>>5424876One tale the Queen of Elves shares with you raises the most interest, though it is truly more of a rumour. Among the monkey-like ‘ghouls’ lurking among the Drow dead, there is allegedly a greater power. They allege a greater size and strength than its kin, which is sensible enough if it is a formidable beats getting the choicest corpses for its feast… But the Queen of Elves also tells of the recent funerary procession, for a dead Prince of an allied house, and this tale is what most piques your interest.
“The pallbearers who carried the Prince’s body through the tunnels to the funerary caves, to make preparations for the division of the Prince’s body and the preparation of his soul for the journey beyond this life… They reported that as they approach the caves, the Prince’s own body begin to twitch,a nd to jerk.”
“He was still alive?” you ask.
Queen Myrymma shakes her head, fixing you with a subtle look as if to say: ‘Do you think we are fools?’
“He had been laying out upon a slab for a wake of three suns and three moons, as is our way. His heart did not beat, his chest did not rise. But as the journey continued... They say that he began to laugh.”
You nod, and bid her continue.
“The bearers grew nervous, suspecting a demon or evil spirit. After a fashion, it may have been, for as they got within eyesight of the funerary caves, the body leapt from the litter they carries and sprung into the tunnels. They pursued…”
She pauses, glancing to her attendant, who fidgets nervously, though he clearly ahs heard SOME of the tale by his expression—not just dreading, but EXPECTING, what comes next.
“The pallbearers who pursued the prince ran right into a waiting nest of ghouls. Some, they say, wielded the rusted and broken grave-weapons of dead Drow. And the prince… He ran right into the arms of a taller, stronger sort of ghoul, who lifted him up and carried him away, while the ghouls set upon the pallbearers.”
You recall the pitiful, doughy flesh you recently supped upon—the scrawniness of the limbs.
“Was it… MUCH bigger?” you ask. “And these ghouls… They were well-organized, to fend off your forces?”
“They did more than ‘fend them of’,” Myrymma admits with a sigh. “They slew all but two, of six who pursued. They chased and drove back six more. All were skilled, respected elf-men and elf-maids. The survivors were shamed, embarrassed, and… Afraid. They may have embellished. But…”
“But the death of four warriors at the hands of ghouls, and frightening of a small platoon of Drow, was enough to make you consider what they had to say.”
The Queen does not speak, but meets your eyes. This, and her proposal of the slaying of this spectre as a possible labour, says enough.
