Welcome to the Halmae (updated 2/27/07)

Part the One-Hundred Seventy-Eighth
In which: they finally get the message.

Annika ducks out of her hiding place in Elsuki’s cabin and puts a web on the deck of the Tranquil Shore behind Eva, catching Aurelia, Ragya, and the dire wolverine.

Aurelia is completely stuck in the web, writhing and shouting in frustration. Ragya however, is still able to move and attempts to cast. Unfortunately for her, the wolverine five feet away from her is also still more or less free, and the instant she drops her defenses, the animal surges forward. A single swipe from its razor-sharp claws sends her to join her brother in the afterlife.

Kaykel’s eyes go wide as she sees Ragya hit the deck. As Kaykel is now the only crew member free aboard the Tranquil Shore, she defends it to the best of her ability and shoots Eva with her crossbow.

Without the benefit of concealment and the ability to aim at leisure, Eva is barely scratched.

(Note: Losing your sneak-attack damage is a b----.)

###

Eyes flashing in anger, Aurelia dispels Annika’s web, freeing herself at last. Her own airwalk spell is still active, and she climbs her invisible stair to a point some fifteen feet above the deck of The Tranquil Shore, safely out of the fray.

Unfortunately, once Aurelia has dispelled the web, the dire wolverine is also free to roam the deck at will. He snaps at Aurelia’s heels, frustrated, and then growls in Kaykel’s direction, taking off across the deck after her.

Lira takes on Aurelia herself with another pair of magic missiles, followed-up by an arrow from Kiara.

###

Elsuki manages a last parting swipe at Maklim, who grasps a rope and, managing to hang on this time, swings back to his ship. Brother Bradley follows suit, leaping easily between the two vessels without assistance.

Anvil scowls. These bandits of the high seas will not escape, and their leader will feel Ketennek’s wrath. “Ketennek!” he calls out. “I ask that you see fit to punish this man for the crimes of piracy, murder, sailing under false flags, and various others which I am sure he has committed but of which I am not currently aware!”

Maklim looks back at Anvil and shakes his head, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s—” at which point he is cut off by a sudden clap of thunder and a nearly unbearable pain that shoots through his entire body. “Da-amn!”

Anvil looks on soberly. “You have damned yourself.”

(Astute readers might recognize this as deific vengeance from The Complete Divine. We didn’t.)

Eva stabs at Maklim with her rapier, and he only barely manages to parry the blow. Eva is just about to follow-up with another attack when she’s suddenly jolted by a crippling burst of black energy. She gasps, turning to look for the source, and finds Aurelia, floating above holy symbol raised, ready to cast again.

(Astute readers might recognize this as another ranged inflict spell, showing that BadMonkeyJeff isn’t the only person at the table who reads The Complete Divine.)

“Go home, little girl, before you get hurt again,” the priestess taunts.

Eva is only distracted for a moment, but a moment is all Maklim needs to knock Eva’s rapier aside and bring his own sword up under her chin.

“Do as she says,” Maklim’s earlier easy grin has been replaced by real anger. “I won’t ask you twice.”

Eva’s eyes flash. She’s sick of people telling her what to do. “Bite me.”

Maklim’s sword flashes, Eva ducks, but the blade still manages to slice her scalp, sending blood dripping into one eye. Despite her bravado, Eva is quite aware she is not in the best position. In fact, aside from the dire wolverine, she realizes she is very much without ally on an enemy vessel.

And that is when Thatch, dripping wet, comes climbing over the rail and onto the deck.

(DM: Where do you want to come aboard?
Thatch’s player: Oh, you’d better believe I’m gonna flank that m-----f-----!

Let it be noted here that Thatch’s player has never regretted the skill points that he piled into swim.)

Eva grins, slices Maklim’s Achilles tendon and follows with a thrust to the kidneys.

###

Anvil and Aurelia glare at each other across the space between their two vessels. As Lira and the wolverine have turned their combined attention to Brother Bradley, and Thatch and Eva appear to have the pirate captain well in hand, there are no distractions as Anvil turns his attention to the Sedellan. She’s looking right at him as he casts, and Anvil makes no attempt to conceal his motions.

After all, he thinks to himself, it will be the last thing she sees.

For her part, the thought that comes to Aurelia as Anvil’s blindness spell takes hold and her world goes black is: I should have saved that dispel magic I used on the web.

Aurelia casts sanctuary on herself instead, but not before two arrow embed themselves in her thigh and Kiara’s shouts of victory ring in her ears.

The spell also doesn’t stop Annika from zorching Aurelia with her wand of shocking ray, or from Eva following up with two deftly-placed arrows of her own. Finally, Aurelia crumples in the air then floats gently to the deck.

Brother Bradley lies bleeding on the deck as the wolverine comes dashing for Maklim. Already weakened by Eva’ and Thatch’s devastating attacks, the captain is soon unconscious.

Kaykel, now the only member of her crew still standing, lets out a squeak of fear and makes a desperate dash for the aftcastle and the ship’s wheel.

Thatch catches her at sword-point an instant before she reaches it.

“Don’t even think about it,” he tells her. For a breath, Kaykel hesitates, then slowly puts her hands in the air, and surrenders.

###

Through quick action by Anvil, Lira, and Reyu, only three of the sailors on The Fool’s Errand succumb to their wounds, although many are caught just at the brink of death.

Kaykel is handcuffed and placed in the Errand’s hold, where she is soon joined by several guards, and Maklim, unconscious but stabilized and bound with Anvil’s masterwork manacles. None of the rest of the Shore’s crew survived their wounds.
As the adrenaline wears off, the party members finally tend to their own wounds and then set off to explore their unexpectedly captured vessel.

A Coda

As some of you know (and the rest of you are about to), whenever I complete a session’s worth of story hour, I send the file off to Fajitas for a read-through before I start posting. Over the years—and I confess that it feels a bit weird that I say that without exaggeration, we’ve been this for years now—we’ve worked out a system that allows us both to be happy with the resulting story hour… without killing each other during its creation.

So now, as a sort of DVD extra, I would like share with you (in its entirety and completely unchanged) the note I found following Zokuth’s first line in Part the One-Hundred Seventy-Fourth:

**********

“Don’t like this, sir,” Zokuth is shaking her head. “Can’t see the others. Ragya should have the whole crew snarled in the rigging by now.”

DEEPLY STUPID WORLD NOTE: Funny story. Ragya is not, in fact, her actual name. In fact, excepting Aurelia, none of the guys you took aboard were using their real names. Ragya and Sakeem are both Ebisite names, whereas in reality they’re both from Dar Thane, like the others. And Brother Bradley is a Pykosian name, to lend credence to the story that he’s helping them get to Dar Pykos. In fact, he too is Thanean. Their real names are Raka, Sorkane, and Bothk.

The fact of the matter is that everyone on the ship, except for Aurelia, is Thanean. They were all from the town of Tranquil Shores, which was located on one of the islands in the Darine Straits. It was destroyed by the Ebisites. The crew of the Tranquil Shore were among the few survivors. Maklim got a Letter of Marquee (privateer authorization) from Dar Thane, and they all banded together to prey upon ships of Ebis in revenge for their devastated home. I believe that Raka/Ragya was the only one of them who as actually *there* at the time. Witnessing the slaughter of her family is why she’s crazy.

