Any redeeming qualities in the Octopus Overlords?

[MagisterCultuum]

The Drown may be Thralls, but that doesn't mean Thralls are all Drowns. Many of them may still be very much alive.

The fact that Saverous was freed from the control of the Burnt Priest and seems very much alive when Pontif Elmin has to teach him how to eat again or when he becomes a companion of Valin Phanuel seem to indicate that this thrall was not undead.

 

[Nikis-Knight]

The Drown may be Thralls, but that doesn't mean Thralls are all Drowns

Perhaps; can you find another use of the word thrall to support that? It's also possible that the spirit of a former thrall can be returned to their body after their undeath in drowning.

 

[MagisterCultuum]

This is the only mention of a Thrull apart from Saverous:

Fear has no place in a dwarf's heart, and many dwarves consider Maros, who was to be their greatest champion, their greatest dissapointment. His father was the Umberguard, the Keeper of Keys, Micah, the King of Stone. He was never beaten in battle, and his honor remained untarnished until the day he died.

But he did die. The Underdark is a cruel place and only the most cruel can hope to survive there. For centuries the hold of the dwarves had been surrounded by wild cities of deep goblins. Together they could have overrun the dwarves, but they were never coordinated enough to launch any serious attack. Then one day they came flooding through the gates. The dwarves stood to defend their hold; they slaughtered hundreds of goblins, many of which didn't even defend themselves. They weren't attacking, they were running.

The following day, a demon approached the dwarven city gates. Flush and crooked, the demon picked at the goblin corpses still lying outside the city. When it finally hailed the city, it offered a deal: instead of a war between the demons and dwarves, they should settle it with honor. A battle between their champions, if the demons win, the dwarves abandon their city; if the dwarves win, then the demons will leave them be.

Micah accepted and a thrull was brought forward to fight on the demons' behalf. The thrull looked to have once been a Svartalfar, now possessed by something darker. Unwilling to leave the city vulnerable, a small sidegate was opened and the thrull entered, bringing with it only a ill-fitting chain shirt and thin sword. The fight was brief and fierce, but by the end King Micah was again victorious. The Thrull had managed only a few minor cuts before falling under Micah's powerful hammer.

That night Micah died, for the thrull blade had been poisoned. Maros's uncle was crowned King, and he made another deal with the demons. He claimed Micah was a hero, that the demons had been underhanded, but they must now honor their pact: they had lost the deal and they must leave the dwarves be because of it. And that seemed to be what they did.

But Maros didn't believe it. He warned his people about the demons' treachery, told them that the demons must be fought not compromised with, that his Uncle wasn't a dwarven hero, he was a pawn of the demons. Then he left the underdark and enlisted in the Order.

He was supposed to be king one day; it is said that the Umberguard is to be the champion of Kilmorph when all else has fallen. It is a birthright passed from father to son. Maros is the last of the line, and he will have no children. If there truly is such as a thing as the Umberguard, it dies with him.

This is a mention of Thralls apart from Overlords pedia entry. Here it just seems to mean slave without the necessity of arcane or divine forces behind it:

"We need to find out more about him."

"Need to find out more, are we the yellow skirts now? Why do you obsess about knowledge? It's that kind of talk that makes the civilized..." Charadon practically spat the word "...people soft. It makes you soft as well."

Mahala ignored him. Blustering, headstrong fool... "The man could be a fraud, or he could be a very real threat – or an ally. We need certainty, or as much as can be had. If the Illians are on the rise..."

She had hoped he would see sense for once, but their discussion deteriorated, as usual. Damned, stupid, singleminded, vicious bastard. For the Shamans to reawaken this monster... Mahala took a deep breath and tried again to argue her point.

"All your pointless wars will do is make sure our enemies get organized and decide that we are better off extinct!"

"Hah! All you want to do is weaken us and then hand us over to our enemies, to be put in pens like sheep and cows! Better to die as warriors than live as thralls!"

"Sheep and c... Argh! I am thinking of our CHILDREN, while all you think of is your thirst for BLOOD!"

"If I didn't watch you every second, I'm sure you would sneak up and plant a knife in my back – then you'd be rid of the last defender of Doviello strength!" The insult was clear and damning. Killing an opponent in any other way than in public, gory, single combat, was perhaps the most cowardly thing the Doviello could think of.

"I would never shame myself like that – but I wish to Camulos someone WOULD challenge you! You are well past your prime anyway! It's about time the pack had a new leader, grey hair. Bringing you back was a mistake."

She could see that struck home. She knew it would. Charadon's face turned deep purple with unfettered rage.

"You rodent! How dare you! You ungrateful little sheep's daughter! It is not too late to make you into mothers meat, weakling! You will listen to your pack leader!"

"You are not my pack leader! I built the Doviello alone with my bare hands! After your failed age of ice, they had nothing but me. The Doviello is my pack!" Mahala had enough. She turned to leave, but Charadon grabbed her from behind, wrapped his arms around her waist, held her tight and brought his head to the level of hers.

Mahala could smell the stench of rotting meat and bad teeth on Charadon's breath as he panted in her ear: "Your mind is weak, your words are foolish, but your body has... potential. We would have strong cubs, leaders. As long as they had my good blood in them..." There was an undertone to his statement, an ill-controlled growl of anticipation and desire, anger turned to lust.

She snarled, twisted, and brought her knife, concealed in the folds of her sleeve, up along his jugular. She drew blood, a hairline running along his neck.

