Haraash Saan
First Post
Over the last few months, perhaps since we originally had left Halfast, Argonne had been feeling that he was somehow in tune with the world. He said that it was as if he felt all the living things around him and he knew when things were not as they should be. As the weeks passed the feelings were more intense. He did not understand why he was feeling what he did or how it was that he felt it. It just was.
When we questioned him, rather directly I might add, about his miraculous transformation into the eagle he was no more confident of his answer.
“It was the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “I was inside that plant. I could feel it trying to swallow and then Zhontell managed to pry its mouth open and haul me out. And then I was different.”
“I felt different. The sky was my haven and I reached out to it. I flew to it. It was wonderful.” He said, eyes glossing over in reflection. “I knew I was an eagle and I knew that I should be an eagle. And then I spied the cat in some long grass by the side of the glade and realised that I needed to be me again, so I was.”
“I don’t know or understand what happened. But it did.” He continued. “I don’t know if it will happen again, but I most certainly hope it does.”
I was mesmerised by his tale. I could feel the freedom he felt and it hurt that I could not truly experience it.
There was a lot more to the young woodsman than perhaps even he had known.
Mortec’s shrill voice interrupted our conversation. “Come here! Look what I have done! I am brilliant indeed!” chirped the Gnome excitedly.
Although there was some moonlight it was still hard to make out what it was that he pointed to at his feet. The little fellow was so excited by whatever it was that he was dancing a little jig of joy around it.
I uttered some words of magic to conjure light and slowly but surely a tiny ball of faint light grew in my palm until it was the size of an orange. I directed the light the object.
It was a strange metal gauntlet with its fingers clenched into a fist. “Isn’t it beautiful?” cried out the exuberant Gnome.
We looked at each other skeptically wondering what it was that was so interesting about a stylised gauntlet.
Suddenly a massive crack of thunder sounded directly above us, and from the sky came a bolt of lightening! We dove for cover as it struck the gauntlet. I thanked Srcan for her blessing for I, and my companions were all unharmed by the lightening strike. The gauntlet seemed, other than a small wisp of grey smoke that curled up from it, also undamaged. I meticulously brushed myself off from the dirt and leaves that now clung to me as I stood.
Then suddenly the fingers of the metal glove creaked ominously open and I noticed a small forearm growing from out of the glove. As soon as the fingers of the gauntlet had completely uncurled the limb levitated into the air and floated toward a gleeful Mortec.
He thrust out his own stump so that it faced the flying limb. The forearm, as if sensing its target and intention, put on a burst of speed and slammed into the Gnome’s stump with slap of flesh, a crunch of bone and an accompanying scream from Mortec.
Such was the force of the blow that it knocked him down. But as he pulled himself up we saw, with amazement, that he pushed himself up he used the very hand and forearm that were now fused to his body.
Mortec had his arm back!
He explained, after our excitement died down, that ever since he lost his arm in the Games, he had been working on creating himself a replacement, and with the blessing of Todesmagie he had finally achieved his goal. He was once again a whole Gnome.
Wonders will never cease. A Gnome that makes himself replacement limbs, a mad black elf, a drug addict (Moxadder looked the most normal of the group!), a warrior of Thuus that is enslaved by a magical mask of Gerech, a strange and predominantly silent unarmed elf, a simple woodsman that turns into a bird and a dog that turns into ‘the greatest anything of his race’. How is it that I managed to mix with these very, very strange people?
That night I had drifted off into a deep and refreshing sleep. It was like none that I had ever experienced before, but when I woke to the pleasant calls of birds, I felt better than I had since I had left my comfortable apartment in Thessingcourt to journey to Halfast with Absquith.
The next day the strangeness continued. The birds I had heard on waking were not all that were about. Hundreds, nay, thousands of the forests natural denizens sat on the fringes of the clearing; bears, dear, rabbits, badgers, foxes and many more. All sat or lay around the edge of the clearing of the menhir and the great orange and black cat that lay near its base. They must have gathered during the night, although none of us had woken at their arrival. There was an unusual expectant air about them. Not a one of them paid us any heed, they all stared as one at the menhir. We broke our fast in silence. Truth be told we were frightened that we would attract the attention of the animals that surrounded us. As I ate I looked at the menhir trying to think of a stratagem that would break its bonds and release its secrets.
Mortec was the first to rise from our morning meal. He walked to his things that lay nearby. As he went past me I saw a steely look in his eye that complemented the grim look of determination that was set on his face. He stooped, not very far mind you, and retrieved his hammer, the very one that I used to break down the door when we were trapped in the pirate ship. The cat looked up curiously. The Gnome, now oblivious to the gathered horde, strode to the menhir and without breaking stride swung the hammer, with both hands, new and old. It struck one of the bands! The blow caused a loud ringing to be sounded, almost like a bell, but then the band broke and slid off the menhir!
I had known there was something unusual about the hammer when I myself had wielded it, but I had no idea that it was that strong!
With arrogant disdain (I actually believe he realised that he could not reach the top most bands to strike them), Mortec dropped the hammer at the base of the menhir and went back to finish his breakfast.
Argonne eagerly took up where Mortec had left off. And when it came to the last remaining band the sense of expectation in and around the clearing was at bursting point. The strange cat looked up in anticipation, the hammer fell, the final band shattered, its pieces falling to the ground.
Even as those last shards of metal fell to their resting place, a deafening cacophony of noise erupted from the assembled animals. It was if they were cheering. Bears growled, wolves howled and birds squawked and chirped.
The clearings’ orange and black striped guardian let out a massive roar that drowned out all of the other beasts and birds. They all stopped. All was quiet.
