Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
snappyapple
First Post
Too bad you don't have a halfling handy to feed the sloth, eh LB? Maybe it'll settle for gnome. 
Lazybones
Adventurer
Prophetic words!snappyapple said:Too bad you don't have a halfling handy to feed the sloth, eh LB? Maybe it'll settle for gnome.
* * * * *
Chapter 153
It was huge, easily ten feet tall at the shoulder, and it had to weigh thousands of pounds. Zenna couldn’t identify it at first... it looked almost like a giant ape at first glance, but its body was proportioned to walk on four limbs rather than two, and its head was narrow and knobby, with tiny beady eyes flanking a massive snout. Its mouth wasn’t that big for its body, but with the creature’s sheer side it looked quite adequate to take off a head or arm with a single bite.
Zenna had never seen a giant sloth, and the first meeting wasn’t going to be a pleasant one.
The battle cries of her companions shocked her back from study into action. Arun and Morgan had both hurled their missiles, but the cleric’s javelin and the dwarf’s hammer seemed to have little or no effect as they glanced off of the creature’s thick hide. Hodge stepped forward, his axe raised, but the dwarf looked almost comically tiny in contrast to the creature as it loomed over him. Hodge rushed toward one limb as thick as a tree trunk, but the creature sensed him coming and lashed out at him with a sweep of one forelimb. The sloth’s huge claws scooped the dwarf up like a shovel, and almost casually sent him flying awkwardly away. Hodge landed hard fifteen paces distant, coming slowly to his feet, a bit unsteady.
The creature had scored first, but now it was exposed, with the companions able to pour damage into it from all directions. Dannel’s arrows lanced down into its back, punching through the thick hide, seeking something vital. Zenna raised her fist and poured a scorching ray into it; or rather tried to, for inexplicably the shaft of coruscating fire lanced through empty air two feet above the creature’s head, doing no damage.
“Damn!” Zenna cursed.
“Keep trying!” Arun yelled in encouragement, as he and Morgan closed to battle the beast. The dwarf narrowly dodged a clawed limb that slammed into the ground where he’d been standing a moment before, and he managed a counter than glanced off of the limb, doing little damage but drawing the creature’s attention to him. Morgan rushed it from the side, thrusting his sword into the gap where the creature’s arm its torso. The creature’s height made it difficult for the cleric to stab his weapon overly deeply into its body, but it was clear that the attack had made an impression by the way that the creature roared and turned to face the cleric. Morgan stood his ground, but before he could manage to strike again the sloth caught him up a scoop of its claws, dragging the struggling cleric up to its head. The cleric of Helm was too large to fit into the sloth’s gullet, but its powerful jaws snapped down on his torso with enough force to bend the bands of metal armor that protected his gut. Morgan cried out as the jaws crushed him with the force of a vise, but through his pain he managed to bring his sword up, stabbing awkwardly toward one of the beady eyes. His stroke went awry, but nonetheless opened a bloody gash along the side of its skull. In response the sloth shook its head violently, releasing its grip on the cleric and hurtling him roughly aside as it had done to Hodge earlier.
The sloth had taken a beating, its fine brown pelt now marked with various red trails of blood from the wounds inflicted upon it by the companions. Zenna had turned to help Hodge, but the dwarf was able to pick himself up where he’d fallen, and shrugged off the tiefling’s offered aid, instead casting about for his axe, and on finding where it had fallen hefting it and rushing back into the fray. Arun continued to pound at it even as it savaged Morgan, but good fortune seemed to have deserted the paladin, as his heavy blows either missed the creature or fell obliquely and harmlessly on the creature’s thick hide.
Mole appeared in her usual manner, darting from concealment to unleash a devastating sneak attack from behind. Augmented by her magical boots and her own nimbleness, she shot between the sloth’s hind legs and leapt upward, kicking off against the creature’s knee to accelerate her momentum up into its belly. Her sword flickered and vanished into its gut, and for a moment she hung there, suspended from the hilt. Then her weight drew it out, along with a jet of rich red blood from a punctured organ, and she fell, coming down into a smooth roll that carried her forward.
Right in front of the creature.
