TaranTheWanderer
Legend
Congrats to EN and his wife (who plays Shayla) on their new baby. Also to Galeman, our DM, who's getting married this weekend (on my b-day, no less!).
Al-Qarin: Into the Desert (3-1-24)
pogre
Legend
Congrats indeed...wait, no...Forget all this real life stuff! Ignore this bump at your own peril!
Seriously, I'm awed you came back to continue writing this great SH. I know when it started I only had two kids, now I have four - I have increased my workload and resposibilities - so, I totally understand the real life stuff. I have not roleplayed much at all this year. I certainly have not had an active SH for over five years.
EN the first 6 months with a baby can be tough, but hang in there man it gets a lot better.
Good luck Galeman. It's the best/worst life move you have ever made. Fellow married men know exactly what I mean. 15 blissful years for me (in case the better half reads this
).
TaranTheWanderer
Legend
Bump.
Because there could be an update in the works very soon.....
Because there could be an update in the works very soon.....
EternalNewbie
Explorer
Azarek sprinted through the door, turning sharply to his right and pressing his back up against the wall. “Ravens,” he rasped, lifting his shield up to cover his face.
Khalid, standing across from him on the other side of the main doors, readied his spell. A thought nagged at him, something about grain dust, but he quickly pushed it aside. As the first few ravens flew past, he unleashed his magic. A torrent of white hot embers swirled through the door, incinerating dozens of the birds. Shayla cursed and ducked aside as tiny smoking corpses tumbled across the granary, crashing into the back wall. The air inside filled with smoke and the screeches of the dying ravens.
Impressive though it might have looked, the spell did little to diminish the maelstrom of talons and feathers that engulfed them. For every bird felled, ten more took its place, flying through the door to claw and peck at their exposed skin. “Khalid!” Shayla shrieked, trying to protect her face, “do something!”
Edging away from the main door, Khalid tried to maintain his focus. Concentrating through the pain, he brought his magic to bear again, this time angling the flames straight up at the mass of birds whirling above. The smoke became so thick he could barely see the others through the haze. Gagging on the smell of charred carrion, he stumbled backwards toward the small side door.
Gorak spat out the words to a spell, setting both his hands alight with flame. Waving them in front of his face to keep the ravens at bay, he roared over the din. “Azarek!” Gorak roared, “what's that big bitch doing?”
Azarek, faring better than the others thanks to his armor, stepped out in front of the door, the edge of his shield held level with his eyes. An odd ringing filled the air as several birds ricocheted of his metal clad body to fall stunned upon the floor. “Jus sitting there!” he yelled back. “No wait!” He cursed. “It ain't taking the bait. It jus took off.”
The stench and smoke and pain became too much for Khalid. He had expected his spells to have more effect and consequently had only prepared two castings. Groping for the handle of the door, he flung it open, and staggered out into the sunlight. Gorak and Shayla, realizing the situation was turning against them, fled toward the main entrance.
Khalid sidled along the outside of the granary, trying his best to remain unnoticed. Unsure of where the manticore was, he decided to put as much distance between himself and where he knew it had last been. Ravens fluttered around him, swooping and diving as they tried to find a way into the building. From inside, he could hear Gorak shouting in anger and pain. Feeling worse than useless, Khalid continued on. Turning the corner, he realized that he'd made a terrible mistake. The manticore was directly ahead of him. He cringed and was about to run but the beast didn't shower him with spines. It seemed not to have noticed him, and continued on its course, flying away from the village, out over the barren fields that surrounded the town. Having little magic available to deal with an airborne threat, he considered the wisdom of interrupting the creature's flight. He allowed the creature to fly a little further away before resolving to make one last attempt. If the creature was a conjuration, or ensorcelled in some manner, he could yet cause its master some grief. Muttering the words to a spell as quickly and quietly as he could, Khalid unleashed his spell. When the final syllable left his mouth, he stood there slack jawed, blinking in surprise.
Khalid's magic unravelled the spell surrounding the beast. The manticore shimmered and warped back into the form of a young man, who promptly emitted a blood curdling shriek and plummeted several hundred feet to ground. Khalid averted his eyes at the last second, although he knew instantly that the sound of the impact would forevermore haunt his thoughts every time he took to air.*
“Well,” Shayla remarked, emerging from around the side of the granary, with Gorak and Azarek in tow. “I bet he wasn't expecting that.”
“Probably wouldn't have bounced so high if'n he was,” Gorak grunted in agreement. “Nice work, Khalid.” Behind them, the remaining ravens scattered into the sky, the magic binding them ended with the death of their master.
With what Khalid felt was an over abundance of morbid curiosity, Gorak, Shayla and Azarek went to inspect the remains of their fallen foe. Khalid reluctantly tagged along, trailing well behind. A single glimpse told him everything he needed to know. The sorcerer, the boy Garon presumably, had not survived the fall after Khalid had dispelled his shifted form. His broken body lay twisted upon the earth, his threadbare peasant garb, covered with blood. Although he knew the boy had left him little choice, he still felt no elation at their victory. With a sigh, he turned to head back to town, when Azarek brought him up short.
“Whadda ya make of that,” he rasped, nudging the body over with the toe of his boot. Spattered with gore was a long black cloak, made from what appeared to be feathers.
Shayla muttered a few words under her breath and stared intently at the garment. “It's radiating magic,” she said. Bending down, she removed the clasp, then picked it up gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, trying to avoid getting blood on her hands. “No sense leaving it for those yokels in town,” she added. “Gorak, you wanna help me out here?” Khalid glanced over, somewhat unsettled by her tone, but her face was an expressionless mask.
Gorak grumbled out the words to a spell, dousing the cloak a deluge of water. It came instantly clean, the blood running off it in rivulets and pooling at Shayla's feet. In the mid-morning sun, the black feathers shone with an oily sheen. Shaking the water from it, Shayla folded it up and placed it within their magical haversack. A small frown crossed her face as she threw the rucksack over her shoulder. “There's something else...” she trailed off, eyes narrowing in concentration. She moved a few dozen paces away from the body, scanning the ground. Some thirty feet away, she knelt down and picked up a polished black staff, from where it lay hidden in the long grass.
Finding nothing else of interest, and having no desire to gloat over their vanquished enemy, they returned to town. As they approached, doors began to open and people flooded out into the street. Word of the battle spread quickly, and soon the entire village surrounded them. Tears of gratitude dampened more than one cheek, and they were bombarded with thanks from all directions. Somewhat embarrassed and ill at ease in the crowd, Khalid sought to stay close to Gorak and Shayla. Soon, one voice rose above the din.
“The whole village thanks you for what you've done. We don't have much, but what we have, is yours.” The crowd quieted down a little, and a middle aged man with the build of a smith stepped forward. The man's blond hair was fading to grey, but his powerful frame showed little signs of age. Khalid judged him to be some sort of unofficial leader of the town, based on the way the others looked to him.
“I doubt you got anything we need, but thanks anyhow,” Gorak rumbled. “Now, are there any places around here he might hole up? He may have left a few surprises behind, and since we're not going no place today, we might as well take a look.”
The speaker glanced around the gathered crowd. From behind him, a tentative voice spoke up. “The last two times he flew over the town, he came from over the lake. There are some low cliffs over that, that have some crevices and fissure's running through 'em. Might be that there's a place there he coulda found.”
“Right,” Gorak grunted. “In that case, there is something you can do. Somebody lend us a boat.”
A dozen offers were shouted out. Gorak pointed at the man closest to him. “Fine, we'll take yours. That should do 'er.”
