Struggle and Strife- A scarred lands storyhour
- Thread starter Lars Frehse
- Start date
Off to Sky Keep and finding more about the Amphora! 
Lars Frehse
First Post
The witch is back part 1
By the time they had returned to the Hornswythe, the wind from the south had turned into an outright storm, just like the Taurosphinx had promised. As they reached the riverside of Barel, they saw that the skiprock was still there. Captain Yengly and his crewmen were all on board, fastening the cargo to the boat and covering it all with waterproof sheets, trying to add additional protection against the elements for both the cargo and the men.
After a short negotiation, they convinced the captain to go up north to Mansk, and after some additional coins had changed hands, Yengly agreed to go during most of the night, as well. The adventurers settled down under a sheet with their back to the cargo crates and chests as they began their journey to the north.
The horserat was in the back of the boat- Ben had covered her with a sheet, too, and after he saw that the crewmen weren't feeling comfortable around it in spite of his reassurances of the animal's tameness, he stayed with here.
With the storm blowing strongly and steadily from the south, and the river's flow reversed, they moved ahead much swifter than they had on their way south, so that their lack of comfort was more than compensated by a gain of speed. However their spirits were soon dampened by the wetness creeping into everything- their clothes were permanently damp, making them shiver as they huddled under their protective sheets.
As one rainy, stormy day was followed by the next, and their mood changed for the worse, the Hornswythe river began to change as well. When they had travelled down the slow-moving, peaceful river, it had been a calm stream of grayish-blue water with a surface that gently reflected the golden sunlight. Now, however, the Hornswythe looked like a completely different river. The peacefulness had gone, and it was now in constant turmoil, and the color had changed to a dirty dark brown. Furthermore, there was something even more troubling slowly taking place- with each day, the river got redder. At first, the taint was hardly noticeable, but slowly but surely the red stain was getting stronger and stronger as the tainted water of the Blood Sea replaced the water of the Hornswyther itself.
Apart from that, one day looked like the other. Sitting in the confined spaces of the boat all day, each of them wished to be apart for awhile, while their only duty during the day was to keep out of the way of the crewmen. So being on watch at night was a pleasant change, since it at least gave them something of importance to do.
It was on one of those nights, on the third one after leaving Barel, to be more precise, that this nerve-wrecking monotony was interrupted. They had beached the boat on the muddy bank and Niklas was on watch, idly trying to keep their small fire going that they had lit with wood which they had kept dry on the boat, as he heard a sound behind him.
Turning around, he saw three Asaathi with their scimitars drawn in hand. Reacting with lightning speed, he rolled out of the way, just in time to avoid getting hit in lethal spots. Still, he was cut three times, but even though he was badly wounded, he managed to get up while he was shouting for his friends to wake up.
Immediately, they were on all their toes, ready to fight back, as Niklas was bit by one of the Asaathi. Before he could strike back, he was utterly paralyzed, standing stiff as a statue.
In spite of this, it was soon clear, that the Snakemen were no match for the heroes. Once their plan to murder the sleeping passengers of the boat was disrupted, they didn't stand much of a chance. In the end, they were defeated, and when Niklas had recovered and they were all healed, the dug out a ditch where they buried the Asaathi.
After about another week of uninterrupted storm and rain, the winds lessened, and eventually the cover of clouds tore apart and first sunrays broke through to the drenched ground. As they reached Mansk with the last bit of water that was running up the Hornswythe, the dozen days of rain and cold were just a memory of the past, and the sun was burning with the full force of sommer amidst a clear, blue sky.
In Mansk, they bid farewell to the men of the Skiprock and explored the city.
The Gravelfist Orcs had told them about this city. Set on the eastern side of the Blood Basin, Mansk had been founded by some of the human barbarian tribes from the Plains of Lede. Accordingly, it was a rather chaotic place full of wooden and even canvas structures inhabited by wild and free people. Half of the city consisted of tent camps where the semi-nomadic people, who came here to trade, lived, while most of the city dwellers weren't much more than barbarians themselves, having settled down only one or two generations ago at the most.
Still, the adventurers were used to rather rough manners from their relations with the Gravelfists, so that they were able to adapt to the local customs rather well. After a day in the city they were ready to travel on, and they went down to the harbor.
There was only one ship at the docks: the "Dojann Ahklain", a dual mastered sailing ship that belonged to a half-elven woman called Tamalaine. They booked a passage to the mouth of the northern branch of the Hornswythe, from where they would go on by foot. (Or in Ben's case, by rat.).
