Drusilia Nailo
First Post
Re: Re: Re: Session Seventeen, Part Two: The Funeral of Dru & Di'Fier
I'll second that!
Jon Potter said:
I'll second that!
-
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drnuncheon's Freeport Story Hour - Book II: Inheritance
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drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Seventeen, Part Three: A World of Endless Grey
Di'Fier's hand groped blindly for his sword as the thing reared back its head, teeth stretching wide. He felt the cold grip on his fingertips and yanked it towards him, his other hand coming up as if to ward off the creature. Arcane syllables sparked from his lips, and golden light suffused the grey for an instant as globes of force leapt the distance from his hand to the creature.
The globes ripped into its flesh, triggering an eruption of blackness that resolved itself into a horde of vermin, tiny copies of the creature, swarming towards their victims on wire-thin legs.
Dru dived through the horde, sending them scattering from her ragged boots. Her blade was in her hand, sinking deep into the creature once, twice. She could feel the bites of the tiny creatures sinking into her flesh as they crawled up her legs, feel the fires of their venom in her blood. Reflexively she looked to her wrists...but they remained stubbornly unmarked. Oh, no...
The giant creature finally fixed on its prey, its head arcing downward with the savage finality of an avalanche, its teeth tearing into Di'Fier's shoulder, all but yanking him to his feet as it lifted upwards. The flesh parted under the assault and he dropped, blood soaking his clothing and staining the grey earth a dull red.
Ignoring the fire in his arm, ignoring the spawn of the thing that climbed upon him and bit at him, Di'Fier raised his blade, sending it whistling through the air, slashing deep into the thing's underbelly and causing another explosion of its foul brood. The blade reared back, then forward like an arrow, flashing white as it struck deep, leaving a frost-rimed hole as the mage staggered backwards.
The creature crumpled and sagged, as if it were an inflated bladder losing air. Wisps of blackness began to rise from it as it dissolved back into the grey.
Dru leapt forward, knocking the tiny creatures from Di'Fier and stomping them as they hit the ground. With his remainign strength, he did the same for her, and soon only smoky bits of black remained in the mists - and then, those too were gone.
"Was that...what we ate?" Di'Fier asked himself. "Or was it just...the spirit..."
"I don't know," said Dru. "But whatever it was, we're not finished here yet." She pointed to where the thin thread of black still ran from Di'Fier into the grey mist.
"How long have we been walking?"
"I can't tell. I'm not tired yet - are you?"
"No. Nor hungry. But..." A pause. "Haven't we had this conversation before?"
"Yes. How's your shoulder?"
"It hurts. But I don't seem to be bleeding. The bites?"
"Whatever it was, I was able to shrug it off without the Jade Serpent's help. I wish I knew why it didn't work."
"This is the spirit world. It probably wasn't a real poison at all."
"So...a metaphorical poison?"
"Right. Hey! Where'd the thread go?"
"We were just following it...it's attached to you, how can you lose it? Wait...I see it."
"Where?"
"It goes up."
"You're right."
"Can we do that?"
"It is the spirit world..."
Above, in the trees, a strange creature awaited them, its orange-brown fur a sharp contrast to the formless shades of light and dark around them. Long, clever fingers reeled in the 'thread' that was attached to Di'Fier, and when the wizened muzzle pulled back it revealed teeth of gleaming ivory. But the eyes above it were not those of a beast: they were old, wise, and sad.
The thing raised a hand to gesture them closer, showing the flaps of skin that ran from wrists to ankle, intricately painted - or perhaps tattooed - with unknowable designs that danced as the skin moved. It looked them over carefully, as if judging them.
"You may tell your shaman," it began, and the voice startled them as much as the language, "that he is not strong enough to break the doom I have laid upon you." The eyes closed, and it seemed to let out a sigh. "Why have you done what you did?"
Di'Fier licked his lips, glancing to Dru, then stepped forward. "Sir...we did not know what we were eating. We were tricked into it by a woman who calls herself the Swamp Hag. She brought us the meat, and did not tell us what...who...it was from."