Aurelia isn’t really a Handmaiden, either. She’s a Sedellan, pretending to be a Handmaiden for purposes of infiltration. Aurelia probably isn’t her real name, as it sounds far more like a Handmaiden name than it does a Sedellan name. I believe she’s a Child of the Wind, tho’ I didn’t write that down. I even think that I had something in my mind about her seducing Maklim and egging him on into more and more Sedellus-like tactics. She could give a crap about the destruction of their village, but she was overjoyed to find an emotionally pliable privateer captain that she could turn into a force of destruction.

Anyway. There’s every reason to think that this is not actually worth mentioning, but I thought I’d bring it up.

**********

Ultimately, I decided that the fight was confusing enough without having the crew of the Tranquil Shore refer to each other by one set of names and the crew of The Fool’s Errand think of them by another, but it did seem worth mentioning.

Part the One-Hundred Seventy-Ninth
In which: we once again hoist sail.

Manacled, and locked in the forecastle of The Fool’s Errand Kaykel is not pleased. Standing guard outside, Thatch has been getting quite an earful.

“And you’d best get off the Cap’n’s ship,” their petite prisoner continues. “He’s got all manner of nasty surprises below decks…”

Lira and Eva approach as Kaykel takes a pause for breath.

“She said anything useful?” Eva asks.

Thatch shrugs. “Next time we need to curse someone, I’ve got some new ones to try out.”

“Any Ehktian ones?” Lira asks, then explains as Thatch and Eva eye her skeptically. “What? ‘Ehkt’s balls’ gets a little repetitive.”

From within comes, “And if you think the Thanean navy is going to let this go, you’ve got another thought coming, I can tell you that!”

“A couple. She uh… doesn’t seem to hold to any god particularly,” Thatch replies.

“Well,” Lira flexes her fingers just a tad theatrically, “if you could open the door and keep her distracted for a few seconds, I’ll see if I can make friends.”

###

Eva stands guard in the doorway, just in case of trouble, but under the influence of charm person, Kaykel proves to be a much more agreeable prisoner.

“You should be fine below decks,” she assures Lira. “I mean, I might be a little careful around Jor’s stuff, but that’s really it.”

A cursory exploration of the other ship has revealed no sign of any further crew, which is odd. A ship of its size would normally require at least ten hands on deck at all times. Still, the party also finds many locked doors. A search of Maklim’s person for keys yields an abundance of candidates, as well as several weapons, of which he is divested before he can regain consciousness.

Meanwhile, Lira asks Kaykel about the seeming lack of crew.

“Oh, we’ve got all the crew we need. More really. You could sail The Tranquil Shore by yourself if you had to.”

“How?” Lira asks.

“You just tell the ship what to do, and she’ll do it.”

“We’ve tried that. It doesn’t seem to work.”

Kaykel grins and gives a little shake of her head. “Well, you need the command words, silly. Can’t have just anyone coming aboard and taking over.”

“Right… What were those words again?”

Kaykel sobers. “I’m not supposed to say.”

“You can tell me though, right?” Lira looks her most endearing. “We’re friends.”

Kaykel looks over at her commander, still unconscious on the other side of the small cabin. “I think it’d be better if you just asked the Cap’n. I mean, I’m sure he’ll tell you, but it’s his ship.”

Lira shoots Eva a helpless look, and Eva shrugs. While Lira remains to continue her efforts of persuasion, the rogue goes to explore the rest of their newly captured ship.

###

The aft castle, much like their own, has been made up as chart room, captain’s mess, and the captain’s quarters. Eva finds several maps of the islands of the Darine Straights many of which have cryptic notes in the margins. There is also a letter bearing the seal of Dar Thane, authorizing Captain Maklim Renott and his crew as privateers with a mandate to “harass all Ebisite commerce and seize as prizes all appropriate spoils.”

The captain’s quarters are austere to the point of barrenness. A few more fighting knives, a spare set of clothes, and an old quilt on the bed account for the majority of his possessions. On one wall a map of a small island somewhere in the Straights hangs in pride of place. On it is marked a small coastal town, neatly labeled “Tranquil Shore.”

At the opposite end of the deck, the forecastle has been converted into a sumptuous set of guest quarters, no doubt—from the jewelry found within—formerly occupied by Lady Aurelia the “handmaiden.”

Below decks is the ship’s galley and crew quarters. Zokuth and Welk’s room is furnished simply, with many cutlasses… and even more carved wooden toys shaped into animals and monsters—many of which are even more fanciful than what the party members found in the Ketkath.

Jor’s room is, as Kaykel hinted, trapped. Fortunately the rig is as obvious to detect as it is deadly. Eva disarms it, and she and Thatch proceed to poke around. After digging through piles of empty wineskins and several stacks of obscene artwork of the cheapest kind, Thatch uncovers a cache of blackroot distillate at the bottom of a trunk.

Eva wrinkles her nose.

“Well, it is legal in Dar Thane,” Thatch points out.

“How do you know that?” Eva asks.

Thatch ducks his head and mutters something about conversations overheard in a tavern. Eva lets it go.

Kaykel’s room is decorated with pretty seashells nailed to the walls, and a trunk full of coins tucked away under her bunk.

The other lifeboat “refugees” appear to have been staying in a single large room to forward, divided by hanging curtains.

Anvil finds Kettenite holy texts from the Sovereignty that he can only assume once belonged to Brother Bradley, along with Sakeem’s spell book and several scrolls. Annika identifies the scrolls as resilient sphere and wall of force. She also finds that he appeared to be working on a magic item, almost like a periapt of health, but with some interesting alterations.

She shows it to Anvil. “He was probably working on it to try to help his sister.”

Anvil nods. “It is true that even the Unjust sometimes act Justly.”

Annika blinks, pretty sure that pronouncement didn’t make any sense. After thinking about it for a few seconds, she’s almost positive it doesn’t. But Anvil sounds so sure when he says things like that, it makes her want to believe him anyway.

“Look at this.” His voice pulls her out of her reverie.

Anvil has found a doll by the third hammock. Her eyes are ripped off, and her hands have been tied to the sides of her head with a piece of paper and a bit of string. Anvil removes the paper and uncoils it. A childish, unsteady hand has written: “Beware the snakes, they crawl into your ears when you sleep.”

Eva has come up behind the pair and reads over Anvil shoulder. “See,” she says, “that’s why I don’t like the woods.”

“I think it’s a metaphor,” Annika tells her. “At least, I hope it is.”

###

Above decks again, the party consults. Annika has found that the ship’s wheel and nine other points around the deck radiate faint conjuration magic.

“From what Kaykel said,” Annika theorizes, “they’re probably all Unseen Servant. The wheel would be the lynch-pin. Stand there, speak the command words, and you can run the whole ship by yourself.”

Lira shakes her head. “I still haven’t been able to convince Kaykel to tell me the command words.”

Reyu considers. “Could you attempt to charm the captain after he regains consciousness and learn the commands from him?”

“Maybe?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Annika suggests. “Tomorrow I can prepare Identify and find out myself.”

Lira shrugs. “Fine with me.”

“Excellent,” Anvil declares. “Do so.”

It is then that Captain Elsuki brings up a rather unpleasant subject. “If’n there’s nothing more ye be wanting with the prisoners, it be best we get on with it.”

“Get on with what?” Kiara asks.

“Hanging them.”

