el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #33
“Anubis! What have I done?” Beorth cried, suddenly finding his wits again.
Jana clutched her bloody, and retreated back into the central area. Beorth followed as ratchis yelled for him to get away from the thrashing satyrs.
Unfortunately, Martin took that opportunity to turn his dazed attention to the young witch and knocked her on the top of the head with his staff.
“Ow!” she cried out, as one of the little green men swooped past Beorth again trying to touch him, but the paladin just barely ducked.
“I’ll get them off of you!” Martin cried to Jan, staring as if he could see something hovering about her head, and then suddenly he shook his head, and seemed to realize what he had done. “Oh Jana! I’m so sorry!”
Ratchis moved to block the one entrance the satyrs could possible reach them through, and a pair swung around him and one slammed the half-orc’s chin with his cudgel.
Another pixie swooped at Beorth, brushing his bald head with a hand. Beorth felt a tingle go through his mind again, but was able to shake it off. The pixie banked and came around swooping at Jana, who barely ducked a touch as well, as Martin spoke an arcane word and cast blur on the paladin.
Beorth moved to block another possible area of access to the forge area by the satyrs. He held a pair of the goat-footed men at bay, ducking the wide blow of one as he spun madly, frothing and singing drunkenly o the melodic drums of the forest.
Ratchis felt the weight of another club, as he thrust the head of his hammer into the gut of one of the satyrs, knocking the wind out of him and sending him down.
“Attack to subdue!” Ratchis called, but his voice was drowned out by high-pitched chanting coming from one of the pixies.
“Grow! Grow! You gotta grow! Because working for the gnolls is a big no-no!” the pixie recited and suddenly the brown dry grass that had barely survived under the snow that had once stood here, began to grow at an incredible pace in a large square in one corner of the forge area, and wrapped itself tightly around Martin, Beorth, Jana and Jeremy. The Neergaardian was still frantically doing nothing but dancing, but now his jerky movements were even more ridiculous as the entangling grass tried to hold him down.
The pixies exploded with laughter.
Martin tried to pull himself to the edge of the flailing grass, but his strength was insufficient. Beorth followed suit, but failed as well.
One of the spinning satyrs reached out and swung at the entangled Beorth, but the paladin swung his sword back and forth and barely fended off the cudgel blow. Jana was desperately trying to get herself free, but the grass proved too tenacious. Martin began to saw at the individual blades of grass with his dagger.
As the three struggled to free themselves, and Jeremy could do nothing but dance, Ratchis held his ground, readying himself for any satyrs that might try to break through to reach Kazrack.
The pixies began to fly in a tight and quick circle.
“Hey! He looks like he has ants in his pants!” one of the pixies cried pointing at Jeremy.
“Shut up!” Jeremy yelled back angrily, as the music became even faster and more frenzied, syncopated by the slamming of the satyr cudgels against one another.
“Your beard looks thin to me, Master Dwarf!” Another of the pixies cried. “You call yourself a dwarf? You couldn’t hammer a roach!”
The all tittered and flew about.
“You have the limp-wristed hammering of an elf sniffing flowers!” Another Pixie mocked the dwarf, and again they all tittered and giggled.
“Nephthys, grant me your divine strength so that I may defend my companions and help us overcome this test!” Ratchis cried out, casting a spell upon himself.
Suddenly, Jeremy no longer felt compelled to dance, but he was still stuck fast in the tangled foliage. “Finally!” He cried. “Somebody get these off of me!”
Beorth was able to make some progress away from the outer edge of the entangled area, where the goat-footed men danced, but only managed to get himself more deeply entangled near the center, but at least he was out of reach of the cudgel blows.
A pair of the satyrs, moved to the edge of one of the trenches, and bellowing as they skipped past each other took swipes at the stakes below to clear them away. Ratchis moved to intercept them, coming between a pair, which allowed one to take a swing, striking the half-orc in the small of the back. Ratchis stumbled with an “oof” but kept his footing, and slapped one of the satyrs back with his hammer, trying hard to simply knock them out and not break any bones.
One of the pixies, dive-bombed at Jana and brushed the skin of her cheek. In a second, she had a blank stare and was no longer struggling to break free of the grabbing grass.
Martin reached over and began to try to help Jeremy pull himself free, as a pixie landed above Kazrack, atop one of the forges. It pulled a tiny little bow from its back and fit and arrow into it.
“Fun time!” the pixie cried. Jeremy was still stuck fast. Beorth, however, was able to break free finally, moving towards Kazrack.
Ratchis slammed another satyr with his hammer, knocking the goat-footed man into unconsciousness, while frustrated, Jeremy reached over into the fire and pulled out a brnad.
“Fire is no good,” the pixie atop the forge said, and fired one of his tiny arrows at Jeremy, but despite the fact that he was stuck fast, the arrow flew wide of the Neergaardian. Another pixie landed atop the forge that Martin and Jana had once been stationed and fired a tiny arrow as well. This one struck Jeremy, and he swooned. In a moment, he was snoring softly on the cold ground, dropping the fire brand.
Martin the Green picked it up quickly.
Beorth moved with uncharacteristic speed, sliding past Kazrack and reaching up, he slapped the first pixie with the bow in the side of the head with the flat of his sword.
“Huh?” the pixie said, surprised, before tumbling to the ground unconscious.
‘Well, that’s not nice!” the other bow-wielding pixie said annoyed, and fired an arrow at the paladin, missing.
