Travels through the Wild West: the Isle of Dread
- Thread starter Lazybones
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Lazybones
Adventurer
MasterOfHeaven: you make good points (and I've read the various "ECL" threads on the rules page), but personally I tend toward reluctance when it comes to house-ruling things like ECLs. It does seem though that genasi are among the weaker of the ECL +1 races... maybe ECL +1/2? They do have a cool flavor to them, however.
Glad you guys liked the cats! Time for the conclusion of the scene...
* * * * *
Book III, Part 14
Lok managed to catch the first slash of the metal claws against his bracer, but the second caught him on the edge of his face, drawing a trio of deep cuts across his cheek. His feline attacker was possessed of incredible speed and considerable strength, and kept up an unflinching assault as powerful strokes from its war claws tore into him.
The doughty warrior was glad that he hadn’t removed his armor; the battle would have been over quickly if he had, he suspected.
He held his ground and planted his left foot down firmly to absorb the weight of the cat-man’s attack, matching his fortitude against his opponent’s agility. He let fly a mighty punch that the cat-man dodged, and in return took a pair of hits that glanced off of his armored shoulders. He struck again, hitting his opponent this time with a glancing blow that just caught the edge of its jaw. The cat-man snarled, and before Lok could draw back his hand, he bit down hard on the genasi’s fist.
Pain flashed up Lok’s arm as the cat-man’s sharp teeth dug deep into his stony flesh. His instinct was to jerk the hand back, but he resisted the impulse and instead stepped forward and drove his fist forward, intending to shove his fist down into the cat-man’s throat. His adversary snarled and dodged back, breaking the connection, and managed a parting shot with one of his natural claws, scratching across Lok’s face with a hind leg as it flipped back and landed smoothly on its feet. It faced him, its teeth wet with Lok’s blood, and offered a feral smile in challenge.
“He’s in trouble,” Benzan said, from where he and his companions watched the desperate struggle a short distance away. He shifted slightly, uneasy, the movement bringing the hilt of his sword within closer reach. One of the cat-men noticed the action, and hissed at him.
“Entreprenez une démarche fausse, chauve, et nous vous couperons dans les bits kitty morsure-classés.”
Benzan snarled back, but Cal cautioned him with a hand on his arm. “Steady,” he said. His voice kept carefully neutral, but loud enough so that all of them could hear, he added, “Trust Lok—but be ready on my signal to open a can of whoop-ass on these pussycats.”
Benzan nodded, and eased back from the cat-man, turning back to the struggle that raged before them.
The two combatants circled each other warily. The cat-man had managed several darting attacks, but none had penetrated the genasi’s considerable defenses. Lok, in turn, could not pin down the cat-man, landing only one more glancing blow that did little damage.
The cat-man seemed to grow weary of the stalemate, for it suddenly crouched and launched another full attack, much like its initial rush that had nearly overcome the genasi warrior.
Lok was ready, and took the brunt of the flurry of blows, deflecting a pair of strokes before a third sliced through his defenses and tore another gash along the line of his jaw. The genasi held his ground, however, and as the cat-man darted back, his thick hand shot out, and locked around his adversary’s ankle.
The cat-man twisted to break away from the fighter’s grip, but Lok was far too strong, and the vise of his fingers was like iron. Lok’s barrel legs started churning, driving him toward the edge of the circle. The cat-man was like a storm of claws and fur on top of him, tearing at him, savaging his upper body with strokes that cut deeply into whatever exposed flesh they could find. Lok ignored each attack, his charge carrying him to the very edge of the ring of watchers—and driving several of them hastily back out of his path—before he saw what he had targeted.
With every ounce of the amazing strength that was compacted in his mighty frame, he slammed the cat-man down hard against the flat surface of one of the many boulders that jutted out of the surface of the hill. A mighty smack filled the clearing at the impact, and the pained yowl erupted from the creature’s battered frame as it slumped to the ground, stunned. Lok, still holding his grip on its leg, twisted and spun around, tossing it bodily back into the middle of the circle, where it rolled to an awkward stop in a jumbled pile of furred limbs. The cat-man tried to get up, once, a dazed expression on its face, then it crumpled back to the ground.
