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Story Hour
In the Valus - The Heroes of Marchford (Chapter 14 Continues - 12/24/08)
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<blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 1704949" data-attributes="member: 22792"><p><strong>Chapter 2</strong></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Dawn on the second day of Gal was greeted with overcast skies and a chilling breeze. It would be a dreary day in the Northern Valus. Sir Eddam and Captain Wallach were standing beside four unknown men. One wore the garb of a cleric and busied himself on an inspection of the creature. Another of the four was a halfling, dressed in a worn cloak. As the stifling morning breeze broke across the plains, brushing the halfling’s cloak away, eight obviously used daggers dangled in the halfling’s belt.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Right on time,” Eddam spoke. “These two guards will accompany you as far as they can. And we have supplied a mule per your request. Now, if you’ll excuse the captain and myself, we have other business to attend.” </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Let’s get goin’” grunted one of the guards.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“No, not yet,” the cleric spoke. He stood from his crouched spot and brushed some dirt off his clothing. “I am Fitz, devotee of Ceria and this is Raven. We have also volunteered for this task.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Let’s go.” Grunted the same guard, obviously agitated.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“This beast was not slain with a sword as first thought,” Fitz continued. “These wounds are slightly small for a bladed weapon. They look more like arrow wounds to my untrained eye.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Motega bent over the carapace of the creature. “He’s right. But where did the arrows go?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Or better yet, why were they removed?” chimed in Ember.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Nimrodel strode over to the annoyed guard and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Where’d the arrows go?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“For Morduk’s sake, why does that matter?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Oh, just tell them Thom, so we can get going,” whined the previously silent guard.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Thom grunted and gestured to a bush on the edge of the plain. Brushing the vegetation to the side, Motega uncovered two snapped arrows. There was nothing distinct about the arrows, except for their lack of quality. Then he inspected the creature’s tracks.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Why were the arrows removed?” Motega glared at Thom.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Look, the boy Rorik must have removed them. They weren’t noticed until after the meeting last night. It’s unimportant anyway, right?” </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“The tracks lead north toward the forest,” Motega stated. “We should get started. I don’t think there’s anything else to see here.” He pivoted and took off toward the forest.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Finally,” Tom bellowed and moved to keep up with Motega.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">***************************************************************</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">One half hour into the trek, the two guards halted.</span></span></p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“What’s wrong?” Funeris questioned.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Well, we should be heading back.” Thom looked toward the other guard. “The edge of our patrol ends here,” he pointed vaguely toward the scarce brush. “Right, Rodoc?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Uh, yeah, that’s right. Our patrol ends here. Let’s go, Thom.” The two guards turned and nearly sprinted back toward the village.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Cowards,” Nimrodel accused but the guards were already out of earshot. <em>Never in all her life, had she seen such spineless men. On second thought, maybe one or two. If she dwelled ont it too long, though, she might be forced to teach them a lesson.</em> So, she brushed her anger aside.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“So, should we be looking for these creatures?” Funeris asked, peering behind the party at the obnoxiously loud guards.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“That’s probably not necessary,” Motega replied. “Scorpiots are a subterranean race. I doubt we’ll see any in these woods.” He kneeled and studied the tracks again. “I’d worry more about who or what killed the one near town. It obviously wasn’t any of the guards.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Suddenly, Nimrodel cocked her head to the side and drew her axe. Motega turned toward the direction of the tracks and paused, reaching for an arrow.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“What is it?” Ember hissed, laying a hand on his javelin.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I heard a woman’s voice,” Nimrodel whispered back.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“As did I. Maybe 200 yards ahead of us. If that.” Motega added.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The scorpiot’s tracks ended in a dense patch of vegetation only 150 yards further. Motega stopped and silently slid into the brush, disappearing momentarily. When he peeked back through the bushes, he whispered, “there’s a clearing. Follow me, we’re going to edge around it.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Cautiously, they circled the clearing, again heading toward the north. Motega raised his hand to halt the party. Then gestured to the party to be silent.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“<em>I could’ve sworn I heard something</em>,” a voice whispered.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“<em>You’re just paranoid</em>.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“<em>No. It sounded like something was coming from the town</em>.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“<em>No one comes from the town, you dolt</em>.” </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Perched in a group of trees in the clearing, three archers faced the path they had just left. All three archers had arrows nocked, and were listening intently.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“You there! In the trees! We've come not to slay you” bellowed Nimrodel. The archers spun in their trees, nearly losing their footing. “We want only information. Attack us and you <strong><em>will</em></strong> reap what you sow.“ <em>thwick --</em>an arrow sped past Nimrodel. She dived behind a nearby tree.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Motega and Funeris unloosed arrows they had ready, both finding their mark in the archer that had attacked. In the boughs of the tree, the archer’s body went limp. Ember charged toward the archers while the others took cover behind shrubbery. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">More arrows were loosed toward cover, one barely missing Magnus’s head and darting past Calyx’s thigh. Magnus leapt behind Funeris, while Calyx lifted her arms into the air.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Matris! Confine these would-be-murderers!” She screeched. The forest seemed to shudder—and then to breathe—as the trees bowed to Calyx’s demands. Ember barely stopped his assault before vines sprung from the ground, flicking as if a snake tasting its surroundings—searching for prey. In the trees, vines lashed against the archers’ skin, entangled their bodies, and slowly but adamantly constricted their movements. Groans came from the wooded floor; two previously hidden men with spears were entangled in the living vines. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Drop your weapons! We do not want to slay you!” Exasperated, Nimrodel took a breath. “We just want to ask you some questions.” She stepped away from the tree, throwing axe in hand.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The remaining archer fired an arrow. It missed Raven, who had snuck through the forest to the north and west, by a wide margin. The last archer slumped against some branches, two arrows and a throwing axe in his chest.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I repeat. Through down your arms!” A fury blazed behind Nim’s eyes, her fingers tapped against her great axe. The spearmen released their grips on their weapons.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Now, answer our questions.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Not until you release us.” One cried.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Motega and Funeris raised their bows at the spearmen. “Go ahead, Calyx.” Nimrodel commanded. Quickly the living forest died into tranquility, the vines returned to their natural resting spots. “Do not attempt to run. First question, why are you in these woods?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Why are you in these woods?” Chimed the other spearman.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Don’t be cute.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“We were running from the bugs,” sighed the first spearman. “We managed to kill one or two and have been waiting here for our friends.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Question two, why did you attempt to kill us??”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“You fired at us. We were merely defending ourselves.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Liars!” Ember laid his javelin’s blade to rest on the spearman’s throat.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Well…” he stammered, “you spooked us. Maybe we thought it was another of those bugs. You can’t blame us for reacting, now, can you?” He added, “in a defensive manner.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Questions three and four, where did these things come from? And, where are your friends?” </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“One answer for both questions. Castle Llyndofare, maybe a day’s hike north of here.” He raised his arm to gesture but Ember forced it down with the javelin. ”And before you ask, those things just attacked us. We were merely defending ourselves. I doubt if any of our friends even survived.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I want you to leave this area.” Nimrodel, again, commanded. “If I ever see you in these woods again,” she swung the axe, lodging it halfway through an old, massive, oak, “I don’t think I need to finish that statement.” The spearmen grabbed their weapons and turned and bolted south through the woods.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">***************************************************************</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The entire group formed a circle around Motega and a fresh patch of ground he had dug. Resting in the ground was another scorpiot. “Well at least we know they weren’t lying about that.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“And at least we know where we’re heading, now,” added Funeris.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The heavens belched a wicked, thunderous roar; as lightning kissed the woods, not to far from their position. A few drops of rain smattered the faces of the party.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Let’s begin,” Motega ordered, “before the rains become too heavy and the ground too soft. I don’t want to lose the tracks, in case they <em>were</em> lying.” The party left the sparsely wooded field and again headed north.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Several hours later, what had been a light drizzle turned into a ferocious downpour. The group left the trail in search of shelter for the night. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">An old, decaying foundation nestled underneath overgrown trees became their camp. Although in a state of disrepair, the foundation supported pieces of an old floor, protecting the travelers from the storm although not from the relaxing sound of rain splattering.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">A fire was built. And upon a makeshift spit, wild game Motega had captured roasted. The smell had the same calming effect as the rain. A reflective, virtual silence descended on the travelers as they ate the game, except for Calyx. She nibbled on various roots and berries collected by both Motega and herself.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">As the fire dwindled, Motega spoke. “I think it best if we post a guard tonight. In case anything were to come upon us. We’ll draw straws for the task of first shift. Since there are eight of us, we’ll each take a one hour shift.” He held out his fist, out of which pierced eight pieces of root. “The man or woman,” he glanced toward Calyx and Nimrodel, “with the shortest piece takes the first shift.” </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">After all of the roots were drawn, Magnus had the shortest of the pieces. “Do…do I have to watch by myself?” he questioned; his face looked agitated in the dying firelight.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Yes,” Motega murmured sleepily. “Enjoy.” And then he rolled over, only a soft snore issued from his direction.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">With each drop of rain, Magnus’ head twitched from side to side. He peered into the darkness watching, but not being able to distinguish much. The rains were slowing and no sound stirred the leaves of the forest.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Magnus leapt as a hand clamped over his mouth, prevented his scream. “Quiet. I will watch with you.” It was Nimrodel. She sat beside him. “My eyes are better in the dark. And I don’t need to rest yet, anyway.” Magnus nodded jerkily. It would take him several hours that night to calm down.