“Why do you oppose us?” Kazrack cried out.
“Why would a jackass’ rear-end be an improvement over your hairy face?” one of the flying pixies replied.
Now it seemed that Ratchis was involved in the violent dance of the satyrs. He traded blows, but his divinely-borne strength gave him the advantage. One of the satyrs moved to get around the half-orc, as he eagerly moved to get at another, but Beorth momentarily ignoring the pixies dropped his sword and snatched his staff, to hold the satyr at bay away from the dwarf.
And still the music flowed from the wood in cacophonic waves.
The pixies flew in a circles tossing insults and non-sequitors, except for the unconscious one and the one with the bow atop the forge. It let an arrow fly at Kazrack, and the dwarf felt its tiny bite, but he was able to shake off the magic of it. Seeing this, Beorth left the satyrs to Ratchis and moved back to guard Kazrack.
“My little friend would you like to hear a joke?” Kazrack called up to the pixie that was firing at him.
“Oooh, I love jokes!” the pixie cried in his impossibly high voice. “Tell me a joke before I shoot you with an arrow and put you to sleep.”
Jana continued to drool, doing nothing but staring into space, while Jeremy snored. Martin stuck the non-burning end of the brand into the ground.
Ratchis called to his goddess once again, asking for her healing favors for himself, but he left himself open and felt the weight of a cudgel in his gut.
“Come on! Come on! Hurry up and tell me the joke, Master dwarf,” the pixie called. “Or I can tell you a joke.”
“Sumnus!” Martin called, getting his arm free enough to pull sand from a pouch and cast a spell at the pixie. However, the spell sputtered and had no effect.
“There will be no jokes!” Beorth admonished. “By Anubis, I will not allow you to keep us from fulfilling our appointed tasks for Osiris!”
“Shaddap!” the pixie replied, and fired an arrow at the paladin, but Beorth turned out of the way and swung his quarterstaff with both hands, bringing it down with all his strength on the pixie’s head. There was a sickening cracking sound, as the faerie collapsed into a bloody heap.
“Bad! Bad! Killer! Killer!” the pixies all began to buzz together. All laughter left their voice, replaced with a disturbing angry quality made chilling by their child-like voices. They all pulled out their tiny bows and readied arrows in them.
“Ha ha! What a funny joke!” Kazrack called out, and then said more softly to Beorth. “We want to maintain the illusion that this is still a game on both sides.”
“It is a little too late for that,” Kazrack,” Martin said, overhearing as he watched the pixie’s blood pour down the side of the forge.
A barrage of tiny arrows came down upon the paladin, most could not get through his armor, but he felt the bite of two and felt their magic try to affect him. He was able to shake off their effects with the grace of his god.
Martin took up the burning stick again. It was mostly burned away at this point and it scorched his hand as he dropped onto Jeremy’s sleeping form.
“Wake up! Wake up, now!” Martin yelled to the Neergaardian.
Beorth kneeled beside the pixie he had struck and laid his hand upon it, but even before he could call to his god to close the faerie’s wounds, he knew it was too late. The pixie was dead.
“How long have I been out?” Jeremy asked groggily, shaking his head back and forth after frantically brushing the firebrand off. “Whoa! How’d I sleep with all this racket? And all these guys are still here?”
“You need to get free,” Martin said, frantically to Jeremy.
“Who wants to hear my funny joke?’ Kazrack asked again.
‘Well, we got something funny for your friend,” one of the pixies squeaked, as they all aimed their bows at the paladin once again.
“Kazrack, wait ‘til I am free and I’ll be glad to listen to anything you have to say!” Jeremy replied.
Martin rolled his eyes.
Beorth left the pixie corpse and hurried over to where Ratchis was stick keeping the satyrs at bay. He thrust the butt of his staff into one. It bellowed angrily, as tiny arrows rained down on the paladin once again.
The satyrs continued to spin and dance, but now in tighter circle, making more of a concerted effort to get past the half-orc in one place, and past the paladin at another. Ratchis slapped another satyr with the broadside of his hammer and sent it reeling to the ground.
Jeremy struggled to stand, but the grasses held him down, just as they continued to hold Martin in place.
Beorth was distracted by the satyrs, and did not see the pixies continuing to fire their tiny arrows at him. He felt the slightest sting, and then a tingling washed over him.
“It’s done!” cried one of the sprites in his high buzzing voice.
“It’s done!” echoed another.
“No, it isn’t!”
“Yes, it is!”
“I heard it’s done. Is it done?”
“It’s done!” The pixie voices tittered back and forth, full of malice and laughter.
Martin spoke an arcane word or three and tossing colored sand, a spray of colors washed over three satyrs and they were stunned.
A satyr made its way past Beorth whose dropped his guard a bit and was looking around with a confused look on his face. The satyr grabbed Jana, who had just snapped out of her confusion to find herself entangled by the grass.
The young witch hissed a word, but her concentration was broken by the pawing satyrs, and her blindness spell failed.
“I love it when they resist!” the satyr drooled, lust in his deep bass voice.
“Get off of her you brute!” Martin said, trying futilely to reach them, but the grass held him motionless..
“Beorth! Quick! Help Jana!” Ratchis cried, reaching back and pushing the dazed paladin with one hand, while fending off a satyr with his hammer.
Beorth stumbled towards the witch, even as the music in the forest changed. The frenzied high flutes, gave way to earthy woodwinds, which were punctuated by deep hunting horns, that seemed to grow louder with each blow, as if hunters approached.
