"Out of the Frying Pan"- Book IV - Into the Fire [STORY HOUR COMPLETED - 12/25/06]
- Thread starter el-remmen
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handforged
First Post
Anarie's "Destroy Them!" was quite ambiguous, good job portraying her words. She definitely seemed to be hiding something, even before the party brought it up.
~hf
~hf
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
#76 (part 2 of 2)
Session #76 (part 2 of 2)
“We seek no quarrel with you or your kin,” Martin the Green said, coming forward with both hands raised in the air. Dorn followed not too far behind him, loaded crossbow in hand and sweat dripping down his face. “And we seek no challenge against your rule here. We have only stopped when attacked or harassed by the fey, but we only seek to continue on and out of the forest to the east. Let us pass and we will not trouble or your kind; that we do swear.”
The giant was silent for a time, and when he spoke again he did not yell, though it was clear from his clenched jaw and fiery eyes that his anger had not abated.
“Fine, mage,” he said. “You may go on, but if you tarry again you shall face our wrath. The drow shall face it soon enough.”
“Tell us of this drow…” Kazrack began, but the giant scowled and Martin turned on the dwarf.
“We have no time to chat, we must be on our way,” he turned back to the giant. “We hope not to trouble you again.”
“You had better do more than hope,” the giant replied. “Know that you shall be watched.”
The giant walked calmly towards his brethren and then both melted into the shadows. The last lights of day died beyond the tree behind them.
“We need to keep moving now,” Ratchis said when the giants were gone.
“We’ve been marching all day,” Logan complained. “How can we even be sure we’ll get out of this wood any time soon? And then, when the giants fall upon us we’ll be exhausted. Better we find a secluded place to camp, rest up and if the giants come upon us tomorrow we’ll be better prepared to fight them.”
“Aw! Ickle wickle little man’s feetses hurts him!” Gunthar mocked. “He needs his momma’s teat to suck on.”
Kazrack suggested Martin levitate up and check how far it was before there was too little light. The watch-mage agreed, but he soon returned shaking his head.
“It is too dark already,” Martin reported. “I can see another river, perhaps three or four leagues away, and that may be edge of the forest, but I cannot tell. There was also some kind of cleft or ravine in a barren hill, maybe two leagues northeast of here, that may provide shelter…”
The watch-mage shrugged his shoulders and a light rain began to fall.
“We should keep going and try our best to get as far as we can from the giants, the orc fort, the undead and anything else that might delay us,” said Ratchis.
“I agree,” Martin said. “Or at the very least make for the ravine. It may not be part of the giants’ territory and it may be defensible if it is and they come for us… if not we can rest.”
“I still think we should stay,” Logan said. “It is a common enough tactic to allow your foe to tire himself out. The giants could be doing just that.”
“I take them at their word and would rather not fight them,” said Ratchis.
“I would never trust a giant’s word,” Kazrack grumbled. “I, too, think we should stay, or at the very least make for the ravine. Marching onward through the night seems like a fool’s choice.”
“Are you saying I am a fool?” Ratchis growled.
”No, D’nar,” Kazrack replied, abashed. “But you do not know the tales of the craftiness and evil of giant-kind that are told by my people. If you did, you might choose differently.”
“Are they anything like the tales of my kin?” Ratchis asked.
”You are an exception,” Kazrack said. “And you cannot say that any orc we have met on our journeys have not reinforced that.”
It was Ratchis’ turn to grumble.
“And you Roland?” Martin turned to the panther. “Do you want to stay?”
The panther bobbed its head up and down, but then growled and stalked over towards the northeast and jerked its head in that direction.
”I think he wants to either stay or make for the ravine,” Martin said. The panther bobbed its head again.
“The pussy is right,” Gunthar said. “If we are going to have to fight them anyway, I say we stay here, but if we have to go, let’s go to the ravine, or else little man might cry if he has to walk all night.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed.
“Fine, let us make for the ravine, then,” said Kazrack, looking to Ratchis. “It is a reasonable compromise and we can make the distance in two hours.”
------
Two hours became nearly four in the darkness of the cold rainy night and through the tangled roots and many bushes of the old forest.
The ravine was more of a huge barren cleft in a grassy hill. Rains slid down in great torrents on one side, echoing against the opposite wall and making muddy puddles in the floor. Twisted gray vines lined the ravine’s walls, and a jumble of roots atop a rocky outcropping made a natural shelter large enough for most of the group and the llama as long as two stood outside on watch.
However, before making camp the others grumbled in the constant rain as Ratchis hurried about searching for tracks and looking down the narrow crack that ran down the rear wall.
The half-orc returned shaking his head.
“The ground here looks swept or combed,” he said. “Like someone covered tracks, or perhaps this is the entrance to something’s home and they keep it clean. There are no bird’s nests and no droppings or bones around. We can’t stay here.”
Logan groaned.
“This place looks perfectly natural to me,” Martin replied, his long brown hair plastered to his face, his eyes were sunken and dark rings had begun to settle about them over the last few days. The light of one of the medallions Kazrack had made cast long shadows in the gloom.
“If something dangerous lives here as I suspect and the giants come we will be doubly endangered,” Ratchis replied.
“Maybe if something dangerous lives here the giants won’t come,” Logan speculated.
“That doesn’t seem like a good argument for staying, if whatever is here frightens giants we had best be scared of it too,” Ratchis said.
“Maaaaw,” said Fearless and shook his soaked coat.
“Meowrrr,” Roland cried angrily and his form shifted to that of a tiny cat again, and he leapt under the blankets rolled up atop the llama’s back.
“Face it Little Man, it is Snuffles’ way or no way,” Gunthar said, wagging his eyebrows, as he patted the llama’s neck to keep it calm. “He loves to tell people what to do. You’re lucky he isn’t like most pig-f*ckers or else you’d be taking the place of his woman every night.”
“Kind of like how you use that llama to take the place of your woman?” Logan sneered.
“Well, if it was between the llama and your momma for a girlfriend, I’d be hard-pressed to choose, I mean the llama is hairier, but at least it doesn’t smell half as bad as your rotten momma does,” Gunthar replied calmly. “Probably a better lay than your momma, too. Then again, whores get lots of practice.”
Logan sprang at Gunthar, his long sword suddenly in hand. The Neergaardian was barely able to leap back in time to save himself. As it was, the blade hacked his knee, and Gunthar stumbled backwards and onto the ground.
Fearless let out a frightened “Maaaaaaw!”
Gunthar climbed to his feet and drew his own sword, as Logan was upon him again. His face was pale with sweat, and blood was still running down his calf. He hobbled back and the two blades rang. Gunthar’s defense was barely adequate and he was beaten back before he could get a good footing, his face an ugly grimace of pain as he forced his injured leg to hold him up.
“Enough!” Ratchis roared, leaping between them. Kazrack pulled Gunthar away.
“Come on! Let me give it to him like I gave it to his momma,” Gunthar yelled. “I promise it will only be half as bloody!”
“We should have let him kill you,” Kazrack swore.
“Nice, Stumpy,” Gunthar said, grimacing. He dropped back to the ground and ripped open his pants leg to clean out the nasty wound Logan has dealt him. “I guess little men have to stick together.”
“I told you not to mention my mother again,” Logan said, his expression cold as ice.
“Oh shut up, ya little ninny,” Gunthar said. “You are lucky they broke it up because I would have killed you. Don’t think this is done. I don’t friggin’ take someone trying to kill me lightly. I will put you in the ground!”
Logan tensed again.
“I said, enough!” Ratchis roared again. “When this is all done you can have at it with swords as much as you like, but until then stay away from one another.”
”He just tried to kill one of your companions and that’s the best you have to offer?” Gunthar complained. “And you call yourselves virtuous men? Virtuous pig-f*ckers? You are the worst kind of hypocrites!” The Neergaardian stood and Kazrack healed him.
“If what you said is true I would not have healed you,” Kazrack said. “But Rivkanal teaches compassion.”
“Whatever you need to believe to feel better about yourself, Stumpy,” Gunthar stood, and picking up his sword, sheathed it. He threw Logan a look that might have killed.
Roland let out an amused mew, while Dorn and Martin stood watching the exchange in shock.
“Logan,” Kazrack said, drawing the Herman-lander away. “If you cannot hold your steel you will have to leave. I want to teach him a lesson as much as you do, but our quest is too important. Kill him later if you must.”
“Perhaps I will leave and rejoin you later,” Logan replied, quietly.
“I wish you would stay,” Kazrack said. “As I said, you can kill him when we are done. It will be all the sweeter for withholding it for so long.”
“I’ll think on it.”
“I’ve often wanted to kill him, too,” Kazrack offered.
“Then why not?”
“We need his sword, and yours as well,” Kazrack said. “Our mission is greater than any of our desires. I want to find a wife, raise a family, forge swords…” The dwarf looked off into the darkness wistfully.
“What? No axes?” Logan said, finally smiling.
“Well, axes, too…”
“I was about to say that would be undwarfly of you.”
“You would not be the first to say so.”
“As if it were so bad if your momma was a whore,” Gunthar grumbled, hobbling along as the Keepers of the Gate continued their forced march through the night a few minutes later. “After my dad stopped sending money, me own Ma took eight or twelve cocks a night and was well-paid for it. And we needed the coin.”
Isilem, the 9nd of Keent – 565 H.E.
Morning found them encumbered by sleeplessness. Step after step they plodded on and twice Ratchis had to double back to whisper in the llama’s ear and soothe it into cooperating. Otherwise it sat and brayed, spitting whenever its rope was pulled on.
“Will this forest ever end?” Logan complained. “At least a road with a roadside tavern. It would be a nice change.”
“Where are you from?” asked Dorn, falling in beside him.
“Teamsburg,” Logan replied.
“Uh-huh, I been there once before,” Dorn mumbled sleepily.
“It has probably changed a lot since your last visit,” Logan smirked. “Half of it burned and the other half rioted. It was beautiful.”
“Eh, at least you got out,” Dorn replied. “And didn’t have to go to war. The first I got whiff of that conscription I came adventuring in Derome-Delem. I figured if I could not be counted I could not be missed.”
“I wouldn’t have had to go to the war. They have a way of losing track of an influential watch-mage’s son’s conscription papers. I mean, my father would have insisted I go, it being ‘fair” and all, but I made sure it was never an issue,” Logan laughed. “Fighting somebody else’s war is sh*te and all, but to run away from war right into certain death? Does that make sense?”
“I could be safely back in Cutter Jack’s and living of the gold Flora and Bones and I found in that old fortress, but Nephthys saved me for a reason, so I mean to help Ratchis as much as possible,” Dorn replied. “But I’m not suicidal either, I still haven’t decided if I am going into Hurgun’s Maze. By all accounts, that place will be no joke.”
“You are going in the wrong direction!” cried a high-pitched voice from up in a tree.
“Yeah!” concurred two more. The three pixies appeared, bending down to look at them with furrowed brows and arms folded across their chests; their wings buzzed angrily.”
“You are going deeper into the forest and will anger the giants and they will smash you!” said the red-headed pixie. “Can’t say you wouldn’t deserve it.”
Everyone stopped and Ratchis took a quick look around and then frowned.
“They are lying,” whispered Martin to the half-orc. “I am certain we are going the right way. I got a decent view when I checked last night.”
Ratchis nodded. He checked the wind and looked up at the sun three times. It burned dully from behind a thin cover of gray that stretched from horizon to horizon. He was certain they still traveled due east.
“Okay, okay! You figured out our trick! We admit it, but still are going to miss talking to Old Man Tree and Mister Rock Man, and they can tell you all about the captured elf-lord that needs your help.”
“Shut up! You said too much!” one of the dark haired pixies smacked the red-headed one in the back of the head and the third one laughed.
“Mister Rock Man is liable to ground them up into little colored pebbles, anyway,” said the red-headed pixie, rubbing his head as he sulked.
“Mister Rock Man? Old Man Tree? Sounds like a fairy tale gone awry,” Logan said.
“Whaddya want? We’re faeries!” the dark-haired pixie on the left squealed angrily.
“Maybe we should go talk to these men,” Martin suggested. “They may have some lore we need.”
“It is likely to be another of their tricks,” Kazrack frowned. “Ignore them.”
“Trick or not, we don’t have time,” Ratchis added.
The tiny kitten on the llama leapt to the ground, its form growing nearly liquid for a moment as it turned into Roland. He was aghast.
“A friar of Nephthys is going to ignore the good possibility of someone is being held captive against their will somewhere in this wood and just go along his merry way?”
“I pray for Nephthys to forgive me,” Ratchis rasped in reply. “I would like nothing better than to look into this and free a captive if it needs to be done, but we have no time. We must be there when the light shines at dawn on that day or else we cannot hope to figure out how to get in Hurgun’s Maze, and if we cannot do that and someone else figures out a way to do so, all of Derome-Delem would be at risk. A choice needs to be made and I have made it.”
“For all of us, it seems,” Roland replied.
“You are free to do as you please,” Ratchis said. “You chose to come along with us.”
“Forgive me, Ratchis. I should not presume to tell you how to honor your goddess,” Roland looked right into Ratchis’ eyes, and then looked down demurely. “I am tired. We have not slept or ate in too long.”
“Ooh! That cat’s got a silver tongue,” said the red-headed pixie.
“Is Old Man Tree a pixie? Is he your leader?” Martin asked.
“No!” all three pixies replied together.
“I’m the leader! said the red-headed one.
“No! I’m the leader,” said the dark-haired one on the right.
“No way! I’m oldest and wisest,” said the third.
“Wisdom is overrated,” said the second.
“Wait. Which of you is the leader? I think from now on we’re only going to talk to the leader,” Martin said.
The pixies fell to arguing among themselves about who was leader once again, and then it devolved into invisible fisticuffs.
“I guess I am not the only one around here with a silver tongue,” Roland winked at Martin.
“Ew! I’ve seen where he puts his tongue, Marty. I don’t think that’s a compliment,” Gunthar snorted when he laughed at his own joke.
