Greyhawk: The Divinity Maneuver (A Menagerie of Perspectives, 8/9)
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GreyShadow
Explorer
Very nice.
I always wanted to play in the Verse with Iuz's forces making things interesting.
Cheers
I always wanted to play in the Verse with Iuz's forces making things interesting.
Cheers
Welverin
First Post
Well if you just found this one, then maybe you also missed Forceuser's older story hour. If so give it a try, monkeys galore!
ForceUser
Explorer
-Dera-
The morning sun lanced through the trees, reflecting off dewy mist and glistening flora. Life chorused throughout the wood elf settlement – earthworms struggled to churn the thick black loam, dogs barked playfully, and everywhere the inhabitants went about their daily lives. Dera breathed deeply, inhaling the vitalizing, rustic world around her. Crisp air filled her lungs; she let it out reluctantly, with a sigh.
Nearby, everyone made ready to depart. Garlok secured his kit, balancing it precariously on his back, Mordecai spoke with Ertan and Lorielle, Falco helped Erak adjust his breastplate, and Travis checked the elf-home to make sure nobody left anything behind. Near Mordecai stood another figure: a slight elven woman with deeply tanned skin, light brown hair that fell to her shoulder blades in many knotted braids, and cool lavender eyes that regarded the adventurers with mild interest. She gripped a tall ashwood staff, and beside her sat a large gray wolf obediently, tongue lolling out of its toothy mouth.
“That’s everything,” said Travis as he exited the home for the final time. Dera’s pulse quickened – what exactly were they about to do?
“Gather ‘round,” declared Mordecai. He gestured at the wolf and said, “Dagys, come.” It loped happily toward him.
Erak raised an eyebrow, “Yours?”
“Just a friend,” answered the druid obliquely. The group had huddled up, much like they did when Mordecai had enabled them to pass without a trace through the forest. The elven druid, introduced to them as Enuesendri, smiled as though she found this amusing. Mordecai glanced at her and announced, “We are ready.”
Next to Dera, Travis whispered, “What exactly are we about to do?”
“No clue,” whispered Falco back. He appeared nervous.
Sensing their unease, Enuesendri stepped closer then, leaning on her staff. When she spoke, her voice reminded Dera of a large river’s slow rush. “Far west of here lies the spine of the Clatspurs, but between here and there you will find a hilly upland hard against the forest. This spell will take you there, if you but fly west.” She began to chant then.
“Wait, what? I don’t…” began Erak. Then Dera felt a strange warm sensation tingling throughout her body, and in an instant of terror the world rushed into huge magnification, like a wizard’s experiment gone haywire. The elves around her loomed like impossible giants viewed through a fish-eye lens, the trees behind them tall as mountains. Alarmed, she gasped, “Chirp! Chirp!”
“Chirp-chirp-chirp!” exclaimed Travis beside her, hopping madly on scaly gray feet. He puffed up in indignation, becoming a round brown ball of feathers. All around her, little sparrows hopped and tweeted chaotically. Dera tilted her left eye far upward to see amused expressions on the faces of the assembled elves. Enuesendri bent low and in a thunderous voice whispered, “FLY NOW.”
Understanding dawned. Experimentally, Dera hopped high and flapped her arms. She zipped upward like a drunken bee to find herself eye to eye with Lorielle, who laughed. Amazed, she stopped flapping and began to fall back to the ground, but the woman caught her gently, cupping her hands. “Chirp-chirp-chirp!” exclaimed Dera with excitement.
From below, she caught the stern voice of Mordecai, “Chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp!” Time to go.
“Who’s the birdbrain now?” came a thought from Tiki, gleefully.
“Chirp-chirp…er, hush, you,” she replied mentally. She could sense his immense amusement.
They thrust into the air with tweets and chirps of farewell, following Mordecai up past the tree line, seven sparrows and one small owl. Buffeted from a northern breeze, they fought west through the air. Below them the majestic Vesve spread as far as they could see, an ocean of green. In places mist obscured the terrain below, and other flocks of birds flew lazily here and there. The world above the canopy resonated with serenity.
After a while, Dera began to feel sad.
“What’s wrong?” came Tiki’s mental voice.
“It’s not the same,” she sighed.
“Oh.” He understood. As small birds they wrestled with every gust of wind, and avoided larger flyers. The Dragon-Dera in her dreams beat the air into submission, ruler of her environment. As birds they…
“…survived at the sky’s mercy,” she finished. She felt a wave of sympathy resonate from Tiki.
They flew west, and the Vesve rolled beneath them like a river.
--
As dusk approached, Mordecai began to spiral downward toward a stubby hill strewn with boulders. Behind them lay the dark expanse of the forest, ahead Dera thought she saw what could be mountains, but right here the land stumbled over itself like a drunken dwarf. More rocks dotted the rough landscape than trees. She felt glad that the flight was over; her shoulders ached with the effort of a day’s sustained effort. Upon touching down, Mordecai’s form swelled and elongated, and feathers rustled and gave way to flesh and clothes. In a dusty voice he croaked, “Change back now. Just imagine yourselves as you truly are.”
She imagined herself as a princess with men falling over themselves trying to impress her. Tiki guffawed mentally. There came a dizzying sensation of motion, then she opened her eyes to discover she stood among the company once again. Most of them collapsed wearily on the earth, stretching sore muscles.
“Modest, aren’t we?”
“Let me have my fantasies,” she quipped.
“We are in the Sepia Uplands,” began Mordecai,” we must be careful, for the Old One’s orcs often foray here for mineral wealth, and there are other dangerous creatures besides.”
We’re exposed up here,” grunted Garlok, “Let’s find a better spot to camp.”