By noon they set sails, and the next three days offered a nice change of pace. The sky was cloudy, and the water slightly brown and a bit turbulent, but the air was clear and at last it was dry and warm. The adventurers were free to relax and take care of mundane tasks like mending their traveller's clothes or oiling their weapons and everybody cheered up. Of course they were aware that they were still in the middle of a race against the minion's of the Hag Queen, but after their speedy journey up river, they were confident that they would win.
Then, on the morning of the fourth day, the sky grew increasingly dark and oppresive, and the winds picked up again. All through the morning, captain Tamalaine was barking orders and her crew was tying down hatches, loosening sails and preparing for the worst.
As the adventurers stood on deck, Ben took them aside:" I don't want to tell the crew, they are busy enough, but I do not believe this storm is natural. As a matter of fact, it reminds me of the thunderstorm the Storm Hag had summoned when we fought at the Slitheren camp in the Blood Steppes last year...".
Noone said anything. They had all feared something to that effect ever since the weather had taken a turn for the worse in the morning.
Niklas was the first to react. He climbed up the mainmast, gripping it tight as it swung like an upside-down pendulum. Once in the crownest, clutching the rail, he stared towards the center of the storm. And there, sure enough, he caught a glimpse of a huge wild-haired female figure, flitting back and forth in the heart of the storm. And now that he saw her, he could even swear that he heard her cackling laughter amid the thunder and the lightning.
At last, the Storm Hag had caught up with them.
By the time they had returned to the Hornswythe, the wind from the south had turned into an outright storm, just like the Taurosphinx had promised. As they reached the riverside of Barel, they saw that the skiprock was still there. Captain Yengly and his crewmen were all on board, fastening the cargo to the boat and covering it all with waterproof sheets, trying to add additional protection against the elements for both the cargo and the men.
After a short negotiation, they convinced the captain to go up north to Mansk, and after some additional coins had changed hands, Yengly agreed to go during most of the night, as well. The adventurers settled down under a sheet with their back to the cargo crates and chests as they began their journey to the north.
The horserat was in the back of the boat- Ben had covered her with a sheet, too, and after he saw that the crewmen weren't feeling comfortable around it in spite of his reassurances of the animal's tameness, he stayed with here.
With the storm blowing strongly and steadily from the south, and the river's flow reversed, they moved ahead much swifter than they had on their way south, so that their lack of comfort was more than compensated by a gain of speed. However their spirits were soon dampened by the wetness creeping into everything- their clothes were permanently damp, making them shiver as they huddled under their protective sheets.
As one rainy, stormy day was followed by the next, and their mood changed for the worse, the Hornswythe river began to change as well. When they had travelled down the slow-moving, peaceful river, it had been a calm stream of grayish-blue water with a surface that gently reflected the golden sunlight. Now, however, the Hornswythe looked like a completely different river. The peacefulness had gone, and it was now in constant turmoil, and the color had changed to a dirty dark brown. Furthermore, there was something even more troubling slowly taking place- with each day, the river got redder. At first, the taint was hardly noticeable, but slowly but surely the red stain was getting stronger and stronger as the tainted water of the Blood Sea replaced the water of the Hornswyther itself.
Apart from that, one day looked like the other. Sitting in the confined spaces of the boat all day, each of them wished to be apart for awhile, while their only duty during the day was to keep out of the way of the crewmen. So being on watch at night was a pleasant change, since it at least gave them something of importance to do.
It was on one of those nights, on the third one after leaving Barel, to be more precise, that this nerve-wrecking monotony was interrupted. They had beached the boat on the muddy bank and Niklas was on watch, idly trying to keep their small fire going that they had lit with wood which they had kept dry on the boat, as he heard a sound behind him.
Turning around, he saw three Asaathi with their scimitars drawn in hand. Reacting with lightning speed, he rolled out of the way, just in time to avoid getting hit in lethal spots. Still, he was cut three times, but even though he was badly wounded, he managed to get up while he was shouting for his friends to wake up.
Immediately, they were on all their toes, ready to fight back, as Niklas was bit by one of the Asaathi. Before he could strike back, he was utterly paralyzed, standing stiff as a statue.
In spite of this, it was soon clear, that the Snakemen were no match for the heroes. Once their plan to murder the sleeping passengers of the boat was disrupted, they didn't stand much of a chance. In the end, they were defeated, and when Niklas had recovered and they were all healed, the dug out a ditch where they buried the Asaathi.
After about another week of uninterrupted storm and rain, the winds lessened, and eventually the cover of clouds tore apart and first sunrays broke through to the drenched ground. As they reached Mansk with the last bit of water that was running up the Hornswythe, the dozen days of rain and cold were just a memory of the past, and the sun was burning with the full force of sommer amidst a clear, blue sky.
In Mansk, they bid farewell to the men of the Skiprock and explored the city.
