Travels through the Wild West: the Isle of Dread
Lazybones
Adventurer
I like the way that scene between Dana and Delem came together. Maybe because I've been in Delem's shoes before (haven't we all) and knew how he would feel.
Horacio: yes, it hit me about halfway through the scene! I almost had Cal say, "We are now a part of the tribe!" but figured that would be a little too obvious.
* * * * *
Book III, Part 17
The morning brought with it a sudden shower that seemed to last just long enough to soak them all before it lifted, the heat returning with a vengeance even before the final drops made their way down to the forest floor. With grumbles and complaints, despite the hearty breakfast offered by their hosts, the companions loaded up their gear again and made their way down the rope ladder, ready to set out once again on their journey.
They saw the elder Rakos only briefly, and they exchanged only a few brief well-wishes that were not translated by another magical spell. They were joined at the base of the phanaton tree by Charek, who indicated with gestures that they companions were to follow him. They spent the bulk of that morning slogging through the jungle after the agile phanaton, who had little difficulty making his way though the lower reaches of the forest canopy above them. By the noon break they all felt worn out, the benefits of the previous night’s rest already squandered.
There was nothing to do but push on, so they did.
Delem looked perhaps the worst off, with dark rings under his eyes indicating that he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Benzan teased him a little, but the dark look that the young man shot him was enough to make even the tiefling back off. Dana remained near the front of the column, and didn’t say much to either of them.
They finally reached the end of the jungle as the sun was setting, and their guide led them to a sheltered campsite situated at the border between forest and hills. True to Rakos’s word, they could see numerous caves visible along the jagged lines of these hills, which were rougher and less overgrown than the ones further to the south that they’d already traversed. Charek indicated with gestures that most of the caves were uninhabited by hostile creatures, but they kept up a close watch anyway as they made their camp.
Nothing molested them that night, however, and with the next day they made better time even with the ruggedness of the terrain. Now that they were free of the jungle they could see that they had in fact made considerable progress in the direction of the mountains, which now dominated the horizon ahead of them to the north. Now that there were no more trees, Charek was forced to move alongside the rest of them, but the agile creature was still able to drive them to a wearying pace.
By midafternoon they could see the gap in the mountains ahead that marked the valley, and by the time that the sun had touched the western horizon they had progressed far enough to see the dense woods that filled the confines of the pass. The day had seemed almost preternaturally still, as if the very world around them slept, but none of them complained about their good fortune. For once, no strange and horrible creature had appeared to threaten them, and they were in fairly good spirits as they found another sheltered campsite and prepared for the coming night.
Their luck held, and the second consecutive night passed uneventfully. With the morning, however, Charek took his leave of them. The small phanaton indicated with gestures that the route up into the valley led straight along their current course, but before he turned to leave, he went to Cal and offered him a small ceramic vial taken from a pocket of his leather harness.
“Hágale fuerte,” the small creature said, pantomiming drinking the liquid and then flexing its muscles.
“Thank you,” Cal said, taking the potion. “Your people have been very generous to us.” Although the phanaton could not understand the words, he nodded at the gratitude in Cal’s tone, and turned to regard them one last time.
“Buena suerte,” he said, and then turned and departed, running swiftly over the hills back toward the shelter of his jungle home.
“You might as well take this,” Cal said to Lok, handing him the potion of strength. “Is everyone ready?” the gnome asked, waiting for everyone’s nod before he turned back toward the opening of the valley and led them out again.
“Ugh. I hate spiders,” Elly said, as their next challenge grew steadily nearer.
* * * * *
The hike up into the valley wasn’t that difficult, and they reached the edge of the forest by late morning. The place didn’t seem all that forbidding at first, and in fact they could hear birds singing in the boughs as they entered the outer reaches, and wildflowers grew in patches in sunny clearings between the clusters of trees. Behind them the entire southern half of the island spread out in a glorious panorama, and beyond that the blue expanse of the ocean stretched out as far as they could see to the distant horizons.
After a brief rest for lunch, they started out again. The ground here was rockier than the lowlands, and they’d gained some altitude in their hike, so the forest wasn’t as dense or verdant as the jungles they’d traveled through earlier. The ground continued to slope up as they made their way deeper into the wood, and soon all of them were sweating again despite the cooler air.
About an hour into the forest, the mood around them began to change. The forest grew noticeably darker as the boughs above them began to thicken and grow together, and the smell of rotting vegetation that carpeted the forest floor contrasted sharply with the earlier smells of the sea breeze and wildflowers.
And then they encountered the webs.
Just wisps at first, the webs quickly became thicker, the gooey strands forming walls between the trunks of adjacent trees. They weren’t enough to bar their passage, but provided a grim reminder that dark things lurked in this forest, and that they were drawing nearer to the danger that the phanatons had warned them about.
Finally, they emerged at the edge of a wide clearing dominated by three massive trees, their trunks ascending high into the sky like towers. The branches of the trees were clotted with webs, making it difficult for them to see what, if anything, might be lurking in their depths. They could just make out what looked like a small hut at the base of one of the trees, or it might have just been a pile of old dead wood and trash overgrown with exposed roots. The whole scene was quiet—too quiet.
“I don’t like the looks of this place,” Benzan said.
“Why don’t we just go around?” Lok suggested.
“If there is an enemy here, I’d just as soon not leave it at my back, as we stumble through the woods looking for the pass,” Benzan returned.
“It feels like someone—or something—is watching us,” Dana observed.
“All right then, let’s check it out,” Cal said. “But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, of course.” He launched into his typical routine, protecting himself, Dana, and Delem with mage armor from his wand. While he did that, Dana summoned her own power to enhance Lok’s endurance once again, and Ruath added a spell of her own to boost Benzan’s strength. Thus bolstered, they headed cautiously into the clearing.
As they neared, they could make out a terrible sight, half-hidden in the shadows at the base of the largest tree. At the base of the trunk, forming a ring around its massive girth, were at least a half-dozen captives. To their horror the companions realized that the prisoners had apparently been crucified, their blood-splattered and half-naked bodies staked spread-eagled against the wood. Furthermore, the captives, though apparently human, were not of the Inselfolk, but by their appearances could easily have been from their own home regions in Faerûn. Most of them hung limply, held up only by the pinions driven through their bodies, but one of them looked up as they neared, his lips parting in a silent call as he tried in vain to entreat them—or warn them.
“By the gods,” Horath said, and several of the others had to fight the gorge that threatened to rise in their throats at the terrible sight.
Lok had already started forward, his jaw tightening at this abuse of thinking creatures.
“Wait,” Cal said. “It could be a trap.”
“Well, of course it’s a trap,” Benzan said, his tone betraying his own anger. “Why don’t we shake one of those trees, and see what comes out? Think you could manage one of those flame-streams from here, Delem?”
“Do what you will, I’m going to help those people,” Lok said, and he continued toward the tree with grim determination. Ruath followed him, but the others hesitated, knowing that they were probably being led to this very course by still-unseen adversaries.
“Wait here,” Cal finally said to Horath and the sailors, while he, Dana, Delem, and Benzan hurried after Lok and Ruath.
They entered the area under the massive forms of the trees, their web-shrouded branches reaching out as far as fifty paces from their trunks. The webs made a canopy of sorts directly above their heads, but nothing stirred from within them as they approached the tree where the imprisoned captives hung helplessly.
They kept alert for the slightest sign of danger, their eyes darting both around the uneven ground around the bases of the trees and up to the web-choked branches above. Lok’s attention, however, was focused entirely on the poor wretches held prisoner. Had he been less intent on rescuing them from their bonds, he might have noticed that their bodies, though marked with grievous wounds and lots of blood, all appeared to be roughly identical.
He realized his mistake, however, when he reached out to touch the broken body of the first captive, and his hand passed through empty air.
“They’re illusions!” he yelled, in warning to the others.
But the warning came too late—the attack had already begun.
Horacio: yes, it hit me about halfway through the scene! I almost had Cal say, "We are now a part of the tribe!" but figured that would be a little too obvious.
* * * * *
Book III, Part 17
The morning brought with it a sudden shower that seemed to last just long enough to soak them all before it lifted, the heat returning with a vengeance even before the final drops made their way down to the forest floor. With grumbles and complaints, despite the hearty breakfast offered by their hosts, the companions loaded up their gear again and made their way down the rope ladder, ready to set out once again on their journey.
They saw the elder Rakos only briefly, and they exchanged only a few brief well-wishes that were not translated by another magical spell. They were joined at the base of the phanaton tree by Charek, who indicated with gestures that they companions were to follow him. They spent the bulk of that morning slogging through the jungle after the agile phanaton, who had little difficulty making his way though the lower reaches of the forest canopy above them. By the noon break they all felt worn out, the benefits of the previous night’s rest already squandered.
There was nothing to do but push on, so they did.
Delem looked perhaps the worst off, with dark rings under his eyes indicating that he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Benzan teased him a little, but the dark look that the young man shot him was enough to make even the tiefling back off. Dana remained near the front of the column, and didn’t say much to either of them.
They finally reached the end of the jungle as the sun was setting, and their guide led them to a sheltered campsite situated at the border between forest and hills. True to Rakos’s word, they could see numerous caves visible along the jagged lines of these hills, which were rougher and less overgrown than the ones further to the south that they’d already traversed. Charek indicated with gestures that most of the caves were uninhabited by hostile creatures, but they kept up a close watch anyway as they made their camp.