Nobody argued, but several grumbled. It had been a long day. The aching adventurers followed the dwarf down the western slope of the hill. Garlok mumbled to himself as he led them around, sometimes cresting hills alone to survey the countryside, other times leading them through rain-gouged gullies. As the sun began to disappear behind the horizon, a bestial roar pierced the air. Garlok spit, “Whuzzat?”
“Sounds large!” gasped Falco, fatigue apparent in his voice. The party hunkered low against a boulder.
Something made noisy, erratic steps – THOOM, THOOM, THOOM-THOOM – that echoed off the canyon walls and throughout the jagged gullies.
Cowering, they listened. Dera dug Tiki out of her backpack and tossed him into the air. “Go look,” she ordered. Resentfully, he complied. Long seconds passed, then she felt a surge of fear and alarm from her familiar. “What is it?” she urged.
“It’s…it’s…” the owl seemed confused, taken aback.
“Yes?”
“It’s…huge!” he replied, his terror transmitted through their empathic link.
“Tiki sees something really large out there,” warned Dera.
Garlok growled, “A giant, I wager. Nice knowing you folks.”
“Dera, you’ve got to come see this!”
“Tiki, what…”
“The big one is chasing the little ones!” he screeched excitedly.
Dera began to scramble up the nearest hill, her skirts causing her to slip and bang her knees as she scrabbled. She heard alarmed shouts from her companions below her, but she ignored them. If they had been in danger Tiki would never have told her to come look. Panting with exertion, she crested the summit in time to witness an event that would have a profound effect on the rest of her life.
Below her, the peak dropped into a deep, wide gully ringed with broken hills. The ravine ran over a hundred yards long, tapering into a narrow defile at the other end. Sprinting toward the gap where the defile dead-ended were three powerfully built fur-clad barbarians wielding spears and axes. Chasing them and grunting with rage thundered a massive spindly-armed giant, nearly twenty feet tall. Clad only in a filthy loincloth, the creature brandished a small tree it had apparently uprooted to use as a club. A bald pate stood out from a filthy ring of hair across its wide oblong skull; it ran flat-footed, huge belly flopping grotesquely. Dera could hear it panting heavily, as though out of breath.
Behind her, she vaguely registered swearing and grunting as the rest of the party climbed up the slope. She ignored them, captivated by the scene in the gully. From her vantage point she could tell that the barbarians were trapped; there appeared to be no way out save past the giant. She thought of trying to warn them, but they were too far away to hear her shout, and it would make no difference anyway. They tried to scramble up the defile only to discover the steep, impossible climb. Only then did they turn around to face the monster, spreading out in a hopeless attempt to counter its great reach. It roared then in victory, smashing its club several times into the hard-packed earth. Dera, watching helplessly, felt the teeth rattle in her head. She felt awed and appalled by the monster’s unearthly strength.
“Should…” she heard Falco say tentatively as he struggled for breath, “should we try to help?”
“There’s a mountain giant, reverend. We could do naught but join them in death,” whispered Garlok from beside her.
“We have to do something…” but the priest didn’t move.
“Brave men,” muttered Garlok sadly, “brave men.”
The giant charged the left-most warrior, swinging its tree in a wide over-head arc first left, then right. Air whooshed past the man as he ducked and rolled under the first blow, but the backhand swing caught him on the ribs with horrific force. Bones cracked loudly as the blow dashed the barbarian to the ground. The giant rushed up howling and swung again, over-handed and down, and at the last moment the man rolled out of the way. The force of the blow’s impact with the earth thumped in Dera’s chest, and a great cloud of dust kicked up around the combatants. The other warriors harassed the giant’s flanks with their spears, piercing its legs. It roared with displeasure.
From the ledge of a broken hill behind the mountain giant, an undulating cry suddenly broke out, savage and full of battle-lust. Startled, it swung its ponderous head to see what made the noise, and Dera saw its face for the first time: crude, like a caricature of humanity that lacked intelligence or compassion. Standing atop the low summit, flanked by direwolves, stood an immense, thickly muscled barbarian. He wore no armor save a wide leather girdle, thick leather bracers, and a wolf’s head helm that draped over his bulging shoulders. In his right hand he gripped a double-bladed axe, and in his left a long curved knife. He thrust his axe into the sky as he roared, and the eerie wolves snarled and snapped viscously. Ignoring the other men, the creature turned to meet him. Below, the fallen warrior picked himself up, favoring his side, and pointed his spear at the giant.
It took exactly one large step toward the newcomer, and then he flung himself off the shelf. Dera gasped as, weapons flashing in the setting sun, he dove across the space separating him from his enemy. His arc carried him effortlessly through its long, grasping arms and to its torso, where he hacked with savage precision. Two gouts of blood, fiery in the dying light, flew from a jagged pair of wounds on either side of its thick neck. The wolf-headed barbarian kicked away from the giant as it staggered and gripped its wounds with its free hand, trying to stop the escape of its life’s blood. It tried to vocalize, but all that came out was a gurgling cough.
The newcomer landed heavily on the ravine floor just outside the giant’s reach. As the other warriors continued to harass it with their spears, he sprung in under the giant’s guard, turned sideways, and sliced the monster’s inner thighs with uncanny accuracy. Blood sprayed and pumped down its legs, which wobbled and gave out. The giant collapsed to its knees and dropped its tree, propping itself up with its right arm as its left held onto its neck wound tightly. Blood-clotted snot pooled in the dust.
Dera watched breathlessly as Wolf-head, now once again flanked by his direwolves, slowly encircled the fading giant as though he were examining an interesting statue. When he arrived directly behind it he suddenly exploded into motion, running right at the monster. With a mighty leap he scaled its heaving back, ran up to its shoulders and dropped to his knees, sliding forward on sweat-slicked skin. He grabbed its head roughly with a powerful arm and in one motion slit its throat from ear to ear. The giant screamed shrilly through the gash in its throat and died. Wolf-head leapt forward as the body fell, rolling gracefully and ending the movement on his feet.