”You’d do it too if you could reach,” Roland quipped.
“Heh. You’ll try anything at sea,” Gunthar replied with a grin.
“Enough. Let’s keep going,” Kazrack said.
“To the Old Man Tree?” Two of the pixies were still fighting, but one of the dark-haired ones had extricated himself. “Be careful,” he placed his cupped hand to his mouth and whispered. “The goatfoats are near there and they don’t like men or cats.”
“What is he talking about?” Logan said with a look of skepticism.
“Satyrs. Half-man, part-goat. They like to have sex and hit people with sticks,” Martin replied.
“Ha! You might get some after all!” Gunthar laughed, and Logan shot him a glare.
The party was about to begin their march again. When the pixies called to Kazrack. “Lots of kafka mushrooms grow near there.” (1)
The dwarf’s eyes widened, but then he frowned. “That means there’s a cave near there. Another trick. Unless you’d be willing to go and bring us some.”
“Or Moonless Midnight Mushrooms,” said one of the other pixies, he was sitting atop the head of the red-headed pixie who lay across the thick branch of a tree huffing and puffing.
“What are those?” Kazrack asked.
“Delicious, hallucinogenic and deadly,” Martin answered.
“Where can we find those?” He asked the pixies.
“Go see Mister Rock Man,” replied the red-headed pixie.
“Why do you want those?” Kazrack asked.
“They are very rare and are reputed to have magical properties,” Martin replied.
Logan frowned and looked to Ratchis who snorted his disapproval.
“Is this elf-lord a captive of the witch?” Roland asked the pixies.
“Maybe so,” they replied coyly.
“I say we go free the elf and piss off the witch,” Logan suggested.
“And her guardian,” one of the dark-haired pixies added and then covered his mouth.
“Is Mister Rock Man the guardian?” Roland asked.
“No, it’s the Black Beast,” the red-headed pixie said.
“This gets worse all the time,” Logan said. “Forget the whole thing. Ratchis is right. Let’s go.”
The pixies began to whine and complain.
“They’re leaving the elf-lord to die,” one of the pixies cried.
Kazrack stopped and sighed and looked at Ratchis who had also stopped, and then the dwarf turned to look at the pixies opened his mouth and then closed it again. He scratched at his beard and finally said, “We will go seek out the captured elf-lord if you make an oath to not hinder or harm us along the way.”
The pixies each imitated the dwarf’s mannerisms and finally the dark haired one on the right asked, “Would telling the Goatfeet you were coming count as ‘hindering’?”
Kazrack looked to Martin.
“Satyrs,” was all the watch-mage said.
Kazrack turned back to the pixies, “Yes.”
“Yeah, we can’t promise that,” replied the first.
“Nope. No we can’t,” agreed the second.
”We promise!” said the third, nodding his head vigorously.
“Yes! Yes! We promise!” the first two said, now nodding as well.
Kazrack sighed again, and Ratchis grunted.
Logan grumbled and Gunthar and Roland laughed. Martin only smiled.
“We are leaving,” said Kazrack.
The Keepers of the Gate marched until Ra’s Glory had reached its zenith and then collapsed. The forest was only a shadow behind them.
------------------------------
Hours later at Ratchis’ urging they picked up and moved camp a few leagues to the east, where a steep hill gave way to an even steeper drop on the other side. The Keepers of the Gate made their way to the top and took in the view.
In the far distant, beneath the creeping gloom of evening there was a dull red glow that covered the earth. A stiff warm wind blew across the top of the ridge, and the sky above the glow was black and roiling, at times tongues of what could only be flames shot way up into the air and then shattered into thousands of dying fireflies.
“How far away is that?” Kazrack asked.
“That’s Greenreed Valley, “ Martin replied, solemnly. Ratchis nodded.
There was a long silence.
“Looks like a forest fire,” the half-orc finally said.
“War,” said Logan. “Soldiers burn and pillage.”
“Could it be the neighboring kingdom… the Setites, what is it called?” asked Roland, transforming to his human shape once again.
“Menovia,” answered Ratchis.
“More likely they went to war with the gnomes,” Kazrack said.
“It could be the influence of the Maze. There is a plane of fire,” Martin said. “It is one of the greater Otherworlds…muh-made entirely of fire and molten rock. It could be leaking through to our world. Remember the great many-headed snail we encountered.” (2)
Again there was a long silence as they watched the glow brighten, as the surrounding sky grew dark.
“Was not the temple of Bast in Gothanius right on the border to Greenreed Valley?” Roland asked, already knowing the answer. “We must go there first.”
“We are not going anywhere near there,” said Ratchis.
“What?” Roland’s face looked as if someone had just passed noxious gas.
“We need to find where the beam of light will hit on the ridge and then reflect to show us the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze,” Ratchis replied. “We do not know how long it will take to find the proper spot, and others may be looking for it. We must be careful and let no one know we are back. The temple of Bast is too close to Summit. Someone might see us.”
“It is nearly three weeks before the proper alignment of the sun will occur,” Roland said. “Unless you told me wrong back at Mercy’s house.”
“We don’t know how long it will take to find,” Ratchis said very slowly. “And we cannot afford to meet any distractions along the way. And if the Gothanians have attacked the gnomes I would rather not know, for it would be difficult to ignore that to insure we get into the Maze.”
Roland’s jaw dropped open. “Are you joking, Ratchis?”
“He never jokes,” said Gunthar, laughing.
The Bastite ignored him and continued. “That is a slippery slope you tread on, Ratchis,” he said. “You cannot fool the gods or your own conscience by remaining willfully ignorant.”
Ratchis shrugged his shoulders.
“I am afraid I must insist we go to the temple of my goddess,” Roland continued. “It is my duty to see the place and see what harm has come to it, and it might be a place we can hide and rest until the time comes to enter the Maze.”
“We cannot risk it,” Kazrack said, agreeing with his long-time companion.
Roland’s mouth opened again and he let out a confused sigh that turned into a growl. He looked to Martin the Green, but the watch-mage simply looked down as his own feet silently.
“If it were a dwarven temple threatened by a malevolent force, what then?” Roland asked the dwarf, his voice rising in pitch, as he grew angrier.
“I would still ignore it,” the dwarf replied, solemnly. “The fate of Derome-Delem is more important than a single temple.”
“I may have to go on my own then,” Roland replied, letting the steam out of his demeanor.
“You promised to help us!” Now it was Kazrack’s turn to be angry.
“Enough,” Ratchis sighed. “He must do what his heart tells him, and so must we all, fighting now solves nothing. I see a trail down this ridge that we should be able to use even in this light, and then we’ll make camp.”
The half-orc began the descent, and the others followed, except for Roland who transformed into his panther form and stalked off into the darkness. He did not return to camp until dawn, carrying three small rabbits in his jaws. He ate one raw and whole, and Ratchis undercooked the other two, but the party ate them anyway.
Teflem, the 13th of Keent – 565 H.E.
The next few days they crossed many streams, and many smaller woods of younger trees. The nights were growing colder, but the glow from Greenreed Valley was growing brighter and closer. Less than three days from the valley, ashy breezes would sweep across them every few hours, making their eyes burn and tossing up the dry earth. The trees and plants were all covered in a thin film of gray and everything seemed sickly and dying.
Ratchis and Logan took off to scout ahead, and the others eventually caught up to them where they had found the charred corpses of several gnolls at the base of a scorched tree. Several spots looked like they had been burning for quite some time.
“What could have done this?” Logan asked.
“The dragon?” speculated Kazrack.
”I don’t think so,” Martin replied. Roland crept up, still in his panther form, and sniffed the bodies and then moved quickly away. “Though it certainly looks like a flash fire of some sort.”
“They have spear wounds in addition to their burns,” Ratchis said. “And I found some kind of large bird tracks. Most were ruined by the falling ash and winds, but it was some kind of large bird, maybe five feet tall, long legs, probably flightless.”
Martin the Green shrugged his shoulders. He knew of no creatures that matched that description. Suddenly, he noticed a translucent orb floating near Kazrack, and he knew no one else could see it. (3)
”We are being watched,” Martin hissed.
“Point me towards the foul orb,” Kazrack said, grabbing hold his pouch of runestones, and Martin pointed. “Natan-ahb, I call on you to cast the shadow of the First Mountain across this wicked arcane eye so that it may obscure the vision of our vile foes.”
“Very good,” said Martin when he saw the orb disappear. Kazrack laughed and reaching up clapped Martin on the back.
“Do you think it was Richard?” Kazrack asked.
“Probably.”
“Or Rindalith,” added Ratchis.
That night they camped under some thorny trees that had resisted the various fires they now found signs of every few miles. They did not dare make a fire of their own.
Anulem, the 14th of Keent – 565 H.E.
The next morning they were in a thick wood again, but here the ash was an even thicker blanket on everything, and in places trees still smoked and smoldered, but a consistent rain kept any threat of flames spreading at bay.
The tall ridge wall of Greenreed Valley was visible whenever the clouds parted to let the sunlight through for a moment before sealing it away again. The forest floor banked slightly upwards towards the valley as they approached just slightly south of west.
Ratchis noticed there was no sound of birds or other small animals or insects. There was only the ‘splut’ of fat raindrops in the ash, covering everything in a disgusting black and brackish paste.
Just after noon they walked through an open field marked with low barren trees and an occasional coniferous bush that looked like great motionless gray balls of dust. In some place the trees and bushes were clumped closely together, causing the party to go wide around them, but mostly they were spread fairly widely apart. Much of the landscape was burned here as well.
Ratchis led, as usual, with Logan close behind him. The half-orc stopped and pointed. Logan could see small puffs of smoke appearing from up head on the banked ground. Something approached from the direction of the valley, something moving fairly quickly, but that was low to the ground.
“Stop! Something is coming,” Ratchis raised his hand.
Now they could all see shapes moving through the trees and bushes. At first only a head would be visible for a moment, and then a spearhead hopping up and down for several dozen yards, before disappearing behind a tree or bush. Puffs of smoke and flashes of fire accompanied the quickly arriving creatures.
“We need to hide!” Martin cried.
“Too late,” Kazrack gasped. At least a score of creatures came bursting through the trees charging in their direction. Short squat dull gray reptilian men armored in chainmail were coming. They wore half-helms fitted to their heads with a long folded ridge that protruded from the bottom to protect their snouts. Smoke rose from their nostrils as they snorted and hissed. Many held spears, but also had fierce looking battle-axes hanging on the flanks of their mounts, which they urged on. The mounts were strange beasts, five foot at the shoulder; they had two clawed legs with bird-like taloned feet that carried their awkward bodies forward with great strides. The creatures were covered in fine scales and had long necks that held their misshapen heads low to the ground. They had large eyes with cowl-like ridged lids. Their mouths were like a beak of tortoise shell, and when they squawked small gouts of fire shout out from them.
The strange warriors fell into a two phalanx formations. One group brought the spears down and charged right towards the Keepers of the Gate, while the second turned off to approach from the south, sliding their spears away and drawing their battle axes.
“Form a line! Form a line!” Kazrack cried. Gunthar cursed and dragged the llama into some thick brush, hoping it might be safe there for a time.
End of Session #76
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Notes:
(1) Kafka is a coffee like beverage made from steeped subterranean mushrooms. It is common to dwarves and gnomes.
(2) The dire flaming flail snail. (see session #18)
(3) DM’s Note: At this point Martin was casting Detect Scrying (which lasts 24 hours) everyday at noon.
Session #76 (part 2 of 2)
“We seek no quarrel with you or your kin,” Martin the Green said, coming forward with both hands raised in the air. Dorn followed not too far behind him, loaded crossbow in hand and sweat dripping down his face. “And we seek no challenge against your rule here. We have only stopped when attacked or harassed by the fey, but we only seek to continue on and out of the forest to the east. Let us pass and we will not trouble or your kind; that we do swear.”
The giant was silent for a time, and when he spoke again he did not yell, though it was clear from his clenched jaw and fiery eyes that his anger had not abated.
“Fine, mage,” he said. “You may go on, but if you tarry again you shall face our wrath. The drow shall face it soon enough.”
“Tell us of this drow…” Kazrack began, but the giant scowled and Martin turned on the dwarf.
“We have no time to chat, we must be on our way,” he turned back to the giant. “We hope not to trouble you again.”
“You had better do more than hope,” the giant replied. “Know that you shall be watched.”
The giant walked calmly towards his brethren and then both melted into the shadows. The last lights of day died beyond the tree behind them.
“We need to keep moving now,” Ratchis said when the giants were gone.
“We’ve been marching all day,” Logan complained. “How can we even be sure we’ll get out of this wood any time soon? And then, when the giants fall upon us we’ll be exhausted. Better we find a secluded place to camp, rest up and if the giants come upon us tomorrow we’ll be better prepared to fight them.”
“Aw! Ickle wickle little man’s feetses hurts him!” Gunthar mocked. “He needs his momma’s teat to suck on.”
Kazrack suggested Martin levitate up and check how far it was before there was too little light. The watch-mage agreed, but he soon returned shaking his head.
“It is too dark already,” Martin reported. “I can see another river, perhaps three or four leagues away, and that may be edge of the forest, but I cannot tell. There was also some kind of cleft or ravine in a barren hill, maybe two leagues northeast of here, that may provide shelter…”
The watch-mage shrugged his shoulders and a light rain began to fall.
“We should keep going and try our best to get as far as we can from the giants, the orc fort, the undead and anything else that might delay us,” said Ratchis.
“I agree,” Martin said. “Or at the very least make for the ravine. It may not be part of the giants’ territory and it may be defensible if it is and they come for us… if not we can rest.”
“I still think we should stay,” Logan said. “It is a common enough tactic to allow your foe to tire himself out. The giants could be doing just that.”
“I take them at their word and would rather not fight them,” said Ratchis.
“I would never trust a giant’s word,” Kazrack grumbled. “I, too, think we should stay, or at the very least make for the ravine. Marching onward through the night seems like a fool’s choice.”