“Uh oh!” the pixies all cried and began to buzz away in the opposite direction of the horns.
Beorth smacked the satyrs grabbing Jana with his staff, and it turned to him, reaching for its dropped cudgel.
“Ratchis! If you can make your way towards me I can pause my work long enough to use my gods’ healing blessing,” Kazrack cried to the half-orc.
A satyr took a swing at Ratchis, who stepped back to avoid the blow and to be within reach of Kazrack.
“Lady of the Raised Shield! Please heal this one who shields me as a mother shields her child,” Kazrack said, putting his left hand to his runestone bag around his neck and he lay his right on Ratchi’s arm.
The half-orc felt the warm healing divine energy pass through him, and the stiffness of closing wounds. He smacked the closing satyr away, and filled the gap to keep the fey creatures away from the diligent dwarf.
Another spoken word from Jana, and the satyr that had recently held her and now tried to smash Beorth’s head in, cowered in fear and took off. Beorth gave the goat-footed man a parting shot with his quarterstaff. It yelped uncharacteristically.
The last pixie to depart hesitated and with a forgetful “oh yeah” snapped his fingers and the grass holding Martin, Jana and Jeremy and place returned to normal, freeing them.
“See ya!” the pixie cried, flying off. The hunting horns grew louder, but now there was another sound coming from amid the horns. The music seemed to swell and fall in off-time to make the sound become clearer. It was the baying of hounds.
Martin jogged over to Kazrack and crushing a turtle shell in his hand cast a spell of protection on the dwarf.
“Beorth!” Kazrack cried. “Come here so I can enchant your weapon!”
The paladin did not acknowledge the cry, but instead turned to Jana, “My lady, what do these creatures want with you?”
“Beorth! Come here!” Kazrack cried again.
“Beorth?” Jana questioned the paladin. “Whatever is the matter?”
The baying of the hounds seemed to unnerve the satyrs and they began to flee. Ratchis took a parting shot at one and sent it falling unconscious to the muddy ground.
Jeremy stood and drew his weapon, turning just in time to move out of the way of what would have been a skull-crushing blow from a satyr, as it fled past him. The blonde Neergaardian took the blow to the shoulder instead and returned in kind with the flat of his blade, slapping it in the side of the head.
“Who is Beorth?” the paladin asked Jana.
The young witch’s eyes opened wide in disbelief.
At that moment huge hounds broke from the trees and took off after the fleeing satyrs.
“This is craziness,” said Jeremy.
“You are Beorth,” Jana said, gently. ‘Don’t you remember?”
Beorth was silent.
“Oh, no!” said Martin, shaking his head.
“You with the quarterstaff. Come here!” Kazrack tried drawing the paladin over again, not allowing a little thing like loss of memory to interfere with his hope to enchant the weapon.
“His mind is clouded by the pixie’s arrows,” Ratchis said.
“Look, fill him in quick. Wolves!” Jeremy said, pointing the huge hounds.
Ratchis put a meaty hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Allow me to handle them.”
The hounds ran right through the clearing, ignoring the party and chasing the satyrs exclusively.
“Wow, good job, Ratchis,” Jeremy said.
The hunting horns continued to blow, and suddenly the women that had disappeared before emerged from their trees, applauding the hounds.
“Martin, tell me, what’s going on?” Jeremy asked.
“I think we are safe for now,” the watch-mage replied.
“What are we doing here?” Beorth finally spoke again.
“Come with me,” Jana said, taking his arm and leading him towards Kazrack.
Jeremy waved at the woman he had chased earlier. She laughed and waved back. He began to slowly walk towards her.
“So, uh… How you doin’?” the Neergaardian asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“Who’s the short guy?” Beorth asked Jana in a whisper, gesturing to Kazrack.
“That is Kazrack the dwarf,” Jana replied. “He is our friend. He can help.”
“That’s right, I will enchant your weapon,” Kazrack said.
“They’re all gone, Kazrack!” Jeremy sighed, shrugging his shoulders as the beautiful women began to dance in a circle again.
“I’m sure something is following them,” Kazrack said. “Don’t you hear the horns?”
“My lady, could you explain what is happening?” Beorth asked Jana again.
Martin climbed back up onto the cold forge again.
The horns swelled and for a second they all thought their eardrums would burst. They stopped with a final blare, and the party looked up to see three giant humanoids step into the clearing. They were nearly eleven feet tall, and had swarthy skin and curly red beards and hair. They were dressed in studded leather armor, and had huge swords at their sides and bows in their hands. They laughed a deep rich laughter that almost made the ground shake.
“Perhaps these men wish to be amused as the pixies,” Kazrack said, annoyed with their laughter.
The giants stopped laughing and the center one spoke. His voice was pleasant bass, almost melodic, “So, you are completing the sickle for the Circle of Thorns?”
”Aye,” said Kazrack.
“Much blood will be spilled with that blade,” the giant said, with smirk
“Whose?” Jeremy piped up.
“It matters not. Just… much…”
“And what is your place in all of this?” Kazrack asked.
“Our place is what it has always been to this dance of the moon,” the giant said.
“Didn’t you miss it?” Jeremy asked.
“We did our part, which is to end it.” the giant said. “So our tribe has done every full moon in the waning winter months since the time of our grandfathers’ grandfathers’ grandfathers.”
“Are the pixies of your tribe?” Kazrack asked.
