Aporeu chronicles Issue 8: Plandai’s Quest
Stories from the adventurers
This week
In great sorrow I have to tell you that a great adventurer has been lost. The story below will reveal the details of his most unfortunate demise.Plandai’s Quest
All my life, I dreamt of traveling the world to see all it had to show me. Never in my wildest imaginings did I consider the possibility of a goal higher than that. Then, shortly after my arrival in the quaint river-crossed country of Nedigie, a rumor reached my ears of something so exciting that it could not be ignored. These rumors spoke of an incredible artifact, a gate that opens a door between worlds.At the first available opportunity, I booked travel by boat to the city of Arnheim, where the gate was said to reside. Though it may have been foolish to expend my resources so recklessly, I had to see this unbelievable contraption for myself, and, if possible, use it to expand my ambitions beyond the limitations of the world that I had so far considered to be the only realm within my reach.
Upon arrival, I made my way hurriedly from the docks westward, turning a blind eye to the many sights offered by this city in a manner utterly unlike myself, heart giddy with excitement I had not felt since I was a child sneaking out beyond the confines of my isolated home village for the first time. Any doubts remaining in the back of my mind were quickly dispelled when I looked out over the desolate plot of land where an entire district had been leveled to accommodate the impossible object that stood somewhat ominously at its center.
Unfortunately, that was as close as I was allowed to approach it for the moment. Upon questioning the local authorities, I was informed that use of the gate was limited to members of a powerful organisation known as the Adventurer’s Guild. There was no question about it, I had to get close to the gate no matter the cost, and joining this guild seemed to be the most straightforward path. Fortunately, the martial training that was forced upon me as a youth proved sufficient to fulfill the Adventurer’s Guild’s membership requirements, and I was granted a bronze badge to denote my standing in the organisation.
Anxious to fulfill my fledgling dream of traveling to another world, I chose the very first assignment I could that involved use of the gate. Joining me on this “quest” were four others I had not met before; an elf of unusually fierce appearance by the name of Hallrûn, a man of grim countenance named Custous, who apparently worships a death god, a halfling with a long and complicated name I didn’t quite catch, who glared at me with eyes made of daggers, and finally Cleo, a young half-elven girl with fiery red hair and the attitude to match.
Joined by this unfamiliar company, I was escorted at last to the gate I had stared at longingly from afar like a shy farm boy stealing a glance at a beautiful princess. With each step closer to the portal, my heart raced faster and faster, almost beating out of my chest by the time we arrived. I observed carefully as a senior member of the guild input a series of commands into the apparatus, conjuring forth the image of a desolate alien landscape. With a mixture of wonder, excitement, and absolute terror, I stepped into the portal.
Once disgorged on the other side, we were met with the scorching heat of a blazing sun overhead. For the first time in years, I was reminded of my home climate. I felt a wry grin make its way to my face as I realized the irony in traveling between worlds only to arrive in a place very much like the one I had wished so desperately to leave for most of my life. The elf, Hallrûn, marked our arrival on this world with a strange ritual that involved tossing a live rat high into the air. I made a note to myself to inquire about his peculiar culture upon our return through the gate.
Before long, we made our way to the only sign of civilization to be found in the area; a primitive little village inhabited, to my surprise, by halflings not unlike the ones that populate the realms of Aporeu. Unsurprisingly, none of the locals spoke a language I recognized, and not even our own member of the small folk was able to communicate with them. I tried my best to appear as non-threatening as possible while the diminutive villagers brought us to their leader who was, to my bafflement, capable of speaking the trade tongue common to our native world.
In accordance with our assignment, we bombarded the poor man with a barrage of questions regarding the realm surrounding us and the potential for a trade agreement between worlds. Though I had my doubts about the viability of such an agreement, it seemed prudent to remain on amicable terms with these people. To that end, we enquired about any troubles in the region that we could help solve. The elder informed us of regular raids performed on them by a group of kobolds, a race of bothersome creatures that seem to be as much a nuisance here as on our own world.