As the remaining creatures watched in stunned silence, Lok walked over to his adversary, and stood over him. His fist came up into a cocked and ready position.
“Yield?”
The cat-man tried to speak, but was having a difficult time getting more than a confused growl out of its mouth. One of the others, however, accompanied by a sabre-tooth tiger at its side, stepped forward and addressed him.
“Vous vous êtes prouvés dignes, et pouvez partir avec l'honneur,” it said.
“It says that we’ve proven ourselves worthy, and may depart with honor,” Dana translated.
“Yeah, why don’t we get out of here before they change their minds,” Benzan said, wary at the hostile looks that were directed at them from every direction.
The companions left, Dana helping Lok, who could barely see with blood from several cuts flowing down into his eyes. As they hurried away—to the west, away from the encampment below—she covertly healed his wounds with her wand.
“Amazing,” Captain Horath said. “I’ve known dwarves to have incredible strength and stamina, but I’ve never seen the likes of what you did against the hydra and that cat-man.”
“I did what needed to be done,” Lok said simply, and with that they continued on their journey, traveling as quickly as they could to leave the territory of the strange and honorable cat-people behind them.
Glad you guys liked the cats! Time for the conclusion of the scene...
* * * * *
Book III, Part 14
Lok managed to catch the first slash of the metal claws against his bracer, but the second caught him on the edge of his face, drawing a trio of deep cuts across his cheek. His feline attacker was possessed of incredible speed and considerable strength, and kept up an unflinching assault as powerful strokes from its war claws tore into him.
The doughty warrior was glad that he hadn’t removed his armor; the battle would have been over quickly if he had, he suspected.
He held his ground and planted his left foot down firmly to absorb the weight of the cat-man’s attack, matching his fortitude against his opponent’s agility. He let fly a mighty punch that the cat-man dodged, and in return took a pair of hits that glanced off of his armored shoulders. He struck again, hitting his opponent this time with a glancing blow that just caught the edge of its jaw. The cat-man snarled, and before Lok could draw back his hand, he bit down hard on the genasi’s fist.
Pain flashed up Lok’s arm as the cat-man’s sharp teeth dug deep into his stony flesh. His instinct was to jerk the hand back, but he resisted the impulse and instead stepped forward and drove his fist forward, intending to shove his fist down into the cat-man’s throat. His adversary snarled and dodged back, breaking the connection, and managed a parting shot with one of his natural claws, scratching across Lok’s face with a hind leg as it flipped back and landed smoothly on its feet. It faced him, its teeth wet with Lok’s blood, and offered a feral smile in challenge.
“He’s in trouble,” Benzan said, from where he and his companions watched the desperate struggle a short distance away. He shifted slightly, uneasy, the movement bringing the hilt of his sword within closer reach. One of the cat-men noticed the action, and hissed at him.
“Entreprenez une démarche fausse, chauve, et nous vous couperons dans les bits kitty morsure-classés.”
Benzan snarled back, but Cal cautioned him with a hand on his arm. “Steady,” he said. His voice kept carefully neutral, but loud enough so that all of them could hear, he added, “Trust Lok—but be ready on my signal to open a can of whoop-ass on these pussycats.”
Benzan nodded, and eased back from the cat-man, turning back to the struggle that raged before them.
The two combatants circled each other warily. The cat-man had managed several darting attacks, but none had penetrated the genasi’s considerable defenses. Lok, in turn, could not pin down the cat-man, landing only one more glancing blow that did little damage.
The cat-man seemed to grow weary of the stalemate, for it suddenly crouched and launched another full attack, much like its initial rush that had nearly overcome the genasi warrior.
Lok was ready, and took the brunt of the flurry of blows, deflecting a pair of strokes before a third sliced through his defenses and tore another gash along the line of his jaw. The genasi held his ground, however, and as the cat-man darted back, his thick hand shot out, and locked around his adversary’s ankle.