The ancient creature snarled. "Too long has she troubled us. An accounting there must be." The eyes fixed upon Di'Fier again. "It is the law of Yazir that someone must pay for this crime: life for life, death for death. When payment has been made, you must return to me, and I will lift the doom. Now go, for they pull upon the strands of your life and I will not spend the strength to keep you here longer."
At his words, the duo felt an insistent pull, a pull that drew them ever more rapidly through the formlessness around them until even the mists were blurred. The greyness came to meet them like a stone floor at the end of a long fall, and then everything faded to black.
Di'Fier's hand groped blindly for his sword as the thing reared back its head, teeth stretching wide. He felt the cold grip on his fingertips and yanked it towards him, his other hand coming up as if to ward off the creature. Arcane syllables sparked from his lips, and golden light suffused the grey for an instant as globes of force leapt the distance from his hand to the creature.
The globes ripped into its flesh, triggering an eruption of blackness that resolved itself into a horde of vermin, tiny copies of the creature, swarming towards their victims on wire-thin legs.
Dru dived through the horde, sending them scattering from her ragged boots. Her blade was in her hand, sinking deep into the creature once, twice. She could feel the bites of the tiny creatures sinking into her flesh as they crawled up her legs, feel the fires of their venom in her blood. Reflexively she looked to her wrists...but they remained stubbornly unmarked. Oh, no...
The giant creature finally fixed on its prey, its head arcing downward with the savage finality of an avalanche, its teeth tearing into Di'Fier's shoulder, all but yanking him to his feet as it lifted upwards. The flesh parted under the assault and he dropped, blood soaking his clothing and staining the grey earth a dull red.
Ignoring the fire in his arm, ignoring the spawn of the thing that climbed upon him and bit at him, Di'Fier raised his blade, sending it whistling through the air, slashing deep into the thing's underbelly and causing another explosion of its foul brood. The blade reared back, then forward like an arrow, flashing white as it struck deep, leaving a frost-rimed hole as the mage staggered backwards.
The creature crumpled and sagged, as if it were an inflated bladder losing air. Wisps of blackness began to rise from it as it dissolved back into the grey.
Dru leapt forward, knocking the tiny creatures from Di'Fier and stomping them as they hit the ground. With his remainign strength, he did the same for her, and soon only smoky bits of black remained in the mists - and then, those too were gone.
"Was that...what we ate?" Di'Fier asked himself. "Or was it just...the spirit..."
"I don't know," said Dru. "But whatever it was, we're not finished here yet." She pointed to where the thin thread of black still ran from Di'Fier into the grey mist.
"How long have we been walking?"
"I can't tell. I'm not tired yet - are you?"
"No. Nor hungry. But..." A pause. "Haven't we had this conversation before?"
"Yes. How's your shoulder?"
"It hurts. But I don't seem to be bleeding. The bites?"
"Whatever it was, I was able to shrug it off without the Jade Serpent's help. I wish I knew why it didn't work."
"This is the spirit world. It probably wasn't a real poison at all."
"So...a metaphorical poison?"
"Right. Hey! Where'd the thread go?"
"We were just following it...it's attached to you, how can you lose it? Wait...I see it."
"Where?"
"It goes up."
"You're right."
"Can we do that?"
"It is the spirit world..."
Above, in the trees, a strange creature awaited them, its orange-brown fur a sharp contrast to the formless shades of light and dark around them. Long, clever fingers reeled in the 'thread' that was attached to Di'Fier, and when the wizened muzzle pulled back it revealed teeth of gleaming ivory. But the eyes above it were not those of a beast: they were old, wise, and sad.
The thing raised a hand to gesture them closer, showing the flaps of skin that ran from wrists to ankle, intricately painted - or perhaps tattooed - with unknowable designs that danced as the skin moved. It looked them over carefully, as if judging them.
"You may tell your shaman," it began, and the voice startled them as much as the language, "that he is not strong enough to break the doom I have laid upon you." The eyes closed, and it seemed to let out a sigh. "Why have you done what you did?"
