Small Beginnings - Final Update 6/18/04, ITEOTWAWKI, AIFF!

Enkhidu

Explorer
"Pitfalls", or "Good Thing I’m Not Afraid of the Dark"

Well, here it is. The end of the first chapter of the Small Beginnings Story Hour. I hope you've enjoyed it so far!

We will be archiving this portion of the story (as long as Morrus can accomodate us), so if you're new to the story so far, you can play catch up in the Story Hour archive. Feel free to point anyone who might like this story hour to that resource! Oh, and there's a goodly amount of other story hours there as well - make sure you read at least one other one on there!

And without further ado I'll get....

Oh crikey - OK here's the Tip of the Day:

"Six goblins wearing eyepatches in a canoe going across a river to ambush the PC's does not constitute a Pirate Campaign, no matter how many times you make them say 'Arrr.'"

D'Shai well and truly has pirates on the brain.

Now, as I was saying...

Enjoy!

*****

Ander heard the shifting of stone as the ground lurched beneath his feet and suddenly he stood on nothing but the breeze. Down he fell, through the thick layer of vines and toward the darkness below. If he had jumped the distance and been prepared for it, Icemantle’s boots would have protected him, just as they had when he leapt from the iron railing; but as it was, his feet came to rest heavily on the hard floor and his legs buckled beneath him. He crumpled as the unforgiving ground pummeled his body, as he groaned in pain and clutched his knee. After a few moments, his pain stopped, though he was not sure if it was the result of the numbness that set in or not.

Ander’s eyes adjusted to the thin streams of sunlight that filtered through the dense layer of vines above and illuminated a small patch directly beneath the opening, but the woodsman could tell that the chamber he was now in was larger than what little he could see. He struggled to his feet, supporting most of his weight on his staff, and looked around. Dead vines and bits of debris littered the dirt floor; but worst of all, the chamber smelled of something putrid, or dead, or both.

To Ander, shapes and images seemed to form in the darkness, only to disappear when he tried to search them out. Quickly he spun around using his staff as a pivot, straining to see what lay in the shadows. A sudden shuffle from above followed by Aurora’s melodic voice calmed the rising panic within the young ranger. “Are you okay Ander? We’re going to get you out.”

The woodsman took a deep breath to answer when he heard a series of loud clicks, and the trapdoor he had fallen through quickly began closing. “Bones!” he shouted. The thin beams of light were diminishing until only cracks of light were left and the young ranger glanced about frantically searching for something to prop open the door when, through the din of sliding stone, he heard a rustling, followed by an animal’s sneeze. Peering into the blackness, he searched for the source of the noise. Two beady red eyes, which held their small light even after the stone door above had slid into place, returned his gaze until the final click plunged the chamber into darkness.

Ander had always had a special gift with animals, but he could tell by the aggressive behavior of the rats before that nothing could stop rodents of such dire size from attacking if they were hungry, and so he acted. With a shuffled step, he brought his staff across hard into where he thought the body of the rat might be and was rewarded with a loud smack as his weapon struck soundly home. A low hiss caught his ears, and then the red eyes faded and disappeared, swallowed by the darkness. The scurry of clawed feet to his right caused the young warrior to lash out with his staff. His only reward was the empty swish of air and sudden slashing pain as something darted between his legs, taking a bite with it. A quick reverse thrust also found nothing but the blank space and earned the blind warrior yet another seeping wound.

Ander spun in circles trying to track his foe. Every sound brought an immediate strike from the young man’s walking staff, but none of them found their mark in the eerie darkness. His opponent had no such problems: the woodsman felt bite after bite tear through his flesh. The ranger could feel a half dozen cuts trickling blood, and his previous wounds from the last fight had begun to ache as well. He knew that if he didn’t act soon, his companions would find him in a rat’s belly.

Reaching into his belt pouch, Ander tried to find the healing draught that Theo had given to each of them. Without light he was forced to fumble inside the thick leather bag for the heavy silver flask. His fingers brushed against three vials in the bag, which caused the woodsman concern until he remembered that he had a pair of Wishbone’s Brews of Health in there as well. Since he couldn’t see, the woodsman withdrew the first vial in the pouch, leaving his fate to Tone, the Bringer of Good Fortune.

Knowing that either vial would aid his chances in survival, Ander quickly pulled out the stopper and chugged the vial’s contents. Before he had even fully drained the container, he felt his heart begin to race, and his muscles clenched, bursting with power the young man had never before felt. His wounds did not heal, but he could no longer feel their sting. The woodsman kicked back his head and finished off the liquid, throwing a one handed blow in the direction of the last attack in order to keep the creature at bay. Suddenly he was bathed in streams of sunlight as the trap door directly above him popped open with a heavy click.

He forced his eyes closed in surprise, and heard a sharp squeal behind him as the rat was forced to deal with the same light. His eyes had yet to adjust fully to the darkness, so he regained his sight relatively quickly; but he could only imagine how painful the sudden daylight was to the rat he was fighting. While he cleared his head, he heard rope slide over stone. “Ander. Take hold of this rope and we will lift you out.” Ashrem’s voice seemed unhurried.

“Ash! There’s a rat down here in the… AHHH!” The rat had recovered more quickly than Ander had thought, and sunk teeth into his thigh. Ander shook it off and shouted, “Get out of the way! I’m coming up!” Then the woodsman leapt.

Icemantle’s boots propelled him upward, and he easily cleared the gap between the floor and the opening. His hands gripped the edge of the stone and heaved upward, lifting his waist even with the now cleared patch of stone around the pit’s trapdoor. Theo stood nearby, dumbfounded as the ranger casually reached out his quarterstaff for help. The young man smiled as the priest grasped its haft and said, “Ready? Pull!”

Ander grabbed hold and pulled with all of his might, but Theo seemed unprepared for the newly acquired power of the woodsman’s arm. A look of confusion was fixed on the cleric’s face as he was yanked over the side and toppled into the pit. Then Ander heard a familiar clicking sound as the pit began to winch closed.

Kicking his legs, the ranger brought himself up to the surface where he saw Ashrem loading a crossbow. “I will need you to keep this trap door open, if you can,” the feloine stated. Ander moved to the side of the trapdoor and lowered his legs into the pit, finding a foothold on the quickly closing stone door. Then he pushed, using the power that flowed through his body from Wishbone’s potion. His legs quivered and he felt muscles bulge and rip at the strain, but the door did not close.

Below, he heard Brother Theo murmur a quick prayer to Zuras, and light flooded the chamber beneath. “Hold it steady, Ander,” Ashrem said to him as he took aim. With a twang, he let fly the bolt, and Ander heard a squeal from below. “Brother Theo,” said the feloine, “are there any more rodents down there?”

“No. I’ll take the rope out if you can hoist me up.”

“Excellent. If you can continue, Ander?”

The woodsman, gasped out a thin “Yes!” as he continued to strain against whatever mechanism tried to close the trapdoor. With renewed effort he heaved against the door, and suddenly found himself failing. The young man felt the potion he had taken run its course and leave him. “No!” he shouted as his legs began to collapse beneath him. As his strength left him, the door closed, pushing him back toward the surface. He rolled to the side, drained of even his natural strength, as the pain of all of his injuries came flooding back to him

“Brother Theo should come to no harm if there are no more rats in the pit,” Ashrem said, standing over Ander, staring at him as if to ask ‘What next?’ Ander paused, blankly holding the feloine’s gaze. A sudden sense of helplessness washed over the exhausted ranger, but he could feel the eyes of his companions boring into him, pleading with him to take action.

“Aurora, Pack, It will take all of us to free him.” Ander said at last. “I will hold the door open and it will be up to you three to lift Theo out. Ash, Have your crossbow ready just in case.”

“Are you sure you are up to this Ander?” Aurora questioned.

“Yeah, Ander.” Pack pitched in “I’m sure we can think of another way to do it, if…”

“I’m fine” Ander mumbled, averting his eyes as his own self-doubt began to rise in his stomach.

Ashrem nodded silently and rose, directing Pack and Aurora to prepare another length of rope while Ander sat on the ground shaking with weakness. The woodsman shook his head, got unsteadily to his feet, and began moving around to loosen sore muscles and walk off the pain. All the while, Ander listened as the others organized themselves to pull the priest to the surface. By the time the woodsman was ready, his three companions were ready as well.

