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The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is LIVE! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Small Beginnings - Final Update 6/18/04, ITEOTWAWKI, AIFF!
- Thread starter Enkhidu
- Start date
Enk&D'Shai
First Post
Hello readers! Sorry about the delay, but I have been waiting on D'Shai. He's running late as usual and..
You! You lowlife! I'm on to you, bucko!
Bucko? What in the year of living dangerously are you talking about? and why are you dragging a safe?
You know what I'm talking about, and my new dice are in the safe where you can't touch them.
*groan* Look, we told you last Sunday, nobody is out to get your dice.
Ha! Liar. I saw the looks on your faces last gaming session. I know. You even have my own wife plotting against me. My own wife!
You rolled ten 20's in one combat- eight of them on attack roles, the other two on critical saves. The six of us had a total of one between us, and it was on initiative.
You went first, didn't you?
My init mod is +7, and the bag guys rolled a 2. Your dice could have killed someone!
Thats my job...I'm the DM! Ever since my dice were stolen those years ago, and I still think it was you or Fett, you guys have had it easy, but with my new preciousssesss you guys have a taste of the old me back...and I can smell your fear.
What? Fear? That was Jon the Nudist's burritos! Anyway, you never used those other dice as a DM anyway, only as a player. You were the one who said it was too unfair to use your lucky dice as a DM, not us. Well maybe Fett after the 'Night of 100 Arrows', but not the rest of us.
I'm not taking any chances. I saw that Aurora deposited $10 in our checking account the other day...I wonder where the money came from. Hmm?
Oh for the love of ...we are not, I repeat, not bribing your wife to curse your dice...
that you are aware of.
What was that last part?
Nothing, now do the tip of the day.
Never let anyone else, even your better half, touch, look at, breath near, talk about, or kiss your dice...they may be trying to curse them. Yes they may..you never know. Trust me on this one. I have been there.
Calm down D'shai. Hey, didn't you have a safe a minute ago?
What! Ahhhh!
*****
Interlude
Chi-ratuck raised a hand to brush the fur between his horns, and grinned fiercely when his hand came away wet with human blood. He saw the human he had battered, the one bleating orders between bloody coughs, clutching his ribs, and Chi-ratuck’s grin became a rictus of glee. The interlopers may have destroyed much of his work, but they had also reminded him how much he missed the sound of an enemy’s breaking bones. Chi-ratuck wondered for a moment if he could prolong their pain, but glanced at the piles of half completed projects and decided that his employers’ orders took precedence over his own entertainment. He would have to end it quickly.
He moved quickly away from the invaders, most of which were still recovering from the fireball from the one of the Charred Hands. The fools’ leader cried out for one of his underlings to stop him, but Chi-ratuck had already reached his sanctum controls.
They had surprised the demon with their initial assault, and again when the runt managed to move forward enough to destroy his staff with the Charred Hand, but this was his sanctum. Even incomplete, it was filled with deadly devices that sprang from his own mind: a mind whose soul purpose was the creation of destruction. Come, fools! Come and find your death!
With a sharp downward tug of a lever, Chi-ratuck activated his traps and gleefully watched as the bulk of his foes fell through the floor.
End of Interlude
*****
“Aurora!” Ander cried as the stone floor beneath the red haired sorceress disappeared. The woodsman threw himself toward the newly opened pit, reaching out for the woman, and his fingers closed on her outstretched wrist. Then his chest slammed into the floor as Aurora’s weight threatened to yank him over the pit’s stone lip. His broken ribs shifted as he fought to stop his slow slide, and his shoulder and then his head came free of the stone floor to dangle over the ten foot deep pit, which Ander could now see was full of jagged spikes and blades.
“Hang on,” he grunted through clinched teeth, barely able to fight off a bout of dizziness. “Going to… get you out.”
Aurora’s lips moved in response, but her words were drowned out by the heavy drum beat in his temples as he fought to stop his dangerous slide. Suddenly, Meepo appeared from below the woman, clambering over her and then Ander as he scrambled out of the pit. Instantly, the dragon keeper took hold of the much larger woodsman, lending the surprising strength of his small frame to the task, and moments later Ander hoisted Aurora free of the trap with the kobold’s help. As he did so, he caught site of Theo and Pack on the other side of the pit, motionless atop the spikes.
For a horrible moment, Ander stared at his two dead friends, willing them not to be dead. When he finally saw a slight movement from Pack, he rushed to the edge of the pit again. “Pack! I’m coming!”