Undeterred, Charadon flashed her a lecherous grin, and backed away from her. As he left the hall, his parting words were "Not yet, I see." That lascivious dog, Mahala thought uncharitably, as her chest heaved and fell, the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

It didn't really matter what Charadon decided, she would be conducting her own investigations anyway. At this stage, it looked like a very good idea to go away for a while.

She closed her eyes and once again saw the figure from her dream. Handsome, but... effeminate, foppish, with some ridiculous roguish affectations and a thin, pointy sword that looked like it was only good for skewering meat. He did not seem like a warrior, let alone a hero or someone she could trust. But he must be important. Why else would such a figure haunt her sleep?[PARAGRAPH:1]After waiting for Charadon to lumber out and meet his henchmen, Mahala slipped out the back. Her mount was waiting, along with a handful of her most trusted and capable friends and bodyguards. One of them, a huntress named Ciciel, approached her.[PARAGRAPH:1]"We are ready. Did you get any more help?"[PARAGRAPH:1]"We will make do with what we've got. That man is impossible to reason with. Camulos, he is impossible to even speak to! He tried to mate with me, again! If I could, I would have every Shaman who helped recall that lunatic from Camulos' vault put to death."

"The elders seem to think it was good. A leader in a time of need, with so many young beastmen dying on failed raids..."

"No time of need! It was sad to be weakened like that, it was dark times to be sure, but it was a necessary cull of the headstrong." Mahala did not mention that occasionally the raids had failed on purpose. Not many people knew that, and her continued good health depended on her keeping it that way: "We would have emerged much more lethal and efficient afterwards, but now, now..."

Mahala gave her stubborn horse a sharp jab in the belly, forcing him to exhale the air he was holding on to. Then she pulled the saddle strap tight.

"Now this ghost from the past thinks it is a good idea to use the chaos in the deadlands to raid everyone else with abandon, and hang everything else. It is folly either way – if they defeat him, they're coming for us, but if the sorcerer wins, we will not escape either."

Mahala peered around the corner of the great hall. She could just see Charadon busily inspecting his beloved War Machine. It was the perfect device for Charadon, brutal and direct. No wonder he loved it so much. She busied herself with her own preparations.

"Well, at least one of us has some common sense and a will to think beyond the tip of her sword."

Charadon would probably just be glad to be rid of her, so he could continue his mad race to drown the Doviello in blood. But she was bringing one man he was sure to miss...

"Ciciel, is Lucien here yet?"

 

[Nikis-Knight]

Thanks, for some reason my searching was failing. So it seems thrulls are possessed, or under demon control at least, in each usage of two usages, assuming it is different from thrall and not just a difference in writer. I guess it would be most accurate to call Saverous a Stygian or Eidolon, then, but that doesn't preclude being drown at one point.
Anyway, it's vague enough in canon that my initial usage was not really all that incomprehensible, especially for an admittedly stupid joke that needed a named drown, which is hard to find if I exclude edge cases.

 

[MagisterCultuum]

Well, I think it would preclude him being a drown unless he was recaptured by the priests of the Overlords after serving Valin. You don't come back from the (un)dead that easily, and he was still very much alive after the Burnt Priest's death.


Muirin may have been a better choice for the joke.

 

[Nikis-Knight]

Now how was I supposed to know about some character in a scenario?

 

[Kael]

Now how was I supposed to know about some character in a scenario?

 

[KillerClowns]

I just remembered something, on the subject of drowning being an over-long baptism. While the Drown themselves are clearly undead, I'm wondering if the Overlords' followers might have a ritual for their priests similar to the baptism rites of the Drowned God (from a Song of Ice and Fire), which consists of basically nearly drowning and resuscitating someone. (I had to re-read the passage to confirm that, indeed, that was what was being done... my first thought was "holy . .. .. .. ., did he just make a drown?" Since a Song of Ice and Fire uses magic only slightly more often than the real world uses nuclear weapons, this seemed improbable.)

 

[Nikis-Knight]

Actually, OO was the first thing to pop into my mind when I read that book as well.
According to the zealot entry:

I have not been able to discern how the Cultists choose their zealots. Sometimes it is a vagrant, sometimes the son or daughter of a noble, and everyone in between seems eligible. He is abducted and taken to temple, usually on the night of the full moon. The hands and feet are bound. Sleep is induced. Some sects use various herbal concoctions; this one simply strangled the man until he passed out. He is laid in a shallow pool, submerged partially in sea water. All night the Cultists gather around, listening for anything he might say in this sleep. This becomes the zealots new name. It is etched onto a clay jar, which is filled with sea water. I observed the names on some of these. "The Leviathan Trembles But Does Not Awaken," read one. "Pour the Blood of the Slaves Into the Styx," another. The victim tonight seemed to hear nothing, for he was silent as he slept, nearly until dawn. Should this be the case, the victim is drowned and serves in the undead army of the Overlords. Fortunately for this man, or perhaps not, he at last called out screaming, "The distant one has watching eyes!" The Cultists nodded to each other and pulled the man from the water. When he saw them holding him, he cringed. They spoke not to him, but dragged him to the back of the temple. I was unable to follow, but observed the Zealot days later in sea colored robes. He had bloodshot eyes, and moved through the crowd in the town marketplace engaged in a constant dialogue with himself. From chapter 7 of Reflections on the State Cults, by Elder Methyl of the Luonnatar.

I'd expect quite a few temples start with process with a good partial drowning.

 

[Luckmann]

Well, I think it would preclude him being a drown unless he was recaptured by the priests of the Overlords after serving Valin. You don't come back from the (un)dead that easily, and he was still very much alive after the Burnt Priest's death.

Muirin may have been a better choice for the joke.

Well, after that, it's not funny anymore, now innit?