“Are you saying I am a fool?” Ratchis growled.
”No, D’nar,” Kazrack replied, abashed. “But you do not know the tales of the craftiness and evil of giant-kind that are told by my people. If you did, you might choose differently.”
“Are they anything like the tales of my kin?” Ratchis asked.
”You are an exception,” Kazrack said. “And you cannot say that any orc we have met on our journeys have not reinforced that.”
It was Ratchis’ turn to grumble.
“And you Roland?” Martin turned to the panther. “Do you want to stay?”
The panther bobbed its head up and down, but then growled and stalked over towards the northeast and jerked its head in that direction.
”I think he wants to either stay or make for the ravine,” Martin said. The panther bobbed its head again.
“The pussy is right,” Gunthar said. “If we are going to have to fight them anyway, I say we stay here, but if we have to go, let’s go to the ravine, or else little man might cry if he has to walk all night.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed.
“Fine, let us make for the ravine, then,” said Kazrack, looking to Ratchis. “It is a reasonable compromise and we can make the distance in two hours.”
------
Two hours became nearly four in the darkness of the cold rainy night and through the tangled roots and many bushes of the old forest.
The ravine was more of a huge barren cleft in a grassy hill. Rains slid down in great torrents on one side, echoing against the opposite wall and making muddy puddles in the floor. Twisted gray vines lined the ravine’s walls, and a jumble of roots atop a rocky outcropping made a natural shelter large enough for most of the group and the llama as long as two stood outside on watch.
However, before making camp the others grumbled in the constant rain as Ratchis hurried about searching for tracks and looking down the narrow crack that ran down the rear wall.
The half-orc returned shaking his head.
“The ground here looks swept or combed,” he said. “Like someone covered tracks, or perhaps this is the entrance to something’s home and they keep it clean. There are no bird’s nests and no droppings or bones around. We can’t stay here.”
Logan groaned.
“This place looks perfectly natural to me,” Martin replied, his long brown hair plastered to his face, his eyes were sunken and dark rings had begun to settle about them over the last few days. The light of one of the medallions Kazrack had made cast long shadows in the gloom.
“If something dangerous lives here as I suspect and the giants come we will be doubly endangered,” Ratchis replied.
“Maybe if something dangerous lives here the giants won’t come,” Logan speculated.
“That doesn’t seem like a good argument for staying, if whatever is here frightens giants we had best be scared of it too,” Ratchis said.
“Maaaaw,” said Fearless and shook his soaked coat.
“Meowrrr,” Roland cried angrily and his form shifted to that of a tiny cat again, and he leapt under the blankets rolled up atop the llama’s back.
“Face it Little Man, it is Snuffles’ way or no way,” Gunthar said, wagging his eyebrows, as he patted the llama’s neck to keep it calm. “He loves to tell people what to do. You’re lucky he isn’t like most pig-f*ckers or else you’d be taking the place of his woman every night.”
“Kind of like how you use that llama to take the place of your woman?” Logan sneered.
“Well, if it was between the llama and your momma for a girlfriend, I’d be hard-pressed to choose, I mean the llama is hairier, but at least it doesn’t smell half as bad as your rotten momma does,” Gunthar replied calmly. “Probably a better lay than your momma, too. Then again, whores get lots of practice.”
Logan sprang at Gunthar, his long sword suddenly in hand. The Neergaardian was barely able to leap back in time to save himself. As it was, the blade hacked his knee, and Gunthar stumbled backwards and onto the ground.
Fearless let out a frightened “Maaaaaaw!”
Gunthar climbed to his feet and drew his own sword, as Logan was upon him again. His face was pale with sweat, and blood was still running down his calf. He hobbled back and the two blades rang. Gunthar’s defense was barely adequate and he was beaten back before he could get a good footing, his face an ugly grimace of pain as he forced his injured leg to hold him up.
“Enough!” Ratchis roared, leaping between them. Kazrack pulled Gunthar away.
“Come on! Let me give it to him like I gave it to his momma,” Gunthar yelled. “I promise it will only be half as bloody!”
“We should have let him kill you,” Kazrack swore.
“Nice, Stumpy,” Gunthar said, grimacing. He dropped back to the ground and ripped open his pants leg to clean out the nasty wound Logan has dealt him. “I guess little men have to stick together.”
“I told you not to mention my mother again,” Logan said, his expression cold as ice.
“Oh shut up, ya little ninny,” Gunthar said. “You are lucky they broke it up because I would have killed you. Don’t think this is done. I don’t friggin’ take someone trying to kill me lightly. I will put you in the ground!”
Logan tensed again.
“I said, enough!” Ratchis roared again. “When this is all done you can have at it with swords as much as you like, but until then stay away from one another.”
”He just tried to kill one of your companions and that’s the best you have to offer?” Gunthar complained. “And you call yourselves virtuous men? Virtuous pig-f*ckers? You are the worst kind of hypocrites!” The Neergaardian stood and Kazrack healed him.
“If what you said is true I would not have healed you,” Kazrack said. “But Rivkanal teaches compassion.”
“Whatever you need to believe to feel better about yourself, Stumpy,” Gunthar stood, and picking up his sword, sheathed it. He threw Logan a look that might have killed.
Roland let out an amused mew, while Dorn and Martin stood watching the exchange in shock.
“Logan,” Kazrack said, drawing the Herman-lander away. “If you cannot hold your steel you will have to leave. I want to teach him a lesson as much as you do, but our quest is too important. Kill him later if you must.”
“Perhaps I will leave and rejoin you later,” Logan replied, quietly.
“I wish you would stay,” Kazrack said. “As I said, you can kill him when we are done. It will be all the sweeter for withholding it for so long.”
“I’ll think on it.”
“I’ve often wanted to kill him, too,” Kazrack offered.
“Then why not?”
“We need his sword, and yours as well,” Kazrack said. “Our mission is greater than any of our desires. I want to find a wife, raise a family, forge swords…” The dwarf looked off into the darkness wistfully.
“What? No axes?” Logan said, finally smiling.
“Well, axes, too…”
“I was about to say that would be undwarfly of you.”
“You would not be the first to say so.”
“As if it were so bad if your momma was a whore,” Gunthar grumbled, hobbling along as the Keepers of the Gate continued their forced march through the night a few minutes later. “After my dad stopped sending money, me own Ma took eight or twelve cocks a night and was well-paid for it. And we needed the coin.”
Isilem, the 9nd of Keent – 565 H.E.
Morning found them encumbered by sleeplessness. Step after step they plodded on and twice Ratchis had to double back to whisper in the llama’s ear and soothe it into cooperating. Otherwise it sat and brayed, spitting whenever its rope was pulled on.
“Will this forest ever end?” Logan complained. “At least a road with a roadside tavern. It would be a nice change.”
“Where are you from?” asked Dorn, falling in beside him.
“Teamsburg,” Logan replied.
“Uh-huh, I been there once before,” Dorn mumbled sleepily.
“It has probably changed a lot since your last visit,” Logan smirked. “Half of it burned and the other half rioted. It was beautiful.”
“Eh, at least you got out,” Dorn replied. “And didn’t have to go to war. The first I got whiff of that conscription I came adventuring in Derome-Delem. I figured if I could not be counted I could not be missed.”
“I wouldn’t have had to go to the war. They have a way of losing track of an influential watch-mage’s son’s conscription papers. I mean, my father would have insisted I go, it being ‘fair” and all, but I made sure it was never an issue,” Logan laughed. “Fighting somebody else’s war is sh*te and all, but to run away from war right into certain death? Does that make sense?”
“I could be safely back in Cutter Jack’s and living of the gold Flora and Bones and I found in that old fortress, but Nephthys saved me for a reason, so I mean to help Ratchis as much as possible,” Dorn replied. “But I’m not suicidal either, I still haven’t decided if I am going into Hurgun’s Maze. By all accounts, that place will be no joke.”
“You are going in the wrong direction!” cried a high-pitched voice from up in a tree.
“Yeah!” concurred two more. The three pixies appeared, bending down to look at them with furrowed brows and arms folded across their chests; their wings buzzed angrily.”
“You are going deeper into the forest and will anger the giants and they will smash you!” said the red-headed pixie. “Can’t say you wouldn’t deserve it.”
Everyone stopped and Ratchis took a quick look around and then frowned.
“They are lying,” whispered Martin to the half-orc. “I am certain we are going the right way. I got a decent view when I checked last night.”
Ratchis nodded. He checked the wind and looked up at the sun three times. It burned dully from behind a thin cover of gray that stretched from horizon to horizon. He was certain they still traveled due east.
“Okay, okay! You figured out our trick! We admit it, but still are going to miss talking to Old Man Tree and Mister Rock Man, and they can tell you all about the captured elf-lord that needs your help.”
“Shut up! You said too much!” one of the dark haired pixies smacked the red-headed one in the back of the head and the third one laughed.
“Mister Rock Man is liable to ground them up into little colored pebbles, anyway,” said the red-headed pixie, rubbing his head as he sulked.
“Mister Rock Man? Old Man Tree? Sounds like a fairy tale gone awry,” Logan said.
“Whaddya want? We’re faeries!” the dark-haired pixie on the left squealed angrily.
“Maybe we should go talk to these men,” Martin suggested. “They may have some lore we need.”
“It is likely to be another of their tricks,” Kazrack frowned. “Ignore them.”
“Trick or not, we don’t have time,” Ratchis added.
The tiny kitten on the llama leapt to the ground, its form growing nearly liquid for a moment as it turned into Roland. He was aghast.
“A friar of Nephthys is going to ignore the good possibility of someone is being held captive against their will somewhere in this wood and just go along his merry way?”
“I pray for Nephthys to forgive me,” Ratchis rasped in reply. “I would like nothing better than to look into this and free a captive if it needs to be done, but we have no time. We must be there when the light shines at dawn on that day or else we cannot hope to figure out how to get in Hurgun’s Maze, and if we cannot do that and someone else figures out a way to do so, all of Derome-Delem would be at risk. A choice needs to be made and I have made it.”
“For all of us, it seems,” Roland replied.
“You are free to do as you please,” Ratchis said. “You chose to come along with us.”
“Forgive me, Ratchis. I should not presume to tell you how to honor your goddess,” Roland looked right into Ratchis’ eyes, and then looked down demurely. “I am tired. We have not slept or ate in too long.”
“Ooh! That cat’s got a silver tongue,” said the red-headed pixie.
“Is Old Man Tree a pixie? Is he your leader?” Martin asked.
“No!” all three pixies replied together.
“I’m the leader! said the red-headed one.
“No! I’m the leader,” said the dark-haired one on the right.
“No way! I’m oldest and wisest,” said the third.
“Wisdom is overrated,” said the second.
“Wait. Which of you is the leader? I think from now on we’re only going to talk to the leader,” Martin said.
The pixies fell to arguing among themselves about who was leader once again, and then it devolved into invisible fisticuffs.
“I guess I am not the only one around here with a silver tongue,” Roland winked at Martin.
“Ew! I’ve seen where he puts his tongue, Marty. I don’t think that’s a compliment,” Gunthar snorted when he laughed at his own joke.
”You’d do it too if you could reach,” Roland quipped.
“Heh. You’ll try anything at sea,” Gunthar replied with a grin.
“Enough. Let’s keep going,” Kazrack said.
“To the Old Man Tree?” Two of the pixies were still fighting, but one of the dark-haired ones had extricated himself. “Be careful,” he placed his cupped hand to his mouth and whispered. “The goatfoats are near there and they don’t like men or cats.”
“What is he talking about?” Logan said with a look of skepticism.
“Satyrs. Half-man, part-goat. They like to have sex and hit people with sticks,” Martin replied.
“Ha! You might get some after all!” Gunthar laughed, and Logan shot him a glare.
The party was about to begin their march again. When the pixies called to Kazrack. “Lots of kafka mushrooms grow near there.” (1)
The dwarf’s eyes widened, but then he frowned. “That means there’s a cave near there. Another trick. Unless you’d be willing to go and bring us some.”
“Or Moonless Midnight Mushrooms,” said one of the other pixies, he was sitting atop the head of the red-headed pixie who lay across the thick branch of a tree huffing and puffing.
“What are those?” Kazrack asked.
“Delicious, hallucinogenic and deadly,” Martin answered.
“Where can we find those?” He asked the pixies.
“Go see Mister Rock Man,” replied the red-headed pixie.
“Why do you want those?” Kazrack asked.
“They are very rare and are reputed to have magical properties,” Martin replied.
Logan frowned and looked to Ratchis who snorted his disapproval.
“Is this elf-lord a captive of the witch?” Roland asked the pixies.
“Maybe so,” they replied coyly.
“I say we go free the elf and piss off the witch,” Logan suggested.
“And her guardian,” one of the dark-haired pixies added and then covered his mouth.
“Is Mister Rock Man the guardian?” Roland asked.
“No, it’s the Black Beast,” the red-headed pixie said.
“This gets worse all the time,” Logan said. “Forget the whole thing. Ratchis is right. Let’s go.”
The pixies began to whine and complain.
“They’re leaving the elf-lord to die,” one of the pixies cried.
Kazrack stopped and sighed and looked at Ratchis who had also stopped, and then the dwarf turned to look at the pixies opened his mouth and then closed it again. He scratched at his beard and finally said, “We will go seek out the captured elf-lord if you make an oath to not hinder or harm us along the way.”
The pixies each imitated the dwarf’s mannerisms and finally the dark haired one on the right asked, “Would telling the Goatfeet you were coming count as ‘hindering’?”
Kazrack looked to Martin.
“Satyrs,” was all the watch-mage said.
Kazrack turned back to the pixies, “Yes.”
“Yeah, we can’t promise that,” replied the first.
“Nope. No we can’t,” agreed the second.
”We promise!” said the third, nodding his head vigorously.
“Yes! Yes! We promise!” the first two said, now nodding as well.
Kazrack sighed again, and Ratchis grunted.
