"The More the Merrier," or "More Fuel for the Fire!": Part Two
Nothing to see here. Just move along. Its just the end of the Second Act. C'MON PEOPLE MOVE IT!
*****
"The More the Merrier," or "More Fuel for the Fire!": Part Two
“FULMENTICTUS!”
A strange tingling sensation spread down the bard’s arm, and suddenly he felt as if he had plunged through river ice in the middle of winter and then immediately been thrown into Onkus’ forge. A stream of fire poured from Pack’s outstretched hand, burning the unsuspecting twigling. Pack felt a cold sweat bead on his brow.
Two more jets of fire spewed from the glove in quick succession, each burning a twigling. As he mopped his brow with the hem of his tunic, the halfling could feel Theo and Ashrem staring at him. “Hurry Ashrem, Ander needs help!” he croaked, his throat parched from the heat emanating from the glove.
Ashrem started at the bard’s voice, and the feloine loped off to aid their commander, leaving Theo and Pack to check on Aurora and Meepo. That pair didn’t seem to need any help, and the halfling saw the sorceress trotting over to meet them. Behind her, Pack saw Meepo jumping up and down on the husk of a twigling.
“Oh Pack, you are okay? I was so worried! One moment I saw you on top of that hill and then you were gone! I thought maybe my missiles hadn’t stopped the twigling attacking you, why didn’t you tell us you got away?” Pack hung his head in mock shame for a moment, and looked up at Aurora with puppy dog eyes. She patted him on the head as if all were forgiven, “Where are Ander and Ashrem?” Her voice trembled as she looked around, and just as she looked ready to bolt into the trees to look for them Pack heard a shout and the sound of a tree falling.
“That’s it, Ash! Now, while its trapped!”
“They’ll be along shortly, lass.” Theo’s basso always had a calming effect on Pack; suddenly, Pack wasn’t worried about his friends. It’ll take more than a big frog to get the Heroes of Icemist! It seemed to have the same effect on Aurora, and a tiny smile grew out from the corners of her mouth.
“Shall we then?” she said, gesturing toward the tree, standing alone and defenseless on the hill.
“Now?” Pack rasped.
“Why not?” Theo answered, “With luck we’ll have it burned away by the time the lads get through with that great hopper.”
By the time Pack had reached his discarded knapsack, filled it, and shrugged it onto his shoulders again, Theo and Aurora had reached the base of the tree. Meepo tottered behind them. The kobold dragged his spear behind him: it still had the remnants of a twigling head fixed on its steel tip.
Pack watched as the old man and the young girl examined the tree, seemed to reach an agreement of some kind, and stepped back a half dozen paces. Then Aurora unleashed her mystical missiles at the tree. The halfling took that as his cue and began hustling up the hill to get a better look.
The draconic volley exploded in a shower of sparks and black bark. “Hit it again!” Pack heard Theo roar, and Aurora let loose another pair of missiles as the halfling approached the older man. Pack could swear that he heard the tree groan from the impact. No, not the tree…the ground.
Suddenly, the earth in front of the aging cleric burst open as a horde of new twiglings erupted from the packed soil. The new saplings were smaller than the others and layered with a thick coating of tree sap, but within a single breath, Pack and Theo found themselves surrounded.
Claws tore at the halfling, opening thin wounds along his arms and legs as he tried and failed to reach Theo and the safety within the priest’s whirling reach. He could feel his gorge rise from the fear as he was dragged to the ground kicking and punching at his wooden attackers. Only the glimpse of Ander and Ashrem racing up the hill to save him kept him from a full panic. Instinctively, Pack curled himself into a ball and put his oversized pack in between himself and the worst of the saplings’ attacks. Then, just as the woodsman and his shadow leapt over the last bramble bush before the clearing, an apple, withered and bruised until it was the color of midnight, dropped from the demon trees highest branch to land between the just arriving pair.
It erupted like a keg of Buried Dwarf Rum caught fire.
Time seemed to slow for the halfling as Ashrem and Ander flew lazily out of his view. Clods of dirt pattered on Pack’s pack as they fell back to earth. From behind him, he heard the slow, high pitched keen of Aurora screaming in pain. He turned his head and saw an endless sea of claws. So Pack did the only thing he knew. He closed his eyes and sang.
The words, at first, were random and meaningless, and Pack groped for them as if deaf. He sang without a destination as sap and blood ran around him, until he realized he was singing a warrior’s song. But not just any warrior’s song, his warrior’s song: the Ballad of the Heroes of Icemist. Each stanza fell from his lips ringing out the deeds that had been done; not by a legendary hero or a god, but Pack and his friends. And with each chorus, Pack felt his resolve rise and his courage return. I do not need saved! I can save myself!
“FULMEN!” he cried, and activated the first power of the fire gauntlet that he had seen the deranged druid use. The glove burst into flame, coating the halfling’s hand and lucky dagger with the elemental fury of Woden Hammerhand. Pack wasted no time passing Woden’s Fury to the stick creatures that bore him to the ground. Soon the bard lay beneath a raging bonfire of burnt twiglings as their sap coated bodies crackled and popped in the licking flames.
Pack burst from the smoldering pile, pausing just long enough to realize that, except for the hand that wore the glove, he hadn’t felt any effects of the flames. Smiling fiercely at his newfound knowledge, Pack leapt onto the nearest sapling, thrusting his flaming fist into the creature’s brambly hide until it too burst into flame. Twigling after twigling fell to the bard’s fiery hand, until he stood on the sloping battlefield surrounded by small campfires and piles of ash. Then, Pack heard the crackling of wood as he saw Ashrem, Ander, and Theo smash away a large layer of bark leaving the tree open for Aurora’s flaming sphere.
Pack hummed to himself as he composed the next stanza of his ballad:
Then it wailed, yes it wailed, like a dread banshee,
And its fruit, blackened fruit, we found so deadly.
But it fell, yes it fell, the Dark Demon Tree,
At our hands, the hands of Icemist’s Heroes we!!
*****
COMING SOON!
THRILL!!
As Small Beginnings moves into its own story line!
SEE!!
WORM ON ICE!
(No, he's not back in yet...)
EXCITE!!
To our heroes rolling badly! All the time! Even attack rolls! And Saving throws... and warms ups... and Saving throws... and skill checks... and saving throws... especially saving throws!
Did I mention Saving throws!
He really loves this stuff, doesn't he?
MARVEL!
As Ander says...."I don't think that would be wise!"... and the group doesn't listen!
So don't miss out - order now!
Limited time offer. Void everywhere. Except Utah. We like Utah.
Did I mention Saving Throws?