“The pixies? They are like magical gnats,” the giant said, and the other two laughed. “Annoying, but part of the plan of Osiris.”
“So, this dance happens every…” Jeremy began.
“Full moon, yes,” Martin interrupted him.
“Jana, please distract Jeremy,” Kazrack said, not wanting the Neergaardian to speak.
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
The dwarf addressed the giants again. “One of our number has lost his memory from some curse of the pixies. Is the effect permanent?”
“Yes,” the giant replied. “He must build his life anew, unless you can find a powerful shaman to remove it.”
“Is there one among your kind?” Kazrack asked.
“No, we are a dying race,” the giant said with a grimace. “We no longer have any who have the craft to undo such magics. The irony that you would ask us for aid that we cannot give because of your kind is not lost on me.” (147)
“I do not understand,” Kazrack said, puzzled.
“Long have the stonefolk been an enemy of our people,” the giant said. “Emerging from their hills to rip up trees and hunt beasts and tear the minerals from the land and to war with our kind. Your people make no distinction between those of our tribe and others, and rarely have you respect for what lies outside the confines of your sculpted hills.
“Well, I am glad we are not coming to blows today,” Kazrack said.
“You may continue with your task,” the giant gestured to the anvil. “For you the difficult part is past – for your forgetful companion only difficulty awaits. It is a great crime to kill a pixie, for though they are tricksters they do no lasting harm.”
“We didn’t kill any pixies!” Jeremy cried.
Jana pointed at the pixie corpse.
“As you have taken life, so has life been taken from you,” the giant said.
Jeremy stared at Jana.
“Why are you looking at me? I didn’t kill the pixie,” the witch said, insulted.
“Oh,” said Jeremy.
“I supposed I must have killed the pixie,” Beorth said, despondently.
“And now we leave you to your task,” the giant said, nodding hid head. He and the other two marched off in the direction the hounds and satyrs went.
Kazrack sighed, and went back to work.
The woman in the green gossamer gown beckoned to Jeremy once again, and he skipped towards her family. The other women continued to dance.
“Someone keep an eye on Jeremy,” Kazrack said.
The Neergaardian was drawn away from the others, and this time the woman allowed him to come up very close.
“Tell you companion, Jana that we want her to join us again,” the woman said. “We have something to tell her. We hope to instruct her.”
“Jana! They want to talk to you right now!” Jeremy called. “It’s important.”
“They can talk to me right here,” Jana replied, suspicious.
“Convince her to come to us and I will reward you,” the woman whispered to Jeremy with a wink.
The Neergaardian marched over to Jana and took her by the arm.
“You are not yourself, jeremy.” Ratchis said, stepping over to stop him. “You are under the influence of a charm.”
”He is?” Martin asked, surprised. “He seems to be acting like he always does. Inscrutably.”
Jeremy yanked on Jana’s arm.
“Leave me alone. I don’t want to go with you!” She pulled her arm free with a jerk.
Jeremy sighed, and walked back to the object of his affections.
“Perhaps we should bury this creature,” Martin said gesturing to the dead pixie.
“I will pull this satyrs away so that when they wake up they will go elsewhere and leave us alone,” Ratchis said.
“Bring us the sister,” the woman said to Jeremy.
“I’m trying!” Jeremy whined.
“We only want to help her.”
“Jana!” Jeremy called to the witch again. “They say they want to share spells with you.”
Jana’s eyes narrowed.
“This may be your only chance to learn the ways of Isis,” Jeremy suggested, trying whatever he could to convince her to come over.
“There is a priestess of Isis in Nikar,; Martin said, remembering that Ratchis had mentioned this before.
“This is your last chance! You don’t know what you are missing” Jeremy called to Jana again, and then added under his breath. “And neither do I, for that matter.”
Jana ignored Jeremy and the women, and instead pointed out each party member to Beorth and said their names.
Martin walked over to Jeremy and took his arm. “Come back here with the rest of us. Ratchis says you are under the influence of a charm.”
“I am not.”
The women tittered and made one last revolution about the forge area and then disappeared into the trees. Their “leader” blew a kiss to Jeremy.
“Hey! Wait! Come back!” he cried, but they were gone again.
The music died away.
--------------------------------
The party buried the pixie. Beorth spoke some words to Anubis as best he could. He found that while he could not remember specific prayers, all the basic customs of his faith were still with him, and he while a great deal of knowledge was wiped from his mind, he still knew his god and his faith.
Kazrack finished the sickle, and then spoke a prayer over it. “Lords of the First Clan, King under the mountain, please watch over this sickle and make sure it will not be used for evil… I fear it will pass beyond my ken.”
“Mardak said he would come in the morning for the sickle,” Ratchis said. “So, we best just rest until then.”
“I hate to be beholden to this circle more than I have to, but I home they can help us with Beorth’s predicament,” Kazrack said.
“I certainly plan to ask,” Jana said. “I still not given them a fingernail.”
“I feel like we are aiding evil every time we help them,” Kazrack said.
“I do not think they are evil,” Ratchis said.
Kazrack rolled his eyes.
“It can be difficult to know without knowing more,” Martin said, “But by our standards I fear they are likely to commit some questionable acts – but they serve Osiris and Osiris is good.”
Beorth wandered off a bit to commune with Anubis and beg him for guidance. In time they all went to sleep, Jana and Martin taking the first watch.
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Notes
(147) Dwarves and giants are traditional enemies, hating each other since the beginning of mortal time.
