Scarred Lands: None Dare Call Them Heroes (updated 12/07/03)
Harp
First Post
Zarthon said:
Now this bothers me a great dealFirefly has just started here in South Africa infact I watched the second episode on Tuesday and I am really enjoying it.
When you say cancelled do you mean they stopped making the show?
So as not to hijack this terrific story thread, I'll just direct you to a couple of other relevant threads on the Fantasy & Sci-Fi Books, Movies and TV board:
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=47078
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=39869
I feel your pain.
KidCthulhu
First Post
JonRog, interesting that you should set your group up with a Giles. My Scarred Lands group has recently come under the tutelage of a bookish, intellectual noble, who is the director of their secret Vigil Cohort. The group brought him home some new, interesting books after their last adventure, and as I was conveying his flustered, eager thanks, Pkitty was asking me if he wears pants, and calling him Ripper.
Sheesh. Give people a nice, comforting NPC, and they get all snippy on you.
Sheesh. Give people a nice, comforting NPC, and they get all snippy on you.
coyote6
Adventurer
I'd like to get this out of the way early, and officially blame KidCthulhu for all the wailing, gnashing of teeth, and other anxiety-driven behaviors I will be forced to engage in while waiting for updates to this story hour.
I mean, I've managed to avoid being sucked into jonrog's stories because I knew I'd be sucked in and then have to wait (can I blame Hollywood for that?). But I see Last Reply: KidCthulhu, and just casually decide to click and read, and then the next thing I know, I'm clicking "Subscribe to this thread." Argh!
Good stuff, John. Now, update again. Or go get a job writing for Mutant Enemy or something.
I mean, I've managed to avoid being sucked into jonrog's stories because I knew I'd be sucked in and then have to wait (can I blame Hollywood for that?). But I see Last Reply: KidCthulhu, and just casually decide to click and read, and then the next thing I know, I'm clicking "Subscribe to this thread." Argh!
Good stuff, John. Now, update again. Or go get a job writing for Mutant Enemy or something.
CH. 7: "Wherein our heroes bask in the glory of an iconic figure, and find it leaves something to be desired."
The party crested yet another one of the infinite blood red ridges. Yet more vast stone mesas rose before them. Indigo leaned back in her saddle. Up, down, up down, four damn days of this ... bah. She'd kill to have enough straight ground to get a good canter going.
As if in answer to her silent gripe, pounding hoofbeats echoed up from the bottom of the nearest ravine. Two horses at full tilt. The group exchanged glances and stagger-stepped their mounts to the dry riverbed. Just as Indigo and Argent reached level ground, the first horseman thundered around the bend. He was in the uniform of a Veshian Army Messenger. Indigo raised a hand.
"Hail and well --" the man and horse rushed past. "-- well met. Am I saying it wrong?"
The reason for the Messenger's panic became rounded the bend a moment later. A second messenger, screaming as his horse collapsed under him. His horse was going down because its legs were gone, suddenly ripped away by a pack of ... something. Before he hit the ground one of the beast rocketed from the ground and took the man in the shoulder. The two hit the ground hard.
The group swung down from their horses to help. The man looked up, made eye contact with Indigo and screamed again --
-- as the furry dog-babboon on its back snarled and with vast jaws TORE the man's shoulder clean away from his back. Muscle and bone splintered like the man was an overcooked duck. Another one fo the creatures hit the man's leg at full speed. It was five paces past before Indigo realized it now had the man's shin in its mouth.
"Oh bloody hell," Alec shuddered. He unslung his bow. "Barrow Mawgs. A whole pack of them"
"Like land piranha but faster and hungrier!" Argent leapt to the nearest low tree branch and heaved himself up. He cranked his crossbow.
Indigo had instinctively drawn her Oathblade, but what could she do? The man's cries gurgled in his throat as his chest blew open from behind, a barrow mawg's snout ripping clean through him.
To her amazement, Taggart leapt past her. "This'll be interesting," he muttered.
Taggart landed square in the wet stain that used to be a man. He spun his coat around, punchblade flashing. He scored once, twice, slicing into the Barrow Mawgs even as he spun. But he suddenly found himself backed against the stone wall. His remarkable agility curtailed, he felt the dagger-fangs of the mawgs trying to crunch through the heavy leather coat. Sweat broke out on his forehead. "Okay, bit more of a workout than I was hoping ..."