“Not so loud, boy. We can hear you,” Theo groaned from beneath the halfling.
Ander stopped for a moment, stunned to see that the priest was alive. Then he smiled in astonishment as he saw that Theo had managed to angle his shield so that it had hit the spikes first and deflected most of the impact. The shield would never be used again, and Theo stilled bled heavily from several puncture wounds that the shield hadn’t stopped, but the gruff old man had saved both himself and Pack, although they were both still trapped down at the bottom of the trap. “Don’t worry,” Ander said, “We can get you out.”
“No lad,” the priest called back, his voice weak but firm. “Go finish this. My lord’s grace will protect us till you get back.”
Theo’s comment made Ander turn white. Ash! Ander turned to see his closest friend, the friend he had left to battle the demon alone, staggering like a drunkard over the checkered floor. The feloine showed no visible wounds, but the scout’s lips moved as he mouthed words too quiet to hear and his blade dangled loosely from his hand. A few steps away, the demon stood, laughing. The woodsman saw that many of the demon’s wounds had closed – some had even disappeared – and others knitted themselves before his eyes.
Suddenly, the scout turned, his blade falling from his hands and wild look in his eyes. “You! You killed them all!” the feloine roared, yanking his crossbow from his sack and loading it in a single fluid motion. “I will have revenge!”
Ander watched as Ashrem spun in place to train his crossbow on the demon and kept going; too late the woodsman realized that the scout’s target was at the other end of the room. He watched helplessly as the feloine fired his weapon and the bolt buried itself in Meepo’s shoulder. Only the agility of the small kobold had kept the shaft from burying itself in his chest, but still the dragon keeper was seriously wounded.
Ander let loose a frustrated scream, “What are you doing, Ash?”
“He’s under a spell!” Aurora shouted, while kneeling and trying to yank the bolt free from the kobold. “I can’t tell what it is, but he doesn’t have control!”
The demon laughed again, longer and harder. “Of course he doesn’t have control! This is place is mine, and now he is mine!”
Time seemed to slow for the woodsman as he the demon stood roaring with laughter. Meepo was down and moving feebly, Theo and Pack were at the bottom of a spiked pit, Aurora looked winded from spellcasting, and Ash was under the control of a demon. We’re going to lose. We’re all going to die. The thought strangely calmed the woodsman, and he stooped to gather his staff from where it lay near the pit. “Aurora, get ready to hit him with your dragons when I charge, and stay away from Ashrem,” he murmered, just loud enough for the sorceress to hear him, “and keep hitting him until you can’t any more.” He softly clicked his heels together and felt a rush of magic from Icemantle’s Boots. “Then get Theo and Pack out of that pit so you can get the hells out of here. We’re all going to die, but I’m going to make sure I take him with us!
Ander leapt forward, the magic of his boots propelling him across the room in a single bound. Aurora’s magic dragon missiles flew by him and smacked into the demon’s chest, and as he flew he felt a sheet of ice graze his back and saw a blue disk appear underneath him, but neither stopped him from driving his staff down on the demon’s head with a furious two handed strike as he landed.
The demon retreated, and even in his fury Ander saw that the demon did so with uneven steps, as if he was avoiding triggers of some sort. Ander followed, trying his best to tread only in the demon’s path, but was covered with a shower of blue sparks as he tried to keep up. The sparks clouded his thoughts, making it difficult to concentrate on what he was doing. For a heartbeat, he almost stopped and dropped his staff, but from somewhere behind him, he head Pack’s reedy voice.
The bard’s voice seemed muted and far away, as if Ander was stuck in a bank of fog, but it grew stronger, singing a song that seemed familiar, though he had never heard it before. Pack sang of stolen children, and brave friends, and Ander shook his head clear. It told of a long journey and dangers shared, and Ander advanced on the demon, twisting his body to the side as the demon threw its head forward at his chest. It told of new friends found in unexpected places, and Ander snarled, driving the demon back with fierce two handed swings while another pair of magic missiles seared into it. And then it told of a dragon and its rescue, and Ander ran out of luck.
The woodsman heard his left shoulder pop as the demon rammed it solidly and the warrior screamed. His scream was echoed behind him as he saw Ashrem narrowly avoid a jet of flame. The scout tucked and rolled, coming up over the woodsman and burying Razor in the demon’s hip. Ander dragged himself behind the feloine and struggled to his feet, drawing his longknife with his right hand while his left arm hung limp at his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Pack and Aurora lifting Theo out of the pit.