Which promptly roared, scooped her up, and popped her into its mouth. Mole barely had enough time to open her mouth to scream...
And then it swallowed her.
Dungannon said:Oooooh!!!! I think I'm gonna like this filter thing you're suffering at work, LB, if it means weekend updates.And correct me if I'm wrong but if the sloth just swallowed Mole, does that mean it just swallowed the alchemist's fire she was carrying?
That's going to be a bad case of indigestion....
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 154
“Mole!” Zenna cried, watching in horror as the giant sloth consumed her friend. For a moment an unnatural quiet hung over the clearing...
“GET THAT THING, NOW!” Arun roared, putting his own words into action as he leapt forward, tossing his shield aside to strike two-handed at the creature. He avoided the front of the creature, knowing that Mole was somewhere inside its gullet, instead taking aim at one of its front legs. The sloth, slower now that the loss of blood was having an effect, started to turn, but it could not react in time to stop the hammer that came down on its front right limb, right at the joint. There was a sickening crack, and the sloth sagged, keening in sudden pain.
From the opposite side Morgan rushed back into the fray, his sword shining in his hand as he raised it high, driving it deep into the creature’s side.
Hodge rushed it from the rear, bringing his axe around in a mighty blow that nearly severed one of its hind legs.
The sloth reared up, clearly in agony now, tottering on its ruined limbs. Suddenly an arrow sprouted from the base of its skull, the black feathered shaft quivering as a shudder passed through the creature.
Then, as the companions drew back, it hissed and fell.
“Hurry... cut it open!” Zenna cried, rushing in even as the dead sloth’s bulk settled to the ground.
“Where?” Hodge said, examining the body of the creature with a look of disgust in his face.
The question was answered for them a moment later, as an inch of steel suddenly jutted from a spot in the creature’s belly, twisting slightly as it tried to work a wider hole.
“There!” Zenna said, but the others were already there. “Careful, don’t cut her!” she added, as Morgan and Hodge used their blades to slice open the creature’s belly. It only took them a few moments to widen the hole enough to reveal Mole. The gnome looked rather the worse for wear, her skin blotched where the stomach acids of the creature had scored it, her entire body covered in digestive juices and gore. But she was able to flash them a wry grin as they helped her out from the creature.
“Well, now I know how an apple feels like!”
Dannel, having made his way back down from his treetop perch, jogged over to them. “Everyone all right?” he asked.
“More or less,” Mole said, holding her arms out from her body as she examined herself with a deep frown on her face. “I may need a bath, though.”
“It’ll be dark soon,” Arun said. “We need healing, food, and rest, in that order. And it seems as though there’s a ready shelter at hand.” With his hammer, he pointed toward the nearby cave at the foot of the slope.
“That place has an ill look about it,” Morgan said, a trace of uneasiness in his voice.
“True enough,” the paladin said. “But unless you’d rather camp out in the jungle, it’s our only option.
“I’m going to go look for a stream,” Mole said, starting toward the forest.
“No wandering off alone,” Dannel said. “I’ll go with you, and we can look for some wood that’ll burn as well.”
“Yer ain’t hot enough already?” Hodge asked.
“I was thinking more of dinner,” the elf said, with a nod toward the sloth.
The dwarf grinned. “Ah, in that case, I’ll go with ye as well. Yer others can get our new digs set up, all domestic-like.”
Zenna rolled her eyes, but she, Morgan, and Arun started toward the cave, while the others returned to the forest. “Watch yourself... those archers may still be about,” Arun cautioned.”
“We won’t go far,” Dannel promised.
And the twilight shadows deepened, as night settled down over the jungle. The moon was new, Selûne’s glow temporarily absent from the sky, and the stars seemed tentative this night, faint glimmers in an expanse of pure black.