Ashrem stood near the pit, ready to trigger it, while Ander took his position sitting near the end that would swing wide. Aurora and Pack stood nearby, bracing the rope that would haul the cleric up. On the count of three, the feloine triggered the pit trap and the door popped open. As if on cue, Ander threw his legs over the side and braced them there. He then used his staff to push against the stone door, keeping it from swinging back closed. The rope was tossed over the side, and shouts of encouragement were thrown down to the cleric, who began climbing hand over hand to the surface.

Ashrem moved behind the pair holding the rope and all three dug in as the line creaked: Ander watched them strain against Theo’s weight, fighting against the slip that seemed ready to happened at any moment and tumble them all into the pit. Then the young man head the click of gears and the sound of stone on stone as the door began to push against his staff. He leaned in, his body straining to keep the door open, but found himself being pushed farther backward as the stone drew inexorably closer. In his weakened condition he knew he could not hope to keep the stone door ajar.

Determined not to give in to his rising doubts, Ander heaved against the ironwood staff pushing with all of his diminished might, and found some of his natural strength returning to his limbs. Slowly, the door came to a halt, leaving an opening just wide enough for the aging priest to poke his head, then his shoulders above the edge of the stone. As the cleric rolled out of the pit, Ander’s grip on the staff slipped, and the woodsman fought to maintain control of the door. Quickly he yanked his legs from the pit, narrowly avoiding the crushing stone as the door slammed home with a heavy thud.

Knowing that everyone was safe, Ander closed his eyes and lay back in the thick vines, struggling to control his labored breathing. He could hear his companions also breathing heavily and settling in for a moments rest. The woodsman was almost startled as he felt strong hands rest upon his chest followed by Theo’s prayer and the comforting flow of Zuras’ reply as his wounds healed once again.

Once the calming sensation had worn away, Ander sat up and opened his eyes. After a quick nod and smile toward Theo to thank him and his patron for their gift, the woodsman eyed the rest of his companions. To his astonishment, each member of the group was glowing with pride and congratulating each other for their contribution and teamwork in the arrival to this unknown citadel. As he watched his friends, Ander felt his own emotions bubbling up and soon he was joining in the tiny celebration.

Ander only half listened as Pack retold the now epic journey down the switchback stairs. The young woodsman’s eyes were already looking at the ancient tower that stood before him, shrouded in the foreboding shadow of the massive cliff. One by one he felt his friends join his gaze at the massive structure and he knew that they shared his sudden sobriety as the full weight of their mission came crashing down. Somewhere deep within the halls of this sunless citadel lay the answers to their quest and each member knew, it was just the beginning.


END OF CHAPTER ONE OF SMALL BEGINNINGS

*****

Next Time join us for the beginning of part 2 of our saga:

"Into the Sunless Citadel," or "Rats! Why did it have to be Rats?"
 

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dshai527

First Post
Enk and I have decided to give everyone a special surprise and post a preview of Chapter II.

Hope you Ashrem fans enjoy it.

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Ashrem swore softly to himself for not bringing any catnip along to compliment his complete breakfast. “Grrrrreeeaaat.” He stammered. “Just Greeeaaat.” His father Bagheera would be furious with him, he knew. Slumping his shoulders and stomping his feet, the great feloine sulked after his companions. “I wonder if they know about second breakfast and self washing.” He muttered angrily, while hacking to dislodge a fur ball from last night’s bathing experience. His only hope now was that this run down old citadel had some plush furniture, drapes or a big timber for him to sharpen his claws on, because it was obvious that there would be no sunbeams to stretch out in. The feloine paused wondering if Ander would really appreciate the carcass of the rat he had killed on the stairs, but with a quick shrug he decided to move on and find out.

Next Time

" Days of our 9 lives" or " Do cats get dandruff"
 

Enkhidu

Explorer
Part II of Small Beginnings!

Hi all!

Well, my cohort in creative crime and I have been hard at work putting together some of the things you've been asking for: more background, more stats, and more Small Beginnings.

Over the next couple weeks, in addition to at least one update a week you can look for what we're terming "flashbacks." Look for them to be posted by dshai527 in order to separate them from the story proper. Basically, they're short stories showcasing one or two characters at a time. Depending on the length of the flashbacks, we'll be posting them in in either one or two parts per character. If I'm right, the first one will involve a certain Orloff: you know, of Woods fame...

Also, we're finishing up PC stat blocks, and we'll be starting a thread in the Rogue's Gallery Forum sometime soon - probably over the next few days.

Now on with the...

Dangit, even over email that so-and-so can manage to remind me to include the tip of the day. This one takes the form of a logic statement.

"It is good to keep HULK happy. Beans make HULK happy. Therefore beans are good."

Don't ask me.

Now where was I? Oh yes...

As promised, we start Part II of Small Beginnings out with an Interlude...


*****

INTERLUDE

A sharp prod on her backside yanked her from the blissful sleep that she was enjoying. With a grunt, the bloated rat queen rolled onto her belly to face her prodder and dole out punishment for the intrusion. The queen yawned, taking in the aroma of death and decay that hung in the air, and looked lazily about the dim chamber. Her eyes adjusted slowly in her drowsy state, but her keen sense of smell told the mother rat that her bestest child warrior was cowering behind the remnants of last night’s dinner. The queen swelled with pride at the fear that her subject showed and lashed out smashing the bone-hiding place with her massive jaws, sending the frightened warrior scurrying for new cover.

The bloated queen opened her massive jaws and hissed out a hoarse laugh that soon transformed into a fit of coughing; it spewed snot and phlegm out into the chamber coating the piles of bones and rotting garbage. When the mother rat recovered from the uncontrollable fit, her anger had returned. With a hiss, she summoned her subject to come before her. She watched and waited as the warrior rat peeked his head from his new hiding place and shambled forward.

A quick snap of the queen’s head taught the warrior the error of his ways, as her teeth tore clean through its ear. The queen grinned as the warrior squealed in pain and dropped down onto its belly and averted its eyes to show that it had learned its lesson. The queen looked on in amusement as the warrior now tried to move toward the queen wriggling on its belly. Just before the warrior reached the queens side, she began sharpening her teeth on the stone floor.

The queen continued this practice long after her subject reached her side and lay down. She enjoyed the shivering ripples of his muscles as each scrap echoed through the chamber. Satisfied that her teeth were now able to shear the warrior’s other ear off rather than leaving it hanging against his head, she turned her attention back to her subject. She prodded the lowly warrior, confident that he would not forget his place again.

In response to the fierce poking, the warrior rolled onto its back and faced her. With a hacking cough, the warrior opened his mouth and spit out a mouthful of garbage. The queen mother snarled one last time and then eyed the present that the warrior had delivered. She identified a smooth stone, a shiny thing, and wad of vines.

Stepping closer the rat queen sniffed at each of the items. The smooth stone smelled of the light skinned two-legs, and she knew that it was one of the rocks that they hurled at her subjects to smash their heads. The shiny thing smelled of a larger light skinned two-leg on the outside but a small round hole on the top smelled differently. The queen mother grabbed the shiny thing in her teeth and sucked on the hole as she would suck on a bone to get the sweet marrow out. Remnants of liquid touched her tongue from within the small container but the taste was foreign to her and not at all pleasant. With a grunt she turned her attention to the wad of vines and smelled the pleasant aroma of two-leg blood. With closer inspection the queen identified two different scents of two-legs along with the scent of the two-leg that once possessed the shiny thing.

The queen’s stomach rumbled at the smells before her and she realized that it had been some time since she had feasted on the flesh of light skinned two-legs. She knew that she was tired of the hard-fleshed dark skins and the sour taste of their blood. With a shrill bark the queen rat began summoning her subjects. If the light skinned walked within her tunnels then soon she would feast upon their sweet flesh.