Di'Fier licked his lips, glancing to Dru, then stepped forward. "Sir...we did not know what we were eating. We were tricked into it by a woman who calls herself the Swamp Hag. She brought us the meat, and did not tell us what...who...it was from."
The ancient creature snarled. "Too long has she troubled us. An accounting there must be." The eyes fixed upon Di'Fier again. "It is the law of Yazir that someone must pay for this crime: life for life, death for death. When payment has been made, you must return to me, and I will lift the doom. Now go, for they pull upon the strands of your life and I will not spend the strength to keep you here longer."
At his words, the duo felt an insistent pull, a pull that drew them ever more rapidly through the formlessness around them until even the mists were blurred. The greyness came to meet them like a stone floor at the end of a long fall, and then everything faded to black.
drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Seventeen, Part Four: Convalescence
Her opening eyes were greeted by a thin line of red on the eastern horizon. The Zombi Master looked down upon her from behind his skull tattoo, and gestured to the rising sun. "It is good that you have returned," he said, gsturing to the sun that crept imperceptibly upwards. "I fought for hours to bring you back. Had the sun risen you would have been trapped in the spirit worlds."
Dru shook her head, her mouth cottony. "Di'Fier?" she managed to get out. When the Zombi Master didn't answer, she swung herself off of the wooden platform, stumbling as her legs nearly refused to support her weight. "What. About. Di'Fier?"
The islander faced her calmly. "His battle took a heavy toll. The spirit's venom is still inside of him, although the spirit is gone. He is no longer in the grey world - he is inside his own mind now. He is past my ability to help him, or yours. Only he may decide whether he will return."
Dru stepped across and leaned heavily on the other platform, inspecting the catatonic mage. "You'd better," she said softly. Looking up, she met the Zombi Master's deep set eyes. "Tell me about the Swamp Hag."
Steel rang on steel - a sound unfamiliar to the villagers of Burowao. Slowly the Tiger Clan filtered from their huts, looking to the field that lay fallow for a season by order of the gods. The strange visitors were fighting, went the rumor. What's more, it was the women who were doing it! What strange, barbaric ways these pale-skinned folk had...
Only dimly aware of their audience - and then only as the vague registering of a possible threat - Dru parried Shesara's slash easily. "Almost - but you've left yourself open again." She tapped the flat of her blade against the other elf's ribs. "Don't overextend."
Shesara pulled her cutlass back into line. "I think I'd much rather sing about swordfighting than actually do it." She began the attack again, her blade sliding off of Dru's rapier again and again as the elven warrior parried. "What did the Zombi Master tell you about the Swamp Hag?"
"She used to be one of the villagers, he said. She traded her humanity for power." Dru let the next blow slide down her blade to the quillions, then twisted her sword to trap it. "I guess it's almost a position," she said, as she yanked the blade from Shesara's hand, then laid her own against the bard's throat. "He said there has always been a Swamp Hag, and there always will be."
Shesara sagged. "I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of this." Wearily, she picked up the cutlass once again. "I should probably just stay in the back and sing."
"Nonsense. You're not doing that badly. Remember that you've got decades of experience on any roundear you're going to meet on this island." Dru chuckled as she sheathed her blade. "It's a good thing you weren't trained the way I was, though. You'd have a lot more scars."
The blonde elf's gaze fell to the ragged sleeves of Dru's shirt, and the network of white lines on the skin beneath. "Who trained you?"
"Papa did. He was afraid the first time I was wounded, I'd be so in shock from the pain that I wouldn't be able to defend myself." Dru turned to look at the seated figure who had been present for the duel. "What about you, Di'Fier?"
The mage looked dully up at her, as if it were an effort to even consider answering.
"How were you trained?" Dru pressed.
His reply was toneless. "My father used padded swords." Then his gaze leveled as he sank back within himself.
Dru loked at Shesara. "The Zombi Master says that some people never recover any more than this, but the more we can make him interact with the world outside of his head, the better his chances are." She sighed, looking at her partner. "I know how he's feeling. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton when I got up, and I only got bitten by the little ones. Come on, Di'Fier."
Obediently, the mage's body climbed to its feet and shambled after them.