“Hang them?” Kiara squeaks. “We’re supposed to hang them?”

“They’re pirates,” Elsuki explains, speaking slowly, in deference to Kiara’s youth and apparent naïveté.

It’s a bit of a conversation stopper.

Finally, Thatch breaks the silence. “Umm… Didn’t they have that letter thing from Dar Thane?”

Captain Elsuki snorts. “Aye, and I could ha’ a letter from th’ Imperial Admiral for all that it matters.”

“We are not in Dar Thane,” Anvil points out. “And until the cause of Universal Law has triumphed, it holds no power on the high seas.”

Yasmine looks at the Justicar somewhat askance. “Are you quoting something?”

“I have conducted extensive research,” he informs her.

###

The business is at least mercifully brief for all concerned. Maklim has regained consciousness and retains a grim composure throughout. Kaykel is less sanguine about her fate, but Captain Elsuki is firm in his resolve and aboard the ship, his word is law.

Yasmine proves to be an able hangman, and both surviving prisoners die instantly. Their bodies are given to the sea, and before the sun has twice set on their pitched battle, The Fool’s Errand and The Tranquil Shores are hoisting sail.

###

Since only one person is really required to sail The Tranquil Shores, there is just enough surviving crew on the Errand to maintain both ships. Thatch, Eva, and Kiara all take crash sailing lessons and lend a hand where and as they can.

Within a week, the ships have arrived in sight of the fabled Islands of Mirage.

Part the One-Hundred Eightieth
In which: land ho!

Reyu looks at the scroll of parchment that Captain Elsuki has rolled on a small table near the ship’s wheel. A field of blue with lines and a few green blobs on it. She shakes her head.

“I do not understand,” she says. “How can an island be flat?”

“Imagine you’re a bird,” Kiara suggests, “and you’re flying above the islands. Really, really, really high. And that blue part would be the water, and the islands would be green…” she trails off at Reyu’s lost expression.

“But a ship… cannot fly.”

Kiara shakes her head, and gives up.

(WisdomLikeSilence rolled three 1s in a row trying to interpret Elsuki’s chart. Obviously, elves don’t make pictographic maps.)

Even for those who can interpret the chart, the picture it paints is woefully incomplete. The water surrounding the islands is much shallower than the surrounding sea, preventing long-rage vessels such as The Fools’ Errand or The Tranquil Shore from approaching.

Since a deep-drafted ship cannot penetrate the waters surrounding the islands themselves, the map shows only what could be observed from a distance.

“It looks like some of the islands have significant peaks on them,” Lira observes. “We should be able to get to high ground and survey farther into the archipelago as we go.”

Eva could hardly look less enthusiastic. “Great.”

“But, if we can’t approach on The Tranquil Shore, how are we going to find Barnabus?” Kiara asks.

“Captain Elsuki has given us the use of his longboat,” Anvil informs her. “We will row.”

This time, it’s Thatch’s turn to display a marked lack of enthusiasm. He has a feeling he knows who “we” are going to be in the rowing department. “Great.”

###

Although most of the group assumes that the logical course of action is to make first landfall on the same island the previous expeditions disappeared on, Lira suggests that they determine which island to explore first by tossing a small coin onto the chart, and going to whichever island the coin lands on.

Of course, the first three times she tries this, the stone goes skittering off the table and lands on the deck.

(Hey, it’s harder than you’d think to throw a die in the air and get it to land on an eight-and-a-half by eleven sheet of paper.)

“Maybe Ehkt is trying to tell you something?” Annika suggests.

Lira shrugs, looks up at the sun, and shouts, “If this is a really bad plan, Ehkt, strike me down!”

Beside her, Eva and Thatch each take a large step back. However, no smiting seems imminent, and the group agrees to follow the route of the last voyage.

###

Given that Ehkt does not seem to have an opinion on how best to approach the Islands of Mirage, the Fool’s Errand drops sea-anchor off the coast of the island where Elsuki’s previous captain and first mate went missing.

Captain Elsuki agrees to wait two weeks for their return before he heads back for Nayarii.

Anvil frowns at this. “You will return with both ships?”

“Aye.”

“We have an agreement as to the division of spoils from this voyage. Even if we take all of the portable items of value from The Tranquil Shore, it would be a mere fraction of the value of the vessel itself.”

“Aye.” Elsuki cannot disagree.

“Unless the riches to be found among the islands themselves are a truly untold sum, you will owe us a great deal of money.”

“Well, there’s that.” The Captain’s expression makes plain that if the party does not return within two weeks, he does not anticipate them ever being in a position to collect their debt.

“What if we send you word to wait for us?” Lira puts in.

“And how would y’be doin’ that without coming back?” Elsuki asks, amsued.

Lira ignores his tone. “We can contact you magically.”

Captain Elsuki sighs. “Of course ye can,” he mutters, then clears his throat and actually answers. “Ye send word magically that ye’re okay and we should wait, I’ll give you another week.”

Anvil nods. “Agreed.”

And without further negotiation, the party packs their gear—Thatch bids good-bye to Bob—and they take to their longboat and head for the island where Elsuki’s last captain met his final fate.

The party members hope for better results.

###

Kiara flies ahead of the boat, soaring high for the first time in what feels like forever. From her vantage point, it’s easy to get a good look at the island where they are about to make landfall. Aside from being covered in extremely dense and varied vegetation, there doesn’t seem to be anything unusual about it. She sees no signs of any dwellings, habitations, or fauna of any sort.

She reports back to the rest of the group, who decide to proceed regardless. Even if it appears unlikely that this is Barnabus’ home, the island has a peak of some elevation, and they reason that if they can reach that point, they will be able to survey farther into the archipelago, and add to their scanty map.

They party lands their boat on the beach, secures the longboat above the high tide line, and sets out to explore the island’s interior.

###

Thatch takes the lead, hacking through incredibly dense underbrush as the group makes their way slowly uphill. Kiara is able to dodge around most of the local flora as she flies in swallow form, but for the rest of the party it is slow going indeed. The sun is hot, and the air thick with flying insects, busily flitting from one flowering plant to another.

It’s spring, and every plant on the island seems to be in bloom.

It’s after lunch when, passing by a particularly lush patch of grass between two trees, Kiara is suddenly struck by the feeling that something is… off. She looks around, sharply, unable to pinpoint what exactly has changed about the current landscape.

She signals mentally to Annika, who stops the group.

“Kiara sees something.”

“What?” asks Eva, who has been expecting something to go wrong since the group returned to the wilderness.

“I don’t know,” Annika shrugs helplessly. “I don’t think she knows.”

“That is not useful,” Anvil points out, but Reyu cuts him off.

“No, I believe I know what she means. It’s—”

But what it is becomes abruptly evident as a vine comes striking down from its place in the canopy, and wraps itself around Reyu’s neck.

Part the One-Hundred Eighty-First
In which: it’s only a plant… right?

As the vine hoists Reyu off her feet, the rest of the party swings into action. Eva hurls a dagger, hoping to sever the vine before Reyu loses her air supply.

The blade spins through the air, razor-sharp edge singing through the air. She misses.

Thatch readies his sword, taking a mighty swing, and cutting a beautiful swath through the air. Lira and Annika let fly with the magic missiles, which hit at least, but aren’t enough to convince the vine to let go of its victim. And so, Reyu take matters into her own hands and wildshapes into a black bear, planning on using the sudden shift in size to break the vine’s grapple. It doesn’t work.

