Durrga-S'ynn

There are many legends from the ancient times, and many far better known than that of Durrga-S'ynn, but none would tell a more frightening tale. The truth of the matter is the story of Durrga-S'ynn is so shameful to the lower races and so terrifying in it's prophetic ending that few wish to think upon it, much less tell it at the fireside. Ahhh the look in your eyes asks why I tell you now? Well child I will answer your question with a question, what has as old as myself with who has prepared himself for his death to fear from legends? Soon I will go off to the other side, and my only memory will be in the hearts and minds of those like you. Tales are important child, especially those like this one. We must never forget the folly of our ancestors, lest we doom ourselves to relive them through the generations. Perhaps the stories I have told you in your growing years will inspire you to take up the path of the Bard. Tis a grand life I tell you, and I have no regrets.

Ahem but you did not come here to listen to tales of this old man's life did you? I must keep my own adventures for another day. For it is important you learn the tale of Durrga-S'ynn and learn it well. It was one of this world's darkest hours and we have no one to blame but ourselves.

I shall begin with the setting, it is important to understand what the world was like in those days, before the rise of chaos and the cataclysm of the Banestorms. It was a golden age, ruled by noble kings and grand wizards. It was a time of great empires and great discovery. The whole world was alive with the excitement of its youth. Great beasts filled the skies, unicorns ran through the forests, and dragons visited the mortal races as friends. Yes dragons, such as Durrga-S'ynn.

No one knows Durrga-S'ynn's real name, he hid it from the world and destroyed all who spoke it, it is said that as the cataclysm struck, all pages with his name written burst to flames and were consumed by his fury. But again I get ahead of myself. For this tale Durrga-S'ynn is the only name that matters.

Although the world was young and thriving with life then, it still shared many of the same problems of today. Kingdoms still made war upon one another, Orcs battled Humans, Dwarves quarreled with Elves, and the races warred within themselves over thrones, treasures and insults real or imagined. It is the way of things, I suspect it will always be so. There was however a growing alliance among the forces of chaos in the world. The Gods of Order had grown too powerful and sought to smite out all chaos in their arrogance. But as it always is, the more they fought them the more powerful they grew.

Finally the Goblin races poured out of the north lands the humans had driven them too. In numbers unimaginable, aided by strange beasts and magics no one had ever seen before. Entire Kingdoms were overwhelmed in a matter of days. The coming months only saw it get worse, the Horde blazed across the north kingdoms, even the fierce tribes of Northmen fell before the massive horde. The remaining kingdoms gathered themselves into great keeps. No one had the courage to face the horde.

The only thing separating the greatest of the high Elven kingdoms, Shadrimyrr, from the horde was the Iron Gate Mountains. Home of the great Zhmei, that's the old-worlder word for dragon write it down and let's get on with the tale, Durrga-S'ynn. No others lived in the mountains, so great was the respect for Durrga-S'ynn. It is said that in centuries past Durrga had routed the Drow who lived in them, removing the entire dark kingdom with spell and claw.

When the Horde arrived on the other side of the pass. The entire Shadrimyrr forest cowered. The king was at his wit's end, he had no warriors beyond the sylvan hunters in his lands. They had never needed any. No one would threaten the peaceful and benevolent Shadrimyrr elves. He sent envoys to his allies, but none would come, save King Osric.

The brave warrior king had managed to battle back the barbarians bordering his lands, and eventually struck an alliance with them. Flushed from this victory he was spoiling for a fight with the Horde. However his own lands were so far south, past the mountains on Shadrimyrr's southern border and the Dwarvish kingdom of Khazack.

Osric's reason for offering aid was twofold. First he wished battle on the horde, a warrior who had gained his throne through conquest, he knew his army would turn unless he fed it more wars. The horde offered an opponent that would keep his men's battlelust sated for years. Second and perhaps even more appealing was the princess. High Elder Lictalynn ruler of the Shadrimyrr elves, had a young daughter. Alarionne, was considered to be the most beautiful of all the high Elven maidens. She was also his only daughter, young and unwed. The perfect thing to expand Osric's kingdom into that which no human ruler had done before. The sacred forest of Shadrimyrr.

