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Travels through the Wild West: the Isle of Dread
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 84641" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Thanks, guys! Glad you're enjoying the story. This is one of the wonders of the internet, IMO: the opportunity to communicate with people from places far, far away from Sacramento, California. </p><p></p><p>Maldur: I was only in the Netherlands once, briefly, but I thought it was a beautiful country. Amsterdam was... well, it was pretty amazing. </p><p></p><p>* * * * * </p><p></p><p>Book III, Part 11</p><p></p><p>Barely a cloud marred the bright blue expanse of the sky over the Isle of Dread as the sun rose steadily higher. It shone brightly on the column of travelers that had already covered many miles since the coming of the dawn that day, leaving the village of Tanaroa and the massive black wall far behind them. They followed a clearly marked but infrequently used track that wound steadily toward the northwest, across the flowing grasses of a lightly forested savanna. </p><p></p><p>Four native warriors served as guides, although it had been clearly established that they would only accompany the group for the first leg of the journey, to a complex of tar pits a few days’ travel along the path. That was as far as the <em>Inselvolk</em> dared to travel, and even that distance brought considerable dangers from the denizens of the savanna. The companions and the survivors from <em>Raindancer</em> took a cue from the native warriors and alertly scanned the grassy expanse that stretched to either side, wary of hidden dangers that might suddenly threaten them. </p><p></p><p>With the aid of J’kal and the rest of her people, they were as prepared as they could hope to be. They had restocked their packs with fresh supplies, and topped off the contents of the bag of holding as well. They’d remained an extra day in Tanaroa after their second consultation with the matriarch, at Cal’s request. While the added rest was welcome, the main purpose of the delay was for Cal to complete the researches he’d begun with the discovery of the orc wizard’s spellbook. While many of the spells contained therein proved to be beyond his area of specialization, and thus useless to him, the new spell formulas did open his mind to several new applications of his own magic. His experience had put him on the cusp of a new breakthrough, and by the time they left the village he had several new, more powerful spells at his disposal. </p><p></p><p>They were all growing more skilled, tempered by the harsh challenges that they had faced. Even the crewmembers of the <em>Raindancer</em>, who had never expected to be thrust into such mortal danger, were advancing beyond their training as common sailors. Under the threat of constant battle, and the tutelage given by Lok and the other fighters, the few remaining sailors were finding themselves honing their skills as warriors. </p><p></p><p>They would likely need that experience before this journey was complete. </p><p></p><p>Their group had suffered another reduction in size, as well. After the meeting with J’kal, when the course had been set for them, they gathered as a group, to discuss their prospects. All knew that the journey ahead would be difficult, given the horrors they had already faced in this strange new world. Horath spoke frankly to what was left of his crew, offering them the choice of pressing on ahead in search of the Well of Worlds, or remaining behind with the peaceful Inselvolk. J’kal had extended the generous offer to integrate any who remained into the four tribes of her people. </p><p></p><p>In the end, three of the sailors elected to stay behind, and three decided to accompany the group on their quest. The three that went on with them were Maric, Horath’s loyal bosun, a young woman from Neverwinter of mixed human and elven blood named Elewyhn, or ‘Elly’, as she preferred to be called, and a brawler they’d hired on in Velen, a stout, muscular tough named Varrus. All had a slightly nervous look about them, which was understandable given what had happened to most of their fellows. The Tanaroans had gifted the sailors with new garments of spun flax to replace their ravaged sailor tunics, colorful red shirts that seemed a little out of place on the dangerous trail.</p><p></p><p>As the morning gave over into afternoon the narrow stretch of the isthmus opened out onto a broad plain, as they moved deeper into the interior of the isle. A line of uneven hills rose up to their east, while to the west the green line of the jungle was visible across the horizon. </p><p></p><p>Their warrior guides found them a campsite sheltered among a dense cluster of old dead logs, and there they passed a watchful but uneventful night. When the sun rose on the new day they were already moving, eating up the miles with a slow but steady pace. </p><p></p><p>At one point Cal took out his lute and started to sing a traveling song, but the look of pure terror that the four native warriors shot his way led him to quickly put away the instrument. </p><p></p><p>“Sure are jumpy,” Benzan said. </p><p></p><p>“As you said before, they no doubt have good reason,” Delem replied. </p><p></p><p>“I was thinking… about that gemstone that brought us here,” Dana said. “Who do you think put it onboard the ship? Was it an accident that it brought us here, or was that the intent all along, do you think?”