Kiara flies straight up, shooting above the canopy where she has room to shift into her hybrid form. From her new vantage point, she sees that the vine throttling Reyu is not just a rogue tentacle, but an appendage anchored in a massive tangle of vines.

Vines that are on the move.

“Look out!” Kiara shouts, but her cry comes just an instant too late as five more vines shoot out of the tangle, straight for Annika, Lira, Anvil, Eva, and Thatch.

Lira lets out a shriek as a vine wraps around her ankle, jerking her upward sharply until she is dangling upside-down some seven feet above the ground. She tries to magic missile it, but the vine constricts painfully around her leg, shaking her so hard she’s unable to maintain her concentration.

Annika is soon dangling beside her, while Anvil has fared slightly better, with the vine wrapped around one arm, at least leaving him in a more conventional orientation. Unfortunately, Thatch is hoisted by his neck. Only Eva manages to evade the grasping tendril, escaping with only a welt on her shoulder as it slaps at her ineffectively.

A second vine goes after Reyu, and she simply gives up on getting free. Instead, she swings herself over to the trunk of a nearby tree and climbs it to bring herself within claws reach of the nest of vines. More vines emerge and slap at her, trying, but unable to get purchase on her heavy coat and thick, ursine limbs.

Anvil and Thatch each swing wildly, trying to hack themselves down, while Kiara and Eva concentrate their attacks on the creature’s central mass. Can a plant be a creature? Eva barely has time to wonder as she nocks an arrow for another volley.

Meanwhile, the vines further entangle their helpless victims and squeeze.

Annika struggles valiantly, but it’s no use. She can’t concentrate. She can’t aim her wand of shocking ray properly. The vine is squeezing her tighter and tighter, and darkness is starting to creep in around the edges of her vision. She can feel Kiara in her head, worried, and for good reason. Although she tries to shield the thought from Kiara, she’s pretty worried too.

Kiara shoots the central nest, and her arrow at last strikes true, burying over half its length, its end quivering. She lets out a cheer, the suddenly turns into a scream. Below her, Annika’s body has gone limp.

The plant drops Annika’s unconscious body to the ground. A few seconds later, Lira’s follows. Then Anvil’s.

And just like that, almost half the party is down.

Thatch swings crazily with his sword at the vine holding him, grazing it, but still unable to cut himself free.

Eva swears, ducking as the three vines no longer throttling her friends come after her again. Kiara is still peppering the plant’s “body” with arrows, but it’s hard to tell if they’re making any progress. Although it quivers slightly as Kiara continues shooting at it, it’s impossible to tell how injured it might be. And with most of our divine and all of our arcane firepower unconscious and bleeding to death— Eva stops in mid-thought. Firepower. She ducks behind a tree-trunk, and starts digging madly through her pack.

Above, the central mass of vines sends out a series of new, shorter tendrils and pulls itself slowly through the canopy. It shows no interest in the unconscious party members it has just dropped, instead focusing on Eva, the only free one on the ground.

Unluckily for the plat, as it pulls itself slowly forward, it passes right by the tree trunk where Reyu still clings. She reaches out with one paw and claws a great chunk out of it. The knot of vines wriggles madly for a few seconds after being ripped away, then goes limp and drops off Reyu’s claws to fall to the ground below. The vine wrapped around Reyu’s neck goes with it.

She turns to look for Eva bringing her head around just in time to see the young rogue step out from behind a tree, a flask of alchemist’s fire clutched in one hand. She takes her time, aims, and hurls it at the plant, hitting dead center of the mass of vines.

The flask breaks on impact, coating the plant creature with viscous green liquid that immediately bursts into flame.

As his vision dims, Thatch sees the vines burn. It’s almost eerie, he thinks distantly, the way the plant doesn’t scream. Instead, it writhes, silently and violently. And in its violent shaking, it loses its grip on Thatch’s throat, and the fighter falls to the ground. He waves for a few seconds, but keeps his feet.
A few more arrows from Kiara, and the vines go slack. The tangle falling, charred and smoking, to the ground.

While Reyu brings Anvil and Lira back to consciousness, and Kiara feeds Annika a healing potion, Thatch walks over to the heart of the plant creature and hacks the central nest in half with a single stroke of his sword.

The thing is solid vines, all the way through.

He kicks over one half, and to his surprise, finds that they are not the first to have encountered this plant and lived. On one side, it bears a brand.

Part the One-Hundred Eighty-Second
In which: Reyu notices one thing amiss, but misses another.

The sun is still high overhead when the party reaches the peak that they’ve been aiming for. Light glitters on the water surrounding the island, and the sea before them is dotted with the rest of the archipelago. While the others pause to update their map, Reyu scans the island.

“What do you see?” Anvil asks her.

Reyu squints. Frankly, she sees a lot of plants. Forest plants, water-loving plants, tall plants, short plants… by the far shore, she sees something else.

“I believe there is some kind of… structure… on the side of the island opposite where we landed.

Anvil follows her finger. He can just make out the point she is indicating. “Indeed.”

“Ooo! Ooo!” Kiara is already sprouting wings. “I’ll go look!” She leaps into the air and takes off, finishing her shift to swallow form in midair.

“Be—” Annika calls after her… “Careful,” she finishes belatedly.

Kiara is back soon enough, and without obvious misadventure. She perches on Annika’s shoulder and mentally relates what she’s seen.

“She says it’s some kind of dock.”

“A dock?” Eva asks.

The swallow nods.

“Were there any other structures?”

The swallow shakes her head.

“Who would build a dock on an empty island?” Lira asks of no one in particular.

“An archmage?” Thatch suggests. “We’ve already met one who builds a windowless tower in the middle of the desert. That’s weirder than a dock.”

A pause.

“He’s got a point,” Eva admits.

Hoping that closer investigation will yield more information, the party decides to return to their boat and see this dock for themselves.

###

Retracing their steps back to the boat is easier than the journey from it, both because it is largely downhill, and because the party is able to follow their own, previously cleared, trail.

Along the way, Kiara spots a clearing not far from their path. In it, a large ovoid pod covered in thick thorns stands up from a doily of dark shiny green leaves.

“Oh look,” Lira remarks when this is pointed out to her, “a giant spiny pod. Let’s leave it alone.”

This is readily accepted as an agreeable plan. After Anvil checks to see if it is a magical giant spiny pod (it isn’t), and then checks to make sure the party hasn’t picked up any magical items they weren’t aware of (they haven’t), they press on, and by late afternoon have shoved off in their longboat once again.

###

With Thatch at the oars, it doesn’t take long to circumnavigate the island and arrive at the previously sighted dock. The party moors their craft and steps out onto the simple wooden structure.

“Well,” Eva remarks, “it sure is a dock.”

While the dock is clearly intended as a permanent structure, Reyu finds no real trail from it into the island’s interior, or even any tracks. After much searching in the failing light, she finds something of a trail off to one side, but it doesn’t look to have been maintained for quite some time.

Apparently, Barnabus doesn’t visit this particular island with much frequency.

“Fancy that,” Lira grouses. “Between the insects and the vines that want to kill you, it has so much to recommend it.”

The party decides to make camp on the beach and wait until daylight to see where the path leads. Reyu fishes for their dinner, and the party happily supplements their sea-rations with her catch.

