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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1588065" data-attributes="member: 143">I've been banned!I found out today that my workplace has installed a new filter on our internet access.  No more accessing "Games" related sites (including ENWorld).  Augh!  Although the irony is that I'll probably be able to return to daily posting of story updates before too long, my inability to surf will leave me with writing this story as my only creative outlet at work...* * * * * Chapter 150The next morning there were a number of yawns and groans all around, as the companions set out with the coming of the day, replacing their mounts with a small rowboat provided by the leaders of the Chisel.  Both dwarves regarded the craft dubiously, and upon first seeing it Hodge absolutely refused to embark in, “that heap o’ driftwood,” but ultimately they gathered their supplies and set out down the Red River.  “It’s just a little water,” Mole chided Hodge, but Arun’s response was serious. “Easy for a gnome, or a human for that matter,” the paladin said.  “Unencumbered, you float.  But if you were denser than water, and clad in heavy armor to boot, you’d likely react in the same way.”But the boat proved sturdy enough, although it was a bit crowded with the six of them and all of their gear, and with the swift current descending down from the cataracts above Redgorge they had soon left the black basalt walls of the town behind them.  The river led them into the dense jungle that extended for several leagues below the mountains.  While this jungle was nothing in contrast to the mighty Forest of Mir, extending in a belt ranging hundreds of north along the Marching Mountains to the border of Tethyr, the companions were nevertheless awed by the looming presence of the densely arranged trees and the overall impression of teeming life that surrounded them.  Of course, some were more awed than others. “Damned bloody blasted bugs!” Hodge yelled, snapping at his neck in an awkward motion that threatened to overturn the entire boat.  “For the last time, hold, dwarf!” Morgan complained, steadying the craft with his oar.  The boat had come with two oars, and they had taken turns propelling the craft and keeping it clear of obstacles as the morning deepened.  In truth, though, the current did most of the work for them, although they had to be mindful of shoals and other unexpected dangers along the fast-moving river.   Long shafts of sunshine slanted down upon the river through the gap in the trees above.  At places the canopies of the trees leaned out over the river, forming a vaulted corridor of sorts with a long slash of blue between them overhead.  Zenna spent the morning huddled deep within the shelter of her cloak, quietly miserable in the stern of the small craft.  Mole passed the first hour dispensing various and sometimes contradictory nautical advice until Hodge threatened to hurl her overboard; while the exchange of dwarven profanities had been temporarily amusing, she soon got tired and passed out in a small space in the back of the craft near their piled packs of supplies.  While Mole had taken care to see that they had everything that they might need in her bag of holding, after what had happened in Bhal-Hamatugn none of them begrudged being extra prepared this time out. The morning passed slowly, and as the sun rose the heat grew, despite the earliness of the season, until it hung over them like a thick cloak of hot dampness.  Masht had told them that the decapitated statue indicated on the silver plate was located about four hours’ passage down the river.  At times they could feel eyes watching them from the fastness of the jungle to either side, but other than an occasional quiver in the dense undergrowth, or a sudden splash in the water ahead of them, there were no other indications of potential threats.  Still, the companions had gone through too much together to let down their guard, especially in a region unknown to any of them. Finally, as the sun neared its zenith in the sky above them, Dannel in the prow caught sight of a clearing in the jungle ahead on the right bank of the river.  As they drew nearer they could see that the clearing formed a wedge that penetrated into the jungle for about fifty yards.  A few pieces of broken stone that were yet too regular in their placement and form to be natural were visible, shrouded in tangled weeds and clinging vines that found purchase in their pocked and worn surfaces.  Toward the rear of the clearing they could make out the looming figure of what had to be the statue marked on the plate; despite the distance they could see that the considerable monument reflected no human model.  Zenna shuddered.  “There is a darkness gathered here,” she said.  The others glanced back at her, but she did not elaborate.  Morgan looked about to respond, but he apparently thought better of it, and instead turned to face the jungle, his lips pursed, his jaw tight. The dwarves happened to be working the oars at the time, and they started directing the boat out of the main channel toward the muddy shoreline that fronted the clearing.  What they lacked in nautical skill they nearly made up for in strength and determination, and the small craft was soon arcing toward its destination.  None of them detected the danger that lurked behind the wall of tangled growth at the far edge of the clearing.  The first warning they had were the long shafts that shot out from the brush, sunlight gleaming from the heads of jagged iron as they slammed into the intruders. “Ambush!” someone yelled.</blockquote>

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