Deltora Quest feats, lore & respect discussion thread

[Stocking Anarchy]

Ols are shape-shifting formless horrors created by the Shadow Lord to spy and do its evil bidding. When attacking, they reveal their true forms.

The Dread Gnome Sha-Ban told me of these white, formless creatures that could take the shape of any living thing - human, animal, or even insect. When attacking, she said, Ols emerge from their disguise, rising like ghastly, flickering white flames with holes for eyes, gaping, toothless mouths, and strangling hands.

“What are these Ols?” Jasmine demanded, as she passed Dain a mug of tea for himself.
“Shape-changers from the Shadowlands,” Dain said, stirring a spoonful of honey into his own cup. “The Shadow Lord uses them to do his evil work. Perhaps I should not be surprised that you have not heard of them before. They are more common here, in the west, than in the east, where you come from.”

There are three levels of Ol; Grade One Ols, Grade Two Ols and Grade Three Ols, which each level up getting better at disguising itself, smarter and more powerful. Ols can take the shape of any living thing. Though they do not eat or drink, Grade Two Ols can pretend to do so, and even create body heat to further their disguise. Every Ol has the mark of the Shadow Lord somewhere on its body (though Grade Two Ols and up are much more clever with where they hide their marks), and Grade Two Ols can only hold their form for three days, after which their shape begins to change and waver for a few seconds (this is called the tremor).

“They are everywhere,” Dain said, pulling his blanket more tightly around him. “They can take the shape of any living thing. They do not eat or drink, but Grade Twos can pretend to do so, just as they can create body heat to disguise what they are. In its natural state, every Ol has the mark of the Shadow Lord at its core, and whatever shape it takes, the mark will be somewhere on its body, in some form.
“The twins — the Ols we killed — each had a mark on the left cheekbone,” said Lief. “Was that —?”
Dain nodded. “But do not expect that it will always be so easy,” he warned. “Grade Two Ols are far more expert. They never have the mark in plain view.”
“You are saying, then,” Barda put in, frowning, “that recognizing a Grade Two Ol is just a matter of luck?”
Dain smiled slightly. “There is a way of testing them,” he said. “They cannot hold one shape for longer than three full days. If you observe a Grade Two Ol, and never let it out of your sight, there will come a moment when it loses control and its shape begins to change and waver. We call this moment the Tremor. It does not last long. In seconds the Ol has regained control. But by that time, you know it for what it is.”

Grade One Ols always travel in pairs (though Grade Two Ols may not have this limitation, and Grade Three Ols defiantely don't).

Dain swallowed the last of his tea and stood up awkwardly, protecting his injured arm. “I will leave you in peace. Be on the watch for Ols. Grade Ones, like the two we have just dispatched, always travel in pairs. The others — well, you will probably not recognize them, anyway. It is best to trust no one.”

The Shadow Lord sent hundreds of Ols into Deltora to spy and kill.

She said that Ols had been created by the Shadow Lord and sent into Deltora in the hundreds to spy and kill.

To kill an Ol, one must pierce it through its heart, which is located on the right hand side.

“Through the heart!” the injured boy shouted. “Stab it through the heart! Kill it outright or it will finish him!”
“It is stabbed through the heart already,” Jasmine shrieked. “It does not fall.”
Growling, the thing turned on her. With a cry she was swept aside by a rush of white that sent her sprawling.
“Now, Lief! Strike on the right side!” the boy screamed. “The heart is on the right side, not the left!”

Ols posses incredible strength, and their touch is so cold as to be crippling.

If you suspect you are in the company of an Ol, slip away quietly. Do not try to stand and fight. Ols have enormous strength, and the dread chill of their touch is crippling. They can only be destroyed by being pierced through the heart, which is on the right side instead of the left.

An Ols touch can chill to the bone.

The boy nodded briefly, then limped to where Barda was lying and looked down at him. “Your friend needs warming,” he said. “He is wet, and Ol attacks chill to the bone.”

An attack from even a Grade One Ol can leave bruises (seemingly from the sheer cold), as it did with Barda.

“Or,” Barda put in, “if your suspicions are correct, to be spied upon by the Ol at its leisure, or killed when you least expect it. Once those icy fingers are around your throat, you are helpless. You can take my word for it, Jasmine.” He touched his own bruised throat tenderly.

We also see this when Doom is attacked by a Grade Three Ol.

He clasped the Belt around his waist and threw himself down to the bottom of the pyramid, to where Doom lay. Doom was muttering, shuddering with cold. His lips were blue. Great red marks wound around his neck. There was a swelling bruise on his brow.

Regular weapons are useless against an Ol in its true form except if used to pierce through it's heart.

Gasping in horror, Jasmine and Lief both lunged forward, stabbing and tearing at the thing, trying to pull it away from Barda. The cold, wavering mass shrank and re-formed. The thing staggered, but its grip held.
“Through the heart!” the injured boy shouted. “Stab it through the heart! Kill it outright or it will finish him!”
“It is stabbed through the heart already,” Jasmine shrieked. “It does not fall.”
Growling, the thing turned on her. With a cry she was swept aside by a rush of white that sent her sprawling.
“Now, Lief! Strike on the right side!” the boy screamed. “The heart is on the right side, not the left!”

The cold of an Ol is said to freeze limbs, sting eyes and turn lips to ice. An Ol picks up Jasmine with one hand, while grabbing Lief's arm with the other (with it's grip being compared with 'frozen iron').