Logan grumbled and Gunthar and Roland laughed. Martin only smiled.
“We are leaving,” said Kazrack.
The Keepers of the Gate marched until Ra’s Glory had reached its zenith and then collapsed. The forest was only a shadow behind them.
------------------------------
Hours later at Ratchis’ urging they picked up and moved camp a few leagues to the east, where a steep hill gave way to an even steeper drop on the other side. The Keepers of the Gate made their way to the top and took in the view.
In the far distant, beneath the creeping gloom of evening there was a dull red glow that covered the earth. A stiff warm wind blew across the top of the ridge, and the sky above the glow was black and roiling, at times tongues of what could only be flames shot way up into the air and then shattered into thousands of dying fireflies.
“How far away is that?” Kazrack asked.
“That’s Greenreed Valley, “ Martin replied, solemnly. Ratchis nodded.
There was a long silence.
“Looks like a forest fire,” the half-orc finally said.
“War,” said Logan. “Soldiers burn and pillage.”
“Could it be the neighboring kingdom… the Setites, what is it called?” asked Roland, transforming to his human shape once again.
“Menovia,” answered Ratchis.
“More likely they went to war with the gnomes,” Kazrack said.
“It could be the influence of the Maze. There is a plane of fire,” Martin said. “It is one of the greater Otherworlds…muh-made entirely of fire and molten rock. It could be leaking through to our world. Remember the great many-headed snail we encountered.” (2)
Again there was a long silence as they watched the glow brighten, as the surrounding sky grew dark.
“Was not the temple of Bast in Gothanius right on the border to Greenreed Valley?” Roland asked, already knowing the answer. “We must go there first.”
“We are not going anywhere near there,” said Ratchis.
“What?” Roland’s face looked as if someone had just passed noxious gas.
“We need to find where the beam of light will hit on the ridge and then reflect to show us the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze,” Ratchis replied. “We do not know how long it will take to find the proper spot, and others may be looking for it. We must be careful and let no one know we are back. The temple of Bast is too close to Summit. Someone might see us.”
“It is nearly three weeks before the proper alignment of the sun will occur,” Roland said. “Unless you told me wrong back at Mercy’s house.”
“We don’t know how long it will take to find,” Ratchis said very slowly. “And we cannot afford to meet any distractions along the way. And if the Gothanians have attacked the gnomes I would rather not know, for it would be difficult to ignore that to insure we get into the Maze.”
Roland’s jaw dropped open. “Are you joking, Ratchis?”
“He never jokes,” said Gunthar, laughing.
The Bastite ignored him and continued. “That is a slippery slope you tread on, Ratchis,” he said. “You cannot fool the gods or your own conscience by remaining willfully ignorant.”
Ratchis shrugged his shoulders.
“I am afraid I must insist we go to the temple of my goddess,” Roland continued. “It is my duty to see the place and see what harm has come to it, and it might be a place we can hide and rest until the time comes to enter the Maze.”
“We cannot risk it,” Kazrack said, agreeing with his long-time companion.
Roland’s mouth opened again and he let out a confused sigh that turned into a growl. He looked to Martin the Green, but the watch-mage simply looked down as his own feet silently.
“If it were a dwarven temple threatened by a malevolent force, what then?” Roland asked the dwarf, his voice rising in pitch, as he grew angrier.
“I would still ignore it,” the dwarf replied, solemnly. “The fate of Derome-Delem is more important than a single temple.”
“I may have to go on my own then,” Roland replied, letting the steam out of his demeanor.
“You promised to help us!” Now it was Kazrack’s turn to be angry.
“Enough,” Ratchis sighed. “He must do what his heart tells him, and so must we all, fighting now solves nothing. I see a trail down this ridge that we should be able to use even in this light, and then we’ll make camp.”
The half-orc began the descent, and the others followed, except for Roland who transformed into his panther form and stalked off into the darkness. He did not return to camp until dawn, carrying three small rabbits in his jaws. He ate one raw and whole, and Ratchis undercooked the other two, but the party ate them anyway.
Teflem, the 13th of Keent – 565 H.E.
The next few days they crossed many streams, and many smaller woods of younger trees. The nights were growing colder, but the glow from Greenreed Valley was growing brighter and closer. Less than three days from the valley, ashy breezes would sweep across them every few hours, making their eyes burn and tossing up the dry earth. The trees and plants were all covered in a thin film of gray and everything seemed sickly and dying.
Ratchis and Logan took off to scout ahead, and the others eventually caught up to them where they had found the charred corpses of several gnolls at the base of a scorched tree. Several spots looked like they had been burning for quite some time.
“What could have done this?” Logan asked.
“The dragon?” speculated Kazrack.
”I don’t think so,” Martin replied. Roland crept up, still in his panther form, and sniffed the bodies and then moved quickly away. “Though it certainly looks like a flash fire of some sort.”
“They have spear wounds in addition to their burns,” Ratchis said. “And I found some kind of large bird tracks. Most were ruined by the falling ash and winds, but it was some kind of large bird, maybe five feet tall, long legs, probably flightless.”
Martin the Green shrugged his shoulders. He knew of no creatures that matched that description. Suddenly, he noticed a translucent orb floating near Kazrack, and he knew no one else could see it. (3)
”We are being watched,” Martin hissed.
“Point me towards the foul orb,” Kazrack said, grabbing hold his pouch of runestones, and Martin pointed. “Natan-ahb, I call on you to cast the shadow of the First Mountain across this wicked arcane eye so that it may obscure the vision of our vile foes.”
“Very good,” said Martin when he saw the orb disappear. Kazrack laughed and reaching up clapped Martin on the back.
“Do you think it was Richard?” Kazrack asked.
“Probably.”
“Or Rindalith,” added Ratchis.
That night they camped under some thorny trees that had resisted the various fires they now found signs of every few miles. They did not dare make a fire of their own.
Anulem, the 14th of Keent – 565 H.E.
The next morning they were in a thick wood again, but here the ash was an even thicker blanket on everything, and in places trees still smoked and smoldered, but a consistent rain kept any threat of flames spreading at bay.
The tall ridge wall of Greenreed Valley was visible whenever the clouds parted to let the sunlight through for a moment before sealing it away again. The forest floor banked slightly upwards towards the valley as they approached just slightly south of west.
Ratchis noticed there was no sound of birds or other small animals or insects. There was only the ‘splut’ of fat raindrops in the ash, covering everything in a disgusting black and brackish paste.
Just after noon they walked through an open field marked with low barren trees and an occasional coniferous bush that looked like great motionless gray balls of dust. In some place the trees and bushes were clumped closely together, causing the party to go wide around them, but mostly they were spread fairly widely apart. Much of the landscape was burned here as well.
Ratchis led, as usual, with Logan close behind him. The half-orc stopped and pointed. Logan could see small puffs of smoke appearing from up head on the banked ground. Something approached from the direction of the valley, something moving fairly quickly, but that was low to the ground.
“Stop! Something is coming,” Ratchis raised his hand.
Now they could all see shapes moving through the trees and bushes. At first only a head would be visible for a moment, and then a spearhead hopping up and down for several dozen yards, before disappearing behind a tree or bush. Puffs of smoke and flashes of fire accompanied the quickly arriving creatures.
“We need to hide!” Martin cried.
“Too late,” Kazrack gasped. At least a score of creatures came bursting through the trees charging in their direction. Short squat dull gray reptilian men armored in chainmail were coming. They wore half-helms fitted to their heads with a long folded ridge that protruded from the bottom to protect their snouts. Smoke rose from their nostrils as they snorted and hissed. Many held spears, but also had fierce looking battle-axes hanging on the flanks of their mounts, which they urged on. The mounts were strange beasts, five foot at the shoulder; they had two clawed legs with bird-like taloned feet that carried their awkward bodies forward with great strides. The creatures were covered in fine scales and had long necks that held their misshapen heads low to the ground. They had large eyes with cowl-like ridged lids. Their mouths were like a beak of tortoise shell, and when they squawked small gouts of fire shout out from them.
The strange warriors fell into a two phalanx formations. One group brought the spears down and charged right towards the Keepers of the Gate, while the second turned off to approach from the south, sliding their spears away and drawing their battle axes.
“Form a line! Form a line!” Kazrack cried. Gunthar cursed and dragged the llama into some thick brush, hoping it might be safe there for a time.
End of Session #76
----------------------------------
Notes:
(1) Kafka is a coffee like beverage made from steeped subterranean mushrooms. It is common to dwarves and gnomes.
(2) The dire flaming flail snail. (see session #18)
(3) DM’s Note: At this point Martin was casting Detect Scrying (which lasts 24 hours) everyday at noon.
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el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
So I was halfway through Session #87 when the boards went ka-blooey and kicked us all the way back to the middle of Session #76.
I just post the second part of #76 and will endeavor to post two or three a day ending with brand new post concluding Session #87 to be followed by Commentary for Sessions #82 through #87.
I just post the second part of #76 and will endeavor to post two or three a day ending with brand new post concluding Session #87 to be followed by Commentary for Sessions #82 through #87.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Commentary on Sessions #73 thru #76
The last two installments I put up are the perfect example of PCs just ignoring adventure hooks.
Well, not really ignoring because I must commend them on their role-playing the discussion of the moral ramifications and the physical consequenes of their just going along doing what they have to do, but I did dangle bait in front of them several times with Anarie's strange behavior and the hints the pixies were dropping, and the players knew it.
But they also knew that I am more than willing to play out the consequences of any of their choices and if they are late arriving at the valley it may play it very badly for them. . . So, just like in real life, they could not know what would happen one way or another, they just had to make the best choice they could. There will be many more hard choices before the campaign ends.
As I knew that at this point we were heading to the end of the campaign, this adventure they skipped was an attempt to give some kind of resolution to the drow witch sub-plot - nowhere near perfect and ultimate resolution, but something satisfying they could take with them into the final sessions of the game - but that was not to happen. Again, I totally understand why the PCs/players made the decisions they did - you can't get something for nothing in Aquerra - and I will always run this setting that way.
But I can't reveal any of the secrets they may have learned if they had sought out the captured elf-lord or followed Anarie or questioned her more closely, or were taken before the fir-bolg chieftain, as these will remain undiscovered for some future campaign, perhaps. . .
Other things I can reveal.
In session #73, the ruined giant houses on the bluff revealed a group of inbred giants of incredible stupidity and great ferocity. The site was the ruins of an ancient fire giant kingdom that once stretched over large portion of Derome-Delem in the Second Age - and the party would have found some interesting old artifacts from that culture that would have been very valuable and some lore carved in walls that Martin might have liked - but in terms of the overarching plot of the campaign - there was nothing there.
The wyvern lair would have been an interesting encounter as well, there was a nest of baby wyverns there that would have been a nasty fight. If the wyvern had spotted someone it would have scooped him up and brought him back to the lair for the young precipitating the PCs going after him (I assume). I always love rescues. Luck and quick-thinking got them past that without confrontation.
The gathering of orcs of Ratchis' (in sessions #73 and #74), however, did have something to do with the overall plot, and was meant to do two things: 1) remind the PCs about the dragon, and 2) foreshadow something that will occur in another eight sessions or so. Again, this was an opportunity to learn something, but also an opportunity to be delayed or even killed - so there was a choice there for the PCs and they continued to make the same one.
The troll in session #74 was just there to break up the monotony of the trip, but the dead gnomes and the things found in the troll lair was meant as a clue to the nearby gnome community (called Grozny), which is where the party discovered they were being scried by not one, but three people. One of those orbs was from the gnomes, but the other two? Well, let's just say one was Richard the Red. . .the other I will leave a mystery. And the hallucinatory terrain was theirs as well.
The gnome community was supposed to be a place for the PCs to rest, gain information about the area and pick up some young dwarven followers for Kazrack. Orphans who had been raised by the gnomes but were ready to go out in the world. Obviously, this never happened - but the campaign would certainly be different at this point if it had.
The dwarven fortress was to serve several purposes. It was a place Kazrack could drop off those dwarven orphans (if he had picked them up), or cull them so he only had those followers he wanted. It was to show that the dwarves the party had once traveled with had arrived safely to Abarrane-Abaruch, and to introduce another political component to the overarching plot - i.e. the benefits/dangers of having a gathering legion of dwarves just west of Greenreed Valley. Interestingly, Kazrack never mentioned this aspect of the fortress' function to the rest of the PCs. To this day they have no idea of the lingering threat to the peace that is nearby.
Oh, and I nearly forgot Roland. Since Roland's player went missing for three or four sessions in a row and I was not sure if he would be coming back I had him disappear, and when we finally straightened out his attendance problem and was going to come back, the dwarven fortress provided the perfect place for that to happen. Sure, there was a chance the party might not want him back and then the player would have needed to make a new character, I guess.
When Logan attacked Gunthar in session #76, he caught him flat-footed (i.e. sneak attack damage) and scored a crit. Gunthar went from full hit points to being critically injured in two hits. It is unlikely that he would have prevailed over Logan if the others had not broken up the fight. In the next session or so, Gunthar will go off on his own (at least temporarily), which I did because he needed to deal with his powder for his Can-On, but also from a meta-game point of view I did not want Logan's player to be stuck in this tense situation all the time that strained his relationship with the other PCs - so I figured a break (perhaps even a permanent one) was in order - esp. since PCs should get the benefit over NPCs in these kinds of situations.
Happy New Year Everybody!
I think in this coming year I plan to write more of these commentaries every few installments or so. . and may go back and do some overviews of the whole campaign, or at least sets of sessions.
The last two installments I put up are the perfect example of PCs just ignoring adventure hooks.
Well, not really ignoring because I must commend them on their role-playing the discussion of the moral ramifications and the physical consequenes of their just going along doing what they have to do, but I did dangle bait in front of them several times with Anarie's strange behavior and the hints the pixies were dropping, and the players knew it.