END OF INTERLUDE

*****

Check back soon for flashbacks, infobites, and more of Part II of Small Beginnings!
 

dshai527

First Post
Ander and the Bear: Part I

Thanks once again to all of our readers and a special thanks to those of you who choose to post and let us know how you feel about our story. (Yes we do sometimes sit around the table and talk about which posters we think are the coolest. Sorry Spider but HULK bumped you from my top spot, I am afraid he will smash me if he isn't)

We really enjoy reading all the feedback on the story or just chatting in general, so if you read please post. Even if its just to say HI. Frankly, we crave the attention.

Oh boy Tip o' the Day time...I don't get special effects like Letterman or Leno...today's is more of a reminder than a tip

"Remember September 19 is National Talk Like a Pirate Day"

Talk like a Pirate Link


Well on with the show

Our first installment of the History of our Heroes

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Ander and the Bear
Part 1 of 2

Snow creaked under the young woodsman’s feet as he bent low to examine the trail. A soft flurry of new flakes floated silently around him, making it hard to determine the trail that he was investigating. Instinctively, he pulled the woolen cloak tighter about his body and shivered at the cold. The white landscape and the bitter temperature reminded him that he was a long way from the land of his birth, but he knew he would most likely never see it again. In fact, with all the snow around him, he doubted that he would ever feel the warmth of the sun again.

Shaking his head, Ander, the self-proclaimed woodsman, tried to get his thoughts back on the task a hand. The snow was falling too quickly and was covering any tracks that the little girl may have left. Though she had only been missing for a little more than half a day, Ander knew he had little chance to find her. He was new to this forest that the locals called Orloff’s Woods, but since he was given the sole rights to hunt and trap in it he felt responsible for any persons who disappeared or found themselves lost in it. He did find it odd that the Trapper family had given him charge of the largest track in the area, but he figured they were just comfortable with their usual grounds. Small village folk tended not to like change, he guessed.

Ander sighed and started to move to his left down what he thought was an old logging path when he noticed a patch of undergrowth sticking up through the snow. The other areas showed no other signs of underbrush, as the heavy snowfall weighed it all down and packed it under. The woodsman knew that only movement in that area would make the brush stick up through the snow again.

Knowing that he might be following the path of some woodland creature instead, Ander set off following the sparse trail of oddities that formed in the direction indicated by the undergrowth. A tree with no snow packed to its truck, as if someone or something had sheltered there, showed that the trail turned north heading near one of Ander’s usual trapping lines. Ander swore under his breath, hoping that the little girl hadn’t wandered into one of his winter traps. He was already an outcast in the tight community of Icemist, and this would not help his image any. Worse, his traps were humane enough to kill instantly: if he found her in one of his traps, she would already be dead.

Ander picked up his pace and raced along the hunting trail avoiding the hidden traps and snares that he had lying throughout the thick forest. His boots crunched through the snow, echoing loudly in the white silence. Suddenly the woodsman’s feet were jerked out from underneath him, and the world flipped upside down as his feet were yanked above his head. His body was hoisted into the air as he witnessed a snow-covered sapling bending upward to straighten itself.

The woodsman felt his feet slip from his hunting boots and he tumbled heavily to the ground forcing his breath to leave his body like a fast winter wind. For a moment the southern ranger lay in the snow catching his breath trying to piece together the strange incident: he knew that he hadn’t laid any traps in this location and he was sure that the locals honored his rights to these woods, almost as if they were afraid of it. Ander sat up to examine the snare, trying to divine some clue as to its origin. It was a simple tree snare with a rope loop, and with all the snow he had not seen the bent over sapling. It was only luck that he was breaking in his new, a bit too large, hunting boots. “Black Lord’s Bones,” he muttered to himself in his native tongue. “You’d think I was new at this.”

Ander stood up feeling the cold snow on his now bare feet. Shivering he moved to collect his boots from the simple snare. Jumping up he grabbed hold of the rope noose and pulled down with the weight of his body. He quickly removed his boots from the now loose hoop only to find that there was only a single boot left in the trap. The other must have been flung away when the tree snapped back after he fell. A quick scout of the immediate area showed no signs of the lone foot covering; the icy ground was beginning to burn the skin on the young woodsman’s feet.

Ander knew the danger that he was facing and immediately slashed at his cloak with his curved hunting knife creating long strips of the wool. He replaced his lone fur lined boot on his coldest foot and wrapped the other using the strips of cloth. He knew it was a temporary solution but it should last long enough to return him to his cabin.

As he turned to start back, Ander heard voices over a small rise to his right. The young woodsman froze when he realized they were not speaking the common tongue of this region, something he had only recently mastered himself. Crouching down he wormed his way on his belly to the thick evergreens that topped the rise.

Peering out from the thick needles, the woodsman learned the answer to his questions about the snare trap. A pair of short fur-covered humanoids wandered down a fresh pathway. They had skin the color of red-hot embers showing through the gaps in their hide armor and open-faced helmets and they chatted at each other with words that caused their mouth to open wide, emphasizing rows of sharp teeth. They carried short hunting spears along with a pair of javelins strapped to their packs. One of the creatures even had coils of rope hanging from his back, as well as a set of iron jaw traps.

Ander waited under the cover of the great pine tree allowing his heart to slow after what he had just witnessed. He knew that a trip back to his cabin would have to wait: if creature like those found the child before he did, she wouldn’t have a chance. Once he was sure that the creatures would not double back, he rolled out from the covering and began tracing their steps.

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dshai527

First Post
I know I originally said that Ander and the Bear was going to be a two-part story, but as we got writing, the storyboard just kept getting longer and longer as we added detail and tried to get the "feel" of the charater. We hope that it comes through, and we hope to keep it going with the other back stories we plan to do.

As for this story, it has turned into a three-parter. More bang for your buck. We will post part 2 today and give you the finale tomorrow. Hope you enjoy it. Oh, and let us know who you wanna see back story for next. (yes HULK we know, Worm or you'll smash us)

On that note Tip O' the Day (this one comes from Ray in New York)
"If Someone asks if you're a GOD (or a pirate), you answer YES!"

I know we stole that from a movie, but hey I'm late for a meeting today. Have Fun!

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Ander and the Bear

Part 2 of 527

With great caution Ander trailed the mysterious pair, making sure to remain out of sight and stepping where his footfalls would make the least amount of noise. The tracker followed until he heard their raspy voices coming from up ahead, around a snowdrift. He paused and listened, waiting for some indication as to why the pair had stopped, and a new voice, much deeper than the others, joined in the conversation. The voice barked out authoritatively, its staccato syllables accompanied by sounds of punching and slapping.

Using the noisy outbreak to his advantage, Ander pushed off the small trail and into the trees in order to circle the unseen trio. Moving carefully, the woodsman picked his way around the snow bank and found a suitable hiding place behind a boulder on the other side of his prey. On his way there, he scooped a small handful of snow into his mouth, and by the time he had found his spot his breath was as invisible as if spring had just begun.

Once settled in and confident of his camouflage, Ander peeked around the snow-covered rock to see the cause of the commotion. The first thing that the novice ranger noted was the ensuing argument between the two trap-laying creatures and a larger scar-faced version of their kind. The larger one, Ander assumed him to be the leader, seemed to be berating them and pointing somewhere out of the young man’s field of view from his perch behind the rock. Whatever the reason behind the abuse, it appeared to the tracker that the argument was quite heated.

Moving slowly, the ranger leaned out over the other edge of the rock to get a peek at the cause of such a feud. Ander could see that these creatures had made a small camp behind an uprooted tree. The tree looked new-fallen, likely due to the heavy snowfall, and the goblins, for he was now sure that that is what they were, though he had never seen one, were using the roots as cover against the freezing wind.

Ander almost winced as he peered further around the rock to see a spear-wielding sentry standing only a few feet from his position, followed by five more of the small flame-skins huddled around a coal pit. The woodsman fought to remain clam, seeing that the goblins all appeared to be enjoying the misery of their berated companions. Not knowing how much time he had left, Ander took a chance and leaned farther out, exposing himself a little more than he would like, in order to get a look at what was beyond the coal pit before deciding his next action.

Ander felt a scowl form on his face as he spied the unmistakable golden hair of the missing child, the same bright colored curls that adorned his youngest sister’s head, lying just to the side of the coal pit wrapped in dirty blankets. The young girl lay with her back to the ranger, but he could still make out her rhythmic breathing, indicating that she was probably asleep. He could also make out a small loop of rope lying over her shoulder and guessed that the goblins had bound her in some way.

