Forgotten Lore (Updated M-W-F)

[Lazybones]

Chapter 9

Bredan hurt.

His arms hurt. His legs and feet hurt, the exact location of the pain shifting from one moment to the next regardless of how he adjusted himself. His back and neck hurt, especially since it had taken him some time to figure out how to arrange his varied burdens so that the straps didn’t strain his muscles. Even his butt hurt, which was a bit strange since this was really the first chance he’d had to put it to use since they’d set out that morning. It felt like an eternity ago instead of just one day.

He looked around the camp. Everything seemed to be in order in the light of the fading sun just barely peeking out between the uneven line of the western horizon in the distance. He had to acknowledge that Kosk had selected a good spot. From above the little valley nestled in between the seemingly endless parade of hills had seemed like a choked and unappealing thicket, but the dwarf been right that they would find water there. It was only a tiny stream small enough that any of them could step over it without straining. But it had been enough for them to wash up, fill their water bottles, and put together a stew that had tasted like just about the best thing he’d ever eaten. The tangles of dry brush that surrounded them offered at least some protection from both the harsh evening wind and any predators that might stop by during the night, and it kept their fire hidden from casual view.

Bredan winced as he rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks. He had thought he was in good shape from his work in the forge, but it turned out that entirely different muscles were involved when it came to trudging for long hours over difficult terrain while carrying thirty pounds of iron mail, a full pack, and several large and awkwardly-shaped weapons.

It was Kosk who had set the pace, and the dwarf had set a grueling one even considering the fact that his legs were shorter than the rest of theirs. The dwarf was sitting a few feet away, his legs folded under him in a manner that would have been excruciating if Bredan tried it. Kosk didn’t make any effort at idle conversation, and the young smith had no problem keeping things that way. No doubt the dwarf was already thinking about how early a start they could get tomorrow morning.

Bredan didn’t understand his hurry. They each carried a full ten days of rations, though based on how hungry he’d been before dinner the shopkeeper’s estimate of how long the food would last might have been optimistic. Bredan thought he could eat another meal of the same size right then without straining himself. But even if it took a bit longer to find this hidden shrine they should still be fine, as long as they could keep finding water. They could even hunt, maybe. He knew how, though he had to admit that he hadn’t seen much in the way of local wildlife during their first day of travel. That might change when they were further away from Crosspath, though.

He looked up as Quellan returned to the ring of stones they’d arranged around the campfire. The half-orc carried Bredan’s cookpot and their mess kits, washed clean in the stream. Glori came with him, and Bredan admitted he felt a bit of satisfaction at the way she tried to hide a wince as she settled down onto a vacant stone. At least he wasn’t the only one having a bit of trouble with the dwarf’s forced march.

“I think we should maybe each tell the others a little something about ourselves,” Quellan said when he’d put the pots and mess tins away.

“Ah, exposition!” Glori said.

“What?” the cleric asked.

“You know, background information. Establishing the characters for the listener. It’s a common feature in most stories, but you have to be careful not to overdo it; most times the audience wants to get right into the action.”

“Um, Glori, this isn’t a story,” Bredan said.

“Of course it is! It’s almost the story… the heroic journey, four flawed but sympathetic heroes from widely different origins come together to confront common danger and deadly threats that must be overcome to gain the reward…”

“Are you saying there is anything you haven’t told us about you and your friend today?” Kosk asked. “You haven’t shut up for more than five consecutive minutes all day.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being friendly,” Glori said, lifting her chin.

“What I meant,” Quellan quickly added, “Is that perhaps we should talk a bit more about our relative capabilities.”

“Aye,” Kosk said. “The wizard might not have cared if you’re any good with those weapons you carry, but I do.”

“If you’re so concerned, why didn’t you ask before we set out?” Bredan returned.

“I think what my friend means…” Quellan began, but Kosk cut him off with a raised hand. “This job’s an obligation,” the dwarf said. “We’d have gone regardless. But now that you’re here, we need to know if we can rely on you. We might come upon a situation where having someone at your back you can rely on might make the difference between life and death.”

“I’ve seen Bredan fight,” Glori quickly said. “He’s very good.”

It was hard to say who looked more doubtful, Bredan or Kosk, but Quellan didn’t give either a chance to comment. “All of the clerics at the monastery receive a basic training in fighting, and the use of simple weapons,” the half-orc said. “But most of my contribution will come from my connection to Hosrenu. Though the power of the god I can heal wounds and perform other minor magical workings.”

“Glori can cast spells too,” Bredan said.

When the others all turned to look at her the bard flushed. “It’s not me,” she said. “It’s this.” She shifted the lyre around on its strap so that it rested in her lap. “It was a gift from my mentor Majerion, before he… before he left. It’s magical.”

“What spells can you cast with it?” Quellan asked.

“It can cure wounds, you like said.”

“She saved my uncle’s life,” Bredan said. “It was… remarkable.” For a moment the two young adventurers’ eyes met, and Glori smiled.

“What else?” Kosk prompted.

“Just some… some minor enchantments. Just tricks, really. The sort of thing that’s popular with the tavern crowd.” Kosk opened his mouth, but to preempt him she began playing, plucking a soft melody on the strings.

A light shimmered into being above the campfire. It resolved into a tavern scene rendered in miniature. It was silent, and the details were blurry around the edges, but to Bredan it was like looking through a slightly cloudy window. He could almost feel the warmth radiating from the scene, but he knew that if he reached out and touched it his fingers would pass through it like it wasn’t there.

“Even a minor glamour can be useful,” Quellan said. “I am sure your magic will come in handy, Miss Leliades.”

