before the structure in which the bearded man had sought refuge and drawing his dagger, cautiously crept inside the ruined building.

Grummok’s first step into the bearded man’s hiding place was instantly met with a hurled dagger from the concealing darkness. The gargoyle’s keenly honed senses warned him of the danger well before the dagger reached him and he casually slapped away the missile with one spade clawed hand. “That was a good cast, Hek” Grummok spoke into the still silence. “You would have had any lesser creature dead to rights with that toss.” Grummok moved further into the building listening intently for any sign of his quarry. The building was once a single story residence that had been abandoned years ago, the front room had a single hallway that led to what Grummok guessed were bedrooms and possibly a larder and kitchen. Hek was likely hiding behind one of the warped doors that lined the narrow hallway.

“You’ve learned a lot since last we met, Hek” Grummok called out, moving to the edge of the hallway. “I must say that I am quite impressed that you managed to survive this long. I mean, a young boy alone in a city like this is hardly a candidate for lasting health.” 

“Leave me alone!” a hoarse voice echoed back to Grummok through the silence. The voice came from behind the last door to the right at the end of the hallway; the door was off its hinges and hung drunkenly to one side. Grummok moved silently to the doorway and peered through. The room was plain, windowless and contained nothing but Hek, poor disheveled Hek, huddling in one corner a dagger held out before him.

“Come now, Hek. I am not here to harm you. I want to help you.” Grummok said softly from the doorway, his voice dripping with sympathy. 

“I don’t want your help! I saw what you did to Shebon.” Hek screamed, tears running down his face as the terrible boyhood memory resurfaced. “You ate him, while he was still…still alive.” The last part came out in a horrified whisper.

Grummok had moved to within a few paces of the cowering human, his dagger sheathed and his hands held out wide before him. “Shebon got what he deserved, boy. How can you shed any tears for that bastard after all he did to you? The pain he endured was miniscule compared to what you suffered.” The gargoyle had sunk down on his haunches and was edging closer one hand held out beckoning before him like a beast tamer attempting to pacify a recalcitrant animal. 

“I …I can remember” Hek muttered. “He hurt me over and over, until you came. I thought you were going to take me with you when…when you were done.” Hek turned his tear stained face up to Grummok a frantic plea etched across his beaded face. The years had been remarkably kind to Hek, Grummok guessed that he must be close to forty but he looked like a man in the vigor of his mid twenties. Perhaps Hek had a trace of elven blood, Grummok mused.

“Hek, I am truly sorry” Grummok whispered soothingly his voice still thick with mimed sympathy. “I should have taken you with me, I though the gold I gave you would allow you to leave this hellish place and return to the surface, I had no idea you would remain in Erelhei-Cinlu.” Grummok was now sitting on the earthen floor directly in front of Hek, one taloned hand resting on the human’s shoulder. Hek was staring into Grummok’s eyes hoping against hope that the gargoyle spoke truth. “Hek, I see that you have become skilled with your daggers, and to survive so long alone you must have developed quite a few other talents as well. I want to take you away from here. I want to train you to be my apprentice.”

“Your apprentice?” Hek said. “You want me to be an assassin?” the disgust was obvious in Hek’s last statement, but still he did not shrink from the gargoyle’s touch and continued to listen.

“Yes, that’s right. I will teach you how to kill, and kill well. You will have the opportunity to strike out at all of the Shebon Mots of this wretched city, and you will grow rich and powerful in the process. Let me do this for you Hek, let me make amends for the wrongs you have so unjustly suffered. Please.” Grummok had him and he knew it. The gargoyle had judged his prey correctly; Hek wanted nothing more than to belong and to have a place to call his home, even if it was a simple cot at the assassin’s guildhall. Grummok had now secured himself the perfect apprentice simply because he was the only creature to ever show Hek any kindness, be it real or imagined, and for that Grummok had bought the human’s undying loyalty.  

There was no fight left Hek and he lowered his dagger and climbed wearily to his feet. “ I will come with you.” Hek’s voice shook with emotion, but Grummok could not tell if it was fear or gratitude that filled the humans words.

“Good. Thank you for letting me do this, Hek. I promise you will be well looked after under my care. You have my word.” With that Grummok smiled disarmingly and threw a scaly arm around the Hek’s shoulders leading him from his lonely life as a beggar and thief and into something far, far worse.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 3, 2003)

Here are the stats and the tragic history of Hek, Grummok's new apprentice.

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*Hek (age 37):* Male Human (quarter elven) Rog 8; CR 8; Medium Humanoid; HD 8d6+8; hp 42; Init +8; Spd 30 ft.; AC 16 (+3 Dex, +2 armor, +1 buckler); Atk +8/+3 melee (1d4+3/19-20 x2, +1 dagger) or +10/+5 ranged (1d4+3/19-20 x2, throwing dagger) SA sneak attack +4d6; SQ uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked), evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +3, Ref +9, Will +3; Str 14, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 13, Cha 11.

_Skills (123 pts):_ Bluff +11, Climb +12, Disable Device +13, Escape Artist +14, Hide +13, Intimidate +11, Listen +11, Move Silently +13, Open Lock +13, Search +13, Spot +11, Tumble +15.
_Feats:_ Quick Draw, Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Far Shot
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Drow, Orc, Common
_Possessions:_ 6 master work throwing daggers, leather armor, +1 dagger, buckler, ring of darkvision

The man now known as Hek was once an innocent boy from Hommlet by the name of Hekendel Oakheart. Hek’s parents were successful merchants that traded in rare spices and fabrics; they peddled their wares across the flanesse and were always on the lookout for new markets. After the fall of the Temple of Consumption one of the brave warriors who had thwarted the dread god Therizdun and his unthinkable machinations settled in the town of Hommlet and became good friends with Hek’s parents. The warrior, one Bytorn Nighthammer, found the sedentary lifestyle of Hommlet to be stifling and before too long he had decided to begin adventuring once again. Bytorn decided that his first stint as a born again adventurer would be to the underdark and would include a visit to the dreaded drow city of Erelhei-Cinlu. Bytorn hired a few mercenaries and then approached his new friends, the Oakhearts, and offered them the merchant’s chance of a lifetime. They would go, under heavy guard, to an area that was a completely untapped market for their wares for underdark denizens often had use of surface goods but rarely had a way to acquire them easily. The Oakhearts readily agreed to Bytorn’s offer and soon along with their teenage son were on their way to the uncharted depths of the underdark. 

The journey to the Vault of the Drow, the huge cavern that housed the city of Erelhei-Cinlu, was dangerous in the extreme but the combination of Bytorn’s adventuring skill and a little luck saw the merchant family and their guards reach the gates of the drow city virtually unscathed. The small band of surface dwellers was allowed entrance into the city after the exchange of a few coins and was directed to the bazaar where the Oakhearts quickly set up shop. Over the course of the following week the merchant family plied their wares with great success drawing even the noble families down from their gated manses to peruse the goods offered by the surface dwellers. 

All was going well until disaster struck in the guise of a spider-masked cleric of Lolth and her retinue of devoted sycophants. The priestess had been haggling over the price of a silk cape and had suddenly taken offense when Jendaria Oakheart, Hek’s mother, muttered a curse under her breath in elven regarding the penny-pinching ways of the obviously wealthy priestess. The drow elf’s keen ears had detected the slur and had also realized that the barb had been in the language of the surface elves, the ancient enemy of the drow. Jendaria had taken pains to hide her elven heritage, using both methods magical and mundane, but her slight breach in etiquette proved to be her family’s undoing. The drow priestess had without warning stepped back and mouthed an incantation, releasing a spell the negated all of Jendaria’s magical disguises, leaving her elven ancestry clear to all. 

Having exposed a half-elf in the midst of her Lolth dedicated city; the priestess ordered the death of Jendaria on the spot and her retinue of guards jumped to fulfil their mistress’s command. Bytorn and Kodar Oakheart, Hek’s father, along with Bytorn’s hired guards leapt to the defense of Jendaria but were cut down after a short and brutal battle. Jendaria was dragged away screaming her life destined to end upon the sacrificial slab in the Fane of Lolth. All of the Oakheart’s goods were confiscated and Hek was taken and sold into slavery, eventually ending up in the hellish brothel where Grummok had first encountered the boy.

At the brothel, Hek endured six months of the worst kinds of brutality imaginable mainly at the hand of Shebon Mot, the sadistic drow assassin. When Shebon was slain by the Grummok, the gargoyle bought Hek’s freedom from the brothel for his participation in Shebon Mot’s slaying. Grummok supplied Hek with a small amount of coin and an enchanted dagger, and then sent the boy on his way to make what life he could in the horrible drow city. Hek was drawn to the Ghetto of Outcasts almost immediately as it offered him ample bolt-holes in which to hide and in addition was one of the few places in the city that contained any noticeable amount of illumination due to its large population of surface dwellers. Hek was gifted with agility and intellect and these natural talents allowed him to survive where many others would have met a swift and painful death. Hek took to thieving naturally and soon had established a comfortable lair for himself in the Ghetto of Outcast furnished with stolen goods from all over the city. As Hek matured his success and was noticed by the other denizens of the ghetto and a conflict was inevitable. But the young human was up to the challenge and instead of slaying his rivals he bent them to his will and soon controlled a veritable army of beggars and thieves. 

In the years that followed Hek’s motley assortment of castoffs were starting to become an organized force and Hek had ambitions of making the Ghetto of Outcast a safe haven for the abused and mistreated of Erelhei-Cinlu. All of Hek’s grand designs were suddenly stamped out by the appearance of Grummok on his search for an apprentice. On first sight of the gargoyle all of the terrible memories, so long repressed, came screaming to the surface, his parents death, the pain he suffered at the brothel and finally the horrid death of Shebon Mot, which he was forced to watch. Hek could do nothing but flee in terror, but the human’s past would not be denied and Hek found himself leaving the ghetto of outcast, so long his home, to endure the tutelage of the vile assassin Grummok. Deprived of the stability of leadership Hek’s ragtag group of followers deteriorated into the hopeless group of individuals it had been before the human’s arrival and despair reined once again throughout the district.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 6, 2003)

*Grummok (age 75):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn6; CR 14; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+10d6+84; hp 147; Init +8; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (good); AC 28 (+6 Dex, +4 natural, +6 studded leather armor, +2 ring); Atk +19 melee (1d6+6/19-20 x2, 2 claws), +15 melee (1d6+2, bite), +15 melee (1d6+2 gore) or +18/+13/+8 melee (1d4+7/19-20 x2, +3 distance fleshgrinding dagger); SA sneak attack +5d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked, +1 vs. traps), +3 saves vs. poison, DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +14, Ref +16, Will +6; Str 18, Dex 22, Con 22, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 12.

_Skills (104 pts):_ Bluff +6, Craft (poison making) +8, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +12, Gather Information +10, Hide +29, Intimidate +5, Listen +10, Move Silently +24, Open Lock +12, Search +10, Sense Motive +8, Spot +10, Tumble +12.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative, Improved Critical (claws)   
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ +3 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of advanced magic fang +2*, belt of giant strength +4, +3 distance fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, ring of protection +2, head band of intellect +2, gloves of dexterity +4, ring of minor elemental protection (fire)
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (2/2/2; save DC 13 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache. 2nd – alter self, darkness. 3rd – invisibility, sadism

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 19) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

*_ring of advanced magic fang:_ These plain unadorned steel rings operate as the standard ring of magic fang by adding an enhancement bonus to attack and damage rolls, in addition the advanced form increases the base damage die by one.


Jen Kedar Everhate was more than a little shocked when Grummok dragged a bedraggled human man into the guildhall and announced that he had found a suitable apprentice. The human, a middle-aged specimen of the race, named Hek, appeared in now way to be “suitable” for anything other than scrounging among the collected refuse in the Ghetto of Outcasts. But Jen Kedar had learned to trust Grummok’s instincts, as they had served the gargoyle well in the past, and was intrigued to see what Grummok could make of the disheveled human. The guild master approved Grummok’s selection and made the necessary arrangements for Hek’s training and accommodations but only after he had delivered a stern warning to both master and apprentice concerning the price of failure; loss of prestige for Grummok and death for Hek.

Hek turned out to be a pleasant surprise for both Grummok and Jen Kedar, taking to the training with a will and surpassing the other apprentices with ease. The human’s keen intellect and natural agility allowed him to navigate the treacherous yearlong training that all fledgling assassins were required to undertake completely unscathed. Jealousy among the other apprentices was inevitable and Hek found himself the subject of frequent amateurish assassinations, all of which he avoided with diplomatic subtlety and skill. The assassination attempts suddenly ceased when the dismembered and half eaten corpse of Hek’s most obvious rival was found in his master’s chambers, an unmistakable warning from assassin to assassin. 

When his initial year was complete Hek was allowed to accompany Grummok on contracts and proved to be a useful and trustworthy ally on the gargoyle’s secretive missions. Hek obeyed Grummok’s every command to the letter and learned much in the way of stealth and murder. A genuine trust and even affection developed between Hek and Grummok as they learned to rely on each other’s skills and talents. Grummok was the only creature in the entire city who had shown Hek any kindness and the human felt a twisted bond of loyalty to his monstrous benefactor. Grummok’s trust was not granted so easily and it came only after Hek managed to rescue his master from a potentially lethal situation.

Six months after Hek and completed his initial training Grummok and his apprentice had been assigned to slay an upstart mage who refused to join the local mage guild and pay his respects to the guild master. The mage was a flamboyant fire genasi invoker named Vastinus Firecloak who made his home in the Ghetto of Artisans, ironically not more than a few blocks from the assassin’s guildhall. Grummok and Hek had carefully monitored Vastinus’s comings and goings and had learned that his ego and overblown confidence in his own abilities were so great that he kept no guards or even personal servants. 

Vastinus’s home was an opulent two-story affair that featured a tall wrought iron fence surrounding the entire property. Grummok and Hek had learned that the main gate that led to the house was trapped with a devious and deadly ward. Any who approached within one foot of the trapped gate and did not utter the pass phrase were targeted with a fiendish spell that reduced their bodies to nothing more than a small pile of loose ash. As deadly as the trap was it demonstrated the arrogance and ignorance of its creator, for he had done nothing to protect the air space over his demesne allowing Grummok to simply fly over the fence and the warded gate to easily gain access to Vastinus’s property. 

On the night that the assassination was to take place, Grummok took to wing and flew over Vastinus’s warded fence, carrying Hek, to land silently right outside the mage’s front door. The gargoyle then began to search the door and its jam for wards and traps. After a few moments Grummok was satisfied that the door was not trapped and was in fact only locked and motioned Hek forward to test his skills on the complicated locking mechanism. Hek had the door open in a matter of seconds, and with a smile and a grand flourish stepped aside to allow his master entrance into their mark’s house. Grummok motioned for Hek to stay put and then like a stalking shadow crept silently into the darkened house. 

Hek stood patiently outside Vastinus’s front door cloaked in the thick shadows that seemed to cling to everything in the dark city of Erelhei-Cinlu. He knew, from dozens of other missions, that his master was a quick and efficient killer and his sentry duty would likely be short. But after ten minutes had trickled by, Hek began to worry. Grummok usually had finished the deed long before now and the pair should already be on their way to the guild house to collect their bounty. Fear and a chill sense of alarm crept into Hek’s bones and he felt with utmost certainty that something was wrong. Hek decided that the longer he waited the more likely Grummok would not return at all, and he had no wish to face the treachery of the assassins guild without the protection of his gargoyle master. Fearing the worst, Hek palmed one of his throwing daggers and cautiously entered the silent house. 

The front door opened into a spacious foyer tiled with deep green marble and dominated by a huge spiral staircase that wound its way up into the silent darkness of the second story. A short hallway led off the foyer to the north and Hek could make out four doors evenly paced along the hallway’s length. The last door on the right caught Hek’s attention, for a soft glow of illumination protruded from under the jam and the barest of whisper of a voice drifted through the thin wood to Hek’s assassin trained hearing. Hek was unable to distinguish any comprehensible meaning from the voice so he moved silently down the hallway to stand in front of the impeding door, straining his ears to make words out of the muffled sound. 

“…the fools! I knew that simpering idiot, Madastrac, would try something like this.” The contempt and anger in the voice was audible even through the door and Hek could hear footsteps as if the speaker were pacing back and forth while delivering his tirade.

“I have no need of their pathetic little guild! I am Vastinus Firecloak! I pay tribute to no man and especially not to that fat flatulent toad of a sorcerer, Madastrac.” Vastinus paused for a moment allowing Hek to realize that the mage’s audience was likely Grummok, but why in the nine hells would the gargoyle sit and listen to this conceited oaf.

“And furthermore, now Madastrac has shown his true colors. The coward! Hiring an assassin instead of dealing with me personally.” The speaker paused again as if in thought and then continued with obvious mirth shining through his rant. “In fact, when I have finished with you my scaly friend I think I will make a little expedition over to the mage guild and rouse the impotent fool from the safety of his guild hall. Hah! How I would dearly to love to see that overstuffed craven’s fat crisp in one of my famous violet fireballs.” Vastinus finished with a chuckle.

Having heard Vastinus refer to “his scaly friend” Hek knew that Grummok must be within, immobilized or worse. The human assassin tuned out the blathering of Vastinus and opened the door slowly, just a crack, so that he could peek inside undetected. The room was obviously Vastinus’s study for the large chamber was lined with heavy oaken bookcases. A chandelier of crystalline globes hung in the center of the ceiling and provided illumination, obviously via magical enchantment, to the entire room. The floor was plush with thick carpeting and the only furniture were two immense broad backed chairs, stately and comfortable that dominated the center of the room. Grummok stood motionless by one of the chairs while Vastinus continued to rant, striding back and forth in front of the gargoyle occasionally waving his hands to drive home some part of his tirade. 

Vastinus was a Genasi, a mortal whose blood was mingled with that of an elemental, a fire elemental in this case. The mage was tall and thin with a tangled nest of bright red hair that seemed to move like the crackling dance of flame itself. Vastinus was clad in a simple white robe, belted with a wide yellow sash, that sharply contrasted with the Genasi’s reddish skin and his only armament was a gracefully curved dagger thrust into his belt.

Hek noted that Grummok’s body was completely still and that he held his favorite dagger in his left hand, there were none of the twitches or minor contortions that a body would experience when asked to stand completely still and Hek’s keen eye determined that Grummok must be under the influence of some kind of enchantment. If Hek did not act soon Vastinus would eventually tire of hearing the sound of his own voice and slay the helpless gargoyle. 

Hek decided that it was now or never and kicked open the door with a resounding crash to hurl his dagger at the wide-eyed mage. Vastinus’s seemingly endless babble died with a choked gurgle as Hek’s dagger buried itself in the genasi’s throat. Vastinus hand frantically scrambled at the hilt of Hek’s blade jutting from beneath his chin as his bright red blood coursed down his robes staining them in streaks of rushing crimson. With another dagger in hand Hek rushed across the room to drive his second blade into Vastinus’s chest, piercing the mage’s heart and ending his life. 

With the immediate threat eliminated Hek turned to Grummok who still stood immobile resembling nothing more than a terrible statue. Hek guessed that the spell would eventually wear off and busied himself by stripping Vastinus’s corpse and perusing the myriad books that lined the walls. Hek did not have to wait long as a few moments later Grummok suddenly convulsed his arm arcing out in a vicious blur finishing the movement he had begun before Vastinus’s spell had ensnared him. When the gargoyle had gathered his wits he turned to his apprentice and stretched his fanged mouth in a tight, forced smile. “Well Hek, it seems you learned a bit more on this outing than I had intended. I am in your debt.” With that the gargoyle slammed his dagger back into its sheath and stalked from the room, shame and rage clouding the air around the veteran assassin.

Hek stood alone in the Vastinus’s study letting Grummok’s words rattle around in his head. The gargoyle was absolutely right, Hek had learned more than was intended; he had leaned that his master was not invulnerable. Hek found Grummok waiting for him in the foyer a brutal frown creasing his bestial features. Hek had to stifle a laugh; the gargoyle obviously was not used to relying on anyone and resented it immensely. Well, Hek thought, perhaps _he_ was not the only one who had learned something this night.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 11, 2003)

Looks like this one is going to be a long one. So I have split it into two for ease of reading. Here is the first part.

