DUNGEONS & DRAGONS: Dawn of Revolution

The Master

Thirteen years before the coalition war began...

"Ah! No!"

Lachlan threw out his arms in desperation as he watched one of his prized sheep break free of his pasture's rickety wooden fence and trot into the wilderness. Lachlan only had two dozen sheep this year, so losing just one was a real bummer! So much lost wool and meat!

"Stop! Stop!" Lachlan cried, sprinting after his fleeing lamb. It was bad enough everyone in his farming community thought him a clumsy oaf who could barely tell an artichoke from a turnip, but if his fence fell apart and his flock scattered to the winds, he'd be the laughingstock forever!

"Oh, my!" Lachlan's neighbor's fiancee cried as her goliath neighbor dashed after the fleeing sheep. She was Owerba, a well-built sun elf lady with a distinct love of all things cow. "Lachlan, my darling Balert keeps saying you ought to fix your fence! That lamb's halfway to the mountains by now!"

"It sure is!" Lachlan panted, pumping his arms as he streaked past her. "Say hi to Balert for me!"

"I shall! And good luck!" Owerba hollered as Lachlan kept up the chase. She and Balert had such a cozy little farm where nothing went wrong! Well-fed cows, a perfect fence, a finely painted barn, weed-free vegetable gardens... ugh! They made it look so easy! The best farm in Talwydd!

And here was Lachlan, chasing his livestock. Again. If only he could afford a working dog! Well, maybe he could trade this year's wheat for a working dog if some traders passing through had some hounds to spare. But for now...

Owerba wasn't wrong. The loose sheep was bolting right for the towering Sneachta Mountains, the jagged peaks that loomed high over Lachlan's farming community. Or at least, the sheep was headed for the Sneachta foothills. Goliaths like Lachlan had no trouble navigating such rugged terrain - they were born for it! - but Lachlan wasn't the best tracker or hunter. Even the village chief, Orleith, had commented on it once or twice in passing.

Bah! Lachlan needed a real role model, someone to show him the way and make a man of him. Lachlan just felt so tiny chasing his stray sheep into wild terrain, far from the village he called home, wondering where his farming career had gone sour -

Whoa, this place felt wrong. Lachlan almost gasped with alarm as he suddenly felt like dozens of eyes were watching him, glaring coldly at him as he worked his way into the wooded foothills of the Sneachta Mountains. Was it wolves? Pumas? A prowling displacer beast, perhaps? No, those critters had a distinct sound when they walked with those six paws of theirs, claws clicking on stones. Lachlan, panting for breath, turned this way and that, scanning the foothills for any sign of his stalker.

Nothing.

"Come on... come on..." Lachlan muttered urgently as he kept probing the wilderness for his lost sheep, looking for any sign of its white fleece. All he got was that increasing sense of dreadful surveillance, and he felt his skin crawling in horror. Was it a green slaad in disguise, toying with him? Traders from all over Talwydd mentioned those shapeshifting creeps, and if Lachlan had one stalking him right now, what was he to do? His people believed that a battleaxe to the face could solve any problem, but what good is that when you don't know whose face to strike?!

There!

A flash of white gave away Lachlan's escaped sheep, and with renewed vigor, Lachlan jogged after it, trying to find a place where he could corner it and tackle the woolly beast. Within moments, he caught up, and found himself in the mouth of a great yawning cave. Cool, dry air washed out from the cave's mouth, with the sheep standing about thirty feet into the cave.

"Right here... right here..." Lachlan cautiously approached his woolly friend, gesturing as he went. The sheep looked over its shoulder at him, ears twitching. It made a cry, then pranced right into the cave, vanishing into the darkness.

"Blast it!" Now wasn't the time for any more hesitation, even with that dreadful feeling seeping into the foothills like a noxious miasma! It's sheep time!

Lachlan sprinted right in there, his feet pounding on the rocky floor, not caring that it felt terribly cramped in this place. He listened carefully for the sound of his sheep's hooves on the floor, or its bleats, any sign of the creature in this thick darkness. Lachlan kept stumbling this way and that, then saw a faint light up ahead. Ah, that oughta help -

Wait, light in a cave? Was someone here?

They'd better have his sheep!

Lachlan turned the corner and found the source of the light: a massive natural room lined with torches, filled with carved stone tables, a few iron cages, some scrolls, piles of treasure, and most of all...

It.

Lachlan stopped, rooted to the spot as he gazed upon the floating creature that dominated the room like a smug king. Lachlan took in its green-gray scaly skin, the slit-pupil eye with red-orange colors, the mouth of sharp teeth, the ten short tentacles with an eye on each end...

The creature spoke in a bizarre tongue, its voice filling the room. Lachlan hesitated for a moment, feeling his response rising in his throat, his entire body quaking. This was it. The moment. There was no going back now.

