The Grand Betrayer

Sulfur and smoke choked the air of the plateau as a small three-wagon caravan snaked its way among the countless corpses and bones of dragons. For many this was a sacred place, but the occupants of the wagons held no such reverence.

"Let's hurry this along. I don't like this place." one of the duergar mumbled.

At that moment a geyser of magma burst from the ground some fifty yards to the right of the caravan. The light from the heat it produced illuminated the landscape revealing the prize they sought. As the lava splattered to the ground it reduced the rotting carcass of an old copper dragon to slag. The stench was nauseating.

A hooded figure from the front of the caravan signaled a halt. He was the only surface dwarf among the duergar caravan and his complexion betrayed him as such. As he raised his right arm to request a slowing of the wagons, a jawless skull set behind a purple sunburst could be seen tattooed on the back of his hand. This marked him as clergy of the mad god Cyric, the pendent he wore openly around his neck denoted his allegiance to the dreaded Cult of the Dragon. Slowly he pointed to the north and turned to speak.

"Just ahead there to the northeast is a full skeleton of a blue. I require it disassembled and every piece accounted for before it is loaded upon the wagons. Time is a luxury currently, so proceed with care. Your attention to detail will be rewarded."

As the deep dwarves set to work, one among them of a considerably more muscular build came to stand beside the robed cleric. Both surveyed the team of duergar with satisfaction as they gathered up and loaded the blue dragon skeleton bit by bit. The surface dwarf addressed the duergar captain without facing him.

"You have procured the spirit of the drow necromancer?"

"Yes master." came the reply. The spirit in question had been bound to an enchanted astral diamond just one day prior.

"Well done, Captain." he breathed as he pulled his hood back. A balding head of gray hair, an eye patch worn over his right eye, and a sneer were the features that stood out. Scars could be seen about his neck and hands where tattoos were not placed. He had come to lead the duergar clan based on his reputation alone. Some called him "The Grand Betrayer", some insisted that he had seen almost half a century of years, and some alleged that he was hated even in the depths of the Abyss. A spellscar of bluish-purple decorated his throat as a testament to his surviving the spellplague. He turned to face the duergar Captain and spoke.

"Let us discuss our relocation of operations to Cormyr. I would like to maintain some proximity to Westmeath once this particular plan comes to fruition."

"At once, Lord Bim." was the captain's simple reply, and with that they departed into the closest wagon.