The cave wasn’t especially spacious, and it stank of rotting hides among other unpleasant odors that were thankfully not fresh. But it was defensible, and given the two hostile encounters they’d already had since entering the jungle, the complaints against the accommodations were not that vociferous. They cooked slabs of sloth meet on kebobs that Dannel fashioned from spent arrows, and enjoyed a filling repast. Mole produced a bulging aleskin from her bag of holding, and for a time they were able to banish their internal rivalries and the complex feelings feeding the tension within the group, and simply be companions, enjoying a life of adventure and shared challenges overcome. Even Morgan was brought to smile by a joke Mole told, although his eyes still avoided Zenna, shrouded in her cloak at the edge of the firelight, far from both the cleric and from Dannel. The elf did not press the matter, and after the meal he drew out his silver flute, and played a few melodies that evoked feelings of camaraderie and victory after long struggle, through which was woven a faintly sad undertone that told a story of loss and regret. The others listened in silence as the elf wrought his music, and when it was done, Zenna turned away to conceal the tears that had gathered in her eyes.
The brief interlude passed quickly, though, with the realization that further dangers awaited them tomorrow in the jungle. After a brief discussion to include Morgan in their usual watch schedule, they banked their fire and retired to catch what sleep they could while the night remained.
“Mole!” Zenna cried, watching in horror as the giant sloth consumed her friend. For a moment an unnatural quiet hung over the clearing...
“GET THAT THING, NOW!” Arun roared, putting his own words into action as he leapt forward, tossing his shield aside to strike two-handed at the creature. He avoided the front of the creature, knowing that Mole was somewhere inside its gullet, instead taking aim at one of its front legs. The sloth, slower now that the loss of blood was having an effect, started to turn, but it could not react in time to stop the hammer that came down on its front right limb, right at the joint. There was a sickening crack, and the sloth sagged, keening in sudden pain.
From the opposite side Morgan rushed back into the fray, his sword shining in his hand as he raised it high, driving it deep into the creature’s side.
Hodge rushed it from the rear, bringing his axe around in a mighty blow that nearly severed one of its hind legs.
The sloth reared up, clearly in agony now, tottering on its ruined limbs. Suddenly an arrow sprouted from the base of its skull, the black feathered shaft quivering as a shudder passed through the creature.
Then, as the companions drew back, it hissed and fell.
“Hurry... cut it open!” Zenna cried, rushing in even as the dead sloth’s bulk settled to the ground.
“Where?” Hodge said, examining the body of the creature with a look of disgust in his face.
The question was answered for them a moment later, as an inch of steel suddenly jutted from a spot in the creature’s belly, twisting slightly as it tried to work a wider hole.
“There!” Zenna said, but the others were already there. “Careful, don’t cut her!” she added, as Morgan and Hodge used their blades to slice open the creature’s belly. It only took them a few moments to widen the hole enough to reveal Mole. The gnome looked rather the worse for wear, her skin blotched where the stomach acids of the creature had scored it, her entire body covered in digestive juices and gore. But she was able to flash them a wry grin as they helped her out from the creature.
“Well, now I know how an apple feels like!”
Dannel, having made his way back down from his treetop perch, jogged over to them. “Everyone all right?” he asked.
“More or less,” Mole said, holding her arms out from her body as she examined herself with a deep frown on her face. “I may need a bath, though.”
“It’ll be dark soon,” Arun said. “We need healing, food, and rest, in that order. And it seems as though there’s a ready shelter at hand.” With his hammer, he pointed toward the nearby cave at the foot of the slope.
“That place has an ill look about it,” Morgan said, a trace of uneasiness in his voice.
“True enough,” the paladin said. “But unless you’d rather camp out in the jungle, it’s our only option.
“I’m going to go look for a stream,” Mole said, starting toward the forest.
“No wandering off alone,” Dannel said. “I’ll go with you, and we can look for some wood that’ll burn as well.”
“Yer ain’t hot enough already?” Hodge asked.
“I was thinking more of dinner,” the elf said, with a nod toward the sloth.
The dwarf grinned. “Ah, in that case, I’ll go with ye as well. Yer others can get our new digs set up, all domestic-like.”
Zenna rolled her eyes, but she, Morgan, and Arun started toward the cave, while the others returned to the forest. “Watch yourself... those archers may still be about,” Arun cautioned.”
“We won’t go far,” Dannel promised.
And the twilight shadows deepened, as night settled down over the jungle. The moon was new, Selûne’s glow temporarily absent from the sky, and the stars seemed tentative this night, faint glimmers in an expanse of pure black.
