BSF
Explorer
Night settles across the grassy plain. A breeze causes the grass to bend and weave in a graceful evening dance. The Seekers of Legend settle into a small hollow beneath a couple of trees. The temperature begins its slow nighttime dip as blankets and bedrolls are snuggled into. No fire is lit to warm the chill air as it may also attract unwanted notice. Li and Ceru take positions at the edge of the hollow, trying to blend in with the trees as best as they can. Their watchful gaze sweeps across the waving grass, searching for signs of approaching threats and keeping their companions safe.
In an ancient, but remarkably intact manor, a one-armed woman and one-armed boy settle in to rest. The wind brushing past a hundred thousand leaves of the orchard outside almost sounds like rain. The boy falls into a restless sleep while the woman gently caresses his head. She knows what bothers the boy, for she too fears to close her eyes. With sleep comes the sound of pounding drums and dancing feat as well as the cries of pain from others captured by the savage gnolls. All too often, she will awake with a start, the phantom thwack of an axe near her ear, or the phantom itch on an arm that is no longer there. The woman caresses the boys head as he whimpers and tears roll down her cheek. Sleep is no comfort in this deserted place.
Out West, in a small town on the plain, the council of a small town finally draws to an agreement with the leader of a company of hobgoblins. Refugees from gnoll attacks have passed through the town more frequently and the people fear they are soon to be targeted. The cost of the hobgoblin mercenaries is dear in coin. But what price can be placed on lives? So long as the fields are intact come spring, then the people will be able to feed themselves. By then, perhaps the gnolls will be done? Or maybe they will have been wiped out by something else? In the interim, the mercenaries are a stopgap measure. If the gnolls come, then they will have a fight on their hands.
A pack of shadows makes it's way eastward, toward the great river. They pad silently along, tongues wagging in the night. They stop at a small stream to drink. One of the wolves chases down a rabbit as a snack. Wolf looks behind him, to the West. The two-legged cub was torn, that much was sure. Would he seek to learn the secrets of his ancestors and track Wolf down? It is hard to tell with the two-leggeds. The forget so easily. But the two-legged wasn't there now and the pack had far to travel. Wolf still needed to bargain with the River Spirit for crossing and it would be best to do that before the snows fell. With a howl, Wolf called the others to him and began trotting eastward again.
In the streets of Stormhaven, another shadow presses against the wall of an alley. A rich foreigner steps along the street. The thief has seen the strange man pass by for the past several days. His silken clothing seems to indicate that the fancy sword at his side is more for show than use. As Wu Cho passes the alley, the thief jumps out and strikes. The sound of tearing silk rips through the air as Wu Cho avoids a strike that would be lethal to others. The thief grunts in surprise, but before he can strike again, a foot hits his solar plexus. Following that is a fist to the throat. Staggering backward, the surprised thief lunges forward with his sword. Wu Cho glides nimbly to the side, easily avoiding the clumsy strike. Taking advantage of the would-be mugger's lack of balance, Wu Cho unleashes a string of rapid kicks into his attacker's ribs. The man finally falls to the ground, battered but breathing. With a whistle, Wu Cho calls the watch to round up the thief. Continuing on his way back home, he reflects that he is losing his edge. If the thief had been a yuan-ti agent, he would be lying dead in the street. It is time to hone his skills so he can be of use when he returns to his homeland. Idly, he wonders what Li Xian Gao is doing.
Elsewhere in Stormhaven, a small group of people meet in a dark and shadowy room. The topic of discussion if Casatanamir's Isle. The first expedition confirmed that the Isle did exist. The human rogue's story was hard to believe, so a second expedition was sent. Communications with that group have abruptly ended. The small group discusses what their next plan of action should be. If Castanamir's Isle really exists, then perhaps the key does as well. The key could unlock great pathways and would propel the One and Three into positions of great power. Late into the evening, they discuss their options.
