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-- 8/18/6526 --
Aristobulus checked one last time to be certain he had everything in
his pack. He knew everything was there, but yet that nagging, meticulous
portion of his mind required that everything be just so, and that he be
certain that it was that way. His inspection showed that everything was
indeed in place, right down to the ridiculously huge spellbook he had
taken from that dead mage, Jimar. One of these days he was going to have
to find some way of disposing of its bulk in a useful or at least amusing
manner.
With any decent luck, the opportunity would present itself soon, for
he was tired of carrying its worthless bulk. After all, he had already
copied the useful spells from it into his own spellbook some time back.
He was tempted to just leave it here in the room he had appropriated from
the werewolf after her death. Being dead, she had certainly had no
further need for it.
However, Aristo had no plans of returning to this room in the near
future, instead aiming to press on into the depths of these subterranean
tunnels. Quaint though it might be with its relics of the werewolf's
explorations of these caverns, Ari had no urges to settle down just yet.
His aims were more toward finding his way into the deepest and darkest
chambers of the underrealm.
He knew of one stairway to the lower levels, but since he had already
seen it, albeit not descended, Aristo was not inclined to return to it.
Rather would he seek out a different means of access to the lower levels,
embracing the sense of accomplishment and adventure accompanying new
discoveries. That was what his quest was all about: not returning to
where he had once been, but going somewhere different and seeing what he
might discover and learn in the process.
From the gnomes he had learned that passages between the various
levels of the tunnels where relatively plentiful, though relative to what
they had not mentioned. Fortunately, Aristo had managed to cut off the
gnomes before they had blathered out the locations of some of those
stairways and ruined everything. After all, where was the sense of
adventure when everyone was telling you which way to go?
The gnomes had not realized that. But then, they seldom shut up
enough to realize much of anything. It was for that reason that Aristo
had returned the werewolf room. After several days of ceaseless gnomish
blabbering, he had needed a respite for his sanity before resuming his
quest. If he had charged off for new territory filled with the
irritations their proximity had brought him, Aristo's mind would have been
too occupied to fully experience the joy of the quest.
But having had his chance to meditate and shake off the irritations
heaped upon him by the gnomes and empty his mind of the distractions of
life, Aristobulus was fully ready to appreciate the thrill of his search
for the lost wisdom said to lie in these tunnels and caverns.
So, shouldering his pack, he turned his eyes to this room for what he
hoped would be the last time, at least for some time yet to come.
Nevertheless, he had a nagging feeling that he was not quite that lucky.
But then, he seldom was, and it was for that reason he had finally
descended into this vast subterranean realm -- to irrevocably turn away
from the ill luck of his past and forge a new and potentially better
future. After all, he doubted it could get much worse. But with the
downward trend in his life, that was still far from impossible.
Shaking off such disagreeable reminiscing, Aristobulus instead passed
through the secret door to one side of the room and set off for another
session of dungeon delving, his spirit lighter than it had been in some
time.
Taking a different exit from the room at the opposite end of the
secret passage, Aristo almost immediately found himself ambushed by four
hobgoblins. The cruel, angular faces of the humanoids split with glee at
the prospect of slaying or perhaps even torturing an elf. But their glee
turned to fear as they found this was one elf who could defend himself.
In moments, the four assailants were scattered over the floor, dead or
dying, like so many broken dolls. Aristobulus straightened his pack, not
a scratch on him. The only sword blow that had come near to hitting him
had been deflected by his armor spell. Ari was coming to love his growing
skill at spell-casting.
If nothing else, his magical powers were growing in the course of his
wanderings in this lightless world. And for that he was delighted, since
his greater skill at magic would allow him more opportunity to manipulate
the world around him -- to change it to conform to his own wishes.
Perhaps he would even become powerful enough to use that legendary spell
known as "wish". Now that would be an unbelievably wonderful thing.
However, he had never heard tell of any elven mage ever becoming
great enough to use that all-powerful spell. Only a very few humans were
said to ever become powerful enough to do so. And that seemed very
strange to Aristo, for he knew that elven mages, for all of their
problems, were superior to their human counterparts. Perhaps that was
because humans had even more problems than elves, such as their
unbelievably short life-spans. Had he been a human, Aristo would have
been in his grave more than a century ago, dead from old age. Still, that
did have an allure of its own, now didn't it? Ari grinned to himself.