And then before our eyes the cat began to change. It shrank as it underwent its metamorphosis. Paws slowly formed hands and feet, fur turned to clothing (of a sort) and the beasts’ tail receded into its body. Before us was now hunched a man!
When we questioned him, rather directly I might add, about his miraculous transformation into the eagle he was no more confident of his answer.
“It was the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “I was inside that plant. I could feel it trying to swallow and then Zhontell managed to pry its mouth open and haul me out. And then I was different.”
“I felt different. The sky was my haven and I reached out to it. I flew to it. It was wonderful.” He said, eyes glossing over in reflection. “I knew I was an eagle and I knew that I should be an eagle. And then I spied the cat in some long grass by the side of the glade and realised that I needed to be me again, so I was.”
“I don’t know or understand what happened. But it did.” He continued. “I don’t know if it will happen again, but I most certainly hope it does.”
I was mesmerised by his tale. I could feel the freedom he felt and it hurt that I could not truly experience it.
There was a lot more to the young woodsman than perhaps even he had known.
Mortec’s shrill voice interrupted our conversation. “Come here! Look what I have done! I am brilliant indeed!” chirped the Gnome excitedly.
Although there was some moonlight it was still hard to make out what it was that he pointed to at his feet. The little fellow was so excited by whatever it was that he was dancing a little jig of joy around it.
I uttered some words of magic to conjure light and slowly but surely a tiny ball of faint light grew in my palm until it was the size of an orange. I directed the light the object.
It was a strange metal gauntlet with its fingers clenched into a fist. “Isn’t it beautiful?” cried out the exuberant Gnome.
We looked at each other skeptically wondering what it was that was so interesting about a stylised gauntlet.
Suddenly a massive crack of thunder sounded directly above us, and from the sky came a bolt of lightening! We dove for cover as it struck the gauntlet. I thanked Srcan for her blessing for I, and my companions were all unharmed by the lightening strike. The gauntlet seemed, other than a small wisp of grey smoke that curled up from it, also undamaged. I meticulously brushed myself off from the dirt and leaves that now clung to me as I stood.
Then suddenly the fingers of the metal glove creaked ominously open and I noticed a small forearm growing from out of the glove. As soon as the fingers of the gauntlet had completely uncurled the limb levitated into the air and floated toward a gleeful Mortec.
He thrust out his own stump so that it faced the flying limb. The forearm, as if sensing its target and intention, put on a burst of speed and slammed into the Gnome’s stump with slap of flesh, a crunch of bone and an accompanying scream from Mortec.
Such was the force of the blow that it knocked him down. But as he pulled himself up we saw, with amazement, that he pushed himself up he used the very hand and forearm that were now fused to his body.
Mortec had his arm back!
He explained, after our excitement died down, that ever since he lost his arm in the Games, he had been working on creating himself a replacement, and with the blessing of Todesmagie he had finally achieved his goal. He was once again a whole Gnome.
Wonders will never cease. A Gnome that makes himself replacement limbs, a mad black elf, a drug addict (Moxadder looked the most normal of the group!), a warrior of Thuus that is enslaved by a magical mask of Gerech, a strange and predominantly silent unarmed elf, a simple woodsman that turns into a bird and a dog that turns into ‘the greatest anything of his race’. How is it that I managed to mix with these very, very strange people?
That night I had drifted off into a deep and refreshing sleep. It was like none that I had ever experienced before, but when I woke to the pleasant calls of birds, I felt better than I had since I had left my comfortable apartment in Thessingcourt to journey to Halfast with Absquith.
The next day the strangeness continued. The birds I had heard on waking were not all that were about. Hundreds, nay, thousands of the forests natural denizens sat on the fringes of the clearing; bears, dear, rabbits, badgers, foxes and many more. All sat or lay around the edge of the clearing of the menhir and the great orange and black cat that lay near its base. They must have gathered during the night, although none of us had woken at their arrival. There was an unusual expectant air about them. Not a one of them paid us any heed, they all stared as one at the menhir. We broke our fast in silence. Truth be told we were frightened that we would attract the attention of the animals that surrounded us. As I ate I looked at the menhir trying to think of a stratagem that would break its bonds and release its secrets.
Mortec was the first to rise from our morning meal. He walked to his things that lay nearby. As he went past me I saw a steely look in his eye that complemented the grim look of determination that was set on his face. He stooped, not very far mind you, and retrieved his hammer, the very one that I used to break down the door when we were trapped in the pirate ship. The cat looked up curiously. The Gnome, now oblivious to the gathered horde, strode to the menhir and without breaking stride swung the hammer, with both hands, new and old. It struck one of the bands! The blow caused a loud ringing to be sounded, almost like a bell, but then the band broke and slid off the menhir!
I had known there was something unusual about the hammer when I myself had wielded it, but I had no idea that it was that strong!
With arrogant disdain (I actually believe he realised that he could not reach the top most bands to strike them), Mortec dropped the hammer at the base of the menhir and went back to finish his breakfast.
Argonne eagerly took up where Mortec had left off. And when it came to the last remaining band the sense of expectation in and around the clearing was at bursting point. The strange cat looked up in anticipation, the hammer fell, the final band shattered, its pieces falling to the ground.
Even as those last shards of metal fell to their resting place, a deafening cacophony of noise erupted from the assembled animals. It was if they were cheering. Bears growled, wolves howled and birds squawked and chirped.
The clearings’ orange and black striped guardian let out a massive roar that drowned out all of the other beasts and birds. They all stopped. All was quiet.
And then before our eyes the cat began to change. It shrank as it underwent its metamorphosis. Paws slowly formed hands and feet, fur turned to clothing (of a sort) and the beasts’ tail receded into its body. Before us was now hunched a man!