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JollyDoc's Serpent's Skull-updated 11/6/2011
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<blockquote data-quote="JollyDoc" data-source="post: 5694896" data-attributes="member: 9546"><p><strong>Bushido</strong></p><p></p><p>The dry savannah was like walking across a parched tongue. The constant flock of vultures that circled on the thermals was less than reassuring to the Bastards as they concentrated on simply putting one foot in front of the other. As each hour passed, the number of birds grew larger, though they drew no closer. As sunset approached, however, two much larger birds joined the flock. </p><p>“Geiers,” Nkechi said as he peered at them through Jack’s spyglass. “They’re decidedly more aggressive than their smaller cousins.”</p><p>“I guess that’s why they’re getting closer,” Zavasta observed. </p><p>As the giant vultures circled lower, the companions could make out their bald, bloody-looking heads…just before they dove in for the attack. </p><p></p><p>The first one hit Gorak like a bomb, its hooked beak tearing off a hunk of flesh as it passed. The second hit Nessalin, bowling the magus over and over as it beat at him with its filthy wings. Fortunately for the Bastards, the geiers turned out to be clumsy flyers. After their initial fly-bys, they landed awkwardly several yards away. Before they could get airborne again, Ishirou rushed them, his katana slashing across the wing of the nearest, insuring it would never fly again. The second bird lowered its head and charged towards the old man, its wings beating up a cloud of dust. Before it reached him, however, the lumbering form of Agnar’s chemosit skeleton reared up in front of it. The undead behemoth snatched the bird up in its arms and began to squeeze. As the geier’s bones began to snap, Gorak finished it off with a merciful swing of his sword. Nessalin did the same for the remaining bird, his scimitar trailing a combination of fire and electricity.</p><p></p><p>Agnar circled one of the corpses, nodding to himself with his chin pensively in his hand. </p><p>“Yes,” he said. “I think this will do nicely. I’ve always wanted to fly…,” </p><p>___________________________________________________________</p><p></p><p></p><p>As the travelling companions finally drew near to Kalabuto, they came upon a tall and leafless boab tree standing alone in a clearing, its wood burnt black. A circle of tiny bones surrounded the tree, and over a dozen human bodies hung from the branches, making grisly silhouettes against the blue sky. More bodies lay on the ground at the base of the tree. </p><p>“It’s a gallows tree,” Nkechi said grimly. “The warriors of the Mzali create them to instill terror in their neighbors.”</p><p>“I’d say it’s pretty effective,” Jack agreed.</p><p>“The Mzali hate all who are not Mwangi, and most who are. They are isolationists, and very war-like. We will be safe this near to Kalabuto, but once we are beyond its borders, we will need to be vigilant.”</p><p></p><p>The Bastards moved past the grisly tableau, but as they did, the dangling bodies began to rustle and stir. Very quickly, they started jerking and moaning at the ends of their nooses, while at the same time, the corpses on the ground rose shambling to their feet.</p><p>“You have to admire their artistry,” Agnar shook his head ruefully.</p><p>In a matter of moments, almost two dozen of the walking dead came lurching towards the companions. The outcome was never in doubt. Though overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the fetid, plague-ridden zombies, the Bastards fought as a well-trained unit. Within minutes, they cut down the undead like wheat sheaves, putting them to rest once and for all.</p><p>____________________________________________________________</p><p></p><p></p><p>Surrounded by pineapple fields and date palm orchards, the city of Kalabuto perched atop a low hill overlooking the River of Lost Tears. An ancient pile of vine-choked, crumbling ruins, the city appeared to be overgrown by the jungle, with a large collection of shanties and warehouses along the riverbank. A snaking boardwalk connected the city to an elaborate tangle of docks. Warehouses made up the bulk of the structures along the water’s edge, while further inland, the ruins of the original city began, climbing up the hill to the more lavish private colonial residences. Dozens of small kiosks lined the riverside boardwalk, and eager-eyed youths scampered about peddling wares as the Bastards entered the town. Wisely, Agnar instructed his undead minions to wait in the jungle beyond the city outskirts, and Nkechi also decided to remain outside, claiming that so many people made him claustrophobic. </p><p></p><p>The companions had been in the city less than ten minutes before they were approached by a young Zenj girl carrying a handful of small, hand-carved wooden fetishes.