Far to the North, Sheila Honeybaker stands at the window of her workroom, overlooking the city of Greerson. She can dimly see the Shrine of Heroes with Korliss the sword within. It has stood there for nearly a millenia, protecting the small nation. In her hands is a parchment with drying ink. This is the third letter this month she has written to a mother wondering when her son or daughter might return home. This is the third letter this month that Sheila has written to explain that somebody's child has inexplicably disappeared while on patrol. Compassion and pain grip her heart. She knows what it means to lose a loved one. Her mother and father were both lost protecting Greerson. It is hard not to be bitter about that, but they both died protecting something they believed in. Perhaps that knowledge will relieve a grieving mother as well as it did a grieving daughter? Sheila shakes her head. No, finding out why her Forest Runners are disappearing is the best salve for that sort of wound. Resolutely, she sits down and begins to plot out a plan of action for the next day.
In the woods Northwest of Greerson, some figures shamble out of the trees into a clearing. Their skin is hanging loosely as they look about the clearing with feral, hungry eyes. Risen dead, looking for life that they can snuff out of existance. Foul mockeries of that which was once living. There is nobody in the area to check their predations. Fortunately, there are not many people living this far from Greerson. Trade caravans from the mountains have slowed since the battle with the giants renewed.
Somewhere, someplace, an emerald green dragon slumbers. In his dreams, he roves the world wide. Always seeking with a hunger and thirst that most creatures associate with the need for food and drink. But this dragon hunts for something different, something more. In his dreams, he seeks secrets and knowledge, as well as annoyances.
Snow falls in the mountains. Keldorn has been hiking for days with the Thurgon. Even with his training, he has trouble keeping pace with the Sons of Stone. In their own way, they grant him a grudging respect. The rangers from Greerson have endurance as well, but they do not understand the value of solid armor and the reassuring weight of a powerful weapon. This human, Keldorn, does appreciate such things. The group stops outside a small outpost and Malrik appraoches Keldorn. "Rest a short time young one. I can smell giant in the air and they will soon attack here. The Son of Clay priest has foretold as much." Malrik's armor is solid and has a dull hue. Adamtine is what the Thurgon have called it. Keldorn catches his breath and waits by Malrik's side. Soon, he notes a steady thudding. He looks at Malrik with slit eyes.
"Giants young one. Very near."
Even as Malrik speaks, Keldorn sees an enormous head appear over a nearby rise. An arrow nearly as long as a spear shatters on the rock near them. Malrik smiles grimly and raises his shield.
"Prepare young one, the fight begins!"
In a small hollow, beneath a couple of trees, the Seekers of Legend rest. Li and Ceru gaze across the grassy plain. Settled in her bedroll, Ayla dreams...
In an ancient, but remarkably intact manor, a one-armed woman and one-armed boy settle in to rest. The wind brushing past a hundred thousand leaves of the orchard outside almost sounds like rain. The boy falls into a restless sleep while the woman gently caresses his head. She knows what bothers the boy, for she too fears to close her eyes. With sleep comes the sound of pounding drums and dancing feat as well as the cries of pain from others captured by the savage gnolls. All too often, she will awake with a start, the phantom thwack of an axe near her ear, or the phantom itch on an arm that is no longer there. The woman caresses the boys head as he whimpers and tears roll down her cheek. Sleep is no comfort in this deserted place.
Out West, in a small town on the plain, the council of a small town finally draws to an agreement with the leader of a company of hobgoblins. Refugees from gnoll attacks have passed through the town more frequently and the people fear they are soon to be targeted. The cost of the hobgoblin mercenaries is dear in coin. But what price can be placed on lives? So long as the fields are intact come spring, then the people will be able to feed themselves. By then, perhaps the gnolls will be done? Or maybe they will have been wiped out by something else? In the interim, the mercenaries are a stopgap measure. If the gnolls come, then they will have a fight on their hands.
A pack of shadows makes it's way eastward, toward the great river. They pad silently along, tongues wagging in the night. They stop at a small stream to drink. One of the wolves chases down a rabbit as a snack. Wolf looks behind him, to the West. The two-legged cub was torn, that much was sure. Would he seek to learn the secrets of his ancestors and track Wolf down? It is hard to tell with the two-leggeds. The forget so easily. But the two-legged wasn't there now and the pack had far to travel. Wolf still needed to bargain with the River Spirit for crossing and it would be best to do that before the snows fell. With a howl, Wolf called the others to him and began trotting eastward again.
