HPN:
It’s an hard task, to transcribe and translate some old tablets and scrolls i traded with a group of adventurers. I don’t know how they got them, but how fool they have been to underestimate the value of such treasure, for a Dawi-Zharr atleast!. Adventurers are all the same, show them a little gold and they lose their mind.
As far as i have translated, it should be an old myth about the fortress city of Marr-Zagib and one of its most famous heroes, or well, heroine. Being a myth, and being old, i’m sure i will find incongruences and hyperboles, but you know, myths have to be taken for what they are!
And well, making everything more difficult, this is not even my natural language, so forgive my mistakes please…
Here you are the first roll, i already finished the second and working on the third. I still have to venture into the old runes of the fourth, the last one.
Bidakka stretched silently in the bed, without opening her eyes yet, but quickly escaping the tendrills of sleep, gaining more and more consciousness. A little moan reached her ears, the hint of a move there in the bed, as her handmaid turned in sleep under the thin and roughly unfolded sheets.
Pushing herself out of the bed Bidakka rose on her feet, taking some steps to reach the small window of the room, pushing aside the dark tent and allowing a warm, reddish glow to fill the room, along with a blow of hot air and sulfur smell. She has never get used to the breath-taking spectacle of the lava stream falling down for almost 50 meters before reaching a lower pool and flow away, and she firmly requested that room of the temple for herself, to get the better view.
Being hundreds of meters below the surface, only a complex clockwork device on the desk next to the window allowed her to know what time it was, brass cilinders and rings moving with a serie of mechanical sounds that she has learned to exclude from her mind, like the bubbling of the magma outside. She stood there, her eyes following the white-hot stream of molten stone for a time that seemed endless, unable to focus on a single thought, until something suddently requested her attention.
“Miss, it’s time already?” a gentle and still sleepy voice behind her, the Hashut Priestess barely turned her head to catch the figure of her handmaid rising up to sit at the edge of her view. “No Kashia I…it’s still too ealry, but i wasn’t able to sleep anymore. Sleep, i will wake you up when it’s time” answered Bidakka, but she had barely finished the phrase that the younger women had already left the bed and covered herself in a long and simple robe, walking to her mistress and hugging her soflty from behind, her forehead resting on Bidakka’s dark hair.
“Miss, if you are still serious about leaving the temple, i will have plenty of time to sleep then” she said “Until you come back, of course”. Bidakka sighed, turning in that embrace to face her servant, forcing herself to smile “Kashia, i have to go, my dreams…i have to find if the Lord of Darkness is really talking to me, or if i’m just getting crazy” a small pause in the voice of the Priestess “And you will be quite busy keeping all the slaves in line, once i left!” those last words seemed to steal a little smile on Kashia’s lips “Well, since we are both awake, bring me my clothes please, and then make some breakfast. I will ready my things meanwhile” she ordered, having the handmaid obey with a nod.
The priestess shifted again her weight from the tips to the heels of her boots, standing in the courtyard of the temple and sighing in impatience, the body covered in a finely made scale armor, not heavy as those of Immortal Guard, but still providing her a good protection, in case she faced any danger. She had been there waiting for almost half an hour, trying to not look too often at the one of the upper windows of the temple from where she was sure Kashia was watching her, despite she had ordered the maid to just do her usual routine and stop being worried for her leaving; when finally she saw some movement coming from the entrance of the temple.
At steady pace, two fully armored guards carrying large shields and obsidian axes lead the way ahead of the figure of an old dwarf wearing a reddish robe and intricated ceremonial pauldrons, along with an encumbering hat covered in spikes and runes, walking dragging his feet on the ground. He was followed by three priests of the temple, in similar but less imposing garments and behind them a dozen of hobgoblin slaves hurried in following the dwarves, with no apparent purpose. Midway, a couple of them parted from the group and ran to a secondary entrance to the back side of the temple, disappearing behind a tall stone arc.
The little group stopped in front of Bidakka, and she bow her head in respect, some of her coiled hair falling down her shoulders. “High Prophet Neradh-Zim, it’s a honor and an unexpect…” she started to salute the head dwarf of the temple, that quickly interrupted her “Cut this up, Bidakka!” he said, pushing aside one of the guards and walking to stood right in front of her, a little shorter than the priestess but towering over her due to the tall hat. “One of my most skilled priest leaving the temple and for what? For some crazy voices in this empty head?” he said, his index finger tapping on the forehead of her horned tiara “Believe me, my dear child, it’s not the Father of Abyss telling you to do something so silly” the tapping continued “You probably just drunk some avariated hobgoblin spirit or something like that”.
Bidakka tried to politely interrupt the Prophet, but he didn’t gave her the chance, until he stopped himself, like if he got exasperated by his own speech “Enough! We already argued too many times about this in the last weeks, i’m not going to stop you, i gave up on that!” commented Neradh, raising his hands in a sort of surrender and then dropping those down to his sides.