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*Grummok (age 80):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn7; CR 15; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+11d6+84; hp 155; Init +11; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (perfect); AC 28 (+6 Dex, +4 natural, +6 studded leather armor, +2 ring); Atk +21 melee (1d6+6/19-20 x2, 2 claws), +17 melee (1d6+2, bite), +17 melee (1d6+2 gore) or +20/+15/+10 melee (1d4+8/19-20 x2, +4 distance fleshgrinding dagger); SA sneak attack +6d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked, +1 vs. traps), +3 saves vs. poison, DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +15, Ref +17, Will +7; Str 18, Dex 24, Con 22, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 12.

_Skills (111 pts):_ Bluff +6, Craft (poison making) +10, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +13, Gather Information +10, Hide +30, Intimidate +6, Listen +10, Move Silently +25, Open Lock +13, Search +10, Sense Motive +10, Spot +10, Tumble +15.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative, Improved Critical (claws), Two Weapon Fighting   
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ +3 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of advanced magic fang +2, belt of giant strength +4, +4 distance fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, ring of protection +2, head band of intellect +2, gloves of dexterity +6, ring of minor elemental protection (fire), amulet of the zephyr, 
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (3/2/2; save DC 13 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache, obscuring mist. 2nd – alter self, darkness. 3rd – invisibility, sadism

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 20) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

*The Blackguard's Vengeance Part I*

Hek has become a full-fledged assassin, gaining the rank of journeyman in record time. The human continues to work with his former mentor Grummok and the two have completed many daring and prestigious contracts. A rare bond exists between the human and the gargoyle, a loyalty that borders on true friendship but is held at bay by both assassins’ unwillingness to trust anyone completely. Still, Grummok trusts Hek more than anyone in the entire city and the two assassins enjoy the company of one another in a guarded and perfunctory fashion.

Grummok himself has become somewhat of a celebrity in Erelhei-Cinlu, for next to Jen Kedar the gargoyle is the single most dangerous assassin in the city. Grummok is often sought by the wealthy and prestigious members of Erelhei-Cinlu to eliminate enemies and rivals and the gargoyle happily obliges all who are able to afford his astronomical fee. To say that Grummok is wealthy would be an understatement of vast proportions; Grummok is without a doubt one of the wealthiest members of Erelhei-Cinlu’s elite hierarchy. The fabulous largess the gargoyle has accumulated is spent mostly on upgrading his equipment and bribing the clergy of Lolth so that the vindictive devotees of the spider queen will let him operate unmolested.  

The unmistakable success that Grummok has enjoyed over the past twenty years is not without its pitfalls. The gargoyle has accumulated quite a list of enemies and rivals that would enjoy nothing more than seeing the mighty assassin tumbled from his lofty perch. What’s more, rumblings within his own guild have alerted Grummok to the possibility that Jen Kedar Everhate, the guild master of assassins himself, has come to resent Grummok’s growing power and prosperity. But despite any possible diversity Grummok goes about his lethal business unchallenged and woe to any who think to catch the gargoyle of his guard. 

Of all those that hate and loathe Grummok there is one whose lust for vengeance burns brighter than any. Thagmot, the brutal bugbear mercenary who assisted Grummok so many years ago in his assassination of the famed weapon master Azakai Tormtor, has never forgotten his ill treatment at the hands of the gargoyle assassin. Used as a simple diversion and then abandoned to his fate, the bugbear bares a hatred for Grummok that has burned ever brighter these past eighteen years. Thagmot has gained much power in the last two decades due in large part to his discovery and devotion to the black cult of Therizdun. The bugbear has given his soul to the mad god of emptiness and despair and is now a bastion of unholy power. Grummok has long forgotten Thagmot believing him slain in the riot that had ensued after Azakai Tormtor’s demise. The gargoyle has spared not a moments concern on the rare event that the bugbear had survived, a mistake that nearly saw the cautious and deadly assassin plying his trade in hell.

Grummok does not usually fraternize with anyone outside his guild, finding most of the denizens of Erelhei-Cinlu beneath his recognition but on the rare occasions that the gargoyle feels sociable he will spend a few hours at a lavishly appointed tavern in the Ghetto of Foreigners called The Lady Eight. The Lady Eight is renowned for its gambling tables and the staggering variety of ales, wines and liquors that it serves. Grummok has become rather fond of a vintage served at the Lady Eight brewed from the blood of fey and on the rare occasions that he visits the tavern he enjoys a glass or two, while listening to the skilled minstrels that the Lady Eight always keeps on hand. 

On the night Thagmot made his bid for vengeance Grummok had made one of his rare visits to the Lady Eight. The gargoyle was accompanied by Hek as the two planned to discuss a bit of side business they had going away from the prying eyes and ears of the guild. The two assassins chose a table in the back of the bar, nestled in a corner so that they could watch the door and have their backs to a wall. Grummok was on his third glass of blood wine and deep into his conversation with Hek when the maelstrom struck. 

The first sign of danger came in the form of a sudden feeling of unease that crept over both assassins, they shared a momentary glance of alarm and then trusting the instincts they had honed over years of conflict and training, leapt from their seats and drew their weapons. Seconds later the main door to the Lady Eight, a solid iron braced affair, was struck by a tremendous weight from the opposite side and was knocked from its hinges with a tremendous crash. The stunned patrons of the Lady Eight sat transfixed as eight feet of towering malevolence stepped through the shattered portal and into the tavern.

The very air around the newcomer seemed to shrink back in horror and a palpable sense of utter blasphemy choked the shadowy interior of the tavern. The intruder was clad head to toe in glistening black plate, a bizarre black spiral motif worked onto every visible surface. An open faced helm crowned with two backwards curving horns adorned the intruders head and the bestial glare of its bugbear owner moved over the stunned crown of tavern patrons with a withering maliciousness. In his right mailed fist the bugbear gripped a weapon born of emptiness and terror; a halberd of dark steel wreathed in a shroud of crackling black flame. A low keening emanated from the weapon as if the tortured souls of its many victims had somehow left the imprint of their dying screams trapped within the steel.

All the patrons of the Lady Eight were familiar with evil in fact many reveled in it, including Grummok. But this, this was more than petty thievery or murder, this was the culmination of a soul given freely to the grasping emptiness of eternal damnation, this was evil in its purest most lethal form.

Grummok recognized the bugbear at once, although the recognition itself came as somewhat of a shock. When Grummok had last seen Thagmot he was little more than a petty thug, good for little more than a diversion or hired muscle. But the bugbear that confronted Grummok now seemed to pulse with unholy power and for one of the few times in his long life, Grummok was truly afraid. 

Thagmot spotted Grummok almost instantly and he pointed his halberd at the gargoyle, “You!” he boomed his eyes blazing with hatred and fury. His quarry in his sights the massive bugbear took up his halberd in a two handed grip and began a methodical advance towards the two assassins. Grummok and Hek dropped low in a fighting crouch holding their daggers close to their bodies and awaited the iron clad behemoth and his terrible weapon.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 15, 2003)

Ok, sorry for the delay. Here is the second part of the fight with Thagmot. It took me a while to figure out whether I wanted to portray Grummok as a complete bastard or as an evil creture with a shred of decency. Hek seems to be the catalyst for both bad Grummok and not so bad Grummok, the following installment puts the gargoyle firmly in one of those camps. I hope that you like the direction I took.

Dirge

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*The Blackguard's Vengeance Part II*

As Thagmot advanced upon the two assassins the patrons of the Lady Eight took the opportunity to stream out behind the blackguard and out the shattered front door. The proprietor of the tavern, a grizzled drow mercenary by the name of Kadashar, was not about to see his livelihood chased out of his establishment blackguard or no. The old mercenary who had been conversing with his bartender when Thagmot demolished his front door, drew a pair of shortsword from concealed scabbards across his back and vaulted lithely over the bar to block Thagmot’s advance. 

Kadashar wasted no time on parlay and launched a flurry of cuts at the bugbear's legs and midsection. The veteran warrior was skilled with his blades but he was seriously outclassed and his lightening fast slashes bounced harmlessly off of Thagmot's plate and halberd. The bugbear wasted no time in dispatching Kadashar, lashing out with blinding speed to catch the drow fighter’s leading foot with the hook of his halberd; then with a mighty jerk the bugbear yanked the drow warrior off of his feet dumping him on his back in a disheveled heap. To finish his adversary Thagmot shifted his weight and brought his halberd over and across his shoulders in a massive overhand blow that struck the downed drow warrior in the chest and nearly split him in two.

As Thagmot was wrenching his halberd from the corpse of Kadashar, Grummok and Hek sprang to the attack with Grummok rushing forward and Hek moving around to get behind the blackguard. Thagmot ignored Hek focusing solely on Grummok holding his now gore-spattered halberd out in front of him to keep the gargoyle at a distance. Grummok became a blur of lightening feints and parries, striking at the bugbear's defenses and the quickly tumbling away to avoid Thagmot’s deadly halberd. Thagmot for his part flailed away furiously at the gargoyle but his powerful strokes were avoided with ease as Grummok stayed just beyond his reach. With his attention fixed on Grummok Thagmot had allowed Hek to move into position behind him but the wily blackguard was not about to be caught between two assassins if he could help it. 

Hek had drawn the dagger he had taken from the corpse of the fire genasi invoker slain by he and Grummok over five years ago. The dagger was heavily enchanted and imbued with the essence of fire so that the blade glowed red with withering heat upon command. Hek was moving silently up to the preoccupied bugbear preparing to plunge his dagger into the blackguard’s unprotected back. Thagmot was busy holding Grummok at bay and seemingly took no notice of Hek moving stealthily up behind him. When Hek was just a few paces away from the bugbear he raised his dagger and rushed forward to deliver a crippling strike but the cunning blackguard was ready for him. 

With a speed that belied his great ponderous body, Thagmot whirled around his halberd leading and caught the stunned Hek squarely in the chest with weapon’s axe blade. The blow contained every bit of Thagmot’s momentum and staggering strength, lifting Hek off of his feet and flinging him away to lie in a broken heap amid the wreckage of the taverns chairs and tables. Grummok did not waste the opportunity presented by Thagmot’s momentary distraction and rushed the bugbear emitting a shrieking battle cry. The gargoyle leapt onto Thagmot’s back, snaking a scaly arm around the blackguard’s neck while raising his fiendish dagger with the other. Grummok clung to Thagmot with every ounce of strength he could muster and struck at the only unprotected part of the bugbears massive body, his face.

Grummok pistoned his arm up and over Thagmot’s open faced helm plunging his dagger into the bugbears face twice before Thagmot, writhing in agony, managed to shake the tenacious gargoyle off of his back. Grummok hit the ground and rolled to his feet his dagger poised to strike, but there was no need, the blackguard had lost all interest in the deadly assassin. Thagmot had stumbled back away from Grummok clutching the ruins of his face and howling in absolute torment. Grummok’s two strikes had inflicted grievous damage removing the bugbear’s right eye with the first while the second had plunged deep into the blackguard’s mouth, taking most of his upper lip and good portion of his tongue along with it. 

His face a mask of agony and rage, Thagmot spared one last hate filled glare at Grummok and then turned and fled disappearing out the front door of the tavern and into the concealing darkness of Erelhei-Cinlu. Grummok had no doubt that he would see the maimed blackguard again, but now another stranger fear gripped him. Grummok’s gaze fell upon the unmoving form of Hek and an odd panic crashed into him; he realized the fear he was feeling was not for himself but for his fallen companion. The gargoyle had never known real friendship, for emotional attachments often got assassins killed but here it was, plain as the naked steel in his hand, he did not want Hek to die.

Grummok rushed to his felled companions side and sheathed his dagger. Hek sprawled on his back his face ashen, he was still breathing but his respiration came in short gasps through a bloody froth. Grummok gently opened up the front of the human’s tunic with a talon to reveal the fine links of his Mithral shirt. The armor had stopped the bite of the halberd but not the crushing force that drove it, Hek’s ribs were fractured and it was very likely that one of the ribs had punctured a lung. Hek would certainly die if he did not receive immediate attention; fortunately Grummok carried a healing potion for just such an occasion. The gargoyle plucked a small flask from underneath his armor and removed the stopper. He then tipped Hek’s head back, opened his mouth and poured the amber liquid from the potion bottle down Hek’s throat. The results were immediate, Hek’s breathing became deeper and more regular and some color returned to his face, bit he was still unconscious and required further healing.

Feeling it was safe to move his friend, Grummok scooped up the unconscious human and threw him over his broad scaled back. One of the roving patrols of drow soldiers would likely be here soon to investigate the commotion and Grummok had no desire to explain the carnage and destruction that had occurred. The gargoyle fled from the tavern and vaulted into the air careful not to jostle Hek too much in the process he then headed back towards the assassin’s guild where a skilled healer could look at Hek’s remaining wounds.

Grummok’s mind was awhirl as he flew; he was confused and angry at himself for allowing the friendship with Hek to develop. The gargoyle had known nothing but murder and treachery his whole life, to trust another was completely alien to him, and those that offered that kind of trust usually offered it just before they drove their dagger into your gut. But perhaps, if such loyalty were to exist it would be mutually beneficial to both parties, Grummok reasoned, for in the dangerous city of Erelhei-Cinlu another pair of eyes watching your back was a rare commodity. 
Grummok looked down at the unconscious human in his arms and wondered, Hek had saved his life with no thought of blackmail or compensation but had done it simply out of the loyalty he felt for his master, perhaps there was some merit to that. Grummok found himself pondering the implications of his merciful actions in the tavern the entire flight home finally coming to the conclusion that only time would bring to light the strength of his loyalty and the price of friendship.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 21, 2003)

As promisd here sre the stats and histroy of Thagmot.

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*Thagmot, male bugbear Ftr6/Rog1/Blk6:* CR 15; ECL 17; Medium-size Humanoid (bugbear); HD 3d8+1d6+12d10+48; hp 151; Init +3; Spd 40 ft; AC 25 (+11 full plate, +1 Dex, +3 natural); Melee _+3 unholy screaming halberd_ +24/+19/+14 (1d10+2d6 unholy + 1d6 sonic +14/19-20 crit x3); SA sneak attack +2d6, poison use, smite good, aura of despair, command undead; SQ Darkvision 60 ft, dark blessing, detect good; AL LE; SV Fort +16, Ref +12, Will +11; Str 22, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 13, Wis 14, Cha 16.

_Skills: (45 points):_ Climb +8, Hide +9, Intimidate +9, Listen +9, Jump +8, Knowledge (religion) +5, Move Silently +12, Spot +9  
_Feats:_ (8) Weapon Focus (halberd), Weapon Specialization (Halberd), Power Attack, Cleave, Sunder, Improved Critical (halberd), Expertise, Improved Trip, Knockdown, Improved Disarm.
_Blackguard Spells Prepared:_ (2/2/1; save DC 12 + spell level): 1st – cause fear, bone blast 2nd – darkness, devil’s eye 3rd – abyssal might.
_Equipment: +3 unholy screaming halberd, +3 full plate of darksoul protection, helm of protection +2, boots of striding and springing, cloak of charisma +2, Gauntlets of Golgotha*_ 

*Smite Good (Su):* Once per day Thagmot may attempt to bring the unholy power of Therizdun to bear in a melee attack. He may smite a good aligned opponent adding +3 to his attack roll and an additional six points of damage to his damage roll.

*Aura of Despair (Su):* Thagmot radiates an aura of absolute emptiness and horror that causes all enemies within 10 feet to suffer a –2 on all saving throws.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

**Gauntlets of Golgotha:* these chain and plate finger gauntlets are forged from black iron and bear the mark of some long forgotten deity of pain and darkness. They were specifically designed for the most devout warriors of evil and imbue their wielder with unhallowed might. The gauntlets bestow a +2 enhancement bonus to strength and cause any weapon wielded by the wearer of the gauntlets to gain the unholy weapon enchantment. In addition to the powers described above the Gauntlets of Golgotha allow the wielder to declare an “unhallowed strike” once per day inflicting maximum damage and automatically threatening a critical hit. The gauntlets’ powers only function for those devoted to the cause of evil and if a being of neutral or good alignment dons them he must immediately make a fortitude save DC 18 or be struck dead.



It is said that the vengeful soul falls to darkness before all others; such is the fate of the blackguard Thagmot. Thoroughly corrupted by the emptiness that has driven him to the edges of sanity the broken bugbear has embraced the teachings of the awful deity Therizdun and has slipped into the arms of madness and utter damnation. Nothing exists for Thagmot, beyond vengeance and a reckless pursuit of destruction, it is a pallid facsimile of existence, fleeting and unfulfilling. 

Thagmot’s life was not always thus; he once was filled with ambition and a feral drive to succeed at all he put his mind to. A former slave, the bugbear gained his freedom when his masters in house Kilsek were driven from the city and all of their lands and belongings became forfeit. Not wanting to end up a slave in another household Thagmot fled to the Ghetto of Chattels, a dark and dangerous district of Erelhei-Cinlu that housed all manner of cast off humanoids and ex-slaves. Within this cesspool of humanoid debris, Thagmot’s keen mind and martial prowess soon elevated him to a position of power and prestige.

Thagmot had been part of house Kilsek’s elite guard and was an accomplished warrior, the bugbear thrived on conflict and violence and soon found a way to put his warlike nature to the best possible use. Six months after his arrival in the Ghetto of Chattels Thagmot had attracted a group of likeminded humanoids of all shapes and sizes seeking his protection and also a chance to make a better life for themselves. The mercantile bugbear soon began hiring himself and some of his followers out to various wealthy members of the city as bodyguards or extra muscle. This practice became so lucrative and Thagmot so successful that he no longer needed to take any risk himself and formed a thriving mercenary business, hiring out a virtual army of loyal thugs and cutthroats. 

Thagmot’s reputation as a leader of vicious humanoid rabble grew throughout the city and soon the Ghetto of Chattels belonged to him and him alone. None dared enter Thagmot’s territory unless they were invited or had made prior arrangements to meet the powerful bugbear to discuss business. Thagmot was establishing an empire within his ghetto and was basking happily in the glow of wealth and success until a gargoyle assassin brought all that he had built to the ground in a single blow.

Grummok had arrived unannounced and unafraid on the doorstep of Thagmot’s demesne demanding to see the bugbear leader. None of Thagmot’s men had been able to detain the gargoyle and of the three that tried one would never walk again and the other two had become corpses before their blades even cleared their scabbards. Thagmot was intrigued with the deadly gargoyle and granted him an audience. Grummok’s offer and his five thousand gold pieces were hard to turn away, even if it meant that Thagmot himself must be involved personally. The gargoyle had been contracted to slay one of the deadliest warriors in the city, the house weapon master of the noble Tormtor family, and would require some extra blades to assist him. One of the conditions of the job was that Thagmot himself must accompany the gargoyle and lend his considerable skill to the task. Thagmot was skeptical but Grummok sweetened the deal by offering the salvage rights to the weapon master’s equipment once he was slain. The bugbear leader could hardly resist such a tempting offer and accepted the conditions promising himself and four of his finest warriors on the night the assassination was to take place. 

The events of Azakai Tormtor’s assassination are well documented having become popular lore in the Ghetto of Foreigners, but few know of the bugbear mercenary who made it possible for Grummok to bring his blade to bear and bring low the powerful weapon master. Thagmot and his men had been used as a crude but effective diversion, occupying Azakai’s attention while Grummok moved into position. Once the deed was done the gargoyle left Thagmot to the mercy of the outraged tavern patrons of the Blighted Behir who had been betting on a battle between Thagmot and Azakai Tormtor. Cheated of their entertainment the enraged mob had turned on Thagmot and nearly slew him before he managed to fight his way clear of the tavern. Thagmot emerged from the Blighted Behir with nothing to show for his efforts but Azakai Tormtor’s enchanted saber, dropped when the weapon master was slain, and a deep and abiding hatred for the gargoyle assassin who had duped him and left him for dead.  

Wounded and unable to return to the Ghetto of Chattels, Thagmot holed up in an abandoned building to lick his wounds and plot his revenge. When he was hale enough to return to his home another misfortune awaited him. News had traveled fast of Azakai Tormtor’s demise and the fact that Thagmot had not returned in over a week had led those in the bugbear’s employ to believe that he had been slain. When Thagmot limped back into the perceived safety of his domain he quickly found that things had changed dramatically in the days he had been away. Judok, a powerful minotaur warrior and one of Thagmot’s most trusted men had taken control of the bugbears organization of mercenaries and was not about to relinquish control back to its former leader. Thagmot was forcibly removed from the small empire he had so laboriously constructed by armed guards and warned never to return on pain of death. 