The cat-man twisted to break away from the fighter’s grip, but Lok was far too strong, and the vise of his fingers was like iron. Lok’s barrel legs started churning, driving him toward the edge of the circle. The cat-man was like a storm of claws and fur on top of him, tearing at him, savaging his upper body with strokes that cut deeply into whatever exposed flesh they could find. Lok ignored each attack, his charge carrying him to the very edge of the ring of watchers—and driving several of them hastily back out of his path—before he saw what he had targeted.
With every ounce of the amazing strength that was compacted in his mighty frame, he slammed the cat-man down hard against the flat surface of one of the many boulders that jutted out of the surface of the hill. A mighty smack filled the clearing at the impact, and the pained yowl erupted from the creature’s battered frame as it slumped to the ground, stunned. Lok, still holding his grip on its leg, twisted and spun around, tossing it bodily back into the middle of the circle, where it rolled to an awkward stop in a jumbled pile of furred limbs. The cat-man tried to get up, once, a dazed expression on its face, then it crumpled back to the ground.
As the remaining creatures watched in stunned silence, Lok walked over to his adversary, and stood over him. His fist came up into a cocked and ready position.
“Yield?”
The cat-man tried to speak, but was having a difficult time getting more than a confused growl out of its mouth. One of the others, however, accompanied by a sabre-tooth tiger at its side, stepped forward and addressed him.
“Vous vous êtes prouvés dignes, et pouvez partir avec l'honneur,” it said.
“It says that we’ve proven ourselves worthy, and may depart with honor,” Dana translated.
“Yeah, why don’t we get out of here before they change their minds,” Benzan said, wary at the hostile looks that were directed at them from every direction.
The companions left, Dana helping Lok, who could barely see with blood from several cuts flowing down into his eyes. As they hurried away—to the west, away from the encampment below—she covertly healed his wounds with her wand.
“Amazing,” Captain Horath said. “I’ve known dwarves to have incredible strength and stamina, but I’ve never seen the likes of what you did against the hydra and that cat-man.”
“I did what needed to be done,” Lok said simply, and with that they continued on their journey, traveling as quickly as they could to leave the territory of the strange and honorable cat-people behind them.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Book III, Part 15
The next day, they left the hills behind and penetrated into the jungle.
The place didn’t seem too bad at first, although the heat quickly became sweltering, even sheltered as they were from the direct rays of the hot sun above. Benzan noted that it was likely the humidity, a thick dampness in the air that soon had all of them coated in sweat. Soon they were shedding clothing and excess armor, placing their extra items in Lok’s bag of holding for storage. The genasi kept his armor on without complaint, shrugging off the heat with his incredible fortitude, and Benzan kept his mail on as well, apparently less affected by the heat than most of the others.
“Maybe there’s a benefit to my cursed ancestry after all,” he ventured.
The forest swallowed them up into its embrace, as they continued on their northward course. It would have been easy to get lost in the trackless expanse of tall trees and dense undergrowth, but Delem’s natural sense for direction helped guide them steadily toward their intended destination. Dana and Ruath were called upon to create water several times a day, and they were alert to the constant presence of life they could feel all around them, lurking hidden at every turn. They saw several large serpents and a variety of unnaturally large insects over the course of the first day, but all of the creatures took the initiative to avoid them rather than contest their passage.
Their first night in the jungle they spent camped in the dead remnants of a once-massive tree, taking shelter in the hollow of its trunk. They passed an uncomfortable night in the sticky heat that persisted even after dark, surrounded by the constant sounds of the forest around them. Just before dawn a cluster of monstrous centipedes stumbled across the camp and attacked, but Delem managed to drive them away with a burst of flames. Dana treated the minor injuries suffered by Horath and Varrus in the brief confrontation, and after an early breakfast they headed out again into the jungle.
