by Dean Henegar
Darkfallow has completed the quest Set the Plan in Motion. Experience received 350.
“Thanks Dude! I just dinged level seven! Let me know if you have any other quests. I have to log for a while . . . real world calls. Love your new puppies by the way,” Darkfallow joked as he tried unsuccessfully to pet the dire rat one last time before he logged out.
Narbos thought it was as good a time as any to log as well. The real world awaited, school was out for fall break and he needed to register for next quarter’s classes. When Narbos slowly faded from view at logout, the rat looked at the now empty throne. The creature jumped up to sit in the still warm velvet seat, circling around several times before curling up comfortably for a nap.
Chapter 2
Cacklemaster Krork came to a stop, panting for breath. Even his immense stamina had been severely tested by their flight. Gnolls were cowardly creatures by nature, but it still galled the leader that he had to flee. Things had been going well for his people. There was easy raiding against the human tribesmen, and it had looked like he would soon be in position to sack their main settlement.
Then the problems had started. First, small scouting parties vanished. Then whole raiding bands went missing. Finally, the horrifying undead ghouls attacked his main encampment. After leaving his least-liked sub-cackle to sacrifice themselves in order to buy him time to flee, Krork gathered his remaining people and escaped to the northwest.
He had skirted the village of Holdfast and managed to avoid being seen by the humans living there. For a moment, he had been tempted to attack the small town, but the imposing walls as well as his dwindling number of warriors kept him from that rash act. Krork knew he needed to find a base of operation . . . and more importantly, a spawn point to rebuild his forces.
Krork and his cackle now followed a path leading toward the northwest. The trail they followed wound its way through small hills covered in tall grasses. Much to Krork’s dismay, the grass concealed a new threat to his people. Huge bird-like creatures occasionally attacked their group, darting out of the grass to snatch a victim before hurrying off with their kill. The birds couldn’t fly and were over six-feet tall. Powerful legs propelled them at a speed no gnoll could match. Should the gnolls stop to try and fight, they faced deadly-sharp, six-inch-long claws tipping the bird’s feet as well as keen beaks that could snap off a gnoll’s head in one bite.
“Stop now, we can rest,” the cacklemaster ordered to the strung-out line of gnolls. He felt they could stop now as the latest group of birds contented themselves with eating the two gnoll children and pair of defenders they had killed at the back of the group. Despite his best efforts to hurry the column of gnolls forward, the birds always caught up with them. The creatures would appear again and again, taking a few victims each time. Information on his tormentors appeared as the Cacklemaster watched his people slowly gather together in a group to rest.
Terror Bird, Level 6 (2): These beasts, left over from an ancient time, are efficient hit and run hunters, striking from cover to kill a victim before sprinting off with their kill.
“Stupid birds!” Krork yelled in frustration. At least some of his warriors had managed to kill one of the attacking birds, which should provide him with a good meal tonight. His mouth watered at the thought of roasted, giant terror bird. He gave little thought to the four of his people that died to kill only a single bird. If he could just find a spawn point all would be well again.
After a brief rest, the cackle traveled for another several miles as their destination grew ever closer. They were headed toward a small, mountainous area in the northwest of the zone. The mountains should provide some respite from the bird attacks and hopefully allow for more hunting and gathering by his people as they explored the area.
After camping for the night, the few remaining scouts were sent out to find a new base of operation for the cackle. Thankfully, the terror birds attacked during the day . . . mostly. The few hundred survivors of the over one-thousand gnolls that had once populated his band bedded down for the night. Krork smiled, watching the last dozen or so of the war hyenas that accompanied the gnolls fight over the bones of the giant bird. The bird was delicious and had fed him and his most trusted warriors that night. Many still went hungry, but Krork didn’t care. His warriors were happy for now and remained loyal. Keeping himself in power was what mattered, Krork thought as he allowed the pleasant sounds of the yipping hyenas to lull him to sleep in his tent.
“Great Cacklemaster Krork, we found a possible home!” an excited gnoll scout said as he woke Krork. He thought for a moment about killing the scout for waking him, but figured he had taken too many losses lately and had to conserve his resources.
“Heh, what did you find? Out with it, puny scout!” Krork ordered. The scout breathed a sigh of relief as he responded to his master. Krork smiled as he could see devious plans begin to form in the scout’s mind. He knew the scout had been likely set up by his peers to deliver the news to their sleeping leader. The way to move up in gnoll society was to arrange the death or humiliation of the one positioned ahead of you in the cackle.
“Great Cacklemaster Krork, there is the ruin of a city built into the side of the mountain in front of us,” the scout said as he gestured toward one of the mountain peaks that lay a few miles to the northwest. “There is a spawn point there just waiting for us and the place is only inhabited by a dozen or so strange humans. Easy pickings for us!” the scout said, his voice raising in his exuberance.
“Gather the cackle. Let’s fill our bellies on human flesh and begin to rebuild our numbers!” Krork ordered after slapping the scout to the ground for raising his voice in front of his master.