Osric's proposal arrived at the High Elder's tower on the back of a black charger. All the High Elder's other envoys had not returned, this was his last hope. The High Elder was tormented with this decision, to give his only daughter as a ransom? How? But then what if he does not? What of his people? What of his daughter without this Osric's aid? Is it better to see her married to a king? Or dead, perhaps worse at the hands of the Horde? All night he wrestled with this decision, the logic of leadership battling with the love of a father.

Finally in the early morning hours the very source of his torment came to him. Alarionne approached quietly, laying her gentle hands upon her father. Soothing him with her comforting words. Then telling him of the one option he had not been offered, Durrga-S'ynn.

You see what the elder did not know was that the great beast was not sleeping. He had awoken some decades ago. When a young Elven girl had stumbled into his lair. The girl was Alarionne, she had snuck away from her escort, and gotten lost in the mountains. She was trying to find shelter from the elements and the mountain trolls who had picked up her trail when she entered the cavern. She was chased deeper and deeper by the trolls as the night went on, finally stumbling into Durrga-S'ynn's lair, and onto the sleeping dragon. At first he did not wake, then as the trolls entered behind her one eye slit ever so slightly. It was all that was required to send the trolls screaming from the cavern.

He was everything the legends said, a great serpent, a creature of magic and power. A thing that creates fear in the belly of even the most steadfast opponent. The high elder listened as she spoke on and on about the dragon. In his age he could see her infatuation with the beast, her youth had caused this, but it had not totally blinded her. Durrga-S'ynn was indeed powerful, but could it be convinced to aid them? Alarionne insisted he would, and after careful consideration he decided to give her a chance. It was her life he was asked to bargain with at least it could be her plan that they gambled on. He agreed to let her try to convince Durrga-S'ynn.

Much to everyone's surprise the dawn found the great wyrm sunning itself in the plaza outside the High Elder's tower. Contact him she had, but Lictalynn had never thought she could do so, so easily or that the Wyrm would respond so quickly. A strange feeling crept over the Elder, as if he suddenly realized that he did not know his daughter. It was a sobering feeling, one that all parents endure when they realize their babies are babies no longer.

The wyrm greeted the elder with respect and the two spoke at length. The beast was obviously fond of Alarionne, and she absolutely beamed at it's presence. It already knew of the elder's troubles. He also knew what the elder wished to ask, when the elder tried to explain that he could offer little in return for Durrga's great risk the wyrm seemed to smile. He nodded to the elder and shook his great head. "I have all the wealth I could want for Elder. I consider this something far more valuable. A favor, from one friend to another. I'm sure you can afford a favor?" Those words haunted the elder after the creature left, as did the way his daughter smiled at them both. The elder knew something was amiss. His daughter wept as the wyrm took wing and went off to do battle with an insurmountable foe. His mind began to turn on this.

The elves wondered what the dragon would do? He was indeed a being on immense power, but the Hordes numbers were beyond measure, uncountable. He was still only one, one against the masses. Their fate rested upon it's massive shoulders. Would the Horde break or would Durrga-S'ynn?

One final envoy was sent from the Elder's tower, late that night when all were huddled in their homes praying to the gods. None prayed more fervently than Alarionne, she kept a candlelight vigil by the northern window of the tower. Watching the skies for any sign of Durrga-S'ynn.

What the people did not know, was that Durrga was not freshly awoken from his sleep, nor was he going into this battle blind. You see the great wyrm had indeed been awoken by Alarionne's intrusion into his lair, but he had not let it go unnoticed. He had come to in a state of aggravation and nearly killed Alarionne before he paused to at her beauty. Such it was that it crossed the boundaries of race and species, to touch something within the beast. He had been the one to return her to the forest, and he had been the one with whom she started to sneak away to meet. To say she was enthralled by his majestic power one must also say he was enchanted by her innocence and youth. Red Dragon's were known to have a peculiar taste for young maiden's, but that usually ran in culinary appetite only. Over the next few years, the two formed a strange sort of love affair, and he had pondered many a moon over how he could win her from her people. The arrival of the Horde was not what he had hoped for, but it was the only chance he would get.