Lachlan fell to his knees and raised his hands in reverence. "YES!"

The creature, an exemplary beholder, floated a few feet closer, all eleven eyes fixed on the intruding goliath shepherd. "You are happy?" it asked in Common.

"M... Master!" Lachlan extended his arms to the beholder as though greeting a deity. "For years, I dreamed of meeting one of your kind! Wisest of sages, greatest of thinkers, nobility and grace made flesh!"

The beholder drew back a foot or two. "You speak praise. I did not expect this."

"No one in my village understands the majesty of your kind the way I do," Lachlan said, voice trembling in awe. "Everyone is a fool, most of all myself! But only I have the courage to implore you to make me your student! Teach me your ways so I may find my destiny!"

His heart raced in his chest, his mind buzzing with excitement. What fortune this was! Who cares about some lost sheep now?

"Destiny? Here?" the beholder said, its skepticism clear. "I dreamed myself to this remote corner to acclimate myself to your world's ways. The first phase of my plan to become this land's great liege."

"L-let me help!" Lachlan blurted out.

"You? Help me?"

"Yes, Master! I'll do anything!"

The beholder grunted. "I have my minions already. What use do I have for you?"

As it spoke, a pack of kobolds filed into the room, carrying wooden clubs. One of them held Lachlan's lost sheep, the creature squirming and bleating in panic.

The beholder turned to its kobold crew. "Let that yowling thing go. I have no use for it."

The kobold released its captive, and the terrorized sheep raced past Lachlan, probably headed for the cave entrance. Good; Lachlan didn't need livestock intruding on this formal meeting!

"Master," Lachlan said with reverence. "I am Lachlan Fearless Gwalachmai, ready to serve. Please, may I have the honor of your name?"
The beholder sighed. "I am Amachsliabh Domhanneag Arswadol Ucheir Hinsawddanu."

"Uh..."

"Perhaps you could call me Amach for your convenience. If I don't eat you first, that is."

"Master Amach! Please, teach me your ways! I am your humble minion, ready to serve!" Lachlan knelt and prostrated before the beholder.

Amach narrowed its main eye. "What could you gain from me? More importantly, little goliath, what could I gain from you?"

"I can spread your great name across the land," Lachlan offered. "And do your bidding. This place can be your kinddom with me by your side."

"Hmmmm. Well, it is true that I am young, and have not yet built my empire," Amach commented. It floated a few feet closer to the prostrating Lachlan. "And my army of minions is rather limited, now that I think about it." Amach briefly turned to face the kobolds, who chittered in their language, gesturing with their clubs.

"I can do more than any kobold," Lachlan promised. "Much more! I know these mountains. I know this land. I'll build an army for you! Then one day, your name will be feared across Talwydd!"

"That is this kingdom's name, yes?"

"It is."

"And you, little goliath, would help me rule it?"

"I sure will!"

Amach fell silent for a moment, and Lachlan didn't dare move a muscle while his master's genius mind mulled it over. Come on, come on... anything to break the tedium of farm life and become someone worthy of legend, with the master to guide the way!

"Rise, Lachlan," Amach finally said.

Lachlan eagerly sprang to his feet, all smiles. He was finally being acknowledged by name! "Yes, Master?"

"Your words ring true," Amach said haughtily. "Until I amass the power necessary to rule Talwydd, I need minions such as yourself. Go now, and spread my name for all to hear. Perform great acts in my name and do exactly as I say, Lachlan, and you will learn much from me. I believe we will both benefit greatly from this."

Lachlan put a hand to his heart. "I am yours to command, Master!"

Amach chuckled, a deep, rough, wet noise deep in its throat. Then it made a fanged smile. "My kobolds operate by night. You shall operate by night and day. Your first mission: to gather four prized rams and arrange them in the cardinal directions, one hundred feet each from your village's center. Then shear them and use the woll to spin a cloak for yourself."

Lachlan hesitated. "A cloak?"

"Of course! All servants of a higher power wear cloaks. The Great Old Ones demand it from their warlocks, and archdevils like Zariel wouldn't dare associate with anyone not wearing a fine red cloak."

"So, what color should my cloak be, Master?"

"Hmmmmm... blue. No, a fine dark green."

"At once, my Master!"

"When you have done this, Lachlan, report to me for your next task. Through acts of service, you will prove your fealty and devotion to my new empire."

Lachlan felt like his heart would explode with excitement! He couldn't stop a wide smile to match Amach's own. "I shall, my Master! I must be off!" He turned and sprinted out of the cave, feeling like he was being reborn with glorious purpose as he burst out of the cave's mouth and into the foothills. There was no time to waste!

