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Message: <blockquote data-quote="ForceUser" data-source="post: 941321" data-attributes="member: 2785">-Erak-The party walked for days under a canopy of massive oaks, elderberry, ash, and maple. Dim strands of light filtered down to the mulch-strewn forest floor, and many times they stumbled on gnarly roots lurking like goblins under the leafy terrain.  Erak, in particular, felt increasingly anxious at the foreboding gloom surrounding them like a veil. Okay, go hack down some trees, sure, everybody’s got to have wood. But live here? What kind of nut lives in the depths of a forest?He spied Mordecai passing smoothly through a knot of ferns. Oh yeah. Behind nature-boy, Travis swore as he tripped and banged a knee on a rock obscured by the fan-shaped plants. Mordecai threw a look at the…well, whatever Travis was, as if to say “You dare hurt the plants?” Travis stood up and winced as he straightened his leg.Erak slapped at a fly and ducked a misty puff of gnats that whirled erratically in front of his face. This was absurd. What were they doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Saving the world from Iuz? Delorn was off his rocker if he thought Aelic’s little plan was remotely coherent. There were a lot of gaps in his carefully scripted story. But hey, the pay was good, so whatever. And after a day of hard trekking through this misbegotten forest, he hardly dreamt. Always a bonus.After an interminable amount of time spent sweating and climbing hidden gullies and tree-lined switchbacks, the priest Falco called a halt so he could beg for his daily spells. Thank you, sun god. Erak groaned as he slowly slid down against a mossy oak to rest his legs. His mithril breastplate dug painfully into his left side, so he leaned forward and adjusted it. Then he spent several minutes in the diluted daylight carefully inspecting the armor – he found no less than four scratches, three dings, and a layer of grime than dulled the sheen. Obsessively, he took out a special wool cloth and began the familiar ritual of cleaning and polishing. Sadly, the dings would have to be pounded out the next time he passed an armorsmith. He caressed the mithril like one might stroke a favorite pet. Left circle. Right circle. Left circle. Right circle. Even here under all these trees, the metal shined softly. It fascinated him. Finishing up, he noticed that Falco was still praying. He dug into his backpack and pulled out a square leather tome locked with a silver clasp. Ornate symbology graced its cover. He unlocked the book and lost himself in study. Several minutes passed in blissful seclusion, then a plop sounded from beside him and a gruff voice intruded. “Whadda ya readin’?” Erak glanced up. “My spellbook.”“Yer a wizard?” asked Garlok.Still trying to read, Erak nodded absently.“Then what’s with the hand-and-a-half?”Exasperated, Erak looked up from the book. “I am trained in its use.”Garlok eyed him skeptically. “Never known a wizard to be any good with a blade.”“I manage.”“Hrmm,” replied the dwarf. “Are you as good as Dera?”“She’s not a wizard.”Garlok wiggled his thick fingers in a clumsy imitation of spellcasting, “Same thing.”“Not really. Wizards prepare their spells based on arcane formulae that they spend years learning to properly execute. Sorcerers, however, have some sort of spiritual connection to magic that comes from within. It’s been rumored that some of them have draconic ancestry. What’s really interesting about sorcerers when compared to wizards, however, is…” Erak had begun to warm to the conversation but stopped when Garlok started scratching his crotch with one hand and holding up his empty wineskin with the other. The dwarf was eyeballing the flaccid bag wistfully. When Erak stopped talking Garlok noticed. “Sorry, what were ya sayin’?”“Forget it.”--Later, they found tracks in the loam. Garlok was on all fours in the dirt, carefully examining them. Erak hadn’t figured the hard-bitten dwarf for a woodsman. It made him seem oddly canny. “Troll piss,” Garlok swore.“Trolls?” asked the cleric, alarmed. Erak shared the sentiment.“Worse. Hill giants. And they’ve got orcs with ‘em.” He stood up and paced around an imaginary perimeter. “See here, look at this. Four sets, one thumb deep…three hands wide. Barefoot, thick soles. This one’s probably the leader. See? The biggest one always leads.” The dwarf seemed to know what he was talking about. All Erak saw was dirt and dead leaves, but then, it was getting dark.  The trees were gray shapes on black. Between the branches overhead, the sky was gradually deepening to indigo. They had been seeking a good spot to camp when they found the tracks. Garlok continued, “’Bout a dozen orcs.”Mordecai looked thoughtful. “Are they traveling at night?” How could he be so calm! Erak had never seen a hill giant, but the way Garlok casually referred to their size made him shudder with apprehension. They sounded big. Really big. “I reckon so. Giants can see in the dark as well as any orc. Hard to say, but I’d guess these tracks’re recent. Day at most.” Mordecai nodded. “They’ll have their own trackers.”“Yeah. The trail’s goin’ northwest from here. We can cut east, then head north again once we pass this flat. Doubt they’ll backtrack, unless they’re just looking for trouble.”“I don’t want to risk it,” the druid responded. He dug into a pouch on his hip. “Everyone come close to me,” he said. They huddled up. Mordecai closed his eyes, stretched his arms over his head and breathed a word: ”elshanlidel.” Then he touched everyone on the forehead, one at a time, pressing the knuckles and thumb of his left hand against their skin. In his right he held a twig. When the druid touched Erak he expected to feel something mystical, and was a bit disappointed when he didn’t. He had reflexively closed his eyes during the ritual; he opened them once he realized it. Garlok was grinning. “We all druids now?”“For a time,” came the reply. “Let’s go. If they find our tracks they’ll wonder why they stop so abruptly. It won’t take them long to fan out.” Late in the night, miles away from where they stumbled across the humanoid trail, they settled into a quiet unlit camp amid a crowded thicket of old ash. Uncomfortable in the humid warmth of the summer evening, Erak laid out his kit over the hard earth and sat down to dig for a biscuit. Beside him Dera lay fast asleep. In the tree above her he saw the eerie eyes of her familiar glinting in the filtered moonlight, watching. “Shoo,” he whispered. The owl ignored him. Garlok stood the midwatch, and quietly woke Erak in the deep of the night. “Your turn,” he grunted. Erak rubbed sleep from his eyes. Had he been dreaming? Familiar, horrific imagery flittered at the edges of his consciousness and dispersed before he could grasp their meaning. Beneath his breastplate he was slick with perspiration.“I’m up,” he whispered. The dwarf nodded and returned to his post on a smooth, low rock. Erak sat up with difficulty, then reached for his waterskin. Wet coolness slid down his throat and he drank rapidly. He always awoke thirsty. He relieved himself, then grabbed his bastard sword and shield and approached the dwarf-shaped shadow across camp. Garlok said, “Hush, now,” and held up a hand.“What?” said Erak lowly. “Just listen.”The warrior-mage stood in the dark for several minutes, straining to hear whatever it was. He heard crickets chirping softly, slow winds rustling leaves, the creak of shifting trees…and from somewhere far away, the faint sound of savage drums. “They found our tracks.”“Yeah.”“What now?” Erak’s palm was slick on the pommel of his sword. “Now,” replied the dwarf, hopping off the rock, “I get some sleep.”“That’s it?”“They won’t find us tonight unless they have a shaman with ‘em.”“What if they do?”“Then we’re screwed. G’night.”Erak sat quietly for the duration of his watch.</blockquote>

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