So the great red had spent months scrying and divining, planning, spying, watching, and waiting. Finally as time grew short he set upon a plan, though the odds of success against such a force were slim. He had little choice lest he allow his precious Alarionne to slip away, or far worse for her to be taken by another. So the plan was set in motion, and his presence was revealed to the elves. The High Elder was no fool, that was to be sure, Durrga gauged his play carefully. He was well aware of the distrust he would receive, and even more so of how impossible his goal would be unless he worked a miracle. But such was his love for the young Alarionne that he was willing to set forth on this quest. Her own faith in him strengthening his resolve that he would succeed.

So as the Horde set out through the pass they were suddenly beset by a great death riding in red wings. He summoned storms and lightning, caused avalanches that crushed whole legions, sent the mountain trolls screaming out of their caves in fear, carried off commanders and their steeds from the middle of formations and reeked all manner of chaos upon the approaching army. The commanders struggled to maintain morale in what seemed to be the onslaught of all hell sent down upon them. Finally they sighted the great wyrm perched on his mountain top, he spread his wings and let out a roar that was heard all the way in the High Elder's tower. Sending a full 3rd of their number into gibbering fits. The Horde was about to break. So terrible was the havoc he had set upon them.

Then as the first glimmer of hope for his victory rose in his chest. The war horns sounded. Osric's forces had entered the fray, arriving behind the maddened horde and forcing any hopes of retreat from the minds of the goblin masses. Suddenly the tide had turned, with no hope of escape the Horde turned into maddened animals. Nothing could break them now, they would fight on forever.

Durrga raged at this human's foolish attempts at heroism. This one thought himself worthy of Alarionne's hand? He was a child playing at leadership, a fool to be sure. The battle would be near impossible to win now. The Horde's weakness was it's spirit not it's body. Fighting them head on was hopeless. Unless, unless he could lure them inside the mountains. Yes in the caverns their numbers would be nullified, only a few could fight at a time in it's narrow passages, they would be cornered. His own powers would be severely limited, but he was used to the caverns, he knew them. He thought only an instant longer, Alarionne was worth the risk. He would not see her given to one so eager to throw away his life, he would no doubt value her's even less.

So the great red soared down the mountain once again, landing next to the foolhardy king to tell him of his plan. After a brief argument Osric was convinced to agree to help drive them into the caverns. Only the sight of his brother's body being drug from the front lines was able to convince him his army had no hope against the Horde's fury. With that the uneasy alliance was struck, and Durrga set out to lure the horde into the cavern.

After nearly an hour of bloody fighting the final piece was in place. Though outnumbered the humans had put up a brave fight, managing to hold the horde against the base of Durrga's great mountain as he repeatedly fell upon them with his fiery breath. But this would not be enough, the humans would soon break, and the Horde would roll over them into the enchanted wood and the nie defenseless elves. Now was the time, when the Horde was once again beginning to doubt.

Suddenly Durrga took a bolt from a cataphract. The huge treelike arrow lodging behind his left wing. He roared, then fell from the sky. Crashing into the rocks near a large cavern opening. The Horde let out a roar and broke off to finish him. He weakly crawled for the cavern entrance, as more and more broke to chase down the great beast. Finally he drug himself into the shadows, as nearly half the Horde gave chase, but when they entered the darkness, they found nothing.

Outside the distraction allowed Osric to execute his part in the plan. His reserves and wounded, or those who had been pretending to be wounded. Surged up from behind the first ranks, cutting the Horde's celebrations short. Suddenly they were set upon by a force nearly a match for their own, and with their Generals all charging after the dragon, they broke like dogs on the line. Within moments the entire Horde was swarming into the caverns or dead on the field.

Meanwhile the generals had realized their folly. The wounded beast was not nearly so wounded as they believed. The screams of those who had gone before them answered for the danger that lie ahead. Then as the rest of their troops surged in behind them maniacal laughter filled the caverns. The laughter of a predator in the darkness. A sound that was even more haunting than that of the cavern's mouth collapsing on the troops behind them.