But they also knew that I am more than willing to play out the consequences of any of their choices and if they are late arriving at the valley it may play it very badly for them. . . So, just like in real life, they could not know what would happen one way or another, they just had to make the best choice they could. There will be many more hard choices before the campaign ends.
As I knew that at this point we were heading to the end of the campaign, this adventure they skipped was an attempt to give some kind of resolution to the drow witch sub-plot - nowhere near perfect and ultimate resolution, but something satisfying they could take with them into the final sessions of the game - but that was not to happen. Again, I totally understand why the PCs/players made the decisions they did - you can't get something for nothing in Aquerra - and I will always run this setting that way.
But I can't reveal any of the secrets they may have learned if they had sought out the captured elf-lord or followed Anarie or questioned her more closely, or were taken before the fir-bolg chieftain, as these will remain undiscovered for some future campaign, perhaps. . .
Other things I can reveal.
In session #73, the ruined giant houses on the bluff revealed a group of inbred giants of incredible stupidity and great ferocity. The site was the ruins of an ancient fire giant kingdom that once stretched over large portion of Derome-Delem in the Second Age - and the party would have found some interesting old artifacts from that culture that would have been very valuable and some lore carved in walls that Martin might have liked - but in terms of the overarching plot of the campaign - there was nothing there.
The wyvern lair would have been an interesting encounter as well, there was a nest of baby wyverns there that would have been a nasty fight. If the wyvern had spotted someone it would have scooped him up and brought him back to the lair for the young precipitating the PCs going after him (I assume). I always love rescues. Luck and quick-thinking got them past that without confrontation.
The gathering of orcs of Ratchis' (in sessions #73 and #74), however, did have something to do with the overall plot, and was meant to do two things: 1) remind the PCs about the dragon, and 2) foreshadow something that will occur in another eight sessions or so. Again, this was an opportunity to learn something, but also an opportunity to be delayed or even killed - so there was a choice there for the PCs and they continued to make the same one.
The troll in session #74 was just there to break up the monotony of the trip, but the dead gnomes and the things found in the troll lair was meant as a clue to the nearby gnome community (called Grozny), which is where the party discovered they were being scried by not one, but three people. One of those orbs was from the gnomes, but the other two? Well, let's just say one was Richard the Red. . .the other I will leave a mystery. And the hallucinatory terrain was theirs as well.
The gnome community was supposed to be a place for the PCs to rest, gain information about the area and pick up some young dwarven followers for Kazrack. Orphans who had been raised by the gnomes but were ready to go out in the world. Obviously, this never happened - but the campaign would certainly be different at this point if it had.
The dwarven fortress was to serve several purposes. It was a place Kazrack could drop off those dwarven orphans (if he had picked them up), or cull them so he only had those followers he wanted. It was to show that the dwarves the party had once traveled with had arrived safely to Abarrane-Abaruch, and to introduce another political component to the overarching plot - i.e. the benefits/dangers of having a gathering legion of dwarves just west of Greenreed Valley. Interestingly, Kazrack never mentioned this aspect of the fortress' function to the rest of the PCs. To this day they have no idea of the lingering threat to the peace that is nearby.
Oh, and I nearly forgot Roland. Since Roland's player went missing for three or four sessions in a row and I was not sure if he would be coming back I had him disappear, and when we finally straightened out his attendance problem and was going to come back, the dwarven fortress provided the perfect place for that to happen. Sure, there was a chance the party might not want him back and then the player would have needed to make a new character, I guess.
When Logan attacked Gunthar in session #76, he caught him flat-footed (i.e. sneak attack damage) and scored a crit. Gunthar went from full hit points to being critically injured in two hits. It is unlikely that he would have prevailed over Logan if the others had not broken up the fight. In the next session or so, Gunthar will go off on his own (at least temporarily), which I did because he needed to deal with his powder for his Can-On, but also from a meta-game point of view I did not want Logan's player to be stuck in this tense situation all the time that strained his relationship with the other PCs - so I figured a break (perhaps even a permanent one) was in order - esp. since PCs should get the benefit over NPCs in these kinds of situations.
Happy New Year Everybody!
I think in this coming year I plan to write more of these commentaries every few installments or so. . and may go back and do some overviews of the whole campaign, or at least sets of sessions.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #77 (complete)
“Maaaw!” cried Fearless, not living up to his name, as Gunthar hurried back out of the brush, with a javelin drawn, readying for when the strange draconic creatures came into range. The llama was deep in some thorny bushes.
“Use the trees for cover so that can’t charge right into you!” Ratchis advised, and then calling to his goddess cast a spell on Roland to help him resist heat and fire. Roland, who was actually in human form for a change, his chain shirt jangling over his fine clothes, called to his goddess to grant him divine power.
“Lorca Magica!” Martin chanted, casting Mage Armor on himself.
Dorn fired a crossbow bolt at the lead creature, but the bolt went wide and he scrambled behind a tree to stay near Martin as he reloaded.
Gunthar let loose with his javelin, but it landed short and skittered away harmlessly. He drew his swords.
Frightened of the fire-breathing creatures charging at them, Roland took the time to protect himself even further, as the first of the creatures came upon them. He moved to the back of the group, ducking behind a thorny bush as he loaded his crossbow.
Logan has been waiting patiently, and as one charged him he side-stepped and brought his sword across the flank of the reptile mount. It cawed and coughed, as steaming blood exploded from its wound. Logan cried out alarmed.
Gunthar batted away the bite of one of the beaky mouthed mounts, but grunted as his chain shirt turned away a heavy blow from the rider’s spear. He ignored the rider and chopped at the mount, scoring a deep wound in its neck, but its scaly hide turned away most of his short sword blow.
Kazrack roared as the beak of one of the mounts crunched into the black greave of his plate mail, drawing blood. He pried the thing loose with the blade of his halberd, cracking its beak, and then brought the pole arm around to graze the head of the rider, who reared up his mount.
“I will knock you from your saddle,” Kazrack swore.
“Logan! Protect my flank,” Ratchis commanded, pointing to his left with his great sword as he marched into the fray. “Dorn! Protect Martin!”
“Lentus!” Martin chanted, and four of the strange fire-breathing reptile-birds slowed down as their riders cursed them in their hissing language. One of the rider’s hissing was slowed down as well, and his spear waved back and forth as if he were carrying a flag instead.
One of the riders noticed Roland and charged at him. The Bastite let his bolt fly and it caught the rider in the helmet, but it kept on coming. The two-legged mount reared at a command from its rider and spat a ball of flame that engulfed the bush. Roland was barely able to leap away, swatting at his clothing with a free hand.
Woosh! And then, woosh, again! The monstrous mounts breathed out flame and soon there was a ring of fire leaping from tree to bush, penning the Keepers of the Gate in.
There was another grunt from Kazrack as the creatures that were coming from the right flank arrived. He felt the bite of a battle-axe against his helm and nearly lost his footing, but instead he swung around and finished the first one that fell upon him, and its mount took off in fear.
Ratchis felt the bite of a spear as he charged a rider that was charging him. Grimacing through the pain, he cleft the rider in twain and then sent the giant striding lizard-bird on it way with nasty chop to the face.
“Ah! Ha!” Gunthar cried with joy as he chopped down the rider in front of him, taking a moment to shove his long sword through its face to make sure it was dead.
“Lentus!” Martin chanted again, and now two more riders were slowed, along with one of the arriving mounts.
Kazrack turned away from a breath of flame directed at his side, and cleaved another rider off of his mount, and then stabbed another as his mount came in to bite. The dwarf ducked.
“Krauchaar! I dedicate to you this song of snapping bone and rending sinew!” the dwarf praised his gods as he fought.
Gunthar cursed, cutting into the now riderless mount before him, as it bit him in the hip, where his chain shirt did not provide much protection. Everyone’s eyes began to water from the smoky air, as soot settled on their faces, blackening them. The thing turned and ran, and Gunthar gave chase, being brought into the midst of three of the battle-axe wielding reptilian-riders.
“Chop! Chop!” He cried, giddily, and he slashed all three of them and leaping, turned around to wait for them to awkwardly bring their mounts to face him. “I got enough of this for all of you!”
Logan leapt back smiling to avoid the bite of one of the bird-things, and it stumbled, tumbling over and dropping its mount. Ratchis side-stepped and chopped an arm off the prone rider, and then brought the point of his sword through its chest. Logan chopped through the mounts long neck with his long sword.
Martin hurried about a flaming tree as he saw one of the riders charging in his direction, and bumped right into the spear of another. He cried out and a shaft of green and black flame engulfed him, as he felt the cold pull of the Book of Black Circles on his soul, tempting him to use its power to snuff out all of these fire-breathing lizardmen at once. The green flame shot up the creature’s spear and he was burned by the cold fire. His corpse smoked like a block of dry ice.
The combat grew more chaotic, as the stomping of the party’s feet and the great strides of the reptile-bird-beasts stirred up a cloud of ash that obscured everyone’s vision. Only Martin’s infernal mantle of flame broke through the haze. The ashen ground, already swollen by rain, became a huge puddle of blood-soaked muck, with dying mounts flailing and screeching in the darkness of the cloud. Branches burned and fell, and hissed, and the creatures were coming in from all sides.
Dorn dropped his crossbow unable to get a shot and drew his sword, cutting wildly as a mounted opponent rode past him. He felt the deep bite of an axe to the back of his neck, and only the steel collar he wore connected to his chain shirt saved his life. He fell to the ground, and began to desperately crawl away.
“And you! And you!” Gunthar said, cutting down two riders and coughing, wiping his eyes as he tried to get a good look at his next target.
Logan sent a rider’s axe, hand and all, flying high in to the air, and he sliced its neck open as it fell. A stab to the flank sent the mount running.
Ratchis roared as he swung his great sword back and forth wildly, cutting down riders and mounts alike, as they tore at him with axe and beak. Kazrack sent one rider sliding through the muck as he cut the mount out from under him, and Roland smashed the thing’s head open with his light mace.
A strong wind blew the cloud low for a few moments, and Kazrack could see Logan chopping at two mounts that hissed and bit at him.
“Logan! Leave the mounts and they may leave you be!” the dwarf cried, and then his advice became a cry of agony as a still ridden beast ripped into the side of his face, sending his helmet flying off. The dwarf spun around and blocked the next bite and then sent the rider toppling to the ground, bleeding profusely from his chest.
Afraid to cast anymore spells, Martin the Green drew his dagger and began to move through the combat stabbing at riders when he could reach them. Dorn followed at a safe distance, having gotten back on his feet, working to keep two or more from surrounding the watch-mage.
Ratchis whacked the head off of a mount and sent its riders spilling to the ground. He looked up and noticed a group of four of the creatures bringing their mounts around to flee.
“They are trying to get away!” Ratchis called. “They may bring more to their aid.”
Without a word, Roland’s form melted and elongated as his arms became tight muscled fore-legs and his nose and mouth stretched out to a snout as his teeth grew long and sharp. In a moment, his black leonine form was hustling through the ash and mayhem to give chase to those that fled. His strong panther legs tearing up the ground beneath him as he deftly avoided tree, stone and flame in his pursuit.
Roland leapt high into the air, and then fell upon a rider. The rider, mount and panther collapsed into a tumbling ball of chaos. The mount awkwardly leapt back to its feet and fled, while Roland held the reptilian man down with his jaw and ripped out its back and legs with deep rakes of his rear claws. He roared with delight and then went charging after the next one.
Roland looked back as the dust cleared from the second rider he felled to see his companions mopping up the few that were left several hundred feet back. Two more mounts were heading back east, riderless. He turned and saw the riders he pursued disappear around a low hill, and decided against continuing.
“Did any get away?” Roland bobbed his panther head up and down and patted the ground twice with his paw.
“Two?” Ratchis held up two fingers.
Roland bobbed his head up and down some more.
Ratchis shook his head. He stopped to call to Nephthys to close his many wounds, and Kazrack did the same for himself as he eyed Martin suspiciously. The glow from the mantle of green and black flame rose high into the cloudy sky.
Kazrack dropped his halberd and drew his flail, and began to walk steadily towards the watch-mage. Alarmed, Dorn loaded his crossbow which he had just picked up and pointed it towards the dwarf.
“Ratchis! Kazrack is going to attack Martin!” Dorn warned.
Logan looked back and forth unsure of what to do, and Roland simply stood there. Ratchis whipped around and ran between them, and then turned to Martin.
“Martin, I think…”
“If he is possessed…” Kazrack began.
“I’m fine,” said Martin, and the mantle disappeared without a sound. Kazrack’s grip tightened around the handle of his flail.
“It is like a rush when it comes over me,” Martin explained. “I can feel it creep in as I am focused on casting a spell, but once it happens I can fight it and I only needed to will it away for the flames to disappear.”
“You should have done it sooner,” Ratchis said.
“I only just now realized that I could do that,” Martin said. “Before I was kind of busy.”
“What’s the matter with your face?” Kazrack asked, fear and disgust growing on the edge of his bass voice.
“Whatever do you mean?” Martin brought his hand to his face and winced. The flesh around his eye was tender, and he felt the skin crumble to the touch. He hurried into his pack for a silver mirror and then dropped it. The flesh around his right eye was gray and drying up, as if dead tissue. There was blackened vein near the surface on that side of his face, and his eye was yellowed.
He slumped to the ground and his head drooped. He let a sob escape and then he choked it back.
Logan looked to Ratchis who just shook his head and looked down.
There was little of value on the fire-breathing reptile men, so the Keepers of the Gate left them to the crows and hurried southeast, hoping to escape any further pursuit. Logan suggested tracking the escaped creatures back to their camp and bringing the fight to them, but he was voted down.
There were no visible stars when they finally dropped to the ground to sleep under some bushes that seemed to have survived the many fires in the area. Ash and smoke were everywhere here within a league of the valley wall, and it burned when they breathed in.
“I think tomorrow I’m gonna go bring Fearless to where I stashed the can-on,” Gunthar said as he spread out his bedroll beside the hobbled llama. “Debo’s supposed to meet me there, and I want to check on it, make sure everything is set for the plan. I should be back in three or four days. Unless you wanna come with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ratchis grunted.