The Gravelfist Orcs had told them about this city. Set on the eastern side of the Blood Basin, Mansk had been founded by some of the human barbarian tribes from the Plains of Lede. Accordingly, it was a rather chaotic place full of wooden and even canvas structures inhabited by wild and free people. Half of the city consisted of tent camps where the semi-nomadic people, who came here to trade, lived, while most of the city dwellers weren't much more than barbarians themselves, having settled down only one or two generations ago at the most.
Still, the adventurers were used to rather rough manners from their relations with the Gravelfists, so that they were able to adapt to the local customs rather well. After a day in the city they were ready to travel on, and they went down to the harbor.
There was only one ship at the docks: the "Dojann Ahklain", a dual mastered sailing ship that belonged to a half-elven woman called Tamalaine. They booked a passage to the mouth of the northern branch of the Hornswythe, from where they would go on by foot. (Or in Ben's case, by rat.).
By noon they set sails, and the next three days offered a nice change of pace. The sky was cloudy, and the water slightly brown and a bit turbulent, but the air was clear and at last it was dry and warm. The adventurers were free to relax and take care of mundane tasks like mending their traveller's clothes or oiling their weapons and everybody cheered up. Of course they were aware that they were still in the middle of a race against the minion's of the Hag Queen, but after their speedy journey up river, they were confident that they would win.
Then, on the morning of the fourth day, the sky grew increasingly dark and oppresive, and the winds picked up again. All through the morning, captain Tamalaine was barking orders and her crew was tying down hatches, loosening sails and preparing for the worst.
As the adventurers stood on deck, Ben took them aside:" I don't want to tell the crew, they are busy enough, but I do not believe this storm is natural. As a matter of fact, it reminds me of the thunderstorm the Storm Hag had summoned when we fought at the Slitheren camp in the Blood Steppes last year...".
Noone said anything. They had all feared something to that effect ever since the weather had taken a turn for the worse in the morning.
Niklas was the first to react. He climbed up the mainmast, gripping it tight as it swung like an upside-down pendulum. Once in the crownest, clutching the rail, he stared towards the center of the storm. And there, sure enough, he caught a glimpse of a huge wild-haired female figure, flitting back and forth in the heart of the storm. And now that he saw her, he could even swear that he heard her cackling laughter amid the thunder and the lightning.
At last, the Storm Hag had caught up with them.
Lars Frehse
First Post
The witch is back- part 2
The winds got stronger, hitting the ship like a gigantic invisible fist, and all on board got whipped by the driving rain. Niklas shouted:" It's the stormhag!", and even though his voice was barely audible over the noise of the raging elements, all his friends looked to where the monk's outstretched hand was pointing, and now they saw her, too.
As the witch rode on the currents of the storm, it grew even fiercer then before. The crewmen were frantically moving on deck in a panicked effort to save the ship, and it was clear to all of the friends, that the situation was worse than during the storm that they had endured on the bloodsea the autumn before. Back then, none of the elvish crewmen had seemed bothered or worried by the tempest, so that even though none of them had any experience regarding ships, they had felt safe and sound none the less. This time it was different.
This was worse than any assault or danger they had encountered yet. There was no way for them to battle the tempest like they would battle any titanspawn, and they felt powerless to change their fate. Even the hag stayed hundreds of yards away from them, out of reach of any arrow they could shoot or any spell that they could cast.
Torn was the first to shake the opressing feeling of hopelessness and remembering that most of their equipment was still under the badly groaning deck, he dashed down underdeck. There the creaking of the planks was even louder and he saw water pooling on the far side of the corridor. Just as he was about to turn into their cabin, he heard the banging of fists against the far door. Someone was trapped behind it!
He stormed down the rocking corridor and using his shoulder as a battering ram, he burst through the wooden door, opening a path for five grateful sailors who had been trapped behind.
On deck, Trepat started to tie himself to the mast, but as the creaking of the abused ship grew louder, he cut the rope again and turned to one of the longboats, intending to lower it with Niklas's help. As they slidded over the heaving deck, Ben screamed:" Swift Jane!". His rat was still below the now worrying tilting deck, and he ran down as well.
On the stairs, however, the ship rocked violently, and he was lifted of his feet and shot down the stairs and the corridor. Right at that moment, as he slidded down the momentarily almost vertical corridor and as he saw the water downthere rushing towards him, a huge hand shot out of the doorway to the right and grabbed him by the collar. It was Torn, who had put all their belongings into their bag of holding and who was grabbing the doorway with his right hand as he held up the halfling with his left.
"My rat", Ben said, and Torn understood immediately. Together, they went to the cabin that had been turned into an improvised stable, and the moment they opened the door, Swift Jane came running out, all her instincts screaming at her to leave the ship. Ben, who got hold of her as she turned around the corner, was taken along on her frantic sprint upstairs with Torn running after them.
