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The Things We Lost -- Update 6/13 - Eberron fiction.
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<blockquote data-quote="ragboy" data-source="post: 3471895" data-attributes="member: 4151"><p>Book folded his right arm across his chest and then extended his hand to the receding barge as it rounded a bend downriver. </p><p></p><p>“What in the Pit are you doing?” Verloot complained, struggling up the soft bank. “You think those dregs are long lost sword brothers or something?” </p><p></p><p>“Merely offering my blessing to safe travel,” Book intoned, turning to the task of reaching slightly drier ground. “It isn’t often you find an honest barge captain plying these waters.”</p><p></p><p>“If twice the price and half the speed are honest, I’ll take a cheat anytime.”</p><p></p><p>“Quiet you two,” Kath hissed. “And look alive.”</p><p></p><p>She gestured to a collection of skulls decorating lances thrust askew into the soft ground at the trailhead. Some of the heads looked a little too fresh for her liking. The sweet scent of rot sickened her.</p><p></p><p>The fresh-faced mercenary, the only one to accompany them off of the boat, looked wide-eyed at the display. </p><p></p><p>“Another warm welcome,” Verloot snorted. “Well, get your jaw off the ground, sell-sword. You’re not exactly giving us good feelings about your martial prowess with that reaction.”</p><p></p><p>The young man hefted his spear and followed as the gnome rushed ahead of them, turning the corner on the trail. </p><p></p><p>“Don’t mind him. He’s always a bit on edge,” Kath said, keeping pace with the man. “What is your name, by the way?”</p><p></p><p>“Staver. Morren Staver, and I don’t mind him, actually. I’ve had sergeants that would kick my tailbone up between my ears for less,” the man said. “It’s an honor to continue to serve you. I watched the Battle of the Mounds from the infirmary tent.” He gestured to the thick, ugly scar running from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow. “Your unit distinguished itself well on the field.” </p><p></p><p>Kath held her tongue, not because she didn’t agree, but that Morren surprised her. He didn’t look old enough to have been out of his mother’s arms during that battle. </p><p></p><p>“Thank you,” she finally said, then patted the heavy sword at her side. “Your captain was kind enough to part with this, but we can use every sword we can get.” </p><p></p><p>“I’m sure he didn’t let it go for less than thrice its worth,” Staver snorted. “Teech wasn’t much of a soldier, but he’s nothing if not a pennywise.”</p><p></p><p>“If only it were pennies he demanded for it,” Kath said, smiling. </p><p></p><p>Up ahead, they heard the gnome gasp and then grunt.</p><p></p><p>“Verloot!” Kath called, edging around the bend in the trail. </p><p></p><p>The fat gnome stood with his hands above his head surrounded by deep black lizardkin. The lead lizard’s head fan expanded as it spotted the shifter, then croaked a command and three of the heavily muscled creatures swiveled their spears to meet her. She stopped and held her hands out, the young mercenary bringing his spear to bear beside her. Book continued past without a care, pushing the man’s spear into the mud as he uttered a few phrases in the creatures’ tongue. He gestured as he continued walking toward the leader of the band. As if mesmerized, the hooded lizard gave a barking hiss that could pass for a laugh then his voice rose an octave to a piercing chirp. Three times the lizardkin made this call. His companions melted into the jungle, and he turned and trudged on up the trail without a backward glance. </p><p></p><p>“So?” the gnome asked, his hands still above his head. </p><p></p><p>“They are Blackscale. The T’eck tribe…or clan. I can never keep their organizations straight.” Book said. </p><p></p><p>“I don’t care about their family history. What are they going to do?” Verloot murmured out of the corner of his mouth. </p><p></p><p>“What did you tell them, Book?” Kath asked, lowering her arms and resting her hand casually on the hilt of the sword she’d purchased from Teech. She was aware of the yellow eyes still watching from the jungle. </p><p></p><p>“That I am a scholar of Morgrave seeking enlightenment on the various tribes hereabouts,” Book said. “And that the gnome is my servant.” </p><p></p><p>“Servant, eh?” the gnome grunted, straightening his wig. “Do I overstep my station if I tell you to go jump in the thrice damned river?”</p><p></p><p>“Probably. But, walk three paces behind me lest they see through my ruse, tear your throat out and plant our heads on their pikes.” Book said, following the lizardkin’s path up the trail. </p><p></p><p>By the time they arrived at the first mulch-mound hut, a steady hot rain began to fall. Lizardkin, large and small, moved about village clustered in the shadows of massive trees and cluttered undergrowth. A large mound rose near the center of the sprawling camp and a covered firepit smoked dismally in the rain. A cluster of larger, fanned lizardfolk crouched in the mud there. Kath recognized the patrol leader who was engaged in animated conversation with a huge specimen of his kin, obviously a chieftain. She noticed the chief’s left arm ended in a ragged stump and a badly healed wound scarred his chest and side. </p><p></p><p>The patrol leader leapt up and moved toward them, beckoning Book to the firepit. Kath followed, though she kept her distance and crouched under the boughs of a heavy bush nearby, letting the heavy pack full of supplies drop to the ground. Book hissed a stream of words and the lizardfolk all replied with various grunts and chirps.