Broken and empty Thagmot left the city of Erelhei-Cinlu to wander the vast network of tunnels that lay outside the lands of the drow. No one knows what Thagmot found in the stygian blackness and untraceable depths of the underdark but fifteen years after his downfall the bugbear appeared at the gates of Erelhei-Cinlu, a creature of darkness. Possessed of the will and power of Therizdun, Thagmot was a changed being, driven only by his thirst for vengeance and an unrivaled appetite for mayhem. The bugbear’s revenge was swift and terrible. The first to taste the dread power of Therizdun’s champion was Judok, the minotaur warrior who now controlled Thagmot’s former mercenary company. Thagmot simply marched into the Ghetto of Chattels, a black iron behemoth of horrific magnificence, slaying all who dared oppose him. When he had finally cornered Judok, Thagmot unleashed the power of Therizdun upon the hapless minotaur, smiting him with a terrible spell that caused his bones to shatter within the fleshy confines of his body. And when Judok lay screeching in torment, the jagged splinters of his own bones protruding through his shredded flesh, Thagmot left the minotaur to while away his last few moments in unbearable agony.

Having dealt with Judok, Thagmot left the ghetto of chattels and headed for a well-appointed tavern in the Ghetto of Artisans called the Lady Eight. There he would confront the assassin who had left him for dead so many years ago and finally claim the vengeance he had so carefully nurtured in the darkness of Therizdun’s shadow.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 26, 2003)

Sorry for the delay guys. It is another long one in two parts, but I hope you think it was worth the wait.

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*Hunger Part I*

*Grummok (age 85):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn8; CR 16; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+12d6+90; hp 165; Init +9; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (perfect); AC 30 (+6 Dex, +4 natural, +7 studded leather armor, +3 ring); Atk +22 melee (1d6+6/19-20 x2, 2 claws), +18 melee (1d6+2, bite), +18 melee (1d6+2 gore) or +21/+16/+11 melee (1d4+8/17-20 x2, _+4 keen distance fleshgrinding dagger_) or +23/+18/+13 ranged (1d6 plus 1d6 shock +5/ crit x3, _+3 shock mighty composite shortbow_ (Str 14))  ; SA sneak attack +6d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked, +1 vs. traps), +4 saves vs. poison, DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +16, Ref +18, Will +8; Str 18, Dex 24, Con 22, Int 18, Wis 12, Cha 12.

_Skills (119 pts):_ Bluff +10, Craft (poison making) +10, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +13, Gather Information +10, Hide +30, Intimidate +6, Listen +12, Move Silently +25, Open Lock +13, Search +10, Sense Motive +10, Spot +12, Tumble +15.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative, Improved Critical (claws), Two Weapon Fighting   
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ +4 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of advanced magic fang +2, belt of giant strength +4, +4 keen distance fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, ring of protection +3, head band of intellect +2, gloves of dexterity +6, ring of minor elemental protection (fire), amulet of the zephyr, +3 shock mighty composite shortbow (Str 14), 20 +3 arrows
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (3/2/2/2; save DC 14 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache, obscuring mist. 2nd – alter self, darkness. 3rd – invisibility, sadism 4th – improved invisibility, dimension door

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 22) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

Hek survived his wounds inflicted by the blackguard Thagmot but did not recover as quickly as Grummok had hoped. The gargoyle noticed that his longtime companion was showing the effects of his age. Now in his fifties, Hek’s body was a brutal testimony to his harsh life, while Grummok’s preternatural physiology and magical nature allowed him to function undeterred despite his eighty plus years. But another ailment inflicts Hek, one that Grummok has tried very hard to understand, a disease of the soul grips the aging human for his heart is infected with the terrible memories of his life and they are slowly consuming him. 

Since the battle with Thagmot Grummok and Hek have spent much time together, drinking and telling stories at various inns around the city. Grummok has come to terms with his odd dependency on Hek and has learned that the company of another sentient creature offers rewards beyond what you can take at the point of a dagger. Hek has found Grummok to be an eager listener and the human has obliged the gargoyle by sharing the one precious thing he still retains, his early memories of the surface. Grummok is intrigued by the sunlit worlds above and by Hek’s description of his family and the small town of Hommlet where he was born. But Hek’s story as Grummok knows quickly deteriorates into one of despair and pain, and oddly enough this fact has kindled a cold and terrible rage within the gargoyle’s soul. 

Friendship is a commodity that Grummok has never known and the terrible treatment of the young Hek at the hands of Shebon Mot in the horrid brothel where the young human was imprisoned for three years sparks a murderous hatred in the gargoyle assassin that lately has begun to consume him. Grummok has carefully hidden his anger from Hek but seeks a way to strike out at those that tormented his friend for so long. With Shebon Mot long dead there is only one remaining person in Hek’s history where Grummok can hang is rage, Hunnek Garekon, Madame and owner of the Fairer Flesh brothel. Grummok’s rage finally compelled him to action on the day of Hek’s fifty-seventh birthday and the gargoyle set out to grant a gift of vengeance to his tormented human friend.

The Fairer Flesh brothel has squatted like a fat perverse toad in the Ghetto of Outcasts for as long as anyone can remember. Its current proprietor, a fat and ugly drow woman by the name of Hunnek Garekon runs a brisk business peddling flesh to the perverse lusts of the sprawling drow city. Hunnek’s brothel is well known for offering numerous young and unmarred elves and humans from the surface lands and has become very popular among the more deviant members of Erelhei-Cinlu’s aristocracy. Hunnek herself is rarely seen and business is conducted in the common room of her brothel by one of her two troglodyte employees who also serve as bouncers and bodyguards.

Grummok had no desire for a stand-up fight with Madame Hunnek as she was rumored to be priestess of no small power. His plan was to simply enter the Fairer Flesh undetected and murder Madame Hunnek before any alarm could be raised. On the night Grummok set out to perform the assassination the Fairer Flesh was in full swing and full of patrons. Grummok entered the seedy establishment under the cloak of magical invisibility and all his senses were immediately assaulted with a miasma of degradation and hopelessness that clung to the place like a death shroud.

Madame Hunnek had made few attempts to mask the squalor and filth of her establishment, which was little more than dank cave carved into a massive stalagmite. The rough stone floor of the common room was haphazardly covered with frayed rugs of the cheapest quality and a number of ill-treated and very stained couches provided the only place for patrons to sit while they chose their pleasure. The room reeked of smoke and perfume all overshadowed by the stench of the two troglodytes that kept the peace and conducted all business transactions for Madame Hunnek. The pleasure slaves were all lined up against the far wall of the common room for all the patrons to view. Their ages and races ran the gamut but regardless of their years or origin each one bared the scars of their ill treatment by the Fairer Flesh’s patrons. Attempts had been made to cover up the bruises and badly healed broken bones but nothing could hide the despair and torment that had left an indelible stain upon the faces of these broken innocents.

Grummok watched the patrons of the Fairer Flesh, mostly wealthy merchants and nobility who were enjoying an evening of “slumming”, as they mingled or selected a pleasure slave to take upstairs and be “entertained”. Rage began to burn beneath Grummok’s skin at the casual brutality inflicted upon the helpless courtesans, not because their suffering bothered him for in truth he cared little for anyone beyond himself and now Hek. What kindled the fires of hatred in Grummok was that in each one of the battered pathetic creatures that stared blankly from the line of pleasure slaves he saw Hek’s face. The face of the boy Grummok had left behind, the face of his friend.

Grummok marked each of the patrons in the common room for he would find them eventually, alone and in the endless dark of Erelhei-Cinlu they would suffer just as Hek had. But now Grummok had far greater concerns and he ached to sink his claws into the mastermind behind all of the pain that lingered in the common room and gnawed at the gargoyle’s soul. Grummok crept to the simple stone stairway that wound its way up to the second floor; Madame Hunnek’s chambers would likely be there. The second floor was little more than crudely carved tunnel with small open chambers jutting off to the left and right. The chambers did not even have doors and were covered only by a ratty curtain that did nothing to hide the terrible sights and sounds taking place beyond. At the end of the tunnel two large ironbound doors were set into the stone and were guarded by a single troglodyte resting on a barbed spear and looking very bored. 

Troglodytes were somewhat rare in Erelhei-Cinlu for the barbarous reptilian humanoids typically had no use for civilization or its trappings. Grummok wondered what Madame Hunnek’s connection to the foul scaled creatures could be and why they would show any loyalty to a drow priestess. 

Invisible and silent Grummok scanned the tunnel noting that he and the troglodyte were alone, the occupants of the various rooms were far too involved to notice or hear anything beyond the pursuit of their own perversion. The guard would have to be dealt with but Grummok would have to drop his invisibility spell to do it, fortunately he had memorized another for just such a situation. Grummok studied the troglodyte, noting his lack of armor but seeing that his thick scales would provide ample protection from most attacks. The gargoyle surmised that the scales would be thinnest at the base of the trog’s neck and a dagger strike there would certainly kill or incapacitate the humanoid. Grummok drew his dagger and crept silently up to the troglodyte warrior, its large lidless eyes were fixed straight ahead and it seemed to have taken no notice of its impending doom. Grummok was a few paces away from the troglodyte when its small nostrils suddenly dilated with a quick intake of breath and its body tensed, the spear it had been holding no longer at rest but held threateningly out in front of its body. 

It had smelled him! Grummok realized with a start. The gargoyle noted however that the troglodyte had not actually seen him and was scanning the short tunnel frantically in a vain attempt to locate the presence it had sensed. Grummok gave the trog no chance to home in on him and rushed forward, still invisible, to plunge his dagger into the humanoid's throat. The troglodyte made no sound as Grummok ripped his dagger from its throat in a wide sweeping arc so that the wound was a wide and gaping slash. Black ichor gushed from the trog’s neck and he sank to the rough stone floor to silently bleed to death. 

Grummok was now visible and had a body to contend with. The gargoyle noticed that the small chamber closest to him was empty so he dragged the limp form of the troglodyte into the cramped confines and drew the curtain. Grummok then mouthed another incantation and disappeared, once again under the concealment of magical invisibility. The huge pool of black troglodyte ichor was removed in a similar fashion; a simple illusion spell masking the damning fluid from view. 

A possible catastrophe diverted Grummok turned his attention back to the ironbound doors, which likely led to Hunnek’s private chambers. The doors were of course locked and trapped, but the locking mechanism was simple and the trap was nothing more than an amateurish poison needle hidden in the one of the huge iron pullrings used to open the door. Grummok had the door unlocked and untrapped in seconds and slid silently into Hunnek’s inner sanctum. 

The room was not as Grummok had expected it to be. He had been prepared for an opulently furnished bedroom with all the luxuries a wealthy drow woman like Hunnek could afford. What he found instead was what appeared to be little more than the lair of some beast. The room had once contained furniture but most of it had been reduced to splinters and along with the shredded bedding and linen had been used to create something that could only be described as a nest. The nest was some 10 feet across and dominated most of the room, a huge depression on the center of the mass of refuse indicated the a large creature had recently lain there and the stench of its body still lingered heavily in the air.

The leavings of the beast's meals were evident as well; bones and shreds of rotting flesh littered the ground in stinking piles of offal and by the nature of the bones Grummok surmised that courtesans who had lost their profitability ended up here. The stink in the air was nearly intolerable but Grummok was no stranger to carnage and the reek of human and elven flesh was not unpleasant to him. 

The only other thing of note within the abattoir was a crude altar of black basalt on which rested a most curious carved stone idol. About the size of two clenched fists the idol was an unsubtle rendering of a strange toad like creature that exhibited reptilian features as well as amphibian. There was something all together perverse and unwholesome about the small statue and it was obviously a religious icon of some sort but depicted no deity Grummok had ever heard mention of. 

The gargoyle was more than a little perplexed. What had Madame Hunnek become involved in and what manner of creature laired in what obviously used to be her chamber. Perhaps the beast had devoured Hunnek herself but it seemed unlikely that troglodytes would have any interest in running a brothel. Something very strange was happening here and Grummok began to wonder what he had stumbled onto. 

Something unsettling pricked at the edge of Grummok’s thoughts, how would a creature as large as the one that obviously laired here move from place to place. It certainly could not go through the front door for the patrons of the Fairer Flesh would likely not appreciate their debauchery interrupted by a rampaging beast. Grummok concluded that the beast would have to leave via another exit and began searching the walls and floors of the chamber for hidden doors. It did not take him long to find what he was looking for, casually concealed beneath a pile of shredded blood stained clothes was a large trapdoor. Grummok examined the edge of the trapdoor wary for any traps or alarms but found nothing and on further investigation concluded that the opening would be large enough to permit quite a large creature. 

With no other avenues left to explore Grummok grasped the iron pull ring on the trapdoor and pulled it up from the floor with one mighty heave. The stench that bellowed forth from the dark aperture was unlike anything Grummok had ever experienced and he fell back choking and gagging his eyes watering from the horrendous stink. When the air had cleared a bit and Grummok was able to breathe he crept back to the black hole in the floor and peered down. The trapdoor opened into a vertical tunnel with crude handholds spaced evenly down the length of the tunnel wall in place of a latter. The shaft appeared to descend some thirty feet and then open into a horizontal tunnel running east under the brothel. With no hesitation Grummok slipped into the yawning darkness beyond the trapdoor and began descending down the tunnel wall.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Mar 4, 2003)

Ok here is part two of the last Grummok installment. Unfortunately I have gotten so into to writing this one that there will have to be a part three as well. Hope you guys don't mind.

Man, if I keep this up they're gonna ship me over to the story hour boards. 

*************************************************

*Hunger Part II*

The shaft beneath the trapdoor descended thirty feet into the darkness before opening up into a long tunnel running east. The shaft terminated at the ceiling of the horizontal tunnel requiring Grummok to jump the final ten feet to the tunnel floor. The gargoyle landed silently and gazed down the length of the subterranean passage. The tunnel ran ahead beyond the range of Grummok’s darkvision but he detected a faint glow in the distance that appeared to be some kind of artificial illumination. 

Grummok had virtually no idea what awaited him at the end of the tunnel and had no desire to walk into a potential lethal situation armed with only his dagger. The gargoyle had assumed that Madam Hunnek would be a powerful adversary and had brought along the means to dispose of the drow cleric at a distance. Grummok reached into a pouch on his belt, which to any onlooker would appear quite normal, that is until the gargoyle slipped his whole hand and most of his arm into the container, which was no bigger than a large sized coin purse. The pouch in actuality was heavily enchanted and contained an extra dimensional space that was much larger that the pouch appeared on the outside. Grummok had taken it off of one of his many victims and found it useful to carry items he might need without weighing himself down with too much equipment.

From the pouch Grummok pulled a long lacquered case of beautifully carved wood and a quiver of black fletched arrows. The case bore the markings of the drow god Vhaerun and from it Grummok removed a bow of exquisite craftsmanship and absolute lethality. Made entirely of black adamantine the weapon was a gracefully recurved shortbow decorated with a scrolling lightning motif on every available surface. When Grummok bent the bow in order to string it, it gave of a barely audible hum of magical energy and small bolts of harmless lightning flared down the length of the taut bowstring. 

With the bow assembled Grummok attached the quiver of arrows to his belt and immediately nocked one of the adamantine tipped missiles to his bow. Grummok had taken the shortbow from a rival assassin whom the gargoyle had slain over ten years ago. He had had no use for the bow until now and currently felt very grateful for the cool metallic feel of the weapon in his grasp. 

Still under the cloak of his invisibility spell Grummok crept forward towards the flickering light at the end of the tunnel. His footfalls were absolutely silent and the gargoyles keen senses strained to hear, feel, and even taste every minute change in his environment. As he neared the source of the illumination voices carried out across the darkness to his awaiting ears. The sibilant rasping hiss of the troglodyte tongue whispered down the tunnel and stopped Grummok in his tracks. The gargoyle strained to hear the voices more clearly, although he was unable to understand the language he was able to determine the number of speakers. Grummok concluded that two troglodytes were conversing within the lighted area ahead. The gargoyle had detected no alarm in their speech patterns and surmised that his presence had remained unnoticed. 

Grummok began to move forward again and in scant moments stood outside the very edge of the lighted area that was a small open cavern of crudely worked stone roughly squared at thirty feet to a side. Two flickering torches in iron wall sconces provided the feeble illumination Grummok had seen from the other end of the tunnel. The chamber was in all rather unremarkable, barren besides a set of immense double doors of black basalt some twenty feet wide and at least double that in height. The doors were etched with runes and sigils that Grummok could not begin to identify. Only one thing stood out in his mind as recognizable, in the center of each door a crude etching of the frog/lizard thing he had seen on the altar in Hunnek’s chamber leered out in mute savagery. Its gaping maw hanging open inviting sacrifice and death to all whom came near. 

Beside the doors stood two large troglodytes, each topping nearly seven feet in height. The trog’s were armored in shirts of black chainmail and gripped barbed long spears like the guard upstairs. They were conversing in the strange hissing tongue and their kind and seemed to have taken no notice of Grummok who stood invisible not more than 40 paces away. Grummok recalled the troglodytes he had slain upstairs and the humanoid’s keen sense of smell that had ruined the assassins surprise attack. Grummok had no desire to enter into hand-to-hand combat with these two brutish troglodytes and raised his bow, drawing his arrow back and sighting in on the troglodyte standing to the left of the great basalt door.

The twang of Grummok’s bowstring rang out in the confined space of the small chamber and the gargoyles missile struck his target with a meaty thud and a shower of sparks. The magic of Grummok’s bow transformed his arrow into a miniature lightening bolt and the impossibly hard adamantine head of the missile drove through the troglodytes neck with such force that it lodged in the stone behind the humanoid pinning his dying body to the wall. 

Grummok’s first shot had neutralized his target but had also nullified his invisibility spell leaving him in plain view of the second troglodyte. Unfortunately for it the troglodyte had over thirty feet to cover before it could bring its weapon to bear on the intruding gargoyle. Grummok had to admire the courage of the troglodyte as it charged directly towards him spear lowered for an impaling lunge, but Grummok was no fool and had no desire to be spitted by the charging humanoid. Grummok’s hand became a blur as he snapped off three shots from his bow and half a second later three arrows slammed into the charging troglodyte’s chest piercing clean through the hardened links of his mail in a shower of blue sparks.  The troglodyte was knocked off of his feet by the impaling force of Grummok’s arrows, crashing to the ground with a gasp. The troglodyte struggled feebly to rise for a few moments before finally succumbing to its wounds the slight odor of burnt flesh and ozone rising of its inert form.

Grummok crept forward with another arrow nocked to his bow making sure the two troglodytes were no longer a threat. Satisfied that his targets would cause him no further trouble he retrieved the enchanted arrows he had spent and replaced them in his quiver. Grummok then turned his attention to the huge basalt doors studying the strange sigils and etchings that covered its surface. Staring up at the colossal doors Grummok felt a sense of great age, the doors were certainly older than the brothel, and in fact they might possibly have been older than the city of Erelhei-Cinlu itself. Curiosity burning within him Grummok searched for a way to open the massive doors but his initial search found nothing but cold weathered stone. Undeterred Grummok searched every square inch of the black basalt that he could reach; eventually finding a catch concealed in the maw of one of the frog/lizard etchings. Fingering the hidden apparatus caused the doors to vibrate with a soft rumbling and Grummok stepped back to watch the gargantuan doors slowly swing open with a grinding roar. 

Beyond the doors lay a wall of impenetrable murk that even Grummok’s darkvision had difficulty piercing. But the stench that oozed forth from the stygian darkness was even worse than what the gargoyle had experienced in Hunnek’s chamber. Somewhat inured to the horrible stink that seemed to dominate the underground complex, Grummok held his breath until the air cleared a bit and then stepped to the edge of the yawning aperture. 

Straining to see Grummok could make out very little beyond the stone floor a few feet from the door. Grummok like many subterranean dwellers was blessed with sight that worked equally well in darkness and in light but for some reason the bizarre gloom that confronted him now foiled his darkvision completely. Perplexed Grummok retrieved one of the two torches that lay within the small chamber and for the first time in his life was forced to rely on artificial illumination. The darkness beyond the door retreated from the light as if burned and the torch cast far more light than Grummok thought possible from such a small flame. 

The torch forced Grummok to sling his bow and he drew his dagger to hold in his right hand while he held the torch in his left. Fear began to creep up the length of gargoyle’s spine but he ignored it and stepped through the massive portal and into the depths beyond. A worked stone passageway awaited Grummok beyond the door and stretched ahead into the blackness beyond the torchlight. 

Hating his dependency on the torch as it allowed him no stealth whatsoever Grummok crept forward regardless. The walls were bare in the passageway and a balmy heat hung in the air. Grummok walked along slowly, wary of any traps that might await his feet in the darkness. After roughly three hundred counted paces Grummok saw light ahead once again and snuffed his own torch so as not to give away his position to any enemies that might lie in wait. 

