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Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"
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<blockquote data-quote="steeldragons" data-source="post: 5556147" data-attributes="member: 92511"><p>The party continued, struggling up the river D’Evand, “the Silver River” as named by the elves in ages part. When night fell, they found a shallow indent in the banks of the river and easily beached their shallow ship on the smooth river rocks and sand. Erevan and Fen did their best to camouflage the boat with branches and brush. A lean-to was constructed to block light from the campfire from the east and north. The night passed easily enough, though the party teamed up for watches of two throughout the night, keeping a sharp eye downriver for any pursuit from the goblinoid mariners. </p><p> </p><p> During Erevan and Fen’s watch, Erevan watched as Fen took a position on the wooded side of the camp and through the enchantments of his druidic cloak faded from view against the trees. Shortly passed midnight a thick cloud cover blew in from the north. A few rolling rumbles of thunder threatened rain but none came. As the day lightened behind the clouds in the east, the stormfront continued southward and Haelan and Coerraine ended their watch under patchy clouds with breaks of blue sky.</p><p> </p><p> The party broke camp and piled back into the ship. Haelan suggested that their stalwart vessel needed a name, as all the great ships in the great tales of old. Most of the party was content to let the halfling ponder this on his own. “Long as it ain’t ‘Lilypants’,” stipulated Duor.</p><p> </p><p> The dwarf found traveling the river significantly easier than the constant up and down sways of the open sea and was thankful for it.</p><p> </p><p> Despite the lack of rain, the party found themselvs without any useful wind and so the the warriors, Fen and Duor took turns using the oars and poles to force their way against the river current.</p><p> </p><p> About mid-morning, Haelan noted something curious to the north. Beyond the wooded bank, between two or three large hills, which Fen explained were the beginnings of the foothills to the Zarchan mountains, the daelvar cleric pointed eagerly at a curious formation.</p><p> </p><p> “See there, through those to hills? Look. Doesn’t that hill look like a huge face lying down?” Haelan asked. </p><p> </p><p> “That is Titans’ Rest, friend Haelan.” Fen explained. “There is a second mountain, which we cannot see just now, facing it. Between those massive faces marks the valley entrance to…”</p><p> </p><p> “The Land of Sleeping Giants.” Finished Erevan.</p><p> </p><p> Fen turned to his elvin “cousin” and nodded. “Quite so.”</p><p> </p><p> Alaria had come across mention of the fabled place, though she had never truly believed it would, indeed, look like a massive slumbering titan.</p><p> </p><p> “Indeed. So that’s where it is?” Duor said offhandedly. A question from Alaria sparked an explanation from the dwarf, “I have heard the songs of Thornbeard, a great dwarf lord of the Lost Ages. The giants don’t ‘sleep’, point-ear. They’re dead. Thornbeard invaded that land with a great army. He fought and defeated Gorekt the Giant King and all of his kin.”</p><p> </p><p> Alaria confessed her unfamiliarity with dwarf history, but saw no reason the dwarf to make up such a tale.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan, naturally, was intrigued. “Really, Duor? So is that where your people come from?”</p><p> </p><p> Duor said with all sarcasm intended, “Quite right, Hilltender. Every mountain you see has dwarves beneath it.” He turned to Braddok and rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p> “You mock me, Duor. That cannot be true,” Haelan turned to Braddok, “….can it?”</p><p> </p><p> “No, Haelan. Duor is teasing you.” Alaria clarified for the endlessly gullable halfling. “But the question is valid,” she continued after a thought, “Is that the land of your clan, Duor? Or do other dwarves live there?”</p><p> </p><p> “Well, I, ehm…” the dwarf was at a rare lack of words.</p><p> </p><p> “Indeed,” Erevan added, not wanting to pass up an opportunity to make the dwarf squirm. “It seems unlikely a great dwarf lord would counquer a land and king, and all of his folk, and leave his halls and <em>treasures</em> untended.” The elf looked impassively at the dwarf.