Once on deck, the rat headed right for the railing, where she jumped into the foaming water without even a moment of hesitation while Ben was still clinging on to her back. He was underwater, and for a moment, he did not know whether he was on up- or downside of his horserat, to which he was clinging with desperate determination. Then, his head was up above the water again, but the high waves, the thick rain and his wet hair were obscuring his sight so that he lost view of the ship as his rat struggled to stay afloat.
His friends were still on board. While Torn and Ben had been below deck, Trepat and Niklas had succeeded in lowering one of the longboats into the water. They called out for the ship's hands to come to the longboat, but those who hadn't gone over board yet were all desperate to save the ship, which was both home and source of income for all them.
Then, as Torn fought against the rocking ship, the wind and the rain, ever inching towards his friends and the relative safety of the longboat, there was a deafening crack, louder than the thunder and the constant drumbeat of the rain on wood, and the mainmast toppled towards the back of the ship like a felled tree.
As the mast fell, all activity on board stopped for a moment- and all eyes were fixed on the mast, all mouths were ajar, and everyone was oblivious of everything else around them. One of those who stood and watched in trance, was Captain Tamalaine. She stood motionless as the mast fell right towards her, and as it hit her and crushed her frail elvish frame in an instant, she never as much as flinched.
Now, with their captain dead, the remaining hands scrambled for the longboat that had already been lowered while other crewmembers lowered the other boat. As Torn, Niklas and some of the stronger crewmen rowed away from the quickly sinking ship, they saw how the other boat hit the surface, and then the curtain of rain and the waves which were as high as multi-story houses obstructed their view.
They had no time to regret this, though. Keeping the boat afloat was hard enough as it was. There were all in all ten men in the boat now, and as four rowed, the other six used buckets to get the rain- and lakewater out of the boat, when they weren't clinging on to the boat for their sheer lives.
Everything was water. The rain fell with such ferocity, that it ricocheted back from the watersurface and the boat, so that they were drenched from all directions, as wave after wave spilled into their boat. Soon, they had lost their sense of time along with their sense of direction. All that was left was an endless effort to stay alive: with each pull of an oar or another full bucket lifted over the railing, their arms felt heavier, but they kept on nonetheless, and they all worked in silence, with the exception of an occasional grunt or monosyllabic comment.
The hag was nowhere to be seen or heard. Apparently she had relied on the storm to do her work for her, and eventually, long after they had ceased noticing their aching limbs and backs, the storm weakened. At first, the waves got lower, then the curtain of rain thinned, and as the storm died down, so did the rain.
Their boat rocked on the lake, which was now calm again, and occasional pieces of driftwood were the only reminders of the recent storm. Gratefully, they reclined, too tired for now to take care of their soaked clothes, bleeding hands or general injuries.
For a while, all on board were resting, and noone said a word until the sun broke through the clouds and a young blonde sailor with the hint of a mustache smiled, pointed at the first rays with his right hand and said:"Look!".
Once the sun had cut a hole through the clouds, the rest of the cover tore apart as well, and eventually they were bathed in sunlight. It was hard to imagine that only hours ago a terrible storm had almost drowned them all. But now, there was nothing left to do but row the boat to the mouth of the northern part of the Hornswythe, and navigating by the setting sun, they reached the small village there by the evening.
There were many villagers who had friends or relatives aboard the Dojann Ahklain, and there was great relief among those who saw their loved ones on the boat, as they rowed into town. The adventurers and the sailors tried to calm down those who were still worried- after all, they had seen the other boat slamming into the water, and there was a good chance the other longboat would come later.
At night, the other boat arrived, marking a time of relief and utter desperation. All in all, seven of the hands of the ship were lost, among those seven the captain. Still, the friends were all invited to stay in the homes of the survivors. The villagers considered the friends to be heroes, since nobody knew how many more would have been lost, had Torn not opened the door below deck and hadn't the others lowered one of the boats.
However, all three of them felt the sting of guilt. After all, it was their presence that had attracted the storm hag, that much was certain. No matter how many they had saved, those who had died would still be alive, hadn't Ben, Niklas, Trepat and Torn on board.
And of course, they were all worried about Ben as well. They were all certain that his horserat was a good swimmer, but the ship had sunk several miles offshore. But then, shortly before dawn, he came riding into the village. He had clung to the rat until she reached the western shore. Since they had both been soaked, he had gathered some dry wood which he lit with his flameblade-spell. There, both Swift Jane and he had remained until they had been reasonably dry, which had taken them most of the night.