“I can do what I want!” Gunthar spat.
“I meant us coming with you,” Ratchis replied.
“Oh. Yeah, right… Uh, okay,” Gunthar said, laying down.
“But before you leave in the morning, let’s choose a place to meet up in that time,” Ratchis said.
Ralem, the 15th of Keent – 565 H.E.
The rain of the day before gave way and the clouds melted away to the west. The sun came down in hot streams of gold, and glowed against the steel of more clouds in the southeast roiling up slowly in their direction. It was a muggy day that found Gunthar moaning that Ratchis was leading him far from the direction he needed to go in order to meet up with Debo and get to where the can-on was stashed. But Ratchis insisted that the place they meet had to be closer to where the sun’s light would hit the ridge and reveal the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze. The plan was to find the spot and then camp somewhere it could be watched from and wait the two weeks for the proper day.
“Two weeks!” Roland complained, as they marched into the shadow of Greenreed Valley’s ridge. The trees here were also scorched in many places, but this was an old and thicker wood and some of the biggest trees had resisted lighting up. There was still ash over everything, giving the woods the illusion of a winter’s day. “We should go to a town and find out what has been going on in your absence. What was this town called? The one near the temple of Bast? Summit? We should go there. If those fire-breathing things are here in force they surely would have attacked the town.”
“If they have, I don’t want to know about it,” Ratchis replied.
Gunthar snorted and Kazrack frowned, but then the dwarf nodded as if in grudging agreement.
“If they attacked, then it is too late to prevent it,” Ratchis continued. “All we would be doing is leaving a convenient trail for Richard or Rindalith or whoever to find. They would expect us to go to Summit. Richard has found us there more than once.”
“Slippery slope!” Gunthar whooped and laughed.
“What? Ratchis looked at the Neergaardian.
“Slippery slope! The Pussy said it the other day,” Gunthar explained, and jerked a thumb back to Roland, who was fuming. The Neergaardian never lost his smile. “You slide right down that sh*te-covered slope until you end up just like the friggin’ people you claim to hate. Sure is easy to be good when you can be conveniently ignorant, isn’t pig-
er?”
Ratchis growled.
“For a moment there, Gunthar you nearly sounded like you had a point,” Kazrack said. “But you wouldn’t pretend to have a conscience.”
“That’s my point Stumpy, I don’t hafta pretend,” Gunthar laughed. “I don’t got one. I’ll tell ya right to your face that I stuck my tallywhacker right in a dwarf whore’s mouth to feel her beard itch my balls!” He let out another high laugh and actually stopped to slap his knee, smiling broadly at the memory of it. “You know what to expect from me. You don’t need a conscience when you are a virtuous man like I am.”
“You don’t make any sense,” Kazrack replied.
“Maybe not to dwarves,” Roland put his two coppers in.
“This here tree looks as good as any,” Gunthar said, pointing randomly. “We’ll meet here in four days.”
He began to pull the llama back in the opposite direction.
“Wait!” Ratchis held up a hand. “What if you are followed or caught? You know too much.”
“I had not considered that,” Kazrack frowned. “You could be tortured.”
“Are you saying I’d talk?” Gunthar laughed. “What kind of torture could they give me that’s worse than marching back and forth through the wilderness with you guys?”
“Anyway, all they’d have to do is pay him,” Logan said. His hand was on the hilt of his sword.
“Ha! There isn’t enough money in all of Derome-Delem!” Gunthar boasted. “Like I said, I am a virtuous man.”
“Could we not at least go see the elves?” Roland interjected jumping back in topic. “They would want to know that there was an elf captive back there.”
”Arion,” Ratchis replied.
“Huh?”
“Arion, the elf-lord,” the half-orc croaked, looking down. “I was thinking who the captive the pixies mentioned might have been and it only makes sense that it was Arion. Despite what you think, having to abandon him to captivity weighs heavily on me.”
“If Anarie is possessed by one of the drow witches then Aze Nuquerna may have already fallen,” Martin speculated glumly.
“She may not be possessed,” Kazrack said. “She may be charmed, or has deliberately turned to evil.”
“Anarie would never do that,” Martin shot back.
“Who knows with elves? They have gone back on their word before. History is full of examples,” the dwarf said.
“Once you have decided where we are going to camp I will transform and seek out the temple of Bast,” Roland stately flatly. “Probably on the morrow.”
Ratchis got Gunthar to accompany them another league, so they were just south of where they thought the spot they were looking for was up on the ridge.
Along the way, Martin the Green spotted the tell-tale translucent sensor of the party being scryed upon. Stopping to close his eyes, once again the image of Richard the Red peering into a crystal ball while sitting on some cracked stone floor washed before his eyes. Once again Richard looked up and smiled, and the vision disappeared with the sensor.
“I saw it right as it appeared,” Martin said. “He didn’t see or hear anything of value.”
“This time…” Ratchis muttered.
And so it was time for Gunthar to leave.
“Don’t cry or nuthin’,” the Neergaardian smirked, as he led Fearless away. Martin hurried over and gave the llama a scratch on the side of the head.
“Hey! Little man!” Gunthar called when he was only about forty feet away. “Don’t forget me! I know your momma won’t!”
“Sleep light!” Logan warned, and he pulled his sword half way from his scabbard and patted the blade with the other hand.
Gunthar flicked two fingers in the Neergaardian Lordly Salute, and was off. (1)
While the others waited at the base of the ridge, Ratchis climbed up the steep incline and took a look around. The top was much as he remembered it. There were some trees and shrubs that could act as cover, but mostly the uneven ground and standing stones could help them disguise their movement. Back to the west the thicker woods atop of the ridge began; further to the east the vegetation was even sparser and the ground rockier for miles until the ridge looped around and got close to where the village of Summit sat upon it.
The half-orc ranger lowered a rope and helped the others up the ridge, one by one. That is, except for Roland who changed to panther form and scrabbled up the side on his own.
They took a moment to look into the eastern valley, wiping their faces as smoke came billowing up out of what was once a verdant field beyond. Instead, there was a great rent in the earth, and in the few places where grass and trees still seemed to be, flames were weaving in and out consuming them. Beneath the crack was a dull red glow. The smoke was too thick to see Summit. The western portion of the valley, though ash covered, still seemed untouched. It was more wooded and had uneven ground.
Ratchis led his companions back towards the more wooded area atop the ridge, where some fallen logs made even more cover from the valley side. They began to make camp as Roland crawled back out onto the bare part of the ridge after taking a look at Martin’s map. He prowled around for nearly two hours and then came back. He had found nothing out of the ordinary. Dejected, he crawled under some brush and napped.
Logan stood to go out and look, but Ratchis put a hand on his arm.
“Rest,” the half-orc said. “In a few hours, those clouds will come in. It will be cooler and darker, easier to hide. Go out looking then.”
Logan nodded.
After an hour they shook off their sluggishness and gathered to share some rations and talk over their plan. Roland just lay at their feet, tongue lolling out onto the ground.
“Before we risk exposing ourselves by searching for a sign of where this is going to happen, we should try to get a look around and see who might see us,” Ratchis said.
“There is no one around for miles it seems,” said Kazrack.
“Someone up on the higher portions of the ridge, or out across the way who gets a flash of sun off of your armor, they might see us and come looking to see who we are,” Ratchis reasoned.
“Fine. I’m too shiny. We’ll send Roland,” Kazrack said.
“I can use my arcane eye to scout around the valley some,” Martin said. “It has quite a range.”
It was agreed.
It took ten minutes of chanting and rubbing bat fur on his face, but then Martin was ready.
With a word and a wave of his arms, Martin’s green robes swelled out and transformed into the ash-dulled sheen of reptilian scales. A heavy tail fell out from between his leg and wings sprouted from his widened shoulder blades. For a moment he was Tanweil, or some close approximation, but then he disappeared. Invisible, took off for a few moments freedom.
The eye skirted invisibly along the valley floor, passing crisped corpses of men and animals. He caught a glimpse of the camp of the fire-breathing reptile men, and saw they were fighting among themselves. Figuring he could not glean much from watching the strange men, he sent the eye zooming across the valley floor and up the ridge to the west, his eye caught by a flash of white. Here the ridge splayed out into ever-widening plateaus like giant steps down to the sunken floor of the western valley. It was a place marked on his maps as ‘the Amphitheatre’. The top of the ridge was the highest point in the west, and trees were the least spoilt or burnt there. They were thick, and there was even still some green showing amid the gray.
There was a camp up there at the top of the Amphitheatre. Cleverly hidden as to not be seen from below or from the ridge, but to an invisible eye whizzing about the trees it was clear as day. There was nearly a dozen tents set up beneath trees, with branches and brush moved around them to grant some camouflage. There were platforms in the trees connected by planks creating something of a perimeter. And on those platforms, and amid those tents stalked men in dark cloaks, in simple woolen clothing of black and bronze, their heads shaved save for one tuft or braid. Some even had their eyebrows shaved off, most wore sandals, but some were barefoot.
Monks.
The ones walking the perimeter carried spears. Martin sent the eye deeper in the camp, hurriedly trying to get a count of how many monks were here before his spell expired. He had gotten to nearly twenty-seven when he noted a larger pavilion tent atop a rise in the ridge. Just within, were stacked several footlockers, and the top was filled with scrolls that spilled out. The watch-mage sent the eye around the flap and there he saw a squat man poring through scrolls. He wore a robe and sandals. His head was shaved, but gray stubble was growing back in, and his face was a lattice of whip marks, his eyes swollen and disfigured, and his nose askew from several breaks. His lower lip was torn, pierced by a weighted spike of metal that curved back into the mouth.
The spell ended.
Martin the Green swooped over the valley once more. He saw more reptile men, these with plate mail made of a strange red ore, running down ones that looked similar to those the Keepers of the Gate had fought the day before.
He returned and told the others what he saw.
“But isn’t that around where the beam of light is going to hit?” Kazrack asked. He pointed in the vague direction of the amphitheatre. “Over there?”
“Yes,” replied Ratchis. “They must be seeking a way into Hurgun’s Maze to try and talk to Anubis.”
“The scrolls might have been old records or accounts of Hurgun,” Martin said. “He must be trying to narrow down even further where the entrance to the Maze once was.”
“Seems like he’s narrowed it down pretty well,” Logan commented. ”We may need to deal with them.”
“No, we wait,” Ratchis said. “It is nearly cloudy enough for you to go out and look. Occupy yourself with that.”
Martin coughed twice loudly.
Everyone looked at the watch-mage and he gestured over near Kazrack with his head.
“Yes, we should definitely attack the reptile men,” he said, too loudly and nodded.
“Whatever is the matter with you?” Kazrack asked.
“Richard is watching us again,” Martin sighed. “I was hoping we could feed him a fake story, but then I realized I could never get you all on the same page without saying anything.”
“On the same page as what? Did we write something down for us to say when Richard is watching?” Kazrack asked.
Logan and Dorn laughed.
“He is still watching,” Martin hissed.
“Why didn’t you say so!?” the dwarf yelled.
“Quiet!” Ratchis hissed. “Voices can carry across the valley even if the smoke obscures vision. We don’t need more than Richard to know where we are.”
“Well, before he knew we were in some wood, now he knows we are near the valley,” Kazrack replied.
“Shut up!” Ratchis barked.
“I’m going,” Logan said, and he snuck out to the east as the light of Ra’s Glory faded. The clouds had arrived before sunset, offering enough shade to lessen his chance of being spotted. A soft rain fell and the whole valley seemed to hiss. The eastern portion was obscured by a cloud of smoke as tall as the sky itself. He searched for a couple of hours, and the only thing he could find of note was a deposit of mica out in a particularly barren area. The stones there were uneven and clumps of the shiny mineral seemed to face each other in lines going from southeast to southwest.
He made his way back.
--------------------------------
Roland yelped as a moment seemed to stretch out before him as the world faded to black, save for a pinprick of gold that seemed very distant. A woman’s voice emerged from it, “Roland, it is Norena. At temple, near Summit with Richard. Promises you all safe passage to leave, but wants you to come see him here. ” And suddenly he knew he could reply and that the strange drawn moment would be gone. “We will come,” he said.
“The sensor’s gone,” Martin announced.
“Rowr!” Roland said, getting up and moving towards Ratchis. “Rowr! Rowr!”
Ratchis looked at the panther and scrunched up his face.
“Rowr!” Roland said again and threw his heavy forepaws on the half-orc’s stomach, knocking him back a half step. “Rowr-whurr!”
“What the hell is the matter? Get off! Wait a second,” the half-orc clutched the scored chain he wore around his waist and called to Nephthys.
“What is it?” he asked Roland again, and the panther understood. To everyone else, Ratchis was snorting and grunting.
“Is that orcish?” Kazrack asked Martin, frowning.
“No, he can speak with animals,” Martin said. “It is a boon of his goddess.”
Thomas leapt down onto Martin’s shoulder from a nearby tree branch.
“He is talking some kind of cat language?” the squirrel chattered in Martin’s mind. “Can he speak squirrel?”
“Yes, I can,” Ratchis answered for himself, smiling. “How are you?”
“Tired and hungry. How do you think?” Thomas snipped back. “Can you speak dog, too?”
“Yes,” replied Ratchis.
“Dogs are dumb,” Thomas quipped and he leapt down to the ground to sniff at Roland.
Roland explained about the sending to Ratchis, who relayed it to the others.
“Why would she work with Richard?” Kazrack asked. “I thought this cat goddess of your was a good god.”
“Richard may have her charmed,” Ratchis offered. “We know he has used charm before.”
“It is a trick. We should not go,” said Kazrack. “Ignore it.”
Roland transformed to his human shape in a sudden angry blast, his voice cracking.
“Are you saying I should ignore a charmed priestess of Bast being controlled by a mage in a desecrated temple of our goddess?” the Bastite was agog. “What the hell are you thinking? What if it was a dwarf priest?”