Dru set the spellbook down. Had Di'Fier's eyes followed it as it moved? Was there a flicker of recognition? She knew he would read it if she told him to - his intellect was intact, but his will...he would be reading it because he was told to.
"I'm going out to practice with Shesara," Dru told him. "But I'll leave this here." She lay his sword against the book. "This too." Might as well stack the odds, right? "If you want to, you can read the book."
He looked at her as if to ask for guidance. She ignored it. "I'll see you in a few hours." Then she was gone, and he was alone in the empty hut.
Slowly, his gaze shifted from the doorway to the book. Why hadn't she told him to read it? It was so much easier when people told you what to do - when it was time to eat, to bathe, to sleep, to read...
If you want to...
What did she mean, want? He tried to think of wanting...
A handful of coin, carefully hoarded, given over to a rough man who smelled of the sea. A bag, packed with clothing and the necessities of travel. A dream.
Then: rain, come too early, and an empty dock. The laughter of the longshoreman as he said the ship had sailed three days ago. Soaked to the skin, clutching a book like that one to his chest...
He remembered how the pages had wrinkled from the rain, the bitter disappointment of his plans for adventure. Adventure? This is an adventure...
His hand reached towards the book.
Her opening eyes were greeted by a thin line of red on the eastern horizon. The Zombi Master looked down upon her from behind his skull tattoo, and gestured to the rising sun. "It is good that you have returned," he said, gsturing to the sun that crept imperceptibly upwards. "I fought for hours to bring you back. Had the sun risen you would have been trapped in the spirit worlds."
Dru shook her head, her mouth cottony. "Di'Fier?" she managed to get out. When the Zombi Master didn't answer, she swung herself off of the wooden platform, stumbling as her legs nearly refused to support her weight. "What. About. Di'Fier?"
The islander faced her calmly. "His battle took a heavy toll. The spirit's venom is still inside of him, although the spirit is gone. He is no longer in the grey world - he is inside his own mind now. He is past my ability to help him, or yours. Only he may decide whether he will return."
Dru stepped across and leaned heavily on the other platform, inspecting the catatonic mage. "You'd better," she said softly. Looking up, she met the Zombi Master's deep set eyes. "Tell me about the Swamp Hag."
Steel rang on steel - a sound unfamiliar to the villagers of Burowao. Slowly the Tiger Clan filtered from their huts, looking to the field that lay fallow for a season by order of the gods. The strange visitors were fighting, went the rumor. What's more, it was the women who were doing it! What strange, barbaric ways these pale-skinned folk had...
Only dimly aware of their audience - and then only as the vague registering of a possible threat - Dru parried Shesara's slash easily. "Almost - but you've left yourself open again." She tapped the flat of her blade against the other elf's ribs. "Don't overextend."
Shesara pulled her cutlass back into line. "I think I'd much rather sing about swordfighting than actually do it." She began the attack again, her blade sliding off of Dru's rapier again and again as the elven warrior parried. "What did the Zombi Master tell you about the Swamp Hag?"
"She used to be one of the villagers, he said. She traded her humanity for power." Dru let the next blow slide down her blade to the quillions, then twisted her sword to trap it. "I guess it's almost a position," she said, as she yanked the blade from Shesara's hand, then laid her own against the bard's throat. "He said there has always been a Swamp Hag, and there always will be."
Shesara sagged. "I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of this." Wearily, she picked up the cutlass once again. "I should probably just stay in the back and sing."
"Nonsense. You're not doing that badly. Remember that you've got decades of experience on any roundear you're going to meet on this island." Dru chuckled as she sheathed her blade. "It's a good thing you weren't trained the way I was, though. You'd have a lot more scars."
The blonde elf's gaze fell to the ragged sleeves of Dru's shirt, and the network of white lines on the skin beneath. "Who trained you?"
"Papa did. He was afraid the first time I was wounded, I'd be so in shock from the pain that I wouldn't be able to defend myself." Dru turned to look at the seated figure who had been present for the duel. "What about you, Di'Fier?"
The mage looked dully up at her, as if it were an effort to even consider answering.