The camp was broken down quickly, an easy feat when only Krork and his favored few had tents to use. Looking about, the leader assessed the remaining strength of his people. He could count only thirty-five warriors still fit for battle. Most of the warriors were between the levels of 4 and 5. There were also a dozen of the level 3 scouts remaining. Krork was glad he hadn’t killed the one who had woken him since three of the fifteen scouts he had sent out last night hadn’t returned. The missing scouts were likely filling the belly of some creature or another. He also had eleven of the vicious level 3 war hyenas at his disposal. There had been a dozen last night, but some enterprising and hungry gnoll had taken one down while it slept. The nearly starving cackle was beginning to get desperate. He would have to find out who did that and either kill them or promote them, depending on his mood.
The scouts, accompanied by Krork, led the way. The remaining warriors followed with the war hyenas a bit behind the line of scouts. The rest of the cackle would have to fend for themselves back at camp until they returned. This was more important that a few more children and old ones being snatched by the terror birds.
His cackle was light on fighters now, the majority of the remaining gnolls being noncombatants. These noncombatants were the ones who were supposed to gather the food, hunt for weak game, and craft the weapons and clothing of the cackle. They hadn’t had much time to do any of these things since they had been on the run for the last week. Being in one place for the day should let them be productive, despite the stupid birds eating a few more of them.
At the base of the mountain, the lead scout motioned the rest of them forward. Hidden behind a tall stand of scrub brush, the Cacklemaster was greeted by a strange sight. Just beyond where they were hidden was a cave, the opening ornately decorated with weathered carvings. The carvings were too worn by the centuries to make out what they had once represented, other than vaguely humanoid forms. To the Cacklemaster, they looked like something the stupid dwarves would carve, only these were not as durable to the ravages of time as the things the dwarves made.
On a large flat stone in front of the cave, a dozen humans sat in a circle. The humans were dressed in orange-colored robes, chanting in an incomprehensible language. Their bald heads gleamed in the sunlight as the humans raised their hands toward the rising sun. Th
e foes before him were all showing as level 4, except for the one that looked like their leader; he was level 8. Next to the cave opening was a large stone-like pillar. The Cacklemaster greedily rubbed his paws together as he looked at the stone, its information filling his vision.
The Ruins of Gul Dorg: These ancient ruins were once the home to a large clan of human cave-dwellers. Rumor has it that they were wiped out when they uncovered a great evil while digging new caverns. The few remnants of their once-powerful civilization stand guard over their ancient home. This is a critical location, containing a spawn point.
The Cacklemaster waved away the notice. He had no use for stupid human stories, caring only that it contained a much-needed spawn point. The cave area would also provide protection for his cackle as they explored and then dominated the surrounding area. He began to plan his attack, barking orders to his warriors.
“Careful, humans in robes could mean magic throwers. Get the warriors up and attacking, send in the hyenas first to soak up any magic stuff. You scouts, throw spears and then help the warriors,” the Cacklemaster ordered.
The sound of the humans’ chanting covered the small amount of noise the gnolls made as they prepared for their assault. His remaining warriors were quiet; the noisy and careless ones had already been eaten by the terror birds over the last few days. Once everyone was in place, the muzzles were pulled from the war hyenas and the scouts stood and loosed their first volley of short, throwing spears. The warriors yipped and chattered their laughing war cries as they charged behind the hyenas. Krork bravely led from behind, protected by the mass of his warriors.
To their credit, the humans reacted quickly to the horde of hyena-like gnolls approaching them. All twelve of the humans hopped to their feet at the first sign of attack and stood in a defensive half-circle, protecting the cavern opening. None of the humans drew weapons, and none of them began to cast spells.
Krork grinned at the potential of an easy fight. The smile was quickly wiped from his face as the humans easily swatted down the first wave of throwing spears, taking no damage. Then the first of the hyenas arrived and lunged. The leaping beasts were met by spinning kicks from the bare footed humans. The blows from their kicks did much more damage than normal, knocking off half the health from any hyena that was struck. A few hyenas managed to dodge the kicks and latched their powerful jaws onto their targets, dealing damage and holding their victim steady for the approaching warriors.
“You shall not violate this place. Begone before you bring down calamity upon the world once more!” the higher-level human said as he activated an ability that allowed him to fly across the clearing into the mass of approaching gnoll warriors. The human rapidly kicked out, killing two of the charging gnoll warriors before they could react. The other humans activated a second ability and began to spin in place while punching at an unbelievable speed.
The rapid punching ability seriously damaged or outright killed four more warriors. The other gnolls paid no heed to their losses and crashed into the humans, their axes flashing forward to try and hack into their targets. The gnolls looked on in dismay as most of their attacks missed, the humans nimbly dodging the powerful, yet slow axe blows.
“What’s wrong with you, kill the humans already so I can claim our new home!” Krork shouted, frustrated at his warrior’s poor performance. He looked a bit closer at the humans to see what he was really dealing with.
Monks of Gul Dorg, Level 4 (11): These monks are the last of the Gul Dorg people, their faltering race dying out as they guard the world from what they believe is a “great evil.” The monks are masters of unarmed combat, using a form of mystical inner energy to power their skills.
Master Abbot of the Gul Dorg, Level 8: The Master Abbot is the spiritual leader of the Gul Dorg, leading this last small band of his people as they continue their centuries old traditions.
