The Saga of Kazavon

One-Life, the Shoanti Sun-Shaman, marched in silence with the party as they made their way away from Citadel Vraid. The party stayed well away from the village of Colmar, remembering their anti-Shoanti bias. Several of them tried to make small talk with the Shoanti, but their efforts earned nothing, not even a grunt.

Once they were well away from the Citadel, Nat called a halt. “We should probably just Teleport back to the Dead Warrens from here. One-Life, Thousand Bones told us that you may be the only person who can answer some very important questions we have. We’d like you to come back to Korvosa with us, where Thousand Bones is waiting, so you can tell us what you can.”

One-Life

One-Life spoke for the first time since leaving the prison. “No! I will not return to Korvosa! That place is …” His face was flushed with anger, but he stopped himself, and seemed to make a conscious effort to calm himself. When he resumed, his voice was steady, his demeanor solemn.

“You have rescued me from certain death, although the same cannot be said for my brothers and sisters who are still held by the Hellknights. I understand that there was nothing you could do for them, and I am grateful for your help. Now I am free again to lead the Sklar-Quah in battle against the white invaders. I know you did not help me out of charity or love for my people, but you have mentioned Thousand Bones. The respect I hold for him, and the debt I owe to you, compel me to do what I can to repay you. Ask me your questions now.”

The party exchanged looks, then Jax took the lead. “We understand that the Sklar-Quah once guarded a secret in the pyramid on which Castle Korvosa now stands. Something called ‘Midnight’s Teeth’. Our Queen wears a new crown – one that looks like it is made from the fangs of some great beast. We think she has come into possession of Midnight’s Teeth, and we need to know what they are, what powers they hold. Anything that will help us defeat her.”

When Jax mentioned ‘Midnight’s Teeth’, One-Life’s eyes narrowed. When Jax finished, he remained silent for a long time, as if considering whether to reply or not. At last he spoke.

“That of which you speak is a secret long held by the Sun Shamans of the Sklar-Quah. Not even the shamans of the other Quah knew of it, let alone any white man. In normal times, I would tell you nothing, despite my debt to you; I would choose death and dishonor first. But it seems that Midnight’s Teeth have fallen into the hands of your foolish Queen, and with them, she is as much a threat to my people as to yours. I sense that the will of the ancestors has led you to me.

“I know but the vaguest outlines of the secret we once guarded, but the memories of the ancestors know all. There is a ritual I can perform, to let the ancestors speak through me. I must gather herbs, and prepare myself. The ritual must begin two hours before dawn, so that it completes just as the sun rises over the land.”

He led the group up into the foothills of the Mindspin Mountains, and spent several hours gathering plants and roots, casting magical light to aid his search after the daylight faded. He led them to an outcrop of rock, a place that jutted out above the trees, providing a commanding view of the plains below. He instructed the group to build a blazing fire, and brewed bitter-smelling teas. In the early hours of the morning he drank them, then sat in silence, staring up at the stars. At last, he motioned to the others. “It is time.”

At his instruction, everyone sat cross-legged around the fire, hands outstretched so that each touched another, an unbroken circle of flesh and bone. One-Life began to chant in a low, droning voice. At first, Nat could understand him chanting of the heroic deeds and ancient wisdom of his ancestors, but gradually the chanting lost any clear meaning, becoming a wordless drone.

This continued for two hours before One-Life suddenly stopped. The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten. He released his grip on the people on either side of him, and raised his arms to the sky. He opened his mouth, and many voices came out, some speaking Shoanti, others Common, others languages no one recognized. But all told the same tale.

“More than 800 years ago, as the nation of Ustalav was recovering from the rule of the Whispering Tyrant, orc invasions from the neighboring Hold of Belkzen became a constant threat. For generations, the county of Tamrivena held strong against Belkzen. When rule of Tamrivena fell to Count Andachi, it quickly became apparent that he had not inherited his predecessors’ gifts of strategy or leadership. Mile by mile, the orcs pressed into Ustalav through Tamrivena, and Count Andachi grew desperate. His pleas to the government of Ustalav for reinforcements were mired in politics. Even his prayers to Desna seemed to fall upon deaf ears. With a desperation born of fear, he fell back upon his ancestors’ onetime patron — Zon-Kuthon, god of pain and darkness.

“In short order, the count’s prayers were answered in the form of a powerful and gifted mercenary named Kazavon. This charismatic general took control of Tamrivena’s army and whipped it into shape with his brutal discipline and knowledge of battle tactics. When the army marched into Belkzen, the orcs fell in waves, and by spring, the orcs had been driven into the Kodar Mountains, leaving much of central Belkzen abandoned.

“His task complete, Kazavon did not return to Ustalav. Instead, he set his forces to the construction of a mighty fortress: Castle Scarwall, from which he could remain vigilant over the surrounding lowlands. In a short time, Kazavon’s true goals became horrifically clear. Diplomats from southern Lastwall traveled to Scarwall, but their overtures of peace were met with violence as General Kazavon flayed the diplomats alive, then had their skins stretched over frames; he painted these skins with his new coat of arms: a fanged skull. The skinless dead were then animated and sent back south into Lastwall beneath these grisly banners with a demand to fall under Kazavon’s heel or be butchered.

