Rel
Liquid Awesome
As always, I first want to thank Old One who gave me permission and encouragement to take his campaign material and run with it. All of the folks in our game group, myself especially, owe him a huge thanks for a lot of the fun we’ve had over the last few years. Plus, he’s just a plain nice guy. If you get a chance to meet him and buy him a beer sometime, you should. He likes Guinness.
You can find Rel's Faded Glory II (with links to the original story) here:Rel's Faded Glory II
And now our story resumes…
Home
Children played their games atop Kyndalyn’s Watch. The rules of their games remained the same: Whoever made up the story that captured the attention of most of his peers got to tell it his way. The characters in that story were different.
Many of the adults were surprised at how little time it took for the kids to change their games from being “Legionnaires defending against the savage Fodor Barbarians” to “The Glynden Watch fighting the Orcish Horde” or “The Defenders of Glynden smashing the Army of the Dead”. But it shouldn’t have surprised them. Children always adapt quickly.
One thing that changed about the games was that nobody wanted to be the bad guys anymore. It was one thing to pretend to be a savage Corritani warrior, fruitlessly assaulting the walls of Glynden. It was quite another to place oneself in the role of the inhuman Orcs or the unfathomable walking dead. For now, a nearby thicket of briars and bushes was portraying the armies of the evil foes of Glynden. And the children were winning. If those bushes survived another heroic charge accompanied by a barrage of thrown stones and the beating of stout sticks acting in place of swords, it would be just the most recent in the series of miracles that had benefited Glynden.
A couple of miles off to the north, in the woods that lay north of town, lived a man who may have disapproved somewhat of the rough treatment of those bushes. But Speaks With Stone wasn’t home right now. He had flown west to check on matters among the tribes across the Fodor and visit his sister, Tarsheeva and her employer, the merchant-wizard, Tadius Silvanus.
Which was not to say that the woods he called home were left untended. The “Stone Wood” as the folk of Glynden were now calling it had a group of new guardians that assured that it would be given a great deal of respect from now on. Dotted throughout the woods were short, thick, stone pillars that bore strange markings on them. But far stranger still were the oaks that one might find had moved overnight or the wolves who might now ask one what business one had in the Stone Wood in unaccented Imperial. Even if he were not somewhat of a local hero, the simple people of the Lost Northern Provinces would have had ample reason to respect the forest that he called home.
So much respect in fact that most had flatly refused to escort a group of strangers there who had recently arrived in town seeking the Druid. The group that had gathered in town was an esoteric bunch but all had a bearing that showed they were men of experience in their respective fields. They also had an air of impatience about them and they spent their time anxiously pacing the floor of Nan’s Tavern, often standing at the window and hoping that the reclusive Speaks With Stone would soon make an appearance. Finally he did.
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Speaks landed in his grove and greeted his four legged friends. Jitterbug and Snuff bounded out of their cave as Whisper quietly slinked back into the grove from where she had been on watch a bit closer to town. The wolves all began to talk at once, not having any of the manners about not interrupting one another that humans did. Speaks was hard pressed to follow all of what they had to tell him about what had transpired during his absence but it was clear that some people were looking for him and they awaited him in Glynden.
He interrupted them long enough to ask a question: “Did any of these people look like the Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert?”
They answered in unison: “No.” Upon which point they went back to their unending stream of questions, comments and exclamations. Speaks began to wonder if he would someday regret the solitude he had given up the day he began to Awaken these friends of his.
Their chatter came to a sudden stop when they all began to sniff the air with great interest. Snuff laid his ears back momentarily as a large form crept up to the edge of the grove.
“Scipio!” called Speaks as he ran over to greet the animal companion that he had left behind while on his trip to the west. He embraced the enormous head of the Dire Mountain Lion who let out a rumbling purr as he lifted Speaks off the ground. Nearly losing his balance, Speaks steadied himself by reaching below to grab the pair of huge fangs that made his companion look so fearsome. Scipio set the Druid down and got a few more scratches behind the ears.