It felt like no time at all before Lachlan retrieved his confused lost sheep, returned to his village with his lamb in his arms, then got ready for his first trial! He made a stop by his modest house to get his shears, then paid a visit to his pasture and picked four fine rams to become the keys to his destiny. Now, which way was north? Lachlan used his fingers and squinted at the sun, comparing its angle to the towering Sneachta Mountains. Ah, that way! He held a bleating ram and got moving.

"What are you doing?" Balert, a human man with a mop of brown hair, asked with bewilderment. He was carrying an armload of logs back to his house.

"Got a little project in mind!" Lachlan said over his shoulder as he kept moving. "Don't mind me."

"By the way, Owerba said one of your ewes ran off. Did you find it?"

"Hmmm? I'll find it later! See you!" Lachlan didn't dare stop, no matter how many questions his neighbors had. Time for that cape! Lachlan set the ram in position, scratched its head to set it at ease, then got shearing. The confused ram let out a bleat, not used to getting sheared at this time of year. But it was a necessary sacrifice, and in return, Lachlan was doubly careful with his prized ram as he worked his shears across its wool. There, there - its wool would grow back in due time.

Three more times Lachlan arranged his rams in the cardinal directions, and once had that armload of wool, he brought it to the village's most skilled weaver, a middle-aged earth genasi lady named Faba.

"I need a cloak, please. A majestic one," Lachlan said. "I'll repay you however I must!"

Faba raised her eyebrows. "You've got a winter coat already, don't you, son? What's the cloak for?"

Lachlan shrugged. "I'm feeling... fancy this season. Please? And I need it tomorrow."

Faba nodded once and accepted the wool. "Very well. But dye will cost you extra, assuming you want colors."

"A rich, dark green would be wonderful."

"Right you are, son. Now, I must get to work."

Lachlan was all smiles once again as he headed off to catch up on his other chores. And early the next morning, when he paid Faba a visit...

"Amazing! And right on time," Lachlan said brightly once he fastened his new cloak around his neck and shoulders, spinning around in Faba's home to test the feel of it. "I cannot thank you enough."

Faba grunted. "You're welcome. And come back later to bargain the price with me. Until then, I gotta fix breakfast for my family."

"I shall!"

For now, though, Lachlan had business with his master! He neglected his own morning chores to sprint all the way to the Sneachta Mountain foothills, wandered right into the cave, and was greeted by one of Amach's kobolds, which led him through the maze of cave tunnels.

"I have arrived, Master," Lachlan said solemnly as he strode into Lachlan's lair, hands on his hips. "Does this please you?"

A few of the kobolds hid their laughter behind their hands, but who cares what those scamps thought? Amach turned and gave Lachlan an approving nod when his main eye got a good look at his #1 minion.

"Good. You have the bearing of a true servant," Amach said. "I can feel my empire coming together already."

Lachlan knelt and prostrated once again. "I am ready for my next task, Master."

"Indeed you are. This time, I need you to gather enough hay bales to form a pyramid forty feet high. Build it right in front of the village chief's home. It's a symbolic gesture of my impending superiority over the land."

A couple of the kobolds chuckled at that. Lachlan ignored those scoundrels. "Yes, Master! It shall be done!"

And it was! Lachlan didn't care how far behind he was on his chores. Using some elbow grease to build that itchy monument to Amach's greatness was his top priority! A few villagers stopped to stare, and a few asked what in the world he was doing. And Faba wanted her payment!

"It's... for a new festival I'm inventing," Lachlan said as he put the finishing touches on the monument. "I'll call it... the Hay Gala!"

"Such a fool," someone muttered.

"I'll repay you soon, Faba! But I'm busy for now," Lachlan called down to her. Then he climbed down and jogged back home before the village chief could see this and yell at him to get rid of it.

The next day, Lachlan reported back to his glorious master in the cave, and Amach chuckled when he heard the tale. "Excellent work, Lachlan," Amach told him. "But there is more to do. Now, get a shovel and dig an arcane rune in your village so I may begin channeling my true power from the Far Realms. As for its appearance, refer to this."

Amach gestured with an eye stalk, prompting a kobold to retrieve a scroll from a rickety bookshelf. Lachlan unrolled it to study the fascinating design and scampered off to make it happen.

"Whoa! Don't tell me you're plantin' something in the road?" Owerba asked later that day when Lachlan got busy digging the lines to form Amach's rune.

Lachlan shook his head. "It's not for seeds, Owerba. I'm digging a good luck charm around the village. Redcaps have been more active lately around here, y'know. Horrible creatures."

"They sure are," Owerba agreed. "But why dig this rune now? We could have used this right when spring started!"