</p><p>“I’m Kibi!” she said smiling. “Buy my charms? They are good luck! Any jungle tribes that see them will know you as friends! You buy?”</p><p>“Sure kid, whatever,” Zavasta said, tossing a few copper coins at the girl, and then taking one of the charms.</p><p>“Thanks!” Kibi beamed. “You won’t regret it!”</p><p></p><p>The Shrunken Head tavern lay on a stretch of riverside boardwalk wedged between an exotic hardwoods warehouse and a small copper foundry. The tavern’s ground floor sat upon old stone ruins, while the remainder of the structure had a wood frame and plank walls. Inside, customers crowded the dimly lit hall. A haze of smoke from guttering tallow candles filled the room, and on every table, dark-skinned dancing girls dressed in brightly colored veils worked the house, occasionally dipping into the pockets of leering patrons. A brawny dwarf sat by himself at a large table near the bar. The tattoo on his shoulder identified him as Cheiton, the contact the Bastards had been instructed to meet. What the Bastards failed to notice, however, was Kibi, who stood in an alley across the street from the tavern, watching as the companions went inside. Once they were out of sight, she vanished back into the crowd. </p><p>“Glad to see you made it,” Cheiton nodded as the travelers joined him at his table. </p><p>“It wasn’t easy,” Zavasta sneered.</p><p>“Well, you’ll be glad to know you’re about half-way to your destination,” the dwarf chuckled. “Now, being that this is a rather public venue, what say we take this conversation somewhere a bit more private? My place is just a couple of blocks over.”</p><p></p><p>Cheiton lived in a two-story house a short walk from the Shrunken Head. He had three guest rooms on the ground floor, which he made available to the companions. Though curious to hear of their adventures, he quickly set about helping them plan for the next phase of their journey. His contacts in Kalabuto would allow him to arrange any supplies they might need. He warned them that once they left Kalabuto and crossed the Mwangi border, they would have to be on constant alert for foreign tribes, such as the xenophobic cult-warriors of the Mzali, the cannibalistic fey Eloko of the Screaming Jungle, and the degenerate, demon-worshiping ape-men known as the charau-ka. He advised them to complete their business in town quickly, and be on their way. The companions agreed that they would leave the following evening under cover of darkness.</p><p>__________________________________________________________</p><p></p><p></p><p>That night, the group decided to post a rotating watch, being a bit paranoid about being exposed in town. Agnar, Jack, Zavasta and Gorak took the first shift. A fearsome group, to be sure, but, as they soon discovered, sheer strength of arms was not always the decisive factor in a battle. Often, it was the element of surprise. None of them heard the windows slowly being raised in the front room, nor the soft footsteps of padded boots on the floorboards. Of course, none of them saw their assailants either until it was much too late, since the trespassers had the foresight to bring invisibility potions with them. When the assailants sprang their ambush, it was with their blades thrust through the backs of each of the watchers. Adding insult to injury was the fact that the assassins’ blades were poisoned, and the venom paralyzed Gorak as he collapsed to the floor.</p><p></p><p>Down the hall, Nessalin was still awake, poring over his spell books, so it was he that first heard the tell-tale sounds of battle. In another of the guest rooms, however, Arioch was a light sleeper. The summoner didn’t even bother to find out what was going on. He just conjured a giant constrictor snake into the room with him. It never hurt to be prepared. </p><p></p><p>Zavasta was the first to recover from the sneak attack, and the alchemist, to his credit, did not react true to form. Instead of lobbing a fire bomb and setting the whole house ablaze, he had the presence of mind to instead pluck a vial of acid from his pouch and hurled that at the large man looming over him. As the bomb struck, covering the assassin in caustic fluid, he screamed horribly as his flesh began to dissolve. Despite his agony, however, he still managed to drive his blade into the alchemist’s shoulder, pinning him to the floor. A pair of the thugs flanked Agnar and took turns stabbing him repeatedly. Within seconds, the priest went down. The last of the assassins stood over Gorak, the big barbarian helpless on the floor at his feet. He raised his sword, then flipped it to the flat and brought it down solidly on Gorak’s head.