“Come on, Scipio, we’re going to town.”
NEXT: A Fellowship Formed
You can find Rel's Faded Glory II (with links to the original story) here:Rel's Faded Glory II
And now our story resumes…
Home
Children played their games atop Kyndalyn’s Watch. The rules of their games remained the same: Whoever made up the story that captured the attention of most of his peers got to tell it his way. The characters in that story were different.
Many of the adults were surprised at how little time it took for the kids to change their games from being “Legionnaires defending against the savage Fodor Barbarians” to “The Glynden Watch fighting the Orcish Horde” or “The Defenders of Glynden smashing the Army of the Dead”. But it shouldn’t have surprised them. Children always adapt quickly.
One thing that changed about the games was that nobody wanted to be the bad guys anymore. It was one thing to pretend to be a savage Corritani warrior, fruitlessly assaulting the walls of Glynden. It was quite another to place oneself in the role of the inhuman Orcs or the unfathomable walking dead. For now, a nearby thicket of briars and bushes was portraying the armies of the evil foes of Glynden. And the children were winning. If those bushes survived another heroic charge accompanied by a barrage of thrown stones and the beating of stout sticks acting in place of swords, it would be just the most recent in the series of miracles that had benefited Glynden.
A couple of miles off to the north, in the woods that lay north of town, lived a man who may have disapproved somewhat of the rough treatment of those bushes. But Speaks With Stone wasn’t home right now. He had flown west to check on matters among the tribes across the Fodor and visit his sister, Tarsheeva and her employer, the merchant-wizard, Tadius Silvanus.
Which was not to say that the woods he called home were left untended. The “Stone Wood” as the folk of Glynden were now calling it had a group of new guardians that assured that it would be given a great deal of respect from now on. Dotted throughout the woods were short, thick, stone pillars that bore strange markings on them. But far stranger still were the oaks that one might find had moved overnight or the wolves who might now ask one what business one had in the Stone Wood in unaccented Imperial. Even if he were not somewhat of a local hero, the simple people of the Lost Northern Provinces would have had ample reason to respect the forest that he called home.
So much respect in fact that most had flatly refused to escort a group of strangers there who had recently arrived in town seeking the Druid. The group that had gathered in town was an esoteric bunch but all had a bearing that showed they were men of experience in their respective fields. They also had an air of impatience about them and they spent their time anxiously pacing the floor of Nan’s Tavern, often standing at the window and hoping that the reclusive Speaks With Stone would soon make an appearance. Finally he did.
----------------------------------------
Speaks landed in his grove and greeted his four legged friends. Jitterbug and Snuff bounded out of their cave as Whisper quietly slinked back into the grove from where she had been on watch a bit closer to town. The wolves all began to talk at once, not having any of the manners about not interrupting one another that humans did. Speaks was hard pressed to follow all of what they had to tell him about what had transpired during his absence but it was clear that some people were looking for him and they awaited him in Glynden.
He interrupted them long enough to ask a question: “Did any of these people look like the Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert?”
They answered in unison: “No.” Upon which point they went back to their unending stream of questions, comments and exclamations. Speaks began to wonder if he would someday regret the solitude he had given up the day he began to Awaken these friends of his.
Their chatter came to a sudden stop when they all began to sniff the air with great interest. Snuff laid his ears back momentarily as a large form crept up to the edge of the grove.
“Scipio!” called Speaks as he ran over to greet the animal companion that he had left behind while on his trip to the west. He embraced the enormous head of the Dire Mountain Lion who let out a rumbling purr as he lifted Speaks off the ground. Nearly losing his balance, Speaks steadied himself by reaching below to grab the pair of huge fangs that made his companion look so fearsome. Scipio set the Druid down and got a few more scratches behind the ears.
“Come on, Scipio, we’re going to town.”
NEXT: A Fellowship Formed
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