Iron Sky
Procedurally Generated
Session 12, Part 2
-Notes: Ahah! I was smarter this time. Typed it up in OpenOffice so the dreaded crash only took 1/3 of a page instead of the whole post!-
“This is... not what I was expecting,” Suniel said as they stood starting at the lizardfolk's lair.
An ancient looking male with cracked scales leaning on a long staff stood at the front of about two dozen of what Suniel assumed were females and young. The old one raised his staff and bared his teeth, then dropped it and prostrated himself on the ground.
Harold, Kezzek, and Suniel looked at the small tribe and glanced at each other. Keeper stood by impassively.
“Do you speak Common?” Kezzek said, tugging on a tusk as he took in the tribe.
“I speaks your tongue, boat-dwellers,” the lizardfolk elder said, still prostate.
“Why did your tribe attack us, old one?” Suniel said.
“And where did your owl go?” Harold said, still glancing about warily, bow drawn and arrow nocked.
“We show strength to all boat that come, we board, we take food, they go.” The old one said. “Our Shaman we not see since battle.”
“He abandoned you?” Harold said, looking about suspiciously.
“He serve the Spirit Totem. Spirit Totem killed by orc, Shaman leave,” the old one said.
“Half-orc,” Kezzek growled.
“Stand old one,” Suniel said, helping the ancient lizardman to his feet. “You were boarding ships for food?”
The old one nodded and gestured to the small tribe. “We fled from the other Tribes, Shaman said Spirit Totem knew of promised place up great river. We lost most of tribe coming up and now Totem dead and Shaman gone...”
“You were boarding ships with weapons drawn, what do you expect?” Kezzek said.
The old one raised his hands. “In our ways, you must bear teeth and raise weapons to show you are not weak before you can negotiate, otherwise they just kill warriors and take females and young.”
“Well, that sure worked well for you,” Harold said, finally putting away his bow.
“It was all we knew to do. We travel and run out of food... none knew what else to do. And now we have nothing.”
The three companions exchanged a glance. Suniel nodded, Kezzek shrugged, and Harold sighed.
***
They stood at the rear rail and waved at the tribe as they steamed away.
“That was probably a waste of two days,” Harold said. “They aren't going to survive out here.”
“We gave them a chance,” Suniel said. “It's all we can do.”
“Who knows. Maybe they'll be able to domesticate those wild pigs we rustled up and set up trade with ships passing by,” Kezzek said. “They know better than to show their peaceful intentions by drawing weapons now at least. And Grok'nar will have some company tromping around near his grave. I think he'd have wanted that.”
Suniel nodded and glanced down at the hobgoblin's wineskin. He raised it in salute towards the tiny village they'd helped the lizardfolk build and tossed it into the river.
Kezzek grunted and gave a salute of his own, banging his gauntleted fist against his chest. Harold turned and looked downstream.
"Farewell Grok'nar. Never thought I'd say this of a hobgoblin, but you'll be missed," Suniel said. They watched as the village passed behind them out of sight.
***
Almost everyone else was already on deck by the time Harold made his way out of the hold. He pushed his way through Suniel's motley band, clustered about the bow of the ship, and turned to the Captain. “Why are we stopped?”
Guntl shaded his eyes against the noon-day sun and pointed downstream. “Look, there, you see?”
Harold squinted in the direction Guntl was pointing. “I see nothing, what are you pointing at?”
“This is bad,” Captain Shingleclank said, pulling his tricorne off and gripping it. “Thought we might get lucky again, but there she is.”
“There who is? What are you talking about?” He stared ahead, still unseeing. Then she moved.
The great green dragon was stretched out along the shore at the next bend basking in the sunlight, at least sixty feet from nose to tail, maybe more - the foliage was blocking part of their view of her.
Harold reached for his bow, but Suniel put a restraining arm on his. “I don't want to fight Ashcandia if we can at all avoid it.”
“So what are we going to do then?” Harold said, dropping his arm to his side. “Sit here until she comes to us? Wait, you know her name?”
“Yes, I've heard it before; Ashcandia Gloomwood, she claims this area as her territory. And no, we aren't waiting for her. I thought I'd go talk with her,” the elf said, glancing downstream. “I speak Draconic and thought I might be able to negotiate for us.
“I'll come too then,” Harold said.
“I thought you didn't speak Draconic,” Suniel said.
“I never said that.”
The wizard stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “All right, let's go then.”
