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The Runic Storyhour: An Oriental Adventure in The Dream
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<blockquote data-quote="Rune" data-source="post: 1869" data-attributes="member: 67"><p>Session 2, part 1</p><p></p><p>We know less about our purpose than we knew before. Running for one's life will do that to a person. Survival quickly becomes the only course of action with any relevance. Swift and I are the only members of our company who suffered no wounds in the bakemono camp, so it is we who nurse the unconscious forms of the halfling and the Chameleon back to health. Our shelter is barely that. We have found a cluster of trees with a great stone as a wall to put our backs against. It is as if we are captive in a cage with no borders. Tempers are short. Swift, in his great frustration last evening, shook his fist at the sky and declared he could not linger for days in the wilderness, and though he spoke from his own heart, he spoke for all of us.</p><p></p><p>I should have known, should have guessed, that following our four days of healing where we fled to the south, the Chameleon, of all people, as soon as his wounds were quieted, would turn us back toward the mounds of our defeat at the hands of the bakemono. Chameleon is on his feet, though grunting and complaining at times, and the halfling, with his pestilence of a monkey in tow, which I cannot help but watch with amusement, is miraculously recovered (with the help of Swift and myself, of course) and walking with the thing perched on his shoulder, or scuttling through the trees, when they are thick enough. We noticed the monkey loitering one night at the edge of camp and lured it in with rice grains and fruit gathered from the trees on a summer day (we’ve had only one of those, regretfully, so fruit is short). It developed an immediate attachment to the halfling. The halfling calls it Fighting Monkey Dances, after himself. I think that the Monkey family would be insulted if they knew.</p><p></p><p><em>DM note: the player of Fighting Man Dances calls the monkey Mojo Jojo out of character. Also, almost immediately, the halfling started teaching (or trying to teach) the monkey martial arts--nevermind that the monkey is about the size of a cat.</em></p><p></p><p>I am hungry for more than rice, and tired not in body, but in spirit. We are aimless it seems, in the face of this world. Where once we had a clearly defined goal, we find ourselves facing a void. We had not expected to flee for our lives. Now, it seems, we are going back to the bakemono camp to attempt to rectify the outcome of our misadventure; either we will rescue a captured noble, or take his ancestral belongings and body, if we can manage it, to his family. As we neared the camp we could not agree on what was to be done with the monkey--such a little detail, but one that could reveal us to the bakemono--and we cautioned the halfling to tie the monkey to the tree (well…I wanted the thing thrown in a sack). This was done, but the halfling untied the monkey when we were not looking. (We never found out until later, for the monkey stayed away from us as we traveled to the camp.) We are to go in by stealth, rescue Grinning Tiger Rules, or honor him and retrieve his belongings, and get out.</p><p></p><p><em>DM note: the idea here was that they could have succeeded in daylight where they had failed at night. They never told me where stealth fit into that plan.</em></p><p></p><p>We pass through the tall grass (it is summer again, this day) and finally, with great caution, toward the lookout mounds of the bakemono; we cannot believe what we see. Of course, in this world you cannot believe much of anything, yet the area is raw ground, as if it has been trampled by a thousand ghostly elephants that have left no tracks. The earth around and through the camp is obliterated, thrown apart in chunks by some monstrous earthquake with only the circle of stone spikes towering fifty feet above left standing. The huts are all in ruins. There are no bodies, nor graves. We have come to free Grinning Tiger Rules from the bakemono, if we can, but there is no life here. There is now no hope for the payment of fifty Rice-Months apiece, nor of reclaiming honor. I want to look for the festival town again, to get news of war, if there is war, and to feel the comfort of a village again, but we can not decide on our direction. Chameleon would have us go east, and for what, I do not understand. But, as is often the case, his will prevails. Before we finalize our decision, Swift reveals that he has discovered something on the ground. It is a pouch, richly decorated and richly lined: a substantial pouch of the Empire's silver. We ponder its significance, but our course does not change. We go east. Into, we soon discover, an ancient forest.</p><p></p><p><em>DM note: Intelligent Chameleon Survives has the highest Charisma in the group, and whether or not that plays a part in the group's discussions, I known not, but I do know that he kept the group moving in unexpected directions this session, trying to outwit me. Too bad I had contingency plans...