Ander turned back toward Ashrem and the demon as the scout slashed the fiend’s shoulder open. “Now demon, you will…” he hissed, and then stopped as if he had forgotten that he was in a fight for his life. The demon laughed a braying laugh and rammed his horned head directly into the scouts face.
The woodsman hesitated a moment, weighing the feloine’s chances if he didn’t intervene immediately, and use Icemantle’s boots to spring away, across the room and to the lever laden alcove. Then, with a glance toward the pit to make sure Theo was clear, he lifted the thrown lever and the pit closed. “Get him!” he cried.
Theo, looking bruised and battered but no longer bleeding, charged the fiend, both hands whirling his flail. It struck the beast, but rebounded harmlessly.
“Baa-ramyu!” the demon cried, and then buried his horned head in the priest’s face, stifling the priest’s attempt to close the door. The stone door swiveled quickly on its hinges, and Ander groaned.
“Pack! Aurora!” the woodsman shouted, “Look out behind you! Its…”
It was the biggest wolverine Ander had ever seen, and it was standing over the mauled bodies of several dwarven guards. It growled, roared, and charged across the room, barreling into the demon.
“Bunny?” Pack said.
“Don’t just stand there, lads,” Theo cried through a bloody mouth, “Finish this!”
A dozen moments later - after knife wounds, flail strikes, magical missiles, sword slashes, and the claws and teeth of a raging wolverine took their toll - Ander watched as Ashrem plunged his sword into the demon’s head. It collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.
Ander walked gingerly over to the feloine, who stood glaring at the demon as it slid off the blade of his sword. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
The scout didn’t look up as he very simply said, “That felt good.”
*****
Next Time:
Escape and Excitement as our heroes run for the hills!
You! You lowlife! I'm on to you, bucko!
Bucko? What in the year of living dangerously are you talking about? and why are you dragging a safe?
You know what I'm talking about, and my new dice are in the safe where you can't touch them.
*groan* Look, we told you last Sunday, nobody is out to get your dice.
Ha! Liar. I saw the looks on your faces last gaming session. I know. You even have my own wife plotting against me. My own wife!
You rolled ten 20's in one combat- eight of them on attack roles, the other two on critical saves. The six of us had a total of one between us, and it was on initiative.
You went first, didn't you?
My init mod is +7, and the bag guys rolled a 2. Your dice could have killed someone!
Thats my job...I'm the DM! Ever since my dice were stolen those years ago, and I still think it was you or Fett, you guys have had it easy, but with my new preciousssesss you guys have a taste of the old me back...and I can smell your fear.
What? Fear? That was Jon the Nudist's burritos! Anyway, you never used those other dice as a DM anyway, only as a player. You were the one who said it was too unfair to use your lucky dice as a DM, not us. Well maybe Fett after the 'Night of 100 Arrows', but not the rest of us.
I'm not taking any chances. I saw that Aurora deposited $10 in our checking account the other day...I wonder where the money came from. Hmm?
Oh for the love of ...we are not, I repeat, not bribing your wife to curse your dice...
that you are aware of.
What was that last part?
Nothing, now do the tip of the day.
Never let anyone else, even your better half, touch, look at, breath near, talk about, or kiss your dice...they may be trying to curse them. Yes they may..you never know. Trust me on this one. I have been there.
Calm down D'shai. Hey, didn't you have a safe a minute ago?
What! Ahhhh!
*****
Interlude
Chi-ratuck raised a hand to brush the fur between his horns, and grinned fiercely when his hand came away wet with human blood. He saw the human he had battered, the one bleating orders between bloody coughs, clutching his ribs, and Chi-ratuck’s grin became a rictus of glee. The interlopers may have destroyed much of his work, but they had also reminded him how much he missed the sound of an enemy’s breaking bones. Chi-ratuck wondered for a moment if he could prolong their pain, but glanced at the piles of half completed projects and decided that his employers’ orders took precedence over his own entertainment. He would have to end it quickly.
He moved quickly away from the invaders, most of which were still recovering from the fireball from the one of the Charred Hands. The fools’ leader cried out for one of his underlings to stop him, but Chi-ratuck had already reached his sanctum controls.