The cave wasn’t especially spacious, and it stank of rotting hides among other unpleasant odors that were thankfully not fresh. But it was defensible, and given the two hostile encounters they’d already had since entering the jungle, the complaints against the accommodations were not that vociferous. They cooked slabs of sloth meet on kebobs that Dannel fashioned from spent arrows, and enjoyed a filling repast. Mole produced a bulging aleskin from her bag of holding, and for a time they were able to banish their internal rivalries and the complex feelings feeding the tension within the group, and simply be companions, enjoying a life of adventure and shared challenges overcome. Even Morgan was brought to smile by a joke Mole told, although his eyes still avoided Zenna, shrouded in her cloak at the edge of the firelight, far from both the cleric and from Dannel. The elf did not press the matter, and after the meal he drew out his silver flute, and played a few melodies that evoked feelings of camaraderie and victory after long struggle, through which was woven a faintly sad undertone that told a story of loss and regret. The others listened in silence as the elf wrought his music, and when it was done, Zenna turned away to conceal the tears that had gathered in her eyes.
The brief interlude passed quickly, though, with the realization that further dangers awaited them tomorrow in the jungle. After a brief discussion to include Morgan in their usual watch schedule, they banked their fire and retired to catch what sleep they could while the night remained.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 155
Mole’s eyes popped open as she woke suddenly, the lingering shreds of a dream of rushing flames hovering for a moment on the edges of her mind before dissolving. It was still late, or rather early, she supposed. She was hot, her shirt sodden with sweat and clinging to her lithe body. She’d already stood her watch, and she knew that she needed some more sleep, but she rose from her bedroll, reflexively grabbing both her magical boots and her swordbelt. She found her waterskin in the darkness by memory, and took a deep drink that did little to banish the stale taste in her mouth.
Silent as a mouse, she made her way across the sleeping forms of her friends to the cave exit. There was a shadowy form visible there, leaning against the rock face beside the gap. It shifted slightly as she approached, the rasp of metal on metal telling her that the guardian was Morgan.
Again she was tempted to return to her bedroll, but instead she walked over to where the cleric was keeping watch.
“Hot night, eh?” she said, her voice a whisper just loud enough for him to hear, but not to wake her sleeping friends.
“Aye,” he said, though as before he showed little sign of discomfiture. Magic spell, the gnome thought, remembering the conversation between him and the dwarves earlier.
“Thanks,” she said. “For earlier, helping me when that... whatever it was, decided to make a snack out of me.”
The cleric nodded. His eyes shifted back toward the hillside in a sweeping glance that was probably supposed to be a hint, but which Mole of course pointedly ignored. The gnome chose a rock adjacent to the cleric’s perch and hopped up beside him.
“So, what’s your problem with Zenna? I mean, you’re a paladin of Helm. Aren’t you guys supposed to be tolerant, you know, your code, and such?”
The cleric sucked in a breath, and for a moment Mole was glad that she couldn’t clearly see his expression. Finally he let out something that Mole thought might have been intended to be a chuckle—although it was clearly forced. His voice, when he spoke, was clearly serious.
“I might ask you a similar question. You seem a goodly person, though a bit scattered... why then, do you choose to travel in the company of a demonspawn?”
Mole’s eyes narrowed, but managed a casual shrug. “Oh, it’s not so bad. But Orcus keeps hitting on me at the family reunions. And Lolth always puts spider pieces in the spinach dip, yeuck, I can tell you.”
Morgan turned away again. “You mock me,” he said, his voice flat.
“Well, yeah, but you deserved it,” she said. “Now why don’t you tell me the real reason? None of the other clerics of Helm that we’ve dealt with have had this problem.”
“Yes, and what happened to them?” he asked.
“Funny,” she said. “I thought you were actually fairly bright, but your prejudices would have to be pretty blind indeed to suggest that our actions, or lack thereof, had anything to do with the deaths of Ruphos, Illewyn, and Sarcem. I never knew the high priest, but I definitely counted the first two as my friends, and I mourn their deaths.”
She considered storming off, but something kept her sitting there, while the cleric sat beside her as rigid and silent as a statue.