“Just Glori, please,” she said, smiling at the comment.

“What about you?” Bredan said suddenly, nodding toward Kosk. “What do you do? You don’t wear armor, you don’t have any weapons except for that stick and those tiny knives, and all you’ve done thus far is complain.”

“Bredan…” Quellan began, but Kosk interrupted him again with a raised hand. “Fair question,” the dwarf said. He got up and began looking around the camp. He paused and picked up a stone that was slightly smaller than the stew pot.

“You’re a monk, right?” Glori asked. “I’ve heard stories. You guys can do physical feats like breaking boards, jumping over buildings, walking on nails… or hot coals, even water…”

“Walking on water?” Bredan asked dubiously.

“Don’t get him started on the nature of ki,” Quellan said.

“Chee?” Bredan asked.

“It’s a kind of physical magic…” Quellan said.

“Don’t bother with the book answer,” Kosk said as he picked up another rock. He had a small collection tucked into the crook of his arm now, though he seemed to have no difficulty with the awkward burden. “Most of what you’ve heard is just fables and exaggerations. Now I won’t say there’s no such thing as monk-magic. I’ve seen frail-looking old men who you’d think would be barely be able to climb a flight of steps perform feats that most folks would call impossible. But it’s not sorcery. Most of it is just training and discipline. Shaping the body to do what you want it to do. Like the boy and his bulging biceps from his forge.” He dumped the rocks down between Bredan and Glori.

“What are these for?” Bredan said.

“You wanted to know what I can do. Pick these up. Throw them at me. Try to hit me, as hard as you can.”

“You don’t have to…” Glori began, even as Bredan reached for one of the rocks. Quellan sighed and picked up another.

“Better to know who’s got your back,” Kosk said. He walked over to the far side of the fire and took up a position facing them. “Whenever you’re ready. All at once, you don’t have to wait. Pretend I’m a slavering ghoul coming to tear your bloody guts out.” When none of them moved he barked, “Well? Throw!”

At that Bredan cocked his arm back and hurled his rock will all his considerable strength behind the cast. Kosk barely seemed to move, but somehow the rock slid right past him, missing his head by less than an inch before vanishing into the thicket behind the camp.

“Come on, I said all together,” the dwarf said.

Bredan picked up another rock, and after looking at the others for confirmation he threw it, this time aiming for the center of the dwarf’s body. All three rocks shot out at him, but the dwarf was already moving. Spinning on one foot, he snapped out the other and deflected Bredan’s rock while twisting his body to avoid Quellan’s. For a moment it looked as though Glori’s rock had just disappeared, but as the monk finished his spin and came back to his starting point they could see him holding it in the crook of his arm.

“Okay, I guess you can watch my back, then,” Glori said.

 

[Lazybones]

Now that we've gotten the party established and on its way here are the stat blocks for first level. Equipment lists are not exhaustive, just the highlights.

* * *

Bredan Karras, Human Male Fighter, Level 1
AC 16 (chain mail), hp 12, Str 16, Dex 11, Con 15, Int 9, Wis 14, Cha 13
Attacks Greatsword +5 melee (2d6+3 damage), Light Crossbow +2 ranged (1d8 damage)
Background: Folk Hero
Skills: Animal Handling +4, Athletics +5, Perception +4, Survival +4
Special Abilities: Fighting Style: Great Weapon Fighting, Second Wind
Equipment: Chain mail, greatsword, light crossbow and 20 bolts, light hammer

Glorianna (Glori) Leliades, Half-Elf Female Bard, Level 1
AC 15 (leather armor), hp 10, Str 10, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 16
Attacks Shortbow +5 ranged (1d6+3 damage), Dagger +5 melee (1d4+3 damage)
Background: Entertainer
Skills: Acrobatics +5, Deception +5, Sleight of Hand +5, History +3, Investigation +3, Performance +5, Persuasion +5
SA Darkvision, Bardic Inspiration
Spells (DC 13, 2 1st level slots/day): 0/Dancing Lights, 0/Minor Illusion, 1/Animal Friendship, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Heroism, 1/Sleep
Equipment: “Magic” Lyre, leather armor, shortbow and 20 arrows, dagger

Kosk Stonefist, Hill Dwarf Male Monk, Level 1
AC 13 (no armor), hp 12, Str 15, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Attacks Quarterstaff +4 melee (1d6+2) and Martial Arts +4 melee (1d4+2), or darts +3 ranged (1d4+1 damage)
Background: Criminal
Skills: Athletics +4, Deception +1, Insight +4, Stealth +3
SA: Dwarven Toughness
Equipment: quarterstaff, 10 darts

Quellan Emberlane, Half-Orc Male Cleric, Level 1
AC 15 (scale mail, shield), hp 10, Str 16, Dex 8, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 15, Cha 10
Attacks Mace +5 melee (1d6+3 damage)
Background: Acolyte
Skills: Arcana +3, Insight +4, Intimidation +2, History +5, Medicine +4, Persuasion +2, Religion +5
SA Darkvision, Relentless Endurance, Savage Attacks, Knowledge Domain
Spells (DC 12, 2 1st level slots/day): 0/Light, 0/Spare the Dying, 0/Thaumaturgy, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Detect Evil and Good, 1/Guiding Bolt, 1/Shield of Faith, 1/Command, 1/Identify
Equipment: Scale Mail, Mace, Shield

 

[Lazybones]

Book 2: STARTER QUEST/FINDING THEIR FOOTING

Chapter 10

The Dry Hills weren’t really that dry, when you got down to it. While there weren’t any actual forests or meadows full of blooming flowers there was plenty of plant life, from the stubble of weeds that filled in the gaps between the boulders on the stony crests to the sere tangles of brush that populated the low points between the rises. Travel through the region would have probably been easier if the place was as stark as its name suggested. They had particular difficulty navigating the gullies thick with thornspike and the prickleburrs that took advantage of every last bit of soil on the steep hillsides.