“We have decided…” the dwarf began.
“We should go,” interjected Ratchis.
Kazrack did a double-take.
“The point of not going anywhere was for no one to know we were here,” Ratchis explained. “It is too late now. But…”
Ratchis stopped and turned to Martin.
“If it comes to conflict with Richard, we can count on your aid, right?” the half-orc asked the watch-mage.
Martin scratched his chin and then looked down and then looked up.
“If at all possible we should take him alive, if it comes to that. I have an obligation to return him to the Academy to face the masters,” Martin said. “But I believe he is summoning us because he has recruited other adventurers to his cause and hopes to enter the Maze with them, and maybe hopes to form an alliance with us.”
“How long are we going to go on trusting him?” Kazrack asked, disgusted.
“He is good-intentioned, if nothing else,” Martin replied. “It might be that an alliance would work for us.”
“We should vote,” suggested Ratchis.
“We should not go,” said Kazrack.
“You know where I stand,” said Roland.
Martin hesitated and then said, “I think we should go.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Logan said, coming back into camp. “Where we going?”
“A temple of Bast where one of our enemies awaits us,” Kazrack said, sourly.
“Oh, then definitely, I want to go,” Logan replied.
“That settles it,” said Ratchis. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
End of Session #77
------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) Flicking up two fingers with the back of the hand towards the target of the insult derived during the Abeodan-Termermean War in the Fourth Age. (see http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Neergaardian+Lordly+Salute)
“Maaaw!” cried Fearless, not living up to his name, as Gunthar hurried back out of the brush, with a javelin drawn, readying for when the strange draconic creatures came into range. The llama was deep in some thorny bushes.
“Use the trees for cover so that can’t charge right into you!” Ratchis advised, and then calling to his goddess cast a spell on Roland to help him resist heat and fire. Roland, who was actually in human form for a change, his chain shirt jangling over his fine clothes, called to his goddess to grant him divine power.
“Lorca Magica!” Martin chanted, casting Mage Armor on himself.
Dorn fired a crossbow bolt at the lead creature, but the bolt went wide and he scrambled behind a tree to stay near Martin as he reloaded.
Gunthar let loose with his javelin, but it landed short and skittered away harmlessly. He drew his swords.
Frightened of the fire-breathing creatures charging at them, Roland took the time to protect himself even further, as the first of the creatures came upon them. He moved to the back of the group, ducking behind a thorny bush as he loaded his crossbow.
Logan has been waiting patiently, and as one charged him he side-stepped and brought his sword across the flank of the reptile mount. It cawed and coughed, as steaming blood exploded from its wound. Logan cried out alarmed.
Gunthar batted away the bite of one of the beaky mouthed mounts, but grunted as his chain shirt turned away a heavy blow from the rider’s spear. He ignored the rider and chopped at the mount, scoring a deep wound in its neck, but its scaly hide turned away most of his short sword blow.
Kazrack roared as the beak of one of the mounts crunched into the black greave of his plate mail, drawing blood. He pried the thing loose with the blade of his halberd, cracking its beak, and then brought the pole arm around to graze the head of the rider, who reared up his mount.
“I will knock you from your saddle,” Kazrack swore.
“Logan! Protect my flank,” Ratchis commanded, pointing to his left with his great sword as he marched into the fray. “Dorn! Protect Martin!”
“Lentus!” Martin chanted, and four of the strange fire-breathing reptile-birds slowed down as their riders cursed them in their hissing language. One of the rider’s hissing was slowed down as well, and his spear waved back and forth as if he were carrying a flag instead.
One of the riders noticed Roland and charged at him. The Bastite let his bolt fly and it caught the rider in the helmet, but it kept on coming. The two-legged mount reared at a command from its rider and spat a ball of flame that engulfed the bush. Roland was barely able to leap away, swatting at his clothing with a free hand.
Woosh! And then, woosh, again! The monstrous mounts breathed out flame and soon there was a ring of fire leaping from tree to bush, penning the Keepers of the Gate in.
There was another grunt from Kazrack as the creatures that were coming from the right flank arrived. He felt the bite of a battle-axe against his helm and nearly lost his footing, but instead he swung around and finished the first one that fell upon him, and its mount took off in fear.
Ratchis felt the bite of a spear as he charged a rider that was charging him. Grimacing through the pain, he cleft the rider in twain and then sent the giant striding lizard-bird on it way with nasty chop to the face.
“Ah! Ha!” Gunthar cried with joy as he chopped down the rider in front of him, taking a moment to shove his long sword through its face to make sure it was dead.
“Lentus!” Martin chanted again, and now two more riders were slowed, along with one of the arriving mounts.
Kazrack turned away from a breath of flame directed at his side, and cleaved another rider off of his mount, and then stabbed another as his mount came in to bite. The dwarf ducked.
“Krauchaar! I dedicate to you this song of snapping bone and rending sinew!” the dwarf praised his gods as he fought.
Gunthar cursed, cutting into the now riderless mount before him, as it bit him in the hip, where his chain shirt did not provide much protection. Everyone’s eyes began to water from the smoky air, as soot settled on their faces, blackening them. The thing turned and ran, and Gunthar gave chase, being brought into the midst of three of the battle-axe wielding reptilian-riders.
“Chop! Chop!” He cried, giddily, and he slashed all three of them and leaping, turned around to wait for them to awkwardly bring their mounts to face him. “I got enough of this for all of you!”
Logan leapt back smiling to avoid the bite of one of the bird-things, and it stumbled, tumbling over and dropping its mount. Ratchis side-stepped and chopped an arm off the prone rider, and then brought the point of his sword through its chest. Logan chopped through the mounts long neck with his long sword.
Martin hurried about a flaming tree as he saw one of the riders charging in his direction, and bumped right into the spear of another. He cried out and a shaft of green and black flame engulfed him, as he felt the cold pull of the Book of Black Circles on his soul, tempting him to use its power to snuff out all of these fire-breathing lizardmen at once. The green flame shot up the creature’s spear and he was burned by the cold fire. His corpse smoked like a block of dry ice.
The combat grew more chaotic, as the stomping of the party’s feet and the great strides of the reptile-bird-beasts stirred up a cloud of ash that obscured everyone’s vision. Only Martin’s infernal mantle of flame broke through the haze. The ashen ground, already swollen by rain, became a huge puddle of blood-soaked muck, with dying mounts flailing and screeching in the darkness of the cloud. Branches burned and fell, and hissed, and the creatures were coming in from all sides.
Dorn dropped his crossbow unable to get a shot and drew his sword, cutting wildly as a mounted opponent rode past him. He felt the deep bite of an axe to the back of his neck, and only the steel collar he wore connected to his chain shirt saved his life. He fell to the ground, and began to desperately crawl away.
“And you! And you!” Gunthar said, cutting down two riders and coughing, wiping his eyes as he tried to get a good look at his next target.
Logan sent a rider’s axe, hand and all, flying high in to the air, and he sliced its neck open as it fell. A stab to the flank sent the mount running.
Ratchis roared as he swung his great sword back and forth wildly, cutting down riders and mounts alike, as they tore at him with axe and beak. Kazrack sent one rider sliding through the muck as he cut the mount out from under him, and Roland smashed the thing’s head open with his light mace.
A strong wind blew the cloud low for a few moments, and Kazrack could see Logan chopping at two mounts that hissed and bit at him.
“Logan! Leave the mounts and they may leave you be!” the dwarf cried, and then his advice became a cry of agony as a still ridden beast ripped into the side of his face, sending his helmet flying off. The dwarf spun around and blocked the next bite and then sent the rider toppling to the ground, bleeding profusely from his chest.
Afraid to cast anymore spells, Martin the Green drew his dagger and began to move through the combat stabbing at riders when he could reach them. Dorn followed at a safe distance, having gotten back on his feet, working to keep two or more from surrounding the watch-mage.
Ratchis whacked the head off of a mount and sent its riders spilling to the ground. He looked up and noticed a group of four of the creatures bringing their mounts around to flee.
“They are trying to get away!” Ratchis called. “They may bring more to their aid.”
Without a word, Roland’s form melted and elongated as his arms became tight muscled fore-legs and his nose and mouth stretched out to a snout as his teeth grew long and sharp. In a moment, his black leonine form was hustling through the ash and mayhem to give chase to those that fled. His strong panther legs tearing up the ground beneath him as he deftly avoided tree, stone and flame in his pursuit.
Roland leapt high into the air, and then fell upon a rider. The rider, mount and panther collapsed into a tumbling ball of chaos. The mount awkwardly leapt back to its feet and fled, while Roland held the reptilian man down with his jaw and ripped out its back and legs with deep rakes of his rear claws. He roared with delight and then went charging after the next one.
Roland looked back as the dust cleared from the second rider he felled to see his companions mopping up the few that were left several hundred feet back. Two more mounts were heading back east, riderless. He turned and saw the riders he pursued disappear around a low hill, and decided against continuing.
“Did any get away?” Roland bobbed his panther head up and down and patted the ground twice with his paw.
“Two?” Ratchis held up two fingers.
Roland bobbed his head up and down some more.
Ratchis shook his head. He stopped to call to Nephthys to close his many wounds, and Kazrack did the same for himself as he eyed Martin suspiciously. The glow from the mantle of green and black flame rose high into the cloudy sky.
Kazrack dropped his halberd and drew his flail, and began to walk steadily towards the watch-mage. Alarmed, Dorn loaded his crossbow which he had just picked up and pointed it towards the dwarf.
“Ratchis! Kazrack is going to attack Martin!” Dorn warned.
Logan looked back and forth unsure of what to do, and Roland simply stood there. Ratchis whipped around and ran between them, and then turned to Martin.
“Martin, I think…”
“If he is possessed…” Kazrack began.
“I’m fine,” said Martin, and the mantle disappeared without a sound. Kazrack’s grip tightened around the handle of his flail.
“It is like a rush when it comes over me,” Martin explained. “I can feel it creep in as I am focused on casting a spell, but once it happens I can fight it and I only needed to will it away for the flames to disappear.”
“You should have done it sooner,” Ratchis said.
“I only just now realized that I could do that,” Martin said. “Before I was kind of busy.”
“What’s the matter with your face?” Kazrack asked, fear and disgust growing on the edge of his bass voice.
“Whatever do you mean?” Martin brought his hand to his face and winced. The flesh around his eye was tender, and he felt the skin crumble to the touch. He hurried into his pack for a silver mirror and then dropped it. The flesh around his right eye was gray and drying up, as if dead tissue. There was blackened vein near the surface on that side of his face, and his eye was yellowed.
He slumped to the ground and his head drooped. He let a sob escape and then he choked it back.
Logan looked to Ratchis who just shook his head and looked down.
There was little of value on the fire-breathing reptile men, so the Keepers of the Gate left them to the crows and hurried southeast, hoping to escape any further pursuit. Logan suggested tracking the escaped creatures back to their camp and bringing the fight to them, but he was voted down.
There were no visible stars when they finally dropped to the ground to sleep under some bushes that seemed to have survived the many fires in the area. Ash and smoke were everywhere here within a league of the valley wall, and it burned when they breathed in.
“I think tomorrow I’m gonna go bring Fearless to where I stashed the can-on,” Gunthar said as he spread out his bedroll beside the hobbled llama. “Debo’s supposed to meet me there, and I want to check on it, make sure everything is set for the plan. I should be back in three or four days. Unless you wanna come with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ratchis grunted.
“I can do what I want!” Gunthar spat.
“I meant us coming with you,” Ratchis replied.
“Oh. Yeah, right… Uh, okay,” Gunthar said, laying down.
“But before you leave in the morning, let’s choose a place to meet up in that time,” Ratchis said.
Ralem, the 15th of Keent – 565 H.E.
The rain of the day before gave way and the clouds melted away to the west. The sun came down in hot streams of gold, and glowed against the steel of more clouds in the southeast roiling up slowly in their direction. It was a muggy day that found Gunthar moaning that Ratchis was leading him far from the direction he needed to go in order to meet up with Debo and get to where the can-on was stashed. But Ratchis insisted that the place they meet had to be closer to where the sun’s light would hit the ridge and reveal the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze. The plan was to find the spot and then camp somewhere it could be watched from and wait the two weeks for the proper day.
“Two weeks!” Roland complained, as they marched into the shadow of Greenreed Valley’s ridge. The trees here were also scorched in many places, but this was an old and thicker wood and some of the biggest trees had resisted lighting up. There was still ash over everything, giving the woods the illusion of a winter’s day. “We should go to a town and find out what has been going on in your absence. What was this town called? The one near the temple of Bast? Summit? We should go there. If those fire-breathing things are here in force they surely would have attacked the town.”
“If they have, I don’t want to know about it,” Ratchis replied.
Gunthar snorted and Kazrack frowned, but then the dwarf nodded as if in grudging agreement.
“If they attacked, then it is too late to prevent it,” Ratchis continued. “All we would be doing is leaving a convenient trail for Richard or Rindalith or whoever to find. They would expect us to go to Summit. Richard has found us there more than once.”
“Slippery slope!” Gunthar whooped and laughed.
“What? Ratchis looked at the Neergaardian.
“Slippery slope! The Pussy said it the other day,” Gunthar explained, and jerked a thumb back to Roland, who was fuming. The Neergaardian never lost his smile. “You slide right down that sh*te-covered slope until you end up just like the friggin’ people you claim to hate. Sure is easy to be good when you can be conveniently ignorant, isn’t pig-
er?”Ratchis growled.
“For a moment there, Gunthar you nearly sounded like you had a point,” Kazrack said. “But you wouldn’t pretend to have a conscience.”
“That’s my point Stumpy, I don’t hafta pretend,” Gunthar laughed. “I don’t got one. I’ll tell ya right to your face that I stuck my tallywhacker right in a dwarf whore’s mouth to feel her beard itch my balls!” He let out another high laugh and actually stopped to slap his knee, smiling broadly at the memory of it. “You know what to expect from me. You don’t need a conscience when you are a virtuous man like I am.”