</p><p> </p><p> “I, um…Well, I’m sure I don’t know. Nevertheless, Thornbeard slayed the giants of Titans’ Rest, of that you can be sure. He was a great warlord.” With that, Duor folded his arms in a huff and turned his attention upriver.</p><p> </p><p> Erevan smirked a rare smirk and caught Fen’s eye. The druid merely shook his head slightly from side to side.</p><p> </p><p> Alaria caught the exchange and pressed further. “And what can you tell us of Titans’ Rest and the Giant Lands, Fen.”</p><p> </p><p> “Alas, milady, though we are near to my homeland and I have traversed a great deal of the territories to our south, I myself have never travelled to the Land of Sleeping Giants…be they dead or no, I’d not care to wager.” The red-headed half-elf smiled his charming smile at the R’Hathi wizard.</p><p> </p><p> “Is it true that Daenfrii lies beyond?” Alaria questioned further.</p><p> </p><p> “That I can avow.” Fen answered offhandedly. “From the maps of the region that I have seen. But there are a great many easier paths to the realm of the Dragonmage.” Erevan nodded his agreement.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok then understood Alaria’s question. The realm of the world’s most (allegedly) powerful wizard, the Dragonmage, would undoubtedly be of great interest to the aspiring young wizardess.</p><p> </p><p> “Hm.” Was Alaria’s only response. She then took out her scrolls from their satchel and returned to her almost constant study of the mysterious papers.</p><p> </p><p> The day passed slowly until mid-afternoon, when Erevan seemed to notice something before them and moved with his typical grace to the prow of the ship and intently stared before them.</p><p> </p><p> Duor, casually sitting with a makeshift fishing line off the side noticed the elf’s movement and rolled his eyes. No doubt, the dwarf thought to himself, the point-ear’s eyebrow was doing its twitchy thing again.</p><p> </p><p> “What is it, Erevan?” Haelan asked. The rest of the party turned their attentions to the back of the elf.</p><p> </p><p> “Something is wrong.” Was the elf’s response. “Fen, do you notice anything odd about the woods?”</p><p> </p><p> Typical, thought Duor. The point-ear and half-blood are in cahoots now. We’ll be swimming in cryptic elvish nonsense the whole way back to Hawkview.</p><p> </p><p> Fen seemed to concentrate from a moment. He stared at the woods to their left. Then, seemed to be sniffing the air. “The woods are silent.” Fen finally said. “And I smell…smoke.”</p><p> </p><p> Duor furrowed his bushy brows. He took a few quick snorts of the air. “Where there’s smoke there’s fire, druid. Where d’yeh think there’s a fire. I don’t smell anything.”</p><p> </p><p> Alaria now was scanning the river and woods before them. Braddok and Coerraine, left to the majority of the rowing halted a moment and also turned to see if there were any smoke in the sky. Haelan at the tiller also noted that he did not smell anything.</p><p> </p><p> “Perhaps we get the clean air, eh hairfoot? The smoke must only be in the point-ears’ air.” Duor chuckled at his jab at the elvin companions.</p><p> </p><p> “But I have pointed ears too, Duor?” Haelan replied. Duor again rolled his eyes at the halfling. Sarcasm and jest both lost on the poor simple priest and returned his attention to his fishing line.</p><p> </p><p> “No, Duor.” Coerraine added. “It is faint, but I smell it as well.”</p><p> </p><p> “It’s a conspiracy of the big folk!” shouted Duor in mock assault. “Or perhaps, Sir Goldilocks, you have some point-ear blood in yeh, as well, huh?” Duor chuckled to himself. He did not see the Redstar Kight’s scowl.</p><p> </p><p> “We shall see, friend Duor.” Fen replied with passive diplomacy. The young druid outstretched his arms and raised his leaf-tipped spear. The cryptic syllables of his secret tongue murmured on his lips, again too soft to cause his fellows any possible harm from hearing it. His casting finished, Fen lowered his arms and scanned the sky.</p><p> </p><p> “Fen, what did you…” Alaria began to ask only to be cut off by the shriekd of a hawk that had appeared from the trees before them and winged its way towards them.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan shrank back a bit as the hawk let forth another shrill cry. His mind was inundated with disturbing visions of his encounter with the harpies.