</p><p></p><p>Arioch threw open the door to his room, letting the serpent loose into the hallway. He followed that by summoning a leopard, the light of Hell in its eyes. The fiendish cat leaped upon the nearest assassin, clawing and raking at the man as it bore him to the ground. One of his compatriots leaped to his defense, hacking and slashing at the leopard, while the other two chopped the giant snake to pieces. Jack leaped at the thugs, but received a shiv in the gut for his trouble. As he fell back, his attacker advanced, meaning to finish him off. A moment later, however, the man’s eyes went wide and his hair began to smoke as the point of Nessalin’s scimitar erupted out of his chest crackling with electricity.</p><p></p><p>Arioch began another summoning, calling a quartet of earth elementals that erupted out of the floor. They swarmed the assassins, giving the Bastards still standing some breathing room. In that interval, Gorak finally came out of his paralysis. Battered and bleeding, he swung wildly at the thug who’d been intent on cracking his skull, driving the man back and straight into the waiting paws of the leopard. The cat grabbed the man from behind, clamping its jaws down on his shoulder. Then Ishirou was there, opening the assassin’s belly with his katana. The remaining two assailants saw that the tide had shifted against them, and began making a fighting retreat towards the front door. Unfortunately for them, the elementals were faster. They brought down one under a flurry of earthen fists, and Nessalin finished off the last of them with another electric flourish of his scimitar.</p><p></p><p>Gradually, those still conscious helped the wounded to their feet and tended their injuries. Cheiton had several healing potions stockpiled, and he offered them freely. He then turned to searching the bodies of the intruders.</p><p>“Well, well,” he said as he stood, a strange item in his hand. “I guess this explains things.”</p><p>What he held up was a wayfinder, identifying the assassins as agents of the Pathfinders.</p><p>“Let’s just be sure!” Agnar snarled.</p><p>The priest seized one of the corpses, chanting a guttural prayer as he did so.</p><p>“Who sent you?” he growled into the dead thug’s face.</p><p>“Don’t…know…name…,” the corpse’s jaw worked. “Gnome…dressed…funny. Bad…jokes…,”</p><p>“I knew it!” Agnar spat. “Gelik!”</p><p>“I recommend you folks don’t wait around for tomorrow to make yourselves scarce,” Cheiton advised.</p><p>“I think you’re right,” Arioch agreed.</p><p>__________________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>The group set out immediately, and by dawn, they had officially left Sargavan lands. They followed the River of Lost Tears until they reached a huge freshwater lake known as the Lake of Vanishing Armies. Dozens of tribal settlements lined the muddy banks of both the river and the lake. The villagers were eager to accommodate travelers into their homes, and offered them all sorts of gifts ranging from exotic foods to mystic drugs, and occasionally their companionship. During their interactions with the tribesfolk, the Bastards heard local legends of a monstrous beast called Aomak, said to live within the lake. The tales described a titanic, saurian monster that devoured fishermen and their boats. One village offered a treasure map to the sunken hulk of a Sargavan vessel in the waters off the northern shore of the lake, in exchange for a few basic supplies. Against Nkechi’s advice, the companions took the map and bartered for a longboat as well. Their junket was not uneventful. Although they did not find Aomak, they did encounter one of its spawn, a young elasmosaurus. The creature surfaced beneath them, capsizing their boat. It was only with the aid of Arioch’s summoned elementals, mud and water, that the creature was eventually destroyed. The Bastards found the sunken treasure, such as it was, managed to right their vessel, and towed the monster’s carcass back to shore. The villagers celebrated with a great feast that evening.</p><p>__________________________________________________________</p><p></p><p></p><p>Soon after leaving the Lake of Vanished Armies, the Bastards came to the junction of the Pasuango and Korir Rivers. The crossing, though shallow, looked treacherous, with rapid currents and many sharp, jagged rocks. Agnar scrambled onto the back of his undead geier, and began ferrying his companions across to the other side. He’d managed to get Gorak, Lyrissa, Zavasta and Arioch across when the attack came. On the near side of the river, where Nkechi, Jack, Ishirou and Nessalin still waited, a flurry of arrows suddenly erupted from the trees on either side of them. Each of them was struck, and when the arrows hit, they seemed to flare like acid in their flesh. </p><p>“Mzali!” Nkechi shouted in warning, and then the priest ran stumbling towards the river, chanting a spell as he went. A cloud of opaque mist sprang up around him, concealing him from view from the attackers. Jack was no more than a half step behind