Nothing molested them that night, however, and with the next day they made better time even with the ruggedness of the terrain. Now that they were free of the jungle they could see that they had in fact made considerable progress in the direction of the mountains, which now dominated the horizon ahead of them to the north. Now that there were no more trees, Charek was forced to move alongside the rest of them, but the agile creature was still able to drive them to a wearying pace.
By midafternoon they could see the gap in the mountains ahead that marked the valley, and by the time that the sun had touched the western horizon they had progressed far enough to see the dense woods that filled the confines of the pass. The day had seemed almost preternaturally still, as if the very world around them slept, but none of them complained about their good fortune. For once, no strange and horrible creature had appeared to threaten them, and they were in fairly good spirits as they found another sheltered campsite and prepared for the coming night.
Their luck held, and the second consecutive night passed uneventfully. With the morning, however, Charek took his leave of them. The small phanaton indicated with gestures that the route up into the valley led straight along their current course, but before he turned to leave, he went to Cal and offered him a small ceramic vial taken from a pocket of his leather harness.
“Hágale fuerte,” the small creature said, pantomiming drinking the liquid and then flexing its muscles.
“Thank you,” Cal said, taking the potion. “Your people have been very generous to us.” Although the phanaton could not understand the words, he nodded at the gratitude in Cal’s tone, and turned to regard them one last time.
“Buena suerte,” he said, and then turned and departed, running swiftly over the hills back toward the shelter of his jungle home.
“You might as well take this,” Cal said to Lok, handing him the potion of strength. “Is everyone ready?” the gnome asked, waiting for everyone’s nod before he turned back toward the opening of the valley and led them out again.
“Ugh. I hate spiders,” Elly said, as their next challenge grew steadily nearer.
* * * * *
The hike up into the valley wasn’t that difficult, and they reached the edge of the forest by late morning. The place didn’t seem all that forbidding at first, and in fact they could hear birds singing in the boughs as they entered the outer reaches, and wildflowers grew in patches in sunny clearings between the clusters of trees. Behind them the entire southern half of the island spread out in a glorious panorama, and beyond that the blue expanse of the ocean stretched out as far as they could see to the distant horizons.
After a brief rest for lunch, they started out again. The ground here was rockier than the lowlands, and they’d gained some altitude in their hike, so the forest wasn’t as dense or verdant as the jungles they’d traveled through earlier. The ground continued to slope up as they made their way deeper into the wood, and soon all of them were sweating again despite the cooler air.
About an hour into the forest, the mood around them began to change. The forest grew noticeably darker as the boughs above them began to thicken and grow together, and the smell of rotting vegetation that carpeted the forest floor contrasted sharply with the earlier smells of the sea breeze and wildflowers.
And then they encountered the webs.
Just wisps at first, the webs quickly became thicker, the gooey strands forming walls between the trunks of adjacent trees. They weren’t enough to bar their passage, but provided a grim reminder that dark things lurked in this forest, and that they were drawing nearer to the danger that the phanatons had warned them about.
Finally, they emerged at the edge of a wide clearing dominated by three massive trees, their trunks ascending high into the sky like towers. The branches of the trees were clotted with webs, making it difficult for them to see what, if anything, might be lurking in their depths. They could just make out what looked like a small hut at the base of one of the trees, or it might have just been a pile of old dead wood and trash overgrown with exposed roots. The whole scene was quiet—too quiet.
“I don’t like the looks of this place,” Benzan said.
“Why don’t we just go around?” Lok suggested.
“If there is an enemy here, I’d just as soon not leave it at my back, as we stumble through the woods looking for the pass,” Benzan returned.
“It feels like someone—or something—is watching us,” Dana observed.
“All right then, let’s check it out,” Cal said. “But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, of course.” He launched into his typical routine, protecting himself, Dana, and Delem with mage armor from his wand. While he did that, Dana summoned her own power to enhance Lok’s endurance once again, and Ruath added a spell of her own to boost Benzan’s strength. Thus bolstered, they headed cautiously into the clearing.
As they neared, they could make out a terrible sight, half-hidden in the shadows at the base of the largest tree. At the base of the trunk, forming a ring around its massive girth, were at least a half-dozen captives. To their horror the companions realized that the prisoners had apparently been crucified, their blood-splattered and half-naked bodies staked spread-eagled against the wood. Furthermore, the captives, though apparently human, were not of the Inselfolk, but by their appearances could easily have been from their own home regions in Faerûn. Most of them hung limply, held up only by the pinions driven through their bodies, but one of them looked up as they neared, his lips parting in a silent call as he tried in vain to entreat them—or warn them.
“By the gods,” Horath said, and several of the others had to fight the gorge that threatened to rise in their throats at the terrible sight.
Lok had already started forward, his jaw tightening at this abuse of thinking creatures.
“Wait,” Cal said. “It could be a trap.”
“Well, of course it’s a trap,” Benzan said, his tone betraying his own anger. “Why don’t we shake one of those trees, and see what comes out? Think you could manage one of those flame-streams from here, Delem?”
“Do what you will, I’m going to help those people,” Lok said, and he continued toward the tree with grim determination. Ruath followed him, but the others hesitated, knowing that they were probably being led to this very course by still-unseen adversaries.
“Wait here,” Cal finally said to Horath and the sailors, while he, Dana, Delem, and Benzan hurried after Lok and Ruath.
They entered the area under the massive forms of the trees, their web-shrouded branches reaching out as far as fifty paces from their trunks. The webs made a canopy of sorts directly above their heads, but nothing stirred from within them as they approached the tree where the imprisoned captives hung helplessly.
They kept alert for the slightest sign of danger, their eyes darting both around the uneven ground around the bases of the trees and up to the web-choked branches above. Lok’s attention, however, was focused entirely on the poor wretches held prisoner. Had he been less intent on rescuing them from their bonds, he might have noticed that their bodies, though marked with grievous wounds and lots of blood, all appeared to be roughly identical.
He realized his mistake, however, when he reached out to touch the broken body of the first captive, and his hand passed through empty air.
“They’re illusions!” he yelled, in warning to the others.
But the warning came too late—the attack had already begun.
drnuncheon
Explorer
MasterOfHeaven said:I *know* powergaming.Which is why I don't think the Genasi really are an appropiate ECL+1 race. I am also aware that several people hold this viewpoint.
Well, some genasi aren't. Air genasi, for example, pretty much have the effects of a necklace of adaptation for free, plus the ability to cast levitate. That's not too shabby at all!
I think the easiest way to pump up the earth genasi - should you feel a need to - is to give them a +1 natural armor bonus. Natural armor is one of the harder types of armor bonus to get, and it would be a big help, especially at low levels - and at high levels the racial bonuses tend to pale in comparison with the class abilities anyway.
Another option, should you want to play up the inherently magical natures of the race, is to give them bonuses to cast spells that match with their element - enhanced caster levels or a higher DC for the saves. I would also use their unmodified charisma for dealing with creatures of their own element.
Now, back to the story...
J
drnuncheon
Explorer
Lazybones said:
Actually, the rakshasa were creatures from Indian (that's Indian as in Hindu, not Indian as in Native American) folklore - they were shapechanging, flesh-eating creatures whose name translates literally as "destroyers". The funky powers were pretty much taken out of myth and legend.
The rakasta in IoD were probably designed as generic cat-people, and then given the name because they vaguely resembled the classical pictures of tiger-headed rakshasa.
J
Lazybones
Adventurer
drnuncheon: thanks for the info! One of the things I love about D&D is how it is so inclusive of global, not just western, myths and stories.
* * * * *
Book III, Part 18
Fooled by their understandable emotional responses to a particularly terrible illusion, the companions came under attack from still-hidden adversaries.
A sudden lassitude fell over them, a feeling of lethargy that penetrated their bodies and settled deep within their very bones. Those with a particularly strong force of will—Delem, Dana, and Ruath—were able to fight off the effect, but Lok, Cal, and Benzan each felt themselves slowing, their reactions dulled by fell magic.
“There!” Delem cried in warning, as a dark form shuffled in the webs above. Their eyes turned as one as a giant spider appeared along one of the lower branches, moving within the cover of the webs. The creature twisted and pointed its abdomen at Lok, releasing a slender thread of webbing at the slowed fighter. The webs gathered around him like a net, pinning him against the surface of the tree as he struggled to free himself.
From around the base of the nearest tree came a pair of additional adversaries, tall and powerfully built humanoids with gray fur, pointed ears, and uneven, fanged maws that snarled in challenge as they spotted the adventurers. They carried heavy morningstars and multiple throwing axes stuck through the bandoliers that they wore across their chests.
Cal recognized the creatures instantly, although this pair seemed far more imposing than those he had encountered in the Western Heartlands back in Faerûn. “Bugbears!” he cried in warning, although his slowed reflexes kept him from reacting further in time. The bugbears launched their first volley of missiles at the embattled companions, hitting both Delem and Dana despite the benefit of the protective mage armor.
Back at the edge of the clearing, Horath and the sailors witnessed the attack upon their companions. The elf captain yelled a cry of battle and hefted his bow, charging to their aid. The others followed after him, with Varrus lagging slightly in the rear. They had barely managed a few paces, however, before both Maric and Elly staggered and collapsed, falling into magical sleep. Horath turned and saw what had happened, and retreated to the side of his unconscious crewmembers, while Varrus scanned the trees for signs of their attacker, holding his crossbow in nervous hands.