</em></p><p></p><p><strong>East and Into the Forest</strong></p><p></p><p>There is still daylight when we enter the tree line, but when the forest around us grows too thick to walk side by side, dusk is falling. It is dark--very dark--already, beneath the ancient trees. Chameleon casts a spell upon himself that grants him the ability to walk up trees like a monkey, or a spider, and uses the little light that is left to climb a tall tree and scout out our surroundings. Thunder rolls in the distance, presumably the Dream’s reaction to his spellcasting. When he has climbed above the canopy of the forest, he looks around. Nothing is moving, but he can see several large clearings. One is not too far to the east. We head toward it, Chameleon and the halfling fifty yards ahead of Swift and myself. And then they see it, long before we catch the first whiff of smoke: a glowing line of red advancing toward us from the east, quickly; we must get out of the forest. We are forced to run single file through the dense trees, west, away from the fire, calling to the halfling who has gone back to look for the monkey, and crashing through branches that block our way. We can smell the smoke that is rapidly layering the woods. We feel the scorching heat of an entire forest aflame. We are running in the blackness of dense wood, with thick, white tendrils choking our lungs, the ocean-light above smothered by the dense foliage and smoke overhead. I can hear my companions running and then I realize they have gone back for the halfling. I can not turn back. My legs have control of my mind, and they go west. The wall of fire is faster than we are--much faster. The fire is closing. Chameleon is down, burned and asphyxiated—dead or unconscious, we know not which, but the halfling, Swift, and I break free of the forest. The halfling runs back into the forest and begins to drag the human, who is twice his size, to safety. Surely, the fire will devour them in a few seconds. Swift attempts to leap back into the forest as well, but he is repelled again and again by the intense heat. The fire is almost upon the halfling and the human. Finally, Swift is able to aid the halfling, and Chameleon is brought beyond the boundary of trees into the fresh air of night. They are saved. Their breathing is labored and one of their number is unconscious, yet they are alive. We retreat to the ruins of the bakemono camp, west of us, and it becomes a base of operations, for a time. In the days to come, the Chameleon curses the fire, irrationally blaming it for his loss of honor (if indeed, his collapse was even such a loss). And, although Intelligent Chameleon Survives vehemently denies it, we all wonder if it was his spell casting that ignited the fire that nearly claimed our lives.</p><p></p><p><em>DM note: it was actually the halfling who first identified the fire for what it was. While Chameleon was still trying to figure out what my description meant (he envisioned a bunch of glowing red eyes), Fighting Man Dances (whose player had actually seen a forest fire, as had I; we're brothers) immediately recognized the peril. The halfling most certainly saved the lives of the party with his quick thinking. The reason that this does not come out in the story is because, well, he's a halfling.</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Rune, post: 1869, member: 67"] Session 2, part 1 We know less about our purpose than we knew before. Running for one's life will do that to a person. Survival quickly becomes the only course of action with any relevance. Swift and I are the only members of our company who suffered no wounds in the bakemono camp, so it is we who nurse the unconscious forms of the halfling and the Chameleon back to health. Our shelter is barely that. We have found a cluster of trees with a great stone as a wall to put our backs against. It is as if we are captive in a cage with no borders. Tempers are short. Swift, in his great frustration last evening, shook his fist at the sky and declared he could not linger for days in the wilderness, and though he spoke from his own heart, he spoke for all of us. I should have known, should have guessed, that following our four days of healing where we fled to the south, the Chameleon, of all people, as soon as his wounds were quieted, would turn us back toward the mounds of our defeat at the hands of the bakemono. Chameleon is on his feet, though grunting and complaining at times, and the halfling, with his pestilence of a monkey in tow, which I cannot help but watch with amusement, is miraculously recovered (with the help of Swift and myself, of course) and walking with the thing perched on his shoulder, or scuttling through the trees, when they are thick enough. We noticed the monkey loitering one night at the edge of camp and lured it in with rice grains and fruit gathered from the trees on a summer day (we’ve had only one of those, regretfully, so fruit is short). It developed an immediate attachment to the halfling. The halfling calls it Fighting Monkey Dances, after himself. I think that the Monkey family would be insulted if they knew. [i]DM note: the player of Fighting Man Dances calls the monkey Mojo Jojo out of character. Also, almost immediately, the halfling started teaching (or trying to teach) the monkey martial arts--nevermind that the monkey is about the size of a cat.