Occasionally their route led them over a crest that offered an expansive view of the region. There was a certain stark beauty to this place, but Kosk barely paid it any heed. He’d spent enough time in places like this in his past, places close enough to the trappings of civilization to be profitable but isolated enough to provide shelter from the searching eyes of those who protected the civilized folk. It hadn’t been that long ago in terms of years, but in terms of who he had been and who he was now, it may as well have been a lifetime.

Kosk wasn’t the right bastard he’d been back then, but he allowed himself a certain smug pleasure at pressing the children to a hard pace. He could admit privately that maybe his calves were feeling a bit tight and that the muscles in his back had started to twitch. He would not have been surprised if the tally of his years was higher than that of his three companions put together. But he’d put his body through a lot worse both before and after dedicating himself to the monastic path, and he had no difficulty pushing on through the pain.

Around midday—a lingering low overcast made it difficult to tell exactly—they paused for a break along one of the rocky crests. The boy smith flopped down, exhausted. The girl, to her credit, seemed better off, but then again she wasn’t carrying around a ridiculous weight of armor and unnecessarily large weapons. That sword of his might have looked impressive, but Kosk had taken down men like him with nothing more than a dagger.

A different life, the dwarf reminded himself.

Quellan came over to join him. The half-orc didn’t seem winded, but then again Kosk knew he was the sort who wouldn’t complain even if he had an arm hanging by just a few sinews. They stood there together in companionable silence while the dwarf checked the map. They’d agreed Kosk would carry it since he had the most experience with wilderness travel. He didn’t really need to take a look, as he also had a good memory and they were still a good day at least from the general region where they would find their destination, but it was something to do while he waited for his friend to say his piece.

“You’re pushing them rather hard,” Quellan said finally.

“So? If they can’t keep up, then they should open their mouths.”

“This may startle you to hear it, but you can be a little intimidating sometimes.”

Kosk snorted, but after a moment shot their resting companions a quick look before returning to his scrutiny of the landscape spread out in front of them. In a softer voice he said, “You know that the two of them won’t last two seconds if we run into something real bad out here. You do know that?”

“I think they might surprise you,” Quellan replied.

Kosk happened to glance over at that moment, so he saw the way the cleric’s eyes flicked over at the others as he turned to leave. Saw the way they lingered in one spot in particular.

“Oh, lad, you’re asking for trouble,” the dwarf muttered under his breath.

The terrain grew even more rugged as the day went on, and their pace slowed regardless of Kosk’s efforts. The hills grew steeper, forcing them to go around rather than over them, though that hardly made the journey easier. At one point they made their way into a ravine that offered no way out, forcing them to backtrack and lose a full hour’s progress. They found just enough sources of water to keep their bottles full and ease worries of a shortage. Quellan had prepared a spell that would cleanse any impurities out of any standing pools they encountered, but thus they had found just enough flowing streams and springs that they hadn’t had to use his magic.

They were moving though a strand of scattered trees interspersed with knots of dry thornspike when Kosk felt a sudden premonition of danger. He’d long since learned to trust his instincts, but as he scanned their surroundings he detected no obvious threats. He’d heard small animals scurrying deeper into the undergrowth at their approach and they’d startled the occasional cluster of small birds into flight over the course of the day, but this felt different.

He glanced back at the others. They’d gotten a bit strung out, though Quellan was only about fifteen paces back and the girl, bringing up the rear, was maybe twice that. In between them the boy smith was trudging with his head lowered, apparently completely oblivious to his surroundings. Kosk had to bite back a curse.

Quellan looked up and obviously saw something on his friend’s face, for he reached for his mace. “What…” he began.

He didn’t get a chance to finish his question before an arrow shot out from the trees. It narrowly missed the cleric and shattered against a rock a bit further down the slope.

That got the smith’s attention, as his head shot up and his eyes grew wide. “Ambush!” he yelled.

No kidding, Kosk thought as he dove for cover.

 

[ajanders]

Lazybones is back!!
*Insert happy dance*

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 11

As soon as Bredan realized they were under attack, he shouted a warning to his companions and reached for his sword. He didn’t panic, but as he tried to unfasten his baldric and swing the weapon around it got caught up in the straps of his pack. He tried to swing the pack off but that got caught too as the crossbow attached to the back became tangled in his coat.

Cursing, he looked up and realized two things: first that the unseen archer still hadn’t revealed himself, and second that he was the only one still standing out in the open.

Kosk might have laughed as he watched the smith’s idiotic antics, except for that fact that the boy was about to get himself killed. Whoever had shot at Quellan had not revealed himself, but there could easily be a dozen enemies hidden among the trees that flanked their route. The dwarf was well-protected behind a protruding stone, while Quellan had likewise found good cover a bit further down the slope. But he heard a clatter of rocks from further back and knew that the girl was probably about to do something stupid to save her idiot friend, like charge blindly into the ambush. That might be why they hadn’t shot the boy yet, and were waiting for someone to come to his aid.

Growling, the dwarf grabbed hold of his quarterstaff and leapt over the rock, poised to charge into the trees.

But he didn’t get a chance to cover more than a few steps when a loud voice cried, “Hold! We mean you no harm!”