Meanwhile, the rest of the companions were having a difficult time responding to the sudden ambush. The effects of the slowing magic was making it all but impossible for Lok to burst free of the webs that held him, and he could not pull his axe free of the ensnaring webs to cut himself free. For the moment, the mighty warrior was out of the fight.
Dana launched a crossbow bolt at the spider-mage that had immobilized Lok, but while her aim was true the bolt glanced harmlessly aside at the last minute, deflected by an invisible shield that protected the creature. Delem raised his hand to summon his fire against it, but before he could cast the spell a cloud of glittering golden flashes engulfed him and his companions, dazzling them in the brilliance of the display. Delem’s mind, disciplined both by his arcane and divine gifts, allowed him to fight off the afterimage of colors that threatened to blind him, and he called upon the raging magic inside of him. The flames shot up in a roar toward the spider, but it managed to dart backward out of the main course of the stream, taking only minor damage.
Benzan, however, was in far worse shape as he staggered out of the radius of the glitterdust, both slowed and blinded. As he tried to get his bearings, his path took him directly toward the bugbears, who closed eagerly for battle.
Cal had managed to close his eyes at the first explosion of the spell, and although he was still slowed he could just manage to see despite the hanging cloud of particles in the air. He took out his wand of color spray, but could not see any targets within the range of the device. Cursing the magical slowness that gripped his already short legs, he began making his way toward where Benzan had staggered off toward the bugbear warriors.
Ruath, meanwhile, stood overlooked in the center of the battlefield, lost in her focus on her goddess. With the same single-minded determination that had so vexed her companions on this journey, she fought through the haze that separated her from Tymora’s divine power, and released the energies of her patron through a powerful spell. The result was immediate, as the glittering dust vanished, and the slowed companions felt the magical lethargy that had gripped them fade, restoring to them full control over their bodies.
Too late for Benzan, as the first bugbear lashed into him with a mighty blow that knocked him roughly back and nearly sent him sprawling to the ground. He managed to draw his sword and slashed at the second as it rushed at him from the flank, but with his eyes still dazzled from the lingering effects of the glitterdust the stroke missed by a large margin. The bugbear slammed him hard in the chest with its counter, and while the blow was partially absorbed by the tiefling’s magical mail, Benzan still thought he heard a rib crack from the force of the impact.
Lok had not been idle as the battle raged around him. He managed to reach the dagger at his belt, and used it to hack away at the webs holding him. Once he had cut enough to pull himself free, he reached back into the webs and grasped his axe, drawing it out of the clinging strands through brute strength. He could make out moving shadows in the webs above that indicated that the spider-things were still active, but realizing that he could not reach them, he instead lowered his head and charged toward the pair of bugbears that were beating on Benzan.
Thus far, despite the exchange of spells and weapons, neither side had been really blooded in the confrontation thus far, but that was about to change as each side got its measure of their adversaries. While Cal, Benzan, and Lok were engaged with the bugbears, Delem, Dana, and Ruath were left in the center of the battlefield, where the ambush had first begun. Delem was aware of the skittering shadows moving through the webbed branches above, but he suspected that the third creature—the one casting the more powerful spells—was still concealed higher in the boughs. He opened his mind to the arcane power at his command once more, and summoned a sphere of liquid flames atop the highest branch that he could see through the shroud of webs. With an almost frightening intensity etched on his face he guided the sphere along the branch with his mind and then rolled it down to the next. Everywhere the flaming sphere passed webs flared and burned, until a wide swath of angry fire had erupted throughout the lower reaches of the tree.
So intent was he that he barely noticed when a strand of thick webs shot down from another tree behind him, twisting around his legs and binding him securely to the ground. Delem was lost in his magic, and his concentration upon the rampaging sphere remained unbroken.
He could not help but see, though, a dark shadow high in the tree that shifted away from the spreading flames and started down through the webs toward him.
Lok charged into the bugbears, his axe sweeping hard into the first to announce his coming. The frost-edged weapon bit deep, but the creature managed to twist with the force of the blow, turning what might have been a fatal wound into a merely serious one. It immediately countered with a fierce swipe of its morningstar, but Lok was ready and took the blow without flinching on his shield.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he growled, as he raised his axe to attack again.
Cal, meanwhile, had gotten into position to use his wand on the second creature, still menacing the seriously injured Benzan. Before he could act, though, he felt a net of sticky strands engulf his upper body, tangling him hopelessly in their web. He tried to struggle against them, but could only twist in horror as he felt himself being drawn upward.
Where the hungry fangs of a spider-mage waited for him.
The creature that had ensnared Delem was also looking for another target, but it only found an arrow waiting for it, the missile digging deep into its bulbous abdomen. With its attention—and its magical shield—focused on the combatants below it, it was not prepared for Horath and the crewmembers of the Raindancer, finally roused from their magical sleep and now returning to the battle. The spider-thing darted back, retreating back into the webs, but took another hit, a bolt from Maric’s crossbow that stabbed painfully into a leg joint.
Dana fired her crossbow at the spider-mage moving down out of the webs toward them, but this creature too was prepared and her missile was deflected by another shield. Ruath called down a blessing of Tymora upon them, boosting their morale and filling them with the confidence of victory.
Delem’s sphere finally rolled off of a branch and fell to the ground below, landing with a soft burning plop a short distance away. Immobilized by webs, he stared up into the sinister eyes of the spider-mage as it fixed a hateful glare upon him, arcane power flaring in its alien eyes.
Both magic-users, human and alien, began casting, drawing upon their innate magical powers. The spider-mage finished first, and a glowing green arrow appeared from between the prehensile humanoid hands that tipped its front-most limbs, and darted unerringly toward the entangled sorcerer.
“Delem, look out!” Dana cried in warning, but the sorcerer was already lost in his own casting—and he could not have moved away in any case, caught as he was by the webs. Reflex replacing thought, the cleric leapt in front of him and slapped the magical arrow aside with a chop of her hand. As her hand contacted the missile, however, it exploded into a spray of liquid.
Dana screamed in sudden agony as the magical acid of the spell spurted all over her hand and forearm, with fat gobs splashing onto her exposed chest and face. Staggering, she tried to fight off the waves of sickening nausea that rushed through her with the smell of her own burning flesh. The acid continued to burn as she stumbled forward and finally collapsed to the ground, whimpering as the merciless barrage of pain continued unabated.
Delem released the power of his spell into a raging stream of flames that rose from his hands to slam into the face of the spider-mage. Its shield proved of no use at the fire ripped through it to ravage the evil creature. As the webs around it began to catch with the backblast of the spell it darted nimbly backward, seeking shelter from the growing conflagration around it.
It was running out of places where it could go, however. The fires started by Delem’s flaming sphere had already turned much of the lower branches into an inferno, which continued to grow as each strand of webbing turned into a brief flare. Large pieces of burning foliage were falling to the ground around the battling companions, and the fire threatened to spread to the other trees as well, all connected to the same lattice of webs.
Delem felt the roar of the flames, and the surge of power that flowed like life itself through his veins. His eyes followed the course of the spider-mage as it sought escape, and he summoned another flaming sphere onto the branches above it, directly in its path. The creature let out an angry cry in its own unfathomable language, and tried to twist away, darting down another branch with the flames close behind it.
Just a dozen paces away, the battle on the ground continued. Lok and his adversary faced off, but with the genasi firmly planted and ready it rapidly became a very uneven contest. The bugbear was clearly an experienced and canny fighter, but Lok’s axe swept through its defenses the same way that Delem’s flames were sweeping through the webs above. A stroke from that axe tore open a deep gash in the bugbear’s armored belly, and even as it raised its morningstar to counter Lok suddenly brought the axe back around in a vicious backstroke, chopping into the creature’s knee with so much force that the bugbear went down, like a sapling felled with a single blow of the woodman’s axe. Even as it bled out its last Lok was already charging toward the second creature.
Benzan gave ground against his adversary, using his new sword to parry the powerful attacks of the bugbear. The magically enhanced bronze of the blade was proving stronger than the best dwarf-forged steel, although the shock of each impact told him that one more solid connect might bring a rapid end to this battle. His own counters, though, were not proving very effective, glancing off of the unmatched but effective pieces of crude plate that the bugbear wore about its person.
A roar and the sound of clanking armor, however, told him that he’d managed to hold out long enough. “Looks like your time is up,” he said to the bugbear.
The bugbear couldn’t understand him, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of Lok charging into battle. He only turned slightly, to better shift his defenses against two opponents, but it was enough. Taking advantage of the lapse of concentration on the part of the bugbear, Benzan struck, the bronze blade stabbing deep into the throat of his opponent. The bugbear’s eyes widened in surprise as he staggered back, and he fell easy prey to a mighty swing of Lok’s axe.
“Damn,” Benzan said, trying to shake off the haze of pain from his wounds. He looked up to see flames raging all around them, as the trees seemed to be rapidly turning into pyres.
Then he heard a muffled groan behind him, and turned around to see Cal dangling high in the air above him, just a few feet from the fangs of the spider-mage that was rapidly drawing him closer.
“Cal!” he cried, knowing that he would never get his bow readied in time.
Cal continued his struggles against the web, but was so entangled that he could neither cast a spell nor move his wand where it might have a chance against the creature. He could see the fires Delem had started moving through the branches of the trees, but saw that they would never reach this creature in time. He looked up, and stared right into the eyes of the spider-mage. The eagerness there was palpable, and the gnome felt a sudden dread as the creature tugged him up the last few feet.