The passageway opened into an immense chamber dominated by a colossal statue of the weird frog/lizard hybrid creature the gargoyle had seen throughout the complex. The worked stonewalls were carved with all manner of twisted frog-like beings cavorting and committing every conceivable act of atrocity upon humans, elves and other surface races. Beneath the massive statue was sacrificial altar that held the still bleeding corpse of what Grummok assumed was one of the pleasure slaves from the brothel above. The real horror was what stood in front of the altar, crimson dripping dagger clenched in one taloned hand. In all his time in Erelhei-Cinlu Grummok had never seen a creature as foul or universally “wrong” as the beast that confronted him here in the forgotten temple of this terrible deity. It was humanoid in form but was swathed in layer upon layer of flabby flesh that hung in grotesque folds from its mammoth form. It towered easily over nine feet in height and its scaly skin glistened with a thick viscous slime that dripped constantly from its body and had formed a pool around its feet. The misshapen head of the beast was crowned with a ropy mop of lank white hair that clung to its skull in slime-slicked tufts. The creature had not detected him and had its back turned while it busied itself with the corpse in front on the altar.

Grummok watched both horrified and intrigued as the creature bent over the prostrate from of the slain courtesan and the sounds of ripping meat filled the temple. Blood and gobbets of flesh dripped down the side of the altar as the beast feasted and Grummok wondered what in all the layers of the abyss had he unwittingly stumbled into. Grummok’s stupor was suddenly broken as the beast’s head snapped up from its grisly feast and it began to make deep grunting snuffling noises. Grummok cursed himself for a fool. The thing had smelled him.

With a speed that belied it ungainly form the beast suddenly whirled around treating Grummok to the mind numbing terror of its visage. The huge fleshy body was clad only in a ragged breach clout over its swollen hips and the huge pendulous breasts hanging from its chest identified it as female, but the true horror lie in the thing’s face. A low-sloped brow sat above two small deep-set reptilian eyes, below that were two cavernous nostrils that amounted to little more than holes cut into the creature’s skull. A wide maw filled with flesh rending shards of bone dominated the beast’s face, and as it began to lurch forward towards Grummok that terrible maw opened wide, impossibly wide as if the beast’s whole head had suddenly become nothing more than a hungry tooth filled hole. But there was more to this nightmare, for within the blasphemous architecture of the creature’s visage was something familiar, the noble features of a drow elf twisted almost beyond recognition stared out of that horrible face. Grummok’s mind quailed in the terrible light of truth; he had found Madame Hunnek at last.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Mar 7, 2003)

Here it is the final chapter in the latest Grummok installment. Enjoy all the tasty vileness. 

**************************************************

*Hunger Part III*

The beast that was Madame Hunnek waddled forward on elephantine legs, its breath rasping through the nightmarish abattoir of its mouth, stubby arms outstretched to enfold Grummok in a final lethal embrace. Grummok, momentarily stunned with the horrific realization of the beast’s identity suddenly remembered the bow he held and his purpose for seeking out Madame Hunnek. The gargoyle could scarcely imagine what sort of atrocities Hek had been subjected to under the ministration of such a being. 

Grummok shot Madame Hunnek as she lurched forward, snapping off three arrows in rapid succession. Each arrow pierced her swollen flabby body with a flash of blue light and she howled in pain and outrage. Black ichor oozed from the arrow wounds to mingle with the mucus like slime that covered Hunnek’s body, but Grummok knew that the wounds were only superficial. 

Hunnek had closed within twenty feet of Grummok her eyes smoldering with rage and hunger, the three arrows jutting from her flesh were nothing more than a petty annoyance, failing to pierce the layers of fat that swathed her body and damage anything vital. Grummok was hurriedly nocking another arrow to his bow when Hunnek launched a ranged attack of her own. Leaning forward and stretching her mouth wide she voided a great gout of vomit in a disgusting stream of bile and half digested flesh. Grummok, unprepared for such an attack, dropped to the ground and rolled away from the stream barely avoiding the horrendous substance. Drops of the sickening fluid struck the gargoyle’s skin as he rolled burning like liquid fire and leaving deep-pitted scars in Grummok's stony integument. The reek that arose from the voided bile and flesh covered the immediate area in a greenish cloud of noxious gas. Grummok could barely breathe from the stink and beat his wings frantically to push the terrible stench away from his body. 

Grummok’s wings managed to keep the gas at bay but did nothing to deter Madam Hunnek who came barreling through the noxious cloud, mouth agape. Grummok tried to bring his bow up and fire at the charging behemoth but it was nocked from his grasp as Hunnek’s titanic body slammed into him, knocking the gargoyle prone. Madam Hunnek pounced like a great fleshy cat upon the supine gargoyle pinning him beneath her mammoth bulk and lowering her great maw to end his struggling.

Grummok was pinned but far from helpless and his teeth were just as lethal as Madame Hunnek's. As Hunnek lowered her head Grummok brought his own up and under her chin latching onto the folds of flesh hanging from her neck. The gargoyle sank his needle-like teeth through layer upon layer of fat almost gagging on the acrid taste of Madame Hunnek’s foul blood. Hunnek loosed an ear-splitting screech as Grummok chewed into her neck and rose from the floor freeing the gargoyle's arms and legs. Freed from underneath Hunnek's mass, Grummok brought his taloned hands and feet up latching onto Hunnek with every appendage while she writhed in agony attempting to dislodge the dogged gargoyle. 

Grummok chewed through the layers of Madame Hunnek' flesh, clinging tenaciously with every ounce of strength he could muster while she pounded on his body with her massive fists. Despite the pain and Hunnek’s shaking Grummok could not be dislodged and his efforts were rewarded by the warm arterial flood of her severed carotid as his teeth finally cleared the layers of protective fat around her neck. The strength of Hunnek’s flailings immediately flagged and Grummok felt her knees buckle but still he clung, his teeth plowing an ever widening wound into her flesh. Finally the last of Hunnek’s vitality fled her mortally wounded body and she collapsed to the ground with a meaty thud, Grummok perched on top of her colossal corpse. 

Grummok unlocked his jaws from Hunnek’s neck, stumbled away from her bloated body, fell to his knees and spewed the contents of his stomach onto the cracked stone floor in one giant heave. When the gargoyle had recovered he got shakily to his feet wiping vomit and what remained of Hunnek's foul smelling blood from his mouth. Grummok stared at Hunnek’s inert form unable to comprehend what could have brought on such a transformation. He surmised that this temple and the blasphemous deity it was connected with surely had something to do with Hunnek's bizarre transfiguration. The clerics of Lolth would be very interested to hear that an unsanctioned temple to an unknown deity lay just beneath their feet. Grummok felt sure that the fervent servants of Lolth would see to the destruction of this unholy place and by doing so put an end to the Fairer Flesh brothel. 

His thirst for vengeance slaked at last, Grummok removed a torch from one of the many sconces lining the temple wall and gathering up his bow retreated from Madame Hunnek’s temple back into the darkness from which he came.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Mar 8, 2003)

Well if you are not too disgusted by Grummok's battle with Madame Hunnek, then maybe you will want to see the prestige class I created that got her so icky. 

I didn't use a lot of her special powers because I didn't want the installlment to drag on any longer (5000 words plus already  ) than it did.

This is a "vile" prestige class and is not really intended for PC's, but if your campiagn would be enriched with having 800 pound homicidal glutton PCs running around, then go for it.  

Dirge

**************************************************

*The Ravenous of Laogzed*

The power of hunger can be absolute, a gnawing devotion to gluttonous indulgence that can twist the mind and the body. To some the power of hunger and the act of devouring is the ultimate assertion of one’s will upon another. Hunger taken to its most vile extreme has produced a new order of beings, devoted only to the ever-present insistence of their own twisted appetites. These foul individuals are known as the Ravenous of Laogzed.

Originally a perverse sect of troglodytes who, in honor of their disgusting patron deity (Laogzed the Devourer) adopted a new dogma that centered around strengthening one’s own power by consuming the flesh of others. The bodies of these twisted troglodytes became bloated and foul and soon they attracted the attention and the favor of Laogzed, acquiring horrible powers in the process. It is said that the Ravenous of Laogzed could eat anything, including their own bodies, to power their unholy gifts. Laogzed’s favor, however, came with a terrible price. No longer could the Ravenous find sustenance from anything other than the freshly slain corpse of a sentient being. Without the flesh of intelligent creatures to fuel their ungainly bodies the Ravenous quickly degenerate and die. 

Recently, the cult of the Ravenous had spread from beyond the subterranean realm of the troglodytes to the world at large. Gluttonous creatures everywhere are beginning to hear the call of Laogzed and the foul deity, not usually known for its ambition, is slowly adding to the number of its followers. Humans and dwarves seem to be the most common of the standard races to adopt the ways of the Ravenous as the greed inherent in the two races makes them likely candidates for gluttony. Most of the Ravenous are drawn from the ranks of fighters and barbarians as their combat abilities are only complimented by the gifts of hunger. Former spellcasters are rare, as are rogues as the former lose the ability to advance their magical studies and the grotesque obesity of the Ravenous tends to impede the abilities of the latter.

*Hit Die:* d10

*Requirements* 
To become a Ravenous of Laogzed a character must fulfill all of the following criteria:

*Alignment:* Any Evil
*Base Attack Bonus:* +6
*Feats:* Thrall to Demon (Laogzed), Willing Deformity, Deformity (Obesity)
*Knowledge (Religion):* 3 ranks
*Craft (Cooking):* 5 ranks
*Special:* In a ceremony lasting over three days the would be Ravenous of Laogzed must consume the entire body of a sentient humanoid, keeping the victim alive as long as possible.

*Class Skills*
The Ravenous of Laogzed’s class skills (and the key ability for each) are Climb (Str), Craft (Int), Disguise (Cha), Intimidate (Cha), Knowledge (religion) (Int), Listen (Wis), Search (Int), Spot (Wis) and Wilderness Lore (Wis). 

*Skill points at each level:* 2 + Int modifier 

Class Features
All of the following are class features of the Ravenous of Laogzed prestige class. 

Weapon and Armor Proficiency: The Ravenous of Laogzed gains no additional proficiency in weapon and armor.

*Meat is Murder:* On becoming one of the Ravenous of Laogzed the character loses the ability to draw sustenance from anything but the flesh of a recently-slain sentient creature. The Ravenous must devour at least one intelligent creature of small size (or greater) per week to maintain his massive girth and special powers. A Ravenous that fails to meet these criteria loses one constitution point per day until he satisfies his perverse hunger.

*Curse of the Ravenous I:* At various stages of their advancement the Ravenous of Laogzed undergo hideous transformations. At 1st level the change is not completely evident as most of the changes occur inside the body. The character's stomach grows to quadruple its normal size to allow for the intake of greater quantities of food, and his digestive fluid become much stronger to allow the consumption of bone and other normally inedible substances. At this level the Ravenous will appear “pot bellied” and his flesh will began to take on a sickly greenish hue.

*Curse of the Ravenous II:* At 5th level the Ravenous begins to take on the appearance of his vile patron Laogzed. The character’s skin begins to constantly ooze a thick caustic substance allowing the Ravenous to inflict an extra 1d4 acid damage with any unarmed or natural attacks. In addition, the slime is so thick that it adds a +2 natural armor bonus to the Ravenous’ armor class. A sickening stench of decay and offal now surround the Ravenous at all times and due to this and his now horrendous form he receives a –2 circumstance penalty to Charisma.

*Curse of the Ravenous III:* At 10th level the Ravenous of Laogzed again undergoes a monumental physical change, doubling in size and developing a thick scaly skin. The character’s size increases one step with all appropriate bonuses and penalties and his scales add another +2 natural armor bonus. Most of this size increase is due to layer upon layer of fat, and the now-bloated clumsy form of the Ravenous suffers a 10 ft reduction in speed as well as a -2 penalty to dexterity. The penalty to dexterity is in addition to the dexterity penalty incurred from increasing a size category. The change in size will also advance the Ravenous’ bite attack to 2d8.

*Maw of Laogzed:* The jaws of most humanoids are not designed for the bone cracking, flesh-gulping work that a Ravenous of Laogzed must undertake. So the devotees of hunger develop an ever-growing maw lined with sharp flesh shearing teeth, to better serve their gluttony. At 1st level and every odd level after, the Ravenous of Laogzed’s mouth widens and expands to allow him to rip chunks of flesh from his victims and gulp them down. At 1st level he gains a bite attack for 1d4 point of damage that increases one die step every other level.

*Autophagia:* There is power in flesh and the Ravenous of Laogzed learn to harness this power at an early stage, even if the flesh must come from their own bodies. At 2nd level the Ravenous may bite off and devour a chunk of his own flesh as a standard action, allowing him to enter into a berserk fury identical to a barbarian's rage ability. The rage lasts for 4 + the Ravenous’ new constitution modifier. Using this ability inflicts 1d6 points of damage on the Ravenous and he may use the ability 1/day at 2nd level and one additional time per day at 4th, 6th, 8th and 10th. 

*Scent:* The Ravenous gains the scent ability at 4th level.

*Necrophagia:* Continuing to learn the powers locked with the flesh of all beings the Ravenous may consume the flesh of an undead creature to take on some its characteristics for a short time. The flesh must come from a recently “slain” corporeal undead and the Ravenous must consume at least half of the corpse. After the undead flesh has been eaten, the Ravenous gains all the immunities described under the undead monster type. The immunities last for 1 hour per Ravenous level. The Ravenous gains this power at 6th level.

*Vile Bile:* At 8th level the Ravenous gains the ability to make a truly revolting and deadly attack. When pressed, the Ravenous can spew forth the contents of his cavernous stomach in a disgusting stream of bile and half-digested flesh. The stream is 15 feet long and inflicts 1d4 points of damage per Ravenous level to anything in its path. What’s worse, the caustic vomitus gives off a nauseating carrion stench that acts as a stinking cloud spell centered on the Ravenous. The stench lasts for 1 round per Ravenous level and has no effect on the Ravenous himself. The Ravenous of Laogzed can use his vile bile attack once per day.

*Omniphagia:* At 10th level the Ravenous can literally eat anything. Metal, wood, and even highly dangerous substances like acid or alchemist’s fire cause the Ravenous no discomfort. The power of hunger has gone well beyond the confines of flesh now, and the Ravenous may draw upon the very essence of anything he eats. The Ravenous may take on the characteristics of any type of creature now just as he did with undead at 5th level by using the Necrophagia power. If for instance, the Ravenous were to devour at least half of the corpse of a dretch, he would gain the benefits normally associated with tanar’ri and outsiders.  In fact, the Ravenous’ own subtype would change to “outsider” for one hour per Ravenous level. With the exception of undead, this power only works on living creatures. A Ravenous might eat a golem but he would not take on the characteristics of a construct.


         Base
         Attack Fort   Ref   Will
Level Bonus Save Save Save Special

1st +1 +2 +0 +0  Meat is Murder, Maw of Laogzed 
                            (1d4), Curse of the Ravenous 
2nd +2 +3 +0 +0  Autophagia
3rd +3 +3 +1 +1  Maw of Laogzed (1d6)
4th +4 +4 +1 +1  scent
5th +5 +4 +1 +1  Maw of Laogzed (1d8), Curse of the Ravenous II
6th +6 +5 +2 +2  Necrophagia
7th +7 +5 +2 +2  Maw of Laogzed (2d6)
8th +8 +6 +2 +2  Vile Bile
9th +9 +6 +3 +3  Maw of Laogzed (2d8), 
10th +10 +7 +3 +3 Omniphagia, Curse of the Ravenous III


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## BLACKDIRGE (Mar 14, 2003)

*Grummok (age 91):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn9; CR 17; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+13d6+90; hp 174; Init +9; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (perfect); AC 30 (+6 Dex, +4 natural, +7 studded leather armor, +3 ring); Atk +23 melee (1d6+7/19-20 x2, 2 claws), +18 melee (1d6+2, bite), +18 melee (1d6+2 gore) or +21/+16/+11 melee (1d4+9/17-20 x2, _+4 keen distance fleshgrinding dagger_) or +23/+18/+13 ranged (1d6 plus 1d6 shock +5/ crit x3, _+3 shock mighty composite shortbow (Str 14))_; SA sneak attack +7d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked, +1 vs. traps), +4 saves vs. poison, DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +17, Ref +18, Will +9; Str 20, Dex 24, Con 22, Int 18, Wis 12, Cha 12.

_Skills (127 pts):_ Bluff +10, Craft (poison making) +12, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +13, Gather Information +12, Hide +30, Intimidate +6, Listen +12, Move Silently +25, Open Lock +13, Search +12, Sense Motive +10, Spot +12, Tumble +17.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative, Improved Critical (claws), Two Weapon Fighting   
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions:_ +4 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, wire garrote, ring of advanced magic fang +2, belt of giant strength +6, +4 keen distance fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, ring of protection +3, head band of intellect +2, gloves of dexterity +6, ring of minor elemental protection (fire), amulet of the zephyr, +3 shock mighty composite shortbow (Str 14), 20 +3 arrows

*Assassin Spells Prepared: (3/3/2/2; save DC 14 + spell level):* 1st -- _change self, angry ache, obscuring mist_. 2nd – _alter self, darkness, pass without trace_. 3rd – _invisibility, sadism_ 4th – _improved invisibility, dimension door_

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 23) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

Five years of relative peace have passed for the master assassin Grummok; he has left the assassin’s guild and now resides in an exquisite manse in the Ghetto of Artisans. Although he continues to ply his deadly trade Grummok has distanced himself from the guild and its master as relations between himself and Jen Kedar Everhate have become strained of late. The gargoyle's reputation had eclipsed Jen Kedar’s own and a bitter rivalry has flamed to life between the two assassins that Grummok fears may blossom into a lethal confrontation. 

Removing himself from the immediate attention of Jen Kedar has cooled the rivalry somewhat but Grummok continues to operate as the city’s top assassin. Jen Kedar has not questioned Grummok’s somewhat freelance activities and the gargoyle has taken pain’s to keep illicit transactions as secret as possible. 

Hek has remained at the assassin’s guildhall and much to Grummok’s dismay has been taken under the wing of Jen Kedar as if the human were being groomed as a protégé. Hek has not aged gracefully and his mind; somewhat damaged from his grueling ordeal as a child has become twisted and bizarre. The human has become distant, prone to erratic behavior and bouts of wild uncontrollable rage. Grummok experienced Hek’s growing dementia for the first time, shortly after his horrific encounter with Madame Hunnek. The gargoyle had planned on keeping his murder of Hunnek a secret from Hek but on a night when the human has sunk into the depths of depression, Grummok mentioned that the terrible Madame Hunnek would harm no child ever again. Hek had flown into a rage when Grummok finally recanted the entire tale and Grummok had to restrain the human for fear he would injure himself. Grummok was dumbfounded by Hek’s reaction, Madame Hunnek had certainly been haunting Hek’s dreams for years and now that she was dead Hek was not soothed in the least. Harsh words were exchanged between the two friends when Hek had gathered his wits enough to speak and Grummok has barely spoken to the human in the five years since.

Alone again Grummok has kept himself busy by monitoring Hek and has found that his former friend and apprentice has been very active. Hek is nearly sixty years old but his elven heritage keeps him vigorous and he is still a formidable assassin. But Hek’s deteriorating mental state has made him reckless and Grummok, who has invisibly monitored many of his former students recent kills, has cleaned up more than a few messes the aging professional has carelessly left in the open. Hek is unaware of Grummok’s aid and the gargoyle’s seriously doubts that it would be welcome in any case, but he fears for Hek as eventually the human may find himself in a situation that even Grummok cannot help him out of. 

The targets of Hek’s flurry of assassination also confound Grummok for they span a gamut of different lifestyles and stations. From one of the wealthiest merchants in the city to an orc warrior serving as a mercenary in the Ghetto of Chattels, the victims seem to have little in common beside the mutual bad luck of having an enemy wealthy enough to hire Hek as an assassin. All of the targets were murdered in Hek’s usual style, the assassin would find them in their homes or some other secluded location and quickly slay them with a dagger thrust from the shadows. Hek had always been a merciful butcher, killing his victims with as little suffering as possible and Grummok was glad to see that at least this had not changed. 