Pulling himself back behind the stone cover, Ander swore softly to himself, knowing that he could not overcome such lopsided odds. Even with the element of surprise, he was far outnumbered and could not afford the time to go get help. Worse, he had lost feeling in his left foot, he needed to act soon to avoid permanent damage to his appendage. The woodsman tasted blood and realized he had once again bit his lip in angry concentration. I won’t fail again. I won’t let this little girl, or her family, down.

With renewed energy, Ander began formulating a plan to rescue the child. He took stock of his equipment - he had brought only his long knife and bow with him in order to travel fast and light. Neither weapon was well suited for this type of attack: the knife lacked reach to battle multiple foes and the snow flurries made it difficult to target the bow beyond a few paces. He doubted his shots could drop all the goblins before they could harm the girl, even using the flurries to his advantage. After what felt like an eternity of debating, Ander knew he had no other options and began silently stringing his bow.

Gripping the white hued hunting bow, the woodsman began quietly maneuvering toward the over tipped tree. He planned to use the tree trunk’s higher ground to more accurately pick his targets while letting the upturned roots protect him from return fire. It would also blunt the snowstorm from obscuring his vision, but with the wind whipping at his back the flurries would still hamper his foes.

Suddenly a deafening roar from behind him caused the woodsman to spin around with arrow nocked, ready to fire. Ander’s heart jumped into his throat and his limbs froze in fear at the sight of the beast that ambled toward him on two legs, while roar after roar shook the forest, knocking loose clumps of snow from treetops.

At first glance the creature resembled a bear, but it stood tall as the towering trees that rose around it as it roared again before falling back on all four legs. It had brown fur the color of tree bark except for dark patches where it appeared that the fur had clumped together to form plates and spikes hard as armor. It had enormous black claws the size of small swords and a mouthful of teeth that could easily rip a large elk in two with a quick snap. It stood once more and roared out another challenge, seemingly puzzled as to why the tiny human had not run in fear.

Ander watched, paralyzed, as the bear once again dropped to all fours with a forceful thud and began shuffling toward him. The powerful creature flowed with a grace that belied its size and power, gliding between the trees and snow banks but not disturbing them. The woodsman could feel the creature’s dark eyes focused on him, just as he would focus on a target before letting loose the bowstring. He could see the powerful muscles ripple as the giant bear prepared to rend him in two, and then he was saved......
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I know, now we are just taunting you with the bear. Isn't it fun?
 
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dshai527

First Post
Ander and the Bear: Part III

Alright people, here it is, the finale for Ander and the Bear.

Oh and the tip O' the Day (Special Pirate Edition in Honor of our National Holiday)...

"Arrr. Scalawag don't mean wot ye think it mean, ye landlubbin' barnacle."


*****
Ander and the Bear

Episode 3 of 527, a Finale

Both Ander and the Bear turned as shrieks and cries erupted from a trio of goblins as they rushed out from their camp and spied the monstrous creature for the first time. It appeared to the woodsman that he was forgotten for the moment as the mighty Bear crashed into the terrified goblins ripping and clawing at anything that moved.

Blood coated the white terrain as the Bear’s claws tore one goblin’s head from his shoulders while the massive jaws swallowed another practically whole. The remaining goblin hurled its spear straight ahead at the beast while backpedaling to run away. It never made it, as the long arms of the giant Bear swatted out like a battering ram and sent the goblin flying back into the camp, smashing face first into the boulder that Ander had used as a hiding spot, leaving a thick streak of red as it slid to the snow beneath.

Ander stood by horrified at the destructive power of the gigantic beast but at the same time he saw his opportunity to save the child. Mustering up his courage, Ander rolled under the uprooted tree and ran around the roots hopping to snatch up the girl and run while the goblins were busy with the bear. Once he had gained his feet though, he was nearly knocked over by six fast moving goblins and only an angry roar gave the woodsman time to roll back under the trunk before four powerful paws ripped through the snow covered turf where he had once stood as the Bear gave chase to the half dozen fleet footed humanoids.

Ander once again pulled himself up from the snow and moved into the now vacated camp. Without pausing he moved quickly to where he knew the child had been, and sighed loudly when he came around to find the small child still sleeping peacefully under the mountain of blankets. Quickly he gathered the girl up, noticing a small mark on her neck that indicated to him that she had been drugged by a dart of some sort, and headed out the way he had originally come.

Ander cradled the small child as he ran, retracing his path and trying to get back onto his normal trails as the howling winds carried horrified goblin screams to his ears. The woodsman could no longer feel his left foot and saw blood marking his trail when he turned to check for signs of pursuit. In the distance he heard a mighty roar and the woodsman somehow knew that the goblins would no longer be a concern for the villages. Dropping his head, Ander doubled his effort and ran harder.

When he reached the tree line that he had first noticed the goblins, Ander slowed a bit knowing that he was now back in familiar territory, but more importantly he slowed knowing he had to be careful of his own traps. With the heavy snowfall, many of the landmarks that he used for navigation were now invisible. Carefully, he set back toward Icemist, limping on his numb foot.

A sudden burst of wind showered the ranger and his charge with stinging snow, obscuring his vision for a brief moment. Crouching down, Ander pulled his cloak around the pair and huddled against the fierce gusts. After a moment the sudden storm died and the woodsman peeked out from the hood of his covering. Oddly, though he could no longer feel the wind, he noticed that the flurries still whirled away to either side like a stream would flow around an island.

Strange panic washed over Ander as he felt, more than heard, a guttural rumbling shake his bones. Tears welled up in the young trackers eyes as he felt fetid breath warm his shoulders. With a look down at the small bundle that lay in his arms, the ranger prepared for one last desperate dash and gathered his legs beneath him.

With a grunt, Ander pushed his legs against the ground as hard as he could and sprang forward, hoping to catch the Bear off guard. Time seemed to slow to the woodsman as he leapt forward; his breath hung silently frozen in front of his face and out of the corner of his eye he could see the monstrous paw angling toward his head. Closing his eyes, the young ranger pushed on, preparing for the fatal blow.

Ander felt the remaining air blast from his body as a heavy blow to his waist twisted him sideways and hurled him into the air. A sharp prick to his temple sent waves of pain through his head but the woodsman managed to contort his body so that when he smashed into the snow the young child in his arms was cushioned on top.

The woodsman felt fresh blood running down his cheek as he scampered backwards and opened his eyes, expecting the beast to be upon him. Instead, Ander was surprised to find that the great Bear was not even looking his direction. Glancing down the path where the bear seemed to be focused, the young woodsman now understood why he was still alive.

He could see a man rising from the snow, coming to his feet from the tackle that had saved the young woodsman’s life. As his savior stood fully, Ander saw long stark white locks of hair whip over the man’s shoulder, dancing in the snow flurries. He was not what the young Ionian would have called large, but he easily filled out the fur trimmed, winter white armor that he wore, and his limbs were powerfully built. Ice blue eyes caught Ander’s gaze for just a moment, and in that brief span of time the young ranger knew that he had found a kindred spirit of the forest.

“Orloff!” the man bellowed through the now howling wind as Ander watched him circle to stand between the bear and himself. “Let it go Orloff, he is not one of them. He came to save the girl.”

In response to the winter warrior’s words, the Bear stood up, towering over the humans, and roared.

“I know he has been trapping in your woods, but the others tricked him. He didn’t know.” The Bear roared again: Ander could swear he could hear anger in its rumble. “Orloff, please, I don’t want to fight you.” As he spoke, the woodsman watched the white-locked warrior pull two knives that resembled sharpened deer antlers from his belt and settled back into a more defensive stance. With a slight dip of his head, the stranger turned slightly toward the young woodsman and said, “Run.”

At first, Ander was confused about the simple word that he had just heard, but when the white warrior yelled it again as the bear charged forward, the young man knew just what to do. Planting his hand into the ground, the ranger pushed himself to his feet and let his survival instincts take over.

Ander felt sharp stings from the blood and sweat that flowed into his eye as he dodged and cut between snowdrifts. The woodsman weaved in and out of the trees and his body became numb from the cuts and smacks he endured from stray branches and fallen timbers. It soon became obvious to the panicked ranger that he had lost any sense of direction and was just blindly fleeing through the dense forest.