And then, at the last instant, he heard a raging growl from behind it, as a celestial badger appeared from nowhere and landed square on the thing’s back.
Delem harried the spider-mage mercilessly as it sought escape from his flames. Finally, it could flee no longer, and turned again to face him, its little hands moving in the gestures of a spell. Delem was ready for it, however, and a final stream of fire shot up into the trees, engulfing it in a raging inferno that it could not escape. The creature let out one last scream and fell, landing in a smoldering heap on the hard ground thirty feet below.
Delem felt a surge of exhilaration mixed with weariness as the madness of the flames retreated. His blood suddenly froze, though, as he looked down and recognized the form lying unmoving on the ground just a few feet away.
“Dana!” he tried to reach her, but the webs still held him fast. “Dana!” he screamed in frustration and grief, tearing at the strands with his hands. Ignoring the pain, he summoned a fan of fire that knifed through the webs and scorched his own legs, and thus freed dove immediately to the side of the stricken priestess.
“Dana,” he sobbed, turning her over as he cradled her in his lap. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her hand—now just a blackened, bloody claw, with the white of bone showing through—and the horrible acid burns on her face and chest.
Thrown off balance by the sudden attack of the summoned badger, the spider-mage lost its grip on the branch. Badger, spider, and gnome fell to the ground in a tangled heap. The spider-mage managed to shake off the badger, which had been stunned by the fall, and turned to seek the fastest route of escape.
It found Lok and Benzan instead.
The final creature, seriously wounded by the fire of Horath and his crew, had retreated high up into the boughs of its tree. It was clear that its sanctuary was only temporary, however, as the flames continued to spread, threatening to ultimately turn all three trees into great flaring torches. Bits and pieces of flaming matter continued to fall in a steady shower around the battlefield, and it was clear that soon the victors would also be claimed by the fire, if they didn’t retreat.
Ruath arrived where Delem was holding Dana, tears streaking the young man’s face as he tried to summon healing. For a moment, it seemed as if he was too late… but then, as the halfling watched, the familiar blue glow spread from the man to the woman, and Dana took a deep breath of life into her lungs. The halfling saw the woman’s hand, though, and knew that even her talents would not be able to restore that injury.
With Dana stabilized, the companions quickly gathered themselves up and hurried out of the radius of the inferno, Lok cradling the crippled young woman in his powerful arms. They made it to the edge of the clearing just as the dying screams of the final spider-mage reached them, and they made their way quickly back into the shelter of the forest, leaving the burning pillars of the three trees behind them.
* * * * *
Book III, Part 18
Fooled by their understandable emotional responses to a particularly terrible illusion, the companions came under attack from still-hidden adversaries.
A sudden lassitude fell over them, a feeling of lethargy that penetrated their bodies and settled deep within their very bones. Those with a particularly strong force of will—Delem, Dana, and Ruath—were able to fight off the effect, but Lok, Cal, and Benzan each felt themselves slowing, their reactions dulled by fell magic.
“There!” Delem cried in warning, as a dark form shuffled in the webs above. Their eyes turned as one as a giant spider appeared along one of the lower branches, moving within the cover of the webs. The creature twisted and pointed its abdomen at Lok, releasing a slender thread of webbing at the slowed fighter. The webs gathered around him like a net, pinning him against the surface of the tree as he struggled to free himself.
From around the base of the nearest tree came a pair of additional adversaries, tall and powerfully built humanoids with gray fur, pointed ears, and uneven, fanged maws that snarled in challenge as they spotted the adventurers. They carried heavy morningstars and multiple throwing axes stuck through the bandoliers that they wore across their chests.
Cal recognized the creatures instantly, although this pair seemed far more imposing than those he had encountered in the Western Heartlands back in Faerûn. “Bugbears!” he cried in warning, although his slowed reflexes kept him from reacting further in time. The bugbears launched their first volley of missiles at the embattled companions, hitting both Delem and Dana despite the benefit of the protective mage armor.
Back at the edge of the clearing, Horath and the sailors witnessed the attack upon their companions. The elf captain yelled a cry of battle and hefted his bow, charging to their aid. The others followed after him, with Varrus lagging slightly in the rear. They had barely managed a few paces, however, before both Maric and Elly staggered and collapsed, falling into magical sleep. Horath turned and saw what had happened, and retreated to the side of his unconscious crewmembers, while Varrus scanned the trees for signs of their attacker, holding his crossbow in nervous hands.
Meanwhile, the rest of the companions were having a difficult time responding to the sudden ambush. The effects of the slowing magic was making it all but impossible for Lok to burst free of the webs that held him, and he could not pull his axe free of the ensnaring webs to cut himself free. For the moment, the mighty warrior was out of the fight.
Dana launched a crossbow bolt at the spider-mage that had immobilized Lok, but while her aim was true the bolt glanced harmlessly aside at the last minute, deflected by an invisible shield that protected the creature. Delem raised his hand to summon his fire against it, but before he could cast the spell a cloud of glittering golden flashes engulfed him and his companions, dazzling them in the brilliance of the display. Delem’s mind, disciplined both by his arcane and divine gifts, allowed him to fight off the afterimage of colors that threatened to blind him, and he called upon the raging magic inside of him. The flames shot up in a roar toward the spider, but it managed to dart backward out of the main course of the stream, taking only minor damage.
Benzan, however, was in far worse shape as he staggered out of the radius of the glitterdust, both slowed and blinded. As he tried to get his bearings, his path took him directly toward the bugbears, who closed eagerly for battle.
Cal had managed to close his eyes at the first explosion of the spell, and although he was still slowed he could just manage to see despite the hanging cloud of particles in the air. He took out his wand of color spray, but could not see any targets within the range of the device. Cursing the magical slowness that gripped his already short legs, he began making his way toward where Benzan had staggered off toward the bugbear warriors.
Ruath, meanwhile, stood overlooked in the center of the battlefield, lost in her focus on her goddess. With the same single-minded determination that had so vexed her companions on this journey, she fought through the haze that separated her from Tymora’s divine power, and released the energies of her patron through a powerful spell. The result was immediate, as the glittering dust vanished, and the slowed companions felt the magical lethargy that had gripped them fade, restoring to them full control over their bodies.
Too late for Benzan, as the first bugbear lashed into him with a mighty blow that knocked him roughly back and nearly sent him sprawling to the ground. He managed to draw his sword and slashed at the second as it rushed at him from the flank, but with his eyes still dazzled from the lingering effects of the glitterdust the stroke missed by a large margin. The bugbear slammed him hard in the chest with its counter, and while the blow was partially absorbed by the tiefling’s magical mail, Benzan still thought he heard a rib crack from the force of the impact.
Lok had not been idle as the battle raged around him. He managed to reach the dagger at his belt, and used it to hack away at the webs holding him. Once he had cut enough to pull himself free, he reached back into the webs and grasped his axe, drawing it out of the clinging strands through brute strength. He could make out moving shadows in the webs above that indicated that the spider-things were still active, but realizing that he could not reach them, he instead lowered his head and charged toward the pair of bugbears that were beating on Benzan.
Thus far, despite the exchange of spells and weapons, neither side had been really blooded in the confrontation thus far, but that was about to change as each side got its measure of their adversaries. While Cal, Benzan, and Lok were engaged with the bugbears, Delem, Dana, and Ruath were left in the center of the battlefield, where the ambush had first begun. Delem was aware of the skittering shadows moving through the webbed branches above, but he suspected that the third creature—the one casting the more powerful spells—was still concealed higher in the boughs. He opened his mind to the arcane power at his command once more, and summoned a sphere of liquid flames atop the highest branch that he could see through the shroud of webs. With an almost frightening intensity etched on his face he guided the sphere along the branch with his mind and then rolled it down to the next. Everywhere the flaming sphere passed webs flared and burned, until a wide swath of angry fire had erupted throughout the lower reaches of the tree.
So intent was he that he barely noticed when a strand of thick webs shot down from another tree behind him, twisting around his legs and binding him securely to the ground. Delem was lost in his magic, and his concentration upon the rampaging sphere remained unbroken.
He could not help but see, though, a dark shadow high in the tree that shifted away from the spreading flames and started down through the webs toward him.
Lok charged into the bugbears, his axe sweeping hard into the first to announce his coming. The frost-edged weapon bit deep, but the creature managed to twist with the force of the blow, turning what might have been a fatal wound into a merely serious one. It immediately countered with a fierce swipe of its morningstar, but Lok was ready and took the blow without flinching on his shield.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he growled, as he raised his axe to attack again.
Cal, meanwhile, had gotten into position to use his wand on the second creature, still menacing the seriously injured Benzan. Before he could act, though, he felt a net of sticky strands engulf his upper body, tangling him hopelessly in their web. He tried to struggle against them, but could only twist in horror as he felt himself being drawn upward.
Where the hungry fangs of a spider-mage waited for him.
The creature that had ensnared Delem was also looking for another target, but it only found an arrow waiting for it, the missile digging deep into its bulbous abdomen. With its attention—and its magical shield—focused on the combatants below it, it was not prepared for Horath and the crewmembers of the Raindancer, finally roused from their magical sleep and now returning to the battle. The spider-thing darted back, retreating back into the webs, but took another hit, a bolt from Maric’s crossbow that stabbed painfully into a leg joint.
Dana fired her crossbow at the spider-mage moving down out of the webs toward them, but this creature too was prepared and her missile was deflected by another shield. Ruath called down a blessing of Tymora upon them, boosting their morale and filling them with the confidence of victory.