“Ah, yes, well there is something else I require,” Khalid added. When they turned and looked at him, he blurted, “Jewellery, yes quite.” Ignoring Gorak's strange look, he continued quickly. “Heirlooms, broaches, rings, earrings, necklaces and the like. I will, yes, will not take much.”
“It's the least we can do,” the blond man replied. “We'll take up a collection. But there ain't no rich folk here, I'm afraid you're gonna be mighty disappointed.”
“Ah, yes, well, no matter.” Khalid replied, indicating that they should head down to the waterfront.
Khalid's spirits sank when they reached the lakeside and he realized the proffered conveyance was little more than a row boat, with an ominously well used bucket resting in the bottom. The owner was about to climb in when Gorak stopped him with a hand on his arm. “We can manage from here,” he rumbled. “Wouldn't want you wandering into anything that went boom.”
Despite his misgivings, the little boat proved seaworthy and with Gorak at the oars, it practically leaped through the water. After a few minutes, the village began to recede into the distance. Some time later, the far side of the lake became more than just a distant smudge on the horizon. Soon, cliffs loomed large overhead, and Gorak changed their course slightly, angling for a rocky beach at their base. Azarek jumped over the side as the boat entered shallow waters, dragging it on to the beach while the others gathered their things.
Shielding his eyes from the sun, Gorak scanned the rock face. “Stay put,” he grunted. “I'll go take a look around.” Shifting form, he flew into the air, racing along the cliffs. He returned mere minutes later, landing in front of them and changing back. “Found it. Ain't too far away. Easy enough to get to.”
After a short walk down the rocky beach, they arrived at the cave. With a frown, Khalid realized that he and Gorak had very different definitions of easy. Still, with the help of a rope hauled up by Gorak, they made it up the twenty feet to the narrow crack in the stone. Muttering a few words under her breath, Shayla used her magic to illuminate the area. What looked from the outside to be nothing more than a small fissure in the rock opened up into a substantial cave. Azarek started to step forward but was stopped by Gorak's hand on his arm. “Might wanna let Khalid check it out first,” he growled.
Khalid uttered a few arcane words and dragged his fingers across his eyes. Peering into the room, he looked for any trace of magical weaves or other unnatural energies, but found nothing. “Ah, it would appear there there are no magical, yes, magical traps or wards securing the area,” he said. Shayla, duplicating the spell, confirmed his assessment with a sigh.
Gorak grunted. “Good. But that don't mean there ain't no traps of a more straight forward sort lying around. Best be careful.”
There was little to see within the tight confines of the cave. Centuries of runoff filtering through the limestone had worn smooth the walls and ceiling. The floor, not surprisingly, was crusted with bird droppings. Already unsettled from the long boat ride, it was all Khalid could do to keep the smell from overwhelming him. Scattered about on the floor of the cave were the boys personal effects. Tattered blankets and pilfered tools were strewn amid a jumble of bones, both fish and animal. Gorak walked over and kicked through a pile of debris that may have been a sleeping pallet, but found nothing of interest.
Shayla moved toward the back of the shelter, sweeping the light in front of her as she moved. At the rear of the refuge, she stopped, focusing the light at her feet. Khalid looked up from the pile of garbage he was gingerly picking through and frowned. “Ah, Shayla? Did you find something?”
“There's a book here,” she said.
“A book?” Khalid asked, his previous unease quickly forgotten. He stood up quickly and joined her.
“Some kind of diary I think,” she continued.
“Ah, of course,” Khalid added, trying to hide his disappointment. When he reached her side however, it was clear that it was not the discovery of the small, tattered sheaf of bound parchment that held her attention. On the floor in front of her lay two poorly preserved corpses. Little more than bones remained, but unlike the rest of the cave, it was clear that these had been carefully arranged, facing each other with their hands intertwined.
“The boy's mother and father,” Shayla said, her tone flat.
“Ah, yes, so it would seem,” Khalid agreed, eyeing Shayla out of the corner of his eye. “Ah, Gorak, I think there's little here of interest, perhaps, yes perhaps it is time to depart.”
“Ayup,” Gorak grunted, sweeping the ground with his foot one final time. “Nothing here but garbage. Let's go.”
Rowing into the wind, the return trip took twice as long. Gorak and Azarek took turns at the oars, holding a steady pace through the swelling waves. It was near dark when they reached the dock, cold, wet and tired. Khalid was grateful for the helpful villagers who directed them to a small house set aside for their use. Within minutes, they were settling into their accommodations while Gorak stoked a fire to ward away the damp chill of the lake. Not wishing to impose upon the hard pressed townsfolk, Khalid pulled some dried rations from the magical haversack and passed them around. Absently chewing on a strip of dried jerky, he sat down. Wearied by the day's events, his eyes were half closed when a knock on the door disturbed him. Seeing a decided lack of motion from his friends, Khalid stood up and walked over to the door, grumbling under his breath. Opening it, he found the tall blond man that had spoken for the village earlier, standing outside.
“Sorry ta bother you, but I've gathered up the things you wanted.” He handed Khalid a small leather pouch. “Everyone gave what they had. Ain't much, like I said, but around here, if you can't eat it or wear it, well, it just ain't much use.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Khalid muttered, feeling somewhat guilty. “If you please, wait here just a moment. He stepped back into the room, and upended the pouch on the table.
“Is there anything else you folks need? I wish we could throw you a proper feast, but the only grain we got left has got to go in the ground.”
“Yes, well, of course we understand the last few months have been trying on you, and no thanks are required. Yes, quite.” Khalid replied, sifting through the small pile of gold and silver jewelry.
“The boats will be on the lake tomorrow, at first light. If you stay a few days, I bet we could do something up half decent.”
“Ah, yes, well, I'm afraid we will be resuming our journey in the morning, so I regret that won't be possible.” He extracted a ring from beneath a tangled spool of gold chain. “Aha!” Khalid exclaimed. Holding it up the light, he examined the stone. An iridescent sheen glittered over the jet black pearl. “Ah, I had not dared to hope I would find what I sought.” Turning to the elder, he asked, “Do you know who this belongs to?”
“Marie, I think.”
“Ah, yes, excellent.” He pulled out a dagger from its sheath on his belt, using the tip to gently pry loose the stone. “This is all I require, yes, quite. You may return the rest to their owners and give this to Marie.” He pulled a glittering red ruby, easily twice the value of the stone he had taken, from the hoard Arbaq had provided them, and handed it to the villager.
The villager looked at him strangely as he tucked the pouch into his shirt. “I'll see that she gets it. If there ain't nothing else, I'll just get out of your way.”
Bidding him goodnight, Khalid retired to his bedroll. Tired as he was, his unsettled thoughts chased away all hope of sleep. Turning over, his gaze fell upon Shayla, sitting cross legged with her back against the wall of the small hut. Through the faint light cast by the dieing coals, he could tell she was awake. In her hands, she held a small book. Feeling his eyes upon her, she glanced up, her dark eyes shining. Unsure of what to say, Khalid finally rolled over, and tried to get some sleep.
They left the small village early in the morning, with little fanfare. More than a few of the locals were awake, busy resuming their daily routines so long interrupted. All waved and offered them a greeting but they didn't stop to exchange pleasantries. Riding out in the plains on summoned horses, within a few hours, the lake and the tiny village were long behind them.
Stopping briefly for lunch, Gorak pulled out their worn map and studied it carefully. “We've got a choice to make. If we keep heading north west, we're gonna hit this big forest here, right in the middle, and while that don't bother me none to much, I'm guessing it's gonna make riding next to impossible.”
“Ah, yes, well, I can't say I'm much in favour of crossing the country on foot.”
