The Everburning Wick

Stone is scraping. The rumble of the ancient mechanism alerts us all to the inevitable descent of the invaders from the prime plane. Their God has sent new warriors to retrieve the Everburning Wick to relieve a feeble decision made long ago by one of their own. The party will fail as did the last party and the last party before and the party before that. Those attempting to navigate our temple are destined to fail. Their bones will serve as a warning to the next party that their old God decides to send through his gate from his world into ours. Their deaths will be a celebration! A feast will be made of their flesh. The pitiful prime races have always been food to our kind. It is the way of Sigril-Na, survival of the fittest.

Glory be to the scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na

The warriors, we have found out, have always been on a quest to prove themselves to their foul God. They were to not only extinguish the Everburning Wick, but cause undue pain unto Sigril-Na by absconding the relic away from our temple. The Pearl Knights, as their God has named them, were clad in pearlescent spangle like that of the inside of a shell from our dried seas. The foul God has been sending in these Pearl Knights of his for eons. They seem to be never aware of the constant turmoil that the foul God had brought upon our once beautiful and fertile land. The battles between the gracious Sigril-Na and the fetid Unnamable God have exhausted the spirit of our realm and laid waste to the countryside.

All of the life that was decimated was for an artifact of legend – the Everburning Wick.

Sigril-Na, the Great Salamander, has kept the Everburning Wick out of the hands of the polluted Unnamable out of sheer defiance. It is the Everburning Wick that keeps our realm living. Without it, our lands will perish. It is the life-bringer to our realm. It alone sustains the little warmth that keeps all of us living. It is the very essence of the Great Salamander himself. If it should be extinguished, there would be no rebuilding of our world. We would fall astray from the path that the Great Salamander, Sigril-Na has laid before us. For that, we would extract a high price and declare a war so reverent and holy that the various pantheons of the prime races could not deny us the head of their Unnamable God. Then we scaled warriors would feast upon the flesh of the foul god in hopes that the benediction of his death would revive Sigril-Na back into the Great Salamander; much like the phoenix rising out of the ashen earth, our fires would burn brightly again!

Glory be to the scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na

Stone rumbles again. By the sound of it, the rumblings are still from the door atop the temple. They have found the turnkey in the Atrium Chamber. Could it be that these chosen of the rotting Unnamable were the cowards that we have always known? It is more than likely that they are curious as to how the ancient mechanism works. Perhaps one of them knows our language and has activated the mirror exit, which leads to the outside of the temple. It has been known that the Pearl Knights were taught the language of Sigril-Na. It is a tactic that the foul God relishes. He feels that it may cause tension in our noble warriors to hear one of the soft-skins speak our words. His feeble plan does not work – our warriors are only incensed to increase their attacks.

I have crawled up through the viewing passages to the Atrium Chamber. I can see them. It is my job to report back to Leved Gix, our own Noble Salamander. He wishes updates on their movements throughout the temple. It is our Noble's job to guard the temple with his life. One of our holiest of Nagas is laid to rest here. The Sainted Chomal was given the task by Sigril-Na to infiltrate the denizen of the wretched Unnamable and poison his family. Chomal did not complete this task. Instead the Sainted Chomal executed a far better plan in the eyes of Sigril-Na by not only capturing the one of the hateful Unnamable’s daughters, but also dismantling her bit by bit, bone by bone to feed to our most noble warriors. The pain seen in the Unnamable’s face was exquisite. The fury of the soulless God destroyed what was left of our oceans. His heartbreak was as great as his hatred.

Glory be to the scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na

The invaders have already opened the passageway to the Receiving Hall. Our mephits are already salivating for the taste of soft pink flesh. The abominations of the Unnamable God have no idea what waits for them in our temple. In the name of Sigril-Na, I hope they burn like none other. One of the Pearl Knights is an elf. We've not seen the elven since we partook of the Unnamable’s daughter. They were also elven and her flesh was exquisite. The feast was as luscious as the fair maiden and as bloody as her father’s heart. They descend slowly, somehow knowing that they are soon going to die.