For all of their problems, perhaps their short lives were a boon,
preventing them from suffering too long in the physical world. However,
he had to admit, it was the quality of the suffering, and not the
duration, that was of import.
But none of this bothered Aristobulus. If he troubled himself to
live long enough, he was certain he would become that powerful. This was
naught more than more of the demented weirdness of reality which had
encouraged him to travel down beneath the surface of the world, to seek a
new and different realm to inhabit. Said to be filled with magical
wonders and mind-twisting vistas, the allure of this realm had been too
great for Aristo to pass by. Now, if he could but find some of those
preternatural regions.
As his mind continued wandering along those intriguing lines and he
pressed on in his investigations of these tunnels, Aristo noticed an
unusual stone in one wall which did not quite fit into place. Taking hold
of the stone with his fingernails, he gave it a tug, causing it to swing
outwards with a loud grinding of stone against stone. This secret passage
led into a natural-formed, spacious cavern.
Taking a moment to wander around the stalagmites and other natural
stone formations, absorbing this change of scenery, Aristo wondered why
anyone would hide the only entrance to this place in the form of a secret
doorway, for he could make out no other ground-level exits from the
cavern. The only other means of egress visible to his heat-sensitive eyes
were some rough openings in the stone near the ceiling some fifty feet or
so above his head.
Aristo's sightseeing was disturbed as a pair of giant bats darted
down from above and wheeled in the air over his head. Considering that
the giant bats survived with the secret door closed, Aristobulus assumed
that the openings near the roof of the cave must lead somewhere. But his
attention was soon diverted towards avoiding their diving and spinning
around his head, for their aerial acrobatics were turning into an attack
as they tried to claw and bite him. The spectacle would have been worth
watching had Aristo not been at the center of it.
As such, he decided it would save time and potentially a few more
unwanted wounds if he were to convince them to leave him alone. Using the
most expedient method he knew, Aristo cleaved off the wing of one bat with
his sword and slashing it viciously with his dagger as it plummeted past
him to slam into the stone wall. This seemed to irritate the other who
was squeaking angrily and attacked with renewed fury. Perhaps they had
been mates, Aristo considered to himself. If so, then it would be best
for them to not be parted. Aristo cut the other from the air as if he had
cut a string from which it had been suspended. Now it was dead as well,
so their bones might keep each other company for eternity... Or until
some scavengers found their remains, whichever came first.
Observing no other flying rodents, giant or otherwise, Aristo
considered the openings high above his head. His curiosity was roused as
he wondered about where they might lead. Giving in to his whim, Ari
examined the rough stone wall of the cave. There were enough hand-holds
for him to climb up to the opens high above.
Aristo checked to make certain all of his equipment was securely in
place and would not fall off while he was clinging to some precarious
hand-hold and consequently throw him off balance. Taking a firm grip on
the nearest outcropping of rock, Aristobulus started making his way up the
wall.
In a couple of minutes, Aristo had swiftly made his way up the wall
to one of the small openings. Crawling into it, Aristo found himself in a
small tunnel just large enough for one of those giant bats to fly through.
The tunnel seemed to lead onwards for some distance, sloping gently
upwards. Doubting it led anywhere useful to him, Ari made his way back
out of the water-carved tunnel and inched his way over to the next
opening.
Finding all of the tunnels to be essentially similar and seeing
nothing immediately appealing, Aristo climbed back down the side of the
cave and made his way through the forest of stalagmites to the secret door
and back to the same old hewn stone passages. He resealed the secret
doorway that the remains of the giant bats might remain in silent,
undisturbed dignity where they lay, splattered over one side of the cave.
Resuming his way, the elven seeker of wisdom wandered through several
empty rooms and corridors before almost literally stumbling across the
lair of a pack of gnolls. Making his way silently through a door, for he
hated making any noise and disturbing the sweet silence of these passages,
Aristo found himself confronting a tall and hairy dog-faced humanoid who
was leaning against a wall, fast asleep.
Recognizing that this gnoll was obviously a guard, Ari was curious as
to just what the repugnant bugger was guarding. Beyond the guard there
was a dim level of torch light. Skulking down the passage to where it
opened up into a large chamber, Aristo observed a number of other gnolls
were gathered around a brazier which served as a cook-fire. He ducked
into the murky shadows around the edge of the chamber. The room was piled
with stacks of crates, barrels, and just plain junk, which afforded
Aristobulus plenty of cover for concealing himself.
