Jason S. Freeman Flitz's Journey
Into the Sunless Land
Many times during the last week, Flitz thought he was caught. The Drow, in pursuit of what they believed to be a human and a deep gnome, wearing shackles of restraint, used their scrying spells to locate their quarry. They got very close more than once. If it were not for the Svirvneblin talent for appearing to be as one with the stone and a few spells by Flitz, they could have had him.
Finally, exhausted and sore from eleven days of hard travel he reached the cave that led to the surface. He had no intention of actually going there, but this was the spot for him to leave behind the shackles. With the thought that his quarry had made it to the surface, Jarlaxyl would be forced to discontinue the search for him and the old human. His thoughts trailed to the young Drow he left behind in Menzo. He had managed to find a small group of them that were not like the Lolthian dark elves that populated most of the city. It was dangerous for males in particular to harbor discontent in their hearts for the lives forced upon them by the spider queen. Yet they had come together and found a different way, a small handful of rogues attempting to build a secret movement dedicated to freeing the Drow from Lolth's evil embrace.
A human slave had been brought to the city from far to the east of Faerun. He was considered valuable because he was a master of hand to hand combat, a style unique and unseen in the lands of the underdark. This old human had made his way into the hands of a lesser house that wished to incorporate his teaching into the warrior training for their house. It wasn't his fighting, but his philosophy that had inspired the minds of the young rogues. And so they plotted the best way to win his freedom from the priestesses of Lolth. Flitz played a factor in that escape. By freeing Flitz and having him lead the slave hunters in the wrong direction, he was allowing these subversive warriors to take their own first steps toward freedom. He would miss them dearly, but he was free.
The first few days of his escape were the easiest. It took time for his captors to realize he was gone, and then to organize a hunting party. The shackles he carried were enchanted with a wizard mark that allowed their masters to locate them with only a simple evocation, so they didn't believe they would have to hurry. Flitz carried both his own shackles and that of the old human. The Drow wizard would believe that they traveled together and that they were heading for the surface.
Flitz shrugged his low shoulders, and stretched his back to his full height of three feet. Scratching his short cut goa-tee, he tried to shake the travel wiriness from his head. With a mixed sigh of frustration and tension, he looked for a spot to throw his shackles. That done he searched his pouches to find the other magic item he'd been given. He pulled from his pouch a glass ball that contained a swirling greenish mist, and stepped toward the cave mouth.
"Good, its still night." Flitz muttered to himself as he looked to the sky for the first time in over two decades. He strolled out into the open air and gripped the ball tightly in one hand. With his other, he wiped the perspiration from his bald head. When the Drow came to find signs of where the escaped slaves may have gone, the sun will have destroyed the shards of the glass ball. It had been enchanted by the magic of the underdark and could not withstand the light of the sun. As with most magical items made in the lightless caverns, the sun would disintegrate all remains of the sphere. There would be no trace that Flitz had gone back to the underdark. He threw the ball to the ground and stared as the green mist rose in its familiar pattern. Soon he was drifting to the other side of the portal, far from the trail he'd left behind.
The vertigo didn't grip him as harshly as the last time he had used on of the teleportation spheres, but his wiriness took hold as soon as he felt solid rock beneath him. Scanning the cavern in which he now stood he saw that he was on the edge of the great mushroom forest of the under moor. Flitz knew he couldn't stay out in the open, so he found a secluded crack in the stone wall, large enough for him to crawl into. There he slept, he knew not for how long. Time is a difficult concept when you travel into the sunless land of the underdark.
* * *The Derro are a race of dwarf like creatures that live as tribes in the underdark. They are evil like few other races could claim to be. Cruelty is an art form that they excel in. The very weapons they use are designed to be harsh and painful. Often a Derro could increase his standing in the tribe by displaying his prowess at torturing a slave without killing it, keeping its victim alive for days. To all races of the underdark, the Derro were at least the most undesirable of companions; many times even to their own kind.
As the Derro patrol searched the caverns of the underdark they claimed as their own, they happened upon a sleeping deep gnome. Within moments, the hapless creature was bound and carried away by the evil creatures. The rude awakening was horrifying for Flitz. At first he had worried that the Drow hunters had puzzled out his ruse and caught him sleeping. Then with a growing dread, he began to realize that it was a Derro patrol and wished it had been the Drow. It was a testament to his will and the training he had suffered at the hands of the Drow that he was able to hide his emotions and not scream. He had suffered many beating at the hands of the Lolthian priestesses. If he cried out, or was unable to control his reaction to the pain, it encouraged them to beat him even more harshly.
Flitz studied his captors closely. The degenerate, dwarf-like creatures were thick, and stocky, as was normal to all dwarven races, these however, had heads that took on a more human visage. Their heads were too large for their bodies, and seemed grotesque with their face splitting grins. Rotten, blackened teeth lined their maws. Many were covered in soot or dried blood, as bathing was not common among them. Flitz nearly gagged at the smell that arose from their bodies.