A few quick HISSES ... fletched arrows PUNCHED through the abominations' sides. The mawgs whilred, jaws snatching at air. Up close a barrow mawg could saw through a man's thigh in two seconds. But against archers they were defenseless. In another heartbeat all was quiet. Taggart let out a long, slow breath, poking one of the beasts with his boot.
Argent shouldered his crossbow and approached. "What were you THINKING?"
"He wasn't," smiled Kirby. "He calls it strategy. It's terrifying, really. He plays cards the same way."
The other messenger returned now that the danger had passed. It turned out he was an Outrider, sent to find wayward military units. The front line was still indeed one vast free-for-all, but technically the Bandit King was dead and the war was over. There was just, oh, two decades of brutal clean-up work to do. Wild, huge packs of predators like the barrow mawgs were flooding the Steppes, bloated with corpse-food.
Alec scribbled out a note, pressed it into the man's pocket. "To an agent of Lady Gillian Godwyn, and no one else. It'll mean your commission." With a broad grin the man rode off. Alec turned ot the others. "Letting the royal family know where Lady Vivian is.
"What if he's intercepted?" Argent asked.
Alec shook his head. "Vesh royal intelligence uses a tricky little cipher. I happen to have ... borrowed it a while back. Lord Godwyn's next oldest daughter is head of his spy services. She alone will understand."
Kirby stepped easily into his stirrup, lifted himself to peer into the distance. "Good news. Cooking fires. The town of Oakhurst must be close."
*****************************
Oakhurst was remarkably unscathed. A few full orchards cradled the thriving marketplace and wooden houses. The party stared in amazement as rather unhurried villagers waved at their arrival. "They've had almost no war at all," Argent said.
"Smarter to be lucky than lucky to be smart." Taggart waved down a stable boy and discovered that the local mayor, one Madam Hucrele, was holding court at the nearby town council house. Less than five minutes later they were standing before the lwoman. She was stout, older, and pale. Her eyes were tight and drawn. To her left stood Felosial. This woman was the half-elf sherriff/ranger who'd kept the security of the town during the war. Alec acted as their mouthpiece. He offered greetings from Cambragia, then eased his way to --
"-- the apple." Hucrele pursed her lips. "Wish I'd never seen the thing." She paused. "Norman and Roland ..."
Felosial waited. When it was plain Hucrele wouldn't continue, she picked up the tale. "Fifteen years ago, about the time of the liberation of Canterhaven. Old alchemist sets up in the ruins, about a half-day away."
"Ruins of what?" Alec asked. He was already constructing the memory link to this alteration of his mind maps.
"Before the dragons disappeared, there were humans who worshipped them as Gods. One of the old temples is carved into the wall of the box canyon past the winter ridge." Felosial shuddered. Dragon cults hadn't been around for centuries, but they still had a nasty reputation.
"Dragons are back," Taggart said.
Felosial nodded. "Some, indeed have freed themsleves from the rift in Termana. But not many. And those worshipped, they were the truly Old Ones." The half-elf sipped her nut-tea. "They were indeed as powerful as the gods in their youth. But back to the old man. Soon, he began his tradition -- once a year he arrives, and asks Oakhurst to host the auction of his apple. This healing apple. There is only ever one, and he's certainly been offered the sun and moons for more than that so I must believe that's all he can produce in a year."
Hucrele jumped in. "This year, he didn't come. A passing paladin of Corean, Sharwyn, offered to lead an expedition into the ruins to see if theold man was all right." She paused. "My two sons were in that group. None have returned."
"How long ago?" Indigo asked.
"A tenday."
"Then there's hope," Argent assured her.
Inidgo stared at him. "What? Are you nuts? It's a half a day away. Of course they're dead, or maybe crippled and trapped -- " Indigo heard the room grow deathly quiet. She sighed. "I'm doing it again, with the honesty, yes?"
*****************************
The next dawn the group set out along the well-worn trail to the box canyon. They'd almost reached the place when human voices echoed up to their trail. They cut down through the rush until they could find a decent spot to survey the canyon bed.
A massive set of stone stairs were cut into the orange hoodoo rock of the canyon wall. A bas-relief dragon head some fifteen feet high surrounded a pair of stone doors sealed shut across the dragon's mouth. At the base of the stairs was some sort of transient camp ...