"How were you trained?" Dru pressed.
His reply was toneless. "My father used padded swords." Then his gaze leveled as he sank back within himself.
Dru loked at Shesara. "The Zombi Master says that some people never recover any more than this, but the more we can make him interact with the world outside of his head, the better his chances are." She sighed, looking at her partner. "I know how he's feeling. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton when I got up, and I only got bitten by the little ones. Come on, Di'Fier."
Obediently, the mage's body climbed to its feet and shambled after them.
Dru set the spellbook down. Had Di'Fier's eyes followed it as it moved? Was there a flicker of recognition? She knew he would read it if she told him to - his intellect was intact, but his will...he would be reading it because he was told to.
"I'm going out to practice with Shesara," Dru told him. "But I'll leave this here." She lay his sword against the book. "This too." Might as well stack the odds, right? "If you want to, you can read the book."
He looked at her as if to ask for guidance. She ignored it. "I'll see you in a few hours." Then she was gone, and he was alone in the empty hut.
Slowly, his gaze shifted from the doorway to the book. Why hadn't she told him to read it? It was so much easier when people told you what to do - when it was time to eat, to bathe, to sleep, to read...
If you want to...
What did she mean, want? He tried to think of wanting...
A handful of coin, carefully hoarded, given over to a rough man who smelled of the sea. A bag, packed with clothing and the necessities of travel. A dream.
Then: rain, come too early, and an empty dock. The laughter of the longshoreman as he said the ship had sailed three days ago. Soaked to the skin, clutching a book like that one to his chest...
He remembered how the pages had wrinkled from the rain, the bitter disappointment of his plans for adventure. Adventure? This is an adventure...
His hand reached towards the book.
drnuncheon
Explorer
Notes on the last update
Perhaps a bit more fictionalized than some of my other updates - the advantage of the Story Hour over the actual game is that I can include stuff that I didn't think of at the time. It makes Di'Fier's recovery from lost Wisdom a little more interesting.
The full story behind Di'Fier's memory will, with any luck, be posted at some point in the not-too-distant future - Di'Fier's been inspired, like Dru, to write some background stories about what happened before the campaign.
Actually, the old shaman just said that someone must die, not specifically the swamp hag. There was some vague (OOC) consideration of sacrificing Jim, or perhaps one of the gnomes, but Dru and Di'Fier eventually chose to do it the hard way instead.
J
Perhaps a bit more fictionalized than some of my other updates - the advantage of the Story Hour over the actual game is that I can include stuff that I didn't think of at the time. It makes Di'Fier's recovery from lost Wisdom a little more interesting.
The full story behind Di'Fier's memory will, with any luck, be posted at some point in the not-too-distant future - Di'Fier's been inspired, like Dru, to write some background stories about what happened before the campaign.
Horacio said:
Actually, the old shaman just said that someone must die, not specifically the swamp hag. There was some vague (OOC) consideration of sacrificing Jim, or perhaps one of the gnomes, but Dru and Di'Fier eventually chose to do it the hard way instead.
J
Re: Notes on the last update
They are heroes after all
drnuncheon said:Actually, the old shaman just said that someone must die, not specifically the swamp hag. There was some vague (OOC) consideration of sacrificing Jim, or perhaps one of the gnomes, but Dru and Di'Fier eventually chose to do it the hard way instead.
J
They are heroes after all
*dusts off hands* Ok, finally done with this story so far and I have to agree with everyone about the story's greatness. Indeed, I've found myself reading it most of my off hours for the last days. Some very interesting things of late that I'll have to snag for my own campaign.
Is that dream sequence part of the original adventure or something you made up?
Tellerve
Is that dream sequence part of the original adventure or something you made up?
Tellerve
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drnuncheon
Explorer
Tellerve said:
Uhm...which dream sequence? If you mean their adventure in the spirit world, that was all me (inspired by Green Ronin's excellent Shaman book, and the spells that let you fight diseases, spells, and curses as monsters in the spirit world), but it was no dream sequence.