Several seconds of stunned silence passed among the group, and then Travis said, “Wow.”
Dera stood agape at the display of martial prowess she had just witnessed. The humongous man stood for a moment, his magnificent chest panting from slight exertion, and then he turned and looked directly at her from over a hundred yards away. She flushed, and her heart began to beat furiously.
“Uh-oh,” said Mordecai, “He’s noticed us.”
No, realized Dera as Wolf-head signaled his men and began to stride toward them, he’s noticed me.
At that thought she shivered in equal parts fear and anticipation.
The morning sun lanced through the trees, reflecting off dewy mist and glistening flora. Life chorused throughout the wood elf settlement – earthworms struggled to churn the thick black loam, dogs barked playfully, and everywhere the inhabitants went about their daily lives. Dera breathed deeply, inhaling the vitalizing, rustic world around her. Crisp air filled her lungs; she let it out reluctantly, with a sigh.
Nearby, everyone made ready to depart. Garlok secured his kit, balancing it precariously on his back, Mordecai spoke with Ertan and Lorielle, Falco helped Erak adjust his breastplate, and Travis checked the elf-home to make sure nobody left anything behind. Near Mordecai stood another figure: a slight elven woman with deeply tanned skin, light brown hair that fell to her shoulder blades in many knotted braids, and cool lavender eyes that regarded the adventurers with mild interest. She gripped a tall ashwood staff, and beside her sat a large gray wolf obediently, tongue lolling out of its toothy mouth.
“That’s everything,” said Travis as he exited the home for the final time. Dera’s pulse quickened – what exactly were they about to do?
“Gather ‘round,” declared Mordecai. He gestured at the wolf and said, “Dagys, come.” It loped happily toward him.
Erak raised an eyebrow, “Yours?”
“Just a friend,” answered the druid obliquely. The group had huddled up, much like they did when Mordecai had enabled them to pass without a trace through the forest. The elven druid, introduced to them as Enuesendri, smiled as though she found this amusing. Mordecai glanced at her and announced, “We are ready.”
Next to Dera, Travis whispered, “What exactly are we about to do?”
“No clue,” whispered Falco back. He appeared nervous.
Sensing their unease, Enuesendri stepped closer then, leaning on her staff. When she spoke, her voice reminded Dera of a large river’s slow rush. “Far west of here lies the spine of the Clatspurs, but between here and there you will find a hilly upland hard against the forest. This spell will take you there, if you but fly west.” She began to chant then.
“Wait, what? I don’t…” began Erak. Then Dera felt a strange warm sensation tingling throughout her body, and in an instant of terror the world rushed into huge magnification, like a wizard’s experiment gone haywire. The elves around her loomed like impossible giants viewed through a fish-eye lens, the trees behind them tall as mountains. Alarmed, she gasped, “Chirp! Chirp!”
“Chirp-chirp-chirp!” exclaimed Travis beside her, hopping madly on scaly gray feet. He puffed up in indignation, becoming a round brown ball of feathers. All around her, little sparrows hopped and tweeted chaotically. Dera tilted her left eye far upward to see amused expressions on the faces of the assembled elves. Enuesendri bent low and in a thunderous voice whispered, “FLY NOW.”
Understanding dawned. Experimentally, Dera hopped high and flapped her arms. She zipped upward like a drunken bee to find herself eye to eye with Lorielle, who laughed. Amazed, she stopped flapping and began to fall back to the ground, but the woman caught her gently, cupping her hands. “Chirp-chirp-chirp!” exclaimed Dera with excitement.
From below, she caught the stern voice of Mordecai, “Chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp!” Time to go.
“Who’s the birdbrain now?” came a thought from Tiki, gleefully.
“Chirp-chirp…er, hush, you,” she replied mentally. She could sense his immense amusement.
They thrust into the air with tweets and chirps of farewell, following Mordecai up past the tree line, seven sparrows and one small owl. Buffeted from a northern breeze, they fought west through the air. Below them the majestic Vesve spread as far as they could see, an ocean of green. In places mist obscured the terrain below, and other flocks of birds flew lazily here and there. The world above the canopy resonated with serenity.
After a while, Dera began to feel sad.
“What’s wrong?” came Tiki’s mental voice.
“It’s not the same,” she sighed.
“Oh.” He understood. As small birds they wrestled with every gust of wind, and avoided larger flyers. The Dragon-Dera in her dreams beat the air into submission, ruler of her environment. As birds they…
“…survived at the sky’s mercy,” she finished. She felt a wave of sympathy resonate from Tiki.
They flew west, and the Vesve rolled beneath them like a river.
--
As dusk approached, Mordecai began to spiral downward toward a stubby hill strewn with boulders. Behind them lay the dark expanse of the forest, ahead Dera thought she saw what could be mountains, but right here the land stumbled over itself like a drunken dwarf. More rocks dotted the rough landscape than trees. She felt glad that the flight was over; her shoulders ached with the effort of a day’s sustained effort. Upon touching down, Mordecai’s form swelled and elongated, and feathers rustled and gave way to flesh and clothes. In a dusty voice he croaked, “Change back now. Just imagine yourselves as you truly are.”
She imagined herself as a princess with men falling over themselves trying to impress her. Tiki guffawed mentally. There came a dizzying sensation of motion, then she opened her eyes to discover she stood among the company once again. Most of them collapsed wearily on the earth, stretching sore muscles.
“Modest, aren’t we?”
“Let me have my fantasies,” she quipped.
“We are in the Sepia Uplands,” began Mordecai,” we must be careful, for the Old One’s orcs often foray here for mineral wealth, and there are other dangerous creatures besides.”
We’re exposed up here,” grunted Garlok, “Let’s find a better spot to camp.”