They had surprised the demon with their initial assault, and again when the runt managed to move forward enough to destroy his staff with the Charred Hand, but this was his sanctum. Even incomplete, it was filled with deadly devices that sprang from his own mind: a mind whose soul purpose was the creation of destruction. Come, fools! Come and find your death!
With a sharp downward tug of a lever, Chi-ratuck activated his traps and gleefully watched as the bulk of his foes fell through the floor.
End of Interlude
*****
“Aurora!” Ander cried as the stone floor beneath the red haired sorceress disappeared. The woodsman threw himself toward the newly opened pit, reaching out for the woman, and his fingers closed on her outstretched wrist. Then his chest slammed into the floor as Aurora’s weight threatened to yank him over the pit’s stone lip. His broken ribs shifted as he fought to stop his slow slide, and his shoulder and then his head came free of the stone floor to dangle over the ten foot deep pit, which Ander could now see was full of jagged spikes and blades.
“Hang on,” he grunted through clinched teeth, barely able to fight off a bout of dizziness. “Going to… get you out.”
Aurora’s lips moved in response, but her words were drowned out by the heavy drum beat in his temples as he fought to stop his dangerous slide. Suddenly, Meepo appeared from below the woman, clambering over her and then Ander as he scrambled out of the pit. Instantly, the dragon keeper took hold of the much larger woodsman, lending the surprising strength of his small frame to the task, and moments later Ander hoisted Aurora free of the trap with the kobold’s help. As he did so, he caught site of Theo and Pack on the other side of the pit, motionless atop the spikes.
For a horrible moment, Ander stared at his two dead friends, willing them not to be dead. When he finally saw a slight movement from Pack, he rushed to the edge of the pit again. “Pack! I’m coming!”
“Not so loud, boy. We can hear you,” Theo groaned from beneath the halfling.
Ander stopped for a moment, stunned to see that the priest was alive. Then he smiled in astonishment as he saw that Theo had managed to angle his shield so that it had hit the spikes first and deflected most of the impact. The shield would never be used again, and Theo stilled bled heavily from several puncture wounds that the shield hadn’t stopped, but the gruff old man had saved both himself and Pack, although they were both still trapped down at the bottom of the trap. “Don’t worry,” Ander said, “We can get you out.”
“No lad,” the priest called back, his voice weak but firm. “Go finish this. My lord’s grace will protect us till you get back.”
Theo’s comment made Ander turn white. Ash! Ander turned to see his closest friend, the friend he had left to battle the demon alone, staggering like a drunkard over the checkered floor. The feloine showed no visible wounds, but the scout’s lips moved as he mouthed words too quiet to hear and his blade dangled loosely from his hand. A few steps away, the demon stood, laughing. The woodsman saw that many of the demon’s wounds had closed – some had even disappeared – and others knitted themselves before his eyes.
Suddenly, the scout turned, his blade falling from his hands and wild look in his eyes. “You! You killed them all!” the feloine roared, yanking his crossbow from his sack and loading it in a single fluid motion. “I will have revenge!”
Ander watched as Ashrem spun in place to train his crossbow on the demon and kept going; too late the woodsman realized that the scout’s target was at the other end of the room. He watched helplessly as the feloine fired his weapon and the bolt buried itself in Meepo’s shoulder. Only the agility of the small kobold had kept the shaft from burying itself in his chest, but still the dragon keeper was seriously wounded.
Ander let loose a frustrated scream, “What are you doing, Ash?”
“He’s under a spell!” Aurora shouted, while kneeling and trying to yank the bolt free from the kobold. “I can’t tell what it is, but he doesn’t have control!”
The demon laughed again, longer and harder. “Of course he doesn’t have control! This is place is mine, and now he is mine!”
Time seemed to slow for the woodsman as he the demon stood roaring with laughter. Meepo was down and moving feebly, Theo and Pack were at the bottom of a spiked pit, Aurora looked winded from spellcasting, and Ash was under the control of a demon. We’re going to lose. We’re all going to die. The thought strangely calmed the woodsman, and he stooped to gather his staff from where it lay near the pit. “Aurora, get ready to hit him with your dragons when I charge, and stay away from Ashrem,” he murmered, just loud enough for the sorceress to hear him, “and keep hitting him until you can’t any more.” He softly clicked his heels together and felt a rush of magic from Icemantle’s Boots. “Then get Theo and Pack out of that pit so you can get the hells out of here. We’re all going to die, but I’m going to make sure I take him with us!