The chill of the Ol came before it — a breathtaking cold that froze the limbs, stung the eyes, and turned the lips to ice. Gasping, staggering back, trying to shield Lief with her body, Jasmine swung her dagger at the white, grasping fingers. Half-stunned with cold, Kree dashed himself against the thing’s peaked head.
But nothing, nothing could stop it. The fingers of one hand snaked forward and caught Jasmine around the neck, lifting her from the ground. Almost carelessly, the other hand grasped Lief’s dagger arm in a grip of frozen iron. The dagger fell clattering to the deck.

Beyond Grade One and Grade Two are Grade Three Ols, in whom the Shadow Lord is said to have perfected his evil art. They can turn into even inanimate objects, and can mimic a person so perfectly that not even Doom (who can sense the presence of Ols) can tell them for what they are.

Jasmine lifted her chin stubbornly and turned again to Dain. “You have spoken of Grade One Ols, and Grade Twos. Are there other grades as well?”
Dain hesitated. “Doom says that there is another,” he said reluctantly at last. “He says there are Grade Three Ols. He says they are few, but in them the Shadow Lord has perfected his evil art. They can change their shape to whatever they wish — living or nonliving. They are so perfect, so completely controlled, that no one could tell them for what they are. Even Doom could not.”
“Then how does he know they exist at all?” Jasmine demanded.
Lief watched, fascinated, as Dain’s eyelids drooped, and he bit his lip. What was troubling him?
Jasmine saw the hesitation, too, and pounced. “Well?” she insisted.
Dain swallowed. “Doom says — he says he learned of them — in the Shadowlands,” he muttered.

And Doom claimed that there were Ols who could take the form of things that were not living — Grade 3 Ols, the perfection of the Shadow Lord’s evil art. If the tale was true, and such beings really existed, the very bush on which Kree perched, or the pebble at Lief’s feet, could be a secret enemy. At any moment a horrible transformation could begin. At any moment a white, flickering specter with the Shadow Lord’s mark in its core could rise and overwhelm them.
Nowhere was safe. Nothing could be trusted.

At least one of the advisors for the royal family of Del, Prandine, and his successor Fallow, were Grade Three Ols.

... where one dies, there is always another to take his place. The Master likes this face and form. He chose to repeat it in me ...
Lief had not known what that meant, when first he heard it. Now he knew only too well.
Fallow was an Ol, and perhaps — almost certainly — one of the Grade 3 Ols Doom had heard of in the Shadowlands. The triumph of the Shadow Lord’s evil art. An Ol so perfect, so controlled, that no one could tell it was not human. An Ol that could mimic nonliving things as well as living creatures. An Ol that was evil and powerful beyond anything Lief could imagine.
Prandine, King Endon’s chief advisor, had been one such being. Of that Lief was sure. Fallow, made in his image, had taken up the Shadow Lord’s work where Prandine had finished.

However, while Grade Three Ols are the most powerful of all the Ols, when in human form they are also the most vulnerable.

Lief turned restlessly. Queen Sharn had killed Prandine — tipped him from the palace tower window to crash to his death. Grade 3 Ols paid a price for their perfection, then. They could die as humans could.

Dain reveals that he too is a Grade Three Ol, and took the form of his own dagger when he tricked everyone into thinking Ichabod had kidnapped him.

His mouth twisted in scorn at the expressions on Lief’s face. “You fool! You never dreamed that Ichabod was acting under my orders. That he had not carried me away, but was running alone in the dark, babbling of Del! And when you found the dagger I had become, you did not suspect it for a moment — even though you knew that Grade 3 Ols could take any shape they wished. You put it in your own belt, as I knew you would, snivelling for my loss, little knowing that you were carrying me with you from that time on. I was watching your every move. Listening to your every plan. Waiting to see how best I could destroy the devil Steven and that accursed Belt. And when I knew enough — I left you, and came here to prepare ... this.”

Dain's grip is compared to 'icy steel,' and with a glance he makes it so that Lief's sword is too hot for him to hold.

His hand swung, striking Lief’s arm a tremendous blow, knocking the Belt into the fire. With a cry, Lief grabbed for it. But Dain had his wrist in a grip of icy steel. Dain’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly Lief’s sword was white-hot. It fell from his blistered hand and clattered, useless, down the steps of the platform.

Dain transforms back into his true form to avoid being stabbed in the heart by Doom, and the cold that's unleashed extinguishes

With a cry, Doom leaped upon Dain, knocking him down, his sword plunging for the heart. But Dain twisted like a snake, his body dissolving, rising again in a column of sickly white. Icy mist coiled around him. He whirled around, his fingers reaching for Doom’s throat. Long, thin fingers, bringing with them the chill of death.
Lief staggered back, shuddering in a cold that was beyond imagining. The fire wavered, and went out.

These flames were part of a bonfire to burn Dain (whom even the Grey Guards don't realise is a Grade Three Ol), which was even oiled to make it burn more furiously.

Torches were blazing everywhere. Ten Grey Guards were working in the middle of the square. They were heaving huge blocks of stone into place to make a stepped pyramid with a flat top. Through the center of the pyramid rose a tall pole, towering high and held in place by the blocks that surrounded it.

Torches were blazing everywhere. Ten Grey Guards were working in the middle of the square. They were heaving huge blocks of stone into place to make a stepped pyramid with a flat top. Through the center of the pyramid rose a tall pole, towering high and held in place by the blocks that surrounded it.

“Awake at last, your majesty?” Bak 1 was sneering. “That’s good.” He beckoned, and his fellows began toiling up towards him, their arms full of dead branches. As they dumped the wood around Dain’s feet, piling it high, Bak 6 sprinkled it with oil.

In seconds he had reached the platform. Alone he leaped up to the top, sliced through the ropes that bound Dain, pulled the limp body from the flames.

When Dain is destroyed, all the other Ols in the square are left in a confused & aimless state.