Finally, after several minutes, he spoke.
“I was never supposed to become a priest,” he said, his voice distant, his gaze fixed on some distant point in that borderland where the night sky met the jungle canopy. “I was the eldest, I was to inherit my family’s estate, the wealth that my father and his line had accumulated, a good name and a favorable marriage.”
“My life was easy, the demands of who I was simple enough, my purse always full. I spent my educational years in a mélange of free spending, carousing with friends, enjoying a sequence of women.”
Mole glanced up dubiously, but didn’t interrupt.
“The cult had existed as rumor for some time, but we paid little heed to it; a story to frighten children. Secret churches and dark rituals were phenomena of places like Almraiven and Calimport, not in the quiet belt of rural communities that exists in the shadow of the Marching Mountains. To this day, I do not know why they took an interest in my family.”
The cleric’s voice grew distant; it was as if he’d forgotten that she was there. “At first I thought it was mere fate that had brought me home at that day, at that time. Had I waited a day, I doubt the involvement of the cult would have ever been known.”
“I heard the screams as I rode into the main courtyard of the estate. They had gathered everyone, my parents, the domestics, the field laborers... even the family dogs, in the plaza. They did not bother to hide their features... the indicators of their heritage varied from case to case, horns on one, hooves on another, black claws on a third. Tieflings, a dozen of them, at least...”
“Their demons set upon me and my companions before I even knew they were there. Dretch, least of their kind, but I did not know that then. The fiends tore my horse out from under me, while their tiefling masters called down globes of utter darkness to confound us. Claws raked my skin, though I was able to fight free, to flee, while my companions were torn apart behind me.”
“They spent some time looking for me, but I knew the estate better than they, and I was able to find a hiding place. They left...”
“Everyone was dead, murdered. Most of them had been tortured. The grass in the plaza was more red than green...”
He trailed off, and after a moment started slightly, as if coming out of a dream. Then he turned to look at Mole. In the darkness his eyes were like black pits, empty.
“It is time for the dwarf’s watch.”
And he rose, leaving her alone without a further word.
Mole’s eyes popped open as she woke suddenly, the lingering shreds of a dream of rushing flames hovering for a moment on the edges of her mind before dissolving. It was still late, or rather early, she supposed. She was hot, her shirt sodden with sweat and clinging to her lithe body. She’d already stood her watch, and she knew that she needed some more sleep, but she rose from her bedroll, reflexively grabbing both her magical boots and her swordbelt. She found her waterskin in the darkness by memory, and took a deep drink that did little to banish the stale taste in her mouth.
Silent as a mouse, she made her way across the sleeping forms of her friends to the cave exit. There was a shadowy form visible there, leaning against the rock face beside the gap. It shifted slightly as she approached, the rasp of metal on metal telling her that the guardian was Morgan.
Again she was tempted to return to her bedroll, but instead she walked over to where the cleric was keeping watch.
“Hot night, eh?” she said, her voice a whisper just loud enough for him to hear, but not to wake her sleeping friends.
“Aye,” he said, though as before he showed little sign of discomfiture. Magic spell, the gnome thought, remembering the conversation between him and the dwarves earlier.
“Thanks,” she said. “For earlier, helping me when that... whatever it was, decided to make a snack out of me.”
The cleric nodded. His eyes shifted back toward the hillside in a sweeping glance that was probably supposed to be a hint, but which Mole of course pointedly ignored. The gnome chose a rock adjacent to the cleric’s perch and hopped up beside him.
“So, what’s your problem with Zenna? I mean, you’re a paladin of Helm. Aren’t you guys supposed to be tolerant, you know, your code, and such?”
The cleric sucked in a breath, and for a moment Mole was glad that she couldn’t clearly see his expression. Finally he let out something that Mole thought might have been intended to be a chuckle—although it was clearly forced. His voice, when he spoke, was clearly serious.
“I might ask you a similar question. You seem a goodly person, though a bit scattered... why then, do you choose to travel in the company of a demonspawn?”
Mole’s eyes narrowed, but managed a casual shrug. “Oh, it’s not so bad. But Orcus keeps hitting on me at the family reunions. And Lolth always puts spider pieces in the spinach dip, yeuck, I can tell you.”