</p><p> </p><p> To the party’s amazement, the hawk alit on Fen’s outstretched arm and sat calmly looking at the druid. Haelan nearly jumped out of his shirt when Fen, himself, opened his mouth in a series of sharp shrill notes and calm chirps.</p><p> </p><p> “Feorn’s beard.” Whispered Duor.</p><p> </p><p> The hawk replied in similar fashion, carrying on an obscure conversation for a few minutes before taking wing again. It circled above them briefly before returning to the surrounding woods, apparently gone back to his afternoon hunt.</p><p> </p><p> “By the Hillmother.” Haelan piped up excitedly when the hawk had left. “You <em>can</em> talk to the animals! What a fantastic talent!”</p><p> </p><p> Fen merely smiled a slight smile at the daelvar cleric. There was something behind the look that seemed sorrowful.</p><p> </p><p> “Can you teach me to do that? Pleeeease, Fen. I’m sure the Hillmother wouldn’t mind. I would love to be able to speak to the animals back home...maybe not hawks or wolves…but, the nice ones, you know like…”</p><p> </p><p> “Haelan!” burst Braddok in irritation. The warrior turned to the druid, “Well?”</p><p> </p><p> His eyes downcast, Fen replied serenely, “It seems...upriver, there was a village of elves that was sacked and burned yesterday by a great evil force. The animals of that part of the wood have all fled from an encroaching army of…goblins.” Fen looked towards Erevan, “I am sorry <em>kiiri</em> <elvin term of familiarity, loosely translates as “cousin”>. I fear the hawk could only be referring to the outpost at Silver Falls.”</p><p> </p><p> Erevan’s face betrayed no emotion. “Did the bird say anything of survivors? Has it seen any elves since the attack?”</p><p> </p><p> Fen shook his head. “She said she had not seen any but the bodies of the dead in the village.” Fen seemed more distraught by the hawk’s report than the full-blooded elf. </p><p> </p><p>Even Duor lowered his head. The dwarf felt a pang of remorse for the elf and his people. </p><p></p><p> “But that is not to say none escaped!” added the ever-optimistic Haelan. “Maybe she just didn’t notice anyone retreating or…or she was hunting or something.”</p><p> </p><p> “Erevan, I…” Alaria began.</p><p> </p><p> The elvin scout turned again to face the river before them. “No words of condolence are necessary, magess. Haelan is correct. We still must pass the outpost. We shall see for ourselves soon enough.”</p><p></p><p>Sure enough, as the evening sun lowered itself in the western sky, the small ship came upon the high Silver Falls. The smell of smoke was noticeable to all of them as were the thin trails of smoke rising above the treetops not far into the woods beside the foot of the falls. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>With all caution and alertness, the party secured the boat and ventured into the deepening evening shadows of the forest.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="steeldragons, post: 5556147, member: 92511"] The party continued, struggling up the river D’Evand, “the Silver River” as named by the elves in ages part. When night fell, they found a shallow indent in the banks of the river and easily beached their shallow ship on the smooth river rocks and sand. Erevan and Fen did their best to camouflage the boat with branches and brush. A lean-to was constructed to block light from the campfire from the east and north. The night passed easily enough, though the party teamed up for watches of two throughout the night, keeping a sharp eye downriver for any pursuit from the goblinoid mariners. During Erevan and Fen’s watch, Erevan watched as Fen took a position on the wooded side of the camp and through the enchantments of his druidic cloak faded from view against the trees. Shortly passed midnight a thick cloud cover blew in from the north. A few rolling rumbles of thunder threatened rain but none came. As the day lightened behind the clouds in the east, the stormfront continued southward and Haelan and Coerraine ended their watch under patchy clouds with breaks of blue sky. The party broke camp and piled back into the ship. Haelan suggested that their stalwart vessel needed a name, as all the great ships in the great tales of old. Most of the party was content to let the halfling ponder this on his own. “Long as it ain’t ‘Lilypants’,” stipulated Duor. The dwarf found traveling the river significantly easier than the constant up and down sways of the open sea and was thankful for it. Despite the lack of rain, the party found themselvs without any useful