"Gods, look ..." Argent gasped. "Draconic humans! An ancient dragon cult -- alive!"
Sixty or so men, women and children milled between makeshift tents and lean-tos. Taggart spotted some fresh burial mounds nearby. The people looked like any other small campground but for their bizarre appearnce. Even from here, the gorup could see the cross-hatch markings of scales covering their arms and faces! When one woman spoke, her tongue split in a shallow, blunt fork!
"Unholy spawn!" hissed Argent. "What foul magics --"
"You mean 'what pathetic losers'," Indigo continued calmly. "Look closer."
It suddenly dawned on them. These people weren't blessed as some sort fo half-breeds. They'd ... cut themselves, hundreds and hundreds of times, to LOOK like dragon-kin. They'd crammed fake horns into their skulls. Split their own tongues.
"Our mysterious dragon-cult are a bunch of deluded self-mutilating idiots." Taggart rocked back on his heels. "That is so disappointing."
"There's an awful lot of them," muttered Alec.
"They're armed with sticks," Indigo said. "Some of them aren't even pointy sticks. I could defeat this entire camp with a bag of rocks and a harsh word."
"I do wonder why they're camped out here and not in the temple ruins.
Kirby pointed. "Look. That clearing. They keep bringing gifts to that small , seated figure in the elegant robes." Kirby rose, started toward the clearing.
"What's he doing?" Indigo asked.
"He's going to pretend to be a new recruit to the cult and pump their leader for information," Taggart answered lazily. The others all objected at once, but he waved them down. "Kirby lies for a living like you and I eat. Trust me, he'll be running the place in a minute and a half."
******************************
Kirby sidled up to the figure. He was ... quite small. Despite the gifts from the cult, he wept into his tiny hands. Errr ... paws. Little scaly claws, really.
The cult leader glared up. His nictating eyelid rolled over gooey tears. "Who are you?"
"Oh, you know me, I've just arrived!" Kirby just smiled. He didn't know why everything sentient believed any half-assed answer that popped out of his mouth. They just did. The figure squinted his eyes dubiously, snifflled. "What's wrong, o mighty one?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong?!" The cult leader gestured to an empty small, battered metal cage. "The disciples in black came to use our library, and they gave us our dragon. Now filthy dwarves have dragon! They came here from war, took over home -- " the cult leader gestured to the ruined temple, "-- and TOOK OUR DRAGON!" This sent the small figure back into paroxysms of tears. Alarmed by their leader's distress, some of the cultists rushed forward with scrabbly desert fruit and honey-sick wine. They stared at Kirby, but plainly their leader's acceptance of him answered all questions.
Kirby wrestled with what he'd learned. Ridiculous. Nobody goes about handing out small dragons. This entire cult's probably been worshipping a polymorphed dog. The bit about dwarves was too familiar -- Kirby gritted his teeth. Charduni. Great. If Taggart finds out ... Kirby watched as the kobold cult leader raised his claw to the sky and shook an angry fist.
"MEEPO JUST WANTED TO MAKE NICE!"
The party crested yet another one of the infinite blood red ridges. Yet more vast stone mesas rose before them. Indigo leaned back in her saddle. Up, down, up down, four damn days of this ... bah. She'd kill to have enough straight ground to get a good canter going.
As if in answer to her silent gripe, pounding hoofbeats echoed up from the bottom of the nearest ravine. Two horses at full tilt. The group exchanged glances and stagger-stepped their mounts to the dry riverbed. Just as Indigo and Argent reached level ground, the first horseman thundered around the bend. He was in the uniform of a Veshian Army Messenger. Indigo raised a hand.
"Hail and well --" the man and horse rushed past. "-- well met. Am I saying it wrong?"
The reason for the Messenger's panic became rounded the bend a moment later. A second messenger, screaming as his horse collapsed under him. His horse was going down because its legs were gone, suddenly ripped away by a pack of ... something. Before he hit the ground one of the beast rocketed from the ground and took the man in the shoulder. The two hit the ground hard.
The group swung down from their horses to help. The man looked up, made eye contact with Indigo and screamed again --
-- as the furry dog-babboon on its back snarled and with vast jaws TORE the man's shoulder clean away from his back. Muscle and bone splintered like the man was an overcooked duck. Another one fo the creatures hit the man's leg at full speed. It was five paces past before Indigo realized it now had the man's shin in its mouth.