Grummok still has many contacts within the assassin’s guild and they supply him with information on almost everything that occurs within the secretive society. Grummok was intrigued to learn that many of the current contracts were being handed down by Jen Kedar himself and included many strange and unusual targets. Grummok had learned over his long career as an assassin that most of his victims were the result of failed business negotiations or those that had offended the ruling clergy or aristocracy. In short most of those that found their lives ending on the point of assassin’s dagger had little reason to suspect who had sent the deadly emissary to their doorstep. According to Grummok's contacts many of the more recent targets were not of the usual type at all, including musicians, artists, inn keepers and even a few beggars, not the type who could typically afford or even be in a position to make the kind of enemy that would bring the assassin’s guild into the picture. Grummok also learned that Hek had been spending much of his time with Jen Kedar Everhate, and that the guild-master had made him second in command. The gargoyle also learned that Hek’s devotion to the guild-master bordered on fanatical and that he had even slain a young assassin who had dared speak ill of the powerful Jen Kedar. All of these things combined worried Grummok immensely. Something monumentous was happening within the guild and Hek was firmly embroiled in it. The gargoyle would not discover the horrible truth of the matter until one fateful night found him tailing Hek once again from the shadows. 

Grummok had learned through his contact at the assassin’s guild that Hek had been handed an assignment of great importance. A contract had been taken out on Jevezen Despana, the third daughter of the noble house of the same name. Jevezen was an accomplished sorcerer and was a bit of a black sheep in her family. She did not live on the family estate instead having moved into the luxurious manse of the murdered Genasi sorcerer Vastinus Firecloak, who ironically enough had been killed by none other than Hek himself. Grummok had monitored Jevezen’s activities as soon as he knew of the contract on her head. The drow noble typically went nowhere unless escorted by at least four guards, all of them powerful warriors. Her home was guarded by no less than six of these elite drow soldiers and to compound the difficulty of gaining access to her home it was rumored that Jevezen was an expert at constructing magical traps. It was a difficult assignment to say the least and Grummok, who had trained Hek, wondered if the aging assassin could pull it off. 

Grummok surmised that Hek would strike at Jevezen at her home since he was familiar with the layout of the manse and Grummok found a suitable perch to watch for his old friend. Jevezen’s manse lay upon the Player’s Lane in the Ghetto of Artisans and coincidentally stood across the street from one of Grummok’s favorite taverns, the Lady Eight, and it was on the roof of this tavern that the gargoyle kept his watch. 

Grummok did not have to wait long, the gargoyle’s keen eyes spotted Hek’s shadowy from moving along the outer fence of Jevezen’s manse on is third day of his vigil. Grummok watched Hek work his way along the fence completely unnoticed by the two guards that stood watch at the gate. The human assassin moved with the stealth of a shadow and Grummok was filled with an almost paternal sense of pride at the oiled grace with which Hek slid along the outer perimeter of Jevezen’s home. When Hek was roughly thirty feet from the gate he suddenly disappeared from sight eliciting a smile from Grummok who hastened to cast an invisibility spell of his own. Obscured from sight the gargoyle vaulted into the air and sailed over the fence surrounding Jevezen’s manse landing softly and silently twenty feet from the front door. 

The front door of the manse was unguarded, or at least it was now. The body of one of Jevezen’s guards lay sprawled across the walkway leading up to the house. The drow warrior’s throat had been cut from behind but there had been very little blood for the wound had been cauterized by Hek’s magically heated dagger, the very one he had taken off of the former owner of the Jevezen’s home. Grummok shook his head in disbelief that Hek would leave such damning evidence of his presence out in the open like this. The gargoyle scooped up the body and deposited the corpse in one of the decorative beds of fungi that lined the house. So far the two assassins had remained undetected but Grummok wondered how long that would last with Hek’s obvious recklessness.

Grummok followed the crushed stone walkway up to the front door of the manse and found it hanging open, another indication of Hek’s erratic behavior. Grummok slipped inside and silently pulled the door closed behind him. The foyer was as Grummok remembered it, a small square room tiled in green marble featuring a wrought iron staircase winding up to the second floor. A shot hallway led off to the north containing four doors evenly spaced down its length and more indication of Hek’s handiwork was in evidence. Sprawled face up near the foot of the staircase was another guard; he had been stabbed in the eye, Hek’s enchanted dagger pushed through the eye socket and into the brain beyond. The guard’s half-melted eye had run down his face in a trail of blood and ocular fluid and his mouth was frozen in a surprised “O”. There was little Grummok could do to hide this body so he made his way upstairs to see if Hek had finished his assignment or had finally been caught by Jevezen or her guards. 

The spiral staircase rose through the floor of the second level of Jevezen’s manse opening into an opulently furnished sitting room. Two hallways ran east and west featuring numerous doors leading to any number of other chambers. Grummok was considering which way to go when the thunderous blast of offensive magic echoed throughout the building followed by a ringing curse in drowish. The spell and the curse had come from the west hallway that ended in a large elaborate set of double doors. Grummok raced down the hallway reaching the double doors in seconds. The gargoyle could hear the sounds of combat within and opened the door a crack to peer through.

The room was obviously Jevezen’s bedroom, it contained a large round bed that could easily hold four or five people of Jevezen’s size, numerous couches and armoires and a tall bookcase with glass doors. The bed was covered in silk linens now tangled and blood spattered and the body of naked drow man sprawled in the center of the grand bed his intestines spilling from a huge gash across his abdomen. Jevezen Despana, also naked, stood to one side of the bed mouthing the words to a spell while another of her guards, this one fully armored, dueled with Hek. Jevezen, whom Grummok had only seen from a distance, was a vision of drow loveliness with long white hair that fell past her shoulder in a cascade of silken perfection. Tall for a drow elf, her sleek form contained generous curves of soft lustrous black flesh that awoke a hunger in Grummok he had not indulged in some time. Mistress Despana’s face, even twisted in anger, was fine and delicate with large almond shaped eyes, full generous lips and the cultured grace of drow nobility. 

His gray hair hanging in a sweat soaked tangle around his face, Hek slashed at the drow guard with a dagger in each hand. The drow had a thin bladed longsword and a buckler and was slowly giving ground to Hek’s whirlwind of dagger strikes. Mistress Despana suddenly completed her spell, and an arc of blue lightning flashed from her outstretched fingertip. Hek avoided the bolt with ease, rolling to the ground with the grace of a panther; the drow guard was not so lucky. Foolishly Jevezen had not counted on her spell missing its intended target, and as Hek rolled aside the guard who had been standing directly in front of him caught the full brunt of Jevezen’s magic. The bolt struck the surprised guard in the chest hurling him from his feet in a flash of azure sparks to lie in a crumple smoking heap some ten feet away. 

No longer having to worry about the drow guard Hek rolled to his feet and threw the dagger he held in his left hand with one smooth precise movement. The dagger buried itself to the hilt between Jevezen’s breasts knocking the wind from her lungs in an explosive grunt. Her eyes wide with shock the beautiful drow maiden clawed at the blade jutting from her body cursing and trying to intone the words to another spell. Hek gave her no chance and rushed across the room in a single surge of movement his flaming dagger flashing in a red tinged arc. Hek’s blade opened up Jevezen’s throat in a spray of arterial crimson and she sunk to the ground her face still frozen in surprise. 

Grummok watched Hek pull his dagger from Jevezen’s corpse and then the human did something most peculiar. The aged assassin hunkered down over his victim’s body and using his magically heated dagger began to carve something into her flesh. Hek worked quickly but his movements were sure and deft, it took him a few minutes to complete whatever he was doing and when he was finished he leapt to his feet and moved to the door. Grummok pulled back from his viewing post, hoping Hek would not notice that the door had been opened a crack. The human hurried through the door taking no notice of Grummok who stood invisible less than two paces away. He crept down the length of the hallway and Grummok watched him descend the spiral staircase and disappear from view. 

Burning with curiosity Grummok stepped into Jevezen’s chamber and moved over to her corpse. She was still beautiful even in death but as Grummok drew closer the icy grip of fear closed over his heart. Hek had cut a bizarre calling card into the canvas of Jevezen’s body. It was a symbol Grummok was quite familiar with and one he had thought never to see again. Burned into Mistress Despana’s ebony flesh was the stylized head of a fly, the sigil of the arch-devil Baalzebul.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Mar 24, 2003)

Ok here is the first part of the final installment of Grummok. Sorry for the delay. The installment will probably be in three parts give or take especially if the literary diarrhea I am prone to sets in.  

Dirge

***************************************************

*Scourge of the Archfiend, Part I*

*Grummok (age 98):* Male Gargoyle Rog 4/Asn10; CR 18; Medium Magical Beast; HD 4d10+14d6+96; hp 183; Init +11; Spd 45 ft., fly 75 ft. (perfect); AC 30 (+6 Dex, +4 natural, +7 studded leather armor, +3 ring); Atk +23 melee (1d6+7/19-20 x2, 2 claws), +18 melee (1d6+2, bite), +18 melee (1d6+2 gore) or +21/+16/+11 melee (1d4+9/17-20 x2, _+4 keen distance fleshgrinding dagger_) or +23/+18/+13 ranged (1d6 plus 1d6 shock +5/ crit x3, _+3 shock mighty composite shortbow (Str 14)_); SA sneak attack +7d6, death attack, poison use; SQ darkvision 60 ft., uncanny dodge (Dex to AC, can’t be flanked, +2 vs. traps), +5 saves vs. poison, DR 15/+1, freeze, evasion; AL NE; SV Fort +17, Ref +19, Will +9; Str 20, Dex 24, Con 22, Int 18, Wis 12, Cha 12.

_Skills (135 pts):_ Bluff +10, Craft (poison making) +14, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +13, Gather Information +12, Hide +30, Intimidate +6, Listen +12, Move Silently +25, Open Lock +15, Search +12, Sense Motive +12, Spot +14, Tumble +19.
_Feats:_ Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (claw, bite, gore), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Initiative, Improved Critical (claws), Two Weapon Fighting, Ambidexterity   
_Languages:_ Undercommon, Terran, Drow
_Possessions: +4 shadowed studded leather armor, boots of elvenkind, ring of advanced magic fang +2, belt of giant strength +6, +4 keen distance fleshgrinding dagger, +2 dagger, ring of protection +3, head band of intellect +2, gloves of dexterity +6, ring of minor elemental protection (fire), amulet of the zephyr, +3 shock mighty composite shortbow (Str 14), 20 +3 arrows_
_Assassin Spells Prepared:_ (3/3/3/2; save DC 14 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache, obscuring mist. 2nd – alter self, darkness, pass without trace. 3rd – invisibility, sadism, nondetection 4th – improved invisibility, dimension door

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack:* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 24) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

Grummok has defeated many foes in his long and storied life but the reach of these fallen enemies sometimes extends from beyond the grave. The face of Shebon Mot has haunted Grummok these past weeks since the death of Mistress Despana. The cruel and perverse drow assassin had been Grummok’s mentor and one of Hek’s tormentors at the fairer flesh brothel. The vile drow was also the head of a secret cult devoted to the archdevil Baalezebul, a cult whose members were slain one by one by Grummok himself. The gargoyle assassin thought never to see the fly head sigil of Baalzebul again but the arch devil has a long reach and much influence and has now resurfaced at the hand of Grummok’s former friend and apprentice, Hek.

Grummok is now truly tormented, for he knows that his former friend is not the man he once was and his association with Baalzebul has certainly pushed his fragile mind over the brink of madness. Hek was always a merciful assassin, never causing pain unnecessarily but the wanton pleasure Hek seemed to take in dispatching Mistress Despana was much more akin to Grummok’s own style of murder than the aging human’s. It is said the Baalzebul is the prince of lies and the gods only know what promises were whispered in the secret darkness of Hek’s mind that lead him to join with the vile fiend. Grummok understood how Hek could be coerced to aligning himself with the arch-devil as the human’s mental state was anything but stable, but what puzzled him was how did Hek even come into contact with one of the devil’s minions? As far as Grummok knew the cult of Baalzebul in Erelhei-Cinlu was stamped out with the death of Shebon Mot and the actions taken by the gargoyle himself to find and slay every member of the secretive group. It was of course possible that Grummok was not able to find all of the devotees of Baalzebul but why had the cult waited until now to resurface, and why Hek?

Grummok surmised that a powerful follower of Baalzebul must have risen in the city and it was he or she that poisoned Hek’s mind with the arch-devil’s lies. The gargoyle marshaled all of his considerable resources into locating this new source of cult activity in the city. Grummok’s vast network of spies and informants were bent to the task but after weeks of searching all retuned empty handed. Frustrated by the lack of success on the part of his hirelings Grummok took matters into his own hands sought aid from the wisest being in the city, Matron Mother Kezekia Tormtor, high cleric of Lolth and the single most powerful spellcaster in Erelhei-Cinlu. Under normal circumstances it would be impossible for Grummok to obtain an audience with the Matron Mother but the gargoyle had provided many useful services for house Tormtor in the past including the removal of their wayward elderboy and weapon master Azakai Tormtor. Matron Kezekia had been very pleased with Grummok’s efficiency and discreetness in the murder of her son and had promised the gargoyle, in addition to the princely sum she paid for the assassination, a single favor. Grummok had reason now to call in that favor and after a week of speaking through various intermediaries was granted an audience with the powerful Matron Mother. 

The noble houses of Erelhei-Cinlu ruled their city from on high, away from the madness and degradation that plagued the metropolis below. From their exquisite manses clustered upon a huge shelf of rock that jutted out over the city the eight noble houses vied for power and fought a never-ending battle of secretive assassinations and political sabotage. House Tormtor, led by the venerable Matron Mother Kezekia, held the much-coveted position of first house and in theory if not in actual practice the remaining noble houses owed her their fealty. Grummok had no illusions concerning the danger he would be in when visiting the Tormtor compound, drow nobles were unpredictable at best and murderously insane at worst. 

When the troop of house guard arrived to escort him to the Tormtor compound Grummok had already layered himself in every type of protective magic he had ready access to. Long lasting spells that increased his strength, stamina and reflexes had been cast as well as magic to hedge out mind control and mental domination. The gargoyle was of course not allowed to go armed but Grummok was far from helpless without his weapons, his formidable talons and teeth were just as vicious as any drow blade.  

Surrounded by Tormtor house troops Grummok was led through the city to the heavily guarded Noble Gate, the only mundane entrance to the cluster of manses and compounds held by the rulers of the city. Beyond the gate a narrow tunnel climbed steeply through the bedrock finally opening up onto the colossal rock shelf that over looked the city of Erelhei-Cinlu. The view was breathtaking, the city below spreading out in all its malicious magnificence, a grim testament to the lasting power of the drow.

The Tormtor compound was located next to the Fane of Lolth; the grand temple dedicated to the spider queen in all her fiendish glory, and was the single largest structure in the entire area. Surrounded by a soaring wall of shining adamantine the Tormtor domain was a sight to behold, a singular accomplishment of drow architecture the spiraling turrets and towers of the structure seemed almost too delicate to attain the height and splendor they achieved. Although chaotic in design a single graceful outline was evident in the buildings and towers that closely resembled a vast crouching spider. 

Grummok was lead through the massive gates of the compound as they screeched open in a discordant metallic howl. The battlements above were lined with drow soldiers and the gargoyle could feel the vast array of magical wards and protections that shrouded the entire area as an almost imperceptible prickling on his skin. Through myriad halls and spacious rooms Grummok was escorted finally to an opulent sitting room filled with beautiful furniture imported from the surface. A barren set of adamantine double doors dominated the north wall of the room their spartan utility looking very out of place in the splendor of the sitting room. Grummok was advised to stay in the room until he was summoned into the audience hall that lay beyond the double doors. The gargoyle did a he was told and reclined luxuriantly on a velvet padded divan to the obvious annoyance of the four guards that had been left to watch him. 

Grummok was left to wait for nearly an hour before the large double doors swung open soundlessly and a tall slim male drow armored in black chainmail strode through, his disapproving gaze finding the reclining Grummok almost immediately. The drow elf was of obvious noble birth, his high cheekbones and the delicate sweep of his brow and jaw lent an almost feminine quality to his aristocratic beauty. The ice blue eyes that scowled beneath the furrowed brow of the drow warrior marked him as one of the Tormtor sons and Grummok guessed by his lithe movements and the longsword at his hip that he had taken his brother Azakai’s position as weapon master. 

“My mother will see you now.” The drow elf said coldly and with every ounce of noble disdain he could muster. Grummok bit back a terse reply and simply smiled showing every one of his needle like teeth. The gargoyle took his time getting up from the divan he had been resting on and to his great amusement saw an almost childish pout of displeasure come over the drow elf’s features. When Grummok had gained his feet he followed the noble son of his host into the grand audience hall that lay beyond the sitting room. 

The audience hall was truly a kingly chamber, long and narrow the room was tiled in a mosaic of polished stone portraying a whirling discordant scene of Lolth battling, and slaying, the various members of the elven pantheon. Grummok thought the scene a bit optimistic at the very least. The hall was lit only be a faint purple glow from luminescent gemstones that had been worked into the stone of the ceiling lending the room a cramped and somewhat claustrophobic feel. The only furnishing in the room was at the very end of the hall, a grotesque throne of black adamantine shaped in the ghastly form of a rearing spider, and seated in the midst of the tangle of legs and fangs was the matron mother herself. 

Kezekia Tormtor was relatively young by drow elf standards to hold the power she did, but her ruthless tactics and keen intellect had lifted her to the pinnacle of drow society in a scant one hundred years. As Grummok and his escort neared the throne the gargoyle, who had only dealt with the matron mother through intermediaries, caught his first look at the powerful drow matron. Kezekia appeared to be more warrior than religious fanatic, she sat on her throne armored in a shining suit of mithral plate and her weapons, two heavily enchanted maces, dangling within easy reach, one on each hip. The short-cropped hair of the matron mother was strictly utilitarian; it did not get in the way in a fight and was much easier to wear under a helmet than the flowing locks of many drow women. Kezekia’s features were delicate and beautiful although her martial appearance lent a masculine air to the drow matron. The familiar ice blue eyes of the Tormtor line stared out from under Kezekia’s brow displaying no emotion but her lips, thin and unpainted, were stretched in an eager smile as Grummok drew near. 

“Well, we meet at last Grummok. I have truly been looking forward to this meeting. It is not everyday that we entertain the most dangerous assassin in Erelhei-Cinlu.” Kezekia said warmly, only the slightest hint of mockery in her smooth controlled voice. “Thedren, you may go.” The matron mother dismissed her son with a wave of her hand.

“Mother is that prudent, I do not wish to leave you unguarded with this…thing.” Thedren said, the intense hatred in his voice dripping from his words like poison. 

Kezekia turned her icy stare on her son and her words came out in a barely controlled whisper that left little doubt of the Matron’s ire. “Thedren, it is very unlikely that Grummok would seek to harm me, and do you really think that your mother is so feeble that she cannot defend herself if necessary?”

“No, I…” Thedren began, suddenly realizing that he had just questioned his mother’s judgment in front of a guest and would likely suffer for it.

“Go Thedren, before you truly invoke my wrath”, the matron mother’s eyes blazed as she delivered her final warning to her son. Thedren was no fool, and quickly turned on his heel making his way form the audience chamber with great haste. 

“Pardon my son, his words often out distance his wisdom.” Kezekia said, watching her son’s hurried retreat.

“No pardon is necessary. Should not a good son be worried when his mother is left unguarded with the city’s ‘most dangerous assassin’?” Grummok replied smiling.

“Yes, a good son would, but I fear his motivations or more from a hatred of you than for any concern for my safety. Thedren was oddly devoted to his older brother and no doubt his death at your hands has provoked my younger son’s animosity.” Matron Kesekia’s eyes took on an unsettling predatory leer that left as quickly as it came. “But, you came here not for a discourse in the politics of my inner family but to ask a boon, correct?”

“Yes, that is true. When last we spoke through your intermediaries you offered a favor for my efficiency and discreetness over the matter with your eldest son. I wish to collect that favor if it does not inconvenience you unnecessarily.” Grummok said humbly, his tone and demeanor were as subservient and respectful as he could make them.

“Let it not be said that Kezekia Tormtor is maker of idle promises, name your boon assassin and I will grant it if it is within my power.” 

“You are truly gracious Matron Mother, but before I presume upon your charity, I have brought a gift in thanks for the audience you have granted.” Grummok finished with a bow and awaited Kezekia’s approval or dismissal.

“A gift you say?” The matron mother’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise and suspicion. “That was not necessary, but I am not ungrateful. What have you brought me?"