The second day they found the going much slower, as the jungle grew even denser around them. Dana’s knowledge of plants and animals was put to the test as they encountered a variety of strange things that challenged them, from a thick vine whose thorns burned when they pricked the skin, to a bulbous fruit found on another bush whose scent made them feel sleepy and lethargic. Working together they were able to avoid these prospective dangers, and pressed on toward the north, and the mountains they could no longer see but knew where there, waiting for them.
The morning had already given over into afternoon when they reached a clearing and paused for a rest.
“I don’t think I’ve ever sweat so much in my life,” Dana said, as she sat wearily on an old log and poured a stream of water from her waterskin across her face.
“Careful, we should conserve that,” Cal cautioned.
“I’ll just make more tomorrow,” she protested, but she stoppered the container and slung it back across her shoulder.
They continued talking about the jungle and their experiences in it, but Delem, who was sitting near the edge of the gathering, heard a slight chittering noise and looked up. There, sitting atop a branch a stone’s throw away, was a pair of creatures watching them. They looked like a cross between monkeys and raccoons, with curious faces, small but fully articulated hands, and long tails that wrapped around the branches behind them. They were short, perhaps just a tad smaller than Ruath.
Delem made a chittering noise back at the creatures, and took a fruit—one of those Dana had declared safe to eat—and lifted it toward the two creatures. They looked at him curiously, but made no move to approach.
“Hey, looks like Delem’s found some new friends,” Benzan said, noticing the exchange. “Hey, Delem, why don’t you call her as your familiar?” he laughed. “You’d make a cute pair!”
Delem shot a venomous look at the tiefling, and continued to call to the creatures while the others watched. Finally, when it was clear that neither of the creatures was interested in coming closer, Delem tossed the fruit up to them. The nearest caught it smoothly, and tore it in half, handing one portion to her neighbor before digging into her half.
“Maybe they’re intelligent,” Delem said, as he watched the pair watching him.
“I’m just glad we’ve encountered something that hasn’t instantly attacked us,” Benzan commented.
Delem waved at the two creatures, and as they watched the female imitated his action, and waved back.
“They have similar creatures in Calimshan,” Horath said. “Monkeys—some of the people there keep them as pets, or even use them to help in petty thievery, I’ve heard. Better keep your eye on your purse, magus.” he added with a smile.
Delem, however, wasn’t ready to give up on his theory that there was more to the creatures than it seemed. He addressed the female, introducing himself and their purpose in coming to the jungle, keeping his voice easy and friendly.
“Yer wasting yer time, magus,” Varrus said with a growl. “Them things might be good in a stewpot, but they’re no use beyond that.”
“I think they’re cute,” Elly said, coming up beside Delem, digging in her own pouch for a treat.
The two creatures, spooked perhaps by the increased attention from the companions, turned and darted back along the branches deeper into the tree cover, vanishing quickly from sight.
“Oh well,” Benzan said, coming up beside Delem. “I just guess it wasn’t meant to be. Plenty of fish in the sea, though.” He chuckled to himself as he moved back to where he’d left his pack and bow. “Hey!” he cried out, suddenly. “Where’s my bow?”
The others jumped to their feet and started looking around, and more than one carelessly discarded possession was discovered to be missing. Benzan was livid, and started a string of curses that caused even hardened Dana to blush more than once.
“Damnation and hellfire!” he concluded, although it wasn’t clear if he was actually done or just pausing to draw breath. “When I get my hands on those thieving…”
“There’s no use griping about it now,” Cal said. Their brief search had turned up no tracks, no indication of where the creatures might have disappeared to. “We have to keep going… just keep your eyes open, and keep your hands on your gear.”
The jungle itself seemed eager to make their passage difficult, as the route out of the clearing led through a particularly dense knot of growth. They made little progress over the next hour, but finally the route passed over some hard, rocky patches of soil, and the undergrowth cleared enough for them to make their way swifter through the trees.
The light around them was just beginning to dim, indicating that the afternoon was giving over into evening, when Horath called out for them to halt.