The passageways coursing throughout the temple are small and winding. They were built for us smaller salamanders so that we could report on the goings on to our Noble. I hear the sounds of combat. No doubt the Pearl Knights in all of their inglorious hue have employed the most base of reactions. To the prime races, all battle is fought with the blade, bow or blunt. To we of the scale, it is fought with tooth, tail and tactics. This is why the mephits are stationed within the Receiving Hall. The mephit warriors can summon their own kind if their magic is not interrupted. Soon the Pearl Knights would be in retreat as the mephits overrun the primes.

Glory be to the scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na

In getting to the viewing hole in the Receiving Hall, I can see the foul Pearl Knights have thwarted our mephits' summoning magic and have taken up standard battle practices. The elf has the power; I can see it in him. The others have a scant touch – but not as much as this elf. The Unnamable may have prepared them. I feel the urge to leap out of the viewing hole to sink my teeth into the face of the pointy-eared prime. I cannot join the fray even though my mephit brethren of the scale are being beaten. It is my job to watch and report to my Noble.

I crawl through the tight space and sound the alarm to the patrol of fire newts in the Meeting Chamber and the Barracks. The plan is now to overrun the Pearl Knights with sheer numbers. These paltry warriors are the cannon fodder of our Noble. These newts are one of the first lines of defenses available to my Noble. I can feel his calm presence in my mind. My Noble is aware of what I am seeing. He is not afraid. He knows that he will taste their flesh and bones. These Pearl Knights will fail as the others before them have. There is still one of the foul Pearl Knights locked up in the Laboratory that is adjacent to the Meeting Chamber. His nobility and pride vanished when the assault started on his group of Pearl Knights. He committed suicide with a Wand of Frost. He was a coward of a gnome.

The Pearl Knights have a slight advantage with their strength and power granted to them by their foul God. Our newt warriors are burning as best they can, but the malevolent presence of the Unnamable is in the room and following the cursed Pearl Knights around. I can feel the newts panic. I can see them fall. Scales and blood seep into the stone flooring. I can feel the rage building inside of me. I want to strike them down and taste their flesh. I want to constrict their bones with my tail. I want to see their eyes fill with their own blood and then pop from their skulls.

My Noble calms me. He soothes me. He tells me, "This is all part of the plan little one. I am drawing them into my trap." My blood is still boiling, but I concede. He is the Noble, not I. I do not lead; it is my job to report my findings. Glee!

Glory be to the scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na

I follow the invaders down the hallway towards the Fountain Room. I know that I'm smiling because my teeth are dry. One of our noble warriors, Kelass, is praying to the likeness of Sigril-Na and partaking of our holy water. He will take out the foul invaders. My Noble feels proud of me.

One of the Pearl Knights attempts to peer around the corner, but his sword connects with is pearlescent spangle. It is enough of a noise to alert our noble salamander warrior. The battle ensues with the three Pearl Knights. He is quick and strong. Kelass launches into a flurry of attacks with his flaming great spear and his tail. These primes have no idea how to fight one of our warriors. The iron in the spearhead is set aflame with the heat coming off of the warrior. Their weapons do little against our hides.

Glory be to the Scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na.

The elf is posing a problem. His blade, enchanted with some foul magics from the Unnamable seems to be actually hurting my brother. Some elemental lightning trapped within the blade is reaching through the toughened hide of Kelass. The two humans attempt to jump into the fray to help defend the foul elf. One of the humans has disarmed my brother; the other has kicked the spear away. Again, I can feel my blood boiling, but I feel the calm reassurance of my Noble. It is his will that I bend to, his and that of Sigril-Na.

