Session 0: The Clan's Blood Is My Blood

Here's what our heroes were told at the start of the first session.

Daan shac't rhuul an ghec rhuul. The clan’s blood is my blood.

You learned this during conversations with your elders, long before you set foot in the Sunless Citadel. It was drilled into your heads during target practice, hiding games, foraging.

When a group of human adventurers--the Knights of Ignatius, they called themselves--drove the Cragmaw Clan out of the woods of the Sword Coast, your longtime protectors could no longer shelter you. It seemed like you had nowhere else to turn. But the elders repeated: Daan shac't rhuul an ghec rhuul. Shaman Grennl trusted that you’d find a new way. Spindlelegs, the butcher, put it a different way: ““Laan’raan huukec. Daan duur ter oc an, rhor daan maac ghuugec dhuugar. Ar’n dar daan druun.” -- "We’re goblins. The world shits on us, but we keep moving forward. It’s what we do.”

And you kept repeating this mantra until you found a new home in the bowels of the earth. You journeyed to a sunken citadel, away from prying eyes.

One day, a human druid came to your chief. You don’t know what the human promised, but he gained access to the lowest levels of the citadel. You didn’t dare follow him. Soon, some of the grown ups were given apples to sell. They went above-ground with seeds and returned with food and gold. The shaman was pleased as you fed and grew. Daan shac't rhuul an ghec rhuul.

Your lives continued until a group of hobgoblins emerged from the second level. They slew your old chief, the mentor that had guided you for so long. This new hobgoblin leader, Chief Durnn, demanded that you take every inch of the citadel for yourself. You heard there was a town of kobolds. Your parents and older siblings were forced into increasingly dangerous battles with these rat-dragons. Some never returned. Some of the warriors went underground at the druid’s request.

There was a tension in the air for weeks on end as Chief Durnn’s requests grew more extreme. You hoped that one of the adults--Spindlelegs, Bollock, Skonlda, even old Rotgut--would stand up to him. But they didn’t. Spindlelegs said, “Daan'kaan huukec. Den an daan duul or dec.” - “We’re goblins. This is the way of things.” Things were changing quickly. Soon, your own bed rooms were no longer yours - they housed a white dragon wyrmling. Your school-room became a prison for kobolds and a strange gnome. Humans were captured and shuttled down the pit into the second layer.

And then, the pot of tension boiled over. Drigglezub told Trix and Glenn first about a group of strange creatures who had entered--she heard that your elders were going to ambush them outside the prison.

But the elders never came back.

Soon, you heard the sounds of battle in the throne room. Bollock rushed in to tell you that these humans, elves, and beasts were killing Chief Durnn, and asked for you to hide. Hide you did. A few hours later, the humans were in your makeshift village in that citadel, asking for your protection and promising liberation.

What came next is a blur. Some thought of it as justice, and some as tragedy, but the druid called forth twig monsters, the humans fought back, and soon--well, perhaps this goblin poetry can sum it up:

Ac A duuc’r ogaac ghaakec daan muul or ogac dar kaalaan ac duun daan duukaan or Huul ac rhaac, ghalec a shegaan der khruun oc ac khruun Huul.

And I won’t even mention the howl of orphans that reaches up to the throne of God and beyond, making a circle with no end and no God.

You remember the rest more clearly. Spindlelegs saved you. He took you above the surface, back to the Sword Coast, and you returned to foraging ways. He encouraged you to learn the skills you needed to save yourselves, so you wouldn’t need to choose between two warring bands of humans ever again. You launched a few attacks on merchant caravans, eventually going to the town of Brindinford.

Brindinford is famous for a cosmopolitan street fair. Spindlelegs said that they should wait outside as he scouted it out/scoped it out, and to run without a trace if he wasn't back by nightfall. You all waited for days (and maybe tried to go in yourself, but the more responsible members held you back). He didn't come back. Daan shac't rhuul an ghec rhuul. The clan’s blood is my blood. What did it mean?

So where else could you turn, but back to the Citadel?

You went back under ground and finally had the chance to explore that second level safely. Maybe there was food. You know that Rotgut was the last to go underground, and he never came back. You followed the tunnels past the point of no return--into the Underdark.

Lots of bioluminescent fungal forests and massive caverns. Cave systems larger than football fields and causeways leading on for miles.

But soon, you started to dream. Dark shadows seem to move and reach out toward them as the characters wander lost through endless mazes of tunnels.

And one day, you woke up--without your weapons, or armor, or belongings beyond the scraps of clothes. Tremble didn’t even have his glasses. You were shoved into caves in an outpost called Velkynvelve.

Captured by the drow! You wouldn’t wish this fate upon anyone, yet here you are—locked in a dark cave, the cold, heavy weight of metal tight around your throat and wrists. You are not alone. Other prisoners are trapped in here with you, in an underground outpost far from the light of the sun.

Your captors include a cruel drow priestess who calls herself Mistress Ilvara of House Mizzrym. Over the past several days, you’ve met her several times, robed in silken garments and flanked by two male drow, one of whom has a mass of scars along one side of his face and neck.

Mistress Ilvara likes to impress her will with scourge in hand and remind you that your life now belongs to her. “Accept your fate, learn to obey, and you may survive.” Her words echo in your memory, even as you plot your escape, because another phrase echoes even louder: “Daan shac't rhuul an ghec rhuul. The clan’s blood is my blood.”

It’s been eight days since you’ve been captured.