With no choice but to plunge forward into the mountain's depths, in hopes of finding the beast and killing it before it could kill them. The horde pressed onward. The screams of their men echoing in some cavern every few moments, as one or two more were drug off into the darkness. Prepared, with torches, ropes and other items necessary for underground combat, they might have faired quite differently. But the horde was not prepared, and their wagons had been left outside in the rush to escape the humans, never the less they trudged onward before their Captain's whips. The only break in silence the screams of their fellows, as the trek drove deeper into the mountain, stretching from hours into days. Many times they thought they had the beast, only to discover yet another trick or ambush. An entire legion charged down a cavern after it once only to discover that it opened into an abyss, and that he most certainly maintained the use of his wings. Hundreds of screams died out in it's bottomless depths.

More days passed, Durrga and the Horde's endurance both tested to their limits. As near as he could tell he faced only a few hundred more troops. Normally this would be enough to shake even a beast of Durrga's power, but with the blood of thousands already staining his mountain it seemed nearly easy. He had lost them near the west ridge hours ago, and set wards to mark their approach should they once again pick up his trail, then settled into his lair for some direly needed rest. Slipping off into a light sleep for a few hours would be enough to let him regain his senses.

But as I told you before, this is a story of man's foolishness, and the price we pay for it. Left alone Durrga would most likely have finished the entirety of the Horde and then slept away the rest of the winter. But Osric wasn't willing to take that chance. He and his men had been searching the mountain side for an entrance for some days now. Trying to find one Durrga hadn't collapsed during the battle. At least, as they neared the peak he found it. Only Osric, and a few of his bravest were able to make the climb, they entered the cavern just before nightfall and found themselves very near Durrga's Lair. They crept in quietly, with no wards to warn him they found the exhausted beast sleeping soundly on his bed of gold. At first they thought to wake him and see about the status of the horde. Then Osric spied the gown.

There next to Durrga's sleeping form was a wedding gown of the finest quality. Inlaid with gold and silver thread, and a silken veil that could have been made of pure sunlight. It was fitted for a small maiden, one whose shape was most elegant indeed. It stood next to a small vanity, with golden combs, and a great array of fine jewelry. The vanity was next to a magnificently decorated canopy bed. The men stood frozen at the arrangement, so out of place did it seem for a dragon's lair. Then as Osric examined it, finding the combs lined with long golden hued hairs, and the bed turned down as if someone had been sleeping there recently he grew red in the face. The Elder had warned him something was between Alarionne and the dragon, but this was unthinkable. He was a beast not a man, what could he want with the girl? The answer to this infuriated him even further, and he suddenly seethed with rage. He screamed out a curse and leapt upon his sleeping ally with his sword.

Durrga snapped awake and tossed the king off just as the magical blade bit deep into his neck. He yelped as he lodged their and reared back. But as with all good men the few dozen who had joined Osric in the lair followed their leader's example, and assaulted the dragon.

Perhaps if Durrga, had not been surprised. Perhaps if he had not been so weary. Perhaps if the men who attacked had been the Orcs of the Horde instead of the finest of Osric's warriors. Perhaps if the king had not struck such a foul blow on a helpless opponent. Things would have been different. And Durrga would have lived? No one will ever know. What is known is that a mighty battle took place in the lair. With the warriors paying dearly for their victory with the lives of two 3rd their number. What is speculated is that Osric himself hid as they died, for it is said Durrga's eyes never left him even in it's dying breath.

And so the great wyrm's life ended. What became of the few hundred Orcs still lost in his mountain is unknown, some say they joined Osric's army, others say they died in the darkness. No one knows for sure, there are more tales about both theories. But tonight we finish this one.

Osric rode out of the mountains in front of the remaining 3rd of his army, with banners of triumph and tales of glory on his lips. He met with the elder and after a few days it was announced that Osric and Alarionne would be wed. You see the Elder's final envoy had gone to Osric. As much as he loved his daughter, he was still a leader, and a leader must do what is best for his people. When given the choice between one defender with a price, and another with the same price? He had chosen both, his daughter was taken either way, he was merely doing what was best for his people.