Another of our noble warriors has heard the sounds of battle and watches carefully from the hallway. Gevad is evaluating the situation and waiting to strike. Such is the will of Sigril-Na. One of the humans has noticed the statue of Sigril-Na and seen the relic that he has left our people. The Shield of Sigril-Na is poised on the statue as a warning. The mirror on the shield is meant to distract our enemy and help to reflect our holy flame. What the human doesn't know is that the mirror is cursed by their wicked Unnamable God. The mirror now only reflects the pain and suffering that He feels for the loss of his daughter. It is now mirrored magical acid instead of bright steel.

My noble brother waiting in the hallway has made his decision and joined in the combat. Quickly he strikes the foul Pearl Knight that had kicked the spear away from his partner. The nearly bald human is now wrapped up in the tail of the salamander warrior. My own tail coils in excitement. I can almost feel the life draining out of the outsider. It is always a good day when a foul servant of the Unnamable God dies.

Glee! The elf, in an attempt to strike Kelass has thrown his accursed blade directly into the Shield of Sigril-Na! The curse that the Unnamable had laid upon the holy relic has destroyed the elf's blade and released its magic. It is no more than steel now. The human standing in the fountain, let him be cursed, noticed that the shield has performed the miraculous act of warping the scimitar accidentally thrown by the elf.

Curse his eyes, curse his eyes, curse his eyes! A spark of intelligence ran across the face of the bearded human. Horror! He is desecrating the statue of Sigril-Na! He is attempting to hack off the arm holding the mirrored shield. The Pearl Knight cannot be allowed to succeed. If he uses the shield against the two noble warriors, hope may be lost.

My Noble calms my mind again. "Patience," he whispers. My Noble's thoughts turn to ire when the foul elf pulls out another enchanted blade. How many blades did the foul Unnamable God give to this prime?

The bald human is dropped to the floor as the constriction and spear jabs from Gevad have brought death to the Pearl Knight. Glee! Only two of the foul emissaries of God remain. Kelass and Gevad are now flanking the elf. He will soon die.

Glory be to the scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na

A scream of pain and agony come from the statue. Glee! The Pearl Knight has discovered that the Shield of Sigril-Na is cursed by his own God. Four of the warrior's fingers are now steaming masses of flesh and bone. I can smell the blood in the air. I can almost taste it. I want to run up and chomp down on the injured hands. I want to taste the flesh of the Pearl Knights.

Oh horror! The six-fingered Pearl Knight has picked up the Shield of Sigril-Na and is rushing towards Kelass! I start to scream out, but the firm hand of my Noble keeps my voice silent. "It is Sigril-Na's will as to what happens." I repeat our benediction in my mind.

Glory be to the Scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na.

Kelass is beheaded by the shield in a short amount of time. His hide is bruised and blacked in parts from the foul acid touch of the Unnamable. Gevad is aware of what is going on as well and redoubles his efforts to entangle the elf in his tail. A quick move gives Gevad the advantage and soon he has the foul elf in his tail and begins to squeeze. I can feel the life force ebbing from the foul elf. He collapses soon. Elves are known to be frail creatures. I can almost taste his sweet flesh. I am salivating.

The six-fingered Pearl Knight with the cursed Shield of Sigril-Na is the only Pearl Knight left. His own blood stains his pearlescent clothing. The shield touches Gevad's flesh and I can smell the burning of our noble flesh. Curse his eyes, curse his eyes, curse his eyes! If only he had never pulled the shield from the statue. If only he had never seen the curse in action.

Glory be to the Scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na.

My jaw falls open. Gevad has fallen. His hide is marred by the acid touch of the shield. How I hate the Pearl Knights. How I hate the Unnamable God. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! The six-fingered Pearl Knight has dragged the two other fallen and revived them to life in our fountain. A pox on them, a pox on all of the primes!

"It is Sigril-Na's will as to what happens," echoes my Noble.

They are now able to move back and retreat to the Atrium Chamber. They collect the dead bodies of our smaller warriors, those of the fire newts and the mephits. They have holed themselves up in the Atrium Chamber and are eating the flesh of our fallen. It is sacrilege.

"I will taste of their flesh," my Noble assures me.

Glory be to the Scale. Glory be to Sigril-Na.