Nobody argued, but several grumbled. It had been a long day. The aching adventurers followed the dwarf down the western slope of the hill. Garlok mumbled to himself as he led them around, sometimes cresting hills alone to survey the countryside, other times leading them through rain-gouged gullies. As the sun began to disappear behind the horizon, a bestial roar pierced the air. Garlok spit, “Whuzzat?”
“Sounds large!” gasped Falco, fatigue apparent in his voice. The party hunkered low against a boulder.
Something made noisy, erratic steps – THOOM, THOOM, THOOM-THOOM – that echoed off the canyon walls and throughout the jagged gullies.
Cowering, they listened. Dera dug Tiki out of her backpack and tossed him into the air. “Go look,” she ordered. Resentfully, he complied. Long seconds passed, then she felt a surge of fear and alarm from her familiar. “What is it?” she urged.
“It’s…it’s…” the owl seemed confused, taken aback.
“Yes?”
“It’s…huge!” he replied, his terror transmitted through their empathic link.
“Tiki sees something really large out there,” warned Dera.
Garlok growled, “A giant, I wager. Nice knowing you folks.”
“Dera, you’ve got to come see this!”
“Tiki, what…”
“The big one is chasing the little ones!” he screeched excitedly.
Dera began to scramble up the nearest hill, her skirts causing her to slip and bang her knees as she scrabbled. She heard alarmed shouts from her companions below her, but she ignored them. If they had been in danger Tiki would never have told her to come look. Panting with exertion, she crested the summit in time to witness an event that would have a profound effect on the rest of her life.
Below her, the peak dropped into a deep, wide gully ringed with broken hills. The ravine ran over a hundred yards long, tapering into a narrow defile at the other end. Sprinting toward the gap where the defile dead-ended were three powerfully built fur-clad barbarians wielding spears and axes. Chasing them and grunting with rage thundered a massive spindly-armed giant, nearly twenty feet tall. Clad only in a filthy loincloth, the creature brandished a small tree it had apparently uprooted to use as a club. A bald pate stood out from a filthy ring of hair across its wide oblong skull; it ran flat-footed, huge belly flopping grotesquely. Dera could hear it panting heavily, as though out of breath.
Behind her, she vaguely registered swearing and grunting as the rest of the party climbed up the slope. She ignored them, captivated by the scene in the gully. From her vantage point she could tell that the barbarians were trapped; there appeared to be no way out save past the giant. She thought of trying to warn them, but they were too far away to hear her shout, and it would make no difference anyway. They tried to scramble up the defile only to discover the steep, impossible climb. Only then did they turn around to face the monster, spreading out in a hopeless attempt to counter its great reach. It roared then in victory, smashing its club several times into the hard-packed earth. Dera, watching helplessly, felt the teeth rattle in her head. She felt awed and appalled by the monster’s unearthly strength.
“Should…” she heard Falco say tentatively as he struggled for breath, “should we try to help?”
“There’s a mountain giant, reverend. We could do naught but join them in death,” whispered Garlok from beside her.
“We have to do something…” but the priest didn’t move.
“Brave men,” muttered Garlok sadly, “brave men.”
The giant charged the left-most warrior, swinging its tree in a wide over-head arc first left, then right. Air whooshed past the man as he ducked and rolled under the first blow, but the backhand swing caught him on the ribs with horrific force. Bones cracked loudly as the blow dashed the barbarian to the ground. The giant rushed up howling and swung again, over-handed and down, and at the last moment the man rolled out of the way. The force of the blow’s impact with the earth thumped in Dera’s chest, and a great cloud of dust kicked up around the combatants. The other warriors harassed the giant’s flanks with their spears, piercing its legs. It roared with displeasure.
From the ledge of a broken hill behind the mountain giant, an undulating cry suddenly broke out, savage and full of battle-lust. Startled, it swung its ponderous head to see what made the noise, and Dera saw its face for the first time: crude, like a caricature of humanity that lacked intelligence or compassion. Standing atop the low summit, flanked by direwolves, stood an immense, thickly muscled barbarian. He wore no armor save a wide leather girdle, thick leather bracers, and a wolf’s head helm that draped over his bulging shoulders. In his right hand he gripped a double-bladed axe, and in his left a long curved knife. He thrust his axe into the sky as he roared, and the eerie wolves snarled and snapped viscously. Ignoring the other men, the creature turned to meet him. Below, the fallen warrior picked himself up, favoring his side, and pointed his spear at the giant.
It took exactly one large step toward the newcomer, and then he flung himself off the shelf. Dera gasped as, weapons flashing in the setting sun, he dove across the space separating him from his enemy. His arc carried him effortlessly through its long, grasping arms and to its torso, where he hacked with savage precision. Two gouts of blood, fiery in the dying light, flew from a jagged pair of wounds on either side of its thick neck. The wolf-headed barbarian kicked away from the giant as it staggered and gripped its wounds with its free hand, trying to stop the escape of its life’s blood. It tried to vocalize, but all that came out was a gurgling cough.
The newcomer landed heavily on the ravine floor just outside the giant’s reach. As the other warriors continued to harass it with their spears, he sprung in under the giant’s guard, turned sideways, and sliced the monster’s inner thighs with uncanny accuracy. Blood sprayed and pumped down its legs, which wobbled and gave out. The giant collapsed to its knees and dropped its tree, propping itself up with its right arm as its left held onto its neck wound tightly. Blood-clotted snot pooled in the dust.
Dera watched breathlessly as Wolf-head, now once again flanked by his direwolves, slowly encircled the fading giant as though he were examining an interesting statue. When he arrived directly behind it he suddenly exploded into motion, running right at the monster. With a mighty leap he scaled its heaving back, ran up to its shoulders and dropped to his knees, sliding forward on sweat-slicked skin. He grabbed its head roughly with a powerful arm and in one motion slit its throat from ear to ear. The giant screamed shrilly through the gash in its throat and died. Wolf-head leapt forward as the body fell, rolling gracefully and ending the movement on his feet.
