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A Tale of the Mansion of the Malevolent
In the far western reaches of Thera, where few mortals dare to tread, unless they are bold of heart, spirited, or so dogged mercenary, and lustful for gold they care not what hazards their lives might be subjected to in an expedition, stands the foulest, most evil ruin that ever was upon the face of Thera. In this ruin, who's very name expresses the black purposes of the evil residents within, Mansion of the Malevolent, are hidden piles of gold, and treasure, to make any mortal with a sword, sick with greed, and breathless with anticipation to line their pockets with its untold wealth. The journey itself is treacherous. One proceeds down the western road, where devils, knaves, and villains lay in wait for the unsuspecting passer by, then leap out upon them with murderous intent. If you pass on to Haon Dor, your luck will fare no better, and from thence to Drkshyre Wood! Little need be said about the dangerous arachnids that spin their webs among the black trunks and tangling underbrush of Drkshtyre. If a passing Gnoll does not rend and tear your flesh, or a hairy spider make a meal of your blood then a little further north, and west the malarious, and putrid waters of the River Azial will give you much pleasure, I'm sure. Despite all of these ills, I found myself in the company of a dwarf, and a crafty bard on the western road to the mansion. The dwarf, who's name was Dimwor, was a ferocious berserker. I had met him at a tavern in Seringale the night before. Admittedly, your chances for finding suitable, and reliable companions, for an expedition drastically spiral downwards, when gambling away your life savings in a bawdy house at the same time. However, luck was on my side, in that regard if not at the tables. I was having a terr-i-ble run! As the licentious spinner raked away my stakes, this pretentious dwarf roared with laughter, and delight at a side table. He was apparently quite entertained with my sour luck. I shot him an angry glance, "Whats so jolly about losing thousands of gold crowns, my dwarf? He drank out of a tankard, and spat,...hrmmm,...first of all,...I'm nawt,...'my dwa'rf' as you say,....the names Dimwor,...or Dim fa'r short." All right then Dim-wor,..., I prattled on, "Whats so amusing?" He tossed his tankard across the room, and flipped over his table. He began shouting things in dwarven that I could not comprehend, but I'm sure they had naught to do with my good health. He drew a sword, and advanced towards me. I turned and drew as well. One look at his face told me I'd made a critical error in engaging him. I would have to rely on diplomacy to save my hide. I stammered, "I don't suppose, it would dissuade you from tearing me limb from limb,...to know that...I was prenticed' to Dr.Broondale attorney at law for 6 months?" He sternly replied 'not a hoot' eh-hem,....well, not even the fact that I would slap an action of battery on you? He chuckled, and it sent a shiver down my yellow back,..."Battery, my arse,...you're not gonna be walkin' out of here to slap nothin' boy'o, so grab your swoard and get ta swingin' in a huarry." My hand moved down to my scabbard, and I clutched the hilt of my elemental sword, but my other hand, also at my side, felt a pair of spectacles in my pocket, which I immediately drew out, "Then, I'm afraid I'll have to throw human dignity to the four winds, and make the universal appeal for mercy." I propped the spectacles on my nose. The outbreak of laughter that ensued shook the whole tavern, and even Dimwor had to smirk a little. A bard that had been observing the scene,...indeed, as the whole tavern had been riveted to us, jumped down from the bartop where he was seated and heartily shook my hand. "Heres a third for our expedition, Dim, or I'll be hanged...haw haw" His name was Yor, a human of around my age. He was a dashing fellow with a snappy repertoire. He was the first bard I'd ever met, and I can tell you, traveling with bard, is the only way to travel! As we bounded along over the highway, and through the wood we got to know each other better and better, and became fast friends. Dimwor, much to my surprise was actually not the brawling sort, though still a dwarf and ill-tempered. He was however, a lightwalker, and a good soul. His fiercest desire, was to squelch evil wherever it reared its ugly head. "And,...", he said, "what better place to crack a few dark skulls than Malovent? eh? he he he!" Dimwor and Yor expounded upon the legends of Vlad the Impaler, and the Mansion of the Malevolent as we traveled, and of the hideous 'mutant trolls' that inhabited the dungeon floor of the house. These were to be our primary prey, for they were evil incarnate,...and their hoarded treasures were great besides! Soon, we were before her. She stood there, black, and ominous, with massive pillars towering in front, and devilish gothic trimmings everywhere, all overgrown with dank moss, ivy, and tangleweed. It all smelled of death and decay. "Dogs ears!", said Dimwor as we stood just outside the tall reeds in front of the massive mansion, Dammy if the deuce emself ain't a resident here. We all shuddered, "Come Bard!" I said trying to be upbeat, "Lets have something cheery, for battle!" We all chimed in for a rousing battle hymn, and the magic of Yor's music enveloped, and enchanted us. Dimwor smashed the front door down and a blast of foul air flew out and choked us soundly. When we caught our breath and looked up. A ghoulish fiend decked out as a man-servant fell upon us! Dimwor threw me to the front, Strike em lad, and give no quarter! he shouted,...I held the the creature at bay while Yor, and Dimwor assisted from behind. We fell the beast, and made our way inwards, towards the pantry, where Dimwor said, the trap door to the basement could be found, and therein, our devil trolls. The house was as forbidding within, as without, and every fiber of your body screams at you to run, far, and fast. The air was poisonous and stifling on the bottom floor. The basement,...when we at last arrived was barely tolerable. Dimwor was a determined and merciless sergeant at arms. We had to beg and plead with him at times to let us sleep, which he would have none of. At best he allowed us to sit and have a rest for a few hours, before we were back up again, in the damp recesses of the basement. Sometimes chilling cold to the bone, sometimes, when near the furnace, blazing heat like hell fire. We had taken about 5 trolls, and a good heaping amount of treasure before we decided to make tracks back to the river and head for home. I was then thinking of joining Herald, and mentioned to Dimwor that, if I made it home alive, and was accepted, he might read of our exploits on day. He expressed contempt an the notion, "Scribes penning tales of troll hunting? With all the other important doings in Thera? That'll be the day,...If you do so you'd have to be the most tired, bored man in all the realms...." But as you can see, the story has been told to all. Who ever knew that a simple adventure to the Mansion of the Malevolent could be so interesting and adventurous! |
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