The smoke from the brazier did little to cover the thick, musky scent
of beasts and unwashed bodies. Looking up near the ceiling to where he
could just make out a ventilation grill slowly sucking in wisps of smoke,
Ari doubted even a gale-force wind would do much towards clearing the
stench from the room.
Consequently, Aristobulus was surprised when one of the gnolls raised
his head and grumbled something in the tongue of gnolls, which Ari could
just make out as "I smells elf meat." For a moment Aristo thought he
might end up having to bash in a few gnollish skulls, and at the moment
yet another pointless fight was not what he wanted to get caught in.
Granted, he would fight when needed, but he would rather prefer something
a bit more spectacular that mindlessly wading into battle and carving up a
lot of smelly monsters, like strangling them, or setting them on fire,
blowing them up, convincing them to leap off of a tall cliff, or something
along those lines.
But then another gnoll walloped the first over the head with a
dismembered humanoid leg and proclaimed, "There's your blasted elf meat,
dung head!" before returning to his business of devouring the leg. Aristo
had to cover his mouth and force down a bellow of laughter. What a
fitting end to an elf. Stuck-up, self-confident, and over-assured
described every elf Ari could think of, and for one of them to end up
dinner for a pack of cretinous gnolls was all too befitting.
While the gnolls resumed their distinctive cuisine, Ari turned his
attention to the contents of the large chamber, nosing around the gnolls'
belongings for anything of value to his curiosity. But there was little
other than supplies and victuals, none of which appealed to Ari's more
distinguishing palate.
After cautiously continuing into another, even more vast chamber of
the gnolls' abode, Aristobulus still found naught in the way of valuables
worth filching. Bored of all this, Aristo started to make his way back
out of the unsavory lair. He considered leaving a few calling cards for
them. Maybe disembowel a couple gnolls, or perhaps behead a few and place
their heads someplace prominent? No, gnolls were too uncivilized for it
to be enough of a satisfying shock. Maybe set a few on fire? No, the
smell of burning gnolls made Aristo gag. It was almost as bad as orc
flambe.
As he was considering these and other ideas, a gnoll scout came
scurrying in from another exit, declaring that there was a troop of some
dozen halflings moving through a nearby passage. The gnolls become
excited at the opportunity of ambushing some halflings. This roused Ari's
attention as well. It might be entertaining for all of a minute or so.
More than ten of the dog-men loped down the passage after the scout,
eager to add some fresh halfling to their list of dessert entrees.
Discreetly tagging along some distance behind the oblivious humanoids,
Aristo followed them to a fair-sized chamber. Aside from the door through
which he observed the gnolls, there was another door and two passages
exiting the room where the gnolls where huddled, eagerly making their
plans.
The gnolls started to break up, setting up their positions for the
ambush. Some of them were hiding down one of the passages, while a couple
of others were heading towards the door through which Aristo was peeping.
Backing off to hide, Ari considered the set-up. He allowed that it
would be a passable ambush, and should actually work on a troop of
cloddish halflings. But what were those mud-burrowers doing down here
anyway? They normally were only to be found in pastoral settings, eking
out boring lives in hedgerows and endless warrens dug in the earth like
those of burrowing rodents where they spent their lives gorging themselves
on everything in sight and complementing themselves on the high quality of
their existences.
Ah, who cares. They would get slaughtered by these gnolls, so it was
all academic anyway.
Then again, maybe he could even up the odds for them for some added
enjoyment.
Aristo snuck up behind the pair of gnolls hiding behind the door and
decided to get their attention that he might convince them to even the
odds and give the halflings a modicum of a fighting chance. Ari thrust
his dagger into the back of one gnoll and his sword into the other.
Gurgling in stereo, the two dog-faces keeled over dead.
Muttering to himself, Aristo commented, "I dare say, that definitely
got their attention."
Then he considered how much more effective that was than simply
tapping someone on the shoulder, since it was not so easily ignored. He
would have to remember it as a way of getting people's attention. He hid
as the last two gnolls chose to conceal themselves in this side chamber as
well. Ari returned to his hiding place. This pair of gnolls was
surprised to see their two fellows dead, but not as surprised as when Ari
thrust his blades into their backs. They dropped with relatively little
sound beyond their death rattles.