With slow and careful movements Grummok reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew long object wrapped in black cloth. The object was far too large to fit into such a small space but the matron Mother seemed wholly unimpressed with Grummok’s magic pouch. Grummok removed the cloth from around the object to reveal a finely crafted mace of silvery mithral. The weapon was truly beautiful, balanced and weighted for the small hands of a drow female, but retaining its lethal utility. The flanged head of the mace was inscribed with various runes and sigils and the heavy enchantment that had been laid upon the weapon caused it to glow with a soft yellow luminance. 

“I have heard that you favor the mace in battle,” Grummok began, holding the mace out in the palms of both hands so the matron mother could see it clearly. “I came across this one in the vault of a duergar smith who no longer had a need for it.”

Kezekia’s eyes had lit up momentarily with eagerness at the sight of the mace, but had now resumed their icy indifference. “A fine weapon, I thank you. You may bring it forward.”

Grummok approached the throne slowly, the mace still held out in front of him. When he reached the foot of the throne Matron Kezekia stood and reached down taking the mace from Grummok's hands. Grummok stepped back as Kezekia examined the mace with eye of a skilled warrior and took a few practice swings. Kezekia seemed pleased with the weapon and held it out in front of her while she quickly chanted the words to a spell. When she had finished the mace glowed with a faint blue light that quickly faded and her eyebrows arched in surprise. “This is truly a princely gift, it would have fetched you a staggering sum on the open market. Your generosity will not be forgotten.” Kezekia sat down again hanging her new mace from a hook on her belt. “Now tell me why you have come.”

“I have come simply for information, nothing more” Grummok said as he stepped away from the throne settling himself roughly ten paces from the matron mother. “You are easily one of the most informed persons in the city and you expertise and guidance on this matter would be invaluable to me.” 

“What matter do you speak of that would require my sole attention, assassin.” Kezekia said showing obvious interest for the first time.

“The cult of Baalzebul has risen again,” Grummok said gravely. “ Years ago it was I that discovered the original cult and put its members to the sword. Recently an associate of mine has fallen under the sway of this vile sect but I fear a more powerful and influential follower of the archfiend led him astray. I know your resources are vast far greater than my own, I wish to know who is behind this resurgence of Baalzebul’s cult so that I can remove the scourge of this villainy from Erelhei-Cinlu once more.” Grummok took a deep breath as he finished his short request hoping against hope that the matron mother would know something, anything that might lead him in the right direction. Her answer was beyond his wildest expectations.

“Well, assassin this is almost too easy. I must confess that feel somewhat guilty after having accepted your fine gift to provide you with information I have had for some time now.” Kezekia said grinning hugely.

Grummok’s jaw fell open; he had certainly not expected the matron mother to already know the answer to his question.

“Don’t look so shocked Grummok, very little transpires in the city below that I do not know about. In fact I am somewhat surprised that you were not able to divine this answer for yourself. The leader of the cult of Baalzebul is one you have been close to for many years.” Kezekia chided. “Shebon Mot, whom you believed headed the cult was merely a servant of the true leader who used him to enforce the will of Baalzebul and provide a public face to the other cultists. The guild master Jen Kedar Everhate is and has always been the real power in the cult.”

Grummok was thunderstruck. Jen Kedar Everhate had trained Grummok himself, and although relations between the two had become strained of late the gargoyle had had no clue to the drow assassin’s real allegiance. “I do not understand, matron mother. The worship of Baalzebul is outlawed within the city, if you have known all this time why have you not stamped out Jen Kedar and his followers?”

Matron Kezekia scowled down at Grummok, “Things are not as easy as that, assassin. Jen Kedar is a very influential member in the city and not to mention the eldest son of House Everhate. If I were to move against him without proof it could very well incite a war between House Everhate and my own.” The predatory leer had resurfaced in Kezekia’s eyes as she spoke on. “But you my fine assassin are not under the same restrictions that I am. I believe you could solve this problem for the both of us. Find proof that Jen Kedar is a follower of Baalzebul and you will have my permission, nay my blessing, to do with him as you will. But remember you are not to move against Jen Kedar until you have obtained irrefutable proof that he has broken the laws of the spider queen. Do you understand, assassin?”

“Yes, matron mother. I have no wish to cause political inconvenience for your house and I thank you for providing me with this information. I will return as soon as I have collected the necessary proof.” Grummok said humbly.

“Be careful, Grummok. Jen Kedar is wily and dangerous. Do not let him get wind of your involvement or you will likely not live out the week.” Kezekia warned. “Now, go and return to me when you have enough evidence to damn Jen Kedar irrevocably.” The matron mother dismissed Grummok with a wave of her hand.

Grummok bowed and hurried from the audience chamber. The gargoyle’s mind was awhirl, he had not expected the windfall of information he had just received and the revelation of Jen Kedar’s involvement was shocking to say the least. As Grummok was escorted from the Tormtor compound the face of Hek loomed huge in the gargoyle’s mind. If Jen Kedar truly had lead Hek into the service of Baalzebul then he his suffering would be legendary even by the standards of Erelhei-Cinlu.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Apr 3, 2003)

Ok here is part two of the final installment. Only one more to go before the big finish. Hope you like.

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*Scourge of the Arch-Fiend, Part II*


Grummok's meeting with Kezekia Tormtor had left him reeling. The staggering revelation that Jen Kedar Everhate was the master of the Baalzebul cabal was surprising to say the least. And to make matters worse the guild master had been operating under Grummok’s careful scrutiny without that gargoyle having even the slightest hint of his nefarious activities. There was no doubt that Jen Kedar would have to be removed but Grummok was no fool and he knew that Jen Kedar was an assassin without peer. As eager as the gargoyle was to spill the drow assassin’s blood, he could not rush blindly in and brazenly challenge the guild master. Jen Kedar was far too wily for such a bold tactic and Grummok would likely be slain by the horde of sycophants and loyal retainers that surrounded Jen Kedar at all times. Even if he were to isolate the guild master, Grummok had serious doubts in his ability to defeat Jen Kedar in single combat. The last time anyone had tried that, the would be usurper found himself screaming until his throat bled in the vast dungeons beneath the guild house, as Jen Kedar’s master torturer wrung every last ounce of agony from the unfortunate soul before he was finally allowed the dignity of death. 

Grummok had no desire to end his days under the careful ministrations of torturer’s blade; therefore he would have to be very cautious when he finally made his move against Jen Kedar. Although rage and a burning need for vengeance threatened to consume the gargoyle, his mind, honed sharp by years of experience, worked in the slow and deliberate manner of a trained professional. If there were a way to topple Jen Kedar from his lofty perch then Grummok would find it, even if it took him years to do it. 

Another problem lurked on the horizon that Grummok had very little hope of resolving in a way that would grant him anything but pain and loneliness. Hek’s involvement in the vile cult of Baalzebul could not go overlooked and if Grummok were to take down Jen Kedar, Hek must follow his new master. The human had willingly sacrificed friendship and his future by accepting the fiendish patronage of the archfiend and Grummok knew that Hek’s sin would not go unpunished. Matron Kezekia would not strike at Jen Kedar directly for fear of retaliation from his noble house, but Hek had no such political shield to protect him. If Grummok did not deal with Hek himself then the misguided human would most likely spend the rest of his years beneath house Tormtor at the mercy of the cruel priestesses of Lolth. If Hek was to die it would be clean and quick and none would strike the final blow but Grummok. 

These thoughts weighed heavy on Grummok’s mind as he made his way from the Tormtor compound back to the city of Erelhei-Cinlu. The streets were thronging with all manner of humanoid detritus but all gave the brooding gargoyle a wide birth as he made the long trek back to the Ghetto of Artisans and his home. Upon reaching the sprawling manse that he had recently claimed as his own Grummok’s head became filled with a loud discordant ringing that rose up suddenly and then diminished to a quiet buzz in the back of his mind. Snapped from his brooding reverie the gargoyle was instantly alert for he instantly recognized the sudden noise in his mind as the magical alarm he had placed on his demesne. The alarm would sound if anyone other than Grummok entered the building and would warn the gargoyle silently when he was within one hundred yards of his home. 

Grummok’s home was a simple affair consisting of a single squat tower surrounded by a spiked iron fence. The tower was roughly forty feet in diameter and rose some thirty feet into the air. Constructed of polished granite the slick seamless sides of the tower were next to impossible to climb for all but the most skilled intruder. The top of the structure featured over a dozen stone statues very similar in size and shape to Grummok himself. The gargoyle could easily hide amongst these “faux gargoyles” seeming to be nothing more than a simple statue. There was but one visible entrance to the tower, from the gate a walkway of crushed white stones led up to a large set of ironbound oaken doors, which could be barred form the inside with a massive adamantine rod. Other hidden entrances and egresses also existed but were known only to Grummok.

The tower was apparently windowless but this was simply a clever magic facade. The windows of the tower, of which there were six evenly spaced about the upper floor, were masked by a simple glamer that allowed only those on the inside to see and see out of them. The widows them selves were constructed of magically hardened material known as “glasssteel” and were unbreakable by any means short of powerful magic. 

Somehow someone had gained entrance into Grummok’s domain, a place he thought all but impregnable. In addition to his magical silent alarm, Grummok had installed many deadly magical and mundane traps throughout his home. Only a very skilled rogue would be able to bypass those traps…or an assassin. Grummok grinned viciously standing outside the iron gate that led to his home. So Jen Kedar thought to strike first, did he? Grummok mused. The gargoyle was pleased that he would have someone to vent his frustration and anger on. He knew he had little to fear, for besides Jen Kedar himself there was not an assassin in the city that could even hope to match Grummok in stealth or skill at arms. And since Jen Kedar would not attack Grummok openly – the drow assassin would consider it uncouth – there was very likely a skilled but overconfident young assassin awaiting the gargoyle up there in the dark. Still smiling, Grummok launched himself into the air and alighted upon the roof of his tower. He would take his time with this one, the gargoyle thought viciously. 

Grummok moved among the statues on the top of his tower making his way to the very center of the stone rooftop. The statue closest to the center of the roof was a depiction of a drow priestess in full ceremonial dress. Grummok reached out and grasped one of the stone spider legs that mad up the statues elaborate headdress and with a barely perceptible movement rotated it slightly to the left. In answer to Grummok's manipulations a five-foot square of stone swung silently up on oiled hinges n the center of the roof. Grummok moved quickly to the shadowy aperture and soundlessly stepped into the darkness dropping from sight. Seconds after the gargoyle disappeared the stone lid of the hidden trap door closed as silently as it had opened leaving no trace of its existence. 

The top level of Grummok’s consisted of a single cavernous room, serving as an armory and trophy room for the gargoyle assassin. Lining the walls were dozens of enchanted weapons and armor all taken from past victims and arrayed here as grim testament to Grummok’s unrivaled skill and perseverance. Grummok’s own personal gear was kept in a large wall mounted case, trapped with every bit of nastiness the gargoyle’s fiendish mind could concoct. In fact the entire room was trapped both magically and with more mundane methods. Every single suit of armor and weapon displayed had some manner of trap upon it, running the gamut from poison gas to acid sprayers almost any conceivable creature could be effected and neutralized if not killed outright by at least one of the devilish contraptions. 

It was into this menagerie of trophies and carefully hidden death that Grummok descended. From his secret entrance on the rough that led to the trophy chamber the gargoyle dropped the twenty feet from the ceiling to the floor with barely a whisper of noise. The room was empty and as Grummok’s keen vision pierced the gloom that shrouded the chamber he noticed nothing out of miss. But something was wrong and the warning tingle of danger that he had learned to trust these many years jangled his nerves like an electric shock. The attack materialized from the very air itself and almost caught Grummok off his guard. The slightest whisper of a blade sliding from its sheath and the almost imperceptible sound of a sleeve rustling as the arm within moved to hurl that blade was like a thunderclap through the silence to Grummok’s ears.

The gargoyle whirled around as the missile sped towards him and with the speed of a striking serpent Grummok’s clawed had shot and slapped the incoming dagger from the air to send it clattering across the stone floor. Grummok’s assailant, who had been concealed by magical invisibility, had revealed himself due to the peculiar limitations of invisibility magic, which failed the instant its user made an aggressive attack through blade or spell. 

“Oh, Grummok. I was sure I had you there.” Hek’s voice was soft and slightly mocking and Grummok could here that quivering edge of madness wavering in the almost whispered tones. Hek stood against the west end of the room between two armor stands and was clutching a brace of throwing daggers in his left hand while his right cradled the magical fire dagger that had become his signature weapon. The human looked ill used; his haggard face was deeply lined and gaunt, framed by limp gray streaked hair that hung from his scalp in tangled snarls and clumps. The human assassin looked like he hadn’t slept in days and the slump of fatigue was painfully evident in his posture. But regardless of his appearance a fire burned in Hek’s eyes and Grummok had no doubt that the flames that fuelled Hek’s dementia would grant him all the strength and speed he would need. 

Grummok was currently armed only with his claws and teeth and he knew that Hek was a knife thrower without peer, able to unleash a barrage of daggers in mere seconds and with deadly accuracy. Hek had made no move to throw another dagger so Grummok carefully backed away from the human slowly making his way to the other end of the room and the rack of weapons that hung there. 

Grummok spoke as he moved trying to buy himself a few seconds before Hek attacked again. “Are you just Jen Kedar’s errand boy Hek, or do you satisfy his…other needs as well?” 

Hek smiled at Grummok’s barb, a thin and cruel stretching oh his lips that contained not a hint of amusement, and stepped away from the wall. “Jealous? I find it hard to believe that I once thought you to be some one worthy of emulation, Jen Kedar has shown me the error of that belief.” Hek’s flung another dagger at Grummok with a casual underhand movement to punctuate his last remark. The throw was almost half hearted and Grummok sidestepped the missile with ease.

“Jen Kedar is a fool, there is nothing in his future but death. Do you know Hek that house Tormtor is aware of your new master’s illicit ideology? How long do you think they will tolerate his little cult? The priestesses of Lolth are not known for their open minds when it comes to alternate forms of worship.” Grummok had reached the far end of the room and the weapons rack, the gargoyle snatched the first weapon he could get his hands on, a longsword that once belonged to a minor drow noble Grummok had slain over twenty years ago. The blade was unfamiliar but Grummok was not ignorant of the longsword and the enchanted blade would give him a very valuable reach advantage when the fighting began an earnest.  

“Ahh, you are of course referring to your tell all session with Matron Kezekia earlier today. Well, my old friend you needn’t worry yourself on my account, we are well protected from that pompous bitch.” Hek spat contemptuously. “Our master has much more influence in the city than you can possibly imagine, the Lord of Illusions will see his faithful through, have no doubt.” Hek had moved away from the wall and was casually advancing on Grummok, he had cast two of the three daggers he had had in his left hand and now held the last in a downward fighting grip. “Can you actually use that thing, Grummok?” Hek said raising his eyebrows at the longsword the gargoyle held in his right hand. 

“Come and see.” Grummok said casually and twirled the blade through the air in a showy “X” pattern. Hek complied with a grin and rushed the gargoyle leading with a backhanded slash with the flaming dirk he held in his right hand. Grummok let him come and blocked the obvious dagger slash with his sword while slapping Hek’s second blade, which was darting in under Grummok’s sword at his vulnerable midsection, away with the flat of his left hand. 

Hek disengaged immediately after his initial flurry ducking a return slash from Grummok’s sword as he tumbled away. Grummok let him pull back using the opportunity to scramble over to another weapons rack and pluck a small mithral buckler from the wall. Felling a little more confident against Hek’s twin blades Grummok moved in aggressively holding his buckler against his midsection and slashing furiously with his sword. Hek was a lighting blur of parries as his daggers turned aside each and every stroke of Grummok’s blade. The human assassin fought back fiercely turning his parries into ripostes and soon Grummok found himself backpedaling as Hek’s blades rang off his buckler and sword. Hek had always been fast but Grummok had learned through long association with the human the he relied upon his speed too much. This was not a detriment against a slower opponent but Grummok was anything but and as the gargoyle gave ground Hek became bolder and bolder leaving him more vulnerable after each attack. Most warriors would not be quick enough to take advantage of Hek’s split second oversights but Grummok’s keen eyes and finely honed reflexes were more than enough to turn the tide of battle.

As Hek darted in with a double thrust aimed at Grummok’s throat the gargoyle spun his body to the side allowing Hek’s thrust to sail past its target. Surprised by the sudden change in his rhythm Hek was momentarily off balance and his speed simply was not enough to retract his blades and vulnerable hands in time to save them from Grummok’s blade. The wickedly sharp drow longsword arced up in vicious undercut swing slicing clean through Hek’s right wrist and sending his severed hand, still clutching the flaming dagger, twitching to the ground. Grummok followed his cut by pivoting his body back to face Hek and slamming his buckler with all his might into the human’s stunned face. The crunch of cartilage and bone as Hek's nose and cheekbone shattered horribly loud in the echoing space of the trophy room. The force of Grummok’s blow knocked Hek of his feet where he lay in stunned silence blood jetting in crimson spurts form his ragged stump.

Grummok did not press his advantage, stepping back while Hek struggled to his knees cradling his savaged wrist to his chest. The humans face was quickly darkening with the swelling trauma inflicted by Grummok’s punch buckler. Hek’s eyes were vacant and distant as he tried to focus on his enemy; he still clutched a dagger in his left hand although the blade trailed listlessly from his slack left arm.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Grummok said, lowering his blade. There was a tiny hope within the gargoyle that some portion of the human’s former self remained. “The Tormtors want Jen Kedar they don’t care about you. Renounce whatever allegiance you have with Everhate and his master and I can protect you, but I cannot shield you from the clergy of Lolth if you do not turn away from Baalzebul.” Grummok paused, his words felt thick and slow and a colossal emptiness suddenly filled his heart and mind. He knew there was no other alternative than those that fate had placed firmly before him. “Hek, please don’t make me do this,” Grummok whispered, his voice filled with the agony that was now consuming him.

Hek had climbed to his feet; his face shattered face pale with the anemia. The white doublet he wore over his mail shirt was stained a deep maroon from his severed wrist and whatever strength had filled the tortured human before had fled leaving little more than a battered disheveled husk. “Protect me…” Hek mumbled. His words were barely intelligible through his smashed lips and broken teeth. “Protect me like you did from those beasts at the fairer flesh? I have never been anything but a tool for you, assassin.” Hek hissed the last word like it had bitten his tongue. “If there ever was anything but stone in your heart you would have never have left me in that terrible place to begin with. No, I want no part of your protection, gargoyle.”

Hek had begun shambling forward during his tirade, trailing a congealing line of blood across the floor. Grummok had lowered his sword and buckler watching the wounded human move towards him. Hek still held his dagger but it hung limply at his side seemingly forgotten. Grummok was almost taken in by Hek’s theatrics and was nearly skewered as the human suddenly lurched forward raising his dagger over his head to drive it into Grummok’s body while his defenses were momentarily lowered. The gargoyle reacted on pure instinct, his buckler came up to halt the course of the descending dagger while he stepped inside Hek’s defensive ring and drove his longsword clean through the human’s chest. Hek emitted a single guttural grunt as the keen drow blade transfixed him. The dagger Hek had been holding fell from nerveless fingers and he slid to the ground in boneless heap.

Grummok stared down at his bloodstained blade in horror and then flung the weapon across the room in disgust. There was no honor or gain in this slaying, only pain. Grummok knelt down beside the stricken human who was breathing slowly through bubbles of saliva and blood. The wound was mortal and as Grummok rolled Hek over onto his back, his heart nearly broke at the pitiful sight that lay before him. Gone was the twisted snarl of hatred and madness that had played across the human’s features earlier, the eyes had softened and the bruised face of his old friend once again held the gentle stoicism of the man he had come to know and trust. 

Grummok was no stranger to death, he had been the cause of hundreds but this slow spiral into the void that Hek was now experiencing filled him with nothing but fear and emptiness. The gargoyle scrabbled at his belt eventually producing a potion vile that held a strong curative he hoped might save Hek’s life. But as he bent over the human’s prostrate from to administer the potion, Hek raised his left hand and placed it gently on Grummok’s own. “No…” Hek whispered his voice straining with exertion. “Let it end, Grummok, let it end.” Grummok looked down at Hek in horror, the humans face was a mask of pain, pain that Grummok desperately wanted to soothe. “Too much…too much…” Hek muttered, and his hand fell away from Grummok’s. The gargoyle held the potion over his dying friend in an agony of indecision but Hek’s voice rose up once more to settle Grummok’s mind. “If ever…” Hek’s voice labored, “you were my friend, then let me rest…let me sleep…” Hek’s voice trailed away and a final hiss of escaping breath passed between his lips, his eyes clouded and the tortured soul of Hekendel Oakheart was finally at peace. 