“What is it?” Cal asked. In reply, the elf nodded in the direction of one of the trees just ahead of their path. Ten pairs of eyes turned in that direction, where a small form sat watching them in the crook of a branch twenty paces or so up the thick trunk.
“Lend me your bow,” Benzan said to Lok.
“Careful,” Cal cautioned. The advice proved to be sound, for after a few moments they became aware of a rustling sound that seemed to come from the forest canopy all around them. Soon dozens of the small creatures appeared out of the greenery and took up positions on perches everywhere they turned their eyes. None of them were lower than ten feet from the ground, and they watched the companions with their intent, masked eyes.
“Give me back my bow, you little sneaks!” Benzan yelled, his voice startlingly loud in the silence.
“Perhaps a little more diplomacy would be helpful,” Cal suggested. He stepped slightly away from the group, and lifted an open palm to the watchers in the trees. “We mean no harm,” he said.
“Yeah, that worked really well the last time,” Benzan grumbled. “This time, if they want to challenge one of us to single combat, I want to be the one to do it. No offense, Lok,” he added.
The genasi’s expression was inscrutable, but his axe was close at hand in case the little forest creatures became a threat.
Cal tried a different tack, playing a soft melody on his lute. The creatures watched, and some exchanged soft whispers that could have been anything. Finally, a vine dangled down from the forest canopy above, trailing along with its length one of the creatures. The little thing came down the impromptu rope head-first, until he hung eight feet above the ground, directly in front of Cal.
At close range they could see that Delem’s suspicions about the creatures’ intelligence seemed to be well founded. The monkey-creature wore a harness of some sort around its small but muscled torso, and they could see what looked like small knives stuck in notches in the leather.
“Buenos días, los extranjeros. Qué lo trae a nuestro bosque?”
“I’ll be damned,” Horath said. “You were right, Delem.”
“Nobody do anything foolish… especially you, Benzan,” Cal said quietly, without taking his attention from the small creature that hung there, watching them expectantly. “Dana, if you wouldn’t mind using your spell once more…”
The priestess came forward, and shortly she had enacted another spell of translation. Cal managed to indicate to the creature—which seemed to be quite perceptive—that the cleric would translate his meaning, and with a nod it addressed them further.
The creature and its companions called themselves phanatons, an arboreal species native to the island. The spokesman said that his name was Charek, and that he was some sort of war leader for his tribe, which lived nearby. They seemed curious about the adventurers, and explained that they’d been watching them for some time, even before Delem had first spotted them in the clearing. Cal, using gestures, was able to impart some small part of their story to the attentive creature, including their destination within the mountains ahead. Charek reported that the mountains were very dangerous, but that there was a route that led well up into the range. Something unreadable flashed in his eyes when it said that, but instead of elaborating he suggested that they accompany him back to his tribe, where they could speak to the tribal elders.
“What about my bow,” Benzan interjected. “My bow,” he repeated, making a motion with his hands as if he was drawing the weapon.
“Su arma será vuelta a usted, el guerrero,” Charek said, and just like that he spun and seemed to run up the vine to the nearest branch, reaching it in a matter of seconds.
“Sígame,” he said.
“He says you’ll get your weapon back, and to follow him,” Dana indicated.
“Never trust a thief,” Benzan growled, as they fell in behind the rapidly departing creature.
“Oh, come on,” Cal said. “We learned to trust you, didn’t we?” Benzan’s expression darkened for a moment, but Cal’s tone was so easygoing, and his smile so transparent, that finally the tiefling gave in and laughed.
“All right then, I’ll play nice… but I’d better get my bow back!” he said.
The next day, they left the hills behind and penetrated into the jungle.
The place didn’t seem too bad at first, although the heat quickly became sweltering, even sheltered as they were from the direct rays of the hot sun above. Benzan noted that it was likely the humidity, a thick dampness in the air that soon had all of them coated in sweat. Soon they were shedding clothing and excess armor, placing their extra items in Lok’s bag of holding for storage. The genasi kept his armor on without complaint, shrugging off the heat with his incredible fortitude, and Benzan kept his mail on as well, apparently less affected by the heat than most of the others.