Ander leapt forward, the magic of his boots propelling him across the room in a single bound. Aurora’s magic dragon missiles flew by him and smacked into the demon’s chest, and as he flew he felt a sheet of ice graze his back and saw a blue disk appear underneath him, but neither stopped him from driving his staff down on the demon’s head with a furious two handed strike as he landed.
The demon retreated, and even in his fury Ander saw that the demon did so with uneven steps, as if he was avoiding triggers of some sort. Ander followed, trying his best to tread only in the demon’s path, but was covered with a shower of blue sparks as he tried to keep up. The sparks clouded his thoughts, making it difficult to concentrate on what he was doing. For a heartbeat, he almost stopped and dropped his staff, but from somewhere behind him, he head Pack’s reedy voice.
The bard’s voice seemed muted and far away, as if Ander was stuck in a bank of fog, but it grew stronger, singing a song that seemed familiar, though he had never heard it before. Pack sang of stolen children, and brave friends, and Ander shook his head clear. It told of a long journey and dangers shared, and Ander advanced on the demon, twisting his body to the side as the demon threw its head forward at his chest. It told of new friends found in unexpected places, and Ander snarled, driving the demon back with fierce two handed swings while another pair of magic missiles seared into it. And then it told of a dragon and its rescue, and Ander ran out of luck.
The woodsman heard his left shoulder pop as the demon rammed it solidly and the warrior screamed. His scream was echoed behind him as he saw Ashrem narrowly avoid a jet of flame. The scout tucked and rolled, coming up over the woodsman and burying Razor in the demon’s hip. Ander dragged himself behind the feloine and struggled to his feet, drawing his longknife with his right hand while his left arm hung limp at his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Pack and Aurora lifting Theo out of the pit.
Ander turned back toward Ashrem and the demon as the scout slashed the fiend’s shoulder open. “Now demon, you will…” he hissed, and then stopped as if he had forgotten that he was in a fight for his life. The demon laughed a braying laugh and rammed his horned head directly into the scouts face.
The woodsman hesitated a moment, weighing the feloine’s chances if he didn’t intervene immediately, and use Icemantle’s boots to spring away, across the room and to the lever laden alcove. Then, with a glance toward the pit to make sure Theo was clear, he lifted the thrown lever and the pit closed. “Get him!” he cried.
Theo, looking bruised and battered but no longer bleeding, charged the fiend, both hands whirling his flail. It struck the beast, but rebounded harmlessly.
“Baa-ramyu!” the demon cried, and then buried his horned head in the priest’s face, stifling the priest’s attempt to close the door. The stone door swiveled quickly on its hinges, and Ander groaned.
“Pack! Aurora!” the woodsman shouted, “Look out behind you! Its…”
It was the biggest wolverine Ander had ever seen, and it was standing over the mauled bodies of several dwarven guards. It growled, roared, and charged across the room, barreling into the demon.
“Bunny?” Pack said.
“Don’t just stand there, lads,” Theo cried through a bloody mouth, “Finish this!”
A dozen moments later - after knife wounds, flail strikes, magical missiles, sword slashes, and the claws and teeth of a raging wolverine took their toll - Ander watched as Ashrem plunged his sword into the demon’s head. It collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.
Ander walked gingerly over to the feloine, who stood glaring at the demon as it slid off the blade of his sword. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
The scout didn’t look up as he very simply said, “That felt good.”
*****
Next Time:
Escape and Excitement as our heroes run for the hills!
skullsmurfer
First Post
yes!! kill demons, kill more stuff, then run like hell. thanks for the update i was waiting for it. can i have some more?
It just occured to me that the rest of the madlib is filled in:
"Of course, I'm not so sure we would've been so keen on attacking had we known that he could use our own magic items against us. And we were all equally suprised when he finally managed to open the door and found a raging wolverine waiting impatiently..."
By the way, I have it on good authority that the next post will be called "Half-orc on the homefront."
"Of course, I'm not so sure we would've been so keen on attacking had we known that he could use our own magic items against us. And we were all equally suprised when he finally managed to open the door and found a raging wolverine waiting impatiently..."
By the way, I have it on good authority that the next post will be called "Half-orc on the homefront."
Enk&D'Shai
First Post
Hi all!
D'Shai and I have agreed that the previous post was perhaps the hardest section we have written yet, but not for any reasons that we could figure out. Maybe it was writers block, or memory lapses as to just what happened and at what point, or maybe it was because Roadhouse was on TNT 3 nights in a row. Anyway, we did this little interlude to get our minds back on track and give us a break from the fight. Hope you enjoy.