“You don’t make any sense,” Kazrack replied.
“Maybe not to dwarves,” Roland put his two coppers in.
“This here tree looks as good as any,” Gunthar said, pointing randomly. “We’ll meet here in four days.”
He began to pull the llama back in the opposite direction.
“Wait!” Ratchis held up a hand. “What if you are followed or caught? You know too much.”
“I had not considered that,” Kazrack frowned. “You could be tortured.”
“Are you saying I’d talk?” Gunthar laughed. “What kind of torture could they give me that’s worse than marching back and forth through the wilderness with you guys?”
“Anyway, all they’d have to do is pay him,” Logan said. His hand was on the hilt of his sword.
“Ha! There isn’t enough money in all of Derome-Delem!” Gunthar boasted. “Like I said, I am a virtuous man.”
“Could we not at least go see the elves?” Roland interjected jumping back in topic. “They would want to know that there was an elf captive back there.”
”Arion,” Ratchis replied.
“Huh?”
“Arion, the elf-lord,” the half-orc croaked, looking down. “I was thinking who the captive the pixies mentioned might have been and it only makes sense that it was Arion. Despite what you think, having to abandon him to captivity weighs heavily on me.”
“If Anarie is possessed by one of the drow witches then Aze Nuquerna may have already fallen,” Martin speculated glumly.
“She may not be possessed,” Kazrack said. “She may be charmed, or has deliberately turned to evil.”
“Anarie would never do that,” Martin shot back.
“Who knows with elves? They have gone back on their word before. History is full of examples,” the dwarf said.
“Once you have decided where we are going to camp I will transform and seek out the temple of Bast,” Roland stately flatly. “Probably on the morrow.”
Ratchis got Gunthar to accompany them another league, so they were just south of where they thought the spot they were looking for was up on the ridge.
Along the way, Martin the Green spotted the tell-tale translucent sensor of the party being scryed upon. Stopping to close his eyes, once again the image of Richard the Red peering into a crystal ball while sitting on some cracked stone floor washed before his eyes. Once again Richard looked up and smiled, and the vision disappeared with the sensor.
“I saw it right as it appeared,” Martin said. “He didn’t see or hear anything of value.”
“This time…” Ratchis muttered.
And so it was time for Gunthar to leave.
“Don’t cry or nuthin’,” the Neergaardian smirked, as he led Fearless away. Martin hurried over and gave the llama a scratch on the side of the head.
“Hey! Little man!” Gunthar called when he was only about forty feet away. “Don’t forget me! I know your momma won’t!”
“Sleep light!” Logan warned, and he pulled his sword half way from his scabbard and patted the blade with the other hand.
Gunthar flicked two fingers in the Neergaardian Lordly Salute, and was off. (1)
While the others waited at the base of the ridge, Ratchis climbed up the steep incline and took a look around. The top was much as he remembered it. There were some trees and shrubs that could act as cover, but mostly the uneven ground and standing stones could help them disguise their movement. Back to the west the thicker woods atop of the ridge began; further to the east the vegetation was even sparser and the ground rockier for miles until the ridge looped around and got close to where the village of Summit sat upon it.
The half-orc ranger lowered a rope and helped the others up the ridge, one by one. That is, except for Roland who changed to panther form and scrabbled up the side on his own.
They took a moment to look into the eastern valley, wiping their faces as smoke came billowing up out of what was once a verdant field beyond. Instead, there was a great rent in the earth, and in the few places where grass and trees still seemed to be, flames were weaving in and out consuming them. Beneath the crack was a dull red glow. The smoke was too thick to see Summit. The western portion of the valley, though ash covered, still seemed untouched. It was more wooded and had uneven ground.
Ratchis led his companions back towards the more wooded area atop the ridge, where some fallen logs made even more cover from the valley side. They began to make camp as Roland crawled back out onto the bare part of the ridge after taking a look at Martin’s map. He prowled around for nearly two hours and then came back. He had found nothing out of the ordinary. Dejected, he crawled under some brush and napped.
Logan stood to go out and look, but Ratchis put a hand on his arm.
“Rest,” the half-orc said. “In a few hours, those clouds will come in. It will be cooler and darker, easier to hide. Go out looking then.”
Logan nodded.
After an hour they shook off their sluggishness and gathered to share some rations and talk over their plan. Roland just lay at their feet, tongue lolling out onto the ground.
“Before we risk exposing ourselves by searching for a sign of where this is going to happen, we should try to get a look around and see who might see us,” Ratchis said.
“There is no one around for miles it seems,” said Kazrack.
“Someone up on the higher portions of the ridge, or out across the way who gets a flash of sun off of your armor, they might see us and come looking to see who we are,” Ratchis reasoned.
“Fine. I’m too shiny. We’ll send Roland,” Kazrack said.
“I can use my arcane eye to scout around the valley some,” Martin said. “It has quite a range.”
It was agreed.
It took ten minutes of chanting and rubbing bat fur on his face, but then Martin was ready.
With a word and a wave of his arms, Martin’s green robes swelled out and transformed into the ash-dulled sheen of reptilian scales. A heavy tail fell out from between his leg and wings sprouted from his widened shoulder blades. For a moment he was Tanweil, or some close approximation, but then he disappeared. Invisible, took off for a few moments freedom.
The eye skirted invisibly along the valley floor, passing crisped corpses of men and animals. He caught a glimpse of the camp of the fire-breathing reptile men, and saw they were fighting among themselves. Figuring he could not glean much from watching the strange men, he sent the eye zooming across the valley floor and up the ridge to the west, his eye caught by a flash of white. Here the ridge splayed out into ever-widening plateaus like giant steps down to the sunken floor of the western valley. It was a place marked on his maps as ‘the Amphitheatre’. The top of the ridge was the highest point in the west, and trees were the least spoilt or burnt there. They were thick, and there was even still some green showing amid the gray.
There was a camp up there at the top of the Amphitheatre. Cleverly hidden as to not be seen from below or from the ridge, but to an invisible eye whizzing about the trees it was clear as day. There was nearly a dozen tents set up beneath trees, with branches and brush moved around them to grant some camouflage. There were platforms in the trees connected by planks creating something of a perimeter. And on those platforms, and amid those tents stalked men in dark cloaks, in simple woolen clothing of black and bronze, their heads shaved save for one tuft or braid. Some even had their eyebrows shaved off, most wore sandals, but some were barefoot.
Monks.
The ones walking the perimeter carried spears. Martin sent the eye deeper in the camp, hurriedly trying to get a count of how many monks were here before his spell expired. He had gotten to nearly twenty-seven when he noted a larger pavilion tent atop a rise in the ridge. Just within, were stacked several footlockers, and the top was filled with scrolls that spilled out. The watch-mage sent the eye around the flap and there he saw a squat man poring through scrolls. He wore a robe and sandals. His head was shaved, but gray stubble was growing back in, and his face was a lattice of whip marks, his eyes swollen and disfigured, and his nose askew from several breaks. His lower lip was torn, pierced by a weighted spike of metal that curved back into the mouth.
The spell ended.
Martin the Green swooped over the valley once more. He saw more reptile men, these with plate mail made of a strange red ore, running down ones that looked similar to those the Keepers of the Gate had fought the day before.
He returned and told the others what he saw.
“But isn’t that around where the beam of light is going to hit?” Kazrack asked. He pointed in the vague direction of the amphitheatre. “Over there?”
“Yes,” replied Ratchis. “They must be seeking a way into Hurgun’s Maze to try and talk to Anubis.”
“The scrolls might have been old records or accounts of Hurgun,” Martin said. “He must be trying to narrow down even further where the entrance to the Maze once was.”
“Seems like he’s narrowed it down pretty well,” Logan commented. ”We may need to deal with them.”
“No, we wait,” Ratchis said. “It is nearly cloudy enough for you to go out and look. Occupy yourself with that.”
Martin coughed twice loudly.
Everyone looked at the watch-mage and he gestured over near Kazrack with his head.
“Yes, we should definitely attack the reptile men,” he said, too loudly and nodded.
“Whatever is the matter with you?” Kazrack asked.
“Richard is watching us again,” Martin sighed. “I was hoping we could feed him a fake story, but then I realized I could never get you all on the same page without saying anything.”
“On the same page as what? Did we write something down for us to say when Richard is watching?” Kazrack asked.
Logan and Dorn laughed.
“He is still watching,” Martin hissed.
“Why didn’t you say so!?” the dwarf yelled.
“Quiet!” Ratchis hissed. “Voices can carry across the valley even if the smoke obscures vision. We don’t need more than Richard to know where we are.”
“Well, before he knew we were in some wood, now he knows we are near the valley,” Kazrack replied.
“Shut up!” Ratchis barked.
“I’m going,” Logan said, and he snuck out to the east as the light of Ra’s Glory faded. The clouds had arrived before sunset, offering enough shade to lessen his chance of being spotted. A soft rain fell and the whole valley seemed to hiss. The eastern portion was obscured by a cloud of smoke as tall as the sky itself. He searched for a couple of hours, and the only thing he could find of note was a deposit of mica out in a particularly barren area. The stones there were uneven and clumps of the shiny mineral seemed to face each other in lines going from southeast to southwest.
He made his way back.
--------------------------------
Roland yelped as a moment seemed to stretch out before him as the world faded to black, save for a pinprick of gold that seemed very distant. A woman’s voice emerged from it, “Roland, it is Norena. At temple, near Summit with Richard. Promises you all safe passage to leave, but wants you to come see him here. ” And suddenly he knew he could reply and that the strange drawn moment would be gone. “We will come,” he said.
“The sensor’s gone,” Martin announced.
“Rowr!” Roland said, getting up and moving towards Ratchis. “Rowr! Rowr!”
Ratchis looked at the panther and scrunched up his face.
“Rowr!” Roland said again and threw his heavy forepaws on the half-orc’s stomach, knocking him back a half step. “Rowr-whurr!”
“What the hell is the matter? Get off! Wait a second,” the half-orc clutched the scored chain he wore around his waist and called to Nephthys.
“What is it?” he asked Roland again, and the panther understood. To everyone else, Ratchis was snorting and grunting.
“Is that orcish?” Kazrack asked Martin, frowning.
“No, he can speak with animals,” Martin said. “It is a boon of his goddess.”
Thomas leapt down onto Martin’s shoulder from a nearby tree branch.
“He is talking some kind of cat language?” the squirrel chattered in Martin’s mind. “Can he speak squirrel?”
“Yes, I can,” Ratchis answered for himself, smiling. “How are you?”
“Tired and hungry. How do you think?” Thomas snipped back. “Can you speak dog, too?”
“Yes,” replied Ratchis.
“Dogs are dumb,” Thomas quipped and he leapt down to the ground to sniff at Roland.
Roland explained about the sending to Ratchis, who relayed it to the others.
“Why would she work with Richard?” Kazrack asked. “I thought this cat goddess of your was a good god.”
“Richard may have her charmed,” Ratchis offered. “We know he has used charm before.”
“It is a trick. We should not go,” said Kazrack. “Ignore it.”
Roland transformed to his human shape in a sudden angry blast, his voice cracking.
“Are you saying I should ignore a charmed priestess of Bast being controlled by a mage in a desecrated temple of our goddess?” the Bastite was agog. “What the hell are you thinking? What if it was a dwarf priest?”
“We have decided…” the dwarf began.
“We should go,” interjected Ratchis.
Kazrack did a double-take.
“The point of not going anywhere was for no one to know we were here,” Ratchis explained. “It is too late now. But…”
Ratchis stopped and turned to Martin.
“If it comes to conflict with Richard, we can count on your aid, right?” the half-orc asked the watch-mage.
Martin scratched his chin and then looked down and then looked up.
“If at all possible we should take him alive, if it comes to that. I have an obligation to return him to the Academy to face the masters,” Martin said. “But I believe he is summoning us because he has recruited other adventurers to his cause and hopes to enter the Maze with them, and maybe hopes to form an alliance with us.”
“How long are we going to go on trusting him?” Kazrack asked, disgusted.
“He is good-intentioned, if nothing else,” Martin replied. “It might be that an alliance would work for us.”
“We should vote,” suggested Ratchis.
“We should not go,” said Kazrack.
“You know where I stand,” said Roland.
Martin hesitated and then said, “I think we should go.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Logan said, coming back into camp. “Where we going?”
“A temple of Bast where one of our enemies awaits us,” Kazrack said, sourly.
“Oh, then definitely, I want to go,” Logan replied.
“That settles it,” said Ratchis. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
End of Session #77
------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) Flicking up two fingers with the back of the hand towards the target of the insult derived during the Abeodan-Termermean War in the Fourth Age. (see http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Neergaardian+Lordly+Salute)
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el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
I've decided I am going to wait a few days and see if a more up to date DB gets restored before I catch this up to date.
But since this thread may be going away anyway, below I will post a spoilerish little quiz.
In which order do you think the following events will happen:
But since this thread may be going away anyway, below I will post a spoilerish little quiz.
In which order do you think the following events will happen:
- Betrayal
- Gunthar's Return
- The Keepers of the Gate fight an army (well, a platoon)
- The Keepers of the Gate take a boat ride
- They fight their greatest foe
- They enter Hurgun's Maze
- Death!
- More Death!
- They fight their other nemesis
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el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Ok, back to the original plan, with a twist!. . . I will be playing catch-up tonight and tomorrow in hopes of getting to the point where I can post a new entry sometime this weekend (I am almost done writing it up).
As for the spoilers above - I will spoilerize them!
As for the spoilers above - I will spoilerize them!
Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
el-remmen said:
Are you considering starting a new thread? Or is it time for a new Book?
GW
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Graywolf-ELM said:
Huh? No, this is the last book and the last thread. . .
I only meant that there was a chance that more up to date version of the DB was going to be restored so I would not need to play catch up for the lost 5 months. . . but not it seems I must.
Will post more in a bit. . .
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