"Oh bloody hell," Alec shuddered. He unslung his bow. "Barrow Mawgs. A whole pack of them"
"Like land piranha but faster and hungrier!" Argent leapt to the nearest low tree branch and heaved himself up. He cranked his crossbow.
Indigo had instinctively drawn her Oathblade, but what could she do? The man's cries gurgled in his throat as his chest blew open from behind, a barrow mawg's snout ripping clean through him.
To her amazement, Taggart leapt past her. "This'll be interesting," he muttered.
Taggart landed square in the wet stain that used to be a man. He spun his coat around, punchblade flashing. He scored once, twice, slicing into the Barrow Mawgs even as he spun. But he suddenly found himself backed against the stone wall. His remarkable agility curtailed, he felt the dagger-fangs of the mawgs trying to crunch through the heavy leather coat. Sweat broke out on his forehead. "Okay, bit more of a workout than I was hoping ..."
A few quick HISSES ... fletched arrows PUNCHED through the abominations' sides. The mawgs whilred, jaws snatching at air. Up close a barrow mawg could saw through a man's thigh in two seconds. But against archers they were defenseless. In another heartbeat all was quiet. Taggart let out a long, slow breath, poking one of the beasts with his boot.
Argent shouldered his crossbow and approached. "What were you THINKING?"
"He wasn't," smiled Kirby. "He calls it strategy. It's terrifying, really. He plays cards the same way."
The other messenger returned now that the danger had passed. It turned out he was an Outrider, sent to find wayward military units. The front line was still indeed one vast free-for-all, but technically the Bandit King was dead and the war was over. There was just, oh, two decades of brutal clean-up work to do. Wild, huge packs of predators like the barrow mawgs were flooding the Steppes, bloated with corpse-food.
Alec scribbled out a note, pressed it into the man's pocket. "To an agent of Lady Gillian Godwyn, and no one else. It'll mean your commission." With a broad grin the man rode off. Alec turned ot the others. "Letting the royal family know where Lady Vivian is.
"What if he's intercepted?" Argent asked.
Alec shook his head. "Vesh royal intelligence uses a tricky little cipher. I happen to have ... borrowed it a while back. Lord Godwyn's next oldest daughter is head of his spy services. She alone will understand."
Kirby stepped easily into his stirrup, lifted himself to peer into the distance. "Good news. Cooking fires. The town of Oakhurst must be close."
*****************************
Oakhurst was remarkably unscathed. A few full orchards cradled the thriving marketplace and wooden houses. The party stared in amazement as rather unhurried villagers waved at their arrival. "They've had almost no war at all," Argent said.
"Smarter to be lucky than lucky to be smart." Taggart waved down a stable boy and discovered that the local mayor, one Madam Hucrele, was holding court at the nearby town council house. Less than five minutes later they were standing before the lwoman. She was stout, older, and pale. Her eyes were tight and drawn. To her left stood Felosial. This woman was the half-elf sherriff/ranger who'd kept the security of the town during the war. Alec acted as their mouthpiece. He offered greetings from Cambragia, then eased his way to --
"-- the apple." Hucrele pursed her lips. "Wish I'd never seen the thing." She paused. "Norman and Roland ..."
Felosial waited. When it was plain Hucrele wouldn't continue, she picked up the tale. "Fifteen years ago, about the time of the liberation of Canterhaven. Old alchemist sets up in the ruins, about a half-day away."
"Ruins of what?" Alec asked. He was already constructing the memory link to this alteration of his mind maps.
"Before the dragons disappeared, there were humans who worshipped them as Gods. One of the old temples is carved into the wall of the box canyon past the winter ridge." Felosial shuddered. Dragon cults hadn't been around for centuries, but they still had a nasty reputation.
"Dragons are back," Taggart said.
Felosial nodded. "Some, indeed have freed themsleves from the rift in Termana. But not many. And those worshipped, they were the truly Old Ones." The half-elf sipped her nut-tea. "They were indeed as powerful as the gods in their youth. But back to the old man. Soon, he began his tradition -- once a year he arrives, and asks Oakhurst to host the auction of his apple. This healing apple. There is only ever one, and he's certainly been offered the sun and moons for more than that so I must believe that's all he can produce in a year."