Morgan turned away again. “You mock me,” he said, his voice flat.
“Well, yeah, but you deserved it,” she said. “Now why don’t you tell me the real reason? None of the other clerics of Helm that we’ve dealt with have had this problem.”
“Yes, and what happened to them?” he asked.
“Funny,” she said. “I thought you were actually fairly bright, but your prejudices would have to be pretty blind indeed to suggest that our actions, or lack thereof, had anything to do with the deaths of Ruphos, Illewyn, and Sarcem. I never knew the high priest, but I definitely counted the first two as my friends, and I mourn their deaths.”
She considered storming off, but something kept her sitting there, while the cleric sat beside her as rigid and silent as a statue.
Finally, after several minutes, he spoke.
“I was never supposed to become a priest,” he said, his voice distant, his gaze fixed on some distant point in that borderland where the night sky met the jungle canopy. “I was the eldest, I was to inherit my family’s estate, the wealth that my father and his line had accumulated, a good name and a favorable marriage.”
“My life was easy, the demands of who I was simple enough, my purse always full. I spent my educational years in a mélange of free spending, carousing with friends, enjoying a sequence of women.”
Mole glanced up dubiously, but didn’t interrupt.
“The cult had existed as rumor for some time, but we paid little heed to it; a story to frighten children. Secret churches and dark rituals were phenomena of places like Almraiven and Calimport, not in the quiet belt of rural communities that exists in the shadow of the Marching Mountains. To this day, I do not know why they took an interest in my family.”
The cleric’s voice grew distant; it was as if he’d forgotten that she was there. “At first I thought it was mere fate that had brought me home at that day, at that time. Had I waited a day, I doubt the involvement of the cult would have ever been known.”
“I heard the screams as I rode into the main courtyard of the estate. They had gathered everyone, my parents, the domestics, the field laborers... even the family dogs, in the plaza. They did not bother to hide their features... the indicators of their heritage varied from case to case, horns on one, hooves on another, black claws on a third. Tieflings, a dozen of them, at least...”
“Their demons set upon me and my companions before I even knew they were there. Dretch, least of their kind, but I did not know that then. The fiends tore my horse out from under me, while their tiefling masters called down globes of utter darkness to confound us. Claws raked my skin, though I was able to fight free, to flee, while my companions were torn apart behind me.”
“They spent some time looking for me, but I knew the estate better than they, and I was able to find a hiding place. They left...”
“Everyone was dead, murdered. Most of them had been tortured. The grass in the plaza was more red than green...”
He trailed off, and after a moment started slightly, as if coming out of a dream. Then he turned to look at Mole. In the darkness his eyes were like black pits, empty.
“It is time for the dwarf’s watch.”
And he rose, leaving her alone without a further word.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Stinkin' tieflings! Kill 'em all.
I'm liking Morgan more and more
I'm liking Morgan more and more
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 156
The remaining hours before the dawn passed all too quickly. Mole felt as though she’d just laid her head back down when she awoke to the sound of activity within the confines of the cave. Dannel had built the fire back up again from the remains of last night, and the smell of roasted sloth kebobs—and more importantly, hot coffee—drew her back up fully into the realm of wakefulness to face the day. Hodge, who’d taken the last watch, had retreated back into the mouth of the cave, splitting his attention between the slope outside and the meal that Arun was turning over the flames.
As she stretched and pulled on her boots and armor, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. The back of the cave was littered with bones, white shards shattered into segments ranging from a few inches to over a foot in length, but among them was something incongruous, something that had drawn her special sense for detecting that which was out of the ordinary.
She walked over in that direction, careful not to step on any of the sharp pieces of bone that jutted upward. The thing that had drawn her eye looked similar to the bone fragments, but it was a wand, a smooth device of polished ivory. She drew it up and examined it.
“What have you found?” Zenna asked.
Mole took the wand over to her friend. She handed it to her in a way that made the symbol carved into its base clearly visible. The others had turned their attention to the scene now, curious.
Zenna held the wand in her slender fingers. She spoke the words of a minor cantrip, focusing a thread of magical energy into the device.