"Oh. Well, been busy. I kept putting this off," Lachlan fibbed. "Sorry for the delay. I'll make up for it with hard work!"

Owerba smiled. "You're so thoughtful, Lachlan! I ought to ask a few folks to help you."

"It's nothing," Lachlan panted. This was tough work! "I can handle it." If he got help, surely Amach would call that cheating!

"Lachlan! You still owe me for that cloak," Faba added as she passed by, a basket of vegetables in hand.

Lachlan waved. "Soon, I promise!"

"Hmph!"

Amach was most pleased to hear of the eldritch rune carved into the village's territory! But while Amach gathered power from the Far Realm to begin building his empire, he needed a ritual done to increase the flow of power. So, Lachlan got busy with his latest task.

"What the devil is this?" the village chief, an elderly firbolg man named Orleith, barked when he spotted Lachlan's newest stunt that evening. That pyramid of hay was still in front of his house, too.

"It's a ritualistic ward against evil," Lachlan explained as he continued his bizarre dance in the village center, near the well. "My rune will keep away smaller varmints like redcaps, but if night hags come knockin', I'll be ready with this dance!"

More and more villagers gathered to watch Lachlan dancing while waving two lit torches, with two lit candles strapped to his head with a leather belt. Owerba was clearly trying not to laugh, while her fiance stared in disbelief, and Faba again demanded compensation for the cloak.

"No need to thank me!" Lachlan added as he kept dancing into the evening twilight, the fire brilliantly glowing. "We'll have a good, safe harvest this year. Trust me!"

"Damn fool boy," Orleith grumbled. "Someone oughta knock some sense into you."

"Such a troublemaker," one of the wives commented, and her husband nodded.

Lachlan didn't mind, though, because no one understood what he stood to gain here! He was on the cusp of greatness, and he would leave the simple farm life far behind, forever and ever! Already, his lifestyle as a shepherd and garden-weeder felt so silly, so small. A small part of him felt bad for his fellow villagers, who would keep grinding away in their routine lives forever in this obscure corner of the Fae Queendom of Talwydd. Oh, well!

For the next week, Lachlan dutifully performed incredible feats at Amach's guidance, including building an effigy of Amach's worst enemy, a mind flayer archmage named Yldawch-Zemdar, and burning it in the center of the village's rune (all while Lachlan watched from atop the hay bale pyramid). He also crowed like a rooster at the top of his lungs on the hour every hour for an entire day (he grew weary from sustaining himself on short naps), and he even made a prayer on the mayor's house's roof to call down glorious blue lightning to bless these lands. All for Amach the master!

But then...

"It's to protect the village! What if bugbears attack?" Lachlan cried as the villagers surrounded him one morning as he performed another ritual in the rune's center. He was halfway through an arcane dance with a carved-out pumpkin for a helmet and socks on his hands when Orleith and his mob interrupted.

"ENOUGH!" Orleith barked, gripping his walking stick tightly. "I don't know what manner of fiend possessed you, Lachlan, but it ends here!"

"No. It begins now!" Lachlan declared, and he threw out his arms in a dramatic pose to finish the ritual. Nothing in particular happened.

Orleith stomped forward and yanked the pumpkin off Lachlan's head. "That does it. We're carting you off to your uncle's farm in the next town over. He'll teach you a lesson or two about livin' the sensible life!"

"No! Anything but that!" Lachlan pleaded, knowing how strict his mother's older brother could be. "Just give me another week, sir! I'm protecting the town! In ways only I know how!"

Orleith scoffed, then dragged Lachlan away by the ear. "Get on the cart, Lachlan. Whatever nonsense is rattling around in your head, your uncle will work it out of you! He's gonna be your master, boy. Serve him well."

"No!" But it was inevitable. Lachlan couldn't bring himself to resist as his fellow villagers escorted him to a waiting mule-drawn wagon, and off he went, trundling down the dirt road to his hardass uncle Gwellom's farm! What could his uncle teach him compared to the infinite cosmic wisdom of a beholder?!

How could it all end here? How?! Amach was going to teach Lachlan a vital lesson about life, Lachlan lamented as he continued his shameful journey. Lachlan stood so much to learn! Now he would never know what Amach had in mind.

It was halfway to the neighboring farm, when Lachlan had time to calm down and think more clearly, when... hold on, it finally dawned on him. Lachlan clapped a hand to his face and felt it all melting away. Of course! Amach wasn't going to teach him any real stuff, just a lesson about toying with powers beyond his ken. The strange rituals and deeds, the public humiliation... all to drive the villagers to send Lachlan right into his uncle Gwellom's lap. A lesson indeed! Just not the one Lachlan was expecting.

And what did Amach get in return? Probably some much-desired peace and quiet! Now that was a bargain... if you're a genius beholder!