After dinner, Anvil rises from his seat and the fire and proclaims: “Archmage Barnabus! We are here with a message from King Orrin of Dar Pykos. Show yourself!”

The only response comes from the lapping of the waves and the crackling of the fire.

###

It’s second watch, in the very middle of the night. Anvil has just completed his midnight prayers, and the beach is quiet.

Reyu gazes up at the stars, spread across the sky in dizzying thickness and intensity. Although she knows Captain Elsuki and The Fool’s Errand are not far off, it feels like the party’s little fire is the only light for hundreds of miles.

Around the smoldering embers, her companions slumber.

Lira fell asleep only a few hours ago, having sat the first watch of the evening, and so it is with some annoyance at first that she notices Euro’s presence intruding on her consciousness.

Boss! Boss! Wake up!

Once she registers his panic, Lira wakes immediately. She barely has time to utter a mental What is it? before she notices the crushing weight on her lower legs. She looks down, and in the dim light of the fire she can see some kind of plant-like mound, perhaps two feet tall and as wide in diameter, covering her feet and lower legs. Then, by a fraction of an inch, the mound shifts upwards.

Lira shrieks.

As she wiggles and tries to get up, the thing scoots off and immediately begins shuffling towards the tree-line. Anvil, already awake, moves quickly and pulls a burning log out of the fire, beating the thing as it retreats.

The mound smokes and scoots even faster.

(BadMonkeyJeff: 1d6 plus fire damage? Why isn't a burning club my regular weapon?)

By the time most of the rest of the party has untangled themselves from their bedrolls, he has pretty well driven it off, and Eva shoots off an arrow or two for good measure to discourage it from coming back.

Lira is unhurt, albeit somewhat shaken, a condition which is not aided when she discovers a few tiny holes have been punctured in her blanket.

“What was it going to do to me?”

“You are uninjured,” Reyu points out calmly.

“Yes, because Euro noticed the big shuffling plant invading our camp. You were on watch. What were you watching?” Euro glares indignantly from Lira's shoulder.

Don't you worry Boss. Any more plants so much as look at your funny, they're going to have to deal with me, you know?

Reyu, archly, does not reply.

(WisdomLikeSilence, on the other hand, says: “Oh, are you upset because I didn’t protect you from the big scary compost heap?”)

Finally, with a last muttered, “This is why I hate the woods,” from Eva, the party goes back to sleep.

Part the One-Hundred Eighty-Third
In which: if you were an archmage, would you live here?

The next morning, the group treks up the overgrown path that Reyu located the previous evening.

The trail is long and meandering, with no sign of recent passage or habitation. Reyu notices that at one point they make a complete loop around a grove of darkwood trees. The sigil they saw branded into the vine creature has been burned into the trunks, and Reyu finds signs of a light harvest made some years back.

(The party members might have stopped to take a bit themselves, but most of their players have not read the DMG. “Dark wood? Okay. Whatever.”)

Seeing nothing of particular interest, the party moves on.

###

Maybe a quarter of a mile farther up the trail, Annika suddenly stops and points off to one side. “We should go that way.”

Thatch stops short beside her, nodding. “She’s right.”

Reyu frowns. She can see no sign of anything of any interest off the trail in that direction. “Why?” she asks. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Annika says. “It doesn’t matter… We should go.”

Anvil frowns. If it was just Thatch he would dismiss it at magical mind-control, but Annika is usually stronger-willed than the young fighter.

He confers with the other members of the party who do not feel any certainty in the indicated direction.

“I see nothing off the trail,” Reyu says, keeping her voice low.

Apparently, not low enough. “It’s just out of sight,” Annika insists.

“Okay, that’s weird,” Eva decides, and Lira nods.

“Still,” Anvil points out, “it is not unworthy of investigation.”

Eventually, and with much prodding from Annika and Thatch, the group does leave the path. However, they make their enthusiastic “guides” walk at the back of line.

“This is dumb,” Thatch points out. “How will you know which way to go?”

Eva keeps a hand on his elbow. “You can tell us if we’re heading in the wrong direction,” she tells him grimly.

At first, nothing appears amiss. Then, about fifty or sixty feet off the path, Reyu stops the column.

“There,” she says, pointing.

Sure enough, almost concealed in the litter of the forest floor are two semi-circular rows of sharp thorns facing each other.

Reyu takes a fallen branch and pokes at the center between the two semi-circles. Like teeth of a giant mouth, the thorns snap together, closing around the end of the stick and trapping it inside a gleaming reddish pouch.

Thatch and Annika blink, the effect attracting them to the site apparently broken.

“What the hell is that?” Thatch asks.

Lira grits her teeth. “I hate plants.”

The party presses on a little further along the trail, but as it becomes increasingly clear they are the only humans to have passed this way in quite some time, they eventually decide to turn around and try their luck on the next island.

###

As they first draw near the second island, the party is greeted by an imposing rocky shore, broken only by a waterfall plunging into the sea below. Thatch rows on, in hopes of finding a dock like the one on the last island, but as it grows dark, they settle for a comfortable-looking beach.

The night passes quietly, although Euro—not trusting the others’ ability to keep watch—gets very little sleep. And so, the next morning, as Reyu and Kiara take wing to survey the island from above, the rest of the party—and a very sleepy weasel—set out to explore the island on foot.

Aerial reconnaissance reveals another dock on the side of the island farthest from the open sea, and a clear, spring-fed lake at the isle’s highest elevation. From that basin, streams and cascades feed other, smaller pools all over the island.

At ground level, Annika sums up the overall effect. “It feels… tranquil.”

And it’s true. The island is forested, although not as thickly as the first island, which the party has dubbed “The Island of the Killer Plants.” And as their party makes their way through the woods, their path is punctuated with numerous freshwater springs and pools. At one such spring, filled with glittering koi fish—after checking to be sure the water is clean and not magical, evil, or chaotic—the party gratefully takes the opportunity to refill their water-skins and wet their toes and faces with the cooling liquid.

Still, the island appears to be as devoid of archmages as the last. The party hikes on until late afternoon, finally finding a dry flat place to camp.

In fact, it would be hard to imagine a more perfect campsite. The ground is flat and level, and there are no tree-roots sticking up or undergrowth to clear. There’s even a small, still pond, tranquil in the shade of the overhanging trees.

Reyu looks at the pond again and blinks. There’s something… off about it. After a second or two, she realizes what it is.

“The pond,” she says, indicating it to the others. “It’s not… fed… by anything.”

And yes, on second examination, there is a certain, stagnant quality to the water. Reyu approaches, and just as she draws within steps of the pond… there is a ripple in the water, and a huge pseudopod lashes out at her.

Part the One-Hundred Eighty-Fourth
In which: it’s the attack… of the blob!

Reyu just has time to dodge out of the way and realizes that her earlier assessment is almost completely inaccurate. Whatever the pool is, it is no pond… and it is about to be fed.

As Reyu ducks away from the “pond’s” lashing tongue, Eva wastes no time on philosophical musings. Bow out, and unable to discern anything that looks like a vital organ, Eva fires an arrow right for the thing’s center mass.

At a target that size less than thirty feet away, she can hardly miss, and indeed her arrow flies true, passing right through the center of the creature and out the other side, leaving a silvery path of bubbles through the viscous fluid.