As exterminating these pests seemed like a simple enough task, our group agreed to undertake this mission as a sign of good faith. We borrowed some extra waterskins, as well as heat-resistant clothing from the locals to aid our trek across the arid plains to where the kobold nest was rumored to be located. Shortly after our departure, we came across a curious clearing amidst a field of the village’s crops. Following a display of extreme caution by my companions, the half-elf, Cleo, found some sort of amulet hidden nearby.
We continued our journey, cutting through a small forest before arriving at the mountain lair the reptilian creatures called home. Two sentries were posted outside the entrance, providing an easy target for our group still hidden in the undergrowth. As a newcomer to the guild, I deferred the decision of whether or not to engage in combat to the more senior members. The halfling told me to take the shot, and together, we initiated a surprise attack that quickly proved fatal for the guards.
Reluctant to waste the element of surprise, we quickly pushed into the tenebrous depths of the kobold lair. Light cast through magical means quickly revealed a larger group of the creatures, which we assaulted without hesitation or mercy. Through Cleo’s sorcerous abilities, several of the kobolds were lulled into an enchanted slumber. The apparent leader of the pack, a fell champion of surprising tenacity, strode forward to meet us in melee combat while the halfling snuck around to pick off their slingers.
Despite raining blows upon the kobold leader from every angle, we managed to slay him only with great difficulty and the divine aid of Custous’ sombre god Kelemvor, whose ruinous powers the man channeled into the skull of our foe. Before he expired, the kobold champion had mentioned being subservient to some sort of master. Interrogating the remaining captured kobolds through clever use of illusion magic, Cleo discovered that these creatures were bound in service to a mighty red dragon and set to work creating a suitable habitat for the great wyrm to reside in.
After some discussion, it was decided that the only way to stop the kobold attacks on the halfling village for good was to wipe the reptilian wretches out completely. Though it strained my conscience to stand by as our halfling companion executed the prisoners in brutal fashion, I knew there was little alternative. Without rest, we pushed deeper into the shadowy halls the kobolds had labored to hew from the rock. We encountered more of the creatures and swiftly defeated them, partly in thanks to the power of the cheetah spirit granted to me back home as part of my transition from boy to warrior.
While the others discussed our next course of action, I took a moment to study the environment that the kobolds had crafted for themselves. Though much of the underground complex was crude in construction, my eye was caught by an imposing statue hewn into a remarkable likeness of a dragon. Could it be that even these primitive creatures counted creative minds and skilled artisans amongst their numbers? My meanderings were interrupted by the truncated scream of yet another captive kobold having its life extinguished. I decided to push my moral reservations to the back of my consciousness to shift focus to the task at hand, the point of no return far behind.
After being temporarily confounded by a strange puzzle, we finally came upon the final room; an enormous treasure chamber that opened into the caldera of an active volcano. Our cursory inspection of the room, and the bounty therein, was quickly interrupted by the monstrous roar of a rapidly approaching dragon. Though I was loathe to miss out on the chance to liberate an artifact of great cultural significance from the gleaming pile that filled the other end of the chamber, my survival instincts led me to vacate the premises at once.
Two others, Hallrûn and the halfling, proved more brave, or avaricious, than myself, risking life and limb for a handful of trinkets. Before the duo could make good on their escape, the dragon arrived to put a halt to their attempted larceny. With a thundering voice that rumbled through the cavern like a storm cloud, the beast warned them to cease their escape, on the pain of death.
Perhaps he thought he could make it out in time, or perhaps he did not trust that a dragon could be reasoned with. Regardless of what motivated his decision to keep running, Hallrûn’s rejection of the monstrous drake’s demand was met with a terrible gout of annihilating fire, a conflagration of such unbearable intensity as to turn the elf’s bones to ash before my eyes.
Unknown to the rest of us at the time, the halfling had managed to somehow avoid the dragon’s breath, and now found himself a captive of the beast. In desperation, he offered up the location of the gate, along with the sequence needed to facilitate transport to a different alien world. Though the potentially disastrous consequences of the halfling’s decision to grant a powerful dragon access to the artifact are difficult to predict, I can’t find it within myself to blame the man for doing what it takes to stay alive.
