40’ away far wall – stone door;
The Constant Pounding
Terrifying roar – tasmanian devil like creature – not match the pound
Charade – kitten
Magic mouth “Fools, face the brunt of my wrath” after 3 rounds
The door opens silently after all this time. Dust rolls off of it as you pull it open. Light flares from an orb set into the ceiling. Inside, a circular room filled with bookcases and books surrounds a massive figure chained to a chair. Behind the chair are four podiums much like the ones you encountered previously – all of these have small, slim tomes on them. The Ogre, obviously long in stasis, wakes up. He raises his chained arms above his head in a challenge, and his face distorts as his maw opens wide… and he issues a mighty yawn. Blinking his eyes, he looks around, and seeing you he holds up one hand which is stopped by a chain, and raises one finger. He fumbles at his chest with a leather pouch, and out comes a large pair of glasses. He blows off the dust and wipes them with a soft rag from his hip and puts them on. The smell of well oiled leather wafts your way and you can see several other rags at his hip – obviously used to care for the leather covers and bindings of books. He has a massive iron collar and bracers, and wound through it from one side of the chair to the other is a chain of the same metal – apparently chaining him to the floor on both sides of the seat. The wood groans as he slides off the chair and more dust falls off. He can barely stand still chained, and he looks comical blowing the dust as it swirls around his head and snorts a laugh or two. Still grinning, he looks at you and says, “Gods and angels! It’s truly been ages by the look of things. What year is it?”
Interlude…
Zounds! Surely you are kidding!? No, hmmmm. Well, this IS awkward. I’m assuming that my kind is stilllll… well, not popular in this new age? No? Not surprising. I mean, it’s not really my kind, and I suppose, as you can tell by now, that I am hardly a common example of the ogre species. Well, no bother, let’s get down to business, as they say. What is the fate of Urvor?
Interlude…
Who is Urvor? Damnable is time that wipes all memories. Well, he made this… place. I was his friend. This place, or the right to make it, was given to him by… well, by a woman, the wife of the man who owned this land. Star-crossed love from his youth from what I gather. I forget his name, but hers was Esmerline. At least, that’s what Urvor called her. I’m not even sure that her husband knew of this place. Urvor and I traveled from here by means other than… well, physical. Is magic still around?
Interlude…
Hm. Where are my manners!? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Darren, friend to Urvor, a survivor of the Darklands, a studied man and gentle being. Tell me gentle souls, how have you come here and what can I do for you?
Well, it’s a long, sordid tale. I’ll skip most of the gruesome parts – I grew up in the Dark Lands, you can just imagine. I was trained as a tin chain brute in the pits of Red River Dark (it’s probably not even there any more). I worked for years carrying ore and working the crucibles. When I did not die as expected after 10 years, I was given to the order of the Shattering Fists of Sun Stealer. I was trained and made several raids into the human lands. I was cornered, captured, and burned. Yet, I would not die. Urvor believed it had something to do with the pits. I was given an elixir and I dreamed I had another upbringing. I awoke as you see me now. I was his study partner and guardian. We traveled to the southern wastes and dark lands, exploring ruins. He said he had to go away for a while, and asked if I would like to wait for him. I said yes and then all after that is a fog… until you. And here we are.
Well, the way I see things, it’s your responsibility to get me out of here. You have awakened me, so unless you can get me out of here without being killed, you need to provide for me until you can. You must either swear to this – all of you – or we will have a problem. Forgiveness is not my strong suit.
The library is what it is. Around us you see a vast accumulation of fables, myths, and stories. Urvor was always one for stories. Even children’s stories. I believe he was actually looking for something, something that had hints in tales and legends. What you see here is all mundane, nothing or very little of magical nature as I understand it.
He wears the ring Urvor’s Scholarly Vigil… crafted by Urvor the Unseen.