Only then did he mount his rat again and rode to the village, where he had hoped to find his friends. Reunited, they slept long, recovering from the perils of the day, and after buying sufficient provisions and equipment, they headed off to Mount Croiganne- if anything, the storm had only strengthened their resolve to get to sky keep before the Witch Queen's pawns did.
The winds got stronger, hitting the ship like a gigantic invisible fist, and all on board got whipped by the driving rain. Niklas shouted:" It's the stormhag!", and even though his voice was barely audible over the noise of the raging elements, all his friends looked to where the monk's outstretched hand was pointing, and now they saw her, too.
As the witch rode on the currents of the storm, it grew even fiercer then before. The crewmen were frantically moving on deck in a panicked effort to save the ship, and it was clear to all of the friends, that the situation was worse than during the storm that they had endured on the bloodsea the autumn before. Back then, none of the elvish crewmen had seemed bothered or worried by the tempest, so that even though none of them had any experience regarding ships, they had felt safe and sound none the less. This time it was different.
This was worse than any assault or danger they had encountered yet. There was no way for them to battle the tempest like they would battle any titanspawn, and they felt powerless to change their fate. Even the hag stayed hundreds of yards away from them, out of reach of any arrow they could shoot or any spell that they could cast.
Torn was the first to shake the opressing feeling of hopelessness and remembering that most of their equipment was still under the badly groaning deck, he dashed down underdeck. There the creaking of the planks was even louder and he saw water pooling on the far side of the corridor. Just as he was about to turn into their cabin, he heard the banging of fists against the far door. Someone was trapped behind it!
He stormed down the rocking corridor and using his shoulder as a battering ram, he burst through the wooden door, opening a path for five grateful sailors who had been trapped behind.
On deck, Trepat started to tie himself to the mast, but as the creaking of the abused ship grew louder, he cut the rope again and turned to one of the longboats, intending to lower it with Niklas's help. As they slidded over the heaving deck, Ben screamed:" Swift Jane!". His rat was still below the now worrying tilting deck, and he ran down as well.
On the stairs, however, the ship rocked violently, and he was lifted of his feet and shot down the stairs and the corridor. Right at that moment, as he slidded down the momentarily almost vertical corridor and as he saw the water downthere rushing towards him, a huge hand shot out of the doorway to the right and grabbed him by the collar. It was Torn, who had put all their belongings into their bag of holding and who was grabbing the doorway with his right hand as he held up the halfling with his left.
"My rat", Ben said, and Torn understood immediately. Together, they went to the cabin that had been turned into an improvised stable, and the moment they opened the door, Swift Jane came running out, all her instincts screaming at her to leave the ship. Ben, who got hold of her as she turned around the corner, was taken along on her frantic sprint upstairs with Torn running after them.
Once on deck, the rat headed right for the railing, where she jumped into the foaming water without even a moment of hesitation while Ben was still clinging on to her back. He was underwater, and for a moment, he did not know whether he was on up- or downside of his horserat, to which he was clinging with desperate determination. Then, his head was up above the water again, but the high waves, the thick rain and his wet hair were obscuring his sight so that he lost view of the ship as his rat struggled to stay afloat.
His friends were still on board. While Torn and Ben had been below deck, Trepat and Niklas had succeeded in lowering one of the longboats into the water. They called out for the ship's hands to come to the longboat, but those who hadn't gone over board yet were all desperate to save the ship, which was both home and source of income for all them.
Then, as Torn fought against the rocking ship, the wind and the rain, ever inching towards his friends and the relative safety of the longboat, there was a deafening crack, louder than the thunder and the constant drumbeat of the rain on wood, and the mainmast toppled towards the back of the ship like a felled tree.
As the mast fell, all activity on board stopped for a moment- and all eyes were fixed on the mast, all mouths were ajar, and everyone was oblivious of everything else around them. One of those who stood and watched in trance, was Captain Tamalaine. She stood motionless as the mast fell right towards her, and as it hit her and crushed her frail elvish frame in an instant, she never as much as flinched.
Now, with their captain dead, the remaining hands scrambled for the longboat that had already been lowered while other crewmembers lowered the other boat. As Torn, Niklas and some of the stronger crewmen rowed away from the quickly sinking ship, they saw how the other boat hit the surface, and then the curtain of rain and the waves which were as high as multi-story houses obstructed their view.
They had no time to regret this, though. Keeping the boat afloat was hard enough as it was. There were all in all ten men in the boat now, and as four rowed, the other six used buckets to get the rain- and lakewater out of the boat, when they weren't clinging on to the boat for their sheer lives.