“Din't think you'd be. So we got two options then. Turn north and circle around the forest that way. That's gonna take some time and it'll put us pretty far north. Further then we want to be, I think. We're gonna be skirting the tundra up there and that might not be too much fun.”
“Whut's the other choice?” Azarek rasped.
“Due west, right now.” He traced out a line on the map with his finger. “Wit a little luck, we just miss the south part of the forest, and hit this road here, the one leading north outta Caer Morag. It'll get us through the forest quick, and we can turn north west again here, and run straight out to the mountains. I bet we'll be able to see the peaks once we clear the bush.”
“We'll probably run into Dwerro on the road,” Shayla added, not sounding particularly displeased by the prospect.
“Maybe,” Gorak agreed. “But we're a few hundred miles north of Caer Morag and there ain't a lot out here, except this town here in the forest. That's a lot of ground to cover, for them short little bastards, and I can't think they'll be up here in force.”
Changing course, they turned west and headed into the setting sun. That night and the following day proved uneventful. They were truly beyond the reach of civilization now, with nothing but windswept plains stretching around them in all directions. Travelling in their usual fashion, they pushed Khalid's summoned mounts mercilessly to the limits of their endurance, while Gorak circled high overhead, scanning the horizon for threats. Finally, Khalid called a halt amid the quickly fading rays of setting sun. Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, he slid off his mount gingerly and moved to prepare their shelter, when Gorak landed in front of them. His customary scowl was a shade deeper then usual, a fact that Khalid had, over time, learnt to recognize. “Ah, what is it?” he asked wearily.
Scratching absently at his jaw, Gorak grunted. “Maybe nothing. I spotted a line of torches, headed this way. I'm guessing a few dozen men, maybe more.”
“Ah, Dwerro?” Khalid asked, a worried furrow forming on his brow.
“Don't think Dwerro need torches,” Gorak grumbled with a smirk.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Khalid muttered. “Who else would be this far north?”
“Dunno, but I aim to find out. Don't lock the door. And,” he continued quickly when he saw Khalid about to speak, “don't say it.”
Be careful
Gorak barked out a short laugh. “Ain't I always?” He dropped to all fours, his body blurring into the form a large grey wolf. He turned, and bounded out into the darkness.
With a sigh, Khalid tossed the length of rope he kept wrapped around his waist on the ground, and opened their shelter with a gesture. Climbing inside without waiting for Azarek or Shayla, he tossed his pack aside and sat down to wait for Gorak's return.
* Heh, I totally wasn't expecting this (neither was Galeman I don't think...). It never even occured to me that it might be a polymorphed caster, probably because in another 3.0 campaign, my wizard had his troll suit unzipped while surrounded by monks, and I knew how dangerous it could be.
Khalid, standing across from him on the other side of the main doors, readied his spell. A thought nagged at him, something about grain dust, but he quickly pushed it aside. As the first few ravens flew past, he unleashed his magic. A torrent of white hot embers swirled through the door, incinerating dozens of the birds. Shayla cursed and ducked aside as tiny smoking corpses tumbled across the granary, crashing into the back wall. The air inside filled with smoke and the screeches of the dying ravens.
Impressive though it might have looked, the spell did little to diminish the maelstrom of talons and feathers that engulfed them. For every bird felled, ten more took its place, flying through the door to claw and peck at their exposed skin. “Khalid!” Shayla shrieked, trying to protect her face, “do something!”
Edging away from the main door, Khalid tried to maintain his focus. Concentrating through the pain, he brought his magic to bear again, this time angling the flames straight up at the mass of birds whirling above. The smoke became so thick he could barely see the others through the haze. Gagging on the smell of charred carrion, he stumbled backwards toward the small side door.
Gorak spat out the words to a spell, setting both his hands alight with flame. Waving them in front of his face to keep the ravens at bay, he roared over the din. “Azarek!” Gorak roared, “what's that big bitch doing?”
Azarek, faring better than the others thanks to his armor, stepped out in front of the door, the edge of his shield held level with his eyes. An odd ringing filled the air as several birds ricocheted of his metal clad body to fall stunned upon the floor. “Jus sitting there!” he yelled back. “No wait!” He cursed. “It ain't taking the bait. It jus took off.”
The stench and smoke and pain became too much for Khalid. He had expected his spells to have more effect and consequently had only prepared two castings. Groping for the handle of the door, he flung it open, and staggered out into the sunlight. Gorak and Shayla, realizing the situation was turning against them, fled toward the main entrance.
Khalid sidled along the outside of the granary, trying his best to remain unnoticed. Unsure of where the manticore was, he decided to put as much distance between himself and where he knew it had last been. Ravens fluttered around him, swooping and diving as they tried to find a way into the building. From inside, he could hear Gorak shouting in anger and pain. Feeling worse than useless, Khalid continued on. Turning the corner, he realized that he'd made a terrible mistake. The manticore was directly ahead of him. He cringed and was about to run but the beast didn't shower him with spines. It seemed not to have noticed him, and continued on its course, flying away from the village, out over the barren fields that surrounded the town. Having little magic available to deal with an airborne threat, he considered the wisdom of interrupting the creature's flight. He allowed the creature to fly a little further away before resolving to make one last attempt. If the creature was a conjuration, or ensorcelled in some manner, he could yet cause its master some grief. Muttering the words to a spell as quickly and quietly as he could, Khalid unleashed his spell. When the final syllable left his mouth, he stood there slack jawed, blinking in surprise.
Khalid's magic unravelled the spell surrounding the beast. The manticore shimmered and warped back into the form of a young man, who promptly emitted a blood curdling shriek and plummeted several hundred feet to ground. Khalid averted his eyes at the last second, although he knew instantly that the sound of the impact would forevermore haunt his thoughts every time he took to air.*
“Well,” Shayla remarked, emerging from around the side of the granary, with Gorak and Azarek in tow. “I bet he wasn't expecting that.”
“Probably wouldn't have bounced so high if'n he was,” Gorak grunted in agreement. “Nice work, Khalid.” Behind them, the remaining ravens scattered into the sky, the magic binding them ended with the death of their master.
With what Khalid felt was an over abundance of morbid curiosity, Gorak, Shayla and Azarek went to inspect the remains of their fallen foe. Khalid reluctantly tagged along, trailing well behind. A single glimpse told him everything he needed to know. The sorcerer, the boy Garon presumably, had not survived the fall after Khalid had dispelled his shifted form. His broken body lay twisted upon the earth, his threadbare peasant garb, covered with blood. Although he knew the boy had left him little choice, he still felt no elation at their victory. With a sigh, he turned to head back to town, when Azarek brought him up short.
“Whadda ya make of that,” he rasped, nudging the body over with the toe of his boot. Spattered with gore was a long black cloak, made from what appeared to be feathers.
Shayla muttered a few words under her breath and stared intently at the garment. “It's radiating magic,” she said. Bending down, she removed the clasp, then picked it up gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, trying to avoid getting blood on her hands. “No sense leaving it for those yokels in town,” she added. “Gorak, you wanna help me out here?” Khalid glanced over, somewhat unsettled by her tone, but her face was an expressionless mask.
Gorak grumbled out the words to a spell, dousing the cloak a deluge of water. It came instantly clean, the blood running off it in rivulets and pooling at Shayla's feet. In the mid-morning sun, the black feathers shone with an oily sheen. Shaking the water from it, Shayla folded it up and placed it within their magical haversack. A small frown crossed her face as she threw the rucksack over her shoulder. “There's something else...” she trailed off, eyes narrowing in concentration. She moved a few dozen paces away from the body, scanning the ground. Some thirty feet away, she knelt down and picked up a polished black staff, from where it lay hidden in the long grass.