Lief looked up wildly. Jasmine and Barda were racing towards him. The Ols in the square were not coming after them. They were wavering, aimlessly clustering together, as though they were confused. It was as though the source of their power had been struck a blow by the destruction of the great one among them.
But already some of them were starting to recover. And the red clouds were tumbling, boiling, as they raced towards the city.

There at least a hundred of Ols in the square.

Shouts and groans rang from the square as Jasmine and Barda, torches blazing, held back a hundred crawling Ols, and the prisoners were dragged away. The sky was a mass of scarlet cloud.

Rats poured from the little yard where the caravan stood. As they ran they shimmered and paled, rising into wavering white flames with coals for eyes and gaping, toothless mouths. And in the core of every one was the Shadow Lord’s mark.

 

[Stocking Anarchy]

The Ak-Baba are seven dreadful birds that serve the Shadow Lord. They eat the flesh of the dead and live for a thousand years. It was the seven Ak-Baba who carried the seven gems to be hidden in the most feared, dreadful places in Deltora.

It was still too dark to see them clearly. But there was no doubt that they were huge birds. There were seven. Their necks were long. Their great, hooked beaks were cruel. Their mighty wings flapped clumsily but strongly, beating at the air. As Jarred watched, they swooped, rose again, and then separated, flying off swiftly in different directions.
A name came to him. A name from the school room of his past. “Ak-Baba,” he hissed. His arm tightened around Anna’s shoulders. She turned to him, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Ak-Baba,” he repeated slowly, still staring at the palace. “Great birds that eat dead flesh and live for a thousand years. Seven of them serve the Shadow Lord.”

“Seven Ak-Baba were flying together around the palace tower on the day the gems were taken,” he went on.
“They separated and flew off in different directions. We believe that each was carrying one of the gems, and each was going to one particular place to hide it. See here. I have drawn a map.”

Lief’s blood seemed to chill in his veins. His father had told him of the Ak-Baba — giant, vulture-like birds that lived a thousand years. Seven of them were the servants of the Shadow Lord. It was they who had carried the gems from the Belt of Deltora to their perilous hiding places.

The Shadow Lord uses the Ak-Baba when a task requires great speed.

It is now recognised, however, that the seven Ak-Baba patrolling Deltora are wild birds. They are creatures of the Shadow Lord, used to spy, destroy, and accomplish tasks that require great speed.

The seven Ak-Baba are altered versions of birds from a distant land across the seas called al-baba, but the seven Ak-Baba of the Shadow Lord have been altered to be bigger, stronger, more dangerous and more evil than the regular birds. The minds of the Ak-Baba are believed to be connected directly with that of the Shadow Lords.

At first, these birds were called dragon birds. Later, when the people of the coast saw them, they became known as the seven Ak-Baba, for they resembled fearsome birds of that name seen by sailors in distant ports.
But the seven were plainly not wild birds. They were far larger than the birds the sailors had seen. They had teeth and spines, and a foul odour hung about them. They had been bred to kill and seemed to obey orders no one else could hear, as if their minds were linked with the mind of their master beyond the mountains.

The minds of the Ak-Baba seem to be linked directly to the Shadow Lords, as they do its will without spoken command.

And, most important, their minds appear to be linked to that of the Shadow Lord, for they do his will without spoken command. Our conclusions must be that they have been altered, or bred, to suit the Shadow Lord’s purposes.

Even natural Ak-Baba can live for a thousand years, but Shadowlands Ak-Baba have been modified to be more dangerous and vicious.

Shadowlands Ak-Baba may well be able to live 1,000 years, as their foreign cousins are said to do, but they are far larger and more ferocious-looking. Unlike true Ak-Baba, they have teeth as well as tearing beaks & they have spines on their backs, necks & heads. They have clearly been trained to kill.

The Ak-Baba are described as moving at incredible speeds.

They floundered forward a few steps, but all of them knew it was no
use. The Ak-Baba was flying with incredible speed. It would be upon them long before they could reach safety.
Already it could see the smoke of the burning city. When it saw three ragged strangers escaping from the plain it would know at once that they were enemies of the Shadow Lord.

The Ak-Baba that delived the Opal to the City of the Rats on the morning that the Shadow Lord invaded (meaning that the Ak-Baba are fast enough to fly from Del to the middle of Deltora in less than a morning).

Barda shrugged. “The City of the Rats has an evil reputation, and an Ak-Baba was seen in the skies above it on the morning the Shadow Lord invaded. We can be almost sure that one of the Belt’s gems has been hidden there.”

The Ak-Baba sweep down upon and attack the armies of the Seven Tribes.

The Ak-Baba swooped, snatching and tearing at screaming soldiers on the plain, then soaring back into the air with dripping beaks and talons, screeching in triumph.

I have been called mad for saying so, but it is not beyond belief that these individuals are in fact the very same Ak-Baba that ravaged Adin's army in the final battle against the Shadow Lord's hordes.

Flaming arrows are a bother to the Ak-Baba, but only because they are on fire, as the arrows by themselves are not enough to pierce their scaly hides.

Ak-Baba screeched with rage as the flaming arrows reached their marks. The arrows could not pierce the monstrous birds’ scaly hides. But the flames licked at their wings, and their feathers began to smoke. As one, they charged the city, intent on destroying the puny archers who had dared to attack them.

An Ak-Baba of the Shadowlands reaches less than a quarter of the size of a dragon, and can easily swoop up a grown human.

Though they are less than a quarter of an average dragon in size’,they are quite powerful enough to snatch an adult human from the
ground.

A group of Ak-Baba are capable of fighting dragons and even killing them. It's also brought up that no weapons were able to harm them (outside fire).