Everything was water. The rain fell with such ferocity, that it ricocheted back from the watersurface and the boat, so that they were drenched from all directions, as wave after wave spilled into their boat. Soon, they had lost their sense of time along with their sense of direction. All that was left was an endless effort to stay alive: with each pull of an oar or another full bucket lifted over the railing, their arms felt heavier, but they kept on nonetheless, and they all worked in silence, with the exception of an occasional grunt or monosyllabic comment.
The hag was nowhere to be seen or heard. Apparently she had relied on the storm to do her work for her, and eventually, long after they had ceased noticing their aching limbs and backs, the storm weakened. At first, the waves got lower, then the curtain of rain thinned, and as the storm died down, so did the rain.
Their boat rocked on the lake, which was now calm again, and occasional pieces of driftwood were the only reminders of the recent storm. Gratefully, they reclined, too tired for now to take care of their soaked clothes, bleeding hands or general injuries.
For a while, all on board were resting, and noone said a word until the sun broke through the clouds and a young blonde sailor with the hint of a mustache smiled, pointed at the first rays with his right hand and said:"Look!".
Once the sun had cut a hole through the clouds, the rest of the cover tore apart as well, and eventually they were bathed in sunlight. It was hard to imagine that only hours ago a terrible storm had almost drowned them all. But now, there was nothing left to do but row the boat to the mouth of the northern part of the Hornswythe, and navigating by the setting sun, they reached the small village there by the evening.
There were many villagers who had friends or relatives aboard the Dojann Ahklain, and there was great relief among those who saw their loved ones on the boat, as they rowed into town. The adventurers and the sailors tried to calm down those who were still worried- after all, they had seen the other boat slamming into the water, and there was a good chance the other longboat would come later.
At night, the other boat arrived, marking a time of relief and utter desperation. All in all, seven of the hands of the ship were lost, among those seven the captain. Still, the friends were all invited to stay in the homes of the survivors. The villagers considered the friends to be heroes, since nobody knew how many more would have been lost, had Torn not opened the door below deck and hadn't the others lowered one of the boats.
However, all three of them felt the sting of guilt. After all, it was their presence that had attracted the storm hag, that much was certain. No matter how many they had saved, those who had died would still be alive, hadn't Ben, Niklas, Trepat and Torn on board.
And of course, they were all worried about Ben as well. They were all certain that his horserat was a good swimmer, but the ship had sunk several miles offshore. But then, shortly before dawn, he came riding into the village. He had clung to the rat until she reached the western shore. Since they had both been soaked, he had gathered some dry wood which he lit with his flameblade-spell. There, both Swift Jane and he had remained until they had been reasonably dry, which had taken them most of the night.
Only then did he mount his rat again and rode to the village, where he had hoped to find his friends. Reunited, they slept long, recovering from the perils of the day, and after buying sufficient provisions and equipment, they headed off to Mount Croiganne- if anything, the storm had only strengthened their resolve to get to sky keep before the Witch Queen's pawns did.
Lars Frehse
First Post
The witch is back- part 3 of 4
The mountain loomed before them. It's peak was covered in clouds, and at the uppermost edge that they could see, there was snow. There were stories among the villagers that the keep lay just over where the snow started, but everything they could tell them was vague, since none of them had been so far up there in their lifetime. Every piece of information hailed back to someone's grandfather or greatgrandmother, so each story was different from the next one.
There was one thing all villagers agreed upon, though: There was Titanspawn in the mountains. This meant that no one in the village could tell them anything about any part of the way that was further away then an hour's march.
So, they took out on their own. Soon they left all signs of the divine races behind and entered an untouched light pineforest. The fresh smell of pineneedles and moss and the soft ground made them feel grateful after all those days on the riverboat and the ill-fated Dojann Ahklain, and they only encountered Denev's creatures of the wild and there was no sign of Titanspawn to be seen.
Around noon, the wood got replaced by some steep rises and occasional green meadows. Up here, Denev had healed many of the scars of the divine war already, and the land was still unspoiled by civilization, so that they were witnesses of a beautiful scenery in which they could drink from clear, untainted mountainsprings. They marchen on well uinto the evening, without having to scale up any sheer drops. Then, they spent the night in a cave which seemed to be uninhabited, and then they continued to hike further up.
On the second day, getting up the mountain got harder. The farther they got up, the less vegetation there was and even though the air was fresh and cool, the exhaustion of scaling the sheer rock walls and hiking up steep slopes had them drenched in sweat. In the evening, they were high enough to be marching through snow, but fortunately, Ben's and Trepat's experience in the wild enabled them to find a wide crevice where they were protected from the elements as they settled in for the night.
When they got up the next morning, they fixed a cold breakfast, since they didn't dare to attract Mormo's servants, who had to be close by somewhere or any other titanspawn, and then scaled the last part of the mountain's steep rock-face. They estimated that once they had climbed up this rock-strewn part, they should arrive at the plateau on which Skykeep had crashed.