Several seconds of stunned silence passed among the group, and then Travis said, “Wow.”
Dera stood agape at the display of martial prowess she had just witnessed. The humongous man stood for a moment, his magnificent chest panting from slight exertion, and then he turned and looked directly at her from over a hundred yards away. She flushed, and her heart began to beat furiously.
“Uh-oh,” said Mordecai, “He’s noticed us.”
No, realized Dera as Wolf-head signaled his men and began to stride toward them, he’s noticed me.
At that thought she shivered in equal parts fear and anticipation.
ForceUser
Explorer
-Travis-
Travis studied the barbarian with keen interest masked by a veil of casual indifference. The man was impossibly large for a human – a V-shaped dynamo well over six feet tall and bulging with sharply defined musculature. He possessed the taut poise of a predator and an admirable economy of motion. His sun-darkened skin glistened in the reflected firelight off the campfire, and Travis watched in envy as the man’s grossly engorged pectoral muscles twitched reflexively. He blinked and shook his head, then stretched elaborately and placed himself squarely behind the dwarf from the barbarians. If it came to violence he would abandon his companions without hesitation. Their deaths would spare him several seconds of pursuit, perhaps long enough to get away and hide.
Erak sat nearest the barbarians, translating from their broken dialect of Baklunish. The wolf-headed leader spoke rapidly, punctuating his words with sharp, cutting gestures. His hungry gaze rarely left Dera, who played the role of shrinking violet beside Garlok. His blatant desire obviously sat at odds with the priest’s sense of propriety, but thus far Falco had wisely let the insult go unchallenged. These were powerful, savage men. Behind their leader, the warriors stood stoically, their hands never far from their weapons.
Erak nodded twice rapidly, then gestured at the barbarian leader and said, “This is Mok’Tuge. I think he’s some sort of chief among his people. These men are Wolf Nomads, down from the northern steppes. They are hunting giants for-for tawri’i.” He stumbled over the unfamiliar pronunciation. “For sport, I think.”
Falco blanched.
The man thumped his chest, “Mok’Tuge.” Then he beckoned to Dera and spat a saw-toothed string of syllables. The sorceress shrunk into her cloak, but Travis noted the look of excitement in her eyes. Not often she met a man who intimidated her, he imagined.
She glanced at Erak, then back to Mok’Tuge. “What did he say?”
“Er,” he hedged, “I think I’m losing something in the translation. They use a very rough form.”
The barbarian looked at the both of them, pointed at his chest, then at Dera. He patted the earth next to him and pointed at her again.
“No translation required,” quipped Mordecai.
Dera persisted pertly. “What did he say?”
Erak blushed, “Well, um, he says you have good child-bearing hips.”
Travis laughed aloud. Mok’Tuge grinned at him, eyes twinkling as if to say, “Yes, I see you back there, little man.” Travis felt his mirth drain away.
He’s harmless, soothed Fib, his psicrystal. The stone began to hum merrily in his head.
“Ask him if he knows of the place we seek,” rumbled Garlok from the bottom of his wineskin. Elf-wine ran in rivulets down his natty beard.
Erak spoke to Mok’Tuge, but the barbarian waved him off and beckoned Dera once again. She wavered, half-rising. He smiled at her confidently.
“Dera! Don’t encourage him,” admonished Falco. Travis watched it in her eyes then – indecision pushed aside by her innate contrariness. She walked around the fire and made to sit next to the Wolf Nomad. But he said “Uht!” and gestured for her to halt. He rose with a fluidity that belied his bulk, then unraveled a thick bearskin and laid it at her feet. Smiling tentatively, she sat. He clapped his hands and grinned broadly all around, and his men whistled and laughed. Something of significance just occurred, Travis realized. One look at Erak confirmed it; the sellsword appeared nervous.
Perceptively, Mordecai addressed Erak, “What just happened?”
“I-I believe she has consented to be courted,” Erak said, brows furrowing as he listened to the warriors chatter back and forth. The druid raised an eyebrow, the dwarf guffawed, and the sun priest shook his head in dismay. Travis considered the implications.
“We can use this,” he suggested.
“I beg your pardon?” exclaimed Dera.
“We need to find this nameless dwarfhold in the Clatspurs. These savages know the terrain. They could lead us, if persuaded.”
“What are you suggesting?” she demanded hotly. Upon hearing her tone, Mok’Tuge dropped a hand to his axe and glared at Travis.
“Dera, have a care,” said Falco quietly, nodding at the tensed warrior. She glanced at him and said “No, it’s okay…Erak, tell him we’re just arguing.” He did.
“He says that he will cut out the tongue of any man who displeases you with words,” translated Erak, wide-eyed.
“Oh,” she replied, looking taken aback.
Travis shrugged in a deliberate expression of nonchalance and said, “Just ask him if he knows where it is.”
Erak and Mok’Tuge spoke at length, and then the sellsword declared, “He has seen a great cave of worked stone in the mountains, but there are many durr’k – I think he means goblins, or maybe orcs – between there and here.”
“Can he lead us to it?” asked Mordecai. Again Erak conferred with the barbarian.
“He says he can.”
“When can we go?”
Erak asked. “He says he can lead us in the morning, but tonight they hunt to prepare a feast in honor of the – err - new couple.”
Disapprovingly, Falco said, “It’s rather late. What does one hunt at night?”
“Dire bears, apparently.”
Travis suppressed a shudder.
“Sounds like fun!” chirped Fib.
--
The next morning, greasy bear meat still roiling in their stomachs, the group headed west after Mok’Tuge and his hunters. The barbarians set an easy pace in deference to Dera, who strode next to her new suitor, appearing quite flattered by the attention. The rest of the party trailed behind. Ranging far ahead was the pair of direwolves, and Mordecai kept his own wolf Dagys close. The poor thing was as a pup compared to its larger cousins and seemed to resent it.