***
The largest trout Suniel had ever seen wriggled and twitched, impaled on one massive claw. Ashcandia didn't even turn to look as they approached, her lazy, half-lidded gaze watching the death-throes of the fish.
“Hail, Great One,” Suniel said in Draconic, bowing low. He noticed with much annoyance that Harold didn't duplicate the gesture.
She didn't respond, instead slowly and delicately extending a razor-sharp claw and popping the fish's eyes.
Harold cleared his throat as if he were about to speak, but one great eye turned to them. “You may pass,” she rumbled back.
“We are envoys from the Crystal – what?” Harold said, Suniel echoing him.
With a swift movement, the green's claws snicked and the fish flew apart in a spray of blood. Lazily, she dipped her bloody claws in the water and watched the water ripple around them. “I said you may pass.”
Suniel bowed deeply again. “Thank you, oh generous one, we are most grateful and will be on our way immediately.”
“Why do you let us pass so simply?” Harold said. Suniel stared at him and took a few steps back, reminded again that this man seemed to be afraid of nothing.
She arched her graceful, slender neck and turned to regard him. “Bold, human. But she likes them that way, I can see why she would pick you.”
“Who? What do you speak of?” Harold said, taking a step closer.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously and Suniel took another step back in spite of himself, half expecting Harold to disappear in a flick of those claws and a spray of red. “Do you try me simply because you bear Gilderalin's mark? Do not think that her protection makes you invulnerable.”
“Whose mark? Do you speak in riddles, dragon?”
The green's eyes widened then, one eyelid arching up. “You mean you truly don't know? Very interesting. Why would she mark you in secret?”
“Who is Gilderalin?” Harold said.
Ashcandia arched her head back and there was a throaty rumble that Suniel took to be a laugh. “Oh, this is too rich. Marked by her and they don't even know it, probably off on one of her fools errands. Priceless.”
Suniel saw Harold's expression darken and he quickly stepped forwards. “I'm sure we'll discover in due time. We won't trouble you any more, Great Ashcandia.” He gave yet another deep bow. “We will be out of your territory as fast as we can travel.”
He pulled at Harold's elbow, first subtly, then harder as Harold continued to stare up at the dragon. Finally, the archer turned and followed him back towards the ship.
Suniel cast a quick glance back and saw the great green regarding them coolly, all traces of amusement vanished, eyes calculating as she watched them go.
-Notes: Ahah! I was smarter this time. Typed it up in OpenOffice so the dreaded crash only took 1/3 of a page instead of the whole post!-
“This is... not what I was expecting,” Suniel said as they stood starting at the lizardfolk's lair.
An ancient looking male with cracked scales leaning on a long staff stood at the front of about two dozen of what Suniel assumed were females and young. The old one raised his staff and bared his teeth, then dropped it and prostrated himself on the ground.
Harold, Kezzek, and Suniel looked at the small tribe and glanced at each other. Keeper stood by impassively.
“Do you speak Common?” Kezzek said, tugging on a tusk as he took in the tribe.
“I speaks your tongue, boat-dwellers,” the lizardfolk elder said, still prostate.
“Why did your tribe attack us, old one?” Suniel said.
“And where did your owl go?” Harold said, still glancing about warily, bow drawn and arrow nocked.
“We show strength to all boat that come, we board, we take food, they go.” The old one said. “Our Shaman we not see since battle.”
“He abandoned you?” Harold said, looking about suspiciously.
“He serve the Spirit Totem. Spirit Totem killed by orc, Shaman leave,” the old one said.
“Half-orc,” Kezzek growled.
“Stand old one,” Suniel said, helping the ancient lizardman to his feet. “You were boarding ships for food?”
The old one nodded and gestured to the small tribe. “We fled from the other Tribes, Shaman said Spirit Totem knew of promised place up great river. We lost most of tribe coming up and now Totem dead and Shaman gone...”
“You were boarding ships with weapons drawn, what do you expect?” Kezzek said.
The old one raised his hands. “In our ways, you must bear teeth and raise weapons to show you are not weak before you can negotiate, otherwise they just kill warriors and take females and young.”
“Well, that sure worked well for you,” Harold said, finally putting away his bow.
“It was all we knew to do. We travel and run out of food... none knew what else to do. And now we have nothing.”
The three companions exchanged a glance. Suniel nodded, Kezzek shrugged, and Harold sighed.
***
They stood at the rear rail and waved at the tribe as they steamed away.
“That was probably a waste of two days,” Harold said. “They aren't going to survive out here.”
“We gave them a chance,” Suniel said. “It's all we can do.”