Everything went smoothly, until there were only a few hundred yards left to climb. Torn, Trepat and Niklas were roped to each other, and Ben was tied to the back of his rat, as Ben felt how the hairs on Swift Jane's back stood up and she cocked her head slightly as she raised her snout and her ears. Then, Ben felt and heard it too, as his horserat darted behind a big rock to his right: there was a rumble in the distance and a tremor in the earth.
With a surpressed shout, he told his friends: "It's an avalanche!", and already, first stones came rolling down. Frantically, each of them sought what little cover they could find behind jutting-out rock formations and boulders which were wedged into crevaices, as more and more stones and rocks came tumbling down, ranging in size from mere pebbles to mansized rocks. As they held on with grim determination, their hands dug like claws into any opening they could find while the avalanche thundered by, louder even than the storm on the bloodbasin had been, and they all got hit by those stones from which their shielding rocks didn't protect them, and each of them received several bleeding slashes and bruises.
Then, just as it seemed that they had made it through the worst of it, Trepat got hit by a sharp rock on the head, and momentarily dazed, he lost his grip and started to tumble down, just one more mansized object in the middle of the tumbling chaos all around them. After a few feet, however, he felt the rope around him tear into his body. He was still connected to Torn and Niklas, and the Halforc and the Human had held fast even when Trepat fell down and his weight suddenly jerked at them, trying to pull them down along with his friend.
As quickly as the avalanche had started, it ended again, and after they had pulled Trepat up to them, they saw that he was badly cut and bruised, but none of his injuries seemed to be too serious for Ben to heal with his wand of healing. The halfling took care of his horserat, his friends and himself, and after he had commented on how they were running out of charges of their wands, they scaled up the rest of the steep slope.
Torn was the first who pulled himself onto the plateau, and thus he was the first to see that they had indeed reached their goal. He stood on an enormous ledge, a plateau that occupied much of the width of the mountain, except for a hill-like spur that continued upwards from this open space.
But Torn was oblivious of the spur- his eyes were feasting on the ruins of Sky Keep. Random heaps of stone, cracked masonry, shattered sculptures and other parts of the keep were lying all over the landscape, like playthings of an untidy gigantic child, and the central structure even seemed to have survived the fall of the fortress from the heavens. It was leaning on the central spur, tilted, but from what he saw, still partially intact. From what he could see, he could imagine just how vast the fortress must have been and how great the magic, that kept it afloat.
He was disturbed in his reverie when Trepat called for him. He and the others had by now reached the plateau as well. The elf sat on his heels over what looked like charred bodies of thin, leathery eight-foot tall humanoids. Among them, he now saw what Trepat was pointing at: There was a handful of badly mangled Slitheren.
Looking up to him, Trepat said:" The bodies are not stiff yet. Looks like they won the race up here by a margin.".
"Still", Ben added:" That doesn't mean that they got to the vault already. Let's go!".
The mountain loomed before them. It's peak was covered in clouds, and at the uppermost edge that they could see, there was snow. There were stories among the villagers that the keep lay just over where the snow started, but everything they could tell them was vague, since none of them had been so far up there in their lifetime. Every piece of information hailed back to someone's grandfather or greatgrandmother, so each story was different from the next one.
There was one thing all villagers agreed upon, though: There was Titanspawn in the mountains. This meant that no one in the village could tell them anything about any part of the way that was further away then an hour's march.
So, they took out on their own. Soon they left all signs of the divine races behind and entered an untouched light pineforest. The fresh smell of pineneedles and moss and the soft ground made them feel grateful after all those days on the riverboat and the ill-fated Dojann Ahklain, and they only encountered Denev's creatures of the wild and there was no sign of Titanspawn to be seen.
Around noon, the wood got replaced by some steep rises and occasional green meadows. Up here, Denev had healed many of the scars of the divine war already, and the land was still unspoiled by civilization, so that they were witnesses of a beautiful scenery in which they could drink from clear, untainted mountainsprings. They marchen on well uinto the evening, without having to scale up any sheer drops. Then, they spent the night in a cave which seemed to be uninhabited, and then they continued to hike further up.
On the second day, getting up the mountain got harder. The farther they got up, the less vegetation there was and even though the air was fresh and cool, the exhaustion of scaling the sheer rock walls and hiking up steep slopes had them drenched in sweat. In the evening, they were high enough to be marching through snow, but fortunately, Ben's and Trepat's experience in the wild enabled them to find a wide crevice where they were protected from the elements as they settled in for the night.