Finding nothing else of interest, and having no desire to gloat over their vanquished enemy, they returned to town. As they approached, doors began to open and people flooded out into the street. Word of the battle spread quickly, and soon the entire village surrounded them. Tears of gratitude dampened more than one cheek, and they were bombarded with thanks from all directions. Somewhat embarrassed and ill at ease in the crowd, Khalid sought to stay close to Gorak and Shayla. Soon, one voice rose above the din.
“The whole village thanks you for what you've done. We don't have much, but what we have, is yours.” The crowd quieted down a little, and a middle aged man with the build of a smith stepped forward. The man's blond hair was fading to grey, but his powerful frame showed little signs of age. Khalid judged him to be some sort of unofficial leader of the town, based on the way the others looked to him.
“I doubt you got anything we need, but thanks anyhow,” Gorak rumbled. “Now, are there any places around here he might hole up? He may have left a few surprises behind, and since we're not going no place today, we might as well take a look.”
The speaker glanced around the gathered crowd. From behind him, a tentative voice spoke up. “The last two times he flew over the town, he came from over the lake. There are some low cliffs over that, that have some crevices and fissure's running through 'em. Might be that there's a place there he coulda found.”
“Right,” Gorak grunted. “In that case, there is something you can do. Somebody lend us a boat.”
A dozen offers were shouted out. Gorak pointed at the man closest to him. “Fine, we'll take yours. That should do 'er.”
“Ah, yes, well there is something else I require,” Khalid added. When they turned and looked at him, he blurted, “Jewellery, yes quite.” Ignoring Gorak's strange look, he continued quickly. “Heirlooms, broaches, rings, earrings, necklaces and the like. I will, yes, will not take much.”
“It's the least we can do,” the blond man replied. “We'll take up a collection. But there ain't no rich folk here, I'm afraid you're gonna be mighty disappointed.”
“Ah, yes, well, no matter.” Khalid replied, indicating that they should head down to the waterfront.
Khalid's spirits sank when they reached the lakeside and he realized the proffered conveyance was little more than a row boat, with an ominously well used bucket resting in the bottom. The owner was about to climb in when Gorak stopped him with a hand on his arm. “We can manage from here,” he rumbled. “Wouldn't want you wandering into anything that went boom.”
Despite his misgivings, the little boat proved seaworthy and with Gorak at the oars, it practically leaped through the water. After a few minutes, the village began to recede into the distance. Some time later, the far side of the lake became more than just a distant smudge on the horizon. Soon, cliffs loomed large overhead, and Gorak changed their course slightly, angling for a rocky beach at their base. Azarek jumped over the side as the boat entered shallow waters, dragging it on to the beach while the others gathered their things.
Shielding his eyes from the sun, Gorak scanned the rock face. “Stay put,” he grunted. “I'll go take a look around.” Shifting form, he flew into the air, racing along the cliffs. He returned mere minutes later, landing in front of them and changing back. “Found it. Ain't too far away. Easy enough to get to.”
After a short walk down the rocky beach, they arrived at the cave. With a frown, Khalid realized that he and Gorak had very different definitions of easy. Still, with the help of a rope hauled up by Gorak, they made it up the twenty feet to the narrow crack in the stone. Muttering a few words under her breath, Shayla used her magic to illuminate the area. What looked from the outside to be nothing more than a small fissure in the rock opened up into a substantial cave. Azarek started to step forward but was stopped by Gorak's hand on his arm. “Might wanna let Khalid check it out first,” he growled.
Khalid uttered a few arcane words and dragged his fingers across his eyes. Peering into the room, he looked for any trace of magical weaves or other unnatural energies, but found nothing. “Ah, it would appear there there are no magical, yes, magical traps or wards securing the area,” he said. Shayla, duplicating the spell, confirmed his assessment with a sigh.
Gorak grunted. “Good. But that don't mean there ain't no traps of a more straight forward sort lying around. Best be careful.”
There was little to see within the tight confines of the cave. Centuries of runoff filtering through the limestone had worn smooth the walls and ceiling. The floor, not surprisingly, was crusted with bird droppings. Already unsettled from the long boat ride, it was all Khalid could do to keep the smell from overwhelming him. Scattered about on the floor of the cave were the boys personal effects. Tattered blankets and pilfered tools were strewn amid a jumble of bones, both fish and animal. Gorak walked over and kicked through a pile of debris that may have been a sleeping pallet, but found nothing of interest.
Shayla moved toward the back of the shelter, sweeping the light in front of her as she moved. At the rear of the refuge, she stopped, focusing the light at her feet. Khalid looked up from the pile of garbage he was gingerly picking through and frowned. “Ah, Shayla? Did you find something?”
“There's a book here,” she said.
“A book?” Khalid asked, his previous unease quickly forgotten. He stood up quickly and joined her.
“Some kind of diary I think,” she continued.
“Ah, of course,” Khalid added, trying to hide his disappointment. When he reached her side however, it was clear that it was not the discovery of the small, tattered sheaf of bound parchment that held her attention. On the floor in front of her lay two poorly preserved corpses. Little more than bones remained, but unlike the rest of the cave, it was clear that these had been carefully arranged, facing each other with their hands intertwined.
“The boy's mother and father,” Shayla said, her tone flat.
“Ah, yes, so it would seem,” Khalid agreed, eyeing Shayla out of the corner of his eye. “Ah, Gorak, I think there's little here of interest, perhaps, yes perhaps it is time to depart.”
“Ayup,” Gorak grunted, sweeping the ground with his foot one final time. “Nothing here but garbage. Let's go.”
Rowing into the wind, the return trip took twice as long. Gorak and Azarek took turns at the oars, holding a steady pace through the swelling waves. It was near dark when they reached the dock, cold, wet and tired. Khalid was grateful for the helpful villagers who directed them to a small house set aside for their use. Within minutes, they were settling into their accommodations while Gorak stoked a fire to ward away the damp chill of the lake. Not wishing to impose upon the hard pressed townsfolk, Khalid pulled some dried rations from the magical haversack and passed them around. Absently chewing on a strip of dried jerky, he sat down. Wearied by the day's events, his eyes were half closed when a knock on the door disturbed him. Seeing a decided lack of motion from his friends, Khalid stood up and walked over to the door, grumbling under his breath. Opening it, he found the tall blond man that had spoken for the village earlier, standing outside.
“Sorry ta bother you, but I've gathered up the things you wanted.” He handed Khalid a small leather pouch. “Everyone gave what they had. Ain't much, like I said, but around here, if you can't eat it or wear it, well, it just ain't much use.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Khalid muttered, feeling somewhat guilty. “If you please, wait here just a moment. He stepped back into the room, and upended the pouch on the table.
“Is there anything else you folks need? I wish we could throw you a proper feast, but the only grain we got left has got to go in the ground.”
“Yes, well, of course we understand the last few months have been trying on you, and no thanks are required. Yes, quite.” Khalid replied, sifting through the small pile of gold and silver jewelry.
“The boats will be on the lake tomorrow, at first light. If you stay a few days, I bet we could do something up half decent.”
“Ah, yes, well, I'm afraid we will be resuming our journey in the morning, so I regret that won't be possible.” He extracted a ring from beneath a tangled spool of gold chain. “Aha!” Khalid exclaimed. Holding it up the light, he examined the stone. An iridescent sheen glittered over the jet black pearl. “Ah, I had not dared to hope I would find what I sought.” Turning to the elder, he asked, “Do you know who this belongs to?”
“Marie, I think.”