Interlude
The floorboards creaked under the weight of the pacing half-orc, groaning in protest with each plodding step. Worm barley noticed the noise, instead losing himself in thoughts about Pack and those that traveled with his little brother. The hulking warrior turned and took a step back the way he had come, after once again coming to the by now familiar fire pit of his family’s kitchen, when the rustling of feathers gave the giant pause. He slowed, stopping to ruffle the large white owl that rested over the hearth.
The bird had shown up a few nights after Pack and the others had left Icemist, swooping in through the front doors and perching high in the rafters. Lizon had identified the bird at once as Aurora’s pet, Athena. No, not pet, ‘familiar’, Worm corrected himself, still unable to fathom the difference between the two titles. The owl had at first unsettled the half-orc, nearly sending him off on a rampage to find his brother, but Lizon had stopped him, pointing out that the owl was probably sent by Aurora as a sign that they were all just fine. But every night since Athena’s arrival, Worm had found himself pacing the floor, worried and unable to sleep, just as he was now.
“As long as you’re just fine, they’re just fine.” Worm said, still patting the bird on the head. Yet the statement rang false in Worm’s ears, and made him furious. Finally, he let the anger flow.
“No!” Worm roared, turning to smash his beefy fists into the closest table. The hardwood oval top splintered and cracked with the force of the blow, and the flower vase atop it shattered as it jumped and fell to the flagstone floor. “As long as you’re just fine, Aurora is just fine! Hells! Pack, you’re not a hero!”
“Worm!” Lizon barked, her voice startling the warrior who had thought himself alone. “I will not have you talking nonsense in our home!”
“It’s those damn books and that damn minstrel!” Worm countered a little more harshly than he intended. “He believes those stupid stories about knights and dragons, honor and bravery.”
“And just what is wrong with those things?” The look on his mother’s face told him that he had spoken too quickly. Again. The look in her eye wasn’t too far different from when he had pushed over the switching tree two years ago, and it made him feel every bit the 15 year old boy that she knew him to be.
“Well nothing for a story,” he said defensively. Yet he rallied, “But this is real life and Pack is no knight. He can barely handle that old knife I gave him.”
“You obviously didn’t pay attention to Thadius’ stories like your brother did.” The tiny woman pushed a broom into the Worm’s hands as she spoke, motioning for him to sweep up the mess he had just made. “Just because Pack isn’t able to parry, riposte, and thrust like you doesn’t mean he doesn’t posses what it takes to be a hero. Durnan taught you both how to fight if I remember correctly, and although he didn’t take to it quite like you did, I think he still learned the most important lesson. Right?”
“’Winning a fight is secondary to living through it.’ I know.”
“Besides, he isn’t alone. Theo, Aurora, and Ander went with him, not to mention Ander’s friend who seemed very impressive during the raid. They all did.”
“Theo’s old, Aurora’s fresh from the city, nobody knows much about Ander and they know even less about his friend. I mean he looks like a leper and...”
“and they need your strength? The great and mighty Wyrm of the Northlands to protect them? What have you done that they haven’t Worm? They fought next to you, even Pack, when the kobolds attacked. They risked their life same as you and they won, just like you did. I know you want to be with them…” Lizon paused and reached up top lay a hand on her son’s shoulder from behind. “But that’s not the way it is.”
Worm felt his mother’s thin arms try to encircle his chest as she tried her best to hug him. “Your brother is already a hero, and so are you.” She gave him one last squeeze and headed back up the staircase toward her bedchambers. “Now clean up and get to bed. The winter chill is almost here and we still have festival plans to attend to.”
Worm grumbled one last grumble as her legs disappeared. “There shouldn’t be a festival without Pack…or the others.”
Lizon’s voice lilted down from above, “You think Pack would miss Festival? The fastest way to get them home would be to get everything ready. I guarantee you, your little brother would move the heavens and the earth rather than miss the mid-week tale telling contest. Now hurry up.”
Worm made a half-hearted attempt at sweeping up the shards of broken pottery, finally giving up and moving to the window to look out at the nearly full moon in a clear sky. He looked for a while, and sighed, “Hells, Pack, you’re not a hero…”
End of Interlude
D'Shai and I have agreed that the previous post was perhaps the hardest section we have written yet, but not for any reasons that we could figure out. Maybe it was writers block, or memory lapses as to just what happened and at what point, or maybe it was because Roadhouse was on TNT 3 nights in a row. Anyway, we did this little interlude to get our minds back on track and give us a break from the fight. Hope you enjoy.
