Chapter Three

We decided to finally follow up on the situation with the underdark cult. We found the secret entrance to the underdark, somewhere north of Guardia. On the way to the cave we met an interesting little halfling named Osborne Greenbottle, a curious little character who would accompany us until the end of our journey. At the moment, the halfling was hunting for adventure, and was very grateful to accompany us. We headed on, discovering that the way to the cave was covered with hills and boulders. Deciding to be funny, Ingrid began rolling down the hills, bumping his head, nearly knocking himself out several times, and generally looking like an idiot. The cave was an odd one. Here, magic did not function. Our wizards were severely weakened, reduced to the level of out-of-shape nerds by this condition. The rest of us did all right, navigating deep lakes, steep cliffs and other challenges with ease. (All except Ingrid, of course, who slid, fell and stumbled his way through). At the end we found a strange doorway that led us to an even stranger place. This whole cavern had only been a ruse. There was no underdark cult. The legendary mage Kazin greeted us; now ascended as the god of time! The prayers of my old friend Cebo had allowed him to speak with us, and he gave us a good deal of knowledge. We learned the origins of this darkness dragon; a former god exiled from the divine plane, a monster who ravaged this world every thousand years. In ages past it had been sealed away by a team of heroes: Merlin, Kazin, Beshba, Pendril, Shadow and Jacob Tabber himself. Yet they had failed to fully defeat this entity, for it was said that only a god could kill the Darkness Dragon. Supposedly, the sword was key to defeating it; the sword of good and evil, which Tabber had stolen from Gaspar’s defeated corpse. Now the villain had it, and he had control over the Darkness Dragon, his living god. We had to stop him. Kazin had one hint for us: to find the secret library of old Guardian, ancient city that had been the foundation of modern-day Guardia, now deep beneath the ocean. A tunnel in the underdark could take us there, located not far from the legendary Kzard.

I knew this entrance from some time ago, when I had used it to gain an audience with a valuable Dark Elf contact. One of their cities lay far below the ground here, a large and powerful settlement of power-hungry drow. I led my companions through the deep tunnels and into the underdark, until we got to the city itself. Beyond it, so said Kazin, was the passage to the bottom of the ocean and Guardian. The drow city was under a revolution, so we discovered when member of a rebel faction attacked us outside of the gates. We quickly defeated the fools, though we managed to capture one and discover from her that a tyrannical male monarch was the reason for the female-led rebellion. We eventually let our rebel friend go, despite Gaspar’s desire to drink her blood. We soon found the entrance to the deeper tunnels beyond the drow city. There was the depths of the true Underdark, caverns so vast and limitless to be as subterranean plains. Filled with forests of fungi, teeming with strange creatures and odd sights, it was certainly an interesting visit. Through investigation we found that one of these passages led to a long, ice-filled tunnel, eventually winding down to a slick slide. In his madness, Ingar decided to slide down it, nearly drowning himself again in the river at the bottom. We navigated the river without too much hassle; Gaspar, unable to cross running water, found a new home inside of my Portable Hole. After this river we found ourselves in a great cavern of ice, hundreds of people forever frozen in the walls, eternally sleeping the sleep of death. Magic was completely negated here, and soon we came to a place where the cavern sloped downward in another icy slide, this one over three miles long! A few of us decided to make the trip down; myself, Gaspar, and Mu. (I’m a damn good climber, Gaspar was able to go all batty and fly down, and Mu rode on his back.) Of course, Ingar HAD to go down as well, mostly to prove his manhood to us. Sure, it was over a three mile climb, down an icy slope, with SPIKES at the bottom, and sure, Ingar had not the slightest skill at climbing. Yet Ingar began his climb not long after the rest of us did. I was about halfway down when I heard a scream coming from above, and saw a small figure plummeting down at a rapid speed, ice flying all around him while he tried desperately to dig his axe into the snow. Nobody was able to catch him, and so Ingar slid down, his speed increasing with each second, until he slammed chest-first into the wall of spikes at the bottom! Due to some strange curse of the gods, he did not die.