All of that day and the next they walked. They left behind the uplands on the second day, winding their way high into the craggy mountains. At least once the direwolves ran across a band of humanoids – goblins – and scattered them before the adventurers could arrive. Several other times the barbarian hunters reported large bands of orcs and the occasional hill giant, which Mok’Tuge deftly steered the party around. The journey was tense and tiring, and Travis began to long for the comforts of a good tavern and an accommodating lady. He wasn’t cut out for this “trekking through the wilderness” crap.
“You’re a real trooper!” encouraged Fib.
At camp the night of the second day, Mok’Tuge announced that he and his men would be leaving.
“In the morning,” translated Erak, “We must go home. Will Dera come with me and be my woman?”
“Tell him I can’t, Erak,” smiled Dera, “I have to go with my companions.”
Mok’Tuge swelled with satisfaction. “It is as I thought,” continued Erak, “You are no goat-wife who meekly follows her husband. Go with your friends; I will find you later if you wish it.”
“Well, I guess,” she offered cautiously.
Erak studied her. “You want me to translate “I guess?”
She shrugged nervously.
Mok’Tuge listened to Erak, then inhaled and considered. “Do you not want to be my woman?”
And there it is, thought Travis, who expected her to hedge some more.
Dera looked at the barbarian shyly, “You’re nice, but…this is all so fast! Can we…can we not know each other a little better?”
When Erak translated, Mok’Tuge seemed to deflate. “Do you not wish me to court you?”
“No! I mean – yes. If you want.”
“Is that a no or a yes, Dera?” asked Erak. Mok’Tuge watched the exchange.
“It’s a yes.”
“Okay.” He turned to Mok’Tuge.
“I mean, I think.”
Erak paused, mouth open to translate. He looked at her and waited.
Sit bit her lip and nodded. He translated. Mok’Tuge replied, looking at her, his eyes glittering and unreadable. Erak spoke again, and the two conversed at length. Finally Mok’Tuge stood up and began collecting his things.
“What?” asked Dera with a note of concern.
“He says that he does not want you to do what your heart does not desire. He will go now instead of tomorrow and find you later. You can have all the moons between now and then to decide if you want him.” Erak stood up and said something to the barbarians. They waved at him and Mok’Tuge slapped his shoulder. He pointed into the darkness and spoke to Erak, spared Dera a final glance, and faded into the night.
“I think you hurt his feelings,” observed Travis sardonically. Dera shot him a venomous glance, then stood up and stalked off into the dark after Mok’Tuge.
Erak cleared his throat. “He said we’re close to the spot he knows. We should look for a stone stair cutting up an otherwise impassible cleft. I think it’s about a mile away, maybe less.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” said Mordecai.
Dera came back a few minutes later looking preoccupied. Nobody said anything to her about Mok’Tuge, really, what was the point? The man now had an inkling of what she was like; if he still wanted to pursue her Travis wished him good fortune. The others set watches and he settled down to sleep.
The next morning they got up, prepared spells and powers, and set out to find the stone stair. It turned out to be tough to miss – they found the cleft in the mountainside, at the bottom of which lay a deep shadowy ravine. On the face of the near side began the stair, a massive work of wrought stone worn smooth by the passage of time. It was dirty and rock-strewn, but no cracks or breaks marred its surface, nor any weeds or upthrust plants. Even with untrained eyes, Travis recognized superior craftsmanship. Had he been blind, he still couldn’t have missed the dwarf’s exclamation of “Aha!” as he ran forward on stubby legs to squat before the first step. He caressed the masonry as though it were a precious gemstone.
“This is it!” said Garlok, master of the obvious.
“Very nice,” replied Mordecai. They began to trudge up. Out of boredom, Travis counted the steps. Around six hundred and twelve he decided “screw it,” being too busy worrying about the pain in his chest and the fire in his legs. Eventually they came to a plateau cut flat to exacting standards by ancient dwarven masons. The priest prayed while the rest of them sat down heavily.
A speck appeared in the air from the direction ahead, getting closer. Travis nudged Erak, sat up, and observed more closely. They started getting antsy, but it swooped down and revealed itself to be Dera’s stupid familiar. He let out a ragged breath and relaxed.
“Tiki says there’s a building up around the bend,” reported Dera.
“What kind of building?” asked Erak.
She shrugged, “He doesn’t know. He says it is tall and skinny.”
“Sounds like a tower,” suggested Mordecai. “Can he tell us anything else?”
She paused a moment, betraying an inner conversation. “He says there might be people in it. He might have seen something moving around inside.”
“Right,” said Garlok, “Maybe its dwarves come back to claim their hall.”
Travis had to refrain from rolling his eyes.
When Falco finished preparing spells they moved on, alert to possible danger. Half an hour of painful trudging later, the curving slope of the mountainside revealed a squat stone tower in disrepair. It sat on a similar flat to the one upon which they’d rested. As they closed on it, something stirred atop the crenellations. Travis began to focus his mind for combat, but a dwarf-helm popped out from between the stonework, followed by a crossbow. Garlok said “Aha!” and waved, but the dwarf didn’t wave back. He appeared to regard the party for a moment, then he disappeared behind the defensive structure.
“Friendly sorts,” said Erak.
“They’re just being cautious,” Garlok replied sagely, “This mountain’s crawling with nasties. I’ll go talk with ‘em.”
Travis was unconvinced, but just then a dwarf stepped out of the shadow of the tower and waved. From this distant vantage he appeared old, with a long gray beard poking out from beneath a big helm. He wore scale mail but carried no shield or weapon. He shouted something in dwarvish, and Garlok responded. The old dwarf shouted again, Garlok replied again, and then the other dwarf beckoned them and went back inside the tower. Garlok stepped forward.
“Wait,” said Falco, “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t speak dwarven, do you?” asked Garlok.