Grummok rose to his feet and stared down at the battered from of his friend. There was nothing but cold and hollow misery now. Anger could not find a hold yet; the new emotion of grief still claimed Grummok for the time being. But rage would come; Grummok took some small solace in that. He would embrace his rage like a lover when it came and ride the vicious wave of madness that would welcomingly consume him directly to Jen Kedar Everhate’s doorstep. And then there would be pain, pain and vengeance.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Apr 17, 2003)

Ok, here it is the final installment of Grummok. I hope it doesn't dissapoint. Thanks to everyone who has read and responded to this thread. 

Dirge

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*Scourge of the Arch-Fiend. Part III*

Jen Kedar Everhate, guild master of assassins, stood naked to the waist his black skin glistening with sweat from the exertion of his intense training routine, which had just begun. The guildmaster’s body was trim and muscular and his dark skin was crisscrossed with dozens of raised scars, a testament to the harsh life he led. There were many training rooms in the assassin’s guildhall but the room that Jen Kedar now occupied was somewhat of a legend amongst the lower ranking members of the guild. Only Jen Kedar himself and a few other very powerful assassins trained here, including the gargoyle assassin Grummok when he was a member of the guild. The room was fairly simple, sixty feet square and floored with loose sand to provide traction and to soak up the results of bouts that went beyond simple training. The walls were lined with every conceivable weapon recreated in a variety of materials ranging from wood to a bizarre substance called vendarium, a creation of the duergar designed to be a “soft metal”. Vendarium simulated the feel and weight of real weapons but still retained the give and bluntness of other non-lethal materials. A few of these practice weapons were not practice weapons at all, but were the real thing cloaked in a magical illusion. Only Jen Kedar knew the location of all of these weapons and had on occasion used them to put down an overly ambitious training partner.

Jen Kedar trained and honed his already fearsome capabilities in this room for two hours every single day. He began his routine with a series of exercises and calisthenics designed to increase strength and flexibility and from there he trained in simulated combat with two to three midlevel assassins specially chosen for their specific strengths and weaknesses. It was a great honor in the guild to be chosen as a training partner for the guildmaster and those that performed well against Jen Kedar were often gifted with choice assignments. The two that faced Jen Kedar now were hopeful of just such a boon and the eagerness on their faces was as obvious as they stood before their leader for judgment. Both were young drow, one from a noble family and the other a fugitive from a noble family. The two drow were completely different in their approach to the assassin way of life and it was evident in their combat styles.

Mendrethek Vae was the eldest child of the new Matron Mother Sereska Vae who had taken up the position of leadership in her family after killing her mother who had grown old and weak. Mendrethek was a tall and lanky drow who had inherited his mother’s startling speed and keen wit. His features were delicate almost feminine and their were rumors throughout the city the Matron Vae could expect no grandchildren from her oldest son. Mendrethek favored speed over brawn in combat and wore no armor, relying on his buckler, speed and the magical protection devices he owned for defense. He was skilled with the rapier and favored it above all other weapons, finding its light weight and subtle stylishness to his liking.

The other young drow was the complete opposite of his training partner in almost every way. Drevek Sedeska was a hulking specimen of a drow, standing nearly six feet in height. His body was thick with layers of chorded muscle and his features were coarse and brutish. Drevek had begun his career as a soldier in the elite guard of house Despana before he caught the eye of Matron Despana’s youngest daughter Evekera. The two began a passionate love affair but when Matron Despana found out that her daughter was cavorting with a lowly guard she was less than pleased. In order to save her lover’s life Evekera arranged for Drevek to begin an apprenticeship in the assassin guild where he would be protected by Jen Kedar’s influence and reputation. Drevek readily agreed and found that his formal martial service served him very well throughout his initial training. Drevek still held to his soldier’s arms and armament favoring longsword and shield and a full suit of drow chain mail. 

Both drow were quite excited at the opportunity to test their skills against a master like Jen Kedar and with little fan fare the guild master beckoned for them to join him in the middle of the room. The guild master was not armed and wore no armor while his opponents held live steel weapons sharp and deadly. With a clap of his hands Jen Kedar signaled that the training bout was to begin. The two young drow glanced at each other and a silent message passed between them, Mendrethek nodded his head once and Drevek stepped forward to attack. Jen Kedar stood motionless waiting for Drevek to approach his hand at his sides, his face a blank slate. 

Drevek approached cautiously from the front raising his shield to eye level while cocking his longsword behind his back to hide it from view and to give his foe no indication which direction a strike might come from. Drevek was a skilled warrior but he was simply not prepared for the grace and speed of his foe. The young drow took a step forward and launched an over hand strike at Jen Kedar’s head. The guild master responded with an almost casual grace, his right hand snaking up to catch the wrist of Drevek sword arm while he drove his left fist into the large muscle of Drevek’s leading leg. Drevek’s leg collapsed from the force of the blow sending the drow warrior to the ground with a muffled thud. The agony was plain on Drevek’s face as he clutched his wildly spasming quadricep desperately trying to quiet the battered muscle.

Jen Kedar stepped away from Drevek and motioned to Mendrethek, “Now you.” The lean drow assassin wasted no time lunging forward with a thrust that almost caught Jen Kedar off guard. The guildmaster spun away from Mendrethek’s blade at the last instant a small smile on his face and tumbled a few paces away from the young assassin. “Very good, Mendrethek. You use your speed well, “ the guildmaster complimented his underling. Mendrethek showed no sign of recognizing the praise and pressed his perceived advantage launching a lightning barrage of thrusts at his opponent. From the ground Drevek, who was still trying to massage the feeling back into his leg, watched in awe as Jen Kedar parried each of Mendrethek’s thrusts with the flat of his palms, slapping the blade just a hairs breadth off target so that it missed by mere inches. The speed at which Jen Kedar performed these parries was simply unbelievable, his hands a blur of frenzied activity, he almost seemed to suddenly sprout an extra set of arms to aid him in his task. 

Mendrethek too, was mystified that his blade had not even come close to striking the guildmaster and his split second hesitation as he pulled away from Jen Kedar was all the time the veteran assassin needed. Jen Kedar rushed forward and threw two open handed palm strikes at Mendrethek’s face, the young drow did exactly as Jen Kedar expected bringing his buckler and blade up to parry the strikes. This of course left his vulnerable abdomen exposed and Jen Kedar delivered a spinning back kick directly into Mendrethek’s stomach half a second after the drow noble had blocked Jen Kedar’s initial strikes. The force of the kick was enough to drive the wind from Mendrethek’s lungs and lift him off of his feet to land a few paces away on his back struggling to draw breath into his lungs. 

Jen Kedar stepped away from his two opponents to let them rest and regain their feet. Drevek got up first, limping a little from his still sore leg. Mendrethek took considerably more time as his battered diaphragm struggled to release the strangle hold it had on his lungs. When he was finally able to breathe normally he climbed wearily to his feet dusting the sand from his leather leggings. Jen Kedar smiled thinly and motioned both assassins to approach. “Now both.” He commanded.

The two assassin were no more than an arm’s length apart as they approached the guild master and both were caught completely unaware by what happened next. Jen Kedar saw the air between the two young assassins' suddenly blur and then darken and before he could shout out a warning Grummok had already begun his attack. It was a picture perfect assassination, quick and completely unexpected. The gargoyle was armed with two daggers one of which glowed red with magical flame. Before either of the two assassins’ could react to the sudden appearance of this new foe, it was far too late. Grummok opened up Drevek’s throat with the a wide slash of the dagger he held in his left hand completing the motion by spinning around and driving the flaming dagger he held in his right hand up under Mendrethek’s chin, the enchanted blade shredding the flesh of the drow’s lower jaw and continuing through the roof of his mouth and finally into his brain. Both assassins went down immediately, Mendrethek was dead before he hit the ground while Drevek writhed around pitifully making horrid gagging noises as his life’s blood pooled around his dying body.

“Damn it! Grummok. Was the absolutely necessary!?” Jen Kedar scowled with irritation at the two corpses on the floor of his training room. “Those were two very promising students. What a waste.” The guildmaster finished with disgust. 

Grummok stood some ten feet from Jen Kedar and regarded his former guildmaster coldly. “More likely I have saved them from any further treachery from you.” The gargoyle said, his vice a rage soaked whisper.

Jen Kedar seemed not the least bit worried by the extremely dangerous assassin that had suddenly appeared in his inner sanctum. “How did you get in her Grummok, this is the single most guarded room in the entire city?” The guildmaster asked casually, ignoring Grummok’s initial response.

Grummok had made no aggressive move towards Jen Kedar, but the twin daggers he held in his taloned fists were a silent exclamation of his purpose. “I have my ways, Everhate, I have my ways.” Grummok answered his eyes glinting with some hidden secret. “I have come to repay you for the lies you have spread and for that which you have taken from me.”

Jen Kedar smiled thinly, his amber eyes gleaming with malice. “Grummok, I had nothing to do with Hek’s death. If the reports I have heard are true, and I am sure they are, then it was your blade, not mine, that ended Hek’s life.” 

“Lies!” Grummok boomed his voice echoing off the walls of the chamber. The gargoyle had taken a step towards Jen Kedar outrage flashing across his feral features in a rictus grin of grief and loneliness. “Lies! Your lies left me no choice!” Grummok howled. “There was nothing left of him but the poison you and your, master”, Grummok hissed the word as if it pained him to utter it, “had placed there.” 

“That is pure drivel Grummok, and you know it.” Jen Kedar said his arms locked across his chest. “I did nothing but open the door, Hek stepped through of his own accord. Whatever hatred he harbored for you was not my doing.” The drow guildmaster regarded the enraged gargoyle before him a defiant sneer set on his thin lips.

“You did nothing, eh?” Grummok said mockingly. “Nothing but defy the edicts of the entire city by sponsoring the worship of your master. Nothing but led an excellent assassin and my…friend…” The word stuck in Grummok’s throat, he had never uttered it aloud and it pained him to hear it roll from his tongue. “You lead him to his death.” The gargoyle finished, his face pinched with grief.

“Very well. Supposing what you say is true what have you come here for? Revenge?” Jen Kedar shook his head in exasperation. “Let us cease this foolishness Grummok, come back to the guild, we have much need of your skills. I will forget your past transgressions and reinstate you as a full member.” The drow assassin offered his arms held wide, his tone brimming with generosity and forgiveness.

“Never.” Grummok replied simply. “I want no part of you and your guild, this shall be the last time I set foot in this accursed place.” The meaning behind the gargoyle’s words were unmistakable. 

Jen Kedar sighed heavily. “Grummok you have already wasted the lives of two talented assassins, must we waste another?”

“Prepare yourself Everhate, for today you shall meet your master.” Grummok replied and assumed a fighting stance holding Hek’s flaming dagger before his face in a downward stabbing grip while his other blade was held low in a saber grip for slashing. The gargoyle planted his feet roughly shoulder width apart and flared his wings awaiting Jen Kedar’s response.

The guildmaster’s irritation had progressed to full-blown anger in a matter of seconds and with a curse he granted Grummok his wish. “Very well gargoyle, it this is what must be then it is so.” The drow assassin exploded into action flashing across the space that separated he and his foe with the speed of a striking snake. Jen Kedar’s fists were a blur as he struck at Grummok’s head and upper torso. Grummok, aware of his opponent’s capabilities and supernatural speed, leapt backwards and spread his wings, momentarily hovering to avoid Jen Kedar’s unerring strikes. From the air the gargoyle hurled the dagger he held in his left hand at his foe on the ground just before he settled gracefully to earth twenty paces from his opponent. 

Jen Kedar watched the dagger arrow towards him and just before its barbed point touched his flesh he snatched it from the air with his right hand. The drow assassin then returned the missile whence it came with a powerful overhand throw. Grummok, surprised by this turnaround barely avoided his own dagger as it flashed by to clatter against the wall behind him. 

Grummok had barely recovered from the narrow miss of Jen Kedar dagger throw when the drow was upon him again lashing out with kicks and punches that crashed into the gargoyles rock like skin with staggering force. Normally Grummok would be immune to such attacks, his stony integument proof against all but enchanted blades and magic. But Jen Kedar’s fists seemed to be made of solid stone and each one that breached Grummok’s defenses left the gargoyle no doubt that Jen Kedar could quite literally beat him to death. 

Jen Kedar’s unique abilities were no surprise to Grummok for he knew something of Jen Kedar’s history that few did; the drow noble has studied with an enigmatic group of monks devoted to the drow god Vhaerun for many years before he joined the assassin’s guild. Jen Kedar had learned much from these monks, most importantly how to defend himself without the aid of weapons or armor. Jen Kedar had left the monks shortly before they were destroyed by the vengeful clerics of Lolth led by none other than Jen Kedar’s mother, Matron Everhate. Grummok assumed that Jen Kedar himself had been instrumental in the monk’s downfall as it befitted the treacherous nature of the drow assassin.

The gargoyle was no stranger to hand to hand fighting himself and soon noticed a pattern in Jen Kedar's fusillade of punches and kicks. Two palm strikes followed by a spinning back kick seemed to be a favorite of the drow assassin and as Grummok desperately fended off Jen Kedar’s attacks he waited for the subtle shift in the drow’s stance that would signal that combination. It came suddenly and without warning and there were very few in the entire city that would have been fast enough to react. Jen Kedar threw the left palm strike followed by the right, which Grummok deflected with his forearms, and then spun his body in a complete circle lashing out with the devastating back kick. But Grummok had been ready, and as Jen Kedar’s foot flashed towards him the gargoyle spun his body to the side letting Jen Kedar’s kick sail harmlessly by and snatched the drow’s foot in his taloned left hand. Before the drow could react Grummok drove his flaming dagger up and under Jen Kedar’s knee driving the enchanted blade deep in to the flesh and bone of the vulnerable joint. Jen Kedar howled in agony and tried to yank his foot from Grummok’s grasp but the gargoyle clung tenaciously and pulled the drow forward to be torn to shreds by his needle like fangs and remaining talon, but Jen Kedar was far from finished. As the drow assassin was drawn forward he called upon the teachings of the long dead Vhaerunian monks and charged his fist with power drawn from his own body. Grummok, intent on tearing the drow to pieces was unable to defend himself from Jen Kedar’s sudden attack and watched helplessly as his captured opponent slammed a heavy fist into the side of his head with bone jarring force.

The blow was staggering and Grummok released his grip on Jen Kedar and stumbled back, eyes glazed and ears ringing. Jen Kedar took advantage of the pause in combat to yank the dagger from his knee and toss it aside. The drow assassin was permanently crippled, the delicate tendons of his knee joint mangled beyond repair, but this was only a minor inconvenience for one of Jen Kedar power. The most experienced monks of Vhaerun were said to have the ability to heal their own bodies, repairing even the most grievous wounds and Jen Kedar had added this ability to his repertoire long ago. The drow assassin placed both hands on his savaged knee and closed his eyes in concentration, praying Grummok would not recover from his stunning blow too soon. The healing energy flowed from Jen Kedar’s hands into his wounded knee and in mere seconds the flesh had completely repaired itself, all traces of the dagger’s carnage erased, and none too soon. Grummok had regained his senses and was rushing headlong at the downed drow assassin talons spread and mouth agape.  

Jen Kedar let the gargoyle come and as Grummok loomed over him he shot his now healed leg straight out at the charging gargoyle’s knee, connecting with a sharp crack. The blow was fierce and Grummok’s leg buckled beneath it sending the gargoyle crashing to the ground in a flurry of sand and flailing wings. Jen Kedar had rolled out of the falling gargoyles way and had regained his feet in one smooth motion. He now regarded his opponent with the cruel eye of a veteran assassin, he knew that Grummok was crippled and lacked the ability to heal his wounds. Grinning Jen Kedar decided that this would be a slow and casual execution and for once he would enjoy himself and revel in his own superiority.

Grummok was struggling to rise when Jen Kedar renewed his attack, darting in with a kick to the side of the gargoyle’s head as he climbed to his knees. Grummok’s head was rocked back by the teeth rattling force of the blow a number of his fangs flying from his mouth, broken off by the savage kick. The blow left the gargoyle incensed and with a hiss of pain and rage, Grummok surged to his feet surprising Jen Kedar who had thought the gargoyle permanently disabled. Grummok moved gingerly favoring his uninjured leg and used his wings in short flaps to steady himself and provide balance. The gargoyle circled his opponent looking for an opening in the formidable drow’s defenses.

Jen Kedar had retreated a few paces away and was smiling smugly. “Well done Grummok, I thought you done for.” Jen Kedar was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, almost dancing in a show of blatant mockery.

Grummok wiped a trail of black blood from his lips with the back of one clawed hand and glared at the drow assassin. “It shall take more than that to rid you of me, Everhate. Come now, let us finish this.” The gargoyle spread his arms and bared his talons waiting for the drow assassin to advance, which he did in a flash of ebon skin. 

Grummok threw a clumsy off balanced claw swipe at the advancing drow, trying to maintain his balance and keep his weight off his injured knee. Jen Kedar snaked a hand around Grummok’s wrist as he avoided the off balance strike and turned his body completely around so that his back faced the gargoyle he then positioned Grummok’s arm over his shoulder resting it on the vulnerable crux of the elbow joint. With a savage yank Jen Kedar pulled down on Grummok's arm while raising his shoulder simultaneously, the resulting force hyper extended the gargoyle’s elbow and with a resounding snap the joint gave way. Jen Kedar finished the maneuver by stepping back, placing his left leg between Grummok’s and hurling the gargoyle over his shoulder to land in a tangled heap in the sand a few paces away. 

Grummok lay stunned in the sand, the pain in his right arm flowering into an explosion of exquisite agony. The gargoyle struggled to his knees using his left arm to prop himself up and was promptly slammed to the ground again by a heel kick to his lower back. What followed was a beating of epic proportions as Jen Kedar kicked the downed gargoyle again and again. The drow assassin was not trying to kill Grummok, not yet, just inflict as much pain and incapacitation as possible. As the minutes rolled by all that could be heard was the muffled thud of Jen Kedar’s foot or fist slamming into Grummok and the occasional crack of a breaking rib. Finally tiring of the exertion Jen Kedar left off with his pummeling and stepped back breathing hard. Grummok lived, but his body was a savaged mass of contusions and broken bones. The thick viscous blood of the gargoyle had darkned the sand around his inert form, transforming the fine particles into a morass of clumped gore. Grummok’s breath was shallow and slow; a broken rib had punctured one of his lungs and his chest felt as if was filled with hot coals. With a monumental effort the gargoyle rolled over onto his back to see his sweat slicked assailant smiling down at him grinning with perverse amusement. 

“Well Grummok, that was a bit more exertion than I had planned on today, but I thank you for the effort you expended for my sake.” Jen Kedar said, his eyes brimming with cruel mirth.

Grummok opened his mouth to speak but his words were slurred, many of his teeth had been broken off and more than a few of them had shredded his tongue. The gargoyle finally managed a broken whisper. “Kill me…” he pleaded.

Jen Kedar smiled with mock sympathy and squatted down on his haunches as if he were going to speak to a child. “ Now Grummok, I can’t kill you yet.” The drow assassin cooed. “I have another purpose in mind for you, I wish to recoup some of the losses you have earned me, and to do that I need you alive for a bit longer.”

“Baalzebul…” Grummok croaked, his eyes filling with dread.

“Yes that’s right, my master will be well pleased by such an offering. I must admit I am disappointed that things have worked out the way they have.” The smile on Jen Kedar’s face wavered for a moment and his tone became distant with what Grummok assumed was regret. “The loss of both you and Hek is a staggering blow to the guild as well as a vast disappointment to my master. He had hoped to bring you into the fold and show you the path to true power, as he has done for me, but…” The drow sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

Suddenly a feral gleam appeared in Grummok’s eyes and he struggled to a sitting position causing a fit of blood tinged coughing. When the fit had passed the gargoyle used his good arm to prop his body up while he attempted to gather his uninjured leg under his battered body. Jen Kedar watched the pitiful sight with obvious amusement but made no move to stop the gargoyle. Grummok made it to his feet with a staggering lurch, swaying like a drunkard his battered face pinched with agony. 

“Come, come Grummok, save yourself _some_ dignity.” Jen Kedar chided.

Grummok did not reply to the assassin’s barb but instead focused his gaze on a point over Jen Kedar’s shoulder and with much effort forced his unwilling body to speak. “Have you heard enough, Matron Mother?” the gargoyle said into the empty air. 

Jen Kedar’s eyes widened in horror and he whirled around to see the shadowy outline of Matron Kezekia Tormtor gain substance and finally coalesce into the armored figure of the drow matron herself. Behind Kezekia another drow female materialized along with a contingent of six Tormtor house guard. 