Delem’s sphere finally rolled off of a branch and fell to the ground below, landing with a soft burning plop a short distance away. Immobilized by webs, he stared up into the sinister eyes of the spider-mage as it fixed a hateful glare upon him, arcane power flaring in its alien eyes.
Both magic-users, human and alien, began casting, drawing upon their innate magical powers. The spider-mage finished first, and a glowing green arrow appeared from between the prehensile humanoid hands that tipped its front-most limbs, and darted unerringly toward the entangled sorcerer.
“Delem, look out!” Dana cried in warning, but the sorcerer was already lost in his own casting—and he could not have moved away in any case, caught as he was by the webs. Reflex replacing thought, the cleric leapt in front of him and slapped the magical arrow aside with a chop of her hand. As her hand contacted the missile, however, it exploded into a spray of liquid.
Dana screamed in sudden agony as the magical acid of the spell spurted all over her hand and forearm, with fat gobs splashing onto her exposed chest and face. Staggering, she tried to fight off the waves of sickening nausea that rushed through her with the smell of her own burning flesh. The acid continued to burn as she stumbled forward and finally collapsed to the ground, whimpering as the merciless barrage of pain continued unabated.
Delem released the power of his spell into a raging stream of flames that rose from his hands to slam into the face of the spider-mage. Its shield proved of no use at the fire ripped through it to ravage the evil creature. As the webs around it began to catch with the backblast of the spell it darted nimbly backward, seeking shelter from the growing conflagration around it.
It was running out of places where it could go, however. The fires started by Delem’s flaming sphere had already turned much of the lower branches into an inferno, which continued to grow as each strand of webbing turned into a brief flare. Large pieces of burning foliage were falling to the ground around the battling companions, and the fire threatened to spread to the other trees as well, all connected to the same lattice of webs.
Delem felt the roar of the flames, and the surge of power that flowed like life itself through his veins. His eyes followed the course of the spider-mage as it sought escape, and he summoned another flaming sphere onto the branches above it, directly in its path. The creature let out an angry cry in its own unfathomable language, and tried to twist away, darting down another branch with the flames close behind it.
Just a dozen paces away, the battle on the ground continued. Lok and his adversary faced off, but with the genasi firmly planted and ready it rapidly became a very uneven contest. The bugbear was clearly an experienced and canny fighter, but Lok’s axe swept through its defenses the same way that Delem’s flames were sweeping through the webs above. A stroke from that axe tore open a deep gash in the bugbear’s armored belly, and even as it raised its morningstar to counter Lok suddenly brought the axe back around in a vicious backstroke, chopping into the creature’s knee with so much force that the bugbear went down, like a sapling felled with a single blow of the woodman’s axe. Even as it bled out its last Lok was already charging toward the second creature.
Benzan gave ground against his adversary, using his new sword to parry the powerful attacks of the bugbear. The magically enhanced bronze of the blade was proving stronger than the best dwarf-forged steel, although the shock of each impact told him that one more solid connect might bring a rapid end to this battle. His own counters, though, were not proving very effective, glancing off of the unmatched but effective pieces of crude plate that the bugbear wore about its person.
A roar and the sound of clanking armor, however, told him that he’d managed to hold out long enough. “Looks like your time is up,” he said to the bugbear.
The bugbear couldn’t understand him, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of Lok charging into battle. He only turned slightly, to better shift his defenses against two opponents, but it was enough. Taking advantage of the lapse of concentration on the part of the bugbear, Benzan struck, the bronze blade stabbing deep into the throat of his opponent. The bugbear’s eyes widened in surprise as he staggered back, and he fell easy prey to a mighty swing of Lok’s axe.
“Damn,” Benzan said, trying to shake off the haze of pain from his wounds. He looked up to see flames raging all around them, as the trees seemed to be rapidly turning into pyres.
Then he heard a muffled groan behind him, and turned around to see Cal dangling high in the air above him, just a few feet from the fangs of the spider-mage that was rapidly drawing him closer.
“Cal!” he cried, knowing that he would never get his bow readied in time.
Cal continued his struggles against the web, but was so entangled that he could neither cast a spell nor move his wand where it might have a chance against the creature. He could see the fires Delem had started moving through the branches of the trees, but saw that they would never reach this creature in time. He looked up, and stared right into the eyes of the spider-mage. The eagerness there was palpable, and the gnome felt a sudden dread as the creature tugged him up the last few feet.
And then, at the last instant, he heard a raging growl from behind it, as a celestial badger appeared from nowhere and landed square on the thing’s back.
Delem harried the spider-mage mercilessly as it sought escape from his flames. Finally, it could flee no longer, and turned again to face him, its little hands moving in the gestures of a spell. Delem was ready for it, however, and a final stream of fire shot up into the trees, engulfing it in a raging inferno that it could not escape. The creature let out one last scream and fell, landing in a smoldering heap on the hard ground thirty feet below.
Delem felt a surge of exhilaration mixed with weariness as the madness of the flames retreated. His blood suddenly froze, though, as he looked down and recognized the form lying unmoving on the ground just a few feet away.
“Dana!” he tried to reach her, but the webs still held him fast. “Dana!” he screamed in frustration and grief, tearing at the strands with his hands. Ignoring the pain, he summoned a fan of fire that knifed through the webs and scorched his own legs, and thus freed dove immediately to the side of the stricken priestess.
“Dana,” he sobbed, turning her over as he cradled her in his lap. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her hand—now just a blackened, bloody claw, with the white of bone showing through—and the horrible acid burns on her face and chest.
Thrown off balance by the sudden attack of the summoned badger, the spider-mage lost its grip on the branch. Badger, spider, and gnome fell to the ground in a tangled heap. The spider-mage managed to shake off the badger, which had been stunned by the fall, and turned to seek the fastest route of escape.
It found Lok and Benzan instead.
The final creature, seriously wounded by the fire of Horath and his crew, had retreated high up into the boughs of its tree. It was clear that its sanctuary was only temporary, however, as the flames continued to spread, threatening to ultimately turn all three trees into great flaring torches. Bits and pieces of flaming matter continued to fall in a steady shower around the battlefield, and it was clear that soon the victors would also be claimed by the fire, if they didn’t retreat.
Ruath arrived where Delem was holding Dana, tears streaking the young man’s face as he tried to summon healing. For a moment, it seemed as if he was too late… but then, as the halfling watched, the familiar blue glow spread from the man to the woman, and Dana took a deep breath of life into her lungs. The halfling saw the woman’s hand, though, and knew that even her talents would not be able to restore that injury.
With Dana stabilized, the companions quickly gathered themselves up and hurried out of the radius of the inferno, Lok cradling the crippled young woman in his powerful arms. They made it to the edge of the clearing just as the dying screams of the final spider-mage reached them, and they made their way quickly back into the shelter of the forest, leaving the burning pillars of the three trees behind them.
CoopersPale
First Post
Poor Dana!
Love that Badger action though...
I've been reading this for a while now Lazybones. It's damn good stuff - I'd be surprised if there weren't many more lurkers like me out there having a read of this!
And I love Isle of Dread. It's one of my favourites
Post More!
cheers
Bludgeon
Love that Badger action though...
I've been reading this for a while now Lazybones. It's damn good stuff - I'd be surprised if there weren't many more lurkers like me out there having a read of this!
And I love Isle of Dread. It's one of my favourites
Post More!
cheers
Bludgeon
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks, Bludgeon! Lurkers are always welcome, but I hope that everyone at least votes in the poll, it's how I keep track of how many readers I have! (14 so far, since I voted for the badger ) I'm glad people are enjoying the story of the Isle. I try to get updates up first thing in the morning when I get into work (around 8 am Pacific Standard); while I can't write every day, I usually manage to get a little ahead when things are slow at work .
Horacio: yes, the island gets more dangerous the closer to the center you get. The next story post has a... let's call it a precipitous conclusion. See you tomorrow!
) I'm glad people are enjoying the story of the Isle. I try to get updates up first thing in the morning when I get into work (around 8 am Pacific Standard); while I can't write every day, I usually manage to get a little ahead when things are slow at work .Horacio: yes, the island gets more dangerous the closer to the center you get. The next story post has a... let's call it a precipitous conclusion. See you tomorrow!
Lazybones
Adventurer
Book III, Part 19
“I’m sorry,” Ruath said. “There’s nothing more I can do.”
“I understand,” Dana replied. She extended her mangled hand so that the halfling cleric could carefully wrap it in thick strips of cloth, until a soft white ball hid the ruined flesh underneath.
Around the two women, the rest of the companions hovered nearby, curious and concerned about their friend but at the same time reluctant to intrude too closely upon her privacy. After Ruath had finished her ministrations Dana stood up, and as if that were a signal they all turned to face her.
Their flight from the lair of the spider-mages—and their hurried rush through the upper reaches of the valley seemed exactly that—had taken them to the very mouth of the pass that ran into the depths of the mountain range proper. Even though they had been victorious in battle, they all felt the reality of their narrow escape, and every glance at Dana, and the terrible scars she bore, was a reminder of what could have happened to any of them, or all of them. Once they had covered enough ground to leave them safe from the fire, at least for the moment, Delem had used a potent spell of healing from a scroll to restore the stricken young noblewoman to consciousness. While the healing magic had restored the soundness of her body, it could not fully erase the scars that still marked her face and neck, and it could not restore the function to her hand. Nor could the spell heal the haunted look in her eyes when she regained consciousness and reflexively grasped at the wounded hand, at the memory of agonizing pain. Still, she was able to walk after the spell was completed, and wary of spending the night in the forest they elected to press on to the mouth of the pass into the mountains.