</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Funeris, post: 1704949, member: 22792"] [b]Chapter 2[/b] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Dawn on the second day of Gal was greeted with overcast skies and a chilling breeze. It would be a dreary day in the Northern Valus. Sir Eddam and Captain Wallach were standing beside four unknown men. One wore the garb of a cleric and busied himself on an inspection of the creature. Another of the four was a halfling, dressed in a worn cloak. As the stifling morning breeze broke across the plains, brushing the halfling’s cloak away, eight obviously used daggers dangled in the halfling’s belt.[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]“Right on time,” Eddam spoke. “These two guards will accompany you as far as they can. And we have supplied a mule per your request. Now, if you’ll excuse the captain and myself, we have other business to attend.” [/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Let’s get goin’” grunted one of the guards.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“No, not yet,” the cleric spoke. He stood from his crouched spot and brushed some dirt off his clothing. “I am Fitz, devotee of Ceria and this is Raven. We have also volunteered for this task.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Let’s go.” Grunted the same guard, obviously agitated.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“This beast was not slain with a sword as first thought,” Fitz continued. “These wounds are slightly small for a bladed weapon. They look more like arrow wounds to my untrained eye.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Motega bent over the carapace of the creature. “He’s right. But where did the arrows go?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Or better yet, why were they removed?” chimed in Ember.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Nimrodel strode over to the annoyed guard and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Where’d the arrows go?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“For Morduk’s sake, why does that matter?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Oh, just tell them Thom, so we can get going,” whined the previously silent guard.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Thom grunted and gestured to a bush on the edge of the plain. Brushing the vegetation to the side, Motega uncovered two snapped arrows. There was nothing distinct about the arrows, except for their lack of quality. Then he inspected the creature’s tracks.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Why were the arrows removed?” Motega glared at Thom.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Look, the boy Rorik must have removed them. They weren’t noticed until after the meeting last night. It’s unimportant anyway, right?” [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“The tracks lead north toward the forest,” Motega stated. “We should get started. I don’t think there’s anything else to see here.” He pivoted and took off toward the forest.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Finally,” Tom bellowed and moved to keep up with Motega.[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]***************************************************************[/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]One half hour into the trek, the two guards halted.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“What’s wrong?” Funeris questioned.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Well, we should be heading back.” Thom looked toward the other guard. “The edge of our patrol ends here,” he pointed vaguely toward the scarce brush. “Right, Rodoc?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Uh, yeah, that’s right. Our patrol ends here. Let’s go, Thom.” The two guards turned and nearly sprinted back toward the village.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Cowards,” Nimrodel accused but the guards were already out of earshot. [i]Never in all her life, had she seen such spineless men. On second thought, maybe one or two. If she dwelled ont it too long, though, she might be forced to teach them a lesson.[/i] So, she brushed her anger aside.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“So, should we be looking for these creatures?” Funeris asked, peering behind the party at the obnoxiously loud guards.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“That’s probably not necessary,” Motega replied. “Scorpiots are a subterranean race. I doubt we’ll see any in these woods.” He kneeled and studied the tracks again. “I’d worry more about who or what killed the one near town. It obviously wasn’t any of the guards.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Suddenly, Nimrodel cocked her head to the side and drew her axe. Motega turned toward the direction of the tracks and paused, reaching for an arrow.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“What is it?” Ember hissed, laying a hand on his javelin.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“I heard a woman’s voice,” Nimrodel whispered back.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“As did I. Maybe 200 yards ahead of us. If that.” Motega added.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The scorpiot’s tracks ended in a dense patch of vegetation only 150 yards further. Motega stopped and silently slid into the brush, disappearing momentarily. When he peeked back through the bushes, he whispered, “there’s a clearing. Follow me, we’re going to edge around it.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Cautiously, they circled the clearing, again heading toward the north. Motega raised his hand to halt the party. Then gestured to the party to be silent.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“[i]I could’ve sworn I heard something[/i],” a voice whispered.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“[i]You’re just paranoid[/i].”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“[i]No. It sounded like something was coming from the town[/i].”[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]“[i]No one comes from the town, you dolt[/i].” [/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Perched in a group of trees in the clearing, three archers faced the path they had just left. All three archers had arrows nocked, and were listening intently.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“You there! In the trees! We've come not to slay you” bellowed Nimrodel. The archers spun in their trees, nearly losing their footing. “We want only information. Attack us and you [b][i]will[/i][/b] reap what you sow.“ [i]thwick --[/i]an arrow sped past Nimrodel. She dived behind a nearby tree.[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]Motega and Funeris unloosed arrows they had ready, both finding their mark in the archer that had attacked. In the boughs of the tree, the archer’s body went limp. Ember charged toward the archers while the others took cover behind shrubbery. [/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]More arrows were loosed toward cover, one barely missing Magnus’s head and darting past Calyx’s thigh. Magnus leapt behind Funeris, while Calyx lifted her arms into the air.