“Maybe there’s a benefit to my cursed ancestry after all,” he ventured.
The forest swallowed them up into its embrace, as they continued on their northward course. It would have been easy to get lost in the trackless expanse of tall trees and dense undergrowth, but Delem’s natural sense for direction helped guide them steadily toward their intended destination. Dana and Ruath were called upon to create water several times a day, and they were alert to the constant presence of life they could feel all around them, lurking hidden at every turn. They saw several large serpents and a variety of unnaturally large insects over the course of the first day, but all of the creatures took the initiative to avoid them rather than contest their passage.
Their first night in the jungle they spent camped in the dead remnants of a once-massive tree, taking shelter in the hollow of its trunk. They passed an uncomfortable night in the sticky heat that persisted even after dark, surrounded by the constant sounds of the forest around them. Just before dawn a cluster of monstrous centipedes stumbled across the camp and attacked, but Delem managed to drive them away with a burst of flames. Dana treated the minor injuries suffered by Horath and Varrus in the brief confrontation, and after an early breakfast they headed out again into the jungle.
The second day they found the going much slower, as the jungle grew even denser around them. Dana’s knowledge of plants and animals was put to the test as they encountered a variety of strange things that challenged them, from a thick vine whose thorns burned when they pricked the skin, to a bulbous fruit found on another bush whose scent made them feel sleepy and lethargic. Working together they were able to avoid these prospective dangers, and pressed on toward the north, and the mountains they could no longer see but knew where there, waiting for them.
The morning had already given over into afternoon when they reached a clearing and paused for a rest.
“I don’t think I’ve ever sweat so much in my life,” Dana said, as she sat wearily on an old log and poured a stream of water from her waterskin across her face.
“Careful, we should conserve that,” Cal cautioned.
“I’ll just make more tomorrow,” she protested, but she stoppered the container and slung it back across her shoulder.
They continued talking about the jungle and their experiences in it, but Delem, who was sitting near the edge of the gathering, heard a slight chittering noise and looked up. There, sitting atop a branch a stone’s throw away, was a pair of creatures watching them. They looked like a cross between monkeys and raccoons, with curious faces, small but fully articulated hands, and long tails that wrapped around the branches behind them. They were short, perhaps just a tad smaller than Ruath.
Delem made a chittering noise back at the creatures, and took a fruit—one of those Dana had declared safe to eat—and lifted it toward the two creatures. They looked at him curiously, but made no move to approach.
“Hey, looks like Delem’s found some new friends,” Benzan said, noticing the exchange. “Hey, Delem, why don’t you call her as your familiar?” he laughed. “You’d make a cute pair!”
Delem shot a venomous look at the tiefling, and continued to call to the creatures while the others watched. Finally, when it was clear that neither of the creatures was interested in coming closer, Delem tossed the fruit up to them. The nearest caught it smoothly, and tore it in half, handing one portion to her neighbor before digging into her half.
“Maybe they’re intelligent,” Delem said, as he watched the pair watching him.
“I’m just glad we’ve encountered something that hasn’t instantly attacked us,” Benzan commented.
Delem waved at the two creatures, and as they watched the female imitated his action, and waved back.
“They have similar creatures in Calimshan,” Horath said. “Monkeys—some of the people there keep them as pets, or even use them to help in petty thievery, I’ve heard. Better keep your eye on your purse, magus.” he added with a smile.
Delem, however, wasn’t ready to give up on his theory that there was more to the creatures than it seemed. He addressed the female, introducing himself and their purpose in coming to the jungle, keeping his voice easy and friendly.
“Yer wasting yer time, magus,” Varrus said with a growl. “Them things might be good in a stewpot, but they’re no use beyond that.”
“I think they’re cute,” Elly said, coming up beside Delem, digging in her own pouch for a treat.
The two creatures, spooked perhaps by the increased attention from the companions, turned and darted back along the branches deeper into the tree cover, vanishing quickly from sight.