</p><p></p><p>The scarred lizardfolk began speaking. Book, who remained standing, bobbed his head similarly to those that clustered around their chieftain, before replying and executing an awkward twist of his head. </p><p></p><p>“He says that there are four major clans of Blackscale near the river here,” the warforged said without turning his eyes away from the creature. “Theirs is the largest clan, though he could be lying. They are an arrogant lot.” </p><p></p><p>“Fantastic,” the gnome said, but Kath cautioned him with a look. </p><p></p><p>“Any word of another party moving through here or of the shifters we fought?” Kath asked. </p><p></p><p>Book did not answer, but began speaking to the chieftain again. The conversation became animated, and the massive Blackscale rose, its tail thrashing. His minions, all fairly large for their size and similarly scarred rose with him. </p><p></p><p>“Book?” Kath said easing to her feet. </p><p></p><p>“It’s fine,” the warforged replied, waving her down. “They are passionate, nothing more.” </p><p></p><p>He exchanged a few more words with the chief, and the creature seemed to calm, settling back to a crouch. Book chanted a handful of arcane words. Two images appeared next to him: A thin older man in Karrnathi armor and one of the tentacled horrors they’d fought. Though the chieftain appeared nonplussed by the illusion, his minions jumped, hands going to their spears. The Blackscale chief issued a grunt-hiss laugh and offered a skewer of what appeared to be giant sewer rat to the warforged. Book took the gift and bit off a hunk. Raising the rat in a kind of salute, he passed it to the next lizardkin in the circle and without pretense turned to his companions. </p><p></p><p>“He says that a large party passed through his lands about three weeks ago,” Book said, pulling Kath to her feet. “Stay behind me, Verloot,” he said sharply to the gnome’s grunt.</p><p></p><p>“What about…” Verloot began. </p><p></p><p>“No!” Book said, rounding on him. “Speak only when I speak to you.” He then continued. “The shifters are recent invaders of their territories. Many Blackscale have died trying to drive them off. They don’t seem to have a singular location or home, but wander the woods and rivers.”</p><p></p><p>“And our quarry,” Kath asked, warily walking beside the warforged. Burning yellow eyes followed them as they made their way through the village.</p><p></p><p>“The man leading the party is indeed Thiel, though Kthe’etch says that he had an odd smell.”</p><p></p><p>“We all have odd smells after a week in the damned jungle, ‘forged,” Verloot put in. </p><p></p><p>A troop of smaller Blackscale, obviously adolescents, loped into their wake, then overtook them and fanned out into the brush ahead. Each carried a long javelin in their throwing hands and a lumpy bag over their shoulders. </p><p></p><p>“What’s this?” Verloot said watching the lizardfolk all but disappear into the jungle. </p><p></p><p>“Our guides and protectors. These creatures are a little more sophisticated than you think,” Book answered, as they reached the edge village. “They tracked the party to the next clan territory and followed them deeper into the jungle.” </p><p></p><p>“Where?” Kath asked, eyeing the last moldering hut as they stepped into the rainy jungle. </p><p></p><p>“To the <em>Mountain that Ate the City</em>,” Book quoted.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="ragboy, post: 3471895, member: 4151"] Book folded his right arm across his chest and then extended his hand to the receding barge as it rounded a bend downriver. “What in the Pit are you doing?” Verloot complained, struggling up the soft bank. “You think those dregs are long lost sword brothers or something?” “Merely offering my blessing to safe travel,” Book intoned, turning to the task of reaching slightly drier ground. “It isn’t often you find an honest barge captain plying these waters.” “If twice the price and half the speed are honest, I’ll take a cheat anytime.” “Quiet you two,” Kath hissed. “And look alive.” She gestured to a collection of skulls decorating lances thrust askew into the soft ground at the trailhead. Some of the heads looked a little too fresh for her liking. The sweet scent of rot sickened her. The fresh-faced mercenary, the only one to accompany them off of the boat, looked wide-eyed at the display. “Another warm welcome,” Verloot snorted. “Well, get your jaw off the ground, sell-sword. You’re not exactly giving us good feelings about your martial prowess with that reaction.” The young man hefted his spear and followed as the gnome rushed ahead of them, turning the corner on the trail. “Don’t mind him. He’s always a bit on edge,” Kath said, keeping pace with the man. “What is your name, by the way?” “Staver. Morren Staver, and I don’t mind him, actually. I’ve had sergeants that would kick my tailbone up between my ears for less,” the man said. “It’s an honor to continue to serve you. I watched the Battle of the Mounds from the infirmary tent.” He gestured to the thick, ugly scar running from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow. “Your unit distinguished itself well on the field.” Kath held her tongue, not because she didn’t agree, but that Morren surprised her. He didn’t look old enough to have been out of his mother’s arms during that battle. “Thank you,” she finally said, then patted the heavy sword at her side. “Your captain was kind enough to part with this, but we can use every sword we can get.” “I’m sure he didn’t let it go for less than thrice its worth,” Staver snorted. “Teech wasn’t much of a soldier, but he’s nothing if not a pennywise.” “If only it were pennies he demanded for it,” Kath said, smiling. Up ahead, they heard the gnome gasp and then grunt. “Verloot!” Kath called, edging around the bend in the trail. The fat gnome stood with his hands above his head surrounded by deep black lizardkin. The lead