“Aghast at this turn of events, Count Andachi at last found his courage. He raised a new army from the remnants of his people and marched west to face his former general. In a bold offensive, he laid siege to Castle Scarwall. Yet, with the next dawn, he met defeat before Kazavon’s forces. Andachi was captured, publicly tortured and degraded, and ultimately executed.

“For well over a decade, Kazavon ruled a nation of slaves, victims, and horror. Tales spread throughout the neighboring regions of fields of people impaled for the general’s amusement, of mass executions, of Shoanti hunted like wild animals and then forced to slay their own lovers and children in carnivals of terror. Whispers of cannibal feasts and vampiric orgies trickled out of Castle Scarwall. More than once, the forces of virtuous nations marched on Scarwall, yet no army could face Kazavon’s strength.

“However, where armies failed, a secret cabal of heroes from the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye would not. Led by a paladin named Mandraivus, this group discovered that one among Kazavon’s minions was willing to betray the warlord. The traitor gave Mandraivus the information he needed to infiltrate Scarwall, and Mandraivus’s supporters staged a diversion to draw out most of Kazavon’s forces, so Mandraivus could strike at Scarwall when its defenses were lowest. Mandraivus led a small strike force that snuck into the castle, and tore through Scarwall’s unsuspecting defenders.

“It was during this fight that Mandraivus’s group discovered the warlord’s great secret — Kazavon was no mere man, but rather an insane great blue wyrm who preferred living as a human rather than a dragon. During the battle, Kazavon was forced back into his draconic identity as Mandraivus struck a lethal blow with his holy sword, Serithtial, the only weapon that could harm Kazavon.

“Yet Kazavon’s corpse did not lie quiet. It seethed with dark energy, beginning to knit back together once again. The cabal used fire and acid and holy light, but in the end, seven fragments proved impossible to destroy. Mandraivus ordered the strongest of his remaining followers to each take one of these relics and scatter them to the corners of the world. None of the seven would communicate where they were going to the others or to Mandraivus in hopes of ensuring that their chosen relics would remain hidden and guarded for all time in order to prevent the dragon from returning to life. Mandraivus remained behind at Scarwall with a few loyal retainers to watch over the castle itself and prevent it from being reclaimed by the minions of Zon-Kuthon.

“One of those seven was our ancestor, a Sun Shaman of the Sklar-Quah. She returned to our people with the dragon’s fangs, which she named ‘Midnight’s Teeth’. She and the other shamans chose the ancient pyramid on the shores of Conqueror’s Bay as the fangs’ reliquary. After hiding them in a secret room deep inside the pyramid, she and her descendants swore to ensure the fangs would remain safe. For generations, they maintained their vigil — until Cheliax invaded and drove us off. The few survivors who knew the secret of the fangs were forced to flee with their kin into the Cinderlands. For the next three centuries the knowledge was passed from Sun Shaman to Sun Shaman, and we have watched with fearful eyes as the city of Korvosa has grown up around our ancient reliquary.

“You should know that Mandraivus’s victory proved short-lived. The orcs of Belkzen regained their strength and attacked Castle Scarwall soon after Mandraivus’s strongest followers scattered. The few remaining defenders were overwhelmed and Mandraivus slain, but a terrible curse descended on the castle with Mandraivus’s death. Those of his followers who returned to Scarwall found it a cursed and haunted place, holding only death and undeath. It is said that no living thing has set foot in Scarwall in 700 years – and survived.”

As One-Life’s ancestors’ voices faded, the light of the rising sun struck the rock on which they sat. As it shone through the smoke of their fire, the smoke began to twist and churn, and a figure appeared. It is Zellara, and she began singing in a clear, haunting voice:

When she finished singing, Zellara gazed down at the party. “You must retrieve the blade, Serithtial – only with its power may you defeat that which has consumed the Queen.” As her ghostly form faded away, the party felt a surge of power from beyond the curtain of the spirit world.

One-Life looked at the people around him with new-found respect. “Truly, you are blessed by the ancestors! You walk with the spirits, and bear the spirits’ mark.

“Your spirit guide spoke true. The relics of Kazavon are fragments of his soul, and each is like a seed – once they find fertile soil, they can grow mighty indeed. In this case, your Queen’s own cruelty and greed has been enhanced greatly by the power of the Fangs. Worse, she now possesses two souls – her own, and one grown from a fragment of Kazavon’s. This would grant her incredible power over her own mortality, power that only a mighty artifact such as Serithtial could overcome.”

One-Life looked out at the rising sun for a long moment, then turned back to the party. “My people have suffered greatly at the hands of your people, and long have we warred with you. Until this dawn, my only desire was to lead the Shoanti in bloody battle against those who have stolen our lands and our heritage. But I see now that that vengeance must be set aside. My ancestors devoted generations to preventing the Fangs of Kazavon from falling into mortal hands. Now that they have, it is our duty to take them back. I ask that you take me with you, back to Thousand Bones, so that we may try to try to find a way for the Shoanti to aid you in your war against your Queen.”

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The PCs earned 11,534 XP, putting them at 167,502 XP with 210,000 required for Level 13.