Considering the eight or so remaining gnolls, Ari felt that the odds
were still too much in favor of the gnolls. They were much larger and
more powerful than the diminutive and incompetent halflings. Aristo
figured it would be roughly even with only four or perhaps five gnolls.
Therefore, Ari cast a spell of sleep on the several who were hiding in one
side passage, then snuck over to examine his handiwork.
The halflings rambled into the chamber and the last four gnolls
sprung what remained of their ambush. There were squeals of fright from
the halflings as they struggled to bring their weapons to bear against
opponents almost thrice their size and vastly more aggressive.
The gnolls crashed into the midst of the halflings, for a moment
gleefully hacking into the three-foot tall, furry-footed humanoids. But
this soon ended when the gnolls perceived that the rest of the ambushers
had not shown up for the fun and festivities. Although the halflings were
only managing a tolerably mediocre defense at best, the gnolls feared the
worst since their fellows were absent. Consequently, the craven gnolls
fled, yelping in their frightened confusion.
The group of halflings were bewildered at this strange farce of an
ambush. Fearing it to be some manner of trick, they quickly checked the
area for other gnolls. They did find more gnolls, but all dead. And
standing over some of the dead monsters was Aristobulus, busy cleaning his
sword. Observing the confused halflings, he brought up his sword,
saluting them.
Not knowing what to think of this grey elf, one halfling took a
faltering step forwards, putting to Aristo, "Did you slay these gnolls?"
"That should be obvious," Ari pointed out, growing annoyed, his sense
of pleasure fading. Halflings were about as intuitive as children, and
Aristo never could tolerate brats. "Why, do you object?"
"Certainly not," pronounced another halfling, who seemed to be the
leader of the group. "You have saved our lives. We never would have been
able to fight off this many gnolls without your help."
He should have seen this coming. Aristobulus groaned inwardly, hit
by a sudden air of heaviness as the halfling continued on in an impromptu
speech, declaring Ari a hero. Speeches, and tongue-wagging in general,
were one of the few things halflings were half-competent at. For Ari, it
was by far too much. He felt the last of his good mood slipping away, the
bungled ambush now naught more than a fleeting memory. Halflings were
almost as good as dwarves when it came to ruining Ari's sparse good moods.
And here were these halflings proclaiming a complete stranger who
happened to kill some gnolls to be a hero. And most likely, it was
because Aristo was an elf, and elves were universally considered to be
good beings, if somewhat flighty. The thought that he was being lumped
together with all other light elves darkened Aristo's mood considerably
further. He had no wish to be considered just another elf. He was
Aristobulus the Dark.
Granted, he might be trapped in the body of a grey elf, but it was
through no choice of his own. He could not stand other elves. Their
cheerful, light-hearted attitude towards life made him sick. They
steadfastly refused to accept the dreary pointlessness of existence. To
be viewed as if he were one of such a nauseating group of people brought
Aristo to the verge of anger.
If they knew why Aristo had taken out those gnolls, they might not be
so eager to deem him a hero and number him amongst the disgusting number
of good and helpful elves in the world. For this Ari was tempted to tell
them the truth before a thought occurred to him. Perhaps there was a way
for him to teach them to not be so gullible to appearances. This served
well to lighten his heavy emotions.
Aristo pretended to go along with this farce, eager only for the
diversions it would provide him. The halflings cheered when Aristo
accepted their invitation to a banquet in his honor. Trust halflings to
use any excuse to set a party and gorge themselves, Ari thought to
himself.
The troop of halflings led Ari down a long series of passages,
eventually reaching their encampment. Aristo noted the route they took,
keeping track of several side-passages which would serve as a means of
rapid egress should such become necessary.
The encampment itself took the form of several large chambers
comfortably appointed, yet again reaffirming Aristo's observation that
most of the useful or valuable stuff was gathered up by the inhabitants of
these caverns, accounting for all of the empty rooms or rooms filled with
trash and broken tools and furnishings. One thing Aristo observed was
that there appeared to be only the one exit. So these foolish halflings
had placed themselves in a corner. Granted, they need only worry about
keeping watch over one passage, but that still left them nowhere to go
should they be overwhelmed, which would not take very much, all things
considered. Halflings were not competent warriors, as had just been
superbly demonstrated to him, though it certainly had not been necessary.