Let me see if I can remember the changes I've made that have shown up so far:
* Adding the City of the Gods and the wizard from the mainland
* Linking the pirates/raiders and the dragon (at least in the minds of the Tanaroans)
* Adding the Swamp Hag and the mythology surrounding her
* Eliminating the rakasta and the phanaton (although old-time gamers may recognize what I replaced them with)
* Adding the Ghoul Lord (added as an explanation for the ghouls on the wandering monster charts)
* And, of course, shipwrecking the PCs there instead of sending them off with a mysterious map and a hope for adventure.
There are more changes later on, too. What can I say? About the only published stuff I didn't hack apart was the original Freeport trilogy.
For a closer look at the original Isle of Dread, Horacio has linked Lazybones' Story Hour a page or so back. His is pretty close, while mine is more like a 'Return to the Isle of Dread'...And for a potentially amusing look behind the scenes...I had originally intended for Our Heros to escape by means of a teleport spell, which Di'Fier doesn't have, yet. Unfortunately, I forgot that Di'Fier's levels in Spellsword only give him a caster level boost every other level, leading to a conversation that went sort of like this.
DF: "Well, that wizard knew teleport. Of course, even if we found his spellbook I wouldn't be able to cast it for another 3 levels..."
Me: "What?!"
DF (continuing): "...and I hope we're not going to be here for that long..."
Me: "I mean, ah, don't worry. You'll get off the island before then." (hurriedly scribbles in his notes)
J
How'd they do it? You'll just have to wait and see...
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drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Eighteen, Part One: Return to Tanaroa
"Look! There they are!" The excited voice of the halfling piped across the hut, and the small knot of castaways gathered at the entrance behind him, the gnomes pushing their way to the front.
"They look like hell," observed Geirstein.
Fonkin peered towards the approaching quartet, now largely obscured by Tanaroans. "Why are they all lumpy? And what are they carrying with them?"
Jim scampered down the ladder. "Let's go see!" He dashed across the uneven ground, squirming into the middle of the crowd. "You were gone for a long time! Why are you covered with big lumps and carrying..." he faltered as he stared at the object. "...a giant honeycomb?"
"Believe it or not, the answers are related," said Dru dryly.
"...and so, between Di'Fier's spell and the smoke Shesara made from burning weeds, we were able to drive off the rest of the bugs."
"Amazing," breathed Jim. "I always wanted a life of adventure at sea, but I never thought it would be like this...I want to go with you next time!"
Dru and Di'Fier exchanged glances. "That...might not be such a good idea, Jim," the mage said gently. "It's very dangerous."
"I don't care! So is living in Freeport!"
Dru raised an eyebrow. "He's got a point, Di'Fier."
"We'd better tell them all what we're up against." Di'Fier turned to the rest of the group. "Apparently when we were in the jungle, we ate some food that was...taboo." No point in horrifying them any more than necessary, he thought.
"Don't beat around the bush, Di'Fier," Dru shot at him. She moved to stand by the fire. "The meat the swamp hag fed us wasn't meat. It was people." Trampling over the expressions of shock, she continued. "Eating people caused a hunter to go insane, to become some kind of weird undead, and it almost happened to Di'Fier too."
"We met a person from the tribe of...of the person we ate," said Di'Fier. "He told us that to repay the death of his clansmen, someone would have to die."
"We made the mutual decision that it would be the swamp hag."
One of the mercenaries looked at his companions. "I'm not sure I relish the idea of fighting a ten foot tall green woman..."
Dru held up a hand. "Nobody has to come. We'll take care of this ourselves if we have to."
Jim bounced to his feet, one hand on his dagger. "I'm coming with you!"
"Mnembe," Dru began as they waited to see the Matriarch. "The Zombi master of Burowao told us that there was always a swamp hag, and there always would be. What happens if she dies?"
Mnembe nodded. "It is a good question. It is said that someone will dream of becoming the Swamp Hag, and that they will vanish from their village and go to take her place." He looked up. "J'kal will see us now."
They approached the Matriarch's throne.