“No, but I have trained in the art of diplomacy. I might be of some use.”
Garlok shrugged. “Suit yerself.”
The two of them struck out for the tower door. Shortly afterward, all hell broke loose.
Travis studied the barbarian with keen interest masked by a veil of casual indifference. The man was impossibly large for a human – a V-shaped dynamo well over six feet tall and bulging with sharply defined musculature. He possessed the taut poise of a predator and an admirable economy of motion. His sun-darkened skin glistened in the reflected firelight off the campfire, and Travis watched in envy as the man’s grossly engorged pectoral muscles twitched reflexively. He blinked and shook his head, then stretched elaborately and placed himself squarely behind the dwarf from the barbarians. If it came to violence he would abandon his companions without hesitation. Their deaths would spare him several seconds of pursuit, perhaps long enough to get away and hide.
Erak sat nearest the barbarians, translating from their broken dialect of Baklunish. The wolf-headed leader spoke rapidly, punctuating his words with sharp, cutting gestures. His hungry gaze rarely left Dera, who played the role of shrinking violet beside Garlok. His blatant desire obviously sat at odds with the priest’s sense of propriety, but thus far Falco had wisely let the insult go unchallenged. These were powerful, savage men. Behind their leader, the warriors stood stoically, their hands never far from their weapons.
Erak nodded twice rapidly, then gestured at the barbarian leader and said, “This is Mok’Tuge. I think he’s some sort of chief among his people. These men are Wolf Nomads, down from the northern steppes. They are hunting giants for-for tawri’i.” He stumbled over the unfamiliar pronunciation. “For sport, I think.”
Falco blanched.
The man thumped his chest, “Mok’Tuge.” Then he beckoned to Dera and spat a saw-toothed string of syllables. The sorceress shrunk into her cloak, but Travis noted the look of excitement in her eyes. Not often she met a man who intimidated her, he imagined.
She glanced at Erak, then back to Mok’Tuge. “What did he say?”
“Er,” he hedged, “I think I’m losing something in the translation. They use a very rough form.”
The barbarian looked at the both of them, pointed at his chest, then at Dera. He patted the earth next to him and pointed at her again.
“No translation required,” quipped Mordecai.
Dera persisted pertly. “What did he say?”
Erak blushed, “Well, um, he says you have good child-bearing hips.”
Travis laughed aloud. Mok’Tuge grinned at him, eyes twinkling as if to say, “Yes, I see you back there, little man.” Travis felt his mirth drain away.
He’s harmless, soothed Fib, his psicrystal. The stone began to hum merrily in his head.
“Ask him if he knows of the place we seek,” rumbled Garlok from the bottom of his wineskin. Elf-wine ran in rivulets down his natty beard.
Erak spoke to Mok’Tuge, but the barbarian waved him off and beckoned Dera once again. She wavered, half-rising. He smiled at her confidently.
“Dera! Don’t encourage him,” admonished Falco. Travis watched it in her eyes then – indecision pushed aside by her innate contrariness. She walked around the fire and made to sit next to the Wolf Nomad. But he said “Uht!” and gestured for her to halt. He rose with a fluidity that belied his bulk, then unraveled a thick bearskin and laid it at her feet. Smiling tentatively, she sat. He clapped his hands and grinned broadly all around, and his men whistled and laughed. Something of significance just occurred, Travis realized. One look at Erak confirmed it; the sellsword appeared nervous.
Perceptively, Mordecai addressed Erak, “What just happened?”
“I-I believe she has consented to be courted,” Erak said, brows furrowing as he listened to the warriors chatter back and forth. The druid raised an eyebrow, the dwarf guffawed, and the sun priest shook his head in dismay. Travis considered the implications.
“We can use this,” he suggested.
“I beg your pardon?” exclaimed Dera.
“We need to find this nameless dwarfhold in the Clatspurs. These savages know the terrain. They could lead us, if persuaded.”
“What are you suggesting?” she demanded hotly. Upon hearing her tone, Mok’Tuge dropped a hand to his axe and glared at Travis.
“Dera, have a care,” said Falco quietly, nodding at the tensed warrior. She glanced at him and said “No, it’s okay…Erak, tell him we’re just arguing.” He did.
“He says that he will cut out the tongue of any man who displeases you with words,” translated Erak, wide-eyed.
“Oh,” she replied, looking taken aback.
Travis shrugged in a deliberate expression of nonchalance and said, “Just ask him if he knows where it is.”
Erak and Mok’Tuge spoke at length, and then the sellsword declared, “He has seen a great cave of worked stone in the mountains, but there are many durr’k – I think he means goblins, or maybe orcs – between there and here.”
“Can he lead us to it?” asked Mordecai. Again Erak conferred with the barbarian.
“He says he can.”
“When can we go?”
Erak asked. “He says he can lead us in the morning, but tonight they hunt to prepare a feast in honor of the – err - new couple.”
Disapprovingly, Falco said, “It’s rather late. What does one hunt at night?”
“Dire bears, apparently.”
Travis suppressed a shudder.
“Sounds like fun!” chirped Fib.
--
The next morning, greasy bear meat still roiling in their stomachs, the group headed west after Mok’Tuge and his hunters. The barbarians set an easy pace in deference to Dera, who strode next to her new suitor, appearing quite flattered by the attention. The rest of the party trailed behind. Ranging far ahead was the pair of direwolves, and Mordecai kept his own wolf Dagys close. The poor thing was as a pup compared to its larger cousins and seemed to resent it.
All of that day and the next they walked. They left behind the uplands on the second day, winding their way high into the craggy mountains. At least once the direwolves ran across a band of humanoids – goblins – and scattered them before the adventurers could arrive. Several other times the barbarian hunters reported large bands of orcs and the occasional hill giant, which Mok’Tuge deftly steered the party around. The journey was tense and tiring, and Travis began to long for the comforts of a good tavern and an accommodating lady. He wasn’t cut out for this “trekking through the wilderness” crap.