“Bah! These are just stupid kick-punchers! Swarm them! Bring them down!” Krork ordered. He had heard of monks before but had never seen them in action. The best way to kill something was to swarm it, the gnoll leader thought. Angry, Krork drew his twin battle axes and charged into the fray . . . away from the level eight monk of course; the toughest foes were for his warriors to handle. Heading toward the most injured and least threatening monk, he hacked his opponent to pieces with his magically sharpened axes. After cutting a second weakened opponent down, he pulled back to observe the fight, activating a buffing ability for his forces.
Great Cackle: All gnolls and hyenas within hearing of the Cacklemaster are granted a bonus of +2 to attack and defense for the next thirty seconds. The least-favored gnoll of the band instead receives a penalty of –2 to attack, defense, and morale for the duration.
Grinning in satisfaction, Krork watched as his forces gained the upper hand, defeating the badly outnumbered humans through sheer numbers. His grin grew wider when he saw the gnoll warrior named Krush fall to a kick from the abbot. Krush had been plotting to take his place, and Krork had been stumped, trying to find an appropriate way to kill the traitor. He could only hope the penalty from his Great Cackle ability was the thing that turned the fight against his rival.
Soon, only the abbot was standing. Seeing all was lost, the badly wounded abbot leapt into the air and landed in front of the cavern opening. The abbot sprinted with unnatural speed into the cavern and Krork got the feeling something bad would happen if he wasn’t stopped.
“Get in there after him all of you! Kill that human!” he shouted while entering the cavern, well behind a wall of his remaining warriors. A trail of blood from the bleeding wounds inflicted by one of the war hyenas made the abbot easy to follow, and after his sprint wore off the abbot was only able to stumble slowly towards his objective.
***
“I must bring down all of Gul Dorg to keep the world safe,” the abbot muttered through the pain. Even his supreme command of his own body wasn’t enough to keep the injuries he sustained from slowing him down. Stopping for a moment and concentrating, he was able to stop the bleeding, yet most of the wounds were still present.
You have activated the Perfect Mind/Perfect Body ability. Your wounds have stopped bleeding and you will gain 5 health per second for the next 10 seconds.
The healing allowed the abbot to pick up his pace to a fast walk as he passed the ancient throne room and headed deeper into the cavern. The throne of the Gul Dorg looked untouched by time, its magics keeping the dust and decay of centuries away. The ancient fortress was essentially now just one long tunnel as the monks had slowly closed off unused passages as their numbers dwindled over the centuries. The unused tunnels only invited dark things that skittered up from the depths to attack his few remaining monks. Better those old passages were closed off, keeping the abbot from having to see a reminder of the fading glory of what his people once had. Small living spaces for the monks were cut out along the main passage. They contained only a few bunks and blankets. The monks eschewed material wealth and sought only harmony with the mind, body, and spirit.
“No longer will my people live here. I am the last,” the abbot mourned as he continued his final journey. Shaking his head, the abbot sought to remove the feelings of loss and mourning. All things changed, and this was but another phase in the cosmic cycle. The only thing there was to mourn would be the destruction and devastation that the great evil would unleash on the world should it awaken once more. Great empires and entire continents were consumed by it once. Only a final effort by the greatest heroes of the land and their dwarven allies had banished it.
Reaching his destination, the cavern ended in an open chamber lit by glowing blue magical candles. Three blows and all is complete, the abbot thought. He punched the stone in a hidden space near the archway that led into the last chamber. Rock crumbled under the blow and a stone door fell, sealing the last chamber away. The abbot reared back to strike another location when several spears hit his side, opening new wounds. At the same time the last living war hyena caught up and clamped down on
the abbot’s leg, reopening the wounds he had just closed.
The abbot fell to the ground, shouting at his foes to let him finish his final duty. A quick Iron Palm strike killed the hyena, but before he could gain his feet, gnoll warriors surrounded him and dropped the abbot’s health bar to zero under their flashing axes. The abbot never completing his last duty, punching out another panel that would have collapsed the entire cavern on top of them. He had failed in his people’s ancient responsibility.
***
Krork barked his victory cry. The humans had depleted his meager forces, killing fifteen warriors and all his remaining war hyenas. He was not overly concerned; with control of their new home, the gnoll numbers would slowly replenish over time. There was still treasure to be found, so Krork gave his orders.
“You, send six scouts back to the rest of the cackle and lead them here. Set up camp outside the cavern. You warriors get that door open! I want my treasure, but don’t let any more than two of you go inside. I won’t have your greedy paws all swiping my trinkets. I will reward everyone once we find all the treasure. Make sure the two assigned open, look, and touch everything without stealing it. I’ll be in my new throne room,” Krork said as he walked back to sit on his new throne in the main chamber . . . after he had a scout sit in it first to reveal any deadly traps of course. He made a note of which scout sat on the throne; he would need to be killed later lest he get thoughts above his station after sitting on the throne first. For now, there were too few capable of fighting to eliminate any more. The magically enhanced throne fit him perfectly as he listened to the sounds of his warriors battering their way through the stone door protecting the final chamber, which of course Krork was convinced held great treasures.