The people of the north fought valiantly. The dragons of the north fought also, battling the Ak-Baba and cutting great swathes through the army, swooping from the air with fire gusting from their jaws.
The Ak-Baba worked as a pack, slaughtering dragons where they could, fleeing back to the mountains and safety when the dragons were too many to defeat. They were wily, and no weapon seemed to harm them.

Then a thunderous roar split the air, and a glittering dragon swept over the river. Its scales gleamed with every colour of the rainbow. Its vast wings blocked the sun. The Gnomes on the walls and the fighters on the ground all yelled in terror. But the dragon had no interest in the city or the plain just now.
Belching fire, it challenged the Ak-Baba, the invaders of its skies. Instantly, the Ak-Baba wheeled and flung themselves at the dragon, attacking it on all sides, like a pack of ravenous wolves.

Infact, it's the Ak-Baba who are believed to be responsible for the near-extinction of Deltora's dragons, as the foul birds teamed up against them; infact (outside the Battle of Deltora were the Belt of Deltora pushed back the Shadow Lord and saved the Opal Dragon) there are no recorded cases of a dragon killing an Ak-Baba (at least not before Lief's time).

No weapon has yet proved successful against them. Even the mighty winged Dragons of old could not defeat them. Several eye witness reports of terrible sky battles between single Dragons and up to five of the Seven Ak-Baba are included in The Deltora Annals. The fights raged for days, but always the Dragon was at last destroyed. It is no doubt the Seven Ak-Baba are responsible for the gradual decline in Deltoran Dragon numbers, and their present [Believed] extinction [see Dragons, p. 46].

 

[Stocking Anarchy]

Grey Guards are the standard foot soldiers of the Shadow Lords armies. Although they look like humans, they are actually inhuman brutish monsters created by the Shadow Lord, who don't feel the same emotions humans do, relishing in cruelty and spite.

Grey Guards, slavish servants of the Shadow Lord, appear human, but are monsters in the truest sense. Created by their master to enforce his evil will, they lack all normal human emotions, relishing cruelty and destruction above all else.

Grey Guards posses great physical strength, as well as speed & endurance. They have keen sight and hearing, and frequently hunt by their sense of smell.

They have great physical strength, are capable of enormous speed and endurance, have keen sight and hearing, and frequently hunt by scent.

Lief skidded to a stop as two Grey Guards turned a corner in front of him and began pacing in his direction. They were talking and had not yet heard him, seen him, or caught his scent. But when they did ...

“Be silent!” hissed Jasmine. “The Guards will hear you! As it is, they may catch our scent at any time.”

They began to walk, Kree fluttering ahead of them. Soon they found a tiny stream which had been swelled by the rain. They plunged into it and splashed along its bed for as long as they could, hoping that the water would disguise their scent.
All of them felt bruised and ill and longed to rest. But the thought of the Grey Guards following them like evil tracking dogs drove them on.

Grey Guards can run for days and nights without rest.

But Lief knew this could not last. Already, he was panting. Weakened from his ordeal in the chasm, he did not have the strength he needed to outrun the enemy. Grey Guards could run for days and nights without rest, and could smell out their prey wherever it was hiding.

Grey Guards don't age, but instead live for seven years and then weaken and die. When their fail date arrives, they return to the Shadowlands and are replaced by an identical pod with the same name (Grey Guards work in pods of ten identical brothers).

In ancient days Grey Guards, then rarely seen in Deltora, were thought to be immortal. It is now known that, though they do not age visibly, they suddenly weaken and die after seven years. The mistaken belief in their immortality arose because when the members of any one pod near their “fail date” (as the seven-year limit is known), they are recalled to the Shadowlands and replaced by a fresh set of ten bearing the same pod name, and with exactly the same appearance.

The primary weapon of the Grey Guards are blisters, which contain the poison of the great toad Gellick.

Their chief weapons are leather slings with which they hurl egg- shaped missiles known as “blisters.” Blisters burst on contact, releasing a burning poison that causes agonizing death.

Grey Guards can throw blisters with deadly accuracy, even in the darkness.

Each Guard carried a sling and a supply of what the people of Del called “blisters.” The blisters were silver eggs filled with burning poison. They burst on contact with a target and the Guards could hurl them with deadly strength and accuracy, even in darkness. Lief had seen enough blister victims fall, writhing in agony, to know that he did not want to risk the same fate.

After Gellick was vanquished and the Shadow Lord was banished from Deltora, Grey Guards began using a new weapon called sparking rods. As their name suggests, these are used to electrocute enemies and prisoners.

It’s not going to go away!’ shouted a voice from the other side of the door. ‘Call the Perns!’
‘No! We can handle it on our own!’ another voice objected. ‘We have the new sparking rods, haven’t we? Now’s our chance to use them!’

Time to go, scum!’ jeered one of the Guards. He approached the cage and jabbed a heavy stick through the bars. There was a shower of sparks, and the companions heard Pi-Ban groan and fall heavily.
The Guards bellowed with laughter.

The Bak Clan use their Sparking Rods to knock Lief and his friends unconscious.

Emlis, suddenly exposed, rolled in an agony of terror and fell. He hit the ground and lay still. Lief, Barda and Jasmine struggled to rise, to draw their weapons, but they had no chance. The Guards recovered from their shock in an instant. The sparking rods thrashed down, down…
Lief saw Jasmine crumple and fall back, Kree with her. He saw Barda hit once, twice. Then he himself felt a fiery jolt on the back of his neck. Agony shot through him. Then all was darkness.

Sparking rods can leave burns.