“Anubis! What have I done?” Beorth cried, suddenly finding his wits again.
Jana clutched her bloody, and retreated back into the central area. Beorth followed as ratchis yelled for him to get away from the thrashing satyrs.
Unfortunately, Martin took that opportunity to turn his dazed attention to the young witch and knocked her on the top of the head with his staff.
“Ow!” she cried out, as one of the little green men swooped past Beorth again trying to touch him, but the paladin just barely ducked.
“I’ll get them off of you!” Martin cried to Jan, staring as if he could see something hovering about her head, and then suddenly he shook his head, and seemed to realize what he had done. “Oh Jana! I’m so sorry!”
Ratchis moved to block the one entrance the satyrs could possible reach them through, and a pair swung around him and one slammed the half-orc’s chin with his cudgel.
Another pixie swooped at Beorth, brushing his bald head with a hand. Beorth felt a tingle go through his mind again, but was able to shake it off. The pixie banked and came around swooping at Jana, who barely ducked a touch as well, as Martin spoke an arcane word and cast blur on the paladin.
Beorth moved to block another possible area of access to the forge area by the satyrs. He held a pair of the goat-footed men at bay, ducking the wide blow of one as he spun madly, frothing and singing drunkenly o the melodic drums of the forest.
Ratchis felt the weight of another club, as he thrust the head of his hammer into the gut of one of the satyrs, knocking the wind out of him and sending him down.
“Attack to subdue!” Ratchis called, but his voice was drowned out by high-pitched chanting coming from one of the pixies.
“Grow! Grow! You gotta grow! Because working for the gnolls is a big no-no!” the pixie recited and suddenly the brown dry grass that had barely survived under the snow that had once stood here, began to grow at an incredible pace in a large square in one corner of the forge area, and wrapped itself tightly around Martin, Beorth, Jana and Jeremy. The Neergaardian was still frantically doing nothing but dancing, but now his jerky movements were even more ridiculous as the entangling grass tried to hold him down.
The pixies exploded with laughter.
Martin tried to pull himself to the edge of the flailing grass, but his strength was insufficient. Beorth followed suit, but failed as well.
One of the spinning satyrs reached out and swung at the entangled Beorth, but the paladin swung his sword back and forth and barely fended off the cudgel blow. Jana was desperately trying to get herself free, but the grass proved too tenacious. Martin began to saw at the individual blades of grass with his dagger.
As the three struggled to free themselves, and Jeremy could do nothing but dance, Ratchis held his ground, readying himself for any satyrs that might try to break through to reach Kazrack.
The pixies began to fly in a tight and quick circle.
“Hey! He looks like he has ants in his pants!” one of the pixies cried pointing at Jeremy.
“Shut up!” Jeremy yelled back angrily, as the music became even faster and more frenzied, syncopated by the slamming of the satyr cudgels against one another.
“Your beard looks thin to me, Master Dwarf!” Another of the pixies cried. “You call yourself a dwarf? You couldn’t hammer a roach!”
The all tittered and flew about.
“You have the limp-wristed hammering of an elf sniffing flowers!” Another Pixie mocked the dwarf, and again they all tittered and giggled.
“Nephthys, grant me your divine strength so that I may defend my companions and help us overcome this test!” Ratchis cried out, casting a spell upon himself.
Suddenly, Jeremy no longer felt compelled to dance, but he was still stuck fast in the tangled foliage. “Finally!” He cried. “Somebody get these off of me!”
Beorth was able to make some progress away from the outer edge of the entangled area, where the goat-footed men danced, but only managed to get himself more deeply entangled near the center, but at least he was out of reach of the cudgel blows.
A pair of the satyrs, moved to the edge of one of the trenches, and bellowing as they skipped past each other took swipes at the stakes below to clear them away. Ratchis moved to intercept them, coming between a pair, which allowed one to take a swing, striking the half-orc in the small of the back. Ratchis stumbled with an “oof” but kept his footing, and slapped one of the satyrs back with his hammer, trying hard to simply knock them out and not break any bones.
One of the pixies, dive-bombed at Jana and brushed the skin of her cheek. In a second, she had a blank stare and was no longer struggling to break free of the grabbing grass.
Martin reached over and began to try to help Jeremy pull himself free, as a pixie landed above Kazrack, atop one of the forges. It pulled a tiny little bow from its back and fit and arrow into it.
“Fun time!” the pixie cried. Jeremy was still stuck fast. Beorth, however, was able to break free finally, moving towards Kazrack.
Ratchis slammed another satyr with his hammer, knocking the goat-footed man into unconsciousness, while frustrated, Jeremy reached over into the fire and pulled out a brnad.
“Fire is no good,” the pixie atop the forge said, and fired one of his tiny arrows at Jeremy, but despite the fact that he was stuck fast, the arrow flew wide of the Neergaardian. Another pixie landed atop the forge that Martin and Jana had once been stationed and fired a tiny arrow as well. This one struck Jeremy, and he swooned. In a moment, he was snoring softly on the cold ground, dropping the fire brand.
Martin the Green picked it up quickly.
Beorth moved with uncharacteristic speed, sliding past Kazrack and reaching up, he slapped the first pixie with the bow in the side of the head with the flat of his sword.
“Huh?” the pixie said, surprised, before tumbling to the ground unconscious.
‘Well, that’s not nice!” the other bow-wielding pixie said annoyed, and fired an arrow at the paladin, missing.