“You’re a real trooper!” encouraged Fib.
At camp the night of the second day, Mok’Tuge announced that he and his men would be leaving.
“In the morning,” translated Erak, “We must go home. Will Dera come with me and be my woman?”
“Tell him I can’t, Erak,” smiled Dera, “I have to go with my companions.”
Mok’Tuge swelled with satisfaction. “It is as I thought,” continued Erak, “You are no goat-wife who meekly follows her husband. Go with your friends; I will find you later if you wish it.”
“Well, I guess,” she offered cautiously.
Erak studied her. “You want me to translate “I guess?”
She shrugged nervously.
Mok’Tuge listened to Erak, then inhaled and considered. “Do you not want to be my woman?”
And there it is, thought Travis, who expected her to hedge some more.
Dera looked at the barbarian shyly, “You’re nice, but…this is all so fast! Can we…can we not know each other a little better?”
When Erak translated, Mok’Tuge seemed to deflate. “Do you not wish me to court you?”
“No! I mean – yes. If you want.”
“Is that a no or a yes, Dera?” asked Erak. Mok’Tuge watched the exchange.
“It’s a yes.”
“Okay.” He turned to Mok’Tuge.
“I mean, I think.”
Erak paused, mouth open to translate. He looked at her and waited.
Sit bit her lip and nodded. He translated. Mok’Tuge replied, looking at her, his eyes glittering and unreadable. Erak spoke again, and the two conversed at length. Finally Mok’Tuge stood up and began collecting his things.
“What?” asked Dera with a note of concern.
“He says that he does not want you to do what your heart does not desire. He will go now instead of tomorrow and find you later. You can have all the moons between now and then to decide if you want him.” Erak stood up and said something to the barbarians. They waved at him and Mok’Tuge slapped his shoulder. He pointed into the darkness and spoke to Erak, spared Dera a final glance, and faded into the night.
“I think you hurt his feelings,” observed Travis sardonically. Dera shot him a venomous glance, then stood up and stalked off into the dark after Mok’Tuge.
Erak cleared his throat. “He said we’re close to the spot he knows. We should look for a stone stair cutting up an otherwise impassible cleft. I think it’s about a mile away, maybe less.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” said Mordecai.
Dera came back a few minutes later looking preoccupied. Nobody said anything to her about Mok’Tuge, really, what was the point? The man now had an inkling of what she was like; if he still wanted to pursue her Travis wished him good fortune. The others set watches and he settled down to sleep.
The next morning they got up, prepared spells and powers, and set out to find the stone stair. It turned out to be tough to miss – they found the cleft in the mountainside, at the bottom of which lay a deep shadowy ravine. On the face of the near side began the stair, a massive work of wrought stone worn smooth by the passage of time. It was dirty and rock-strewn, but no cracks or breaks marred its surface, nor any weeds or upthrust plants. Even with untrained eyes, Travis recognized superior craftsmanship. Had he been blind, he still couldn’t have missed the dwarf’s exclamation of “Aha!” as he ran forward on stubby legs to squat before the first step. He caressed the masonry as though it were a precious gemstone.
“This is it!” said Garlok, master of the obvious.
“Very nice,” replied Mordecai. They began to trudge up. Out of boredom, Travis counted the steps. Around six hundred and twelve he decided “screw it,” being too busy worrying about the pain in his chest and the fire in his legs. Eventually they came to a plateau cut flat to exacting standards by ancient dwarven masons. The priest prayed while the rest of them sat down heavily.
A speck appeared in the air from the direction ahead, getting closer. Travis nudged Erak, sat up, and observed more closely. They started getting antsy, but it swooped down and revealed itself to be Dera’s stupid familiar. He let out a ragged breath and relaxed.
“Tiki says there’s a building up around the bend,” reported Dera.
“What kind of building?” asked Erak.
She shrugged, “He doesn’t know. He says it is tall and skinny.”
“Sounds like a tower,” suggested Mordecai. “Can he tell us anything else?”
She paused a moment, betraying an inner conversation. “He says there might be people in it. He might have seen something moving around inside.”
“Right,” said Garlok, “Maybe its dwarves come back to claim their hall.”
Travis had to refrain from rolling his eyes.
When Falco finished preparing spells they moved on, alert to possible danger. Half an hour of painful trudging later, the curving slope of the mountainside revealed a squat stone tower in disrepair. It sat on a similar flat to the one upon which they’d rested. As they closed on it, something stirred atop the crenellations. Travis began to focus his mind for combat, but a dwarf-helm popped out from between the stonework, followed by a crossbow. Garlok said “Aha!” and waved, but the dwarf didn’t wave back. He appeared to regard the party for a moment, then he disappeared behind the defensive structure.
“Friendly sorts,” said Erak.
“They’re just being cautious,” Garlok replied sagely, “This mountain’s crawling with nasties. I’ll go talk with ‘em.”
Travis was unconvinced, but just then a dwarf stepped out of the shadow of the tower and waved. From this distant vantage he appeared old, with a long gray beard poking out from beneath a big helm. He wore scale mail but carried no shield or weapon. He shouted something in dwarvish, and Garlok responded. The old dwarf shouted again, Garlok replied again, and then the other dwarf beckoned them and went back inside the tower. Garlok stepped forward.
“Wait,” said Falco, “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t speak dwarven, do you?” asked Garlok.
“No, but I have trained in the art of diplomacy. I might be of some use.”
Garlok shrugged. “Suit yerself.”
The two of them struck out for the tower door. Shortly afterward, all hell broke loose.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
BUMP!
'cuz you can't leave cliffhangers like that for more than 3 days!
'cuz you can't leave cliffhangers like that for more than 3 days!
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