“Ah, yes, excellent.” He pulled out a dagger from its sheath on his belt, using the tip to gently pry loose the stone. “This is all I require, yes, quite. You may return the rest to their owners and give this to Marie.” He pulled a glittering red ruby, easily twice the value of the stone he had taken, from the hoard Arbaq had provided them, and handed it to the villager.
The villager looked at him strangely as he tucked the pouch into his shirt. “I'll see that she gets it. If there ain't nothing else, I'll just get out of your way.”
Bidding him goodnight, Khalid retired to his bedroll. Tired as he was, his unsettled thoughts chased away all hope of sleep. Turning over, his gaze fell upon Shayla, sitting cross legged with her back against the wall of the small hut. Through the faint light cast by the dieing coals, he could tell she was awake. In her hands, she held a small book. Feeling his eyes upon her, she glanced up, her dark eyes shining. Unsure of what to say, Khalid finally rolled over, and tried to get some sleep.
They left the small village early in the morning, with little fanfare. More than a few of the locals were awake, busy resuming their daily routines so long interrupted. All waved and offered them a greeting but they didn't stop to exchange pleasantries. Riding out in the plains on summoned horses, within a few hours, the lake and the tiny village were long behind them.
Stopping briefly for lunch, Gorak pulled out their worn map and studied it carefully. “We've got a choice to make. If we keep heading north west, we're gonna hit this big forest here, right in the middle, and while that don't bother me none to much, I'm guessing it's gonna make riding next to impossible.”
“Ah, yes, well, I can't say I'm much in favour of crossing the country on foot.”
“Din't think you'd be. So we got two options then. Turn north and circle around the forest that way. That's gonna take some time and it'll put us pretty far north. Further then we want to be, I think. We're gonna be skirting the tundra up there and that might not be too much fun.”
“Whut's the other choice?” Azarek rasped.
“Due west, right now.” He traced out a line on the map with his finger. “Wit a little luck, we just miss the south part of the forest, and hit this road here, the one leading north outta Caer Morag. It'll get us through the forest quick, and we can turn north west again here, and run straight out to the mountains. I bet we'll be able to see the peaks once we clear the bush.”
“We'll probably run into Dwerro on the road,” Shayla added, not sounding particularly displeased by the prospect.
“Maybe,” Gorak agreed. “But we're a few hundred miles north of Caer Morag and there ain't a lot out here, except this town here in the forest. That's a lot of ground to cover, for them short little bastards, and I can't think they'll be up here in force.”
Changing course, they turned west and headed into the setting sun. That night and the following day proved uneventful. They were truly beyond the reach of civilization now, with nothing but windswept plains stretching around them in all directions. Travelling in their usual fashion, they pushed Khalid's summoned mounts mercilessly to the limits of their endurance, while Gorak circled high overhead, scanning the horizon for threats. Finally, Khalid called a halt amid the quickly fading rays of setting sun. Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, he slid off his mount gingerly and moved to prepare their shelter, when Gorak landed in front of them. His customary scowl was a shade deeper then usual, a fact that Khalid had, over time, learnt to recognize. “Ah, what is it?” he asked wearily.
Scratching absently at his jaw, Gorak grunted. “Maybe nothing. I spotted a line of torches, headed this way. I'm guessing a few dozen men, maybe more.”
“Ah, Dwerro?” Khalid asked, a worried furrow forming on his brow.
“Don't think Dwerro need torches,” Gorak grumbled with a smirk.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Khalid muttered. “Who else would be this far north?”
“Dunno, but I aim to find out. Don't lock the door. And,” he continued quickly when he saw Khalid about to speak, “don't say it.”
Be careful
Gorak barked out a short laugh. “Ain't I always?” He dropped to all fours, his body blurring into the form a large grey wolf. He turned, and bounded out into the darkness.
With a sigh, Khalid tossed the length of rope he kept wrapped around his waist on the ground, and opened their shelter with a gesture. Climbing inside without waiting for Azarek or Shayla, he tossed his pack aside and sat down to wait for Gorak's return.
* * * * * * * * * *
Notes:* Heh, I totally wasn't expecting this (neither was Galeman I don't think...
). It never even occured to me that it might be a polymorphed caster, probably because in another 3.0 campaign, my wizard had his troll suit unzipped while surrounded by monks, and I knew how dangerous it could be.EternalNewbie
Explorer
Well without giving too much away, I think it was pretty much just for revenge. I can say that if Galeman had a plot line associated with this little side quest, it ended when Khalid turfed the sorcerer. None of us were overly thrilled about how this turned out, as I think it was pretty clear that there was a way to resolve it without killing anybody.
Still, if you're going to go around picking fights...you should probably make sure you're going to win. Or at least not fail at running away...
TaranTheWanderer
Legend
I think this really accents the tragedy. Nicely written EN.
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit
Adventurer
EternalNewbie
Explorer
Khalid jerked awake. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after the events of the last two days he was physically and mentally exhausted. Forcing the confusion from his mind, he glanced around for the sound of the noise that roused him when Gorak's head appeared through the entrance. Gripping the edge of the portal, he hauled himself up and pulled in the rope.
Azarek, leaning back against the boundary of the dimension, pushed his helm up from over his eyes with his finger. “So who wuz they?” he rasped.
“Nomads,” Gorak grunted. “From the far north, judging by their dress.”
“They gonna be a problem?” Azarek asked.
“Not fer us. Looks like they're setting up for some sort of ritual. There's maybe thirty of 'em. They had guards posted, so I didn't risk getting close. Whatever they're doing, they're serious about it.” Azarek grunted and, not seeing the need for further discussion, pulled up his bedroll and promptly went to sleep.
They broke camp late after Gorak had thoroughly scouted the area. Khalid was more than a little relieved when he returned to report that the nomads had moved on. Out of idle curiosity, they ventured past the site of the abandoned camp, which wasn't hard to find. A large patch of grass, about fifteen feet across had been burned away. Embers were still glowing amid the piles of ash and charred wood. The purpose of the fire became immediately apparent as Azarek sifted through the debris with the toe of his boot, uncovering a bit of charred bone.
“Funeral pyre,” he rasped.
“Wonder why they came this far south?” Gorak rumbled.
“Ah, yes, well, I doubt we'll ever know,” Khalid replied. Out of habit, Shayla muttered a few words under her breath and dragged her fingers across her eyes.
“Whut ave we 'ere,” Azarek rasped, bending down and brushing aside some of the ash. “Well now, whoever he wuz, I don't figure he's gonna get much use out of this no more.”
“Wait a minute,” Shayla cautioned, just as Azarek pulled free a long hand and a half sword from the remnants of the pyre.
“Gah!” Azarek cursed, flinging the blade aside. “Bloody hell, that just ain't right.” His normal pallor seemed a shade lighter.
“I tried to warn you,” Shayla said. “That thing is magical.”
“I don't give a good gods damn what it is,” he growled. “But I sure as shyte know why they burned it with him.”
Khalid took the opportunity to study the weapon, being careful not to touch it. The blade was unremarkable, save that it seemed completely untouched by its recent immolation. Well over three feet long, it bore no signs of use, and looked razor sharp. The hilt however, was more then a little disturbing. It appeared to be carved from a single piece of bone, whether human or animal. Khalid couldn't tell. Etched into it were humanoid figures, bearing expressions of indescribable agony and suffering.
“It could be powerful,” Shayla continued.
“I don't care,” Azarek rasped. “That thing don't like me and I don't like it.” He paused to wipe his hand on his cloak. “ I ain't touching it again.”
Although more than a little curious, Khalid couldn't help but agree. “Ah, yes, it could be quite, yes, quite dangerous. And if Azarek has no interest in it, the weapon itself would do the rest of us little good.”