Lief turned. Barda was behind him, looking over his head into the Arena. The big man’s eyes were deeply shadowed. A great red burn marked his brow where a sparking rod had struck him.

 

[Stocking Anarchy]

Vraal are lizard-like creatures created by the Shadow Lord for the sole purpose of fighting, both in war and for entertainment. They are the size of a human, but with far more muscles, and have deadly claws and long fangs. Instead of feet they posses hooves.

Lief’s blood ran cold as he grabbed for his sword. The Vraal’s snakelike scales, dull green striped with yellow, shone evilly in the weak forest light. It was as tall as Barda and twice as wide, with hulking, bowed shoulders, a lashing tail, and powerful arms that ended in claws like curved knives. But the most horrible thing about it was that it seemed to have no face — just a lumpy, scaly mass of flesh, with no eyes, nose, or mouth.
Then it roared. The mass seemed to split in half like an exploding fruit as its jaws gaped red. At the same moment its eyes became visible — burning orange slits glaring through protective ridges and folds. It leaped from the stream, landing on the bank in a single movement.
Now Lief could see that instead of feet it had cloven hoofs that dug deeply into the soft, damp earth. They seemed too delicate to support such a huge body, but as it roared again and sprang forward, Lief put this thought out of his mind.
The creature was a killing machine. That was clear as day. It took no notice of the thunder that rumbled above the trees. Its evil eyes were fixed on Prin.

Vraal do not fear pain or death, and exist only to fight and kill any creature that is not another vraal.

The Vraal did not fear pain, did not fear death. Its mind was not fitted for such thoughts, or indeed any thoughts but one — that any creatures not of its own species were enemies, to be fought and defeated. In the Shadow Arena or here — it did not matter.

Vraals are highly intelligent, but only in the arts of combat.

According to Ranesh, Sha-Ban, and others who have heard Grey Guards talking, Vraal live only to fight and destroy, and are highly intelligent in the ways of battle, though in nothing else.

A vraal which attacks Lief, Barda & Jasmine is described as moving like lightning.

Barda stood his ground. He knew that to turn, to step aside, to show any fear at all, would be fatal. Behind him, Lief and Jasmine glanced at each other. The creature moved like lightning. The remaining blisters, which were in Jasmine’s keeping, were useless while Barda stood between her and the enemy. The only hope was for her to creep to one side without being seen.

Without warning, the Vraal lashed out. Barda’s sword flew up in defense and the creature’s claws rang against the shining steel. Barda twisted and lunged, and this time the Vraal defended, hitting the flat of the sword with such a mighty thump that Barda staggered.

Dodging arrows is easy to a vraal.

It had missed using its skills. It had missed the joy of battle and the screams of defeated enemies. Snatching squealing, wriggling gnomes from the stream as they bent to drink was no sport. Dodging arrows was too easy. But this — this warmed its cold blood.

The Vraal is able to effortlessly beat back Lief & Barda's attacks.

Growling, it sprang at the two swords, beating them away effortlessly, driving the two weaklings who held them back, and back. Twice the weapons pierced its armoured skin. It cared nothing for that. It cared nothing for the black bird that dived at its head, snapping with sharp beak then wheeling to dive again.

Even the Grey Guards are nervous about Vraal (as a punishment for Grey Guards who fail in their duties are to end up as gladiators fighting Vraal themselves in the Shadow Arena).

Be careful, you fool!” roared Carn 8. “How many times do you have to be told? Any broken bones Brightly didn’t put in her report and we’re in the Arena ourselves! Do you want to end your days in gladiators’ leather, fighting a Vraal? Get him under the canopy, and be quick about it!”

Vraal think of Grey Guards as giving 'reasonable sport' (but taste bad).

Freedom to prey on the man-beasts who ate scuttling beetles, the ragged slaves who dug in the holes in the earth and the grey masters who tasted bad, but who gave reasonable sport before they sank screaming under claws and teeth.

A vraal's repeated attacks against a metal door causes it to bulge inwards.

Lief looked ahead. Jasmine was standing in front of a metal door in the Factory wall. She was holding it open. Barda and Emlis were
already hurrying inside.
With a roar the vraal sprang. Before it had hit the ground Lief was pounding towards the door. He reached it, shoved Jasmine inside, leaped after her and swung the door shut just as the vraal crashed against it.
The companions stood panting, their backs to the door, as the beast threw itself against the metal, hissing and roaring.

He realised that Jasmine was tugging at his arm. Whispering to him urgently. Something about hiding. About—
There was a mighty crash, and the metal of the door bulged inward as the vraal thudded against it once more.

‘The door’s bent. Something’s been trying to get in. A gang of Wild Ones, no doubt. Get a look, Bak 3.’
There was the sound of the metal door unlatching. Then there was a yell and a thundering crash as the door was slammed shut again.
‘Vraal!’ several voices shouted amid the shuddering thumps and bangs of the beast attacking the door again.

This Vrael then goes on to fight an entire pod of Grey Guards (who to be fair, are a week past their experation date), killing three and chasing a fourth into the wastelands.

‘Faith. How strange that you should mention that name,’ the gnome murmured at last. ‘I heard it for the first time only a short time ago, when Guards brought me up here. They were Baks, and in worse tempers than usual. Three of their pod had just been slaughtered by a vraal, which was pursuing a fourth into the desert. They had been ordered to abandon him in order to escort me. I told them I was pleased to hear it. That earned me a bruise or two.’

 

[Stocking Anarchy]

Grippers are a kind of deadly carnivorous plant that grow in Jalis Territory. They first appear as any normal weed, but when stepped on will reveal a terrifying toothy maw. The grippers will inject a venom which causes the blood to flow freely. If no one comes to the rescue, the gripper will then drag its prey underground to digest them.