wind and so the the warriors, Fen and Duor took turns using the oars and poles to force their way against the river current. About mid-morning, Haelan noted something curious to the north. Beyond the wooded bank, between two or three large hills, which Fen explained were the beginnings of the foothills to the Zarchan mountains, the daelvar cleric pointed eagerly at a curious formation. “See there, through those to hills? Look. Doesn’t that hill look like a huge face lying down?” Haelan asked. “That is Titans’ Rest, friend Haelan.” Fen explained. “There is a second mountain, which we cannot see just now, facing it. Between those massive faces marks the valley entrance to…” “The Land of Sleeping Giants.” Finished Erevan. Fen turned to his elvin “cousin” and nodded. “Quite so.” Alaria had come across mention of the fabled place, though she had never truly believed it would, indeed, look like a massive slumbering titan. “Indeed. So that’s where it is?” Duor said offhandedly. A question from Alaria sparked an explanation from the dwarf, “I have heard the songs of Thornbeard, a great dwarf lord of the Lost Ages. The giants don’t ‘sleep’, point-ear. They’re dead. Thornbeard invaded that land with a great army. He fought and defeated Gorekt the Giant King and all of his kin.” Alaria confessed her unfamiliarity with dwarf history, but saw no reason the dwarf to make up such a tale. Haelan, naturally, was intrigued. “Really, Duor? So is that where your people come from?” Duor said with all sarcasm intended, “Quite right, Hilltender. Every mountain you see has dwarves beneath it.” He turned to Braddok and rolled his eyes. “You mock me, Duor. That cannot be true,” Haelan turned to Braddok, “….can it?” “No, Haelan. Duor is teasing you.” Alaria clarified for the endlessly gullable halfling. “But the question is valid,” she continued after a thought, “Is that the land of your clan, Duor? Or do other dwarves live there?” “Well, I, ehm…” the dwarf was at a rare lack of words. “Indeed,” Erevan added, not wanting to pass up an opportunity to make the dwarf squirm. “It seems unlikely a great dwarf lord would counquer a land and king, and all of his folk, and leave his halls and [I]treasures[/I] untended.” The elf looked impassively at the dwarf. “I, um…Well, I’m sure I don’t know. Nevertheless, Thornbeard slayed the giants of Titans’ Rest, of that you can be sure. He was a great warlord.” With that, Duor folded his arms in a huff and turned his attention upriver. Erevan smirked a rare smirk and caught Fen’s eye. The druid merely shook his head slightly from side to side. Alaria caught the exchange and pressed further. “And what can you tell us of Titans’ Rest and the Giant Lands, Fen.” “Alas, milady, though we are near to my homeland and I have traversed a great deal of the territories to our south, I myself have never travelled to the Land of Sleeping Giants…be they dead or no, I’d not care to wager.” The red-headed half-elf smiled his charming smile at the R’Hathi wizard. “Is it true that Daenfrii lies beyond?” Alaria questioned further. “That I can avow.” Fen answered offhandedly. “From the maps of the region that I have seen. But there are a great many easier paths to the realm of the Dragonmage.” Erevan nodded his agreement. Braddok then understood Alaria’s question. The realm of the world’s most (allegedly) powerful wizard, the Dragonmage, would undoubtedly be of great interest to the aspiring young wizardess. “Hm.” Was Alaria’s only response. She then took out her scrolls from their satchel and returned to her almost constant study of the mysterious papers. The day passed slowly until mid-afternoon, when Erevan seemed to notice something before them and moved with his typical grace to the prow of the ship and intently stared before them. Duor, casually sitting with a makeshift fishing line off the side noticed the elf’s movement and rolled his eyes. No doubt, the dwarf thought to himself, the point-ear’s eyebrow was doing its twitchy thing again. “What is it, Erevan?” Haelan asked. The rest of the party turned their attentions to the back of the elf. “Something is wrong.” Was the elf’s response. “Fen, do you notice anything odd about the woods?” Typical, thought Duor. The point-ear and half-blood are in cahoots now. We’ll be swimming in cryptic elvish nonsense the whole way back to Hawkview. Fen seemed to concentrate from a moment. He stared at the woods to their left. Then, seemed to