Well, in addition to the spikes, the room at the bottom had some other features. An iridescent globe of pure cold hung suspended in the middle of the room, a throne of ice behind it, the entrance to an ancient and hallowed temple beyond that. Strange statues stood at either end, clearly guardians of this place. Gaspar claimed to us that he saw a vision here, a vision of a woman, trapped, scared and alone. We could hear a mournful cry somewhere at the edge of our hearing. Up above we could see the ocean, held back by only a thin layer of ice. We were lucky Ingar’s idiotic fall hadn’t broken it already. Carefully we searched this temple, finding in the back an old journal, plus a tiny replica of a sword. We soon left this chamber, carrying out Ingar’s limp body. Soon after we left the anti-magic zone, we got Ingar healed up, then headed back into the main tunnels. There, our group was confronted by the drow. My companions spoke with them while I remained invisible in the background. An army of the elves led them to the throne of the Drow King, an arrogant, foolish and rude man who dominated his people with an iron fist. Perhaps he would have been friendlier, but Ingar insulted him from the start with his anti-diplomatic tactics. He warned the party against exploring these territories, threatening to kill us should we dwell in their lands any longer. His threats were empty air. We simply ignored them, and never did those folks do anything to stop us. Next, we headed for another cavern near the city-a winding tunnel filled with noxious gasses, ending in a great sunken mausoleum filled with empty caskets. A stairway led up into a sealed temple, and nearby, we could hear scratching sounds coming from beyond another sealed-off room. At this time, the elder Mu told us a tale; a tale of how he and his companions of old had once been here. The scratching was from one of his former friends, a traitor who attacked his party, lighting the gas of the area afire and slaying many friends. In retaliation, they had sealed him alive in one of the rooms here, and it was his unquiet spirit that scratched endlessly at the wall, hoping in vain to escape its macabre fate. Above, said Mu, was an old and holy temple, certainly worth investigating. We used powerful magics to enter it; and I began exploring a side-room, while Gaspar and Mu tried moving a large altar that blocked the exit, hoping to let the others in. Ingar sat around bored, as he couldn’t figure out how to enter the room I was exploring (I had used magic to phase through the door), and felt too lazy to bash it down. He said “I’m useless. You guys never let me do anything.” Of course, when Gaspar asked him to help move the heavy altar, he answered with a "Why do I have to do everything!" and sat in the corner, pouting. Everyone eventually got into the temple, and now we had to all get inside of the library I had found on the opposite end of a completely ruined doorway, which had been made unopenable by the shifting earth. Ingar refused to bash open the door, not wanting to help at all. He started bitching, moaning and being a complete monkey-master. While He was bitching, I was able to describe the room to Latheric, who teleported the rest of the party through. Ingar was so busy being a queen that he didn’t notice that the others had gone in without him. After an hour of complaining, he got the door down! There, we found a library, filled with old holy texts, some of which radiated magic. Wanting to know more about the gods and their religions, I started reading an interesting tome that I had found. The others began searching through some of the other books. Ingar began smashing furniture with his axe, making the most annoying sound ever. I told him to stop, but he refused. After he smashed up a bed, I managed to save a poor little cockroach (Cocky the Cockroach, my loyal companion!) from Ingar’s wrath. I saved him, and he remains with me to this day. Ingar then began loudly sharpening his axe, grinding it on the ground, and whining whenever we told him to stop. He refused to be useful, refused to be cordial, refused to help. He would only[censored], then act annoying. I told him to please stop, that I didn’t want to do what I was about to do. I even counted to five, giving him five chances to stop his horrid behavior. All of you know me. All of you know that Huron Blackheart is a nice guy. I give everyone a chance. I even give some people more than one chance. But mess with me and you are done. Lose my respect and you lose your life. I don’t take crap from assclowns like The Darkness Dragon, and I don’t take it from arrogant dicks like Ingar Torroun either. Thus, he felt the wrath of my Slave Ring. (His precious Ring of Stabilization). Ingar collapsed to the ground in agony, and at that moment I considered simply killing him, putting the stupid bastard out of his misery. Still, he was no enemy. We took his unconscious body with us and went back to Castle Lockinton.

When Ingrid woke up, a long talk ensued. At first it was civil, then not so. The dwarf had a great hatred for Gaspar, partially justified due to the draining of blood, the slavery, etc. He seemed to be angry at everything and everyone. He screamed about vengeance, hatred, etc. At one point, he THOUGHT I was insulting his mother. (When in reality I was suggesting that one of the cows Gaspar was feeding from was actually Ingar’s lover). He pulled out his axe and swung it at me! Before anything could happen, Latheric used a spell to slam Ingar against the wall and knock him out. Janko, noble man that he is, attempted to heal Ingar, but as he did so, the dwarf looked up and knocked Janko right in the head. After this we called the guards and dragged his candy ass to prison. For the night we rested…or rather, most of us rested.

Gaspar snuck into the prisons to ‘visit’ Ingar. He took with him a dagger. I later heard the tale of what horrors Gaspar committed that night. He threatened and then tortured the dwarf, enraged at his rude behavior and hostile comments. Gaspar went mad, anally assaulting the dwarf with the dagger, cutting into his back, horribly torturing Ingar with his mad vampiric perversions. I later found Ingar, bloody, delirious and barely alive. I took him out of there, intent on getting the whole story out of him. After I healed the dwarf, he told me everything, or at least his versions of it. Ingar seemed intent on getting revenge on Gaspar. I doubted that my friend would mercenarily be as evil as he sounded, and I tried to calm Ingar down a bit. Still, he said that all he cared about was revenge; revenge on Asmodeus, revenge on Gaspar. He wanted to kill him, or inflict equally horrible tortures on his tormentor. With every second, Ingar seemed more and more pathetic, more of a wretch and a loser, a broken man. I refused to help him slaughter Gaspar, though I wanted to at least speak with the vampire lord. Ingar would have none of it. He began insulting me. He even started insulting MY mother (despite his previous behavior when he thought his mother insulted). He began to grow more and more hostile, despite the fact that I had just saved him. I would have helped Ingar, really. I wanted to side with him, perhaps even confront Gaspar. But he was just too big of an asshole for that. I couldn’t put up with any more of his insults, his arrogance, his dark ranting of murder and vengeance. Thus, I put him out of his misery. Again, I slew a man that should have been a friend. Ingrid was dead, and he would never return again.