“Who knows. Maybe they'll be able to domesticate those wild pigs we rustled up and set up trade with ships passing by,” Kezzek said. “They know better than to show their peaceful intentions by drawing weapons now at least. And Grok'nar will have some company tromping around near his grave. I think he'd have wanted that.”
Suniel nodded and glanced down at the hobgoblin's wineskin. He raised it in salute towards the tiny village they'd helped the lizardfolk build and tossed it into the river.
Kezzek grunted and gave a salute of his own, banging his gauntleted fist against his chest. Harold turned and looked downstream.
"Farewell Grok'nar. Never thought I'd say this of a hobgoblin, but you'll be missed," Suniel said. They watched as the village passed behind them out of sight.
***
Almost everyone else was already on deck by the time Harold made his way out of the hold. He pushed his way through Suniel's motley band, clustered about the bow of the ship, and turned to the Captain. “Why are we stopped?”
Guntl shaded his eyes against the noon-day sun and pointed downstream. “Look, there, you see?”
Harold squinted in the direction Guntl was pointing. “I see nothing, what are you pointing at?”
“This is bad,” Captain Shingleclank said, pulling his tricorne off and gripping it. “Thought we might get lucky again, but there she is.”
“There who is? What are you talking about?” He stared ahead, still unseeing. Then she moved.
The great green dragon was stretched out along the shore at the next bend basking in the sunlight, at least sixty feet from nose to tail, maybe more - the foliage was blocking part of their view of her.
Harold reached for his bow, but Suniel put a restraining arm on his. “I don't want to fight Ashcandia if we can at all avoid it.”
“So what are we going to do then?” Harold said, dropping his arm to his side. “Sit here until she comes to us? Wait, you know her name?”
“Yes, I've heard it before; Ashcandia Gloomwood, she claims this area as her territory. And no, we aren't waiting for her. I thought I'd go talk with her,” the elf said, glancing downstream. “I speak Draconic and thought I might be able to negotiate for us.
“I'll come too then,” Harold said.
“I thought you didn't speak Draconic,” Suniel said.
“I never said that.”
The wizard stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “All right, let's go then.”
***
The largest trout Suniel had ever seen wriggled and twitched, impaled on one massive claw. Ashcandia didn't even turn to look as they approached, her lazy, half-lidded gaze watching the death-throes of the fish.
“Hail, Great One,” Suniel said in Draconic, bowing low. He noticed with much annoyance that Harold didn't duplicate the gesture.
She didn't respond, instead slowly and delicately extending a razor-sharp claw and popping the fish's eyes.
Harold cleared his throat as if he were about to speak, but one great eye turned to them. “You may pass,” she rumbled back.
“We are envoys from the Crystal – what?” Harold said, Suniel echoing him.
With a swift movement, the green's claws snicked and the fish flew apart in a spray of blood. Lazily, she dipped her bloody claws in the water and watched the water ripple around them. “I said you may pass.”
Suniel bowed deeply again. “Thank you, oh generous one, we are most grateful and will be on our way immediately.”
“Why do you let us pass so simply?” Harold said. Suniel stared at him and took a few steps back, reminded again that this man seemed to be afraid of nothing.
She arched her graceful, slender neck and turned to regard him. “Bold, human. But she likes them that way, I can see why she would pick you.”
“Who? What do you speak of?” Harold said, taking a step closer.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously and Suniel took another step back in spite of himself, half expecting Harold to disappear in a flick of those claws and a spray of red. “Do you try me simply because you bear Gilderalin's mark? Do not think that her protection makes you invulnerable.”
“Whose mark? Do you speak in riddles, dragon?”
The green's eyes widened then, one eyelid arching up. “You mean you truly don't know? Very interesting. Why would she mark you in secret?”
“Who is Gilderalin?” Harold said.
Ashcandia arched her head back and there was a throaty rumble that Suniel took to be a laugh. “Oh, this is too rich. Marked by her and they don't even know it, probably off on one of her fools errands. Priceless.”
Suniel saw Harold's expression darken and he quickly stepped forwards. “I'm sure we'll discover in due time. We won't trouble you any more, Great Ashcandia.” He gave yet another deep bow. “We will be out of your territory as fast as we can travel.”
He pulled at Harold's elbow, first subtly, then harder as Harold continued to stare up at the dragon. Finally, the archer turned and followed him back towards the ship.
Suniel cast a quick glance back and saw the great green regarding them coolly, all traces of amusement vanished, eyes calculating as she watched them go.
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