“Why do you oppose us?” Kazrack cried out.
“Why would a jackass’ rear-end be an improvement over your hairy face?” one of the flying pixies replied.
Now it seemed that Ratchis was involved in the violent dance of the satyrs. He traded blows, but his divinely-borne strength gave him the advantage. One of the satyrs moved to get around the half-orc, as he eagerly moved to get at another, but Beorth momentarily ignoring the pixies dropped his sword and snatched his staff, to hold the satyr at bay away from the dwarf.
And still the music flowed from the wood in cacophonic waves.
The pixies flew in a circles tossing insults and non-sequitors, except for the unconscious one and the one with the bow atop the forge. It let an arrow fly at Kazrack, and the dwarf felt its tiny bite, but he was able to shake off the magic of it. Seeing this, Beorth left the satyrs to Ratchis and moved back to guard Kazrack.
“My little friend would you like to hear a joke?” Kazrack called up to the pixie that was firing at him.
“Oooh, I love jokes!” the pixie cried in his impossibly high voice. “Tell me a joke before I shoot you with an arrow and put you to sleep.”
Jana continued to drool, doing nothing but staring into space, while Jeremy snored. Martin stuck the non-burning end of the brand into the ground.
Ratchis called to his goddess once again, asking for her healing favors for himself, but he left himself open and felt the weight of a cudgel in his gut.
“Come on! Come on! Hurry up and tell me the joke, Master dwarf,” the pixie called. “Or I can tell you a joke.”
“Sumnus!” Martin called, getting his arm free enough to pull sand from a pouch and cast a spell at the pixie. However, the spell sputtered and had no effect.
“There will be no jokes!” Beorth admonished. “By Anubis, I will not allow you to keep us from fulfilling our appointed tasks for Osiris!”
“Shaddap!” the pixie replied, and fired an arrow at the paladin, but Beorth turned out of the way and swung his quarterstaff with both hands, bringing it down with all his strength on the pixie’s head. There was a sickening cracking sound, as the faerie collapsed into a bloody heap.
“Bad! Bad! Killer! Killer!” the pixies all began to buzz together. All laughter left their voice, replaced with a disturbing angry quality made chilling by their child-like voices. They all pulled out their tiny bows and readied arrows in them.
“Ha ha! What a funny joke!” Kazrack called out, and then said more softly to Beorth. “We want to maintain the illusion that this is still a game on both sides.”
“It is a little too late for that,” Kazrack,” Martin said, overhearing as he watched the pixie’s blood pour down the side of the forge.
A barrage of tiny arrows came down upon the paladin, most could not get through his armor, but he felt the bite of two and felt their magic try to affect him. He was able to shake off their effects with the grace of his god.
Martin took up the burning stick again. It was mostly burned away at this point and it scorched his hand as he dropped onto Jeremy’s sleeping form.
“Wake up! Wake up, now!” Martin yelled to the Neergaardian.
Beorth kneeled beside the pixie he had struck and laid his hand upon it, but even before he could call to his god to close the faerie’s wounds, he knew it was too late. The pixie was dead.
“How long have I been out?” Jeremy asked groggily, shaking his head back and forth after frantically brushing the firebrand off. “Whoa! How’d I sleep with all this racket? And all these guys are still here?”
“You need to get free,” Martin said, frantically to Jeremy.
“Who wants to hear my funny joke?’ Kazrack asked again.
‘Well, we got something funny for your friend,” one of the pixies squeaked, as they all aimed their bows at the paladin once again.
“Kazrack, wait ‘til I am free and I’ll be glad to listen to anything you have to say!” Jeremy replied.
Martin rolled his eyes.
Beorth left the pixie corpse and hurried over to where Ratchis was stick keeping the satyrs at bay. He thrust the butt of his staff into one. It bellowed angrily, as tiny arrows rained down on the paladin once again.
The satyrs continued to spin and dance, but now in tighter circle, making more of a concerted effort to get past the half-orc in one place, and past the paladin at another. Ratchis slapped another satyr with the broadside of his hammer and sent it reeling to the ground.
Jeremy struggled to stand, but the grasses held him down, just as they continued to hold Martin in place.
Beorth was distracted by the satyrs, and did not see the pixies continuing to fire their tiny arrows at him. He felt the slightest sting, and then a tingling washed over him.
“It’s done!” cried one of the sprites in his high buzzing voice.
“It’s done!” echoed another.
“No, it isn’t!”
“Yes, it is!”
“I heard it’s done. Is it done?”
“It’s done!” The pixie voices tittered back and forth, full of malice and laughter.
Martin spoke an arcane word or three and tossing colored sand, a spray of colors washed over three satyrs and they were stunned.
A satyr made its way past Beorth whose dropped his guard a bit and was looking around with a confused look on his face. The satyr grabbed Jana, who had just snapped out of her confusion to find herself entangled by the grass.
The young witch hissed a word, but her concentration was broken by the pawing satyrs, and her blindness spell failed.
“I love it when they resist!” the satyr drooled, lust in his deep bass voice.
“Get off of her you brute!” Martin said, trying futilely to reach them, but the grass held him motionless..
“Beorth! Quick! Help Jana!” Ratchis cried, reaching back and pushing the dazed paladin with one hand, while fending off a satyr with his hammer.
Beorth stumbled towards the witch, even as the music in the forest changed. The frenzied high flutes, gave way to earthy woodwinds, which were punctuated by deep hunting horns, that seemed to grow louder with each blow, as if hunters approached.