Then why’d you shoot a bloody arrow at us? Kosk almost shouted back, but instead he said, “Show yourself!”

A figure appeared from the cover of the trees. The muscles in Kosk’s arms twitched when he saw that it was an elf. He carried a bow that he held over his head in one hand, the other held out to show it was empty. There were a few subtle motions behind him to suggest he wasn’t alone.

“I apologize for the attack,” the elf said. “I am Calevas, eldritch knight of the Order of the Il’duir. We are from the Silent Wood, and we are here tracking a party of orcs.” He gestured toward Quellan as if to explain the nature of the mistake.

The cleric rose slowly up out of cover. “No harm was done,” he said. “We haven’t come upon any sign of such a party, though we have only been in the hills for a day and a half.”

“You are a priest?” the elf asked, nodding toward Quellan’s holy symbol.

“I serve the god of knowledge,” Quellan said. “We’re from Crosspath, heading toward the Godstones.”

“You got some friends back there?” Kosk asked. He knew Quellan would chatter all day if given the chance, and he still wasn’t all that sure whether the elf was just trying to draw them out to give his friends a better shot. He glanced back and saw that the smith had finally managed to get his sword out, though he was smart enough to keep it in its scabbard. The girl was standing at his shoulder, her own bow at the ready with an arrow at the string but pointed at the ground.

Calevas slowly raised his free hand and four more elves emerged from the trees. Kosk recognized them as wood elves, dressed for the hunt in swirls of pale colors that blended with the landscape. They looked rather wild, with streaks of pigments darkening their faces and bits of foliage woven into their hair. That was one reason why humans sometimes called the residents of the Silent Wood “wild elves,” in contrast to the southern elves of Tal Nalesh or the Spiralspire. That was just like humans, to judge everyone against their own standards of what they thought civilization should be like. Kosk thought he could pick out the one who’d made the shot; he stood a bit back from the others and didn’t quite meet their eyes.

“The Silent Wood’s a long way away,” Quellan said. “You have been tracking these orcs for a long time?”

“Since they entered the forest a week ago,” Calevas said. “The ones we chase are just the survivors of that intrusion, numbering perhaps a score. They left more than a hundred of their brethren dead behind them.”

“That’s not much of a war band,” Kosk said. “Sounds like they were either stupid or desperate, to enter the Wood like that.”

“They paid for their mistake,” the elf said simply.

“I hope that you find them,” Quellan said. “Believe me, I know full well that their kind are capable of.”

Calevas stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “If you should find them before us, the elves of the Silent Wood will pay a bounty for proof of kills.”

“Proof?” Glori asked.

“Usually taking the ears is the easiest way,” Kosk said. The girl didn’t say anything, but her lips twisted in disgust or disapproval.

“It grows late,” Quellan said. “Perhaps you would like to share camp with us?”

The elf leader shook his head. “No. We still have a great deal of terrain to cover. You are certain it is clear to the south?”

“We said we didn’t see anything,” Kosk said.

“Very well. Safe travels.” Without waiting for a response he turned and vanished back into the trees at a sprint, his companions falling in behind him. The elf that had almost shot Quellan shot them one last look that might have meant anything before he, too, was gone.

“Well now, that was a bit of excitement,” Quellan said.

“Do they really cut off ears as trophies?” Glori said.

“If you saw what an orc raiding party could do, you’d be less squeamish,” Kosk said.

“The enmity between the elves of the northern woods and the orc tribes of the mountains is a deep one,” Quellan said. “We’re not in a position to judge them.”

“They didn’t seem that interested in what we are doing in the Dry Hills,” Glori noted.

“I doubt they care,” Kosk said. “The wood elves generally prefer to stay in their forests. That they’d come this far south testifies to the grudge they bear.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t run into these orcs,” Bredan said. He still looked a bit sheepish from his earlier misadventure.

Kosk shot him a hard look, but finally nodded. “We’d better start looking for someplace secure to bed down for the night. Hopefully them elves will clear the immediate area for us, but you never know what you’ll find in a place like this.”

“With luck, this encounter will be enough adventure for one day,” Quellan said.

As they prepared to resume their march, Glori went over to Quellan and said, “You were pretty mild to that elf who nearly shot you.”

“An honest mistake,” Quellan said. “I wish I could say it was the first time something like that had ever happened.”

“Don’t worry, that elf’ll be in trouble when he gets back home,” Kosk said.

“Why?” Glori asked. “Because he almost shot a priest of Hosrenu?”

The dwarf shook his head. “No. Because he missed such an easy shot.”

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 12

Their second night in the Dry Hills was quiet and unremarkable. The night passed swiftly for those wrapped in their bedrolls, slowly for those awake on watch. The encounter with the elves had put them all on edge, and once they had eaten their evening meal they let the fire go out, leaving them to shiver in their blankets before exhaustion finally dragged them under.

The sense of gloom lingered over breakfast. They ate quickly and collected all their gear, cleaning up any sign of their presence as best they could before setting out again. The morning overcast lingered as the day went on, accompanied by a hard wind that gusted through the gaps between the hills, tugging at their cloaks and rustling the dry brush.

The terrain remained just as difficult as it had been the day before, but it was clear that they were making progress. When in the dells with their thickets of thorny brush and labyrinths of boulders it felt like they were crawling, but occasionally they would reach a crest to get an expansive view of both the ground they’d covered and the route ahead. For most of the morning the hills ahead had seemed to grow, until they climbed yet another ridge around noon to see a series of tall bluffs ahead of them.

“The Godstones,” Glori said. Kosk consulted the map briefly then led them forward again.