lizard’s head fan expanded as it spotted the shifter, then croaked a command and three of the heavily muscled creatures swiveled their spears to meet her. She stopped and held her hands out, the young mercenary bringing his spear to bear beside her. Book continued past without a care, pushing the man’s spear into the mud as he uttered a few phrases in the creatures’ tongue. He gestured as he continued walking toward the leader of the band. As if mesmerized, the hooded lizard gave a barking hiss that could pass for a laugh then his voice rose an octave to a piercing chirp. Three times the lizardkin made this call. His companions melted into the jungle, and he turned and trudged on up the trail without a backward glance. “So?” the gnome asked, his hands still above his head. “They are Blackscale. The T’eck tribe…or clan. I can never keep their organizations straight.” Book said. “I don’t care about their family history. What are they going to do?” Verloot murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “What did you tell them, Book?” Kath asked, lowering her arms and resting her hand casually on the hilt of the sword she’d purchased from Teech. She was aware of the yellow eyes still watching from the jungle. “That I am a scholar of Morgrave seeking enlightenment on the various tribes hereabouts,” Book said. “And that the gnome is my servant.” “Servant, eh?” the gnome grunted, straightening his wig. “Do I overstep my station if I tell you to go jump in the thrice damned river?” “Probably. But, walk three paces behind me lest they see through my ruse, tear your throat out and plant our heads on their pikes.” Book said, following the lizardkin’s path up the trail. By the time they arrived at the first mulch-mound hut, a steady hot rain began to fall. Lizardkin, large and small, moved about village clustered in the shadows of massive trees and cluttered undergrowth. A large mound rose near the center of the sprawling camp and a covered firepit smoked dismally in the rain. A cluster of larger, fanned lizardfolk crouched in the mud there. Kath recognized the patrol leader who was engaged in animated conversation with a huge specimen of his kin, obviously a chieftain. She noticed the chief’s left arm ended in a ragged stump and a badly healed wound scarred his chest and side. The patrol leader leapt up and moved toward them, beckoning Book to the firepit. Kath followed, though she kept her distance and crouched under the boughs of a heavy bush nearby, letting the heavy pack full of supplies drop to the ground. Book hissed a stream of words and the lizardfolk all replied with various grunts and chirps. The scarred lizardfolk began speaking. Book, who remained standing, bobbed his head similarly to those that clustered around their chieftain, before replying and executing an awkward twist of his head. “He says that there are four major clans of Blackscale near the river here,” the warforged said without turning his eyes away from the creature. “Theirs is the largest clan, though he could be lying. They are an arrogant lot.” “Fantastic,” the gnome said, but Kath cautioned him with a look. “Any word of another party moving through here or of the shifters we fought?” Kath asked. Book did not answer, but began speaking to the chieftain again. The conversation became animated, and the massive Blackscale rose, its tail thrashing. His minions, all fairly large for their size and similarly scarred rose with him. “Book?” Kath said easing to her feet. “It’s fine,” the warforged replied, waving her down. “They are passionate, nothing more.” He exchanged a few more words with the chief, and the creature seemed to calm, settling back to a crouch. Book chanted a handful of arcane words. Two images appeared next to him: A thin older man in Karrnathi armor and one of the tentacled horrors they’d fought. Though the chieftain appeared nonplussed by the illusion, his minions jumped, hands going to their spears. The Blackscale chief issued a grunt-hiss laugh and offered a skewer of what appeared to be giant sewer rat to the warforged. Book took the gift and bit off a hunk. Raising the rat in a kind of salute, he passed it to the next lizardkin in the circle and without pretense turned to his companions. “He says that a large party passed through his lands about three weeks ago,” Book said, pulling Kath to her feet. “Stay behind me, Verloot,” he said sharply to the gnome’s grunt. “What about…” Verloot began. “No!” Book said, rounding on him. “Speak only when I speak to you.” He then continued. “The shifters are recent invaders of their territories. Many Blackscale have died trying to drive them off. They don’t seem to have a singular location or home, but wander the woods and rivers.” “And our quarry,” Kath asked, warily walking beside the warforged. Burning yellow eyes followed them as they made their way through the village. “The man leading the party is indeed Thiel, though Kthe’etch says that he had an odd smell.” “We all have odd smells after a week in the damned jungle, ‘forged,” Verloot put in. A troop of smaller Blackscale, obviously adolescents, loped into their wake, then overtook them and fanned out into the brush ahead. Each carried a long javelin in their throwing hands and a lumpy bag over their shoulders. “What’s this?” Verloot said watching the lizardfolk all but disappear into the jungle. “Our guides and protectors. These creatures are a little more sophisticated than you think,” Book answered, as they reached the edge village. “They tracked the party to the next clan territory and followed them deeper into the jungle.” “Where?” Kath asked, eyeing the last moldering hut as they stepped into the rainy jungle. “To the [I]Mountain that Ate the City[/I],” Book quoted. [/QUOTE]
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