Nkechi, and when he reached the river’s edge, the rogue leaped, clearing the expanse in a single bound, and tumbling to his feet on the far shore. </p><p></p><p>Arioch saw the Mzali warriors moving out of the trees, already fitting arrows to their bowstrings for a second volley. He began a summoning, and on the opposite shore, a short, squat creature suddenly appeared. It was a dretch demon, a disgusting fiend with a round, bloated body and thing, gangly limbs. It waved its gnarled hands at the two nearest warriors, and a cloud of noxious, yellow-green gas erupted around them. One of them immediately doubled over, retching and gagging, while the other sprinted towards the dretch, pulling an axe from off of his back and hacking viciously at the little demon. Meanwhile, the other two Mzali loosed their arrows. The first struck Nessalin as he dove towards Nkechi’s concealing mist, setting his leg on fire with pain. The second arrow was more accurate. It took Ishirou through the throat. The Tian man stumbled, clutching weakly at the shaft before he fell face first to the ground, unmoving. </p><p></p><p>“Get me over there!” Gorak growled at Agnar.</p><p>The dark priest directed his zombified bird up, and it seized the barbarian in its talons as it flapped back across the river. Before it could even reach the ground, Gorak wrenched himself free and dropped. As he landed, a snarling leopard suddenly appeared from thin air beside him, courtesy of Arioch. The big cat hurtled across the ground between it and the nearest Mzali in seconds, and then launched itself tooth and claw at the man, tearing his throat out as it took him down. Gorak, not to be outdone, roared his own battle cry and charged towards the warrior that emerged from the stinking cloud, still vomiting. The barbarian eased the man’s nausea by disemboweling him. The leopard was on the move again, sprinting across the clearing and disposing of another of the Mzali. The last of the warriors, as he turned back towards the trees to retreat, suddenly exploded into flames as Zavasta hurled a bomb from the far side of the river.</p><p>___________________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>Nkechi limped back to Ishirou’s side, but it was too late. The valiant warrior was dead. The Bastards gathered solemnly around his body, everyone at a loss for words. Finally, Jack drew his saber and began digging in the soft soil of the river bank until he’d made a deep enough hole. He lowered Ishirou’s body into it, and covered it back over. Then, as Nkechi spoke a prayer in his native tongue, Jack thrust Ishirou’s katana in the earth, marking the plot as the final resting place of a samurai.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="JollyDoc, post: 5694896, member: 9546"] [b]Bushido[/b] The dry savannah was like walking across a parched tongue. The constant flock of vultures that circled on the thermals was less than reassuring to the Bastards as they concentrated on simply putting one foot in front of the other. As each hour passed, the number of birds grew larger, though they drew no closer. As sunset approached, however, two much larger birds joined the flock. “Geiers,” Nkechi said as he peered at them through Jack’s spyglass. “They’re decidedly more aggressive than their smaller cousins.” “I guess that’s why they’re getting closer,” Zavasta observed. As the giant vultures circled lower, the companions could make out their bald, bloody-looking heads…just before they dove in for the attack. The first one hit Gorak like a bomb, its hooked beak tearing off a hunk of flesh as it passed. The second hit Nessalin, bowling the magus over and over as it beat at him with its filthy wings. Fortunately for the Bastards, the geiers turned out to be clumsy flyers. After their initial fly-bys, they landed awkwardly several yards away. Before they could get airborne again, Ishirou rushed them, his katana slashing across the wing of the nearest, insuring it would never fly again. The second bird lowered its head and charged towards the old man, its wings beating up a cloud of dust. Before it reached him, however, the lumbering form of Agnar’s chemosit skeleton reared up in front of it. The undead behemoth snatched the bird up in its arms and began to squeeze. As the geier’s bones began to snap, Gorak finished it off with a merciful swing of his sword. Nessalin did the same for the remaining bird, his scimitar trailing a combination of fire and electricity. Agnar circled one of the corpses, nodding to himself with his chin pensively in his hand. “Yes,” he said. “I think this will do nicely. I’ve always wanted to fly…,” ___________________________________________________________ As the travelling companions finally drew near to Kalabuto, they came upon a tall and leafless boab tree standing alone in a clearing, its wood burnt black. A circle of tiny