“I'm good with that,” Gorak grunted. “We don't need another distraction.”
Somewhat uncharacteristically, Shayla let the matter drop without another word and they resumed travelling. Several uneventful days passed, and the terrain gradually became a little less bleak as they headed southwest. Khalid took advantage of the relative calm to complete his analysis of several unusual items they had acquired upon their travels. Crushing the black pearl with the hilt of his knife, he began to chant, sprinkling the dust in the air. The powder began to sparkle and glow, drawn toward the magic emanating from the items in front of him. Slowly, the magical weaves were revealed in a detail that far surpassed that of a simple detection spell. He studied them closely, his mind working to unravel the mystery of their function. After several long hours, he leaned back against the boundary of the pocket dimension with a satisfied sigh.
Looking up to find the others staring at him curiously, he gestured at the equipment in front of him and began to explain. “Ah, yes, having recently acquired the final component of one of my more useful, yes, useful divinations, I have unlocked the secrets of several things we have taken from our vanquished foes.” He pointed at the dagger they had acquired from the gnoll assassin sent after them by Malakai, who had met his end in the snowy reaches of the mountain pass. “The dagger, although it appears to be metal, is something else entirely. Hilt and blade are a single, yes, single piece which I suspect was carved from the fang of some giant creature, perhaps a serpent or spider. The magic has made it harder, yes, harder than steel.”
“Not too shabby,” Azarek rasped.
“Ah, yes, indeed,” Khalid said. “But that is not all. The magic also has also preserves and rejuvenates a venom gland contained within the hilt. When the command word is spoken, the blade will inject a deadly toxin into your opponent.”
“The Dwerro war hammer,” he continued. “Is a particularly powerful item. Ah, although I have little knowledge of these things, I judge it to be of unparallelled craftsmanship.” He glanced at Azarek, who nodded. “The magic bears the burden of its weight for the wielder, making it feel extraordinarily light, while still delivering punishing blows. Ah, although I do not have a scale, I suspect it is at least twice as heavy as an ordinary hammer, but feels like it weighs half as much. And if that were not sufficient, when a command word is spoken, the hammer becomes infused with magic, delivering a concussion blast upon contact, sufficient to render most creatures senseless.”
“Nice,” Gorak grunted. “Yer damn lucky that little basterd din't clip you with it back at Caer Morag.”
“Yes, quite,” Khalid agreed.
“What about the stuff we took off that boy?” Shayla asked quietly.
“Ah, most unusual items, both of them.” Khalid replied. “Although I have no idea where he would have acquired them out here, I find it hard to believe he possessed the ability to craft them.” He lifted up the staff, balancing it easily in the palm of his hand. “The staff is the means by which the boy controlled the birds. A murder of ravens has been bound to it, allowing the wielder to summon them at will. In addition, it grants the bearer minor prescience in combat, flashes of insight which aid in parrying blows.”
“And of course,” he continued. “I have saved the best for last, yes quite. The cloak has only a single function. Once every twenty-four hours, for as long as an hour, it will transform its wearer into a raven and back again.”
“Useful,” Gorak grunted. “Now who gets what?”
“The hammer is of little use to any of us save Azarek,” Khalid replied, and seeing no objection from Shayla or Gorak, passed it over to him.
“I'll take that staff,” Gorak rumbled. “It ain't no cudgel, but it'll free up my hands for casting. Khalid passed it over to him.
“Ah, as both Gorak and I possess the means to fly, the Shayla should take the cloak. It's power will provide a potent means of defense and escape, yes quite.” He passed it over to her, and she pulled it around her shoulders, fastening the golden clasp at the neck. The jet black feathers seemed to make her pale complexion almost luminous in the dim light.
“The dagger is yours then,” Gorak grunted to Khalid.
Khalid shrugged. “Ah, since I place the odds of poisoning any foe I attempt to use it on roughly equal to the odds of poisoning myself with it, I think Azarek should take that as well. He slid the blade into its sheath and passed it over to him, hilt first.
Their ill gotten gains divided, they turned in for the night. Some hours later, a sound that haunted Khalid's nightmares shocked him awake. Half asleep, he fumbled around frantically, until his fingers closed on the worn leather cover of his spellbook, still tucked within the rucksack beneath his head. Gorak lay still beside him, and without having to look, Azarek's rumbling snore indicated he was still asleep. Rolling over he looked around for the source of the rustling paper that had disturbed his slumber. Sitting some distance away from them was Shayla, knees drawn up to her chest, holding a book in her hands. Fairly certain that it wasn't one of his, he squinted in the dim light, trying to make out what she was reading. Then it dawned on him. Shayla had kept the boy sorcerer's diary, although to what end, he wasn't sure. Sensing his scrutiny, Shayla glanced up and met his gaze, holding it for an instant before returning to her reading. Bothered without really knowing why, Khalid closed his eyes and tried to fall back to sleep but it was a long time in coming. When Gorak roused him with the toe of his boot, he felt as though he'd barely slept at all.
The following days passed in a blur of travel. They rode hard from dawn until dusk, climbing into Khalid's shelter long enough to sleep before setting out again. A smudge of green to the west gradually swelled until it filled the horizon, growing in size until individual trees were evident. Gorak's assessment proved unpleasantly true; unlike the pruned glades to the south, this was a proper forest, filled with ancient gnarled trees packed close together and thick, unyielding undergrowth that hampered their travel. Less then an hour after they passed the first stunted tree, they were forced south by the dense brush, to seek out the road running north from Caer Morag. That night, they set up their camp, as it were, on a small rise overlooking the road.
The next morning dawned clear and bright, and even though it was only early morning, Khalid could tell it was going to be unpleasantly warm. Mounting up, they rode down into the shallow valley, picking the road and heading north. Soon the sun was visible only as shafts of light filtering down through the branches above and they were enveloped in the cool gloom of the forest. All around them were the sounds of the forest. The inhabitants of the woods were seemingly unconcerned with their presence, but still Khalid couldn't help but feel something sinister lurked behind every bole and branch, watching and waiting.
Gorak, choosing a more suitable form, dropped to all fours and loped off into the trees, disappearing from sight. Although some attempt had been made to clear back the trees from the road in the not too distant past, the forest it seemed, was winning the battle, closing in around the road. Khalid sighed and huddled deeper into his robes.
“What is it?” Shayla asked.
“Ah, I do not care for this place,” Khalid muttered. “I prefer my trees pressed, bound and covered with ink. Yes, quite.”
“Well, I can't imagine the Dwerro like it any better than you do. I don't see them having too many skilled woodsman among their ranks, so I bet we don't have to worry about them in here.”
“Ah, yes, small comfort I should think.”
Despite Khalid's unease, they were not disturbed by any denizens of the forest during their first day on the road. Consulting the map over dinner, they estimated it would take at least three more days travel to reach village marked upon the map at the centre of the woods, and possibly two more days to put the forest behind them after that.
It was late on the second day on the road, when Gorak bounded from the trees and shifted from his lupine form.
“That can't be good,” Shayla muttered.
“Never is,” Azarek rasped.
“Better get yer game face on,” Gorak growled. “I spotted a coupla bodies on the road up ahead, near what I'm guessing is a bunkhouse for folks travelling through the woods.”
“Recent?” Shayla asked.
“I din't get close enough to tell,” Gorak replied.
Belting on his shield, Azarek unstrapped the Dwerro war hammer from his saddle and laid it across his knees. Nudging his horse forward, he took up the lead with Khalid and Shayla trailing behind. Gorak, drifting into the trees, paced them while staying out of sight.