He silently cursed himself as a Halfling fool, for allowing himself to get captured while asleep. Hopefully these creatures would eat him before any of his friends would find out that he had been so embarrassingly stupid! It was just that type of dunderheaded move that got most rookie underdark travelers killed, and it looked like Flitz was no exception to the rule.
No, Flitz couldn't afford to let himself think like that. Now is the time to study the enemy, find a weakness and therefore a means of escape. His hope of escape soon dimmed when he passed through a slave camp, where a hideous race of spider like creatures called the Neogi, traded slaves with the Derro. Luckily for him, the Derro decided to keep him instead of trading him as food to the Neogi. The one thing Flitz noticed with interest was the Neogi carried a large treasury. Perhaps he would return one day to relieve them of such a heavy burden.
For two days the Derro carried Flitz, strapped to a pole like a fresh killed rothe. They passed a large underground river that flowed away from the mushroom forest he had appeared in a few days ago. Finally they reached a deep cylindrical shaft that had a winding staircase clinging to the walls, descending it. Across the top of the shaft, was a beam that supported a weight and pulley system. It had obviously been built to carry down supplies, and booty stolen from raids on the other races. Flitz was unceremoniously dumped onto a platform, and lowered to the bottom, while the Derro climbed down the stairs.
Nearly half of a day was spent in the shaft, before reaching the bottom. The sheer walls of the cylinder were marred only by the stairway and gave Flitz's plans for escape even less hope. Finally he reached the bottom, that opened into a large cavern, teeming with Derro. The smell of unwashed bodies, old blood, and corpses assaulted him. He nearly lapsed into unconsciousness. It was the screams of the slaves being tortured for sport that kept him aware, and very nervous.
When Flitz had been young, though a few Drow say he never was, he had heard stories of the Derro demon- god. The tales were told to small children to keep them from wandering outside of the gnomish warrens. As gruesome as they were, they hadn't prepared the old fool for what he now beheld. The priests of Kostchtchie the demon lord piled the bodies of their latest victims onto a large pyre near a side shaft, to allow the smoke of the burning bodies to rise up and into the upper levels of the underdark. The stench would carry a warning to all of the other races to beware the Derro territory.
The bodies themselves were mangled and part eaten, most beyond even the recognition of their races. As his stomach heaved, he turned his head away from the bodies. Even after nearly sixty years as a slave to the Drow, he could not believe the savage, degenerate state that the Derro lived in. Though as a race the Drow were vicious and deserving of their evil reputation, they had laws and rules of behavior that allowed for the race to come together as a civilization. The Derro have no such code. Were it not for the Derro's superior resistance to disease, the revolting conditions in which they lived would have wiped them out long ago.
When his retching stopped, he watched the actions of these priests. They ruled this tribe, though only three in number,. Their feral visage and jagged weapons brought shivers to his spine and Flitz understood their cruelty, and hatred held no bounds. The priest stood in blood caked robes; the stench of dried gore hung over them like a cloud. Despair crept into his soul and any hope of escape fell from his mind, it was hopeless. A small blurr of movement gave him a brief respite from the demonic creatures waiting to tear into his flesh. A small mouse scampered into view, and transformed into a Derro priest right before Flitz's eyes.
The priest was as bald as Flitz, though a horrible rand of an unknown sigil broke the flesh of his hairless dome. The raised lines of the brand were oozing a foul smelling icor of black blood and puss. Flitz thanked the gods for the small blessing that his stomach had been long empty, a mercy that was not enough to keep him from beginning another short bout of dry heaves. Flitz barely had time to notice the hand of the priest quickly retreating from a ring on his opposite hand, as if trying to conceal the knowledge his transformation had been caused by the ring. This priest moved among the other two and they bowed to him, acknowledgment his higher rank. He stepped over to where the treasures the raiding party had brought. Between convulsions, Flitz watched as the priest examined the few baubles meant as a sacrifice to their god with extreme greed in his eyes, and then moved to Flitz to examine his new slave.
The priest poked at Flitz as if to examine his muscles and gauge his nature for signs of resistance. In an uncharacteristic fit or rage, Flitz suddenly forced his body toward the priest in a convulsive attack with his bound hands. Flitz's shoulder met the priest's own, and one of his hands grasped at the priest's filthy robe. His bonds got the better of him, and Flitz crashed painfully on the floor, rolling to his back as he hit.
The priest was enraged, and kicked the gnome violently several times. Flitz groaned in exaggerated pain, and the priest stopped, not wishing to kill him so quickly. He turned and barked orders to some guards that Flitz did not understand. Soon after, he rejoined the other priests in the ceremony to give the deaths of their victims to Kostchtchie.