“I can go on… we have to go on,” she told them now, as they gathered in the light of the fading sun. “We have no other choice.”
“Ruath told me what you did,” Cal said. “It was a brave thing—had Delem been struck down, we might not have been able to burn those spider-demons from their webbed lairs. Maybe they might have been able to turn their evil illusion into reality. We are in your debt, Dana, and mark this promise—when we return to Faerûn, we will not rest until we have secured the power to restore you fully to health.”
The others added their general assent, but Delem, who remained a short distance apart from the others, could not bear to meet Dana’s eyes. The priestess noticed him, however, and deliberately walked over to him.
“What’s the matter, Delem?” she asked softly.
“I… I’m sorry, Dana,” the young man responded reluctantly. “It’s… it’s my fault that this happened, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s not your fault, lad,” Cal said. “We all fought our hardest, and for each other.”
“You don’t understand,” Delem protested. “I didn’t even see her, didn’t even try to help her! She nearly died, because I was too lost in the magic to even notice!”
To his surprise, it was Benzan who came up to him, forcing him to meet his steel-gray eyes. “If you had seen, and gone immediately to her, what would that… that thing had done? Cal said that those creatures were sorcerers, like you, which means that they can cast the same spells over and over again, until their energies are depleted. What would it have done, if you hadn’t focused on it, burned it out until it had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide? As Cal said, we might all still be there, living out their horrible fantasies of grim torture in truth.”
Benzan’s words took the young man by surprise, but it was Dana who drew his attention back to her. “We’re a team, and we fight together as one,” she said. The fact that she could say that, even with the hurt that still shone fresh in her eyes, finally caught up the young man, and he folded her into his arms in a rush of genuine feeling.
“Just don’t do anything like that again, all right?” Cal said. “Without you, who would translate what strangers say to us, or fill our water flasks, or tell us what wild foods are safe to eat? Honestly, now, Benzan wouldn’t last half the day before he bit into the wrong plant and keeled over dead.”
They all laughed, even Benzan, and it was a healing laugh, one that helped banish the dark feelings that remained from their recent encounter. They broke up and went to their individual tasks as they prepared their camp for the rapidly approaching night, aware that new dangers would challenge them tomorrow as they made their way into the mountains.
* * * * *
They spent the next two days in the mountains, steadily gaining altitude as they hiked up and down through a seemingly endless reach of peaks, ridgelines, and valleys. The mountains weren’t especially high or forbidding, at least by the standard of the great ranges of Faerûn, but nonetheless the companions found themselves digging deep to their inner reserves of fortitude as they made their way deeper into the range.
They had two encounters in their first two days of traveling the mountains, but their luck held and neither ended in a direct confrontation. The first clash, coming late on their first day of hiking up into the reaches of the mountain pass, involved a huge, two-legged dragon-like creature that Cal identified as a wyvern. They sighted the beast high above them, gliding around the peaks like some majestic bird. It saw them and dove for a closer look, but their first volley of missiles as it passed close overhead must have convinced it to seek easier prey elsewhere, for it turned and winged deeper into the mountains, not to return.
The second encounter came the following morning, as they were making their way up a difficult line of ridges, seemingly laid out in a row across their path. As they were passing along a trail that ran beside a row of deep caves a roar startled them, and they found themselves face to face with the largest bear any of them had ever seen. The creature was easily eight feet tall at the shoulder, and for a moment it looked as though their luck had changed as the companions prepared for battle. Delem, however, thinking quickly, summoned one of his rolling balls of fire that blocked its path long enough for them to beat a hasty retreat, and the angry bear did not follow.
Now the sun was rapidly waning on the afternoon of that second day, as the companions approached the crest of yet another ridge. As they reached the crest, fully expecting to see the same identical landscape of peaks and dells that they had encountered over the last two days, they gathered in a collective breath at what lay before them.
Ahead of them, nestled in between the surrounding mountains like a coin cradled in an open hand, stretched a wide plateau. The plateau, easily dozens of miles across, was surrounded on all sides by massive cliffs of slate gray that fell hundreds, if not thousands, of feet into a deep river gorge below. The effect was like that of a deep moat around a fortress, and they could just hear the sounds of rushing water as it plummeted from high mountain streams into the depths of the gorge. Below them, a good hour’s hike from their current vantage point, they could see a thin, tenuous bridge, apparently fashioned of rope and wood, that bridged the gorge and connected the mountains on the near side with the plateau.
And ahead, standing like a lonely pillar in the center of the plateau, was the black mountain.
It looked imposing even at this distance, a great solitary peak that rose up on its perch higher than any of the lesser summits around them. Its top was truncated, a clipped, uneven edge that indicated that the mountain was likely of volcanic origin. No smoke or steam could be seen issuing from within, which was perhaps—hopefully so—a sign that the volcano was long dormant.
None of them had any idea of what they would find there, only that they would have to travel there to find their only hope offered thus far at returning home.
They set camp there on the ridgeline, taking shelter in a recessed cleft in the stone warded by a ring of great boulders worn smooth by the constant wind. It was cold, but not oppressively so, and after a brief meal and setting the watch schedule they huddled down in their blankets and awaited the coming of the new day.
The night passed uneventfully, and the morning dawned on a bleak and dreary day. Storm clouds had blown in from the north, covering the eastern half of the island with the dark haze of rain, and while they were spared that at least the oncoming storm had pushed a cold wind up into the mountains, blowing roughly over their campsite and tugging at their cloaks as they made breakfast.
It would also make crossing the bridge a dicey affair, but none of them felt the need to comment on that obvious fact.
After breakfast they broke camp and made their way down the ridge toward the rope bridge.
“Strange, to see such a construction here,” Horath commented. “I wonder who uses it, keeps it up?”
“We haven’t seen any intelligent creatures since leaving the lowlands,” Delem said. “Maybe it is the ‘gods’ of the Inselvolk.”
No one else had any theories, so they continued in silence toward where the bridge stretched across the gorge. Whoever built it, the bridge seemed fairly sturdy, barely moving at all in the wind despite extending for at least three hundred feet across the gap. On the far side, atop the plateau, all they could see was a flat, windswept expanse of short grasses and scrub brush, with some scattered woods located more to the center, closer to the mountain. No living things were visible, and nothing stirred except the constant whisper of the blowing wind.
They reached the bridge, and Lok tested the sturdy supports that held the handrails and the main strands in place. The ropes were thick, as thick through as Lok’s muscled arms, and whatever fiber they were made from seemed unaffected by the harsh elements of the mountains. The planks of the bridge were weathered but sound, forming a stable walkway a good five feet across. None of the planks of the bridge were missing that they could see, and none of the ropes were frayed.
“Looks sound,” the genasi reported after his examination. He took a few tentative steps out onto the bridge, to test it with his weight, and it held him without complaint.
“Unusual,” Cal said, and he took a moment to cast a minor cantrip. Once the spell was completed he could sense a faint aura of magic about the bridge, although he could not identify the specific sort of magic that was present. One thing was evident, though—it felt very, very old. “There’s an ancient magic here,” he reported to the others, “very faint. I don’t think it’s dangerous, though.”
“Well, if we’re going to cross, let’s do it already,” Varrus said. He was shivering slightly, for the wind blowing through the gorge carried some of the cold air up from the river that flowed far down below.
Cal looked out over the gorge once more. It was a breathtaking sight, one that tugged at the bard’s spirit within him, calling him to a majestic song about the glory of nature’s work. But something else tugged at his senses, a vague unease that made him a little uncomfortable. His gaze traveled again to the black mountain, looming far off in the distance, drawing them to it.
He shook his head, clearing it of the dark sentiment. Varrus was right—standing here wasn’t going to accomplish anything more.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s take it slowly, though, and spaced out—the bridge may seem sound, but I don’t think we should unduly test its limits.”
Lok started across first, of course, his powerful hands holding him steady as he fought his way through the swirling wind. Cal followed behind, going slower as he went hand-over-hand on one of the handrails. The wind tore at him mercilessly, doing its best to dislodge him, but soon he was with Lok on the far side, safe and sound.
The others followed in a steady queue, Delem and Ruath and Dana and Elly. Finally, only Varrus, Horath, and Benzan were left on the mountain side of the gorge, watching as Elly passed the halfway point and pressed on toward the far side of the bridge.
“Why don’t you go next,” Benzan said to Varrus. “I don’t think I can trust myself with you alone, especially with this drop off so conveniently close.”
The sailor shot him a dark look, but he moved quickly to the bridge and started across. His progress was even slower than Cal’s, however, and Elly was already on the plateau side before he managed thirty paces.
“He’s having a tough time of it,” Horath observed. “I’d better follow, in case he needs help.” The elf started after Varrus onto the bridge, leaving Benzan alone. Horath’s presence seemed to add some courage to the sailor, and he picked up his pace some, the agile elf having no problem at all following him despite the swirling wind.
They’d neared the halfway point, and Benzan had just started after them, when they heard the sound.
At first, it seemed just like the shriek of the wind, whistling past them as if angry at their boldness in crossing its gorge. Then the three on the bridge saw the others pointing down the length of the gorge to the east, yelling something that was lost in the wind, and their heads turned as one in that direction.