A Gripper looks like a harmless weed, but ifyou step on it the leaves will instantly spring apart & your foot will plunge deep into the plant’s gaping central “throat.” The throat is lined with fangs that point downward, digging deep into the flesh as the Gripper’s victim
struggles to get free. The fangs also inject a fluid that makes blood flow very freely.
Pain & blood loss will normally cause a Gripper’s victim to lose consciousness in a very few minutes. lf no one comes to the rescue, the gripper will then slowly drag its victim into the ground for digestion.

Keeping together under the shelter of Lief’s cloak, the companions began scrambling forward. But almost at once Barda staggered, with a muffled cry of pain. At the same moment, Jasmine gasped and fell to her knees.
Lief whirled around, crouching to help them. But when he put down his left hand to brace himself, the ground gave way beneath it, and his hand was dragged down by something that bit and burned.
His hand had sunk into the center of one of the flat weeds. The center was widening, sucking at his arm, drawing it down ...
Wildly, Lief tore himself free. His hand was covered in blood. The center of the plant gaped like a huge, flabby-lipped mouth, flecked with red.
With horror, Lief looked down at the rows of vicious teeth lining the green throat that plunged deep into the earth.

Even if someone is saved by from a gripper, there is still a high chance of them dying from blood loss & infection. The only known treatment for a gripper bite is a gray paste called Gripper Salve. Such was almost the fate of Barda.

Victims of Gripper attack who are saved by companions still often die of blood loss & infection. The usual remedies for injury are of little use. The only way to treat Gripper bite is to smother the wounds with a gray paste the Jalis call “Gripper Salve.” You can buy it
throughout Diamond territory. All farmhouses keep a good supply. lt smells & looks vile, but is effective.

Grippers will not just passively pull down, but actively bite at their victims.

From a distance they look like any other weed, but when stepped or leaned upon, their leaves part to reveal a fang-lined central "throat” that traps animal and human limbs. When a foot or hand has plunged into a Gripper’s "throat,” it is injected with a fluid that causes blood to flow freely. The running blood excites the Gripper even further, making it bite and tear the flesh.

Although grippers are mostly noted to eat their prey slowly, at least one story tells of a gripper victim being devoured in seconds; one of the seven 'goblins' who came to Deltora thought the plant was edible, but ended up being sucked screaming into the gripper and swallowed whole in moments.

One day, at dawn, they saw a bright green field beside the road. Faint with hunger, the smaller of the two goblins staggered into the field.
He had hoped to eat of the flat, broad-leaved plants growing there. Instead, the plants ate him. The moment he touched one, jaws opened in its centre and his arm was swallowed whole. In seconds he was sucked, screaming, into the plant’s gaping throat, and was gone.

 

[Stocking Anarchy]

The Pirran Pipe is a powerful artifact from the land of Pirra, the country that existed to the North of Deltora before it was cruelly transformed into the Shadowlands. The playing of the Pipe every day protected the lands from the forces of darkness.

Long, long ago, beyond the mountains, there was a green land called Pirra, where the breezes breathed magic. Jealous shadows lurked on Pirra’s borders, but the land was protected by a mysterious Pipe, which played notes of such beauty that no evil could take root within sound of its voice.

The Shadow Lord (when he was still a human) was weakened by the playing of the Pipe.

A man in a hooded cloak stepped forward. He was tall, but bent with weakness, as though the long day and night of music had been almost beyond his endurance. Each section of the crowd thought that he was one of its own, for he had spent time with all three, urging its members to hold firm.

With the Pipe divided as with its people, the Shadow Lord could then invade Pirra and corrupt it.

And so tired, so angry had the people become that they agreed. They gave Plume the mouthpiece of the Pipe, Auron the middle stem, and Keras
the end piece. Then, because they still had bad feelings for one another, the three groups went their separate ways, each group following its own favourite.
The hooded man rubbed his hands, well satisfied, and slipped away like a shadow before the rising of the sun.
The dawn broke with no sound of music and the long day passed in silence, for the three rival groups were far apart, and no one piece of the Pirran Pipe could play alone.
Shadows crept into Pirra. Trees withered in their shade, and flowers wilted. Little by little the shadows swallowed up the green fields, the pleasant villages, while every moment the dread power cloaked within them grew stronger.
Too late, the three groups realised their danger. Shadows now rolled dark between them. They could not reach one another to make the magic Pipe whole. And at last, seeing that their land was lost, they were forced to use the last of their magic to escape and save themselves.
So it was that the green land of Pirra became the Shadowlands. Its people, still blaming one another for their ancient loss, dwell to this day on three separate islands in a strange and secret sea.
And the Pirran Pipe, forever divided, is heard no more.

The Pirran Pipe is the only artifact which the Shadow Lord is afraid of within the Shadowlands.

She sighed as Lief’s face fell. ‘I fear you must accept that there is nothing that would do so, Lief. According to legend, the only thing the Shadow Lord ever feared in his own domain was the music of the Pirran Pipe.’

The Pirrans went into the Secret Seas below Pirra & Deltora, and each formed into a tribe around the potential piper they supported; the Plumes, the Aurons and the Keras (though they are known to those in the surface world as 'goblins'). Even with each just having one piece of the pipe, the pipe still grants the Pirans great powers (which they can use even if they don't posses the Pipe piece itself), which is bestowed onto the leader of each tribe, the Piper. For example, the Pirran tribes are able to control the amount of light that comes from the ceiling.