With his one good eye, Ander tried to pick out any familiar landmarks or features, but the increasing snowfall blanketed the region and cut visibility dramatically. The woodsman slowed his pace and tried to wipe the blood from his face and gather his wits when his bootless leg finally gave out and sent him crashing to the snow. To make matters worse, the ranger had been on top of a crest and soon he found himself tumbling down, flipping and rolling until he finally came to an abrupt stop face first into a snow-covered log.

The ailing woodsman tried to rise but the cold had finally taken its toll and his muscles refused to cooperate. With the last of his energy, Ander curled up around the swaddled child in hopes that his heat would protect her until help arrived. Knowing that he had done all he could, Ander closed his eyes and listened to whistling wind.

“Delphia!” The cry jostled the ranger back to consciousness, and he raised his head to peer into the snow-filled night. The sight of torchlight radiating through the winter storm send jolts of excitement through the freezing young man. Laughing with giddy excitement, the woodsman noticed through the torchlight that he had rolled right out of the forest and onto the plains near Icemist. Ecstatically he began yelling. “Here we are! Here we are!”


Epilogue

Ander limped back to his bed after fetching the hot stew from the fire. His foot was still very tender from its time in the snow, but the mixture of herbs that Lizon had given him in gratitude for his deed had really done the trick. It had even managed to dull the pain from the head wound he had received.

Still, Ander knew that it would be awhile before he would be able to brave the weather enough to resume his trade. Now that he knew the truth behind Orloff’s woods though, he would have to “have a talk” with the Trapper family about new land rights before he could continue anyway. Besides, little Delphia’s family had made sure that he was stocked for the winter, so it would be some time before he needed anything.

A rough knock at the cabin’s door interrupted the woodsman’s diner. Grunting in pain as he stood once again, Ander shambled to see who could be visiting him way out here. Gripping the rough pine handle, he opened the door, shivered as the cold wind whipped through the small cottage and snow danced in along with it. Moving quickly, a white furred figure stepped into the warmth of the hut and shook the snow from his head. The winter warrior had every bit as powerful a presence to the woodsman here as he did during those desperate moments in the woods.

“You did well Ander; you should be proud.” The man said in low, soft tones as he stepped over to smell the stew. Ander could see now that even though he sported the white hair of an old man, the warrior was not at all old: maybe only a few winters older than Ander himself.

“My pack calls me Icemantle. Like you, I‘ve taken it upon myself to protect these lands. With the Northern Tribes always at war, I stay mostly in the shadow of the mountains, trying to keep their bloodshed from spilling over as far south as Icemist, and keeping safe some of those too stubborn to leave for safer pastures. It keeps me busy, and I don’t get to come down this way as much as I’d like to get news and supplies.” Icemantle fixed Ander with a long, penetrating, stare. “It relieves me greatly to know one like yourself has chosen to take residence near here and watch over these folks.

The snow ranger paused and rummaged through a sack that hung on his belt, producing a pair of fur lined leather boots from with its folds. “Here,” he said, “to make up for the one you lost.” He spoke while thrusting the boots at the young woodsman. Ander quietly accepted the present and stared back at the warrior, confused as to the purpose of the gift.

“I have lived in these artic wilds my entire life, but I see by your skin that you come from the southern lands: by your tan I’d say that this is your first real winter. Those boots were given to me when I first left the civilized lands and started out on my own: now I pass them on to you, just as you will pass them on when you have found someone worthy. They were enchanted by a forest shade – with them you can run like the wolf and leap like the deer. They will help keep you alive until first thaw, when I can return and teach you a bit more about the land you now choose to inhabit. Take care, Ander Tobin. May the Spirit of the Forest watch over you.”

With that Ander watched the artic ranger open the door and disappear into the swirling snow, leaving behind only the crackling fire.

End of Flashback

*****
 


Enk&D'Shai

First Post
Part II - “Into the Sunless Citadel,” or “Rats! Why Did It Have to be Rats?”

Hi all! Enk here!

Well, the beginning of Part II of Small beginnings is finally here, and I hope you're going to enjoy it.

As you can see from the name we are posting under, D'Shai is here with me, and I suppose it's time to let him speak for himself at post time. Right D'Shai?

I finally got into the billing Ma, I'm somebody! This is better than new phonebook day!

You see what I put up with?

Anyway, we might as well get right to the post this week. So without further ado...

Tip O' The Day

"Really Enk, if you put cartoon character names into the story hour no one will notice. Its like Survivor, nobody cares."

Ooooooo Kayyyy.

Anyway, Part II starts off with your favorite ManimalTM, Ashrem.

Enjoy!


*****

Ashrem ran his hands over the worn wood of the large door. He had already determined that it held no hidden mechanisms or traps, his feline eyes and sensitive fingers picking out details that others, even the other scouts in his unit, would have had difficulty finding. He leaned into the door, and found it opening far more easily than he had thought it would. With a squeak, the door swung wide. Surprised, the feloine glanced at the now exposed hinges, and saw the tell tale signs of oil stains around the iron bracings. “It seems someone has been here recently,” he softly murmured.

The familiar creak of Ander’s studded leather jack brought Ashrem’s arm up in front of his new friends, stopping them before one of them strode through the opening. After no more than three heartbeats, the feloine’s eyes adjusted to the relative darkness beyond the door and he slowly moved through the opening. He was greeted by the smell of something long dead.

The stone floor was covered with rubble, and the scout looked up as he entered what he surmised was a collapsed tower. He could see the remnants of stone floors ringing the walls, though all that was left of the floors themselves were piles of old brick and stone. Across the rubble covered floor a lone goblin body was pinned to the wall, feet hanging in the air, a long shaft of wood sprouting from its chest. A wooden door was set to either side of the dangling goblin corpse.

The feloine stepped lightly into the room, sniffing the air. In addition to the scent of long dead goblin, he found the faint yet ever present odor of rat, but the smell was not new, and was not nearby. Behind him, he heard the others move into the room, following his path as well as they were able; a faint smile played over his feline lips as he tried to place the various footsteps: the whisper-like light steps of Aurora; Pack’s gentle padding; the familiar, surefooted tread of the woodsman, Ander; as well as Theo’s heavy booted stomp mixed with the jangling of his chain armor. Ashrem stifled a chuckle as he realized that the cleric, even when attempting to remain quiet, could not help but to mimic the loud and forceful nature of his god: he wondered if the old warrior did it purposefully. He also heard the sound of flint cracking against steel as a pair of torches was lit.

Ander’s voice carried throughout the dimly lit chamber, “Theo, check out the goblin over there. Ashrem, check for rats in the rubble.”

The feloine cautiously sifted through the pile nearest him as he heard Aurora speaking with Ander. “I have asked Athena to wait outside and watch the area. If we have not returned in a few suns – I mean, a few days - she is to try to lead the horses back to the village.”

“Good.” Ander’s voice seemed distracted to the feloine scout. “There’s no telling what we may find under here. Hopefully this will be strictly in and out, but…”

Theo’s basso interrupted the woodman before he could finish his statement. “Thunder take me,” he boomed out, “we may have even more trouble than we thought. Come look at this.” His voice was accompanied by the scraping of wood and steel on stone.

Already satisfied that the rubble currently held no rodents, Ashrem joined his friends as they gathered around the goblin now slumped on the ground. The crumpled corpse no longer had a spear shaft growing from its chest but had fallen away to reveal a blood encrusted patch surrounding a deep hole about the size of a spear shaft.


“Bones,” whispered Ander, “look at the spear.” Ashrem’s gaze followed the olive skinned woodman’s finger toward the dried blood on the shaft, a full six hands down the wood from the weapon’s head.

Pack’s small voice sounded even smaller in the resounding silence. “Gods. I don’t even think Worm is that strong.” His face was pale even in the light of the torch he had set into a cradle that rose above his backpack.

“Maybe whoever did it is on our side?” Aurora said. “You know, ‘The enemy of my enemy’. Right?”

“I’m hoping we don’t have to find out. This body looks about a ten day old, and I think the survivors went through the right door,” Ander stated.

