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Middle World/Lakelands 1: Main Group
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<blockquote data-quote="Raven Crowking" data-source="post: 1820650" data-attributes="member: 18280"><p><strong>Fourteenth Session</strong></p><p></p><p>The party drew weapons and prepared to fight, expecting another contingent of zurgâsh-taking orcs. It became quickly clear that the thing making its way through the trees was larger than any orc. Nearly eight feet tall and shaped like a young willow tree, the being had supple bark for skin and long leafy stands instead of hair. As the party scrambled back, it began to sing softly, and the song soothed them. They calmed, and sheathed their weapons.</p><p></p><p>“A treant,” said Desu. “Who are you?”</p><p></p><p>“I am Longfall the Windsinger,” the creature replied, its voice the calm sound of the wind through the willows. “If you are enemies of these” – it swept one long arm toward the despoiled bodies of the orcs, where they still lay upon the battlefield “ – then I say to you that I fear greater evil is abroad than it now seems. Pixies I have found decapitated and piled in the forest, and where their heads are I do not know, but it would take a being of vile evil to do such a deed.”</p><p></p><p>“Do you have an idea who might be responsible?”</p><p></p><p>“I do not know with certainty for all things, but seek the the Bonewardens. Eastward beyond the Alder Stream they dwell.” It swept one long arm east.</p><p></p><p>“Very well,” said Locke. “We will look for these Bonewardens.”</p><p></p><p>“Thank you,” said Desu. “We need to return now, or Gork will not be let past the town gates.”</p><p></p><p>They took their leave of Longfall the Windsinger, who was already striding away, north and west – the direction from which the orcs had come. Hurrying back toward Long Archer, they made the North Gate, and the North Road Inn only just in time.</p><p></p><p>In the morning, they sold the orcs’ armor and weapons in the markets, though being orc-make, they did not command a generous price. They tried to turn in the orc ears, but it was Smithsday, and the Chancellor of the Eschquor was not at the Oak Pavillion.</p><p></p><p>They considered waiting the four days, but Locke said, “Let us just go and seek out the Bonewardens.”</p><p></p><p>In the Lakelands, travel by ship was often deemed by men to be superior to travel on foot. Now they learned the obvious truth of that suposition. Even on the often-used roads neares Long Archer, they found the going slow and hard. Often, they were forced to help push the cart out of a rut, for it had rained somewhat of late, and the road was muddy.</p><p></p><p>Unbeknown to the travelers, there lived in that area a witch who called herself Dame Gretel. Indeed, Desu and Locke had met that witch earlier that year, though they did not then recognize her for what she was, and at her behest they fought an ogre and his son. When those creatures fled, Desu had returned a reluctant donkey to the witch, and received what he believed to be turnips in return. They were not turnips, but had been glamored to appear so by the witch.</p><p></p><p>When they fought the ogre then, it had been wounded. The witch had killed its mate. Rather than allow its son to be killed, it had fled. The pair had survived by raiding farms along the edges of the wilderness. That night, they saw the fire of the party’s campfire, and came to take what they could. Whether or not they recognized Locke and Desu would never be known, for they were swiftly cut down, and the leathern sack containing their loot was thrown onto the party’s cart.</p><p></p><p>The next day was foggy, and the group traveled enshrouded in damp mist. As evening approached, a phantom – a grey lady, seemingly made of fog – came from the shadowed mists. Her cold touch seemed to damage them, although it made no perceptible wound save a white mark like frostbite. They tried to prepare with her, but the grey lady glided through the mist like a wind, touching and retreating before a return blow could land.</p><p></p><p>Gork stood away from the group, and raised a wooden disc inscribed with an oak tree and crossed sheaves of grain – the holy symbol of Amatheon. “Begone, foul being, back to the Pit from whence you came!”</p><p></p><p>The phantom glided forward again, laying her freezing caress along Locke’s shoulder.</p><p></p><p>“Very well!” growled Gork. “If you will not obey me, I shall send you to the pit myself!” As the phantom swept by, Gork stepped in with his scythe, cutting through the phantom in his holy fervor. Although the grey lady was seemingly made of mist, her mouth opened wide with surprise, and her form broke up into the fog.</p><p></p><p>“Well done, Gork,” said Nift.</p><p></p><p>Gork grunted. “Now, perhaps, we will be able to find a place to sleep. I could use a quiet night.”</p><p></p><p>That night was not destined to be quiet. During his watch, Nift heard something rummaging in their cart. Creeping quietly to the area, he saw that a skunk had found one of their bags. With its sharp claws and teeth, the skunk had ripped a hole into the leather bag, and was eating something within. In truth, it had found a hunk of hard, moldy cheese. It had been in the ogre’s sack, which they had failed to check.</p><p></p><p>Nift tried to speak to the skunk in the beast tongues that he knew. This was not unwise, for he had already encountered a fox that could talk, and the shadowy wolves of the river ruin could speak as well. However, this seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary skunk.</p><p></p><p>Nift tried to shoo the skunk away. It turned, facing him. It stamped its front feet aggressively – an action which a druid or ranger would have interpreted as a warning. When Nift continued to try to shoo it away, it turned and raised its tail.</p><p></p><p>Nift fled…but not far. He went to his piled gear and retrieved his crossbow. Loading it, he took careful aim at the skunk and fired. He succeeded in killing the skunk, but at terrible cost. The skunk released its musk as it died. The spray caught the cart and the goods piled within it, befouling them with its odor. Even throwing the skunk’s body into the bushes did little good.</p><p></p><p>Within two hours, forest ants began to arrive. These were large ants – each as large as a small dog, at about two feet in length, colored a reddish brown hue. Perhaps attracted by the skunk smell, they attacked with pincers and stinger, holding fast and stinging repeatedly. When the second wave of ants was defeated, the group hurriedly packed up their camp and moved. </p><p></p><p>Luckily, it was nearly dawn. Manveru, who had taken to riding in the cart and traveling on the efforts of the donkey’s labor, chose instead to walk.