The guards carried Flitz to a holding pin, where a few other slaves (mostly goblins) were being held. None of the guards noticed the smile on his face. Nor did the high priest realize that his magical ring was missing. Now he could plan an escape.
Hours passed before the priest sent for the gnome that had attacked him. Groft, high shaman of the tribe had been confused by the obviously Drow made weapons and armor that the gnome had carried. He had also been occupied by the silent search for his missing ring. If the other shaman knew Groft had lost one of his powers, they may see it as a sign of weakness and decide to plot against him. He decided to take his frustration out on a new victim. The gnome was brought into his temple, and thrown before a rune carved, stone alter. A thick covering of blood and grime encased the blasphemous stone. Flitz had to wonder how many pitiful creatures had lost their lives on its surface. Groft sat upon a stone chair directly behind the bloodied alter. Flitz noticed that all of his belongings lay across thes evil dais.
"Delmto!" Groft demanded in his native tongue, a language Flitz knew nothing about. Flitz only stared at the priest, a confused look on his face. He gnome studied Groft more closely now. The Derro had a large dwarven battle axe at his side, one of obvious worth and almost certain enchantment. No rings adorned the priest's fingers anymore, and he wore his medallion of faith on a steel chain. The medallion, more like a mini stone axe, fell dully upon his chest, and bobbed with the quick and frustrated breath of Groft.
"Delmto!" He exclaimed again, and the looked as though he searched his memory for some other expression. "Groft zhaun belaern!" The priest blurted with a smile on his face. It took Flitz a few minutes to realize that the priest was trying to speak Drow!
"Dos wund dro?" Groft asked more curious now than menacing.
Of course! This priest thinks I'm some sort of scout for the Drow.
"Yes, I was among the Drow." Flitz replied in the same dark elf language.
"Delmto! Explain!" Groft urged with his face again twisting in an evil mask of concentration.
Flitz's mind raced with several possibilities. He could try and make this Derro believe that he was indeed part of a Drow scouting party, but that may get him killed as a warning to the Drow invaders. Another alternative was to tell the truth, and offer to teach these Derro the same skills he helped teach the Drow, but the thought of another few decades of slavery turned his stomach. Better to die then allow that to happen. No. Better to escape and live!
With a sudden screech, Flitz shouted the magical phrase that would bring about a circle of darkness deeper even than the permanent gloom that reined in the underdark. The Derro, like most of the races of the sunless lands, had long ago developed a form of dark vision that allowed them to see even in the absolute lack of light; but his spell could even blind the eyes of a Drow. They could take his weapons, but they could not take his memory. He had precious few spells still memorized, but the few he had left were useful. As quickly as his starving legs would allow him, he leaped onto the alter and picked up his belongings.
Groft wailed in shock, and anger at the gnome. The guard that had brought Flitz to the temple ran into the door and slid to a halt just before the darkness spell's area of effect. Flitz knew he only had a few seconds, and stuffed everything into his back pack. With his heavy pack on, he leapt from the Dais, landing behind the Derro guard.
Just then Flitz heard Groft bellow and step forward with his axe head high. Flitz quickly turned the stone on his stolen ring. Instantly, Flitz and his gear shrunk to the size of a small mouse. All of his belongings were affected by the spell of the ring and disappeared leaving behind the fur on his back. As he felt the floor rise up to meet him he heard the axe swipe through the air. With a wet thud, Groft's axe cut cleanly through the surprised guard's neck. His head rolled past Flitz. The high shaman of the Derro tribe was also surprised by Flitz's transformation, that he shrieked in fury as though the death of his guard didn't bother him.
As quickly as his rodent legs would carry him, Flitz ran through the door of the temple, and out toward the platform at the center of the shaft. Bellows and foreign curses followed him through the door. The pudgy priest ran through the door with a spell on his lips, but was interrupted by another guard, stepping into his path. The two crashed together, and toppled to the floor. Flitz heard another swipe of the magical axe, but didn't need to look back to know the clumsy guard was dead.
In seconds, Flitz jumped onto the huge platform that had lowered him into the pit that was the Derro village. With only a thought the transformation began again, this time returning Flitz to the exact position he had been in when he first turned the ring. With his life on the line, Flitz didn't allow himself to falter for even a second. In one motion, he lifted his throwing dagger from his pack, and threw it into the counter weight line across the shaft. The finely crafted blade cut the rope with ease, and the platform lurched upward.
Flitz turned to the high shaman, and bowed deeply. The platform was already too high for any of the Derro to reach it. It moved with the speed of a falling boulder, for that was exactly what the counter weight had been. There was no way to catch the gnome on his sky rocketing lift to safety.
Later that day, Groft organized a search party to find the gnome. They would search for the rest of their lives if need be, the high Priest swore, but they would find this gnome and bring him back to the temple. There he would feast on the bones of the slave, and offer his blood to the demon- god of stone.