Ashrem responded, “I suggest that until we can find out more about what is down here, we stay off the beaten path.”

“The left door it is then!” Ander said in agreement. “Ash, you first and Theo in the rear, lets move cautiously.”

Ashrem looked at the door as he moved towards it, eyeing it as he would an armored foe on the battlefield. His keen eyes probed every grain of the wooden portal searching for signs of defense triggers or traps. When he was confident that there were no visible clues of foul play, the feloine closed his eyes and let his paws drift lightly over the moldings and cracks of the door. After several long moments, the scout was sure that the door was free of traps and proceeded to pull it open.

Dust clouds billowed up as Ashrem yanked the door aside. The feloine’s eyes quickly adjusted to the few streams of light that made it into the room, but he knew it would be several more moments until this dust cleared from his nose. Not wanting to waste any element of surprise that he might have on any occupants of the room, the scout moved inside quickly and scanned the room.

The room was empty other than a pile of barney rubble that blocked the far side of the room: it appeared to the feloine that the ceiling on that same side would prove unstable and would soon join the piles of rock below it. On the wall to his right though, the scout noticed a huge stone slab set into bricks itself. The slab looked hinged like a door, but had no evidence of a handle or keyhole. Peering closer Ashrem noticed carvings on the door. They were old and almost invisible but the feloine could make out the design of a great dragon standing on a mountaintop unfurling his wings in a silent roar. Behind the great wyrm, images of hundreds of smaller dragons took flight from caves set within the carved mountain.

Sounds of footsteps reminded the feloine that his companions were following him into the room. “You will need a torch if you come in here.” He called back at the group as he started over to examine the pile of rubble.

Illume” Ash heard Aurora mutter as she stepped into the room brandishing her wand. Suddenly the room was filled with tiny glowing dragons no larger than a horsefly, flying in a whirlwind around the sorceress. The feloine blinked in wonderment at the flying orbs, but within a breath they blinked out leaving only a dull torch glow emanating from the young maidens outstretched wand.

Scowling to himself about being taken off guard so easily, Ashrem returned to examining the rock slide. Bending low to the ground, the feloine scout sniffed at the rocks and peered into the deep shadows between the nooks and crannies of the shifting rubble. Intent on his search, he took no notice as the others spread out to examine things for themselves.

The powerful odor of rat musk assaulted his nose as his gaze chanced upon a small opening in the pile of fallen stone. In the blackness of the crack he saw two beady red eyes staring back at him, and he thought he heard the quiet scrabbling of claw upon rock. He stood slowly, never taking his eyes away from the rubble, and moved to intercept his friends.

Aurora had made a beeline for the stone slab of a door, and her wand had made visible the elegant etchings on the stone. As she tentatively reached out a hand to caress the dragon carved there, Ashrem’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist in a firm but gentle grip. “Please, my lady, do not touch that before I have taken the opportunity to do my duty.” Ashrem immediately, moved to stand in front of the door and began to scan it’s surface. As he did so, he spoke in low tones.

“Ander, I suggest you look at the rubble pile. We have watchful visitors, it seems.”

“Rats?” Ander moved over toward the pile: Ashrem watched the woodsman interpose his beaten and bruised body between the stones and the rest of the party.

“At least two, I believe, though there may be more.”

“All right, everyone out. I don’t feel like getting swarmed again.”

Theo’s rumble echoed through the chamber. “Strange, I would have expected them to be on us by now if they were in there.”

“We can’t afford to take chances. If these things are actually smarter than average rats then they’re likely more dangerous – apart from being as big as they are, too.”

Moments later, the friends closed the door firmly behind them. After another moments rest in which Ashrem checked over the remaining door, Ander led the way into a short hallway. The smooth stone of the floor, ceiling, and walls shone dully in the combination of torchlight and the mystical aura of Aurora’s wand. One either side, directly facing one another, two doors stood. On the right, a simple, brass bound wooden door stood ajar, while on the left, another stone slab stood sentinel. The hallway ended a dozen paces away from the intersection of doors in a large door.

Wordlessly, the friends split up to survey their surroundings: Pack and Theo peeked through the open door, and then disappeared into the chamber, out of the feloine’s view. Aurora stood slack jawed in front of the stone door. It was covered with a bas-relief of a great, turtle shelled dragon, and though she traced the designs in awe, Ashrem saw that she did so at a respectful distance from the actual carving.

Ashrem grinned at the young sorceress and moved with Ander cautiously forward toward the door. He scoured the door with his eyes first, and his fingertips second. Finally, satisfied that it was safe to open, he turned back toward Ander, who stood looking back at Aurora, still deeply entranced by the things she saw in the door. A quiet cough brought the woodman’s head back toward the scout.

“No dangers, and no noises, Ander,” he murmured.

“Good, let me get the others.”

“No need for that, son.” Ashrem silently swore that he would never get used to the way the aging cleric’s voice could resound indoors, even when the older man tried his best to whisper. “The door led to nothing but empty stone, and we are all here.”

Ashrem looked back at the gathered companions. Pack had a faint smile on his face, while Theo’s jaw had a resolute caste to it. Aurora glanced back over her shoulder, obviously distracted by whatever she had seen on the door, and Ander had a look the scout could only describe as resigned. The woodman nodded, and leaned against the door.

The wooden portal swung wide on rusty hinges, and groaned. To the feloine, it seemed as if an army of old hinges opened in unison and all other sound was drowned out as the door opened fully and landed against the stone behind it with a thud.

For several long moments, the companions did not move, even to breath. The deafening silence left in the wake of the squeaking hinges weighed heavily on the scouts ears, until he heard soft, regular, breathing as if someone or something lie in wait. Puzzled, he crept into the room, holding up a hand to stop his friends from following. The stealthy scout smelled death all around him and knew that he was not alone. Perking his ears forward the great panther honed in on the sound of his prey. Drawing Razor from its sheath, Ashrem prepared to pounce.


*****


Next week!

"Enemies or Allies?" or "Mr. Meepo Goes to Washington"

See you in 7!
 
Last edited:

Enk&D'Shai

First Post
"Enemies or Allies?" or "Mr. Meepo Goes to Washington."

And you thought we forgot about posting this week!

Well here it goes...

Hey! what about the Tip o' the Day?

Can we just once NOT have a Tip of the Day?

No.

But...

No.

Listen, I just think...

Do I have to post the pictures from last New Year's party?

OK! You win! Tip o' the Day is?

Aluminum foil is not a substitute for silvering weapons, even with the shiny side out. I don't care what your werewolf friend says.

You know, I figure eventually you'll run out of these things.

You better hope not, or HULK will smash (sorry guys, but the idea of Thorntangle, LiVeWiRe, or Black Bard smashing just doesn't fill me with the same amount of dread).

Oh yeah (think happy thoughts Dr. Banner!).

Anyway, we've got a special post, just for our favorite whipping boy, HULK. It stars Worm, and will hopefully soon be illustrated by Claudio Pozas (yeah right, like he'd touch this one with a Long Paintbrush (d2-1, x2, Reach). Not even a Brilliant, Holy, Bane vs. Silliness Long Paintbrush of Speed +2. Maybe a +3.

*****

See Goblin.

See Goblin run.

Run, Goblin, run!

See Worm.

See Worm run.

See Worm run after Goblin.

Run, Worm, run!

See Worm catch Goblin.

[THIS SCENE HAS BEEN EDITED DUE TO GRAPHIC VIOLENCE]

See red spot.

See red spot run.

Run, spot, run!

The End.

*****

And now, for those of us not in anger management classes....


*****

"Enemies or Allies?" or "Mr. Meepo Goes to Washington"

Meepo kicked involuntarily under the thin blanket as he tried to flee the nightmares that invaded his sleep. Images of nasty goblins thiefing his baby Calcryx played over and over again like his hatch mother’s whip when he was bad. The kobold knew that the wyrmling was his responsibility. He had earned the honor of being the hatch keeper - he had endured the Test of Nasty Things; but those dung grubbing goblins had taken that all away from him. Now the Iron Handed God sent the nightmares to torture him until he met the dark skinned taker of souls.