The wedding was scheduled immediately, and with the news of Durrga's death at the hands of the Horde, what you expected Osric to tell the truth about his treachery? Oh no child you forget he's the hero in this story, now as I was saying. With the news of Durrga's death, Alarionne slipped into a deep depression, she scarcely noticed the wedding arrangements, much less protested them. And so it came to pass, that in the spring of the year of the yellow fisher, King Osric of Rogard, and Princess Alarionne of Shadrimyrr were wed. Scarcely a month went past when the announcement of the first heir's impending birth was sent forth on riders in all directions. It was a time of great joy for both kingdoms.

But not all celebrated. Deep in the caverns of Durrga's mountain something stirred out of the darkness. Slowly the Drow appeared once more, rising deep from the earth with a plan to repay their old foe and take revenge on the sun-dwellers once more. And so they went up through the mountain, into Durrga's looted lair. Their priests gathering together in Lolth's company as the great Sorceress Nephri D'rutzz prepared her dark magics. An eerie chant echoed throughout the mountain as the prayers began, it seemed to cause the very earth to reel back in terror of their intentions. None in all the kingdoms of the old world slept that night. The air just wasn't right.

In that dark cavern, upon that dark night they worked a foul miracle. Air once again filled Durrga's lungs, and his blood slowly began to pump again. The great wyrm woke to find himself chained with enchanted steel, and held by powerful wards. Then Nephri approached him, and spun her tale, not all of it was lies mind you, she managed to slip in the truth about the wedding and the baby, just seemed to leave out the part about it all being Osric's idea. The wyrm raged against his chains and nearly gave the priests who had brought him back a heart attack. About that time ol'Nephri threw her offer on the table. She'd give him the power to take his vengeance, so long as he promised to destroy Shadrimyrr as well. The maddened Durrga agreed, he would have agreed to anything to be free of the chains of death long enough to seek out Osric and revisit the betrayal upon Alarionne, that he imagined she had visited upon him.

And so it was, before Durrga realized what he had done he had drunk the potion that would seal all our fates. You see Nephri never mentioned that they had already restored his life or that the potion she held would destroy that very same life. She was a Drow you see and you can't ever trust a Drow. So Durrga drank and Durrga died one last time. But not a normal death mind you, this was undeath. For Nephri's potion turned him into a Dracolich, the foulest most fearsome creature to ever be dreamed up by any black souled wizard in any time.

I could go on and on about what horrors the reborn and far more terrible Durrga-S'ynn, and that was the only name anyone used for him now mind you, brought down upon the two kingdoms who had betrayed him. But it isn't really important, it's enough to say that within a months time the Horde had indeed marched through Shadrimyrr and committed all the sins they had feared from them before. Cept this time it was worse, on the count of the Horde being undead and commanded by Durrga-S'ynn himself. They say he kept the High Elder alive, and carried him around on a scepter so he could watch as his forest was raised to the ground and his people slaughtered and enslaved.

They say that the elder was the one who recorded all this in the end, since Durrga murdered every last one of the elves before moving on to Rogard. Though the warriors of Rogard may have stood up to the horde once, they fell back like children before Durrga's Horde. Dead Orcs is more frightening than live once they say, I guess the Army of Rogard agreed. Now as the Horde was busy burning killing and raping. Durrga was putting on a little family reunion. See Alarionne had just given birth to Osric's little boy and wasn't even out of the midwife's care when Durrga smashed down the gates. No one's really sure what happened to Osric, but he was no where to be found when Durrga bellowed his name, he's the hero child, try and remember that. Alarionne heard it though, and when she saw what he had become she screamed. She also screamed as she realized what she had done. None of that screaming seemed to matter to Durrga though, he didn't even speak to her. Instead he ate her child, right there in front of her. Then left her in tears as the castle burned.

And so it was that the lands of Rogard and Shadrimyrr came to be haunted wastes. Today we call them the plains of death, and no one goes there, but you don't need me to tell you that. I suppose the forest may have grown back by now, but I'm not going to go see. That's a job for youngsters like yourself.