The creature shudders for a moment, and then… bifurcates, right along the path of the shot. Each half slides away from the wound, and—since they flatten slightly on the ground—leave the appearance that each is now nearly the same size as the original blob.

The two halves roll across the ground towards the party. Everyone backs up, horrified.

“Right,” says Lira, as she readies a spell, “let’s not do that again.”

Thatch nods in mute agreement, holstering his sword and reaching instead for Professor Alexandra’s pitcher. Bracing his feet firmly on the ground, he shouts, “Fresh geyser!” The pitcher obeys, sending out a blast of cold, clear water. Thatch aims the torrent at the half nearest him, and the transparent blob ripples and bubbles a bit under the onslaught. Most importantly, the stream of water slows its advance towards the party.

The other half of the creature has no such obstacles. As it nears Eva and Lira, the sorcerer unleashes her readied burning hands. A small chunk of the creature melts away under the assault, but at that instant, another pseudopod emerges and thwacks Eva right in the chest. She gasps and tries to back away, but the thrashing appendage sticks like glue, enveloping her, and drawing her back towards the body.

Eva struggles as hard as she can. Her skin burns everywhere the viscous body of the creature touches her, and she squeezes her eyes shut as tightly as she can. On her back, she feels her pack hiss and steam. Dimly, through the goo pressing into her ears, she can hear Lira screaming her name.

Thatch does the best he can with the pitcher, trying to keep his half of the blob away from Reyu, Annika and himself. Annika calls down a lightening bolt upon it, which Reyu follows up with a flaming sphere. The blob shudders and ripples a bit, steaming from the heat, but continues its slow advance.

It’s like a giant slug, Thatch thinks. Then, he gets an idea. Maybe it is like a giant slug. He doesn’t have a huge saucer of beer handy, like they would put out on the farm. But there was another way to keep them away from the gardens…

Thatch renews his grip on the pitcher. “Salt geyser!” he shouts. The blob almost seems to sputter for a moment, and its forward advance stops.

Eva can feel the last of her armor melting away into slag and falling off her trapped limbs. Her lungs are nearly bursting, but she resists the overwhelming urge to take a breath. Drowning, she thinks, in something that isn’t even really water. She fights against the crushing grip of the creature. Must get free. Must get free. Must… She blacks out.

With a roar, Anvil charges the blob still holding Eva, her now unconscious body suspended, her feet inches from the ground, her face inches from the open air. His sword rips down through the creature, causing it to split again. Although, he notes with satisfaction, at least this time the halves are markedly smaller than the parent.

Lira strikes the blob holding Eva with a magic missle, and it shudders just a bit. Excellent, Anvil thinks, and turns to the others. “By Kettenek’s Justice—!” he begins, just as the other blob he separated reaches out and envelops him, drawing the Justicar into its acid embrace.

With Anvil still doing his best to smite the affront to Kettenek in which he has been enveloped, the rest of the party concentrates their efforts on freeing the unconscious Eva, hoping that she is still alive.

Reyu lets her flaming sphere assist Thatch in keeping the largest chunk of the blob contained, and casts produce flame at Eva’s transparent prison, hoping that the heat will not further injure her trapped friend. Annika follows suit with a jolt of electricity from her wand of shocking ray. Eva appears unaffected by the attacks, but the goo surrounding her becomes cloudy and loses vitality.

Lira casts a final set of magic missiles and the chunk at last splatters, melting into the dirt and leaving Eva lying unconscious, but still alive, on the damp ground. Reyu runs forward to heal her, and a few seconds later, Eva gasps, eyes flying open.

“What in the hells is that thing?”

“Not a pond.”

Eva blinks. “Is it dead?”

“A piece of it is. You might want to… withdraw.”

Eva takes another shuddering breath. “Yeah. Good plan.” She doesn’t even bother to rise to her feet, but tumbles directly backwards, out of the reach.

Two blobs remain. The larger lurches towards Thatch but is unable to reach around the geyser of salt water he has trained on it. Inside the other, Anvil feels his armor begin to dissolve.

Anvil, however, is not out of the fight. Calling upon his divinely granted feat of strength he wrenches himself free of the acid creature, just before Lira nails it with a magic missile.

The two halves of the blob try to close back together, reaching to trap Anvil and Reyu between them, but all of the flailing pseudopods miss, flapping helplessly in the air. Annika zorches the larger half with her wand of shocking ray. As she does so, Reyu plows into it with her flaming sphere, then throws a produce flame.

The blob snaps rigid for a second, abruptly going from translucent to opaque, and then bursts apart in a shower of acidic slime.

Thatch grins, and turns the salt geyser to nail the last remaining smaller one.

On the other hand, the blob is not giving up without a fight. It scoots sideways out of Thatch’s stream, and as it does so, it envelops Reyu in a single gulp. Annika fires her shocking ray and Lira casts yet another magic missile, but the blob holds fast to its new victim.

Inside the creature, Reyu remains calm. Testing her strength against the creature’s all-encompassing grasp, she quickly determines that she will not be able to break free through brute force. However, that is not her only option.

Calming her mind, Reyu strives to ignore the feeling of her clothes melting against her flesh, her hard armor scraping against raw skin. Instead, she reaches out mentally to her flaming sphere, still active and burning only a few feet away. Quashing any panic that her air is running short, she calls the sphere to her.

It comes, and as the flames lick the wet surface of the viscous blob, the creature squeezes Reyu one last time… and bursts open.

Reyu’s feet hit the ground and she immediately dives into the stream of water from Thatch’s pitcher. The pounding spray immediately lessens, and when Reyu opens her mouth, she finds that the fighter has reset the magic item to its “fresh fountain” setting.

When the last of the burning feeling on her skin has faded, Reyu steps out of the spray and looks at the rest of her companions. They are alone in the clearing. The battle is over.

Then, she realizes that Thatch and Anvil are pointedly not looking at her.

“What is the matter?” she asks Lira.

The sorcerer blushes. “The ah… blob ate your clothes.”

Reyu looks down at herself, not quite covered in only her leather armor. “Indeed.”

Thatch nervously clears his throat.

“I have a spare set,” Lira offers. “We should be the same size.”

Reyu mentally rolls her eyes at her companions’ discomfiture. Only Kiara seems unbothered by her state of undress. “Perhaps that would be best.”

As Reyu dresses, Thatch tries to console Eva on the loss of her armor and equipment. Her clothes are still reparable, but unfortunately, that’s all her encounter with the creature has left her.

“Well,” he offers, “at least you have your modesty?”

Eva gives him a look to indicate that consolation is just as stupid as Thatch thought it was. “Frankly, I’d rather have my f---ing money.”

Thatch tries to change the subject, turning to the group at large. “Umm… do you think we should still camp here?”

“Why? Do you want to fight the next pool we decide to camp beside too?” Lira asks.

“That we would encounter two such creatures in one day would be highly unlikely,” Reyu opines as she rejoins the group. “And besides, we now know the signs to look for.”

Lira is unmoved by the logic. “And when was the last time ‘likely’ was the operative word for this mission?”

There is a certain logic there, and once the group satisfies themselves that the area is free of further hazards, they make camp. Laying out their bedrolls, they do find one object of note. At the spot where one of the blobs was destroyed is a large rounded stone, carved with the same sigil they found branded onto the plant creature. The rock radiates a faint aura of enchantment, but none of the magically inclined members of the party are able to determine what spell might be generating the effect.