“Oh well,” Benzan said, coming up beside Delem. “I just guess it wasn’t meant to be. Plenty of fish in the sea, though.” He chuckled to himself as he moved back to where he’d left his pack and bow. “Hey!” he cried out, suddenly. “Where’s my bow?”
The others jumped to their feet and started looking around, and more than one carelessly discarded possession was discovered to be missing. Benzan was livid, and started a string of curses that caused even hardened Dana to blush more than once.
“Damnation and hellfire!” he concluded, although it wasn’t clear if he was actually done or just pausing to draw breath. “When I get my hands on those thieving…”
“There’s no use griping about it now,” Cal said. Their brief search had turned up no tracks, no indication of where the creatures might have disappeared to. “We have to keep going… just keep your eyes open, and keep your hands on your gear.”
The jungle itself seemed eager to make their passage difficult, as the route out of the clearing led through a particularly dense knot of growth. They made little progress over the next hour, but finally the route passed over some hard, rocky patches of soil, and the undergrowth cleared enough for them to make their way swifter through the trees.
The light around them was just beginning to dim, indicating that the afternoon was giving over into evening, when Horath called out for them to halt.
“What is it?” Cal asked. In reply, the elf nodded in the direction of one of the trees just ahead of their path. Ten pairs of eyes turned in that direction, where a small form sat watching them in the crook of a branch twenty paces or so up the thick trunk.
“Lend me your bow,” Benzan said to Lok.
“Careful,” Cal cautioned. The advice proved to be sound, for after a few moments they became aware of a rustling sound that seemed to come from the forest canopy all around them. Soon dozens of the small creatures appeared out of the greenery and took up positions on perches everywhere they turned their eyes. None of them were lower than ten feet from the ground, and they watched the companions with their intent, masked eyes.
“Give me back my bow, you little sneaks!” Benzan yelled, his voice startlingly loud in the silence.
“Perhaps a little more diplomacy would be helpful,” Cal suggested. He stepped slightly away from the group, and lifted an open palm to the watchers in the trees. “We mean no harm,” he said.
“Yeah, that worked really well the last time,” Benzan grumbled. “This time, if they want to challenge one of us to single combat, I want to be the one to do it. No offense, Lok,” he added.
The genasi’s expression was inscrutable, but his axe was close at hand in case the little forest creatures became a threat.
Cal tried a different tack, playing a soft melody on his lute. The creatures watched, and some exchanged soft whispers that could have been anything. Finally, a vine dangled down from the forest canopy above, trailing along with its length one of the creatures. The little thing came down the impromptu rope head-first, until he hung eight feet above the ground, directly in front of Cal.
At close range they could see that Delem’s suspicions about the creatures’ intelligence seemed to be well founded. The monkey-creature wore a harness of some sort around its small but muscled torso, and they could see what looked like small knives stuck in notches in the leather.
“Buenos días, los extranjeros. Qué lo trae a nuestro bosque?”
“I’ll be damned,” Horath said. “You were right, Delem.”
“Nobody do anything foolish… especially you, Benzan,” Cal said quietly, without taking his attention from the small creature that hung there, watching them expectantly. “Dana, if you wouldn’t mind using your spell once more…”
The priestess came forward, and shortly she had enacted another spell of translation. Cal managed to indicate to the creature—which seemed to be quite perceptive—that the cleric would translate his meaning, and with a nod it addressed them further.
The creature and its companions called themselves phanatons, an arboreal species native to the island. The spokesman said that his name was Charek, and that he was some sort of war leader for his tribe, which lived nearby. They seemed curious about the adventurers, and explained that they’d been watching them for some time, even before Delem had first spotted them in the clearing. Cal, using gestures, was able to impart some small part of their story to the attentive creature, including their destination within the mountains ahead. Charek reported that the mountains were very dangerous, but that there was a route that led well up into the range. Something unreadable flashed in his eyes when it said that, but instead of elaborating he suggested that they accompany him back to his tribe, where they could speak to the tribal elders.
