Erallian Campaign; Session 1

‘Birds… I hear birds.’ Thoughts ricocheted in his mind and threatened to break their way free. Clearly, something was amiss. Zyrallus Alevar looked around as best as his stiffened neck would permit, saw rusted iron bars, and let out a disheartening sigh. ‘Drunk? What did I do this time?’ But it couldn’t be, simply couldn’t be. He remembered very clearly sleeping the night before and recalled just as accurately that his system was devoid of ale. A voice came, then, gruff and unpleasant.

“You look lost, son. Hahaha… Don’t you know a cage when you see one?” Zyrallus angled his head, grimaced once again at the pain, and noticed with ever growing disdain that he was not the only prisoner in this veritable hell. A heavily armored beast, for lack of any better term, was stuck almost to the point of strangulation between the iron bars of a similar cell.

“By the Raven Queen…” Words, for the first time he could recall, escaped him. The thing was enormous, would tower at least seven feet, Zyrallus wagered, if allowed to fully stretch itself out. But it wasn’t the size, or the darkened skin, or even the bellowing laughter which frightened him… It was the array of spikes protruding like an iron maiden from the thing’s shoulders.

“Don’t lose your words over me, lad. Wouldn’t waste such precious things as words on that.” He tried to move and failed. Tried to break the bars away, and was greeted with a similar result. “Look here, new friend. As far as I can say, you need help as much as I do. Can’t you do something about these damn cages?” Zyrallus pondered the current situation, almost drifted away to the sounds of the forest, and then shot his head upwards.

“Heh… that’s what I do.” He fiddled in his leather pouch, praying that whoever had imprisoned them was not intelligent enough to remove his favorite tools. ‘They didn’t take my case, my weapons or my armor… who’s to say the fools would take a set of lock picks?’ Luckily, and it was fair to say that luck was his strategy, the metal bars and gears were still in the rawhide sack. With a flick of the wrist the cage doors slammed open. The beast-like warrior seemed to smile in the waning daylight. Zyrallus hurried over and opened the other cage.

“Free. I need to stretch, elf. Why don’t you unlock the other two cells?” Zyrallus looked up at him with an expression of such incredulity it would have been funny under other circumstances. “Yes. There are more. Two females by the looks of it. Over there.” He pointed in the direction of the forest clearing and, sure enough, two identical ancient cages were propped up from branches. Zyrallus made his way over, worked his magic, and was surprised, once again, to find the two women staring at him.

“A rogue, I wager? Wonderful.” The voice came from the smaller of the two. She was cloaked and facing away, seeming to stare into the dipping sun between the gnarled trees. “Hurry up, fool. Get Lunara free.” As if by royal command, Zyrallus found himself obeying the orders without so much as a second thought. Lunara, he found… was rather frightening. For one, she challenged the height of the now stretching beast. For another, she sprouted what appeared to be scalded wings.

“Thank you, kind Dothrama. You’re kind… To be truthful, I thought they were long lost. But let us not waste this precious time. We must proceed.” Zyrallus felt as if things were progressing too quickly, but he understood that urgency was necessary under the circumstances. For all they knew, their captors could return to finish whatever malicious deeds they had originally intended.

Not two seconds later, the Dothraman Elf heard breaking twigs in the underbrush. The little cloaked one was chattering away, and he moved to her with such speed that she began to draw at her blade. “Do not speak. To the east, under the oak.” She nodded, looked, and smiled. Zyrallus crept silently towards the lumbering giant and whispered to him as best he could.

“Your name, sir?” Zyrallus questioned. The brown tinted, muscular behemoth looked down before responding.

“Azreck, friend. What is all the-,”

“Shh…” The rogue motioned to the bushes, and all was immediately understood. They gathered together, waiting for the butcher’s bill. Ogres? Orcs? As if by Divine providence, the answer hastily presented itself.

“By the Gods… what a disappointment.”

Kobolds. And a great deal of them. Zyrallus counted in the shade of one of the cages. There appeared to be four warriors and at least eight underlings. They brandished their shoddy weapons, banged the misshapen tools against equally useless shields, and snarled. Suddenly, a bolt of thunderous energy exploded from the winged woman’s hand, and two of the smaller creatures fell to the grass in burning clumps. Everyone charged.

The battle was short lived, at best, but stiffness and exhaustion from the confinement evened the odds. The cloaked woman resonated with inspiring song, uplifted the three others to charge onward. An arrow sprung forth from the forest and cut short the melodious tune. She was at best harmed, at worst fatally wounded, and Zyrallus could think of nothing to remedy the situation.

Thankfully, it was not his problem to solve. Azreck raised a misshapen instrument and whispered for aid before sprinting to the still falling female. He pressed two, hardened hands against her head, bowed his own, and broke the arrow at the middle. The female rose as if unharmed, and the remaining kobolds fled into the forest, clearly beaten.

“You… You’re a paladin!? You?” Azreck attempted to remain stoic, but a small smirk escaped none the less. “And you? Done being so high and mighty now?” Zyrallus turned to the hooded one, but her figure was already disappearing into the distance. She turned back and shouted, “Martanya is close. We best head out.” She wanted to continue forth, to lead the pack, but she comprehended her current place. As they all caught up, she spoke again. “Listen. I don’t want to be here, you all don’t want to be here. So let’s get out of these woods, head back to Martanya, and figure everything out there. I’m Arlina.” Zyrallus and Azreck introduced themselves by name, and she nodded, clearly eager. “Now let’s go.

“The gods know I have kobolds to kill.”