Part the One-Hundred Eighty-Fifth
In which: echoes of the past return.

Around sunset, as the party is clearing up after their evening meal, Reyu pricks an ear. “Shh…” She gently signals for quiet, whispering, “Listen.”

The sound of rattling tin cups and rustling bedding quiets, to be replaced by the distant rush and gurgle of water, the pounding waves, and then… floating on the breeze, a deep lowing sound, as unexpected as it is hauntingly familiar.

The party members listen, entranced.

“Was that a lake wader?” Kiara whispers, quivering with glee. Beside her, Thatch’s eyes are bright with barely contained excitement.

Lira nods. “I think so,” she whispers, not wanting to obscure the last notes of the haunting call.

“But they live in fresh water,” Annika adds, just as quietly. “How would one get out here?”

Reyu slowly shakes her head. “I do not know.”

The calls continue on through dusk, sounding somehow melancholy in the gathering dark.

###

Later that night, Eva lies next to Lira, unable to sleep. She tries to get comfortable in borrowed blankets, but it isn’t the sleeping sorcerer beside her, or even the fidgety weasel keeping her awake. Her bedroll is gone. Her armor—the best Dar Karo had to offer—is gone. All of her money, every copper piece she’s saved since they started this goddess-forsaken journey, is gone.

Eva lets out an exasperated noise, then lies still, hoping not to have disturbed anyone. The rest of the party slumbers on. Goddess forsaken indeed, she thinks. On this trip, goddesses have been at least half the problem… But what am I going to do now? At this rate, the Fortune Riders will have their claws in me for the rest of my life… the memory of icy wind down her spine causes an involuntary shudder. And then some.

###

The next morning, dawn breaks on the holiest day of the Alirrian calendar, Alirria Ascendant, or mid-spring.

Thatch, stranded on an island in pretty much the exact geographical center of nowhere, is just a little peeved. Not that he has anything against any of his traveling companions. It’s just, this wasn’t exactly the cadre he’d hoped to celebrate with.

As Kiara and Reyu come back from their aerial reconnaissance of the island, he looks up, hopeful for at least a small bit of good news.

“Did you find the lakewader?” he asks, almost before either Kiara or Reyu have managed to fully shed their avian forms. “How far was it?”

“Who cares?” Eva asks, testily, not having the best day either. “What would you do with it if we found it?”

(At which point, BadMonkeyJeff, in full Anvil mode says, “Well, it is Alirria Ascendant…” with a gesture to indicate that a young man such as Thatch surely has his needs.

That’s where Thatch’s player chucked his dice at him.

Just in case you were wondering what it’s like playing with a group in their 20s and 30s that’s mostly women.)

As Thatch goes and pouts, Anvil turns to Reyu. “Did you see any sign of Barnabus?”

The druid shakes her head.

“Great,” Lira puts in, “we’ve gone from the deserted island of plants who want to kill us to the deserted island of ponds that want to kill us.” She pauses for a moment, as though suddenly struck by an idea. “You know, if anyone knew this place existed, it would be swarming with more Questors than the Ketkath.”

Reyu clears her throat. “There was no sign of habitation on this island,” she reiterates. “However, I did see smoke coming from another island not far from here.”

“At least it’s elementally appropriate,” Lira mutters under her breath.

Anvil ignores her. “Unless we have reason to linger here, that would seem a logical next destination,”

“Agreed.”

No one else is particularly eager to stick around. Although Thatch would have liked to see the lakewader for himself, he is decidedly in the minority opinion.

With a sigh, Thatch shoulders his pack and heads back towards the sea for another day of rowing. Some Alirria Ascendant, he thinks.

###

Just past mid afternoon, the party’s boat docks at the island where Reyu spotted smoke. This island is smaller and somewhat flatter than the other two they have visited, covered with areas of both light woods, and more open grassland.

Upon circling to the side farthest from the open sea, the party finds a dock, identical to the ones found on the first two islands.

There isn’t a path from the dock, but there are numerous sets of animal tracks leading away from the beach across a grassy area and then into the woods towards the center of the island. Reyu bends to examine them more closely.

“What strange manner of beasts might we find here?” Anvil asks.

Reyu concludes her examination, and straightens. “I believe they are…” she trails off, almost apologetic, “sheep.”

“Sheep?”

She nods.

“Well,” Eva says with a resigned sigh, “let’s see if they want to kill us and take our stuff too.”

###

The party sets out into the woods. The undergrowth is not particularly lush or thick. There do not seem to be an overabundance of streams or ponds. When nearly half an hour of easy walking passes without anything unexpected happening, most members of the party are just about ready to leap out of their skins.

Thatch stops short. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Kiara squeaks.

“That rustling sound.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

Reyu stares intently into the surrounding woods. “I did.”

By this time, everyone has stopped, and soon the rustling noise becomes obvious, speeding up and growing nearer by the second.

The group quickly makes a defensive circle, swords out, spells readied. This time they aren’t going to be taken unprepared.

The rustling grows nearer, nearer, and then suddenly, the source appears.

It’s a little man, no more than three feet high, with a scraggly unkempt beard, and equally untamed hair sticking out at wild angles from his slightly balding head. Aside from the fact that he is somewhat less ostentatiously dressed than their former companion and is brandishing a small wooden spear, he looks like nothing so much as Hue’s cousin.

The party stands there mute, blinking in astonishment.

For a few seconds, the little man does too. Then, he lowers his spear, and smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says. “You aren’t sheep.”

Part the One-Hundred Eighty-Sixth
In which: we come to know more about the Isle of Hues.

“Hi!” the man says. “You’re not sheep.”

By this time, several more hunters have emerged from the surrounding woods, all bearing sharpened sticks.

It would be more threatening if any of the hunters were more than three and a half feet high, and if fewer of them were smiling. Or if any of the sticks were really all that sharp.

It takes a moment for anyone in the party to find their tongue.

“Umm… No we’re not.”

“Then who are you?” the little man asks.

“I am Anvil the Just.” Anvil replies. “Who are you?”

“Philinimbram Nacklebarren,” he says with a grin.

“Huh wha?” says Eva, echoing the sentiment of much of the party.

“Philinimbram Nacklebarren,” the man repeats. It doesn’t sound any more probable the second time around.

Anvil, however, is undeterred by the man’s daunting appellation. “We are seeking the most powerful wizard in the Halmae. Do you know this individual?”

“Nope,” Philinimbram replies brightly. The others shake their heads as well.

“Do you know anyone who might?” Reyu presses.

The man thinks for a moment. “Well, we can always ask Granny. She might know.” The rest of his group nod quickly in agreement and there is some chatter to the effect that this is certain to be the case.

“Is she a wise woman?”

“She should be. She’s our Elder.”

“Elder?” Eva asks. “How old is she?”

“Old,” Philinimbram says, nodding sagely. “She’s over 300.”

“300 years?” Lira lets out a low whistle. She gives Reyu a sidelong smile. “That’s old even by your standards.”

“Indeed,” Reyu replies.

Philinimbram hurries to correct the party’s misunderstanding. “300 years!? No, no. Granny’s 300 <b>months</b> old.” Then, as Lira’s words fully register, he gapes wide-eyed at the party. “300 years? Wow. Do you really live that long?”