When they got up the next morning, they fixed a cold breakfast, since they didn't dare to attract Mormo's servants, who had to be close by somewhere or any other titanspawn, and then scaled the last part of the mountain's steep rock-face. They estimated that once they had climbed up this rock-strewn part, they should arrive at the plateau on which Skykeep had crashed.
Everything went smoothly, until there were only a few hundred yards left to climb. Torn, Trepat and Niklas were roped to each other, and Ben was tied to the back of his rat, as Ben felt how the hairs on Swift Jane's back stood up and she cocked her head slightly as she raised her snout and her ears. Then, Ben felt and heard it too, as his horserat darted behind a big rock to his right: there was a rumble in the distance and a tremor in the earth.
With a surpressed shout, he told his friends: "It's an avalanche!", and already, first stones came rolling down. Frantically, each of them sought what little cover they could find behind jutting-out rock formations and boulders which were wedged into crevaices, as more and more stones and rocks came tumbling down, ranging in size from mere pebbles to mansized rocks. As they held on with grim determination, their hands dug like claws into any opening they could find while the avalanche thundered by, louder even than the storm on the bloodbasin had been, and they all got hit by those stones from which their shielding rocks didn't protect them, and each of them received several bleeding slashes and bruises.
Then, just as it seemed that they had made it through the worst of it, Trepat got hit by a sharp rock on the head, and momentarily dazed, he lost his grip and started to tumble down, just one more mansized object in the middle of the tumbling chaos all around them. After a few feet, however, he felt the rope around him tear into his body. He was still connected to Torn and Niklas, and the Halforc and the Human had held fast even when Trepat fell down and his weight suddenly jerked at them, trying to pull them down along with his friend.
As quickly as the avalanche had started, it ended again, and after they had pulled Trepat up to them, they saw that he was badly cut and bruised, but none of his injuries seemed to be too serious for Ben to heal with his wand of healing. The halfling took care of his horserat, his friends and himself, and after he had commented on how they were running out of charges of their wands, they scaled up the rest of the steep slope.
Torn was the first who pulled himself onto the plateau, and thus he was the first to see that they had indeed reached their goal. He stood on an enormous ledge, a plateau that occupied much of the width of the mountain, except for a hill-like spur that continued upwards from this open space.
But Torn was oblivious of the spur- his eyes were feasting on the ruins of Sky Keep. Random heaps of stone, cracked masonry, shattered sculptures and other parts of the keep were lying all over the landscape, like playthings of an untidy gigantic child, and the central structure even seemed to have survived the fall of the fortress from the heavens. It was leaning on the central spur, tilted, but from what he saw, still partially intact. From what he could see, he could imagine just how vast the fortress must have been and how great the magic, that kept it afloat.
He was disturbed in his reverie when Trepat called for him. He and the others had by now reached the plateau as well. The elf sat on his heels over what looked like charred bodies of thin, leathery eight-foot tall humanoids. Among them, he now saw what Trepat was pointing at: There was a handful of badly mangled Slitheren.
Looking up to him, Trepat said:" The bodies are not stiff yet. Looks like they won the race up here by a margin.".
"Still", Ben added:" That doesn't mean that they got to the vault already. Let's go!".
Lars Frehse
First Post
Well, as they scaled the mountain, I really skipped the random encounters there. After all, there was more than enough combat awaiting them once they were up in the ruins.
All in all, I don't really like random encounters. I think, so far in my storyhour, there hadn't been even one random encounter yet. Even the monsters they had encountered on the way had been planned- like the blade beast in the Kelders or the giant spider in the Blood Steppes.
I think that too many battles can get tedious, and they can make the important battles look like just another hack down the road, so I use them sparingly. (Usually once or twice in a session). We did play out the part when they had to scale difficult parts of the mountain, though, I thought this would be much more interesting.
Furthermore, I liked the contrast- after the storm and their struggle to stay alive, they had a rather calm stretch until they got to the avalanche.
Don't worry though- there will be plenty of hack'n'slash in the next chapter, which will take place within the keep. Actually, there will already be combat in the next update, which I will post once I am at home.
All in all, I don't really like random encounters. I think, so far in my storyhour, there hadn't been even one random encounter yet. Even the monsters they had encountered on the way had been planned- like the blade beast in the Kelders or the giant spider in the Blood Steppes.
I think that too many battles can get tedious, and they can make the important battles look like just another hack down the road, so I use them sparingly. (Usually once or twice in a session). We did play out the part when they had to scale difficult parts of the mountain, though, I thought this would be much more interesting.
Furthermore, I liked the contrast- after the storm and their struggle to stay alive, they had a rather calm stretch until they got to the avalanche.
Don't worry though- there will be plenty of hack'n'slash in the next chapter, which will take place within the keep. Actually, there will already be combat in the next update, which I will post once I am at home.
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