bones surrounded the tree, and over a dozen human bodies hung from the branches, making grisly silhouettes against the blue sky. More bodies lay on the ground at the base of the tree. “It’s a gallows tree,” Nkechi said grimly. “The warriors of the Mzali create them to instill terror in their neighbors.” “I’d say it’s pretty effective,” Jack agreed. “The Mzali hate all who are not Mwangi, and most who are. They are isolationists, and very war-like. We will be safe this near to Kalabuto, but once we are beyond its borders, we will need to be vigilant.” The Bastards moved past the grisly tableau, but as they did, the dangling bodies began to rustle and stir. Very quickly, they started jerking and moaning at the ends of their nooses, while at the same time, the corpses on the ground rose shambling to their feet. “You have to admire their artistry,” Agnar shook his head ruefully. In a matter of moments, almost two dozen of the walking dead came lurching towards the companions. The outcome was never in doubt. Though overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the fetid, plague-ridden zombies, the Bastards fought as a well-trained unit. Within minutes, they cut down the undead like wheat sheaves, putting them to rest once and for all. ____________________________________________________________ Surrounded by pineapple fields and date palm orchards, the city of Kalabuto perched atop a low hill overlooking the River of Lost Tears. An ancient pile of vine-choked, crumbling ruins, the city appeared to be overgrown by the jungle, with a large collection of shanties and warehouses along the riverbank. A snaking boardwalk connected the city to an elaborate tangle of docks. Warehouses made up the bulk of the structures along the water’s edge, while further inland, the ruins of the original city began, climbing up the hill to the more lavish private colonial residences. Dozens of small kiosks lined the riverside boardwalk, and eager-eyed youths scampered about peddling wares as the Bastards entered the town. Wisely, Agnar instructed his undead minions to wait in the jungle beyond the city outskirts, and Nkechi also decided to remain outside, claiming that so many people made him claustrophobic. The companions had been in the city less than ten minutes before they were approached by a young Zenj girl carrying a handful of small, hand-carved wooden fetishes. “I’m Kibi!” she said smiling. “Buy my charms? They are good luck! Any jungle tribes that see them will know you as friends! You buy?” “Sure kid, whatever,” Zavasta said, tossing a few copper coins at the girl, and then taking one of the charms. “Thanks!” Kibi beamed. “You won’t regret it!” The Shrunken Head tavern lay on a stretch of riverside boardwalk wedged between an exotic hardwoods warehouse and a small copper foundry. The tavern’s ground floor sat upon old stone ruins, while the remainder of the structure had a wood frame and plank walls. Inside, customers crowded the dimly lit hall. A haze of smoke from guttering tallow candles filled the room, and on every table, dark-skinned dancing girls dressed in brightly colored veils worked the house, occasionally dipping into the pockets of leering patrons. A brawny dwarf sat by himself at a large table near the bar. The tattoo on his shoulder identified him as Cheiton, the contact the Bastards had been instructed to meet. What the Bastards failed to notice, however, was Kibi, who stood in an alley across the street from the tavern, watching as the companions went inside. Once they were out of sight, she vanished back into the crowd. “Glad to see you made it,” Cheiton nodded as the travelers joined him at his table. “It wasn’t easy,” Zavasta sneered. “Well, you’ll be glad to know you’re about half-way to your destination,” the dwarf chuckled. “Now, being that this is a rather public venue, what say we take this conversation somewhere a bit more private? My place is just a couple of blocks over.” Cheiton lived in a two-story house a short walk from the Shrunken Head. He had three guest rooms on the ground floor, which he made available to the companions. Though curious to hear of their adventures, he quickly set about helping them plan for the next phase of their journey. His contacts in Kalabuto would allow him to arrange any supplies they might need. He warned them that once they left Kalabuto and crossed the Mwangi border, they would have to be on constant alert for foreign tribes, such as the xenophobic cult-warriors of the Mzali, the cannibalistic fey Eloko of the Screaming Jungle, and the degenerate, demon-worshiping ape-men known as the charau-ka. He advised them to complete their business in town quickly, and be on their way. The companions agreed that they would leave the following evening under cover of darkness. __________________________________________________________ That night, the group