‘The Fear lives underground, so no doubt it hunts by touch, hearing, or even smell, rather than by sight,’ said Jasmine. ‘But we need to see. We need light.’
Lief glanced over his shoulder to the shore. Nols and Worron were still in argument. The crowd was hesitating, looking nervously towards the cave.
‘If Nols fails to convince the people to join her, there will be no light,’ he said. ‘We cannot depend upon it.’

Nols bowed. ‘Our debt to him, and to you, can never be repaid. We have little enough to give, but whatever we have is yours. Boats for your journey. Food. Light, as far as we are able to supply it...’ She paused, waiting.

The Piper can also use their magic to telekinetically freeze multiple people in place, but this comes at the expense of having light to see.

With a roar, Barda felled the goblins closest to him and swung around, intent on pushing his way towards Azan and the swords. Lief sprang to help him. But before he had taken two steps, there was a brilliant ash and he was frozen to the spot.
At the same moment, the cavern was plunged into darkness. Trembling and blind, his arms and legs refusing to obey his will, Lief stood helpless while confusion reigned around him. The air was lled with cries and moans.
Slowly, very slowly, a little light returned—the faintest red glow, like the promise of sunrise.
Lief began to make out shapes and movement. Barda was standing rigidly nearby, as motionless as Lief was himself. The goblins who had been knocked to the ground were struggling to their feet, with others helping them.
‘Bind the creatures, and make haste!’ ordered a new voice. ‘I cannot hold them for long and keep the light also.’

Worron waited for a moment, then raised his voice again. ‘I will now release the Longhairs so that we can have more light,’ he said. ‘Hold them firmly.’

Stop!’ Worron shouted in rage. He raised his hand. There was a ash, the light dimmed, and Clef was struck motionless.

The power of the Piper is bestowed by the people of the tribe, who can also take that power away.

‘Free him, Worron,’ she said quietly. ‘Or we will take back the power we gave you.’
Worron bared his teeth. ‘You cannot—’
‘We can,’ said Nols. ‘We can, and we will.’

And so it was that Nols’ final words came to their ears loud and clear. Words that hit Lief and Barda like thunderbolts.
‘I withdraw my trust in you, Worron,’ Nols cried. ‘You are not t to lead the Plumes. You are not t to be Piper.’

The Piper of each island declares when day & night is.

Strange, high, echoing calls began to drift through the window, lling the room, growing louder every moment.
Penn turned around. Her face was shadowed with weariness and something more. Despair, perhaps.
‘Dawn is being sung by the Piper,’ she said. ‘The time of sleep is over. Not that any of us have had our proper sleep, this night.’

The power of the Piper of Auron created great dome around the island of Auron, with an illusion of lost Pirra within. Those who opposed were stripped of their ability to cast magic and thrown out. Nothing could penetrate this dome (not even the giant monstrous arachs who dwelt around it).

How the Rafts Came to Be​

When the three Pirran tribes ed their ancient land after the coming of the Shadow Lord, they found refuge on islands in an underground sea. The Isle of Auron was well separated from the enemy islands of “Plume and Keras. It was large, had natural water, and was covered by fast- growing fungus trees from which boats and dwellings could be made. When t by the magic of the people, the cavern in which it lay shone with every colour of the rainbow.
Some Aurons found a strange, wild beauty in the island and the shining caverns. But most saw only ugliness, and at once began creating illusions of the lost beauties of Pirra. After a time, they went further. They wove a great spell, creating a dome which covered the island, containing the magic and making the illusion complete.
But there were those who did not agree with what had been done. These Aurons, our ancestors, wanted to live in a world that was real, however strange, rather than to exist in a dream created by their own minds.

And so our ancestors were stripped of their magic and cast out as traitors. Eeran, the Piper of those days, swore that if they went in peace, so blood would not he spilled inside the dome, the caverns would always be lled with light. And our ancestors believed him, and left without a murmur.
They made rafts of driftwood lashed together with ropes of dried weed. They built mud houses, learned to live the life of the shining sea which was their home and were happy.
For many years, Eeran’s promise was kept. But then, not long after the coming of Doran, the bringer of fire, the light began, very slowly, to dim. Now, centuries later, our realm is as you see it.
The dome-dwellers continue to expel all things that threaten their idea of Beauty, including their dead. Thus they feed the creatures which breed around the dome. And those creatures are hunted by the Arach, those monsters of nightmare which once hid deep in caves, away from the light, hut now nest in the warmth and dimness of the dome sea.
The dome is protected fry the magic of the Aurons within it, and the stem of the Pirran Tipe. We, who are without magic, cannot penetrate it. Many have tried and died in the attempt.
We must all prepare for a time when the light is gone altogether. We must learn to find our way in dark water, and to know by touch the warning lines which must never he crossed. We must continue to save every scrap of wood, to mend the rafts cleverly, and to hate waste.
Then we will survive.

When Lief lands on the edge of the dome with the mouthpiece of the Pirran pipe, he along with his friends are transported to the middle of the island.

He was aware of nothing but sound. Sweet, pure music poured through him, possessed him. It was blind instinct that made him reach for Jasmine’s hand, clutch at Barda’s shoulder, as he began to slip through the haze, and the magic of the Pirran Pipe drew him in.

‘No wonder we are here, in the centre of the island instead of at the edge as we expected,’ Barda muttered.
‘The mouthpiece of the Pipe pulled us to where it wanted us to be.’

When the Pirran Pipe is complete, it transforms and becomes bigger and seems to glow, becoming more than the sum of its parts.