Still, there was the possibility of a hidden exit. But if it were
hidden they would not likely have been able to find it on their own
without an exceptional stroke of luck, and if they had hidden it
themselves, Ari was certain it would take little effort for him to find it
-- like, for instance, looking in its general direction. Halflings were
not skillful builders.
Aristo took a close look at the fifty-some-odd halflings residing in
these chambers. They did not appear to be living poorly. But then,
halflings seldom did. They were fat and well dressed: the two most
important things to a halfling. There were a few of their number dressed
in armor and wielding down-sized weapons, but they looked no more
competent than typical halfling warriors, which is to say, not very.
Aristo was at a loss for how they survived down here. They were
certainly easy prey for the more dangerous denizens of the underrealm.
And from what Ari had seen, surviving down here was a constant struggle,
and the worst struggle any halfling usually experienced was in deciding
what to have for dinner. Whatever were a lazy lot of people like these
halflings doing down here? Aristo was at a loss for the answer to this
question as well.
As soon as word of Aristo's actions was spread to all of the
halflings present (which is to say, after one of the halflings stood on a
dais in the largest chamber and launched into a heroic account of the
furious battle wherein the halflings had been holding their ground against
some two score gnolls until Aristo had stepped in and stood shoulder to
should with them and they had then proceeded to vanquish the vile dog-
headed monsters) the room-full of halflings voiced a hearty cheer and a
victory banquet was announced.
The ever-present dinner preparations were stepped up at this, for the
halflings were glad for the excuse to have an even more spectacular feast
than their typical dinner-feast. As the preparations were doubled, and
doubled again, Aristo was mobbed by those not involved in either fixing
the feast or filching bites of this or that and giving unwanted advice.
Taking advantage of the opportunity to make themselves the centers of
attention, several others had appropriated tables already buried beneath
the dinner preparations, launching into countless speeches and endless
posturing as they strove for the acclaim of their fellows, and grabbing
mouthfuls of food whenever they paused for a breath. In the end, each
speaker wove as much praise for himself as he did for Aristobulus. Aristo
tried not to show too much of the distaste he felt at this affair.
Aside from the speeches, Aristo found himself the recipient of
adoring smiles from some of the pudgy female halflings present. True,
Aristo was considered attractive, especially by other races who viewed
elvenkind as being exceptionally beautiful. But to Aristo, halflings
certainly were a homely lot, and however fair he might be would only be
enhanced by the uncomely halflings around him.
At one point, Aristobulus was compelled to make a speech of his own.
Though brief, especially by halfling standards, Aristo made certain to
praise his hosts generously, who wallowed in the compliments, glad that
this elf recognized their rightful place in the world. Only Aristo
appreciated the great irony of that.
Aristo kept himself busy and distracted from the annoyances of these
proceedings by examining the contents of the pockets of any halflings who
came too close to him. In the pocket of one woman he found a gold ring
which was useless to him, so he secreted it in the pocket of another
female, distracting himself momentarily by considering to himself what
might happen should the ring be found in the possession of the other.
From another pouch he produced a bone comb, which was then placed on
a nearby table, for Ari had no wish to get close to that particular
halfling again, who obviously never used the matted, grungy thing. From
one fellow, Ari obtained a few silver coins, which were surreptitiously
added to the contents of Ari's own money pouch. Reaching into another
pocket, Ari felt a small bottle, like a bottle of perfume. This he left
were is was, thinking to himself that the lass could stand to use a few
gallons of it on herself.
In time, the tongue-wagging ended when halfling hungers exceeded
their capacity for listening to pompous oratories. They dove into the
feast with their usual fervor. The food proved to be quite delicious.
Food, after all, was the sole redeeming factor for halflings. But however
great it was, it barely made up for their failings: their laughing, jovial
nature and crude, rural ways made them almost as bad as gnomes. How
depressing. A person could be compelled to kill himself by the annoying
natures of the diverse peoples of the world. Nay, that would spoil the
fun Ari had planned.
After some hours of gorging themselves, the halflings began to waddle
off to their beds, exhausted by the exertions of revelry and gluttony.
Aristo was shown to a comfortable pallet in a more-or-less private corner.
In time, the last of the revellers had either stumbled off to sleep or lay
where they had passed out.