decided to post a rotating watch, being a bit paranoid about being exposed in town. Agnar, Jack, Zavasta and Gorak took the first shift. A fearsome group, to be sure, but, as they soon discovered, sheer strength of arms was not always the decisive factor in a battle. Often, it was the element of surprise. None of them heard the windows slowly being raised in the front room, nor the soft footsteps of padded boots on the floorboards. Of course, none of them saw their assailants either until it was much too late, since the trespassers had the foresight to bring invisibility potions with them. When the assailants sprang their ambush, it was with their blades thrust through the backs of each of the watchers. Adding insult to injury was the fact that the assassins’ blades were poisoned, and the venom paralyzed Gorak as he collapsed to the floor. Down the hall, Nessalin was still awake, poring over his spell books, so it was he that first heard the tell-tale sounds of battle. In another of the guest rooms, however, Arioch was a light sleeper. The summoner didn’t even bother to find out what was going on. He just conjured a giant constrictor snake into the room with him. It never hurt to be prepared. Zavasta was the first to recover from the sneak attack, and the alchemist, to his credit, did not react true to form. Instead of lobbing a fire bomb and setting the whole house ablaze, he had the presence of mind to instead pluck a vial of acid from his pouch and hurled that at the large man looming over him. As the bomb struck, covering the assassin in caustic fluid, he screamed horribly as his flesh began to dissolve. Despite his agony, however, he still managed to drive his blade into the alchemist’s shoulder, pinning him to the floor. A pair of the thugs flanked Agnar and took turns stabbing him repeatedly. Within seconds, the priest went down. The last of the assassins stood over Gorak, the big barbarian helpless on the floor at his feet. He raised his sword, then flipped it to the flat and brought it down solidly on Gorak’s head. Arioch threw open the door to his room, letting the serpent loose into the hallway. He followed that by summoning a leopard, the light of Hell in its eyes. The fiendish cat leaped upon the nearest assassin, clawing and raking at the man as it bore him to the ground. One of his compatriots leaped to his defense, hacking and slashing at the leopard, while the other two chopped the giant snake to pieces. Jack leaped at the thugs, but received a shiv in the gut for his trouble. As he fell back, his attacker advanced, meaning to finish him off. A moment later, however, the man’s eyes went wide and his hair began to smoke as the point of Nessalin’s scimitar erupted out of his chest crackling with electricity. Arioch began another summoning, calling a quartet of earth elementals that erupted out of the floor. They swarmed the assassins, giving the Bastards still standing some breathing room. In that interval, Gorak finally came out of his paralysis. Battered and bleeding, he swung wildly at the thug who’d been intent on cracking his skull, driving the man back and straight into the waiting paws of the leopard. The cat grabbed the man from behind, clamping its jaws down on his shoulder. Then Ishirou was there, opening the assassin’s belly with his katana. The remaining two assailants saw that the tide had shifted against them, and began making a fighting retreat towards the front door. Unfortunately for them, the elementals were faster. They brought down one under a flurry of earthen fists, and Nessalin finished off the last of them with another electric flourish of his scimitar. Gradually, those still conscious helped the wounded to their feet and tended their injuries. Cheiton had several healing potions stockpiled, and he offered them freely. He then turned to searching the bodies of the intruders. “Well, well,” he said as he stood, a strange item in his hand. “I guess this explains things.” What he held up was a wayfinder, identifying the assassins as agents of the Pathfinders. “Let’s just be sure!” Agnar snarled. The priest seized one of the corpses, chanting a guttural prayer as he did so. “Who sent you?” he growled into the dead thug’s face. “Don’t…know…name…,” the corpse’s jaw worked. “Gnome…dressed…funny. Bad…jokes…,” “I knew it!” Agnar spat. “Gelik!” “I recommend you folks don’t wait around for tomorrow to make yourselves scarce,” Cheiton advised. “I think you’re right,” Arioch agreed. __________________________________________________________ The group set out immediately, and by dawn, they had officially left Sargavan lands. They followed the River of Lost Tears until they reached a huge freshwater lake known as the Lake of Vanishing Armies. Dozens of tribal settlements lined the muddy banks of both the river and the lake. The villagers were eager to accommodate travelers