“Uh oh!” the pixies all cried and began to buzz away in the opposite direction of the horns.
Beorth smacked the satyrs grabbing Jana with his staff, and it turned to him, reaching for its dropped cudgel.
“Ratchis! If you can make your way towards me I can pause my work long enough to use my gods’ healing blessing,” Kazrack cried to the half-orc.
A satyr took a swing at Ratchis, who stepped back to avoid the blow and to be within reach of Kazrack.
“Lady of the Raised Shield! Please heal this one who shields me as a mother shields her child,” Kazrack said, putting his left hand to his runestone bag around his neck and he lay his right on Ratchi’s arm.
The half-orc felt the warm healing divine energy pass through him, and the stiffness of closing wounds. He smacked the closing satyr away, and filled the gap to keep the fey creatures away from the diligent dwarf.
Another spoken word from Jana, and the satyr that had recently held her and now tried to smash Beorth’s head in, cowered in fear and took off. Beorth gave the goat-footed man a parting shot with his quarterstaff. It yelped uncharacteristically.
The last pixie to depart hesitated and with a forgetful “oh yeah” snapped his fingers and the grass holding Martin, Jana and Jeremy and place returned to normal, freeing them.
“See ya!” the pixie cried, flying off. The hunting horns grew louder, but now there was another sound coming from amid the horns. The music seemed to swell and fall in off-time to make the sound become clearer. It was the baying of hounds.
Martin jogged over to Kazrack and crushing a turtle shell in his hand cast a spell of protection on the dwarf.
“Beorth!” Kazrack cried. “Come here so I can enchant your weapon!”
The paladin did not acknowledge the cry, but instead turned to Jana, “My lady, what do these creatures want with you?”
“Beorth! Come here!” Kazrack cried again.
“Beorth?” Jana questioned the paladin. “Whatever is the matter?”
The baying of the hounds seemed to unnerve the satyrs and they began to flee. Ratchis took a parting shot at one and sent it falling unconscious to the muddy ground.
Jeremy stood and drew his weapon, turning just in time to move out of the way of what would have been a skull-crushing blow from a satyr, as it fled past him. The blonde Neergaardian took the blow to the shoulder instead and returned in kind with the flat of his blade, slapping it in the side of the head.
“Who is Beorth?” the paladin asked Jana.
The young witch’s eyes opened wide in disbelief.
At that moment huge hounds broke from the trees and took off after the fleeing satyrs.
“This is craziness,” said Jeremy.
“You are Beorth,” Jana said, gently. ‘Don’t you remember?”
Beorth was silent.
“Oh, no!” said Martin, shaking his head.
“You with the quarterstaff. Come here!” Kazrack tried drawing the paladin over again, not allowing a little thing like loss of memory to interfere with his hope to enchant the weapon.
“His mind is clouded by the pixie’s arrows,” Ratchis said.
“Look, fill him in quick. Wolves!” Jeremy said, pointing the huge hounds.
Ratchis put a meaty hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Allow me to handle them.”
The hounds ran right through the clearing, ignoring the party and chasing the satyrs exclusively.
“Wow, good job, Ratchis,” Jeremy said.
The hunting horns continued to blow, and suddenly the women that had disappeared before emerged from their trees, applauding the hounds.
“Martin, tell me, what’s going on?” Jeremy asked.
“I think we are safe for now,” the watch-mage replied.
“What are we doing here?” Beorth finally spoke again.
“Come with me,” Jana said, taking his arm and leading him towards Kazrack.
Jeremy waved at the woman he had chased earlier. She laughed and waved back. He began to slowly walk towards her.
“So, uh… How you doin’?” the Neergaardian asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“Who’s the short guy?” Beorth asked Jana in a whisper, gesturing to Kazrack.
“That is Kazrack the dwarf,” Jana replied. “He is our friend. He can help.”
“That’s right, I will enchant your weapon,” Kazrack said.
“They’re all gone, Kazrack!” Jeremy sighed, shrugging his shoulders as the beautiful women began to dance in a circle again.
“I’m sure something is following them,” Kazrack said. “Don’t you hear the horns?”
“My lady, could you explain what is happening?” Beorth asked Jana again.
Martin climbed back up onto the cold forge again.
The horns swelled and for a second they all thought their eardrums would burst. They stopped with a final blare, and the party looked up to see three giant humanoids step into the clearing. They were nearly eleven feet tall, and had swarthy skin and curly red beards and hair. They were dressed in studded leather armor, and had huge swords at their sides and bows in their hands. They laughed a deep rich laughter that almost made the ground shake.
“Perhaps these men wish to be amused as the pixies,” Kazrack said, annoyed with their laughter.
The giants stopped laughing and the center one spoke. His voice was pleasant bass, almost melodic, “So, you are completing the sickle for the Circle of Thorns?”
”Aye,” said Kazrack.
“Much blood will be spilled with that blade,” the giant said, with smirk
“Whose?” Jeremy piped up.
“It matters not. Just… much…”
“And what is your place in all of this?” Kazrack asked.
“Our place is what it has always been to this dance of the moon,” the giant said.
“Didn’t you miss it?” Jeremy asked.
“We did our part, which is to end it.” the giant said. “So our tribe has done every full moon in the waning winter months since the time of our grandfathers’ grandfathers’ grandfathers.”
“Are the pixies of your tribe?” Kazrack asked.