The kobold whimpered and kicked at the thought of a soul-taker but Meepo knew that he deserved it for not protecting Calcryx with his life. It was not his fault, he had tried to die, but the dung grubbers smacked their clubs like new hatches. He did not even have off-colored skin spots from their weak non-scaly arms. The hatch keeper had gotten worse hurts from Cal’s love bites and cuddling. He missed her.

Suddenly, the blanket was ripped from the kobolds head while a dark figure wrestled with him, finally pinning him from behind and forcing a shiny blade before his throat. Meepo stared at the black arm that held that blade and knew that a soul-taker had come for him. A velvety voice, like a dragon’s purr, whispered into his half chewed ears. The language of the voice was unknown to the helpless keeper, but he understood the unspoken language of the blade. With a deep sigh, the proud kobold closed his eyes and forced his neck forward.

Meepo strained against the arm holding him, but he didn’t feel the sting of the metal blade on his neck scales. Knowing that the great after-cave could not be reached without great pain, the kobold opened his eyes to see what was keeping his punishment. He noticed that the blade had been moved to his right, and the kobold knew that his soul-taker was torturing him, baiting him with the sharp metal edge.

Pushing with all his might, the strongest kobold in the clan tried once again to make his penance, but his efforts were to no avail. The dully glinting promise of death was still out of reach, and the tightly locked arm holding him proved too firm. The dark figure behind the kobold once again growled in the strange guttural language, but this time it seemed to Meepo that he grunted to someone else.

The kobold prisoner watched as a new group of figures appeared from around the pen’s exit door. Meepo quivered in fear at the thought of multiple soul-takers, but he knew that losing a wyrmling dragon-god was a terrible crime that called for a terrible punishment. The dragon keeper bit back sobs, determined to take his punishment like a true keeper to appease the great Scorch God and take his spot in the great feasting cave. He prayed that his sin was not awful enough that he would not be at the great feast, but instead in it. Meepo held his breath in anticipation as the figures moved from beyond the door and came into his full view.

Light.” One of the figures spoke a word filled with dragon magic, and a brilliant burst of color blinded the kobold for a double heartbeat; when his eyes cleared the room was lit with a soft glow. Meepo’s eyes adjusted as he felt his shadow vision adjust to fire light vision, and the kobold gasped in denial as light revealed the figures to be surface dwellers, and light-skinned dwellers at that. Three of the figures were tall, like a chief of the dung grubbers and the third was short like him. The captive kobold realized that they must be great warriors because they had new armor, probably the best of their clan. He also noticed that one of the figures, the one who commanded dragon magic, was different - it had red fur, like Scorch fire, and curved differently than the other surface walkers.

Meepo felt the arms slowly release from around his neck and the soul-taker wrapped in black cloth stepped around him into view, still brandishing his shiny blade at the kobold. The wyrm keeper nearly fainted as a realization washed over him. The fire furred one is a Scorch Angel. She has brought a soul-taker and surface warriors to help me get Calcryx back from mean nasty dung grubbers! The Scorch God knows I am a good dragon keeper. Fire-Fur is an Angel in disguise to get aid from a soul-taker and the surface warriors! She has strong dragon magic!

Meepo, giddy with excitement, barely noticed as the Angel and her warriors talked amongst themselves in some strange surface speak and pointed at him. The small kobold twirled around looking for something to clean with, to make himself presentable to the Angel. The room lay exactly as the dung grubber raid had left it: blood, both goblin and kobold, coated the entire room and Calcryx’s cage had been mangled and overturned, the puddles of water scattered around it the only reminders of Calcryx’s frosty breath, and the ritual symbols etched and painted by Yusdrayl, the kobold chieftain, had become scratched and barely visible. The only thing not showing signs of battle were the crates of rat bodies that Meepo used as wyrm food.

“I be a Roar-Ah, who be you?” Meepo broke from his search as the Angel’s voice floated over him, commanding his attention. The kobold stared in awe at his god’s messenger, for she spoke in the true dragon-speak forbidden by the clans, and he fought to make some sense of the higher language of the dragon gods and remark back to her. When nothing but a gasp of air escaped from his mouth, the kobold noticed that the Angel turned and spoke with the soul-taker and surface walkers again.

“I am Meepo! Keeper of Dragons!” he finally pronounced, puffing out his chest but making sure to use only the speech allowed of the lower clans. He watched, stricken, as Angel, soul-taker, and surface dwellers all turned to look at the prideful kobold. Oh! he thought, Maybe even the Keeper of Dragons isn’t allowed to speak to an Angel! Meepo’s knees quivered and he fell to the ground, begging for mercy. “Please not kill Meepo! Please not kill Meepo!”

With his face pressed close to the ground and his eyes held tightly shut, Meepo did not hear the Angel approach him. When he heard her voice flow over him, he half expected to begin the Burning, but instead she knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “No one be hurting you.” The keeper looked up into her flame fur ringed face and, for the first time since Calcryx had been taken, felt safe. It wasn’t until after he stopped gazing into her eyes that he noticed the soul-taker close behind him, ready to collect his due, and one of the tall surface walkers with a huge bow trained on his chest.

Instinctively, he jumped into the Angel’s arms. “Don’t kill Meepo! Don’t kill Meepo!” he screamed. He buried his snout in the Roar-Ah’s warm chest and wailed, oblivious to the hurried conversation between his Angel and her minions. The Angel rocked him gently as she whispered to her servants, and after a long tense moment for the kobold, she set him back on his feet.

“No one hurt Meepo.” She stated it, almost as if it was for the surface dweller’s benefit rather than the keeper’s. He looked around at the Angel’s servants: they had all relaxed visibly, though Meepo was sure that the black wrapped one still wanted to take his soul. Knowing that the Angel had favored him, he took a deep breath, and began.

“Meepo know you here to bring back Calcryx! Meepo take you to Yusdrayl!” When Roar-Ah paused, as if surprised the kobold had continued speaking to her divine prescence, Meepo fell to the ground and prostrated himself before her, awaiting her fiery vengeance.

But instead of waves of fire melting his scales, Meepo lay stunned as the Angel simply said. “Who is Yusdrayl?”

He popped his head up long enough to say “Yusdrayl clan chief!” and duck again, though this time, he kept one eye open and looking directly at Roar-Ah. She didn’t seem ready to burn him. “Meepo take you there?”

Long moments later, filled with a brisk conversation between the surface dwellers and their mistress, the Angel turned back to Meepo and said, “Yes, take us to Yusdrayl.” With a yip, Meepo jumped up and took Roar-Ah’s hand, padding toward the center of the warrens, and Yusdrayl.

*****

Next week:

“You Scratch My Back and I’ll Scratch Yours,” or, “What’s Behind Door #1”
 

Enk&D'Shai

First Post
“You Scratch My Back and I’ll Scratch Yours,” or, “What’s Behind Door #1”

Vo-lare, o-wo! Chicken con carne, o-wo-wo-wo-wo.

Uhh, D'Shai, it's time to post again.

Shut up! The tsunami scene is coming up! Tsunami! Tsunami!

Look, if you don't pause Escape from LA right now, I'm giving the DVD to Yoda the dog.

That's OK, I've got it on LaserDisc and VHS too.

My hate for you knows no bounds. Well, it looks like I'll be flying solo for this post of Small Beginnings, so please return your tray to the upright position, and...

You suck! Now move over, I'm doing Tip o' the Day!

OK! Stop with the noogie!



Tip O' da Day
"666 is not the number of the beast, it is an 18 in your preferred stat."


Shoot me now.

*****

“You Scratch My Back and I’ll Scratch Yours,” or, “What’s Behind Door #1”





Aurora held her left hand high, the magically glowing wand nestled between her long fingers, and illuminated the dank passageway. Her right hand was firmly in the grip of the small, scaled creature called Meepo.

It hadn’t taken long for her to become thoroughly lost, as the kobold had set a blistering pace for one so short and their route had been one of twists, turns, and passed doors. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at the others, and caught Ander’s eyes. Aurora gave a questioning shrug, and the olive skinned young man nodded in response – she supposed that meant she should continue as if all was normal. The red haired sorceress gave a slight nod of the head in return, just in time to have the scaly creature clinging to her hand give another sharp tug as he took yet another turn.