Stunned by the sudden silence, Lief stared at the magical object in his hands. It was shining with a subtle radiance, as though lit from within. Here, at last, was the Pirran Pipe—whole and perfect for the first time since the warring tribes of Pirra divided it and stilled its voice. And complete, it was transformed.
‘But, it has changed!’ Jasmine breathed in awe. ‘It glows! And surely it is bigger than it should be.’
It was true. The endpiece of the Pipe had been the smallest part of all, and should have added very little. But now, complete, the Pipe seemed far larger and stronger, far more strange, more beautiful, more thrilling than it had before. It was as though it was greater than the sum of its parts.

When Tirral plays the completed Pirran Pipe, the music is heard all throughout the Secret Seas, and even beyond to the sleeping golden dragon.

And so, for the first time since the world began, the pure notes of the Pirran Pipe rang out in the caverns of the secret sea, while the people of Keras listened, their rapt, upturned faces wet with tears.
The music caressed the rippling waters, echoed from the gleaming rock, echoing, echoing until the air itself seemed to quiver with its beauty and no walls could contain it.
It flowed into the Forbidden Way, where the leeches heard it, and cringed in the darkness. It sang in the opal sea, where the great eels raised their dripping heads from the water and swayed to the sound.
The Aurons building on their island looked up from their work, transfixed, as the sound drifted to their ears. Their Piper’s ancient face did not change, but his body trembled all over, as if shaken by an icy gale. And Penn, packing manuscripts in her little hut on the rafts, clasped her hands in joy and wonder.
The song of the Pipe echoed through the rainbow caverns where the mud grubs burrowed deep to escape it, and the sea moles leaped and played. It filled the Glimmer with its beauty and flowed on to the ruby sea, and Plume.
Nols, tending the grave of the warrior Glock, gave a cry when she heard it. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the shore where awed, silent people were wading knee-deep, waist-deep, into the scarlet water, gazing towards the sound.
The music floated on, faint and haunting, till it reached the furthest corner of the golden sea, where Clef and Azan, fishing in their tiny boat, dropped their nets and sat spellbound. Then the last, tiny shadow of sound rose high above their heads, through the topaz haze.
And carried by the cool, soft breeze, it stole into the golden dragon’s enchanted sleep, bringing with it soaring dreams of sunshine, great winds and high mountains, magic and vanished glory.

When the Pirran Pipe is played in the Shadowlands by Lief, he is able to temporarily push back the Shadow Lord, but with each play of the Pipe he gets weaker.

Then he had the Pipe to his lips. He blew. One pure, clear note.
The piercing sound rose and echoed around the walls of the Arena, and on to the mountains beyond.
And with the sound, the stream of worms halted. The worms thrashed, twisting and dying like leeches of the Forbidden Way exposed to the light.
The red smoke recoiled in a clap of thunder that shook the ground. The gale died, and the Ak-Baba lurched in the skies. The Ols lowered their grasping hands and stood, swaying. The beings on the tiers of seats bent and groaned. The vraals howled in their cages.

Again Lief had to draw breath. Again the red smoke writhed and lunged. Again it drew back as the Pipe sounded once more.
But the Enemy was gaining strength. Each time the Pipe repelled him, he drew back a little less. The seven Ak-Baba hovered around him, their unearthly cries mingling with the thunder. Within the smoke’s core, malicious eyes were gleaming.
How long could the Pipe hold the shadows back?

Emlis, who has had experience playing the songs of the Pipe, is able to push back the red smoke of the Shadowlord, and his song is heard back in the Secret Seas underground.

Then Emlis was beside Lief, taking the Pipe from Lief’s hand. Emlis was playing. And for the first time in countless centuries, the land that had once been Pirra heard the true song of the Pirran Pipe.
For as Ak-Baba shrieked and the red smoke shrank back into the boiling sky, as the Ols crouched, moaning, and the prisoners listened in awe, Emlis played like the Pipers of old. Emlis played on the Pirran Pipe the music of his own heart.
The exquisite sound filled the Arena, echoed from the mountains, rang on the the Factory walls and rolled on over the parched plain. In it was mourning for ancient beauties lost, anger at evil that seeks only to rule and destroy, fear for what might be. And then, a deep longing for home.
Not Pirra, despoiled, transformed and gone forever. But the only home Emlis knew.
A home where deep waters rippled and soft sands drifted on peaceful shores. A place where the light was soft and cool, and the gentle, lapping sound of water filled the air. A place missed, and ached for.
Lief stood, transfixed. His heart seemed to be breaking as the music rose, pleading for rescue, crying for release.
Then…the Arena disappeared.
Cold, freezing cold. Rushing darkness…
And the next instant Lief was struggling in black, icy water, the panicking cries of thousands ringing in his ears.
What had happened? What new sorcery was this?
‘Jasmine!’ he screamed.
‘Here!’ Barda bobbed up beside him, supporting Jasmine and PiBan. Lief took Jasmine from him, held her head above the water, felt
the rush of Kree’s wings.
‘My music!’ Emlis swam like an eel towards them. ‘My people heard it! They brought us home! The Shadow Lord will never know
what became of us!’

Penn nodded. ‘We on Auron heard the Pipe. Its song made us remember that once our people were one. We set out to see for ourselves, at last, the others of our kind, and to find out what had happened to you. At the Forbidden Way we met the Plumes, who had travelled north for the same reason. They did not seem as savage as we had feared. And so together we called to the Kerons, bidding them to light the tunnel, and allow us entry to their territory.’
‘And Tirral agreed?’ asked Barda disbelievingly.
Penn smiled. ‘After a time,’ she said placidly. ‘It seems that, like us, she and her people had been giving thought to the wisdom of keeping up old rivalries in times of trouble. We learned that her son had gone with you to the Shadowlands. Then, together, we all waited for the sound that would tell us that he, and you—and the Pipe—were ready to return. Together, at last, we heard it, and together we brought you back.’