Two creatures were flying at great speed down the gorge, in their direction. They looked like great birds, their wingspans a good thirty feet across, except that even at this distance they were obvious reptilian, rather than avian, in ancestry. The flying dinosaurs flew like darts on the wind, their wings spread wide to catch the force of the air rushing up from the chasm below.
“Run!” Benzan cried, unsure if his words would be heard over the wind. He could see Varrus standing there, frozen as he stared into the face of onrushing death, but then Horath was beside him, all but pushing the man toward the relative shelter of the far end of the bridge.
Benzan was himself vulnerable, exposed about fifty paces out onto the bridge, but he did not retreat for the shelter of the rocks on the nearer side. Instead, twisting one leg into the supporting strands of the rail to brace himself, he strung his bow and dug out one of his few remaining acid arrows.
The flying reptiles glided up to the bridge, focused on the running forms of Horath and Varrus. The elf could have streaked past the hapless form of his companion, but he remained close by him, and as the creatures closed he too hefted his bow, a long arrow ready to fire.
The companions unleashed a storm of missiles at the lead creature, and even with the vagaries of the sharply blowing wind a few hits were scored. Lok’s arrow, backed by the full power of the minotaur’s bow and his own considerable strength, slammed hard into the flank of the dinosaur, and on the opposite side Benzan’s acid arrow tore through one membranous wing, drawing a shriek of pain from the creature. The wind caused several crossbow bolts from the others to go wide, but even the wind could not affect Delem’s bolts of energy, which scored the creature in the head and torso.
Heavily damaged by the hits, the dinosaur was thrown off its course and it glided under the bridge, diving as the wind carried it rapidly down the gorge to the west. The second creature, however, came on, less than a hundred feet behind the first. Its wings caught the wind and it tore through the air directly for Horath, who sighted and fired. Varrus cried and dove out of the way, his hands spreading as if to embrace the wood planks of the bridge.
Horath’s arrow struck true, hitting the onrushing pteranodon in the chest. Its lashing beak narrowly missed the elf as it darted past, but one wing clipped the edge of the bridge, causing it to sway precipitously. Horath staggered, trying to keep his balance, but he hit the rail and twisted over it. For a moment it looked as though the elf captain was doomed, his companions looking on with their hearts frozen in their chests, but then he managed to grasp onto one of the rope supports, arresting his fall. He dangled there, holding one with one hand as the wind buffeted him madly about. His bow fell out into the void below him, quickly vanishing into the shadows far below.
“KAEL!” screamed Elly, and before the others could stop her she had started out onto the bridge. She’d barely started, however, when she slipped on the still-rocking planks, and had to grab onto the rope railing herself for her very life. Lok rushed out to help her. Varrus, who was just a few feet away, staggered to his feet, but instead of turning to help he headed for the nearest side, toward the plateau.
Benzan was already moving toward the elf, who was unsuccessfully trying to pull himself back up to the bridge. Their combined actions were causing the bridge to continue its dangerous undulation, but Benzan’s steps were sure as he swiftly crossed to where Horath dangled. Bracing himself, he dropped to his knees and grasped the elf’s wrist, gritting his teeth as he started to pull the captain up to safety.
“Look out, Benzan!” the cry carried faintly—but clearly—to his ears. It was Cal’s voice, and the dread carried in the words caused him to glance back over his shoulder.
A third pteranodon was coming straight toward him, it seemed, following the same course as the earlier two toward the center of the bridge. He saw the attacks of his companions, including more arrows and a pair of fiery bolts from Delem that hit it on the side of its body, but did not affect its course. Cal even summoned an illusion, an image of a drake that darted in at it from the side, but whether it was too stupid to notice or unable to change its course it came on, sweeping right over the bridge.
Desperation gave him strength as he pulled Horath up through the gaps in the railing, then he turned to face the onrushing creature. He knew even as he reached for an arrow that he was too late, even before he felt something hard slam into his chest with a force like a battering ram. For an instant, the world spun around him, then his vision cleared and he was aware of the gorge, falling away for what seemed like an endless distance below him. As he twisted in the air he could see the bridge, the railing just a few tantalizing yards away, but it may as well have been a mile.
Of Horath, there was no sign.
And then, he was falling.
“I’m sorry,” Ruath said. “There’s nothing more I can do.”
“I understand,” Dana replied. She extended her mangled hand so that the halfling cleric could carefully wrap it in thick strips of cloth, until a soft white ball hid the ruined flesh underneath.
Around the two women, the rest of the companions hovered nearby, curious and concerned about their friend but at the same time reluctant to intrude too closely upon her privacy. After Ruath had finished her ministrations Dana stood up, and as if that were a signal they all turned to face her.
Their flight from the lair of the spider-mages—and their hurried rush through the upper reaches of the valley seemed exactly that—had taken them to the very mouth of the pass that ran into the depths of the mountain range proper. Even though they had been victorious in battle, they all felt the reality of their narrow escape, and every glance at Dana, and the terrible scars she bore, was a reminder of what could have happened to any of them, or all of them. Once they had covered enough ground to leave them safe from the fire, at least for the moment, Delem had used a potent spell of healing from a scroll to restore the stricken young noblewoman to consciousness. While the healing magic had restored the soundness of her body, it could not fully erase the scars that still marked her face and neck, and it could not restore the function to her hand. Nor could the spell heal the haunted look in her eyes when she regained consciousness and reflexively grasped at the wounded hand, at the memory of agonizing pain. Still, she was able to walk after the spell was completed, and wary of spending the night in the forest they elected to press on to the mouth of the pass into the mountains.
“I can go on… we have to go on,” she told them now, as they gathered in the light of the fading sun. “We have no other choice.”
“Ruath told me what you did,” Cal said. “It was a brave thing—had Delem been struck down, we might not have been able to burn those spider-demons from their webbed lairs. Maybe they might have been able to turn their evil illusion into reality. We are in your debt, Dana, and mark this promise—when we return to Faerûn, we will not rest until we have secured the power to restore you fully to health.”
The others added their general assent, but Delem, who remained a short distance apart from the others, could not bear to meet Dana’s eyes. The priestess noticed him, however, and deliberately walked over to him.
“What’s the matter, Delem?” she asked softly.
“I… I’m sorry, Dana,” the young man responded reluctantly. “It’s… it’s my fault that this happened, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s not your fault, lad,” Cal said. “We all fought our hardest, and for each other.”
“You don’t understand,” Delem protested. “I didn’t even see her, didn’t even try to help her! She nearly died, because I was too lost in the magic to even notice!”
To his surprise, it was Benzan who came up to him, forcing him to meet his steel-gray eyes. “If you had seen, and gone immediately to her, what would that… that thing had done? Cal said that those creatures were sorcerers, like you, which means that they can cast the same spells over and over again, until their energies are depleted. What would it have done, if you hadn’t focused on it, burned it out until it had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide? As Cal said, we might all still be there, living out their horrible fantasies of grim torture in truth.”
Benzan’s words took the young man by surprise, but it was Dana who drew his attention back to her. “We’re a team, and we fight together as one,” she said. The fact that she could say that, even with the hurt that still shone fresh in her eyes, finally caught up the young man, and he folded her into his arms in a rush of genuine feeling.
“Just don’t do anything like that again, all right?” Cal said. “Without you, who would translate what strangers say to us, or fill our water flasks, or tell us what wild foods are safe to eat? Honestly, now, Benzan wouldn’t last half the day before he bit into the wrong plant and keeled over dead.”
They all laughed, even Benzan, and it was a healing laugh, one that helped banish the dark feelings that remained from their recent encounter. They broke up and went to their individual tasks as they prepared their camp for the rapidly approaching night, aware that new dangers would challenge them tomorrow as they made their way into the mountains.
* * * * *
They spent the next two days in the mountains, steadily gaining altitude as they hiked up and down through a seemingly endless reach of peaks, ridgelines, and valleys. The mountains weren’t especially high or forbidding, at least by the standard of the great ranges of Faerûn, but nonetheless the companions found themselves digging deep to their inner reserves of fortitude as they made their way deeper into the range.
They had two encounters in their first two days of traveling the mountains, but their luck held and neither ended in a direct confrontation. The first clash, coming late on their first day of hiking up into the reaches of the mountain pass, involved a huge, two-legged dragon-like creature that Cal identified as a wyvern. They sighted the beast high above them, gliding around the peaks like some majestic bird. It saw them and dove for a closer look, but their first volley of missiles as it passed close overhead must have convinced it to seek easier prey elsewhere, for it turned and winged deeper into the mountains, not to return.
The second encounter came the following morning, as they were making their way up a difficult line of ridges, seemingly laid out in a row across their path. As they were passing along a trail that ran beside a row of deep caves a roar startled them, and they found themselves face to face with the largest bear any of them had ever seen. The creature was easily eight feet tall at the shoulder, and for a moment it looked as though their luck had changed as the companions prepared for battle. Delem, however, thinking quickly, summoned one of his rolling balls of fire that blocked its path long enough for them to beat a hasty retreat, and the angry bear did not follow.
Now the sun was rapidly waning on the afternoon of that second day, as the companions approached the crest of yet another ridge. As they reached the crest, fully expecting to see the same identical landscape of peaks and dells that they had encountered over the last two days, they gathered in a collective breath at what lay before them.