“The pixies? They are like magical gnats,” the giant said, and the other two laughed. “Annoying, but part of the plan of Osiris.”
“So, this dance happens every…” Jeremy began.
“Full moon, yes,” Martin interrupted him.
“Jana, please distract Jeremy,” Kazrack said, not wanting the Neergaardian to speak.
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
The dwarf addressed the giants again. “One of our number has lost his memory from some curse of the pixies. Is the effect permanent?”
“Yes,” the giant replied. “He must build his life anew, unless you can find a powerful shaman to remove it.”
“Is there one among your kind?” Kazrack asked.
“No, we are a dying race,” the giant said with a grimace. “We no longer have any who have the craft to undo such magics. The irony that you would ask us for aid that we cannot give because of your kind is not lost on me.” (147)
“I do not understand,” Kazrack said, puzzled.
“Long have the stonefolk been an enemy of our people,” the giant said. “Emerging from their hills to rip up trees and hunt beasts and tear the minerals from the land and to war with our kind. Your people make no distinction between those of our tribe and others, and rarely have you respect for what lies outside the confines of your sculpted hills.
“Well, I am glad we are not coming to blows today,” Kazrack said.
“You may continue with your task,” the giant gestured to the anvil. “For you the difficult part is past – for your forgetful companion only difficulty awaits. It is a great crime to kill a pixie, for though they are tricksters they do no lasting harm.”
“We didn’t kill any pixies!” Jeremy cried.
Jana pointed at the pixie corpse.
“As you have taken life, so has life been taken from you,” the giant said.
Jeremy stared at Jana.
“Why are you looking at me? I didn’t kill the pixie,” the witch said, insulted.
“Oh,” said Jeremy.
“I supposed I must have killed the pixie,” Beorth said, despondently.
“And now we leave you to your task,” the giant said, nodding hid head. He and the other two marched off in the direction the hounds and satyrs went.
Kazrack sighed, and went back to work.
The woman in the green gossamer gown beckoned to Jeremy once again, and he skipped towards her family. The other women continued to dance.
“Someone keep an eye on Jeremy,” Kazrack said.
The Neergaardian was drawn away from the others, and this time the woman allowed him to come up very close.
“Tell you companion, Jana that we want her to join us again,” the woman said. “We have something to tell her. We hope to instruct her.”
“Jana! They want to talk to you right now!” Jeremy called. “It’s important.”
“They can talk to me right here,” Jana replied, suspicious.
“Convince her to come to us and I will reward you,” the woman whispered to Jeremy with a wink.
The Neergaardian marched over to Jana and took her by the arm.
“You are not yourself, jeremy.” Ratchis said, stepping over to stop him. “You are under the influence of a charm.”
”He is?” Martin asked, surprised. “He seems to be acting like he always does. Inscrutably.”
Jeremy yanked on Jana’s arm.
“Leave me alone. I don’t want to go with you!” She pulled her arm free with a jerk.
Jeremy sighed, and walked back to the object of his affections.
“Perhaps we should bury this creature,” Martin said gesturing to the dead pixie.
“I will pull this satyrs away so that when they wake up they will go elsewhere and leave us alone,” Ratchis said.
“Bring us the sister,” the woman said to Jeremy.
“I’m trying!” Jeremy whined.
“We only want to help her.”
“Jana!” Jeremy called to the witch again. “They say they want to share spells with you.”
Jana’s eyes narrowed.
“This may be your only chance to learn the ways of Isis,” Jeremy suggested, trying whatever he could to convince her to come over.
“There is a priestess of Isis in Nikar,; Martin said, remembering that Ratchis had mentioned this before.
“This is your last chance! You don’t know what you are missing” Jeremy called to Jana again, and then added under his breath. “And neither do I, for that matter.”
Jana ignored Jeremy and the women, and instead pointed out each party member to Beorth and said their names.
Martin walked over to Jeremy and took his arm. “Come back here with the rest of us. Ratchis says you are under the influence of a charm.”
“I am not.”
The women tittered and made one last revolution about the forge area and then disappeared into the trees. Their “leader” blew a kiss to Jeremy.
“Hey! Wait! Come back!” he cried, but they were gone again.
The music died away.
--------------------------------
The party buried the pixie. Beorth spoke some words to Anubis as best he could. He found that while he could not remember specific prayers, all the basic customs of his faith were still with him, and he while a great deal of knowledge was wiped from his mind, he still knew his god and his faith.
Kazrack finished the sickle, and then spoke a prayer over it. “Lords of the First Clan, King under the mountain, please watch over this sickle and make sure it will not be used for evil… I fear it will pass beyond my ken.”
“Mardak said he would come in the morning for the sickle,” Ratchis said. “So, we best just rest until then.”
“I hate to be beholden to this circle more than I have to, but I home they can help us with Beorth’s predicament,” Kazrack said.
“I certainly plan to ask,” Jana said. “I still not given them a fingernail.”
“I feel like we are aiding evil every time we help them,” Kazrack said.
“I do not think they are evil,” Ratchis said.
Kazrack rolled his eyes.
“It can be difficult to know without knowing more,” Martin said, “But by our standards I fear they are likely to commit some questionable acts – but they serve Osiris and Osiris is good.”
Beorth wandered off a bit to commune with Anubis and beg him for guidance. In time they all went to sleep, Jana and Martin taking the first watch.
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Notes
(147) Dwarves and giants are traditional enemies, hating each other since the beginning of mortal time.
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