into their homes, and offered them all sorts of gifts ranging from exotic foods to mystic drugs, and occasionally their companionship. During their interactions with the tribesfolk, the Bastards heard local legends of a monstrous beast called Aomak, said to live within the lake. The tales described a titanic, saurian monster that devoured fishermen and their boats. One village offered a treasure map to the sunken hulk of a Sargavan vessel in the waters off the northern shore of the lake, in exchange for a few basic supplies. Against Nkechi’s advice, the companions took the map and bartered for a longboat as well. Their junket was not uneventful. Although they did not find Aomak, they did encounter one of its spawn, a young elasmosaurus. The creature surfaced beneath them, capsizing their boat. It was only with the aid of Arioch’s summoned elementals, mud and water, that the creature was eventually destroyed. The Bastards found the sunken treasure, such as it was, managed to right their vessel, and towed the monster’s carcass back to shore. The villagers celebrated with a great feast that evening. __________________________________________________________ Soon after leaving the Lake of Vanished Armies, the Bastards came to the junction of the Pasuango and Korir Rivers. The crossing, though shallow, looked treacherous, with rapid currents and many sharp, jagged rocks. Agnar scrambled onto the back of his undead geier, and began ferrying his companions across to the other side. He’d managed to get Gorak, Lyrissa, Zavasta and Arioch across when the attack came. On the near side of the river, where Nkechi, Jack, Ishirou and Nessalin still waited, a flurry of arrows suddenly erupted from the trees on either side of them. Each of them was struck, and when the arrows hit, they seemed to flare like acid in their flesh. “Mzali!” Nkechi shouted in warning, and then the priest ran stumbling towards the river, chanting a spell as he went. A cloud of opaque mist sprang up around him, concealing him from view from the attackers. Jack was no more than a half step behind Nkechi, and when he reached the river’s edge, the rogue leaped, clearing the expanse in a single bound, and tumbling to his feet on the far shore. Arioch saw the Mzali warriors moving out of the trees, already fitting arrows to their bowstrings for a second volley. He began a summoning, and on the opposite shore, a short, squat creature suddenly appeared. It was a dretch demon, a disgusting fiend with a round, bloated body and thing, gangly limbs. It waved its gnarled hands at the two nearest warriors, and a cloud of noxious, yellow-green gas erupted around them. One of them immediately doubled over, retching and gagging, while the other sprinted towards the dretch, pulling an axe from off of his back and hacking viciously at the little demon. Meanwhile, the other two Mzali loosed their arrows. The first struck Nessalin as he dove towards Nkechi’s concealing mist, setting his leg on fire with pain. The second arrow was more accurate. It took Ishirou through the throat. The Tian man stumbled, clutching weakly at the shaft before he fell face first to the ground, unmoving. “Get me over there!” Gorak growled at Agnar. The dark priest directed his zombified bird up, and it seized the barbarian in its talons as it flapped back across the river. Before it could even reach the ground, Gorak wrenched himself free and dropped. As he landed, a snarling leopard suddenly appeared from thin air beside him, courtesy of Arioch. The big cat hurtled across the ground between it and the nearest Mzali in seconds, and then launched itself tooth and claw at the man, tearing his throat out as it took him down. Gorak, not to be outdone, roared his own battle cry and charged towards the warrior that emerged from the stinking cloud, still vomiting. The barbarian eased the man’s nausea by disemboweling him. The leopard was on the move again, sprinting across the clearing and disposing of another of the Mzali. The last of the warriors, as he turned back towards the trees to retreat, suddenly exploded into flames as Zavasta hurled a bomb from the far side of the river. ___________________________________________________________ Nkechi limped back to Ishirou’s side, but it was too late. The valiant warrior was dead. The Bastards gathered solemnly around his body, everyone at a loss for words. Finally, Jack drew his saber and began digging in the soft soil of the river bank until he’d made a deep enough hole. He lowered Ishirou’s body into it, and covered it back over. Then, as Nkechi spoke a prayer in his native tongue, Jack thrust Ishirou’s katana in the earth, marking the plot as the final resting place of a samurai. [/QUOTE]
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JollyDoc's Serpent's Skull-updated 11/6/2011
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