* * *The silence of the caverns was nearly as maddening as the thought of being hunted by those foul, dwarven degenerates; it drove Flitz almost to the point of paranoia. Flitz found his nerves were beginning to fray. He marched along steadily, knowing if they caught him he would die. His only hope was returning to a home he barely remembered. He would have to return to a suspicious people that would feel he'd been gone too long to be one of them. He couldn't blame them. He was different. Sixty years with the Drow had made him stronger, more dangerous. He had gained a harder edge that was needed for survival as a non-Drow in service of a Drow house.
His day dream nearly cost him more than his time, as he realized he stood on the edge of a cliff. With a surprised grunt, he threw himself backward, onto the floor. After cursing himself as an old fool, he sat up and looked around.
The cliff led down to a large cavern with many rock shelves, and overhangs. The floor was mostly rocky sand, due to the rushing river that carved its way across the floor. Phosphorescent fungus grew on many of the damp boulders, that scattered the riverbed, and there were many small creatures, lizards mostly, that ate the moss, and scurried around hoping no predator found them.
The black water of the river flowed across the cavern with rapid currents, keeping most of the local wildlife at bay. In spots across the water, pools of florescent light could be seen moving about. This brought a smile to old Flitz's face. It had been long since he'd been cave fishing.
The cliff held no danger for an old mining expert like Flitz, though he took his time with the descent. It was the ceiling that had Flitz worried. He could see a stress point in the rock above that looked ready to give way. It wouldn't bring down the whole roof, but could drop an unwanted predator into his lap. He decided to fish a bit down stream from the cracks.
Walking across the cavern floor, he tried to spot any places unexpected danger could pop out on him. He'd not survived a Drow city, and the Derro just to die by some brainless beast out for a snack.
Half way across the floor, he spotted a lizard scraping and skittering near a boulder. The little fellow acted as if it were stuck to the stone. Flitz stepped closer and peered at the lizard warily. It was actually stuck. The lizard was attached to a strand so thin, it was nearly invisible.
Tracing the strand with his eyes, Flitz saw that it led toward a cave near the edge of the river. Quickly, he reached for his pick axe, and planted his feet. For once, Flitz wished his instinct was wrong, but he knew that it wasn't. This strand was some kind of a trap. With a deep breath, he brought his pick axe down on the strand.
Cool liquid sprayed from the tiny strand, and a cry of something terrible echoed from the small cave. The strand, from the severed point back, was quickly retracted into the cave. Flitz could hear the cries of pain and fury the creature felt, as it rushed forth from the cave.
Flitz found himself momentarily stunned, as he saw this monstrosity. Its long snout resembled that of an ant eater, but was covered in grey scales. It's insect like, eight legged body moved with a surprising speed. Great plates of scaly armor covered its torso and lizard like tail. Near its fly like head, two long arms jutted forward ending in pincers. Flitz instantly recognized the beast as a cave fisher.
The creature moved toward Flitz in frenzy. Only the desire to continue living brought Flitz's mind back in time for him to act. With an arcane gesture, and a sharp command, he disappeared from the sight of the monster. Knowing the spell worked, Flitz rolled past the creature and readied his weapon. The fisher rushed in and crashed against the wall of the cavern. Dazed, it spun around looking for its prey. Flitz moved in and let his pick axe fly. The pick struck perfectly in the eye of the fiend, and stuck there. His attack dispelled his invisibility, and alerted the creature of his position. One of the oversized pincers lashed out and caught its victim.
Flitz's vision blurred a little, but the pain kept him from passing out. His mind could not focus on a useful spell. His panic began to take hold of him. Then, suddenly, he realized his pick axe was almost within reach. The beast had brought him close to its snout. Flitz tried to reach it, but the pain pushed him back. He watched in terror as the creature's misshapen maw grew closer. Finally he realized that the pain of reaching for his axe was worth his life, so he tried again. His hand closed around the wooden handle, and he pulled with all his might.
The fisher's eye exploded in a shower of the greenish blood. It let loose the howl of something alien to most men. Just as suddenly as it attacked, it fell dead, dropping Flitz to the stone floor.
His breath came in gasps. After a few moments of dizziness, he cleared his head. He needed rest, but most importantly, he needed food. He found a good spot, not far from the smaller cave entrance, and set about securing the area. The smaller cave was empty with the cave fisher gone. There were a couple of dried bones scattered about the floor, but no evidence of a mate. It would be perfect for a night's sleep.
Now for dinner, Flitz thought to himself. He made a makeshift pole from the dried bones, and a few pieces of twine. The bait was the hard part, but after several minutes of chasing one of the small lizards around, and a few scrapes on his nose, he attached the lizard to the hook. At least for a short while, Flitz could relax.
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