Aurora allowed herself to be drug along the corridor by the strange little thing. To say that the kobold was ugly would have been an understatement – scars covered its scaly hide, and its mouth was full of sharp and crooked teeth. Yet, behind that reptilian mask, the creature’s eyes spoke of a great sadness, or maybe a great loss. Strangely, the young woman found herself feeling more than a bit sorry for the poor thing – no, not thing: it’s name is Meepo.

Several times, they had been challenged by more kobolds. The scaly creatures had mostly been armed with spears, and had looked ready to either charge or run if Aurora or her friends had made a sudden move. However, each time a group of beasts had shown themselves, Meepo had held up his free hand and barked out a greeting. “This Rora burned angel! Take to Yusdrayl!” Each time, the challengers had let them pass, only to fall in behind the group and escort them along. As the throng of kobolds following them grew, Meepo’s high pitched hiss grew in volume: “This a burned angel Rora! Take to Yusdrayl!”

The young sorceress despaired of ever understanding exactly what the kobold was saying: he spoke a version of the Draconic she had learned in Tor, but he did so very badly. Or, more probably, he spoke a completely different dialect than she had learned while being tutored.

The kobold finally came to a dead end door and halted. He turned back toward Aurora and made a gurgling sound, as if he was clearing his throat. “Rora angel? Yusdrayl inside!” He then pushed open the door and led the red haired sorceress into a long, pillared chamber.

The walls of the chamber were covered in kobolds, and each pair of reptilian eyes trained on the group. Aurora walked slowly forward, slowly becoming aware that their stares were not for the group as a whole, but for her specifically. She felt the weight of their collective gaze, and her knees nearly buckled. Only Meepo’s gentle tug kept her upright and moving. Though she knew that her friends stood close by, for the first time on this journey she felt truly alone.

At the far end of the room, torches lit a huge stone carving of a dragon, its tail arcing up over its back. There Aurora saw a mass of blankets and pillows acting as a cushion, and atop the cushions sat a kobold, wrapped in an ankle length mantle. Above the kobold’s head, a large golden key hung from the dragon’s stone tail.

Aurora looked left and right as she slowly approached the makeshift throne. Ashrem and Ander, their hands gripping their respective weapons, had already moved next to the kobolds ringing the walls of the room. Pack and Theo had moved up behind her, their eyes scanning the crowds that formed behind them. The sorceress kept moving slowly forward, and soon became aware that Meepo now walked beside her. He had not, however, let go of her hand, and clutched it fiercely.

“Who be you?” the kobold on the dais demanded.

Aurora paused, searching for the right way to answer the question. “We are...

“This Rora! She be true burned angel and have dragon magic! She come to rescue Calcryx!” Meepo’s outburst seemed to surprise even him, and the heavy silence that followed his proclamation was followed by a series of gasps and murmurs from the crowd of kobolds now surrounding Aurora and her friends. Several of the creatures fell to their knees and bowed their heads, and a soft chant began in another part of the throng.

“SILENCE!” The kobold on the throne swung a pointed finger slowly over the crowd. “Rora angel’s words not for clan! GO!” For a moment, it looked as if the kobold clan would disobey Yusdrayl, for that was certainly who sat atop the dragon throne, but they eventually shuffled away, some through the doors that lined the walls, and some far to the back of the long chamber, lost in the shadows.

“Now, why you come here, ‘Rora angel’?” The way she spit the words out made it plain to the young sorceress that Yusdrayl didn’t hold her in near as high the esteem as the other kobolds did.

Aurora paused a second, looking at Meepo sternly to stop him from blurting anything more out. She was scared: anxious that their mission, and maybe her friends’ survival, rested on what she would say. Finally, trying her best not to let her nerves show on her face, she addressed the kobold leader.

“I am Aurora, and I will ask the questions.” It was a dangerous gambit, but the young woman couldn’t think of anything else. “I demand you tell me why you attacked the surface village of Icemist, and what you did with the children you took!”

Yusdrayl looked shocked, or at least Aurora thought she did: the kobold was extremely hard to read. “We not attack Icemist! We…” The chieftain quickly recovered and her eyes narrowed. “If you Rora angel, why you not know we not attack Icemist? Why you really here?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Ahh… you from old master. You tell old master clan have new mistress now. True mistress. Dragon mistress. You tell old master that is why we no attack Icemist like he ordered us to, and clan not play his games anymore. We live here now. And if you come to kill clan, you die first…” Yusdrayl let a hand slip to a pouch resting on her small hip and tensed. Aurora recognized it as the beginnings of spellcasting and quickly backtracked.

“No! I am not from your old master. I come to find the children taken from Icemist. No more.”

“Why you want hatches from Icemist?”

“That is my concern, as the Aurora angel.”

Yusdrayl sniffed and cocked her head to the side. “I know where Icemist hatches are.” Aurora could almost feel the kobold’s eyes bore into her as the small chieftain sized her up. “But why I tell you? You great ‘Rora angel.’ You should know. Rora angel should know hatches be sacrificed at first frosts…”

The sorceress turned to look at her friends. Ander stood tightly gripping his staff, while Ashrem prowled on the outskirts of the light, ready to pounce: neither would be of help to her right now, though. Instead she sought out the faces of Pack and Theo, standing side by side. “The chieftain knows where the children are, and has said they will be sacrificed at the first frost. What should I do?” she said breathlessly.

Theo whispered back, “Get more information. Are the children here?”

Aurora turned back toward Yusdrayl and opened her mouth to speak when the kobold cut her off, speaking Torian in a hissing accent. “The hatchlings are not here.” Aurora must have showed her surprise at the language. “Yes, I speak your upworld tongue. And, yes, I now know what I wanted to know. You are not what Meepo said you were. You are simply surface dwellers.”

Yusdrayl crossed her small, scaly arms. “None of my clan know your upworld speech, so I will make this short. In return for the information about your hatchlings, you will find our dragon Calcryx and return her to us.” At the sound of Calcryx’s name, Meepo became agitated, but quieted with a glare from Yusdrayl. “She was recently taken from us by the dung grubbing goblins while under Meepo’s ‘care.’ After you return with our new mistress, you will get your information and then leave. You will not return. Agreed?”

Aurora replied in the same tongue, “We will need more information about this dragon, you will need to send messages not to do anything to the children.”

“Do not try my patience. You will get more information about the dragon, and I will send runners to where your hatchlings are, if you do not do this thing for me, or rather, for us. If you fail, those runners will warn the ones who took them that you are coming. If you succeed, then I will not send runners. Fair enough?” The kobold seemed to mock the sorceress with every word.

“We will need somewhere safe to prepare for what is to come.”

The kobold seemed to consider this for a moment, while looking at Meepo. “Yes, you will have both information and your safehole. You have until first meal, then you will be on your way.” Yusdrayl switched back to her native tongue and shouted, “Clan to me!”

Moments later, the so recently dispersed throng reassembled, crowding forward to hear the news of the deal made between their chief and the Rora angel. Once they had gathered again, Yusdrayl addressed them. “My clan! Rora angel will bring back Calcryx!” Stomping and hissing went up from the crowd and startled the sorceress: the kobolds’ cheers were not what she had expected. “They honored guests till morning meal!”

“Meepo!” Yusdrayl pointed directly at the cringing kobold. “For you failure, you punishment to die!” A murmur went up among the crowd, it didn’t seem to the young sorceress that the clan was pleased by this declaration. “But you bring us Rora angel, who here to get back Calcryx.” Yusdrayl seemed deep in thought: Aurora could tell the chief had a sense of drama, and was working the crowd to advantage. “And Rora angel need guide to dung grubbers.” The head kobold raised scaly fists. “Meepo be that guide! Go, Meepo! Come back with Calcryx and clan not feast on marrow of your bones!”

The crowd stomped, hissed, and hooted, their din deafening to the sorceress. Several kobolds approached and escorted Aurora and her friends into a large room off the main hall, bowing and scraping as they did. The young woman paused for a moment at the doorway as her companions were ushered inside, almost basking in the stomps and hisses of kobold cheers. Then with a sigh, she trudged into the room, Meepo still in tow.


*****


Tune in next time for....

"Calm Before the Storm" or "Can I Still Buy Backpack C"
 
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