“I thrust you, just…be careful. Are you sure you don’t want to bring some slaves? I brought some with me, they are good!” he said, moving his hand as he was offering her the view of the hobgoblins behind him, whose faces twisted in fear, at the thought of being sent in what they probably considered a suicidal trip.
“High Prophet, i thank you, but i have to refuse, i want no one with me” she politely said, peeping at the greenskins figures that seemed to relieve hearing her words. “Well, in this case i have a gift to you” said the Prophet, casting a loud shout, probably calling someone from inside the temple and then turning again to face Bidakka, with a malicious grin on his lips. It took a couple of minutes, but finally a group of hobgoblins appeared behind the stone arc of the secondary entrance, pushing and pulling a small wooden chariot, impossible to spot what was on it.
The chariot reached Bidakka and the Prophet, who announced “I prepared you some goods for the trip and provided you some company”
“High Prophet, i said i want no one with…” Bidakka’s voice died midway in her throat as she saw the figure raising from the back of the chariot. With a metallic sound, a towering figure rose to stand, taking some steps to approach her. More than two meters tall, what was standing in front of the priestess was resembling an intricated and baroque armor, feminine in appearance, but apparently with no one inside. In place of the head, there was a mask made or brass sustained by a clockwork mechanism of some sort, not an hint of life behind the empty eyes. Two large pauldrons sporting long and twisted spikes made the figure even more imposing, creating a curious dichotomy with the legs, made out of metal rods of various size and seeming weak and unprotected. The only thing betraying the hidden nature of the “creature” was the glow of a burning core, the light filtering through the chest piece armor.
“Exactly, no one will come with you!” nodded the Prophet in excitement “She…ehm…It…is just a thing. You know, to carry around heavy stuff and so on. It’s really not a “one”!” he said. At his words,with a mechanical click, the metal mask moved as if it was looking down at the Prophet.
Bidakka’s eyes lowered on the two large axes dangling from the creature’s hips, each of them bigger than her, somewhat making Bidakka dubious about Neradh’s words, but she decided to not fight over “Well, in this case…i gladly accept your…gift” she said, making the Prophet grin with satisfaction “Now i think it’s really the time for me to leave, High Prophet” she announced. “Well, child, i suppose it really is” said the dwarf “May Hashut ward you, and may you come back soon with your questions answered” he nod.
Taking a long breath Bidakka rose her sight at the tall structure of the temple, on the top of it the burning statue of the Bull in front of a large cauldron of molten metal, her gaze then drifting to the nearby side of the large undeground cave, stopping on the dark entrance of another cave, opening in the rock around 20 meters above the floor of the main space, were the oldest lammasu of the temple lived. She wasn’t able to see anything behind the dark entrance, but suddently shivered at the unnerving feeling of eyes inspecting her.
“Thank you again, High Prophet” she said, making a deep bow and then turning to leave the courtyard of the temple. The mechanical creature picked a large bag from the chariot and then began to follow the priestess, reaching her with no effort, due to the long span of its steps.
The couple left the courtyard of the temple, leaving behind the large gate which allowed to reach that holy ziggurat, the two guarding bullcentaurs at the gate getting nervous at the sight of the mechanical creature walking with Bidakka.
Taking a route leading straigh out of the city, the two avoided the large fournaces and the lower docks, not taking long before leaving the light and sounds of the city behind, walking toward reaching the entrance of some old tunnels. “So, what’s your name?” asked Bidakka, now focusing her attention to that unusual creature walking next to her with a sequence of mechanical and metallic sounds. As only answer, the metal mask looked down at her for a moment, before lifting again, looking in front of them. “Mmmh, i suppose you are not one who talk much…” commented the priestess, picking her axe from her own side, rising the weapon as the blade got wrapped in purple flames, allowing her to see in the cave, where the light was getting lower and lower.
“You know, my grandfather always made little offers to a fire demon named Aruru-Sha, along with those to Father Hashut” Bidakka started to talk again “He said he summoned her centuries ago, while he was enchanting his first war-hammer, and that she was the most beautiful being he has even seen: made of pure flames and living out of an endless, burning fury. For this reason he didn’t bound her to the weapon, and left her free. Since then, he believed that Aruru-Sha has guarded over our family” the priestess made a small pause, raising her sight to her towering fellower “I will call you like that: Aruru” she announced. Again, the metal face moved to watch down at the priestess for a moment, before rising, without a single sound. “Well…i hope that you atleast understand what i say…” commented the woman sighing, lifting the axe in front of her to light an half crumbled stone arc and stopping on her feet.
“Here we are Aruru, the dead tunnels. What i’m looking for has to be somewhere in there”