“It is depleted,” she said. “It was a healing wand, I believe. And by this carving—a gauntlet that I believe we are all familiar with—I can infer that its former owner was the man we seek.”
Morgan asked for the wand, and Zenna handed it over to him. “Well, we already suspected he’d been here, because of the silver plate,” Dannel said.
“At least it’s another clue that we are on the right track,” Zenna said. For a moment the two actually looked at each other, before Zenna turned away and busied herself rolling her bedroll and packing the rest of her gear into her light traveling pack.
Dannel sighed and moved toward the cave entrance. “I’m going to take a quick look around, make sure the trail’s clear,” he said.
“Don’t go far, and watch yourself,” Arun said without looking up from his efforts at the fire.
“Save me a kebob,” the elf said as he left.
“No promises, elf,” Hodge replied.
Mole was equally eager as she grabbed a loose piece of rag and used it to lift the small iron coffeepot from the fire. “Ah,” she said, sniffing the thick aroma coming from the spout of the pot. “So, what do you think we’ll find...”
She was interrupted as Dannel suddenly darted back into the cave. The others, seeing the look on the elf’s face, were quick to grab their weapons.
“What is it?” Hodge asked.
“There’s a good number of gnolls out there in the forest, waiting in ambush,” Dannel replied.
“Did they see you?” Morgan asked.
The elf nodded.
Frowning, Mole put the coffeepot back down. “So much for breakfast,” she grumbled.
The remaining hours before the dawn passed all too quickly. Mole felt as though she’d just laid her head back down when she awoke to the sound of activity within the confines of the cave. Dannel had built the fire back up again from the remains of last night, and the smell of roasted sloth kebobs—and more importantly, hot coffee—drew her back up fully into the realm of wakefulness to face the day. Hodge, who’d taken the last watch, had retreated back into the mouth of the cave, splitting his attention between the slope outside and the meal that Arun was turning over the flames.
As she stretched and pulled on her boots and armor, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. The back of the cave was littered with bones, white shards shattered into segments ranging from a few inches to over a foot in length, but among them was something incongruous, something that had drawn her special sense for detecting that which was out of the ordinary.
She walked over in that direction, careful not to step on any of the sharp pieces of bone that jutted upward. The thing that had drawn her eye looked similar to the bone fragments, but it was a wand, a smooth device of polished ivory. She drew it up and examined it.
“What have you found?” Zenna asked.
Mole took the wand over to her friend. She handed it to her in a way that made the symbol carved into its base clearly visible. The others had turned their attention to the scene now, curious.
Zenna held the wand in her slender fingers. She spoke the words of a minor cantrip, focusing a thread of magical energy into the device.
“It is depleted,” she said. “It was a healing wand, I believe. And by this carving—a gauntlet that I believe we are all familiar with—I can infer that its former owner was the man we seek.”
Morgan asked for the wand, and Zenna handed it over to him. “Well, we already suspected he’d been here, because of the silver plate,” Dannel said.
“At least it’s another clue that we are on the right track,” Zenna said. For a moment the two actually looked at each other, before Zenna turned away and busied herself rolling her bedroll and packing the rest of her gear into her light traveling pack.
Dannel sighed and moved toward the cave entrance. “I’m going to take a quick look around, make sure the trail’s clear,” he said.
“Don’t go far, and watch yourself,” Arun said without looking up from his efforts at the fire.
“Save me a kebob,” the elf said as he left.
“No promises, elf,” Hodge replied.
Mole was equally eager as she grabbed a loose piece of rag and used it to lift the small iron coffeepot from the fire. “Ah,” she said, sniffing the thick aroma coming from the spout of the pot. “So, what do you think we’ll find...”
She was interrupted as Dannel suddenly darted back into the cave. The others, seeing the look on the elf’s face, were quick to grab their weapons.
“What is it?” Hodge asked.
“There’s a good number of gnolls out there in the forest, waiting in ambush,” Dannel replied.
“Did they see you?” Morgan asked.
The elf nodded.
Frowning, Mole put the coffeepot back down. “So much for breakfast,” she grumbled.
SolidSnake
First Post
Lazybones said:
It's on now...
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