</p><p></p><p>“By the fury of that storm, I’d guess that the intent was just to kill us,” Cal offered. “But who…? That’s a tough one, given all the people that we’ve managed to anger lately.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, let’s see…” Benzan said, ticking each point off on his fingers. “There were the hobgoblins, of course, and the church of Cyric, plus those shade-guys… Oh, and the Nelanther pirates… don’t know if they’re organized enough to pull something like this off, but maybe that minotaur had a powerful friend… Whoever was living in that tower with the strange lightning-birds… Did I leave anyone out?”</p><p></p><p>“Don’t forget the cleric of Mask,” Lok chimed in. Benzan nodded, and glanced reflexively down at the pouch at his belt. </p><p></p><p>“Wow,” Dana said. “Looks like I picked the right group to travel with, if I wanted to be in constant danger for my life.”</p><p></p><p>“We tried to warn you,” Benzan said, but his attention was only partly on the ongoing conversation. The native warriors, he saw, had all turned their attention to the low hills to their east, the nearest of which were only a little more than a bowshot’s distance from the trail. </p><p></p><p>Cal noted Benzan’s interest. “What is it?” he asked. </p><p></p><p>“I don’t know, but they seem to be—”</p><p></p><p>He was cut off as a sound echoed from the hills, a low roar that filled the air around them and then quickly faded. The warriors exchanged a look that the companions were well familiar with, from the many times they had faced danger. </p><p></p><p>“Viele Köpfe, viele Köpfe!” the warriors said, following the exclamation with a quick barrage of words in their singsong language. Dana did not have time to cast her spell of comprehending languages, so they could not understand the words, but the meaning was clear as the warriors gestured for them to move off the trail and take cover in the tall grass and tangled knots of brush nearby. </p><p> </p><p>“Feelie cope-fa,” Benzan said, as they hustled into the cover of the deep grass. “I don’t think I like the sound of that, whatever it is…”</p><p></p><p>Even as they took shelter they could hear the sound again, nearer now, perhaps. </p><p></p><p>“By the gods…” one of the sailors said, as the source of the noise became visible, emerging out of the hills. </p><p></p><p>It was a huge beast, its long reptilian form carried forward by thick, muscled legs. Five serpentine heads erupted from its neck, each topped with a gaping maw full of razor-sharp teeth. Those heads swept in different directions across the savanna, as if seeking them out. </p><p></p><p>“Feelie cope-fa,” Benzan said, but his jaw was clenched as he said it. </p><p></p><p>The creature’s heads scanned the surrounding area for a moment longer. </p><p></p><p>Then it began to move in their direction.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 84641, member: 143"] Thanks, guys! Glad you're enjoying the story. This is one of the wonders of the internet, IMO: the opportunity to communicate with people from places far, far away from Sacramento, California. Maldur: I was only in the Netherlands once, briefly, but I thought it was a beautiful country. Amsterdam was... well, it was pretty amazing. * * * * * Book III, Part 11 Barely a cloud marred the bright blue expanse of the sky over the Isle of Dread as the sun rose steadily higher. It shone brightly on the column of travelers that had already covered many miles since the coming of the dawn that day, leaving the village of Tanaroa and the massive black wall far behind them. They followed a clearly marked but infrequently used track that wound steadily toward the northwest, across the flowing grasses of a lightly forested savanna. Four native warriors served as guides, although it had been clearly established that they would only accompany the group for the first leg of the journey, to a complex of tar pits a few days’ travel along the path. That was as far as the [I]Inselvolk[/I] dared to travel, and even that distance brought considerable dangers from the denizens of the savanna. The companions and the survivors from [I]Raindancer[/I] took a cue from the native warriors and alertly scanned the grassy expanse that stretched to either side, wary of hidden dangers that might suddenly threaten them. With the aid of J’kal and the rest of her people, they were as prepared as they could hope to be. They had restocked their packs with fresh supplies, and topped off the contents of the bag of holding as well. They’d remained an extra day in Tanaroa after their second consultation with the matriarch, at Cal’s request. While the added rest was welcome, the main purpose of the delay was for Cal to complete the researches he’d begun with the discovery of the orc wizard’s spellbook. While many of the spells contained therein proved to be beyond his area of specialization, and thus useless to him, the new spell formulas did open his mind to several new applications of his own magic. His experience had put him on the cusp of a new breakthrough, and by the time they left the village he had several new, more powerful spells at his disposal. They were all growing more skilled, tempered by the harsh challenges that they had