Even though the brush had been cleared away from the road, the thick trees limited visibility to a few dozen feet ahead. Khalid fiddled nervously with the spell components at his waist, anticipating any manner of foe lurking in the cool shadows of the forest. He strained his ears for any sound of an ambush, but the sounds of the woods betrayed nothing unusual. After a few tense minutes, they rode into a large clearing around wooden building.
The trees here had been cut back fifty feet in all directions around the single room structure. Old stumps poked up through the long grass, and like the rest of the road, it seemed as though no one had been maintaining it recently. The log building seemed well constructed, with a stout door and shuttered windows, although the roof over one corner sagged ominously.
It was immediately apparent that some sort of struggle had taken place here. The grass around the side of the building was blackened, radiating out from a point near the corner closest to them. Four bodies lay on the ground in the centre of the circle. Inspecting them from a distance revealed little to Khalid, so badly damaged were the corpses. They were obviously humanoid, five or six feet tall, but that was all he could discern from the edge of the clearing.
Scanning the trees warily, Azarek hefted the war hammer and urged his mount forward with his knees. Khalid and Shayla edged apart a little, watching him from the tree line. Azarek continued down the road until he was in the centre of the glade and then stopped, waiting. After a few moments, Gorak stepped out of the trees across from them “Looks clear,” he growled.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Khalid rode up to join Azarek, who hung his shield on his saddlehorn and dismounted. Muttering a few arcane words, Khalid checked the area for arcane weaves, but found nothing out of the ordinary. He clambered off his horse and moved closer to the bodies.
Gorak walked over beside Azarek. “Pretty good ambush,” he rumbled.
“Ayuh,” Azarek grunted.
“Ah, how can you tell?” Khalid asked.
“Weapons are still sheathed,” Gorak growled. “It was over before they knew what hit 'em.”
“Fire?” Khalid asked, surveying the scene.
“I don't think so,” Shayla replied, kneeling down and pulling up a handful of sod. “This grass isn't burned, it's...” she paused, a frown creasing her features, “dried up is the best I can figure.”
Gorak grunted in agreement from where he was inspecting the fallen. “The bodies ain't burned neither. They're mummified. Like they been out in the desert for a month. The metal is fine, but their clothes are the same.”
“You think that's off,” Azarek rasped. “Lookit this.” He reached over and grabbed the corner of the sagging cabin. Without even trying, he tore free a fist sized chunk of wood from one of the beams. Closing his fist, it crumbled into dust at his touch.
With a growl, Gorak voiced the question that they were all thinking. “So whut in the nine hells happened here?”
Azarek, leaning back against the boundary of the dimension, pushed his helm up from over his eyes with his finger. “So who wuz they?” he rasped.
“Nomads,” Gorak grunted. “From the far north, judging by their dress.”
“They gonna be a problem?” Azarek asked.
“Not fer us. Looks like they're setting up for some sort of ritual. There's maybe thirty of 'em. They had guards posted, so I didn't risk getting close. Whatever they're doing, they're serious about it.” Azarek grunted and, not seeing the need for further discussion, pulled up his bedroll and promptly went to sleep.
They broke camp late after Gorak had thoroughly scouted the area. Khalid was more than a little relieved when he returned to report that the nomads had moved on. Out of idle curiosity, they ventured past the site of the abandoned camp, which wasn't hard to find. A large patch of grass, about fifteen feet across had been burned away. Embers were still glowing amid the piles of ash and charred wood. The purpose of the fire became immediately apparent as Azarek sifted through the debris with the toe of his boot, uncovering a bit of charred bone.
“Funeral pyre,” he rasped.
“Wonder why they came this far south?” Gorak rumbled.
“Ah, yes, well, I doubt we'll ever know,” Khalid replied. Out of habit, Shayla muttered a few words under her breath and dragged her fingers across her eyes.
“Whut ave we 'ere,” Azarek rasped, bending down and brushing aside some of the ash. “Well now, whoever he wuz, I don't figure he's gonna get much use out of this no more.”
“Wait a minute,” Shayla cautioned, just as Azarek pulled free a long hand and a half sword from the remnants of the pyre.
“Gah!” Azarek cursed, flinging the blade aside. “Bloody hell, that just ain't right.” His normal pallor seemed a shade lighter.
“I tried to warn you,” Shayla said. “That thing is magical.”
“I don't give a good gods damn what it is,” he growled. “But I sure as shyte know why they burned it with him.”
Khalid took the opportunity to study the weapon, being careful not to touch it. The blade was unremarkable, save that it seemed completely untouched by its recent immolation. Well over three feet long, it bore no signs of use, and looked razor sharp. The hilt however, was more then a little disturbing. It appeared to be carved from a single piece of bone, whether human or animal. Khalid couldn't tell. Etched into it were humanoid figures, bearing expressions of indescribable agony and suffering.
“It could be powerful,” Shayla continued.
“I don't care,” Azarek rasped. “That thing don't like me and I don't like it.” He paused to wipe his hand on his cloak. “ I ain't touching it again.”
Although more than a little curious, Khalid couldn't help but agree. “Ah, yes, it could be quite, yes, quite dangerous. And if Azarek has no interest in it, the weapon itself would do the rest of us little good.”
“I'm good with that,” Gorak grunted. “We don't need another distraction.”
Somewhat uncharacteristically, Shayla let the matter drop without another word and they resumed travelling. Several uneventful days passed, and the terrain gradually became a little less bleak as they headed southwest. Khalid took advantage of the relative calm to complete his analysis of several unusual items they had acquired upon their travels. Crushing the black pearl with the hilt of his knife, he began to chant, sprinkling the dust in the air. The powder began to sparkle and glow, drawn toward the magic emanating from the items in front of him. Slowly, the magical weaves were revealed in a detail that far surpassed that of a simple detection spell. He studied them closely, his mind working to unravel the mystery of their function. After several long hours, he leaned back against the boundary of the pocket dimension with a satisfied sigh.
Looking up to find the others staring at him curiously, he gestured at the equipment in front of him and began to explain. “Ah, yes, having recently acquired the final component of one of my more useful, yes, useful divinations, I have unlocked the secrets of several things we have taken from our vanquished foes.” He pointed at the dagger they had acquired from the gnoll assassin sent after them by Malakai, who had met his end in the snowy reaches of the mountain pass. “The dagger, although it appears to be metal, is something else entirely. Hilt and blade are a single, yes, single piece which I suspect was carved from the fang of some giant creature, perhaps a serpent or spider. The magic has made it harder, yes, harder than steel.”
“Not too shabby,” Azarek rasped.
“Ah, yes, indeed,” Khalid said. “But that is not all. The magic also has also preserves and rejuvenates a venom gland contained within the hilt. When the command word is spoken, the blade will inject a deadly toxin into your opponent.”
“The Dwerro war hammer,” he continued. “Is a particularly powerful item. Ah, although I have little knowledge of these things, I judge it to be of unparallelled craftsmanship.” He glanced at Azarek, who nodded. “The magic bears the burden of its weight for the wielder, making it feel extraordinarily light, while still delivering punishing blows. Ah, although I do not have a scale, I suspect it is at least twice as heavy as an ordinary hammer, but feels like it weighs half as much. And if that were not sufficient, when a command word is spoken, the hammer becomes infused with magic, delivering a concussion blast upon contact, sufficient to render most creatures senseless.”
“Nice,” Gorak grunted. “Yer damn lucky that little basterd din't clip you with it back at Caer Morag.”
“Yes, quite,” Khalid agreed.
“What about the stuff we took off that boy?” Shayla asked quietly.
