Episode 42 - Noctharl, the Wyrm of the Lightless Deep

Previously on All Drow All the Time, the quest continued as the party pressed deeper along the Backroad, leaving Hammerhand behind as they descended toward the drow city of Holoth.

At the edge of a vast, lightless lake, the water began to tremble. First, a ripple. Then a shudder. Then the surface parted—silent, smooth, unnatural—as a colossal shape rose from the depths. Wings like torn night unfurled. A serpentine neck coiled upward. Two void‑black eyes, rimmed in faint violet embers, fixed on the travelers.

A massive Shadow Dragon, and it spoke.

“A Duergar on the Back Road? It has been an age since Noctharl, the Wyrm of the Lightless Deep, has seen your kind. Not since the exodus from Embla.  In those days, I bore a name of fire, Pyregor the Ember Tyrant. Your ancestors feared that name and honored it.  For Pyregor gave Embla life.  But that dragon died in the Shadowfell. Noctharl rose in his place.”

The wyrm’s wings shifted, sending ripples across the black water.

“This road was mine long before your kind fled Embla. And in those days, the Duergar paid for passage with spells… magic… gold… blood… songs… or vows.  In the Shadowfell, true strength is what is surrendered willingly. So, tell me. What will you offer Noctharl to pass unscathed?”

Ahl d’Kukyz and the party stepped forward eagerly and delivered a performance for the ages. A set of eight songs and an encore, each one echoing across the cavern.  

The dragon listened, still as stone, until at last he rumbled, “Ahl d’Kukyz has pleased Noctharl. The dragonborn may pass unscathed.”

Then the wyrm turned to the rest of the party.

“And the rest of you. What will you surrender willingly to Noctharl to pass unscathed?”

The group hesitated. Debated between giving the shadow dragon what it wanted to the other extreme of outright hostilities. Considered whether the ancient dragon was bluffing and nothing more than three kobolds with sticks under a holocaust cloak.  Ary turned to leave and motioned for the others to follow.

Noctharl’s eyes narrowed. His chest expanded with a slow, deliberate inhale. The cavern dimmed as shadows thickened around his jaws.

Disrespected, the Wyrm of the Lightless Deep unleashed a torrent of necrotic breath from the Shadowfell.

Initiative was rolled as the battle of Shadow Lake had begun.