In the streets of Stormhaven, another shadow presses against the wall of an alley. A rich foreigner steps along the street. The thief has seen the strange man pass by for the past several days. His silken clothing seems to indicate that the fancy sword at his side is more for show than use. As Wu Cho passes the alley, the thief jumps out and strikes. The sound of tearing silk rips through the air as Wu Cho avoids a strike that would be lethal to others. The thief grunts in surprise, but before he can strike again, a foot hits his solar plexus. Following that is a fist to the throat. Staggering backward, the surprised thief lunges forward with his sword. Wu Cho glides nimbly to the side, easily avoiding the clumsy strike. Taking advantage of the would-be mugger's lack of balance, Wu Cho unleashes a string of rapid kicks into his attacker's ribs. The man finally falls to the ground, battered but breathing. With a whistle, Wu Cho calls the watch to round up the thief. Continuing on his way back home, he reflects that he is losing his edge. If the thief had been a yuan-ti agent, he would be lying dead in the street. It is time to hone his skills so he can be of use when he returns to his homeland. Idly, he wonders what Li Xian Gao is doing.
Elsewhere in Stormhaven, a small group of people meet in a dark and shadowy room. The topic of discussion if Casatanamir's Isle. The first expedition confirmed that the Isle did exist. The human rogue's story was hard to believe, so a second expedition was sent. Communications with that group have abruptly ended. The small group discusses what their next plan of action should be. If Castanamir's Isle really exists, then perhaps the key does as well. The key could unlock great pathways and would propel the One and Three into positions of great power. Late into the evening, they discuss their options.
Far to the North, Sheila Honeybaker stands at the window of her workroom, overlooking the city of Greerson. She can dimly see the Shrine of Heroes with Korliss the sword within. It has stood there for nearly a millenia, protecting the small nation. In her hands is a parchment with drying ink. This is the third letter this month she has written to a mother wondering when her son or daughter might return home. This is the third letter this month that Sheila has written to explain that somebody's child has inexplicably disappeared while on patrol. Compassion and pain grip her heart. She knows what it means to lose a loved one. Her mother and father were both lost protecting Greerson. It is hard not to be bitter about that, but they both died protecting something they believed in. Perhaps that knowledge will relieve a grieving mother as well as it did a grieving daughter? Sheila shakes her head. No, finding out why her Forest Runners are disappearing is the best salve for that sort of wound. Resolutely, she sits down and begins to plot out a plan of action for the next day.
In the woods Northwest of Greerson, some figures shamble out of the trees into a clearing. Their skin is hanging loosely as they look about the clearing with feral, hungry eyes. Risen dead, looking for life that they can snuff out of existance. Foul mockeries of that which was once living. There is nobody in the area to check their predations. Fortunately, there are not many people living this far from Greerson. Trade caravans from the mountains have slowed since the battle with the giants renewed.
Somewhere, someplace, an emerald green dragon slumbers. In his dreams, he roves the world wide. Always seeking with a hunger and thirst that most creatures associate with the need for food and drink. But this dragon hunts for something different, something more. In his dreams, he seeks secrets and knowledge, as well as annoyances.
Snow falls in the mountains. Keldorn has been hiking for days with the Thurgon. Even with his training, he has trouble keeping pace with the Sons of Stone. In their own way, they grant him a grudging respect. The rangers from Greerson have endurance as well, but they do not understand the value of solid armor and the reassuring weight of a powerful weapon. This human, Keldorn, does appreciate such things. The group stops outside a small outpost and Malrik appraoches Keldorn. "Rest a short time young one. I can smell giant in the air and they will soon attack here. The Son of Clay priest has foretold as much." Malrik's armor is solid and has a dull hue. Adamtine is what the Thurgon have called it. Keldorn catches his breath and waits by Malrik's side. Soon, he notes a steady thudding. He looks at Malrik with slit eyes.
"Giants young one. Very near."
Even as Malrik speaks, Keldorn sees an enormous head appear over a nearby rise. An arrow nearly as long as a spear shatters on the rock near them. Malrik smiles grimly and raises his shield.
"Prepare young one, the fight begins!"
In a small hollow, beneath a couple of trees, the Seekers of Legend rest. Li and Ceru gaze across the grassy plain. Settled in her bedroll, Ayla dreams...