Jen Kedar was speechless but his eyes brimmed with fury especially when he recognized the second the other female as Ganevra Everhate, his mother. “What is the meaning of this?!” Jen Kedar demanded trying to force down his fear with a show of outraged bravado.

“Silence fool!” Kezekia boomed her voice filling the training room and immediately quieting the drow assassin. “You have been allowed much leeway in your activities Jen Kedar, due in part to the respect I hold for your mother and for the services you have rendered to us in the past. But now you have presumed too much. The blasphemy you have committed cannot be overlooked.”

All pretenses of confidence and superiority had fled Jen Kedar leaving only a man confronted with the inevitability of his own death. The drow assassin made one desperate plea. “Mother…please.” He whispered.

Ganevra Everhate would not look at her son, the shame he had brought on their house was more than she was willing to forgive. With her eyes on the ground at her feet she pronounced the sentence Jen Kedar feared was coming. “You have violated the edicts of Lolth, you must be punished. There is naught that I could do even if I wished it. Your life belongs to the spider queen now.” The words carried the weight of truth and finality; there would be no merciful stays of execution here.

Kezekia Tormtor was grinning from ear to ear as Jen Kedar’s mother revealed the grim fate that awaited her son and for the first time she acknowledged the battered gargoyle standing in their midst. “Are you well Grummok? You look terrible” The Matron mother jested with a small chuckle that momentarily softened her stern features. Ignoring the stunned form of Jen Kedar, Kezekia strode up to Grummok and laid a hand on his stony brow. She mumbled a quick incantation and a soft blue light suddenly filled the room. Grummok felt the energy of life flow into him and experienced the bizarre sensation of his body repairing itself at supernatural speed. Within seconds he was whole and hale again, all traces of his grievous injuries washed away by the powerful healing magic. 

Jen Kedar watched the architect of his destruction brought back from the brink of death and it filled him with rage. The drow assassin uttered a feral growl and charged across the short distance between himself and Grummok, determined to deliver the same disaster the gargoyle had brought to him. He made it exactly three steps before a single word, charged with arcane might, triggered a burst of magical energy from Madame Kezekia. Her spell, bolstered by her formidable magical prowess was all but irresistible and Jen Kedar found his charge suddenly neutralized by a complete bodily paralysis. 

“Take him!” Matron Kezekia barked to the house guards that had accompanied her and they moved forward to comply with her wishes.

“Wait.” Grummok said and laid a hand on the drow matron’s forearm. Kezekia looked up at the gargoyle quizzically but held up her hand to stop her guard’s advance. Grummok walked slowly over to the inert from of Jen Kedar, knowing full well that his paralysis did not impair the drow’s sight or hearing. The assassin was frozen in mid-step and Grummok saw that his eyes were huge with terror. The gargoyle moved up close to Jen Kedar placing his stony lips inches from the drow’s left ear and whispered. “Farewell, guildmaster. Remember me in the short time that remains to you and may every scream that passes your lips bear the name of Hekendel Oakheart and reach his ears wherever he may be.” Grummok lingered a moment to let his words sink in, before pulling away and motioning to the Tormtor guards. “He is yours, take him.” The guards placed mithral manacles around Jen Kedar’s legs and wrists, each one inscribed with magical runes of weakening and carried the doomed assassin bodily from the training room. 

“You have done well Grummok, house Tormtor shall not forget.” Matron Kezekia said as her guards carted her prize out of the room. Grummok wondered just how pleased matron Everhate was that her son would end his life screaming under the sacrificial knife. Would she seek restitution?

“I am happy to serve in whatever capacity the matron deems necessary.” Grummok said with a bow. 

“Hah!” Matron Kezekia snorted in derision. “You have gained much here, but do not make the same mistake your predecessor has. The servants of Lolth have many eyes and a long reach.” The matron warned. 

“Of course, matron Mother. Only a fool would follow a fool’s path.” Grummok said gracefully.

“Very well, then we shall take our leave…_guildmaster_.” Kezekia treated Grummok to one of her rare smiles as she uttered that final word. It was true, the deal Grummok had struck with the drow matron, should he succeed, included the leadership of the assassin’s guild. 

Grummok watched the drow matron leave and suddenly he was alone, in _his_ training room, in _his_ guild house. The gargoyle trudged across the sand that coated the training room floor to the center of the sandpit where Jen Kedar had flung the flaming dagger Grummok had stabbed him with. Grummok picked up the blade gingerly, the steel was cool, and the magical flames that normally shrouded it were mysteriously absent. The dagger had once belonged to Hek and it had been a prized possession of the human assassin. The gargoyle smiled down at the dagger in his hand, his mind filling with visions of his human friend. “You are avenged my friend, may you finally find the peace you deserve.” Grummok whispered into the silence. As Grummok slid Hek’s dagger into his belt he hoped that he too might find a peace of his own amid the turbulent chaos of Erelhei-Cinlu. Victorious the gargoyle strode from the training room and out into the guildhall proper to take possession of his guild and his destiny.


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## BLACKDIRGE (May 21, 2003)

Silver Moon said:
			
		

> *My game next week will begin with a direct confrontation between the adventurers and with  Grummock (at age 80) and his drow mentor Jen Kedar Everhate.
> 
> 
> The Story So Far*
> ...




Ok, first of all here are the stats for Jen Kedar (story and history pending). You will need to nerf jen kedar considerably as he is a very powerful epic character.


*Jen Kedar Everhate, male drow Mnk16/Asn5/DoB5:* CR 26; ECL 27; Medium Humanoid (drow); HD 10d6+50 plus 15d8+75; hp 228; Init +19 (+11 Dex, +8 Superior Initiative); Spd 80 ft; AC 39 (+11 Dex, +6 Wis, +3 monk, +4 mage armor, +5 ring of protection); Melee unarmed strike +37/+34/+31/+28 (1d20+13/19-20 crit x2) or flurry of blows +35/+32/+29/+27/+25 (1d20+13/19-20 crit x2) or lightning fists +32/+29/+26/+23/+20/+15 (1d20+13/19-20 crit x2); SA flurry of blows, ki strike (+3), quivering palm, stunning attack (16/day), death attack, sneak attack +5d6, suggestion, summon Osyluth; SQ drow traits, abundant step, diamond body, diamond soul 26, evasion, fast movement, improved evasion, leap of the clouds, purity of body, slow fall (50 ft.), still mind, wholeness of body 32, +2 save against poison, poison use, traps, uncanny dodge (Dex bonus to AC, can't be flanked), tongue of the devil, SR 36; AL LE; SV Fort +18, Ref +27, Will +19; Str 15 (27), Dex 26 (32), Con 14 (20), Int 16, Wis 16 (22), Cha 18.

*Skills (213 points):* Balance +23, Bluff +19, Climb +18, Craft (poison making) +18, Diplomacy +18, Disguise +16, Escape Artist +16, Gather Information +19, Intimidate +11, Hide +27, Jump +20, Listen +18, Knowledge (religion) +13, Move Silently +27, Search +15, Sense Motive +16, Spot +18, Tumble +29 

*Feats:*eapon Finesse (unarmed strike), Weapon Focus (unarmed strike), Improved Critical (unarmed strike), Expertise, Improved Disarm, Snatch Arrows, Improved Grapple, Lightning Fists, Improved Initiative, Blinding Speed (Epic), Superior Initiative (Epic)

*Assassin Spells Prepared:* (2/2/1; save DC 13 + spell level): 1st -- change self, angry ache. 2nd – alter self, pass without trace. 3rd – sadism 

*Equipment:* _headband of perfect excellence, amulet of mighty fists +5, ring of mage armor, ring of protection +5, belt of mighty prowess_

*Flurry of Blows:* Jen Kedar can use the full attack action to make one extra attack per round with an unarmed strike or a special monk weapon at his highest base attack, but this attack and each other attack made that round suffer a -2 penalty apiece. This penalty applies for 1 round, so it affects attacks of opportunity Jen Kedar might make before his next action. If armed with his siangham, Jen Kedar makes the extra attack either with that weapon or unarmed. In any case, his damage bonus on the attack with his off hand is not reduced.

*Ki Strike (Su):* Jen Kedar's unarmed strike can deal damage to a creature with damage reduction as if the blow were made with a weapon with a +3 enhancement bonus. 

*Quivering Palm (Su):* Once per week, Jen Kedar can use an unarmed strike to set up vibrations within the body of another creature that can then be fatal if Jen Kedar so desires. Jen Kedar must have more monk levels than the target has Hit Dice. If the target takes damage from Jen Kedar's blow, the quivering palm attack succeeds. Thereafter, Jen Kedar can choose to try to slay the victim at any later time within 16 days by simply willing the target to die (a free action). Unless the target makes a Fortitude saving throw (DC 24), it dies. If the save is successful, the target is no longer in danger from that particular quivering palm attack.

*Stunning Attack (Su):* Once per round (but not more than sixteen times per day), Jen Kedar can stun a creature damaged by his unarmed attacks. The foe so struck must make a Fortitude saving throw (DC 24) or be stunned for 1 round in addition to taking normal damage from the attack. Creatures immune to critical hits cannot be stunned with this attack.

*Abundant Step (Sp):* Jen Kedar can slip magically between spaces, as per the spell dimension door, once per day.

*Diamond Body (Su):* Jen Kedar gains immunity to poison of all kinds.

*Diamond Soul:* Jen Kedar gains spell resistance 26. 

*Evasion (Ex):* If Jen Kedar makes a successful Reflex saving throw against an attack that normally deals half damage on a successful save, he instead takes no damage.

*Improved Evasion:* If Jen Kedar makes a successful Reflex saving throw against an attack that normally deals half damage on a successful save, he instead takes no damage. In addition, he takes only half damage on a failed save.

*Leap of the Clouds:* Jen Kedar's jumping distance (vertical or horizontal) is not limited according to his height.

*Purity of Body:* Jen Kedar gains immunity to all diseases except for magical diseases such as mummy rot and lycanthropy.

*Slow Fall:* A monk within arm's reach of a wall can use it to slow his descent while falling. Jen Kedar takes damage as if the fall were 50 feet shorter than it actually is. 

*Still Mind:* Jen Kedar gains a +2 bonus on saving throws against spells and effects from the Enchantment school.

*Wholeness of Body (Su):* Jen Kedar can cure up to 32 hit points of his own wounds each day, and he can spread this healing out over several uses.

*Death Attack:* If Jen Kedar studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Jen Kedar's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 18) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.

*Poison Use:* Jen Kedar is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

*Tongue of the Devil (Ex):* Jen Kedar as a disciple of Baalzebul can speak with eloquence and believability even when telling bold-faced lies, by using his cunning as well as his charm. When making Bluff checks, Jen Kedar adds his intelligence modifier as well as his Charisma modifier to the check result.

*Suggestion (Sp):* Once per day Jen Kedar can produce an effect identical to that of a suggestion spell. The DC to resist this effect is 19. 

*Summon Osyluth (Sp):* Once per day Jen Kedar can summon a single Osyluth devil. This functions as a summon monster spell cast by a 15th level caster. 


Ok, now that you have all the stats you need, here are some ideas for tactics. Jen Kedar and Grummok will never confront their enemies in a position of strenght. They have a vast arrray of abilities to draw upon that will keep them from a disadvantagous fight with your entire party. Their most likely course of action given the information you detailed would depend on the strength a of your group. The two assassins would not readily attack foes they knew litle about, and would study their intended targets for quite awhile before doing anything. if your group somehow seems weak to them then direct confrontation is not out of the question, and they would certainly seek to destroy them utterly. If your group has a reputation of strenth then it is quite possible that Jen Kedar would attempt to negotiate, that failing he and Grummok would certainly flee, not wishing to take un-needed chances with their lives. The one thing to remember is that both assassins are very experienced and would not act rashly or without knowing all the facts, that's how thay have stayed alive as long as they have.

Let me know if you have any other queations.

Dirge


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## Nasma (Aug 9, 2003)

BLACKDIRGE said:
			
		

> *I have an epic grummok stroy in the works that I plan to finish by the end of the month, so stay tuned.
> *




Woohoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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## Creamsteak (Aug 13, 2003)

I think that's good.


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## Hackenslash (Aug 14, 2003)

*I just read Gruumok again and it Rocks !!!*

Fair play to ya BLACKDIRGE, this Grummok story is excellent. I just read it again from start to finish all in one go and I was totally captivated. It is by far your best work to date, IMHO. I am well looking forward to your new Epic Grummok story. Will you be posting it on this thread or will you start another in the Story Hour Board ? Cheers !


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## DmQ (Aug 20, 2003)

More great work!


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 18, 2004)

Grummok's back, check out the story hour forum.

http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=77735


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## Nasma (Feb 19, 2004)

Creamsteak said:
			
		

> I think that's good.




Dammit creamsteak, show some enthusiasm.  I mean, at least put it in bold.


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## BLACKDIRGE (Feb 27, 2004)

Here is Grummok as he appears in An Assassin's Tale. His stats have been updated for 3.5.

**********************************************

*Grummok*

*Gargoyle Rogue 10/Assassin 16*
*Medium Monstrous Humanoid*
*Hit Dice:* 4d8+24 plus 26d6+156 (321 hp)
*Initiative:* +17 (+13 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative)
*Speed:* 80 ft. (16 squares), fly 120 ft. (perfect)
*AC:* 41 (+13 Dex, +4 natural, +9 armor, +5 ring), touch 28, flatfooted 41
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +20/+27
*Attack:* _+6 keen distance returning fleshgrinding dagger_ +39 melee (1d4+13/17-20 x2) or claw +33 melee (1d4+7)
*Full Attack:* _+6 keen distance returning fleshgrinding dagger_ +37/+32/+27 melee (1d4+13/17-20 x2) and _+5 flaming burst dagger_ +36/+31/+26 melee (1d4+8 plus 1d6 fire/19-20 x2), or 2 claws +33 melee (1d4+7) and bite +25 melee (1d6+3) and gore +25 melee (1d6+3)
*Space/Reach:* 5 ft./5 ft.
*Special Attacks:* Death attack, poison use, sneak attack +13d6, spells
*Special Qualities:* Damage reduction 10/magic, darkvision 60 ft., evasion, hide in plain sight, improved uncanny dodge, freeze, slippery mind, trap sense +3, uncanny dodge, +8 save against poison 
*Saves:* Fort +21, Ref  +29, Will +14
*Abilities:* Str 24, Dex 36, Con 22, Int 23, Wis 14, Cha 14
*Skills:* Balance +33, Bluff +22, Climb +27, Craft (poison making) +20, Diplomacy +23, Disable Device +27, Disguise +11, Escape Artist +19, Gather Information +23, Hide +41, Intimidate +16, Jump +27, Knowledge (anatomy) +16, Listen +19, Move Silently +36, Open Lock +31, Search +20, Sense Motive +21, Spot +19, Tumble +57
*Feats:* Multiattack, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Improved Flight, Improved Initiative, Two Weapon Fighting, Improved Two Weapon Fighting, Greater Two Weapon Fighting, Weapon Expertise, Weapon Finesse (dagger); _Epic:_ Dexterous Will, Improved Death Attack, Two Weapon Rend
*Environment:* Underground
*Organization:* Solitary
*Challenge Rating:* 32
*Alignment:* Neutral (Evil)
*Possessions:* _armor of perfect freedom, boots of swiftness, +2 wire garrote, belt of giant strength +6, +6 keen distance fleshgrinding dagger, +5 fiery burst dagger, ring of protection +5, head band of intellect +6, epic gloves of dexterity +10, ring of major elemental protection (fire), amulet of the zephyr_

*Assassin Spells Known (5/5/4/4; DC =16+spell level):* 1st – _disguise self, jump, obscuring mist, true strike;_ 2nd – _alter self, cat’s grace, invisibility, pass without trace;_ 3rd – _amorphous form, deep slumber, magic circle against evil, nondetection;_ 4th – _dimension door, freedom of movement, greater invisibility, poison._

*Freeze (Ex):* Grummok can hold himself so still that he appears to be a statue. An observer must succeed at a Spot check (DC 20) to notice Grummok is really alive.

*Evasion (Ex):* If exposed to any effect that normally allows a character to attempt a Reflex saving throw for half damage, Grummok takes no damage with a successful saving throw.

*Death Attack (Ex):* If Grummok studies his victim for 3 rounds and then makes a sneak attack within the next 3 rounds with a melee weapon that successfully deals damage, the sneak attack may also paralyze or kill the target (Grummok's choice). A victim who fails his or her Fortitude saving throw (DC 33) against the kill effect dies. If the saving throw fails against the paralysis, the victim's mind and body become enervated, making him or her completely helpless and unable to act for 1d6+1 rounds.
Poison Use: Grummok is trained in the use of poison and never risks accidentally poisoning himself when applying poison to a blade.

*Uncanny Dodge (Ex):* Grummok retains his Dexterity bonus to AC regardless of being caught flat-footed or struck by an invisible attacker. (He still loses any Dexterity bonus to AC if immobilized.)

*Improved Uncanny Dodge (Ex):* Grummok can no longer be flanked, since he can react to opponents on opposite sides of him as easily as he can react to a single attacker. This defense denies rogues the ability to use flank attacks.

*Slippery Mind (Ex):* This ability represents the Grummok’s ability to wriggle free from magical effects that would otherwise control or compel him. If Grummok is affected by an enchantment spell or effect and fails his saving throw, he can attempt it again 1 round later at the same DC. He gets only this one extra chance to succeed on his saving throw.


*Grummok’s Unique Items:*

_*Armor of Perfect Freedom:*_ This black spider silk jerkin was awarded to Grummok on his ascendance to guild master. A gift from Matron Mother Kezekia Tormtor, the armor was specially designed for Grummok, created to accent his already fearsome combat prowess. The armor acts as +6 silenced, shadowed spider silk armor. In addition it has no maximum dexterity bonus.

*Amulet of the Zephyr:* Forged of platinum in the shape of two feathered wings, this amulet increased the maneuverability class of any flying creature by one.


Twenty years after his ascendance to guildmaster of assassins, Grummok is one of the most feared creatures in Erelhei-Cinlu. Although he rarely handles assassinations personally, he has been known to venture from the safety of the guild house at the bequest of the matron mothers or to settle a personal vendetta.

When outside of the guild house, Grummok will often disguise himself as a drow warrior, thereby allowing him to blend easily into the crowded streets of Erelhei-Cinlu, and avoid detection by his many enemies. He typically uses the name of Hedrazsh in his drow disguise, and has even established a reputation as a skilled mercenary for his alter ego. 

In truth, much of the excitement and danger of Grummok’s youth has been passed on to a younger, more ambitious generation of assassins. The guildmaster finds that most of his days are filled with tedious boredom, as he assigns contracts to underlings and meets with distinguished members of Erelhei-Cinlu nobility. On the rare occasions that he can find any time for himself, Grummok will retreat to his manse, a well-appointed tower in the center of Erelhi-Cinlu’s Ghetto of Artisans. There he dwells among the memories of a more troubling time, reflecting on his past and gauging the outcome of his future.

*Appearance & Tactics*

Grummok is short for a gargoyle, barely topping six feet in height. He is less grotesque than most of his kind, but still displays the savage claws and teeth, as well as a spiraling pair of horns, found in all members of his race. Over the years, Grummok has learned to control the natural savagery and bloodlust infamous among gargoyles, and has learned that a cultured tongue and a keen mind are sometimes more effective than tearing fangs and ripping claws.

Most who encounter Grummok in a violent situation never even see him, much less find time to react to his presence. He is a master of assassination, with the ability to slip in and out of the most heavily guarded fortification without detection. Grummok’s victims will often realize they are under attacked, only after the assassin’s dagger has struck home. 

If forced into a more direct confrontation, Grummok is more than capable of defeating all but the most skilled warriors in melee. His prowess with his daggers, in addition to his arsenal of magical equipment, make all but unstoppable. Of course flight is always an option for the less than honorable assassin, and Grummok’s wings and spells serve him well should he ever need to leave a dangerous situation quickly.


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## Graywolf-ELM (Oct 19, 2004)

Just a bump, so people can see what they are missing.

GW


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## Graywolf-ELM (Jan 7, 2005)

Ditto my previous post from a few months back.  Is there a place to store the story hours that are ended?  This is one I'd sure like to see saved.

GW


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## pogre (Feb 21, 2005)

A must read.


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## Bryon_Soulweaver (Mar 4, 2005)

What would happen if he started becoming a wizard?


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