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Raven Crowking, post: 1820650, member: 18280"] [b]Fourteenth Session[/b] The party drew weapons and prepared to fight, expecting another contingent of zurgâsh-taking orcs. It became quickly clear that the thing making its way through the trees was larger than any orc. Nearly eight feet tall and shaped like a young willow tree, the being had supple bark for skin and long leafy stands instead of hair. As the party scrambled back, it began to sing softly, and the song soothed them. They calmed, and sheathed their weapons. “A treant,” said Desu. “Who are you?” “I am Longfall the Windsinger,” the creature replied, its voice the calm sound of the wind through the willows. “If you are enemies of these” – it swept one long arm toward the despoiled bodies of the orcs, where they still lay upon the battlefield “ – then I say to you that I fear greater evil is abroad than it now seems. Pixies I have found decapitated and piled in the forest, and where their heads are I do not know, but it would take a being of vile evil to do such a deed.” “Do you have an idea who might be responsible?” “I do not know with certainty for all things, but seek the the Bonewardens. Eastward beyond the Alder Stream they dwell.” It swept one long arm east. “Very well,” said Locke. “We will look for these Bonewardens.” “Thank you,” said Desu. “We need to return now, or Gork will not be let past the town gates.” They took their leave of Longfall the Windsinger, who was already striding away, north and west – the direction from which the orcs had come. Hurrying back toward Long Archer, they made the North Gate, and the North Road Inn only just in time. In the morning, they sold the orcs’ armor and weapons in the markets, though being orc-make, they did not command a generous price. They tried to turn in the orc ears, but it was Smithsday, and the Chancellor of the Eschquor was not at the Oak Pavillion. They considered waiting the four days, but Locke said, “Let us just go and seek out the Bonewardens.” In the Lakelands, travel by ship was often deemed by men to be superior to travel on foot. Now they learned the obvious truth of that suposition. Even on the often-used roads neares Long Archer, they found the going slow and hard. Often, they were forced to help push the cart out of a rut, for it had rained somewhat of late, and the road was muddy. Unbeknown to the travelers, there lived in that area a witch who called herself Dame Gretel. Indeed, Desu and Locke had met that witch earlier that year, though they did not then recognize her for what she was, and at her behest they fought an ogre and his son. When those creatures fled, Desu had returned a reluctant donkey to the witch, and received what he believed to be turnips in return. They were not turnips, but had been glamored to appear so by the witch. When they fought the ogre then, it had been wounded. The witch had killed its mate. Rather than allow its son to be killed, it had fled. The pair had survived by raiding farms along the edges of the wilderness. That night, they saw the fire of the party’s campfire, and came to take what they could. Whether or not they recognized Locke and Desu would never be known, for they were swiftly cut down, and the leathern sack containing their loot was thrown onto the party’s cart. The next day was foggy, and the group traveled enshrouded in damp mist. As evening approached, a phantom – a grey lady, seemingly made of fog – came from the shadowed mists. Her cold touch seemed to damage them, although it made no perceptible wound save a white mark like frostbite. They tried to prepare with her, but the grey lady glided through the mist like a wind, touching and retreating before a return blow could land. Gork stood away from the group, and raised a wooden disc inscribed with an oak tree and crossed sheaves of grain – the holy symbol of Amatheon. “Begone, foul being, back to the Pit from whence you came!” The phantom glided forward again, laying her freezing caress along Locke’s shoulder. “Very well!” growled Gork. “If you will not obey me, I shall send you to the pit myself!” As the phantom swept by, Gork stepped in with his scythe, cutting through the phantom in his holy fervor. Although the grey lady was seemingly made of mist, her mouth opened wide with surprise, and her form broke up into the fog. “Well done, Gork,” said Nift. Gork grunted. “Now, perhaps, we will be able to find a place to sleep. I could use a quiet night.” That night was not destined to be quiet. During his watch, Nift heard something rummaging in their cart. Creeping quietly to the area, he saw that a skunk had found one of their bags. With its sharp claws and teeth, the skunk had ripped a hole into the leather bag, and was eating something within. In truth, it had found a hunk of hard, moldy cheese. It had been in the ogre’s sack, which they had failed to check. Nift tried to speak to the skunk in the beast tongues that he knew. This was not unwise, for he had already encountered a fox that could talk, and the shadowy wolves of the river ruin could speak as well. However, this seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary skunk. Nift tried to shoo the skunk away. It turned, facing him. It stamped its front feet aggressively – an action which a druid or ranger would have interpreted as a warning. When Nift continued to try to shoo it away, it turned and raised its tail. Nift fled…but not far. He went to his piled gear and retrieved his crossbow. Loading it, he took careful aim at the skunk and fired. He succeeded in killing the skunk, but at terrible cost. The skunk released its musk as it died. The spray caught the cart and the goods piled within it, befouling them with its odor. Even throwing the skunk’s body into the bushes did little good. Within two hours, forest ants began to arrive. These were large ants – each as large as a small dog, at about two feet in length, colored a reddish brown hue. Perhaps attracted by the skunk smell, they attacked with pincers and stinger, holding fast and stinging repeatedly. When the second wave of ants was defeated, the group hurriedly packed up their camp and moved. Luckily, it was nearly dawn. Manveru, who had taken to riding in the cart and traveling on the efforts of the donkey’s labor, chose instead to walk. [/QUOTE]
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