As they drew nearer to their destination the landscape changed subtly, the spaces between the hills growing wider. The Dry Hills remained true to their name, with streams or waterholes rare enough that they filled up all their bottles each time they found a source. Bredan’s father had taught him a little bit about survival in the wilderness, including how to find water and which plants were safe to eat, but for the most part they had to rely upon the stores they’d brought with them. The smith realized that his earlier thoughts about hunting to augment their rations had been foolish; the creatures of the Dry Hills clearly knew how to remain hidden.

The sun was just starting to peek out from behind the clouds when their path wound down from yet another ridge into a forest. The trees, mostly oaks and other broadleaf varieties that could tolerate the drought, remained scattered enough that they could always see the sky above. The ubiquitous scrub brush thinned only slightly, forcing them into frequent detours around particularly dense knots of growth.

They were navigating their way around one such cluster when Bredan came to a sudden stop. Glori, following behind him, immediately reached for her bow. “What is it? Orcs?”

“There’s something over there,” he said, pointing to a spot in the shade of a pair of interlaced oaks maybe fifty feet away. Glori came up next to him and followed his outstretched finger with her gaze to what looked like the rotted remains of a third tree that had fallen between them. The branches of the two trees were woven together like lovers’ fingers, but just enough sunlight made it through their canopy to gleam off of something metallic.

“Hey, Quellan, Kosk!” Glori hissed. The pair had gotten a good distance ahead, with Kosk setting his usual brisk pace, but when the bard plucked a single string on her lyre they heard and came back to rejoin them. “What is it?” Kosk asked impatiently.

“There’s something metal over there, under those trees,” Glori reported. Bredan had unfastened his sword, but he kept it in its scabbard as he regarded the trees with wary suspicion.

“Think there might be someone waiting over there in ambush?” Glori whispered.

“No,” Kosk said. “If there was someone there, they’d have moved when they saw they had been marked.” But he kept his attention focused on the glimmer they could all now see clearly.

“Do you hear something?” Bredan asked.

They all listened, but all they heard was the faint rustle of the afternoon breeze. “What did you hear?” Quellan asked.

“Not sure. Something moving.”

“Could have been a small animal taking cover,” Kosk said. But his wariness hadn’t eased. “All right, let’s go check it out. Real slow.”

“Oh, sure, now he wants to go slow,” Bredan said under his breath. But he accompanied the others forward.

The four companions spread out as they approached the fallen tree. There wasn’t much of it left, the trunk and exposed roots riddled with holes wrought by insects and decay. But as they entered the ring of shade under the two standing oaks they could just make out the outline of something that didn’t quite fit.

“Is that… a body?” Glori asked.

The others didn’t get a chance to answer, as they all heard the sound that had alerted Bredan earlier: the sudden rush of flapping wings. They didn’t have to wonder long at the source as half a dozen small flying creatures erupted from under and around the rotten trunk of the fallen tree. The companions only got a moment to register leathery wings, hooked legs, and long, thin snouts before the things let out a collective shriek and dove at them.

“Gah!” Glori shouted as the creatures attacked.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 13

Glori had her bow ready and fired off a shot at the first of the monsters that dove at her. But her aim was hasty and the arrow narrowly missed. She let out a startled cry as her target swept down at her, its claws snapping for purchase as it brushed past her head.

Bredan tried to move to her aid but was intercepted by a pair of the things. He didn’t think, just moved into a ready stance and chopped down with his sword. The heavy blade tore through the first creature’s wing and into its body, cleaving it almost in two. The thing let out a squeak and collapsed to the ground, still twitching.

The other one tried to take advantage of its comrade’s sacrifice, diving toward Bredan’s face. But he reacted as if the attack had been a high swing, ducking under it and spinning around to bring his sword up into a defensive stance. The creature flapped its wings madly and reoriented itself before coming at him again.

Kosk and Quellan met more of the things together. Quellan struck one with his mace and knocked another aside with his shield. Kosk merely waited until his foe was extending its claws to seize hold of his robe, then at the last instant he drove his staff up under its neck. The monster flopped over and landed on its back, still struggling until the monk stomped on it with a sandaled foot.

Glori let out a shriek and yelled, “Get it off me!” As she spun around, trying to reach around with her bow, the others could see the creature clinging to her back.

Bredan’s second foe was fluttering around in the branches of the oak trees, staying out of reach of his sword, but the smith came immediately to the bard’s aid. She saw him and stopped spinning, but as he lifted his sword he hesitated, perhaps aware that he could end up doing more harm than good if he missed his target.

Before he could think of something else to do Quellan stepped between them. The half-orc reached out and seized hold of the creature on Glori’s back. They could all hear the thing’s bones snapping as the priest’s meaty fingers tightened around its body. But it refused to release its grip until Quellan literally tore it free, the sharp tip of its snout glistening red with Glori’s blood.

Bredan started to ask if she was all right, but she interrupted with a pointed finger and a shout of warning. The creature that the smith had been fighting had taken advantage of his distraction and dove at his back. He spun around and raised his sword. He wasn’t fast enough to chop it out of the air like he had the first, but he managed to clip one wing with the crossguard of his sword. The creature bounced off his arm and fluttered to the ground. Unable to fly, it kept trying to get close enough to hook its hooked claw-feet around one of his legs. With a look of distaste Bredan pinned it to the ground with his sword, waiting until it stopped moving before he stepped on its intact wing and yanked his blade free.

“Hold still, lad,” Kosk said as he came up behind Quellan. Glori turned and her eyes widened as she saw another of the things clinging to the back of the cleric’s left shoulder. Quellan didn’t betray any reaction as the monk crushed the bloodsucking monster with a blow from his staff. Once it was dead the cleric reached back and pulled it free, grimacing as the proboscis tore his skin on the way out.