Interlude
The floorboards creaked under the weight of the pacing half-orc, groaning in protest with each plodding step. Worm barley noticed the noise, instead losing himself in thoughts about Pack and those that traveled with his little brother. The hulking warrior turned and took a step back the way he had come, after once again coming to the by now familiar fire pit of his family’s kitchen, when the rustling of feathers gave the giant pause. He slowed, stopping to ruffle the large white owl that rested over the hearth.
The bird had shown up a few nights after Pack and the others had left Icemist, swooping in through the front doors and perching high in the rafters. Lizon had identified the bird at once as Aurora’s pet, Athena. No, not pet, ‘familiar’, Worm corrected himself, still unable to fathom the difference between the two titles. The owl had at first unsettled the half-orc, nearly sending him off on a rampage to find his brother, but Lizon had stopped him, pointing out that the owl was probably sent by Aurora as a sign that they were all just fine. But every night since Athena’s arrival, Worm had found himself pacing the floor, worried and unable to sleep, just as he was now.
“As long as you’re just fine, they’re just fine.” Worm said, still patting the bird on the head. Yet the statement rang false in Worm’s ears, and made him furious. Finally, he let the anger flow.
“No!” Worm roared, turning to smash his beefy fists into the closest table. The hardwood oval top splintered and cracked with the force of the blow, and the flower vase atop it shattered as it jumped and fell to the flagstone floor. “As long as you’re just fine, Aurora is just fine! Hells! Pack, you’re not a hero!”
“Worm!” Lizon barked, her voice startling the warrior who had thought himself alone. “I will not have you talking nonsense in our home!”
“It’s those damn books and that damn minstrel!” Worm countered a little more harshly than he intended. “He believes those stupid stories about knights and dragons, honor and bravery.”
“And just what is wrong with those things?” The look on his mother’s face told him that he had spoken too quickly. Again. The look in her eye wasn’t too far different from when he had pushed over the switching tree two years ago, and it made him feel every bit the 15 year old boy that she knew him to be.
“Well nothing for a story,” he said defensively. Yet he rallied, “But this is real life and Pack is no knight. He can barely handle that old knife I gave him.”
“You obviously didn’t pay attention to Thadius’ stories like your brother did.” The tiny woman pushed a broom into the Worm’s hands as she spoke, motioning for him to sweep up the mess he had just made. “Just because Pack isn’t able to parry, riposte, and thrust like you doesn’t mean he doesn’t posses what it takes to be a hero. Durnan taught you both how to fight if I remember correctly, and although he didn’t take to it quite like you did, I think he still learned the most important lesson. Right?”
“’Winning a fight is secondary to living through it.’ I know.”
“Besides, he isn’t alone. Theo, Aurora, and Ander went with him, not to mention Ander’s friend who seemed very impressive during the raid. They all did.”
“Theo’s old, Aurora’s fresh from the city, nobody knows much about Ander and they know even less about his friend. I mean he looks like a leper and...”
“and they need your strength? The great and mighty Wyrm of the Northlands to protect them? What have you done that they haven’t Worm? They fought next to you, even Pack, when the kobolds attacked. They risked their life same as you and they won, just like you did. I know you want to be with them…” Lizon paused and reached up top lay a hand on her son’s shoulder from behind. “But that’s not the way it is.”
Worm felt his mother’s thin arms try to encircle his chest as she tried her best to hug him. “Your brother is already a hero, and so are you.” She gave him one last squeeze and headed back up the staircase toward her bedchambers. “Now clean up and get to bed. The winter chill is almost here and we still have festival plans to attend to.”
Worm grumbled one last grumble as her legs disappeared. “There shouldn’t be a festival without Pack…or the others.”
Lizon’s voice lilted down from above, “You think Pack would miss Festival? The fastest way to get them home would be to get everything ready. I guarantee you, your little brother would move the heavens and the earth rather than miss the mid-week tale telling contest. Now hurry up.”
Worm made a half-hearted attempt at sweeping up the shards of broken pottery, finally giving up and moving to the window to look out at the nearly full moon in a clear sky. He looked for a while, and sighed, “Hells, Pack, you’re not a hero…”
End of Interlude