"Matriarch J'kal," Dru began, with Mnembe translating. "It is said that you tricked the swamp hag out of the amulet that you wear. The swamp hag tricked us, and we must confront her. We would like to know your story."
The thin woman scowled, the lines on her face turning downward. She spoke rapidly, and Mnembe translated. "She says that the story is unimportant."
"Even if she thinks it is, "Di'Fier started, "There might be something useful..." He broke off as J'kal began to talk again.
"Matriarch J'kal says that she is grateful for what you have done for the vilage, and that there is much more good that you could do here. She says that surely you have been sent by the gods to save us from the worshipers of the dragon god. She asks me to tell you that the dragon god is half as long as a longhouse..."
Dru looked over at her partner and muttered: "Do you get the impression that she doesn't want us to go after the swamp hag?"
Di'Fier slowly nodded his agreement.
"Look! There they are!" The excited voice of the halfling piped across the hut, and the small knot of castaways gathered at the entrance behind him, the gnomes pushing their way to the front.
"They look like hell," observed Geirstein.
Fonkin peered towards the approaching quartet, now largely obscured by Tanaroans. "Why are they all lumpy? And what are they carrying with them?"
Jim scampered down the ladder. "Let's go see!" He dashed across the uneven ground, squirming into the middle of the crowd. "You were gone for a long time! Why are you covered with big lumps and carrying..." he faltered as he stared at the object. "...a giant honeycomb?"
"Believe it or not, the answers are related," said Dru dryly.
"...and so, between Di'Fier's spell and the smoke Shesara made from burning weeds, we were able to drive off the rest of the bugs."
"Amazing," breathed Jim. "I always wanted a life of adventure at sea, but I never thought it would be like this...I want to go with you next time!"
Dru and Di'Fier exchanged glances. "That...might not be such a good idea, Jim," the mage said gently. "It's very dangerous."
"I don't care! So is living in Freeport!"
Dru raised an eyebrow. "He's got a point, Di'Fier."
"We'd better tell them all what we're up against." Di'Fier turned to the rest of the group. "Apparently when we were in the jungle, we ate some food that was...taboo." No point in horrifying them any more than necessary, he thought.
"Don't beat around the bush, Di'Fier," Dru shot at him. She moved to stand by the fire. "The meat the swamp hag fed us wasn't meat. It was people." Trampling over the expressions of shock, she continued. "Eating people caused a hunter to go insane, to become some kind of weird undead, and it almost happened to Di'Fier too."
"We met a person from the tribe of...of the person we ate," said Di'Fier. "He told us that to repay the death of his clansmen, someone would have to die."
"We made the mutual decision that it would be the swamp hag."
One of the mercenaries looked at his companions. "I'm not sure I relish the idea of fighting a ten foot tall green woman..."
Dru held up a hand. "Nobody has to come. We'll take care of this ourselves if we have to."
Jim bounced to his feet, one hand on his dagger. "I'm coming with you!"
"Mnembe," Dru began as they waited to see the Matriarch. "The Zombi master of Burowao told us that there was always a swamp hag, and there always would be. What happens if she dies?"
Mnembe nodded. "It is a good question. It is said that someone will dream of becoming the Swamp Hag, and that they will vanish from their village and go to take her place." He looked up. "J'kal will see us now."
They approached the Matriarch's throne.
"Matriarch J'kal," Dru began, with Mnembe translating. "It is said that you tricked the swamp hag out of the amulet that you wear. The swamp hag tricked us, and we must confront her. We would like to know your story."
The thin woman scowled, the lines on her face turning downward. She spoke rapidly, and Mnembe translated. "She says that the story is unimportant."
"Even if she thinks it is, "Di'Fier started, "There might be something useful..." He broke off as J'kal began to talk again.
"Matriarch J'kal says that she is grateful for what you have done for the vilage, and that there is much more good that you could do here. She says that surely you have been sent by the gods to save us from the worshipers of the dragon god. She asks me to tell you that the dragon god is half as long as a longhouse..."
Dru looked over at her partner and muttered: "Do you get the impression that she doesn't want us to go after the swamp hag?"
Di'Fier slowly nodded his agreement.