Bredan looked around to make sure there were no more of them before he moved to Glori’s side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, though she shivered. “What were those things?”

“My people call them strix,” Kosk said. “Stirges, I think is the common name. They are pretty common in the underground realms.”

“Stirges,” Glori said with disgust. “Hideous things.”

“It looks like it got a bite out of you,” Bredan said, checking her back.

“It would have gotten a lot more if it had the chance,” Glori said. She turned to Quellan. The half-orc was wiping his bloody hand on a piece of cloth, but he looked a bit disconcerted at her words. “I’m sorry I panicked,” she said. “I bet that one wouldn’t have gotten you if you hadn’t come to help me.”

“No one was seriously harmed,” Quellan said. “To be on the safe side, I should heal your wound so that it does not become infected.”

“Only if you let me fix yours,” she said. She started to put her bow down and reached for her lyre, only to spin back around as they heard the sound of wood snapping. All three of them turned and lifted their weapons only to see Kosk probing into the fallen tree with his staff.

“No more of them,” the dwarf said, seemingly unaware or unconcerned with the alarm he’d caused. “But this is interesting.”

The others came forward, their wounds momentarily forgotten now that they could examine what had lured them here in the first place. There was a corpse half-buried in the exposed and sagging roots of the fallen tree. He—if it had been a he—had clearly been there a long time.

“He was a warrior,” Bredan said, kneeling to examine the mail links that were visible through the gaps in the mud and growth that covered the remains. But the armor was completely ruined, as was the axe blade and rusted dagger he pried up out of the ground nearby.

“He had this,” Kosk said. He held up a silver brooch, a circular cloak pin shaped to resemble three serpents wound together in an endless loop. The silver was still bright and untarnished. Clearly that had been what they’d seen in the stray beam of sunlight.

Glori looked at the brooch in the dwarf’s hand, clearly interested. “What are those gems in the snakes’ eyes? Tiny emeralds?”

“Too light in color,” Kosk noted. “Peridots, I’d guess.”

Glori looked at him in surprise, then returned her attention to the brooch. “It’s not tarnished at all. Magic?”

That last was directed at the group in general, but Kosk said, “Maybe.” For a moment he regarded the find with interest, but then suddenly he thrust it at Glori. “Take it. We can look at it later, once we’re well away from this place. There might be more of those things out hunting, and they could come back at any time.”

That suggestion got them moving again. Quellan and Glori each healed the other’s injuries. Bredan watched them work their spells. He was already familiar with the magic of Glori’s lyre, though watching it being worked still continued to amaze him. The cleric’s magic was more conventional; he just held his holy symbol and chanted a prayer before touching two of his huge fingers to the bard’s back. A blue glow briefly suffused the area around the puncture wound before it faded to reveal unmarked skin. Glori noticed him watching and winked at him before pulling her coat back on.

“Do you think we’re getting close?” Bredan asked Kosk.

“We’re not getting any closer standing here,” the monk replied. He trudged across the clearing under the trees and continued in that brisk pace he had that ate up strides as quickly as his longer-legged companions.

“Is he always like this?” Bredan asked.

“Pretty much,” Quellan said.

“Look at it this way,” Glori said, pinning the brooch to her coat. “We beat some monsters and found some treasure. We’re already halfway to becoming heroes.” With a final smile at Quellan, she marched after the fast-receding dwarf.

The young smith and the cleric shared a look. “Pretty much,” Bredan said to the unanswered question. They shared a laugh that quickly faded as they gave the gory scene of their first encounter one last look before they hurried to catch up with their companions.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 14

Bredan looked up through the gap in the trees at the bluff that rose up in front of them. It wasn’t the largest of the massive formations that the map and Glori had called the Godstones, but it was still impressive. Bredan could see where the name had come from. It was as if someone had constructed a series of giant stone citadels atop this region of the Dry Hills. The mesas rose up hundreds of feet above the highest of the hills that had given them so much trouble over the last few days.

The one in front of them had a distinctive feature, a cleft in one side that looked like a blow from a colossal giant’s axe. According to Starfinder’s instructions and the map, that was where they would find the entrance to the ancient shrine.

“I have to give you credit, you got us here,” Glori said to Kosk. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

The dwarf snorted. “Any idiot can follow a map.” But he did not look displeased at the comment.

“The question now is, do we set up camp before making our approach?” Quellan said. “We’ll need to wait for morning before attempting the ascent, in any case.”

They all looked west, where the late afternoon sun was steadily dropping toward the distant horizon.

“We might as well get closer,” Kosk suggested. “Likely to be better shelter along the base of the bluff, and it cuts down on the directions an enemy can approach the camp.”

“What if someone else comes looking for the shrine?” Bredan asked.

“Well then, we’ll be in a better position to deal with them, no?” the dwarf said.

They made their way back into the forest, which grew thicker around them. From their vantage it had looked as though they still had a good hike ahead to get to the bluff, but the ground began to rise almost immediately. They passed boulders the size of wagons and even a few that were the size of a farmer’s cottage, forcing them to circle around. The shadows around them deepened as the day faded and Bredan found himself seeing threats in each of them. He took some solace in the fact that both Glori and Quellan looked equally jumpy. Only Kosk seemed unaffected, trudging up the rise with his usual brisk pace. Bredan tried to ignore the twinges in his legs as the change in slope added fresh strain on already tired muscles. He thought about unlimbering his crossbow, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. He hitched up his baldric so that the buckle was in easy reach and hurried after the others.