faced. Even the crewmembers of the [I]Raindancer[/I], who had never expected to be thrust into such mortal danger, were advancing beyond their training as common sailors. Under the threat of constant battle, and the tutelage given by Lok and the other fighters, the few remaining sailors were finding themselves honing their skills as warriors. They would likely need that experience before this journey was complete. Their group had suffered another reduction in size, as well. After the meeting with J’kal, when the course had been set for them, they gathered as a group, to discuss their prospects. All knew that the journey ahead would be difficult, given the horrors they had already faced in this strange new world. Horath spoke frankly to what was left of his crew, offering them the choice of pressing on ahead in search of the Well of Worlds, or remaining behind with the peaceful Inselvolk. J’kal had extended the generous offer to integrate any who remained into the four tribes of her people. In the end, three of the sailors elected to stay behind, and three decided to accompany the group on their quest. The three that went on with them were Maric, Horath’s loyal bosun, a young woman from Neverwinter of mixed human and elven blood named Elewyhn, or ‘Elly’, as she preferred to be called, and a brawler they’d hired on in Velen, a stout, muscular tough named Varrus. All had a slightly nervous look about them, which was understandable given what had happened to most of their fellows. The Tanaroans had gifted the sailors with new garments of spun flax to replace their ravaged sailor tunics, colorful red shirts that seemed a little out of place on the dangerous trail. As the morning gave over into afternoon the narrow stretch of the isthmus opened out onto a broad plain, as they moved deeper into the interior of the isle. A line of uneven hills rose up to their east, while to the west the green line of the jungle was visible across the horizon. Their warrior guides found them a campsite sheltered among a dense cluster of old dead logs, and there they passed a watchful but uneventful night. When the sun rose on the new day they were already moving, eating up the miles with a slow but steady pace. At one point Cal took out his lute and started to sing a traveling song, but the look of pure terror that the four native warriors shot his way led him to quickly put away the instrument. “Sure are jumpy,” Benzan said. “As you said before, they no doubt have good reason,” Delem replied. “I was thinking… about that gemstone that brought us here,” Dana said. “Who do you think put it onboard the ship? Was it an accident that it brought us here, or was that the intent all along, do you think?” “By the fury of that storm, I’d guess that the intent was just to kill us,” Cal offered. “But who…? That’s a tough one, given all the people that we’ve managed to anger lately.” “Yeah, let’s see…” Benzan said, ticking each point off on his fingers. “There were the hobgoblins, of course, and the church of Cyric, plus those shade-guys… Oh, and the Nelanther pirates… don’t know if they’re organized enough to pull something like this off, but maybe that minotaur had a powerful friend… Whoever was living in that tower with the strange lightning-birds… Did I leave anyone out?” “Don’t forget the cleric of Mask,” Lok chimed in. Benzan nodded, and glanced reflexively down at the pouch at his belt. “Wow,” Dana said. “Looks like I picked the right group to travel with, if I wanted to be in constant danger for my life.” “We tried to warn you,” Benzan said, but his attention was only partly on the ongoing conversation. The native warriors, he saw, had all turned their attention to the low hills to their east, the nearest of which were only a little more than a bowshot’s distance from the trail. Cal noted Benzan’s interest. “What is it?” he asked. “I don’t know, but they seem to be—” He was cut off as a sound echoed from the hills, a low roar that filled the air around them and then quickly faded. The warriors exchanged a look that the companions were well familiar with, from the many times they had faced danger. “Viele Köpfe, viele Köpfe!” the warriors said, following the exclamation with a quick barrage of words in their singsong language. Dana did not have time to cast her spell of comprehending languages, so they could not understand the words, but the meaning was clear as the warriors gestured for them to move off the trail and take cover in the tall grass and tangled knots of brush nearby. “Feelie cope-fa,” Benzan said, as they hustled into the cover of the deep grass. “I don’t think I like the sound of that, whatever it is…” Even as they took shelter they could hear the sound again, nearer now, perhaps. “By the gods…” one of the sailors said, as the source of the noise became visible, emerging out of the hills. It was a huge beast, its long reptilian form carried forward by thick, muscled legs. Five serpentine heads erupted from its neck, each topped with a gaping maw full of razor-sharp teeth. Those heads swept in different directions across the savanna, as if seeking them out. “Feelie cope-fa,” Benzan said, but his jaw was clenched as he said it. The creature’s heads scanned the surrounding area for a moment longer. Then it began to move in their direction. [/QUOTE]
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