“Well,” Eva mutters, “I don’t.”

###

Philinimbram Nacklebarren leads the way back to his village. As they walk, Thatch gets a chance to ask a question that has been nagging at him ever since he met Hue that night in the woods so many months ago.

“So, what do you call yourselves?” he asks.

“By our names, usually,” he answers.

“No,” Thatch, struggles to clarify. “What do you call a whole group of people like you, collectively?”

“Oh,” Philinimbram replies, realizing what the fighter is after. “People.”

“People?”

“Yeah.”

“But,” Thatch shakes his head, “we’re people.”

“No you’re not,” Philinimbram says, laughing. “You’re big feets.”

“Big feets?”

“Sure,” he replies, pointing to Thatch’s—admittedly rather large—examples.

“Are there other big feets here?” Lira asks, hiding a smile at Thatch’s consternation.

“Sometimes,” the small man allows. “You’re the first ones we’ve really met. Most of the time we just see your tracks.”

The party also asks their guide about the symbol they’ve seen repeatedly on or near creatures on the other islands.

“Do you know it?” Reyu asks, sketching the figure in the dirt.

“Of course,” Philinimbram answers with his usual enthusiasm. “It’s our clan symbol.”

“Your clan symbol?”

“Sure.” The man pulls up his sleeve to show the same symbol Reyu has sketched on the ground tattooed on the back of his shoulder.

“Where did you get that?” Reyu asks.

“I’ve always had it.”

“It’s a birthmark?”

“Oh no. It’s this thing called a tattoo. It’s kind of complicated, but you take a special kind of dye and some needles, and--”

“I… am aware of the process,” Reyu says.

“Oh.” Philinimbram seems almost disappointed that he can’t finish sharing his wealth of information.

Reyu and Thatch exchange a look. Yep. It’s just like having Hue back.

At last the group arrives at Philinimbram’s village. According to Philinimbram—who the party has no reason to doubt—it is the only settlement on the island, and the residents are quite proud of it.

The hues—as the party has started referring to the little people—live in burrows which are mostly underground, but with windows cut into the upper stories. It is from these windows, doorways, and the occasional tree trunk that many residents are now gawking at the newcomers.

Thatch does his best not to stare back. Anvil surveys his observers without self-consciousness, and notes with approval that all of the residents are dressed in simple woolen garments; it would seem that no part of the sheep is wasted.

Lira nudges Eva as she spots a cluster of children watching them from underneath a bush. As the youngest child in her family, she’s never been overly fond of the word “moppet” but it’s certainly the term that leaps to mind. The little ones are adorable, barely knee-high even to her. One brushes a lock of hair out of her face, and Lira is forced to wonder if she and her friends are that amazed by the appearance of the mythical big feets, or if their eyes take up half their faces normally.

Philinimbram walks up to the door of one such burrow and knocks loudly on the door. “Granny!” he calls out. “There are big feets here to see you!”

Eva looks around. If there was anyone in the village who was not peeking out behind something to stare at them before, there isn’t now.

A thin, elderly voice comes out in response to Philinimbram’s call. “Who’s that?”

“It’s Philinimbram! With big feets!”

A pause.

“Well, come in.”

The members of the party examine the tiny door of the burrow skeptically.

“It would be better if you could come out,” Anvil calls back.

“I can’t hear you! You’ll have to come in. I’m a little hard of hearing.”

“Come. Out.” Anvil shouts.

“There’s no need to shout. Come in,” Granny’s voice comes back.

Thatch wanders down the length of the burrow until he comes to a window. Inside, is a comfortable-looking, if primitively furnished, room with a tiny, ancient woman sitting on a wooden chair, knitting.

“We can’t,” he answers her. “We don’t fit.”

“Boddiwerble?” the woman looks up, startled. “Where have you been?” Then, almost as an afterthought, “Did you bring those muffins from your mother like I asked?”

“Umm…”

Eventually, Philinimbram convinces Granny to come out of her burrow, and she and Anvil have a protracted discussion. It’s protracted mostly because she keeps thinking that Anvil is an individual by the name of Dimpleglim and Anvil keeps correcting her misapprehension.

“Do you know a great wizard who lives in these islands?”

“I did once. I saved the stones to make a rattle for my granddaughter.”

“No, not a great gizzard. A great wizard.”

“You should know to leave lizards alone, Dimpleglim.”

“You think I am an individual who I am not.”

“What?”

“I am not Dimpleglim.”

“Of course not, you look nothing like him.”

And so on around again. Eventually, the rest of the party wanders off and leaves Anvil to handle the conversation. Anvil is certainly capable of doing so, his resolution and unflappability matched only by Granny’s dottiness.

After standing and talking quietly among themselves for some minutes, the rest of the group eventually notices two of the village children quietly creeping towards them.

Reyu crouches down to their level, and smiles.

“Come here,” she beckons.

They freeze in their tracks.

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”

Eventually, she coaxes the pair, and a half dozen other children, into a rough semi-circle, although they refuse to get closer than twenty feet.

“Now,” she tells them. “Watch carefully.”

And before their very eyes, Reyu wildshapes into a golden eagle. She takes to the air easily and flies a lazy circle above the village before coming back to the common, shifting back into elven form just as her feet touch the ground.

The children stand transfixed in place, jaws hanging open. One of them finally manages to close his mouth. He licks his lips nervously.

“W— Will you come to the party tonight?”

Reyu smiles. “I would be honored. Can I bring my friends?”

The child eyes the rest of the party warily, then nods.

“What sort of the party is it?”

He swells visibly with pride, bringing him up to just above the level of Reyu’s knees. “It’s my birthday.”

“Not just yours,” another child objects. “It’s my birthday too.”

“And mine.”

“And mine!”

Suddenly, Reyu finds herself at the center of a swarm of children all clamoring that she should attend their birthdays too.

“Mine’s tomorrow night!”

“Mine’s the night after!”

“Mine’s next week!”

Reyu notices one little boy standing off to the side, kicking at the dirt.

“When’s your birthday?” she asks gently.

“Don’t have one now,” he mutters, barely audible under his breath.

“He’s a 31-er!” one of tonight’s birthday boys proclaims.

“Yeah! You’re a 31-er!” the others chant. “Ne ner ne ner ne ner!”

“That’s enough. That’s enough!” One of the adults comes bustling into the middle of the crowd, dispersing it and consoling the object of their derision. “You’ll have a birthday next month,” she consoles him.

DM’s Sidebar: The Hues

So, there I was, working on developing the details on gnome—er, I mean hueish culture, and I happened to notice that they lived to be over 300. And I thought, what the hey? Why is it that everyone but half-orcs lives longer than humans? This is just nonsense. So I decided that gnom—er, hues didn’t live to be over 300 years. They lived to be over 300 months.

It did not take a whole lot of further thought in that direction to realize that, for a population of, say, 100 hues, they must have multiple birthday parties *every night*.

Which, of course, immediately led to the plight of the poor 31ers, who only have seven birthdays a year instead of the usual twelve. It’s considered very bad luck to be born a 31er. After all, they always die so young…

It also follows that, in a society where birthdays are a daily occurrence, age is of great importance. Hence the village Elder, who, by definition, is always the oldest person in the clan. Which means that the leader of the hues is, typically, quite senile.

I love the hues.

Click to expand...