Ahead of them, nestled in between the surrounding mountains like a coin cradled in an open hand, stretched a wide plateau. The plateau, easily dozens of miles across, was surrounded on all sides by massive cliffs of slate gray that fell hundreds, if not thousands, of feet into a deep river gorge below. The effect was like that of a deep moat around a fortress, and they could just hear the sounds of rushing water as it plummeted from high mountain streams into the depths of the gorge. Below them, a good hour’s hike from their current vantage point, they could see a thin, tenuous bridge, apparently fashioned of rope and wood, that bridged the gorge and connected the mountains on the near side with the plateau.
And ahead, standing like a lonely pillar in the center of the plateau, was the black mountain.
It looked imposing even at this distance, a great solitary peak that rose up on its perch higher than any of the lesser summits around them. Its top was truncated, a clipped, uneven edge that indicated that the mountain was likely of volcanic origin. No smoke or steam could be seen issuing from within, which was perhaps—hopefully so—a sign that the volcano was long dormant.
None of them had any idea of what they would find there, only that they would have to travel there to find their only hope offered thus far at returning home.
They set camp there on the ridgeline, taking shelter in a recessed cleft in the stone warded by a ring of great boulders worn smooth by the constant wind. It was cold, but not oppressively so, and after a brief meal and setting the watch schedule they huddled down in their blankets and awaited the coming of the new day.
The night passed uneventfully, and the morning dawned on a bleak and dreary day. Storm clouds had blown in from the north, covering the eastern half of the island with the dark haze of rain, and while they were spared that at least the oncoming storm had pushed a cold wind up into the mountains, blowing roughly over their campsite and tugging at their cloaks as they made breakfast.
It would also make crossing the bridge a dicey affair, but none of them felt the need to comment on that obvious fact.
After breakfast they broke camp and made their way down the ridge toward the rope bridge.
“Strange, to see such a construction here,” Horath commented. “I wonder who uses it, keeps it up?”
“We haven’t seen any intelligent creatures since leaving the lowlands,” Delem said. “Maybe it is the ‘gods’ of the Inselvolk.”
No one else had any theories, so they continued in silence toward where the bridge stretched across the gorge. Whoever built it, the bridge seemed fairly sturdy, barely moving at all in the wind despite extending for at least three hundred feet across the gap. On the far side, atop the plateau, all they could see was a flat, windswept expanse of short grasses and scrub brush, with some scattered woods located more to the center, closer to the mountain. No living things were visible, and nothing stirred except the constant whisper of the blowing wind.
They reached the bridge, and Lok tested the sturdy supports that held the handrails and the main strands in place. The ropes were thick, as thick through as Lok’s muscled arms, and whatever fiber they were made from seemed unaffected by the harsh elements of the mountains. The planks of the bridge were weathered but sound, forming a stable walkway a good five feet across. None of the planks of the bridge were missing that they could see, and none of the ropes were frayed.
“Looks sound,” the genasi reported after his examination. He took a few tentative steps out onto the bridge, to test it with his weight, and it held him without complaint.
“Unusual,” Cal said, and he took a moment to cast a minor cantrip. Once the spell was completed he could sense a faint aura of magic about the bridge, although he could not identify the specific sort of magic that was present. One thing was evident, though—it felt very, very old. “There’s an ancient magic here,” he reported to the others, “very faint. I don’t think it’s dangerous, though.”
“Well, if we’re going to cross, let’s do it already,” Varrus said. He was shivering slightly, for the wind blowing through the gorge carried some of the cold air up from the river that flowed far down below.
Cal looked out over the gorge once more. It was a breathtaking sight, one that tugged at the bard’s spirit within him, calling him to a majestic song about the glory of nature’s work. But something else tugged at his senses, a vague unease that made him a little uncomfortable. His gaze traveled again to the black mountain, looming far off in the distance, drawing them to it.
He shook his head, clearing it of the dark sentiment. Varrus was right—standing here wasn’t going to accomplish anything more.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s take it slowly, though, and spaced out—the bridge may seem sound, but I don’t think we should unduly test its limits.”
Lok started across first, of course, his powerful hands holding him steady as he fought his way through the swirling wind. Cal followed behind, going slower as he went hand-over-hand on one of the handrails. The wind tore at him mercilessly, doing its best to dislodge him, but soon he was with Lok on the far side, safe and sound.
The others followed in a steady queue, Delem and Ruath and Dana and Elly. Finally, only Varrus, Horath, and Benzan were left on the mountain side of the gorge, watching as Elly passed the halfway point and pressed on toward the far side of the bridge.
“Why don’t you go next,” Benzan said to Varrus. “I don’t think I can trust myself with you alone, especially with this drop off so conveniently close.”
The sailor shot him a dark look, but he moved quickly to the bridge and started across. His progress was even slower than Cal’s, however, and Elly was already on the plateau side before he managed thirty paces.
“He’s having a tough time of it,” Horath observed. “I’d better follow, in case he needs help.” The elf started after Varrus onto the bridge, leaving Benzan alone. Horath’s presence seemed to add some courage to the sailor, and he picked up his pace some, the agile elf having no problem at all following him despite the swirling wind.
They’d neared the halfway point, and Benzan had just started after them, when they heard the sound.
At first, it seemed just like the shriek of the wind, whistling past them as if angry at their boldness in crossing its gorge. Then the three on the bridge saw the others pointing down the length of the gorge to the east, yelling something that was lost in the wind, and their heads turned as one in that direction.
Two creatures were flying at great speed down the gorge, in their direction. They looked like great birds, their wingspans a good thirty feet across, except that even at this distance they were obvious reptilian, rather than avian, in ancestry. The flying dinosaurs flew like darts on the wind, their wings spread wide to catch the force of the air rushing up from the chasm below.
“Run!” Benzan cried, unsure if his words would be heard over the wind. He could see Varrus standing there, frozen as he stared into the face of onrushing death, but then Horath was beside him, all but pushing the man toward the relative shelter of the far end of the bridge.
Benzan was himself vulnerable, exposed about fifty paces out onto the bridge, but he did not retreat for the shelter of the rocks on the nearer side. Instead, twisting one leg into the supporting strands of the rail to brace himself, he strung his bow and dug out one of his few remaining acid arrows.
The flying reptiles glided up to the bridge, focused on the running forms of Horath and Varrus. The elf could have streaked past the hapless form of his companion, but he remained close by him, and as the creatures closed he too hefted his bow, a long arrow ready to fire.
The companions unleashed a storm of missiles at the lead creature, and even with the vagaries of the sharply blowing wind a few hits were scored. Lok’s arrow, backed by the full power of the minotaur’s bow and his own considerable strength, slammed hard into the flank of the dinosaur, and on the opposite side Benzan’s acid arrow tore through one membranous wing, drawing a shriek of pain from the creature. The wind caused several crossbow bolts from the others to go wide, but even the wind could not affect Delem’s bolts of energy, which scored the creature in the head and torso.
Heavily damaged by the hits, the dinosaur was thrown off its course and it glided under the bridge, diving as the wind carried it rapidly down the gorge to the west. The second creature, however, came on, less than a hundred feet behind the first. Its wings caught the wind and it tore through the air directly for Horath, who sighted and fired. Varrus cried and dove out of the way, his hands spreading as if to embrace the wood planks of the bridge.
Horath’s arrow struck true, hitting the onrushing pteranodon in the chest. Its lashing beak narrowly missed the elf as it darted past, but one wing clipped the edge of the bridge, causing it to sway precipitously. Horath staggered, trying to keep his balance, but he hit the rail and twisted over it. For a moment it looked as though the elf captain was doomed, his companions looking on with their hearts frozen in their chests, but then he managed to grasp onto one of the rope supports, arresting his fall. He dangled there, holding one with one hand as the wind buffeted him madly about. His bow fell out into the void below him, quickly vanishing into the shadows far below.
“KAEL!” screamed Elly, and before the others could stop her she had started out onto the bridge. She’d barely started, however, when she slipped on the still-rocking planks, and had to grab onto the rope railing herself for her very life. Lok rushed out to help her. Varrus, who was just a few feet away, staggered to his feet, but instead of turning to help he headed for the nearest side, toward the plateau.
Benzan was already moving toward the elf, who was unsuccessfully trying to pull himself back up to the bridge. Their combined actions were causing the bridge to continue its dangerous undulation, but Benzan’s steps were sure as he swiftly crossed to where Horath dangled. Bracing himself, he dropped to his knees and grasped the elf’s wrist, gritting his teeth as he started to pull the captain up to safety.
“Look out, Benzan!” the cry carried faintly—but clearly—to his ears. It was Cal’s voice, and the dread carried in the words caused him to glance back over his shoulder.
A third pteranodon was coming straight toward him, it seemed, following the same course as the earlier two toward the center of the bridge. He saw the attacks of his companions, including more arrows and a pair of fiery bolts from Delem that hit it on the side of its body, but did not affect its course. Cal even summoned an illusion, an image of a drake that darted in at it from the side, but whether it was too stupid to notice or unable to change its course it came on, sweeping right over the bridge.
Desperation gave him strength as he pulled Horath up through the gaps in the railing, then he turned to face the onrushing creature. He knew even as he reached for an arrow that he was too late, even before he felt something hard slam into his chest with a force like a battering ram. For an instant, the world spun around him, then his vision cleared and he was aware of the gorge, falling away for what seemed like an endless distance below him. As he twisted in the air he could see the bridge, the railing just a few tantalizing yards away, but it may as well have been a mile.
Of Horath, there was no sign.
And then, he was falling.
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