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Matris! Confine these would-be-murderers!” She screeched. The forest seemed to shudder—and then to breathe—as the trees bowed to Calyx’s demands. Ember barely stopped his assault before vines sprung from the ground, flicking as if a snake tasting its surroundings—searching for prey. In the trees, vines lashed against the archers’ skin, entangled their bodies, and slowly but adamantly constricted their movements. Groans came from the wooded floor; two previously hidden men with spears were entangled in the living vines. [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Drop your weapons! We do not want to slay you!” Exasperated, Nimrodel took a breath. “We just want to ask you some questions.” She stepped away from the tree, throwing axe in hand.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The remaining archer fired an arrow. It missed Raven, who had snuck through the forest to the north and west, by a wide margin. The last archer slumped against some branches, two arrows and a throwing axe in his chest.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“I repeat. Through down your arms!” A fury blazed behind Nim’s eyes, her fingers tapped against her great axe. The spearmen released their grips on their weapons.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Now, answer our questions.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Not until you release us.” One cried.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Motega and Funeris raised their bows at the spearmen. “Go ahead, Calyx.” Nimrodel commanded. Quickly the living forest died into tranquility, the vines returned to their natural resting spots. “Do not attempt to run. First question, why are you in these woods?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Why are you in these woods?” Chimed the other spearman.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Don’t be cute.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“We were running from the bugs,” sighed the first spearman. “We managed to kill one or two and have been waiting here for our friends.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Question two, why did you attempt to kill us??”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“You fired at us. We were merely defending ourselves.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Liars!” Ember laid his javelin’s blade to rest on the spearman’s throat.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Well…” he stammered, “you spooked us. Maybe we thought it was another of those bugs. You can’t blame us for reacting, now, can you?” He added, “in a defensive manner.”[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]“Questions three and four, where did these things come from? And, where are your friends?” [/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“One answer for both questions. Castle Llyndofare, maybe a day’s hike north of here.” He raised his arm to gesture but Ember forced it down with the javelin. ”And before you ask, those things just attacked us. We were merely defending ourselves. I doubt if any of our friends even survived.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“I want you to leave this area.” Nimrodel, again, commanded. “If I ever see you in these woods again,” she swung the axe, lodging it halfway through an old, massive, oak, “I don’t think I need to finish that statement.” The spearmen grabbed their weapons and turned and bolted south through the woods.[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]***************************************************************[/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The entire group formed a circle around Motega and a fresh patch of ground he had dug. Resting in the ground was another scorpiot. “Well at least we know they weren’t lying about that.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“And at least we know where we’re heading, now,” added Funeris.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The heavens belched a wicked, thunderous roar; as lightning kissed the woods, not to far from their position. A few drops of rain smattered the faces of the party.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Let’s begin,” Motega ordered, “before the rains become too heavy and the ground too soft. I don’t want to lose the tracks, in case they [i]were[/i] lying.” The party left the sparsely wooded field and again headed north.[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]Several hours later, what had been a light drizzle turned into a ferocious downpour. The group left the trail in search of shelter for the night. [/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]An old, decaying foundation nestled underneath overgrown trees became their camp. Although in a state of disrepair, the foundation supported pieces of an old floor, protecting the travelers from the storm although not from the relaxing sound of rain splattering.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]A fire was built. And upon a makeshift spit, wild game Motega had captured roasted. The smell had the same calming effect as the rain. A reflective, virtual silence descended on the travelers as they ate the game, except for Calyx. She nibbled on various roots and berries collected by both Motega and herself.[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]As the fire dwindled, Motega spoke. “I think it best if we post a guard tonight. In case anything were to come upon us. We’ll draw straws for the task of first shift. Since there are eight of us, we’ll each take a one hour shift.” He held out his fist, out of which pierced eight pieces of root. “The man or woman,” he glanced toward Calyx and Nimrodel, “with the shortest piece takes the first shift.” [/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]After all of the roots were drawn, Magnus had the shortest of the pieces. “Do…do I have to watch by myself?” he questioned; his face looked agitated in the dying firelight.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Yes,” Motega murmured sleepily. “Enjoy.” And then he rolled over, only a soft snore issued from his direction.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]With each drop of rain, Magnus’ head twitched from side to side. He peered into the darkness watching, but not being able to distinguish much. The rains were slowing and no sound stirred the leaves of the forest.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Magnus leapt as a hand clamped over his mouth, prevented his scream. “Quiet. I will watch with you.” It was Nimrodel. She sat beside him. “My eyes are better in the dark. And I don’t need to rest yet, anyway.” Magnus nodded jerkily. It would take him several hours that night to calm down.[/size][/font] [/QUOTE]
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In the Valus - The Heroes of Marchford (Chapter 14 Continues - 12/24/08)
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