They were approaching another of the massive rocks when Kosk suddenly stopped and held his hand up in warning. The others tensed and listened. “What is it?” Bredan finally hissed.

“Wood smoke,” Kosk said without turning.

Bredan sniffed the air and smelled it, just a hint on the gentle breeze. The trees were thick enough that he couldn’t see the source, but it had to be pretty close given how little wind there was.

“All right, let’s check it out,” Kosk said. Bredan was about to unsling his pack to get the bow when an old woman stepped out from behind the boulder.

“You must be here for the shrine,” she said.

They all jumped a bit, even Kosk, though the woman made no hostile moves. She was human and looked to be about sixty. She was dressed in a simple wool robe and appeared to be unarmed, though the oddity of her presence here kept the four adventurers on edge. “Who are you?” Quellan asked. “And what are you doing here?” Kosk added.

“My name is Arras. I am a scholar of ancient lore. Perhaps not unlike whoever sent you here?”

“You seem to know a lot about us,” Quellan suggested.

“I only make assumptions based upon the evidence that is in front of me.”

“We could be bandits,” Kosk said.

“I find it doubtful that a priest of Hosrenu would be in such a company. Or a musician, or a monk of the Open Hand.” She gave Bredan a quick look but didn’t add a comment; maybe she thought he did look like a bandit, he thought. He had the resist a sudden impulse to straighten his hair.

“So you are interested in the Eth’barat?” Glori asked.

“Of course. I would hardly come all this way out into the middle of nowhere otherwise.”

“Are you alone?” Kosk asked her.

“I was,” Arras said with a smile. “I have a camp not far from here. It’s getting late, and I’ll be happy answer all of your questions there.”

The others shared a look that clearly said they were all on the same page in terms of trust, but finally Glori shrugged and said under her breath, “Better to know more than less, I suppose.” In a more normal voice she said to the old woman, “Lead on!”

Arras’s camp was in small dell formed between two ridges of exposed stone that jutted out from the mass of the bluff. They couldn’t see the cleft from that vantage, but based on the way that the ground rose up steeply ahead they had to be close.

As if reading their minds, Arras said, “We’re close. There’s a path that leads up into the cleft. The entrance to the shrine is about halfway up. Watch your step, there.”

The smoke they’d smelled earlier rose from a small campfire concealed within a shallow pit. A thin iron frame that could support a pot was erected over it. Other common items were scattered around the camp, including a bedroll and a few extra blankets, an assortment of waterskins, pouches, and sacks, and a line of extra clothes drying between two trees. The secret of how she’d gotten everything out here was explained by the mule that was cropping grass near the back of the dell. The beast gave them a brief look as they came into the camp and then went back to its supper.

“It looks like you’ve been here for a while,” Quellan said.

“A few weeks,” Arras said. “Unfortunately I have been having some difficulty gaining access to the shrine.”

“Is there a seal?” Kosk asked as she strode around the camp in a circle, taking in every detail while not turning his back on the old woman.

“No, it’s open, but there’s a creature guarding the entrance. And the bugbears that went up there a few days ago are another potential problem.”

“Wait, creature?” Bredan asked.

“Bugbears?” Glori added.

Quellan held up a hand. “I think you’d better tell us what’s going on here.”

“Certainly. But first, let me get you a drink. I think I have a little plum wine left in one of the panniers...”

“That’s okay, we don’t need anything,” Quellan said.

“I insist,” Arras said. “After all, you haven’t told me anything about yourselves yet, or what you are doing here. And if you are in fact a priest of Hosrenu, then you know about the rules of hospitality. Not that there’s anything I could do if in fact you proved to be… unpleasant,” she said with a notable look at Kosk, “but I would feel better if we went through the formalities.”

With that she strode past the dwarf and moved to the back of the camp, past where the mule was tethered to a sheltered niche where several wicker panniers had been carefully arranged under a tarp. She briefly passed out of their view as she bent under the cover and began digging through her supplies.

As soon as she was out of direct line of sight Glori turned to Quellan and Bredan and hissed, “What are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?” Quellan asked.

“Come on… do you really think this old woman could have survived out here alone for weeks?”

Quellan looked at her in confusion. “Well, obviously she did…” but Bredan took her arm and murmured, “What are you saying? That she’s some kind of witch or something?”

Glori said, “Look, I know most of the stories I tell are just… well, a lot of them are exaggerated. But others… I mean, you meet a strange old woman in the middle of nowhere, no, right next to some weird magical shrine, and she’s insisting on offering us a drink…”

“You’re the one who wanted to come here!” Bredan hissed.

“There is no evidence she’s anything other than what she says she is,” Quellan said.

“Just ask yourself, what chance is it that she’s just some old woman who happens to be an expert at survival in a place like the Dry Hills…”

“Maybe she’s in league with those bugbears,” Bredan whispered.

Quellan let out an exasperated sigh. “We only know about them because she told us about them,” he reminded them.

“She’s coming back,” Kosk warned in a soft voice. He was still over by the campfire, but from the look on his face he’d listened in on their entire conversation.

Arras seemed unperturbed as she returned to the main camp. She was holding a small bottle and a handful of cups. “I’m sorry, I don’t have enough cups for everyone, you’ll need to share.”

“Really, it’s okay, we don’t need anything,” Bredan said. “We’re fine.”

“You should ask your cleric friend to explain the rules of hospitality,” the old woman said as she uncorked the bottle and poured a splash of pale liquid into one of the cups. “Not enough of you young people value the old traditions.”