be sniffing the air. “The woods are silent.” Fen finally said. “And I smell…smoke.” Duor furrowed his bushy brows. He took a few quick snorts of the air. “Where there’s smoke there’s fire, druid. Where d’yeh think there’s a fire. I don’t smell anything.” Alaria now was scanning the river and woods before them. Braddok and Coerraine, left to the majority of the rowing halted a moment and also turned to see if there were any smoke in the sky. Haelan at the tiller also noted that he did not smell anything. “Perhaps we get the clean air, eh hairfoot? The smoke must only be in the point-ears’ air.” Duor chuckled at his jab at the elvin companions. “But I have pointed ears too, Duor?” Haelan replied. Duor again rolled his eyes at the halfling. Sarcasm and jest both lost on the poor simple priest and returned his attention to his fishing line. “No, Duor.” Coerraine added. “It is faint, but I smell it as well.” “It’s a conspiracy of the big folk!” shouted Duor in mock assault. “Or perhaps, Sir Goldilocks, you have some point-ear blood in yeh, as well, huh?” Duor chuckled to himself. He did not see the Redstar Kight’s scowl. “We shall see, friend Duor.” Fen replied with passive diplomacy. The young druid outstretched his arms and raised his leaf-tipped spear. The cryptic syllables of his secret tongue murmured on his lips, again too soft to cause his fellows any possible harm from hearing it. His casting finished, Fen lowered his arms and scanned the sky. “Fen, what did you…” Alaria began to ask only to be cut off by the shriekd of a hawk that had appeared from the trees before them and winged its way towards them. Haelan shrank back a bit as the hawk let forth another shrill cry. His mind was inundated with disturbing visions of his encounter with the harpies. To the party’s amazement, the hawk alit on Fen’s outstretched arm and sat calmly looking at the druid. Haelan nearly jumped out of his shirt when Fen, himself, opened his mouth in a series of sharp shrill notes and calm chirps. “Feorn’s beard.” Whispered Duor. The hawk replied in similar fashion, carrying on an obscure conversation for a few minutes before taking wing again. It circled above them briefly before returning to the surrounding woods, apparently gone back to his afternoon hunt. “By the Hillmother.” Haelan piped up excitedly when the hawk had left. “You [I]can[/I] talk to the animals! What a fantastic talent!” Fen merely smiled a slight smile at the daelvar cleric. There was something behind the look that seemed sorrowful. “Can you teach me to do that? Pleeeease, Fen. I’m sure the Hillmother wouldn’t mind. I would love to be able to speak to the animals back home...maybe not hawks or wolves…but, the nice ones, you know like…” “Haelan!” burst Braddok in irritation. The warrior turned to the druid, “Well?” His eyes downcast, Fen replied serenely, “It seems...upriver, there was a village of elves that was sacked and burned yesterday by a great evil force. The animals of that part of the wood have all fled from an encroaching army of…goblins.” Fen looked towards Erevan, “I am sorry [I]kiiri[/I] <elvin term of familiarity, loosely translates as “cousin”>. I fear the hawk could only be referring to the outpost at Silver Falls.” Erevan’s face betrayed no emotion. “Did the bird say anything of survivors? Has it seen any elves since the attack?” Fen shook his head. “She said she had not seen any but the bodies of the dead in the village.” Fen seemed more distraught by the hawk’s report than the full-blooded elf. Even Duor lowered his head. The dwarf felt a pang of remorse for the elf and his people. “But that is not to say none escaped!” added the ever-optimistic Haelan. “Maybe she just didn’t notice anyone retreating or…or she was hunting or something.” “Erevan, I…” Alaria began. The elvin scout turned again to face the river before them. “No words of condolence are necessary, magess. Haelan is correct. We still must pass the outpost. We shall see for ourselves soon enough.” Sure enough, as the evening sun lowered itself in the western sky, the small ship came upon the high Silver Falls. The smell of smoke was noticeable to all of them as were the thin trails of smoke rising above the treetops not far into the woods beside the foot of the falls. With all caution and alertness, the party secured the boat and ventured into the deepening evening shadows of the forest. [/QUOTE]
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