“Ah, most unusual items, both of them.” Khalid replied. “Although I have no idea where he would have acquired them out here, I find it hard to believe he possessed the ability to craft them.” He lifted up the staff, balancing it easily in the palm of his hand. “The staff is the means by which the boy controlled the birds. A murder of ravens has been bound to it, allowing the wielder to summon them at will. In addition, it grants the bearer minor prescience in combat, flashes of insight which aid in parrying blows.”
“And of course,” he continued. “I have saved the best for last, yes quite. The cloak has only a single function. Once every twenty-four hours, for as long as an hour, it will transform its wearer into a raven and back again.”
“Useful,” Gorak grunted. “Now who gets what?”
“The hammer is of little use to any of us save Azarek,” Khalid replied, and seeing no objection from Shayla or Gorak, passed it over to him.
“I'll take that staff,” Gorak rumbled. “It ain't no cudgel, but it'll free up my hands for casting. Khalid passed it over to him.
“Ah, as both Gorak and I possess the means to fly, the Shayla should take the cloak. It's power will provide a potent means of defense and escape, yes quite.” He passed it over to her, and she pulled it around her shoulders, fastening the golden clasp at the neck. The jet black feathers seemed to make her pale complexion almost luminous in the dim light.
“The dagger is yours then,” Gorak grunted to Khalid.
Khalid shrugged. “Ah, since I place the odds of poisoning any foe I attempt to use it on roughly equal to the odds of poisoning myself with it, I think Azarek should take that as well. He slid the blade into its sheath and passed it over to him, hilt first.
Their ill gotten gains divided, they turned in for the night. Some hours later, a sound that haunted Khalid's nightmares shocked him awake. Half asleep, he fumbled around frantically, until his fingers closed on the worn leather cover of his spellbook, still tucked within the rucksack beneath his head. Gorak lay still beside him, and without having to look, Azarek's rumbling snore indicated he was still asleep. Rolling over he looked around for the source of the rustling paper that had disturbed his slumber. Sitting some distance away from them was Shayla, knees drawn up to her chest, holding a book in her hands. Fairly certain that it wasn't one of his, he squinted in the dim light, trying to make out what she was reading. Then it dawned on him. Shayla had kept the boy sorcerer's diary, although to what end, he wasn't sure. Sensing his scrutiny, Shayla glanced up and met his gaze, holding it for an instant before returning to her reading. Bothered without really knowing why, Khalid closed his eyes and tried to fall back to sleep but it was a long time in coming. When Gorak roused him with the toe of his boot, he felt as though he'd barely slept at all.
The following days passed in a blur of travel. They rode hard from dawn until dusk, climbing into Khalid's shelter long enough to sleep before setting out again. A smudge of green to the west gradually swelled until it filled the horizon, growing in size until individual trees were evident. Gorak's assessment proved unpleasantly true; unlike the pruned glades to the south, this was a proper forest, filled with ancient gnarled trees packed close together and thick, unyielding undergrowth that hampered their travel. Less then an hour after they passed the first stunted tree, they were forced south by the dense brush, to seek out the road running north from Caer Morag. That night, they set up their camp, as it were, on a small rise overlooking the road.
The next morning dawned clear and bright, and even though it was only early morning, Khalid could tell it was going to be unpleasantly warm. Mounting up, they rode down into the shallow valley, picking the road and heading north. Soon the sun was visible only as shafts of light filtering down through the branches above and they were enveloped in the cool gloom of the forest. All around them were the sounds of the forest. The inhabitants of the woods were seemingly unconcerned with their presence, but still Khalid couldn't help but feel something sinister lurked behind every bole and branch, watching and waiting.
Gorak, choosing a more suitable form, dropped to all fours and loped off into the trees, disappearing from sight. Although some attempt had been made to clear back the trees from the road in the not too distant past, the forest it seemed, was winning the battle, closing in around the road. Khalid sighed and huddled deeper into his robes.
“What is it?” Shayla asked.
“Ah, I do not care for this place,” Khalid muttered. “I prefer my trees pressed, bound and covered with ink. Yes, quite.”
“Well, I can't imagine the Dwerro like it any better than you do. I don't see them having too many skilled woodsman among their ranks, so I bet we don't have to worry about them in here.”
“Ah, yes, small comfort I should think.”
Despite Khalid's unease, they were not disturbed by any denizens of the forest during their first day on the road. Consulting the map over dinner, they estimated it would take at least three more days travel to reach village marked upon the map at the centre of the woods, and possibly two more days to put the forest behind them after that.
It was late on the second day on the road, when Gorak bounded from the trees and shifted from his lupine form.
“That can't be good,” Shayla muttered.
“Never is,” Azarek rasped.
“Better get yer game face on,” Gorak growled. “I spotted a coupla bodies on the road up ahead, near what I'm guessing is a bunkhouse for folks travelling through the woods.”
“Recent?” Shayla asked.
“I din't get close enough to tell,” Gorak replied.
Belting on his shield, Azarek unstrapped the Dwerro war hammer from his saddle and laid it across his knees. Nudging his horse forward, he took up the lead with Khalid and Shayla trailing behind. Gorak, drifting into the trees, paced them while staying out of sight.
Even though the brush had been cleared away from the road, the thick trees limited visibility to a few dozen feet ahead. Khalid fiddled nervously with the spell components at his waist, anticipating any manner of foe lurking in the cool shadows of the forest. He strained his ears for any sound of an ambush, but the sounds of the woods betrayed nothing unusual. After a few tense minutes, they rode into a large clearing around wooden building.
The trees here had been cut back fifty feet in all directions around the single room structure. Old stumps poked up through the long grass, and like the rest of the road, it seemed as though no one had been maintaining it recently. The log building seemed well constructed, with a stout door and shuttered windows, although the roof over one corner sagged ominously.
It was immediately apparent that some sort of struggle had taken place here. The grass around the side of the building was blackened, radiating out from a point near the corner closest to them. Four bodies lay on the ground in the centre of the circle. Inspecting them from a distance revealed little to Khalid, so badly damaged were the corpses. They were obviously humanoid, five or six feet tall, but that was all he could discern from the edge of the clearing.
Scanning the trees warily, Azarek hefted the war hammer and urged his mount forward with his knees. Khalid and Shayla edged apart a little, watching him from the tree line. Azarek continued down the road until he was in the centre of the glade and then stopped, waiting. After a few moments, Gorak stepped out of the trees across from them “Looks clear,” he growled.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Khalid rode up to join Azarek, who hung his shield on his saddlehorn and dismounted. Muttering a few arcane words, Khalid checked the area for arcane weaves, but found nothing out of the ordinary. He clambered off his horse and moved closer to the bodies.
Gorak walked over beside Azarek. “Pretty good ambush,” he rumbled.
“Ayuh,” Azarek grunted.
“Ah, how can you tell?” Khalid asked.
“Weapons are still sheathed,” Gorak growled. “It was over before they knew what hit 'em.”
“Fire?” Khalid asked, surveying the scene.
“I don't think so,” Shayla replied, kneeling down and pulling up a handful of sod. “This grass isn't burned, it's...” she paused, a frown creasing her features, “dried up is the best I can figure.”
Gorak grunted in agreement from where he was inspecting the fallen. “The bodies ain't burned neither. They're mummified. Like they been out in the desert for a month. The metal is fine, but their clothes are the same.”
“You think that's off,” Azarek rasped. “Lookit this.” He reached over and grabbed the corner of the sagging cabin. Without even trying, he tore free a fist sized chunk of wood from one of the beams. Closing his fist, it crumbled into dust at his touch.
With a growl, Gorak voiced the question that they were all thinking. “So whut in the nine hells happened here?”
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit
Adventurer
Good to see an update .
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