With mixed feelings, we reported back to the halfling village where our journey started, before saying our goodbyes and returning through the portal to our own world. Though the undertaking was harrowing and ultimately of dubious benefit, I already look forward to the next time I will be allowed to step into the gate. Who knows what more that world had to offer? And how many fantastical realms yet await?
Karim Al-Justani; warrior, traveller, and as of now, Adventurer.
Reluctant to waste the element of surprise, we quickly pushed into the tenebrous depths of the kobold lair. Light cast through magical means quickly revealed a larger group of the creatures, which we assaulted without hesitation or mercy. Through Cleo’s sorcerous abilities, several of the kobolds were lulled into an enchanted slumber. The apparent leader of the pack, a fell champion of surprising tenacity, strode forward to meet us in melee combat while the halfling snuck around to pick off their slingers.
Despite raining blows upon the kobold leader from every angle, we managed to slay him only with great difficulty and the divine aid of Custous’ sombre god Kelemvor, whose ruinous powers the man channeled into the skull of our foe. Before he expired, the kobold champion had mentioned being subservient to some sort of master. Interrogating the remaining captured kobolds through clever use of illusion magic, Cleo discovered that these creatures were bound in service to a mighty red dragon and set to work creating a suitable habitat for the great wyrm to reside in.
After some discussion, it was decided that the only way to stop the kobold attacks on the halfling village for good was to wipe the reptilian wretches out completely. Though it strained my conscience to stand by as our halfling companion executed the prisoners in brutal fashion, I knew there was little alternative. Without rest, we pushed deeper into the shadowy halls the kobolds had labored to hew from the rock. We encountered more of the creatures and swiftly defeated them, partly in thanks to the power of the cheetah spirit granted to me back home as part of my transition from boy to warrior.
While the others discussed our next course of action, I took a moment to study the environment that the kobolds had crafted for themselves. Though much of the underground complex was crude in construction, my eye was caught by an imposing statue hewn into a remarkable likeness of a dragon. Could it be that even these primitive creatures counted creative minds and skilled artisans amongst their numbers? My meanderings were interrupted by the truncated scream of yet another captive kobold having its life extinguished. I decided to push my moral reservations to the back of my consciousness to shift focus to the task at hand, the point of no return far behind.
After being temporarily confounded by a strange puzzle, we finally came upon the final room; an enormous treasure chamber that opened into the caldera of an active volcano. Our cursory inspection of the room, and the bounty therein, was quickly interrupted by the monstrous roar of a rapidly approaching dragon. Though I was loathe to miss out on the chance to liberate an artifact of great cultural significance from the gleaming pile that filled the other end of the chamber, my survival instincts led me to vacate the premises at once.
Two others, Hallrûn and the halfling, proved more brave, or avaricious, than myself, risking life and limb for a handful of trinkets. Before the duo could make good on their escape, the dragon arrived to put a halt to their attempted larceny. With a thundering voice that rumbled through the cavern like a storm cloud, the beast warned them to cease their escape, on the pain of death.
Perhaps he thought he could make it out in time, or perhaps he did not trust that a dragon could be reasoned with. Regardless of what motivated his decision to keep running, Hallrûn’s rejection of the monstrous drake’s demand was met with a terrible gout of annihilating fire, a conflagration of such unbearable intensity as to turn the elf’s bones to ash before my eyes.
Unknown to the rest of us at the time, the halfling had managed to somehow avoid the dragon’s breath, and now found himself a captive of the beast. In desperation, he offered up the location of the gate, along with the sequence needed to facilitate transport to a different alien world. Though the potentially disastrous consequences of the halfling’s decision to grant a powerful dragon access to the artifact are difficult to predict, I can’t find it within myself to blame the man for doing what it takes to stay alive.
With mixed feelings, we reported back to the halfling village where our journey started, before saying our goodbyes and returning through the portal to our own world. Though the undertaking was harrowing and ultimately of dubious benefit, I already look forward to the next time I will be allowed to step into the gate. Who knows what more that world had to offer? And how many fantastical realms yet await?
Karim Al-Justani; warrior, traveller, and as of now, Adventurer.
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