[/i] I am hungry for more than rice, and tired not in body, but in spirit. We are aimless it seems, in the face of this world. Where once we had a clearly defined goal, we find ourselves facing a void. We had not expected to flee for our lives. Now, it seems, we are going back to the bakemono camp to attempt to rectify the outcome of our misadventure; either we will rescue a captured noble, or take his ancestral belongings and body, if we can manage it, to his family. As we neared the camp we could not agree on what was to be done with the monkey--such a little detail, but one that could reveal us to the bakemono--and we cautioned the halfling to tie the monkey to the tree (well…I wanted the thing thrown in a sack). This was done, but the halfling untied the monkey when we were not looking. (We never found out until later, for the monkey stayed away from us as we traveled to the camp.) We are to go in by stealth, rescue Grinning Tiger Rules, or honor him and retrieve his belongings, and get out. [i]DM note: the idea here was that they could have succeeded in daylight where they had failed at night. They never told me where stealth fit into that plan.[/i] We pass through the tall grass (it is summer again, this day) and finally, with great caution, toward the lookout mounds of the bakemono; we cannot believe what we see. Of course, in this world you cannot believe much of anything, yet the area is raw ground, as if it has been trampled by a thousand ghostly elephants that have left no tracks. The earth around and through the camp is obliterated, thrown apart in chunks by some monstrous earthquake with only the circle of stone spikes towering fifty feet above left standing. The huts are all in ruins. There are no bodies, nor graves. We have come to free Grinning Tiger Rules from the bakemono, if we can, but there is no life here. There is now no hope for the payment of fifty Rice-Months apiece, nor of reclaiming honor. I want to look for the festival town again, to get news of war, if there is war, and to feel the comfort of a village again, but we can not decide on our direction. Chameleon would have us go east, and for what, I do not understand. But, as is often the case, his will prevails. Before we finalize our decision, Swift reveals that he has discovered something on the ground. It is a pouch, richly decorated and richly lined: a substantial pouch of the Empire's silver. We ponder its significance, but our course does not change. We go east. Into, we soon discover, an ancient forest. [i]DM note: Intelligent Chameleon Survives has the highest Charisma in the group, and whether or not that plays a part in the group's discussions, I known not, but I do know that he kept the group moving in unexpected directions this session, trying to outwit me. Too bad I had contingency plans...[/i] [b]East and Into the Forest[/b] There is still daylight when we enter the tree line, but when the forest around us grows too thick to walk side by side, dusk is falling. It is dark--very dark--already, beneath the ancient trees. Chameleon casts a spell upon himself that grants him the ability to walk up trees like a monkey, or a spider, and uses the little light that is left to climb a tall tree and scout out our surroundings. Thunder rolls in the distance, presumably the Dream’s reaction to his spellcasting. When he has climbed above the canopy of the forest, he looks around. Nothing is moving, but he can see several large clearings. One is not too far to the east. We head toward it, Chameleon and the halfling fifty yards ahead of Swift and myself. And then they see it, long before we catch the first whiff of smoke: a glowing line of red advancing toward us from the east, quickly; we must get out of the forest. We are forced to run single file through the dense trees, west, away from the fire, calling to the halfling who has gone back to look for the monkey, and crashing through branches that block our way. We can smell the smoke that is rapidly layering the woods. We feel the scorching heat of an entire forest aflame. We are running in the blackness of dense wood, with thick, white tendrils choking our lungs, the ocean-light above smothered by the dense foliage and smoke overhead. I can hear my companions running and then I realize they have gone back for the halfling. I can not turn back. My legs have control of my mind, and they go west. The wall of fire is faster than we are--much faster. The fire is closing. Chameleon is down, burned and asphyxiated—dead or unconscious, we know not which, but the halfling, Swift, and I break free of the forest. The halfling runs back into the forest and begins to drag the human, who is twice his size, to safety. Surely, the fire will devour them in a few seconds. Swift attempts to leap back into the forest as well, but he is repelled again and again by the intense heat. The fire is almost upon the halfling and the human. Finally, Swift is able to aid the halfling, and Chameleon is brought beyond the boundary of trees into the fresh air of night. They are saved. Their breathing is labored and one of their number is unconscious, yet they are alive. We retreat to the ruins of the bakemono camp, west of us, and it becomes a base of operations, for a time. In the days to come, the Chameleon curses the fire, irrationally blaming it for his loss of honor (if indeed, his collapse was even such a loss). And, although Intelligent Chameleon Survives vehemently denies it, we all wonder if it was his spell casting that ignited the fire that nearly claimed our lives. [i]DM note: it was actually the halfling who first identified the fire for what it was. While Chameleon was still trying to figure out what my description meant (he envisioned a bunch of glowing red eyes), Fighting Man Dances (whose player had actually seen a forest fire, as had I; we're brothers) immediately recognized the peril. The halfling most certainly saved the lives of the party with his quick thinking. The reason that this does not come out in the story is because, well, he's a halfling.[/i] [/QUOTE]
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