“If we don’t value those traditions, why is it so important that we do this?” Glori asked.

“Call me old-fashioned.” She held the cup out to Kosk. “Here, master dwarf, drink. I know it’s not ale, but…”

Kosk held out the cup and turned it upside down, spilling the liquid on the stones along the edge of the firepit.

“Well now, that’s rude,” Arras said. “I think…”

She didn’t get a chance to finish, as he snapped out a fist and punched her hard in the face.

 

[carborundum]

Crikey!

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 15

The old woman crumpled, and nearly fell into the fire before she rolled over and lay in a lifeless heap upon the ground.

The dwarf’s three companions stood staring for a shocked moment. “What in the hells did you do that for?” Bredan finally blurted.

“She was lying,” Kosk said.

Quellan hurried forward and knelt beside the old woman. Blood smeared the lower half of her face and continued to pulse from her nostrils.

“Is she dead?” Glori asked.

“I just knocked her out,” Kosk said, but he watched intently while Quellan checked her pulse. “She’s alive,” the cleric confirmed.

Bredan circled around the fire. “You can’t just punch an old woman in the face!”

“You said she might be a witch,” Kosk said with a shrug.

“Yeah, but… we don’t know that!” Bredan yelled back.

“Um… better keep your voice down,” Glori said. She took a wary look around the dell, but the only other witness was the mule, which continued to munch on the grass disinterestedly. “I do have to admit that I wouldn’t expect a witch to go down so easily.”

“Yes, see!” Bredan said, pointing at her.

“What’s done is done,” Kosk said.

Bredan threw up his hands. “What’s wrong with you?”

At that Kosk turned suddenly and stepped up until he was well within arm’s reach of the smith. “Careful, boy,” he said.

Bredan tensed but didn’t retreat. “Or else what, you’ll punch me in the face?” he asked.

A tense moment followed, finally interrupted when the cleric said, “She’s coming around.”

They all stepped back to give the cleric some room. The old woman groaned and stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, but her eyes remained vacant for a moment before they focused on Quellan. Then they widened and she sucked in a startled breath.

“Take it easy, stay calm,” Quellan said. “It’s all right, everything’s all right.”

She drew back but didn’t try to get up. She reached up and touched her face, but the sight of her blood on her fingers didn’t cause her to panic. Instead she sent a venomous look around the circle of observers. “You hit me.”

“I’m sorry, there was a misunderstanding on our part,” Quellan said.

“On mine as well,” Arras said. “Maybe that symbol you’re wearing doesn’t mean what I think. Or maybe blood tells.”

Quellan flinched as if he’d hit her, but Kosk stepped forward. “You must admit it’s strange, an old woman out here all alone. The Dry Hills are dangerous, and you could have been…”

“A witch? An old hag, like from the stories?” She shot a look at Glori, who looked away, abashed. “Well, I wish I was, then I’d turn the lot of you into bloody slugs.”

Kosk, however, wouldn’t yield. “You pushed that wine on us rather suspiciously.”

She started to get up and the monk shifted slightly, but she only leaned over to where the bottle of wine and the cups had fallen. She filled one of the cups and drank it down in a single gulp. “Satisfied?”

“Look, we’re sorry, but as I said, it was a misunderstanding,” Quellan said. “Maybe we can all settle down, talk more about what you said earlier, about the bugbears, the guardian…”

“I hope they flay you alive, either one,” she said. She got up and walked over to the line of laundry. She took a piece of cloth and soaked it from a nearby waterskin, then used it to rub the blood off her face. “You can do whatever you please, but you get out of my camp, and don’t let me see you back here.”

“Or else what?” Kosk asked.

She glared at him, but Quellan quickly stepped forward. “We’ll leave. But before we go, I’m a cleric, I can heal you…”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Get out.”

Bredan didn’t realize how late it had gotten until they left the camp and the glow of the fire behind them. But there was still enough lingering light for him to stay with the others as they made their way back into the forest. His companions, naturally, had no difficulty, and he envied them their darksight.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Glori finally said.

“Think she’ll try to kill us in our sleep?” Kosk asked.

“If she does, I’m sure you can beat the crap out of her,” Bredan said.

“Look, boy…”

“All right, leave it,” Quellan said, again stepping between them. “Just let it be. It’s getting dark, and we need to find another place that’s safe to rest.”

“If she was telling the truth about the guardian and those bugbears, there may not be a safe place anywhere around here,” Bredan said.

“Yeah, I don’t think I want to run into a bugbear, day or night,” Glori said.

“They’re just big goblins,” Kosk said. “You can wait for us down here if you want.”

“Are you calling us cowards?” Bredan asked.

“I’m just saying that…”

Quellan suddenly stopped and turned so quickly that Glori nearly ran into him. “Look, just… just stop,” he said, holding up his hands toward the other two men. “We all knew that this trip could be dangerous, but we can’t afford to turn on each other, not here, not now. Regardless of what just happened, we have to pull together.”

For a moment they all just stood there in silence. Bredan again regretted not being able to see his companion’s faces in the deepening twilight. But a moment later Glori took his hand in hers, and he could feel reassurance seeping into him from that contact.

“We passed a spot a ways back that could serve,” Kosk said. Without waiting for confirmation from the others he trudged back down the slope.

Quellan looked back at Bredan and Glori, then shrugged and headed after the dwarf.

“I hope we haven’t made a big mistake here,” Bredan said.

“It’ll be all right,” Glori replied. “You’ll see. Come on, we shouldn’t get separated.”

Neither of them saw the glistening eyes that watched their progress from under the half-exposed roots of a nearby tree.