Hucrele jumped in. "This year, he didn't come. A passing paladin of Corean, Sharwyn, offered to lead an expedition into the ruins to see if theold man was all right." She paused. "My two sons were in that group. None have returned."
"How long ago?" Indigo asked.
"A tenday."
"Then there's hope," Argent assured her.
Inidgo stared at him. "What? Are you nuts? It's a half a day away. Of course they're dead, or maybe crippled and trapped -- " Indigo heard the room grow deathly quiet. She sighed. "I'm doing it again, with the honesty, yes?"
*****************************
The next dawn the group set out along the well-worn trail to the box canyon. They'd almost reached the place when human voices echoed up to their trail. They cut down through the rush until they could find a decent spot to survey the canyon bed.
A massive set of stone stairs were cut into the orange hoodoo rock of the canyon wall. A bas-relief dragon head some fifteen feet high surrounded a pair of stone doors sealed shut across the dragon's mouth. At the base of the stairs was some sort of transient camp ...
"Gods, look ..." Argent gasped. "Draconic humans! An ancient dragon cult -- alive!"
Sixty or so men, women and children milled between makeshift tents and lean-tos. Taggart spotted some fresh burial mounds nearby. The people looked like any other small campground but for their bizarre appearnce. Even from here, the gorup could see the cross-hatch markings of scales covering their arms and faces! When one woman spoke, her tongue split in a shallow, blunt fork!
"Unholy spawn!" hissed Argent. "What foul magics --"
"You mean 'what pathetic losers'," Indigo continued calmly. "Look closer."
It suddenly dawned on them. These people weren't blessed as some sort fo half-breeds. They'd ... cut themselves, hundreds and hundreds of times, to LOOK like dragon-kin. They'd crammed fake horns into their skulls. Split their own tongues.
"Our mysterious dragon-cult are a bunch of deluded self-mutilating idiots." Taggart rocked back on his heels. "That is so disappointing."
"There's an awful lot of them," muttered Alec.
"They're armed with sticks," Indigo said. "Some of them aren't even pointy sticks. I could defeat this entire camp with a bag of rocks and a harsh word."
"I do wonder why they're camped out here and not in the temple ruins.
Kirby pointed. "Look. That clearing. They keep bringing gifts to that small , seated figure in the elegant robes." Kirby rose, started toward the clearing.
"What's he doing?" Indigo asked.
"He's going to pretend to be a new recruit to the cult and pump their leader for information," Taggart answered lazily. The others all objected at once, but he waved them down. "Kirby lies for a living like you and I eat. Trust me, he'll be running the place in a minute and a half."
******************************
Kirby sidled up to the figure. He was ... quite small. Despite the gifts from the cult, he wept into his tiny hands. Errr ... paws. Little scaly claws, really.
The cult leader glared up. His nictating eyelid rolled over gooey tears. "Who are you?"
"Oh, you know me, I've just arrived!" Kirby just smiled. He didn't know why everything sentient believed any half-assed answer that popped out of his mouth. They just did. The figure squinted his eyes dubiously, snifflled. "What's wrong, o mighty one?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong?!" The cult leader gestured to an empty small, battered metal cage. "The disciples in black came to use our library, and they gave us our dragon. Now filthy dwarves have dragon! They came here from war, took over home -- " the cult leader gestured to the ruined temple, "-- and TOOK OUR DRAGON!" This sent the small figure back into paroxysms of tears. Alarmed by their leader's distress, some of the cultists rushed forward with scrabbly desert fruit and honey-sick wine. They stared at Kirby, but plainly their leader's acceptance of him answered all questions.
Kirby wrestled with what he'd learned. Ridiculous. Nobody goes about handing out small dragons. This entire cult's probably been worshipping a polymorphed dog. The bit about dwarves was too familiar -- Kirby gritted his teeth. Charduni. Great. If Taggart finds out ... Kirby watched as the kobold cult leader raised his claw to the sky and shook an angry fist.
"MEEPO JUST WANTED TO MAKE NICE!"
Last edited:
daemonictutor
First Post
LOL
Meepo rulez!
What a splendid idea to have human cultist 'worship' a kobold. At least I think he's a kobold and his name sounds awfully familiar.
Ok, back to lurking.
Meepo rulez!
What a splendid idea to have human cultist 'worship' a kobold. At least I think he's a kobold and his name sounds awfully familiar.
Ok, back to lurking.
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