“What about my bow,” Benzan interjected. “My bow,” he repeated, making a motion with his hands as if he was drawing the weapon.
“Su arma será vuelta a usted, el guerrero,” Charek said, and just like that he spun and seemed to run up the vine to the nearest branch, reaching it in a matter of seconds.
“Sígame,” he said.
“He says you’ll get your weapon back, and to follow him,” Dana indicated.
“Never trust a thief,” Benzan growled, as they fell in behind the rapidly departing creature.
“Oh, come on,” Cal said. “We learned to trust you, didn’t we?” Benzan’s expression darkened for a moment, but Cal’s tone was so easygoing, and his smile so transparent, that finally the tiefling gave in and laughed.
“All right then, I’ll play nice… but I’d better get my bow back!” he said.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
more praise for Lok
this is why LOK is my favorite character:
AND
My hats off to the Spanish-speaking lemurs!
The french catmen were great although when you said they were rakastas I thought it said rakshasa and wondered how the party would look cooking over a fire.
this is why LOK is my favorite character:
Lazybones said:
AND
My hats off to the Spanish-speaking lemurs!
The french catmen were great although when you said they were rakastas I thought it said rakshasa and wondered how the party would look cooking over a fire.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Broc: I think that the rakasta in the Isle of Dread were in part the inspiration for the AD&D rakshasa (luckily, the creatures in this module didn't have all the funky powers and invulnerabilities of the latter). IoD also introduced the aranea (oops, have I given away too much? 
).
Horacio: hey, it's been ten years since my last Spanish class, so it's probably a little rough
.
Announcement, story board readers: I have revived my old D&D website and put my TttWW story hour on it! It's a work in progress, but please drop by and check it out.
The url is: http://lazybones18.tripod.com/
If it sucks, it's Horacio's fault: he made me do it!
Thanks all,
LB
).Horacio: hey, it's been ten years since my last Spanish class, so it's probably a little rough
.Announcement, story board readers: I have revived my old D&D website and put my TttWW story hour on it! It's a work in progress, but please drop by and check it out.
The url is: http://lazybones18.tripod.com/
If it sucks, it's Horacio's fault: he made me do it!
Thanks all,
LB
Lazybones said:Horacio: hey, it's been ten years since my last Spanish class, so it's probably a little rough
Hey, it was good. It only sounded a bit bizarre, but I think my English sounds even more bizarre to you, so no problem
And all the language effort gives a lot of charm to your story, I love it!
Great site!
I didn't know I had such a power... I have casted a Suggestion spell (or maybe a geas) on Lazybones without even knowing it...
Lazybones
Adventurer
Book III, Part 16
Benzan did indeed get his weapon returned to him, undamaged, and the phanatons proved true to their offer of hospitality.
The phanatons had erected a virtual village in the boughs of the massive jungle trees, the members of the tribe living atop a complex of more than a half-dozen great wooden platforms that had obviously been built through a great collective effort by the industrious creatures. At their approach a long rope ladder was let down from one of the lower platforms for them to ascend, which they did. The platforms, interconnected by a veritable maze of vines and simple bridges of twisted hemp and small wooden boards, provided the phanatons with a safe haven from the larger and more dangerous creatures of the jungle. Not that the small creatures were helpless, as the companions quickly observed. The phanatons moved effortlessly through the trees, and it was clear that their great agility would make them equally proficient with the small throwing blades that many of them wore in the harnesses across their bodies. If the companions turned out to be hostile, they had few illusions about the ability of the phanatons to defend their lair.
But the encounter remained friendly, and soon even Benzan was expressing appreciation of what the creatures had accomplished here. Several phanatons brought them woven baskets containing food and drink, including one that Delem thought he recognized as the female he’d seen earlier. They spent time eating and drinking and talking of their adventures, and when the sun had set fully, cloaking the jungle in darkness, the phanatons brought small globes that shone with a pale inner radiance from within. Delem was particularly interested in the globes, which seemed to contain some sort of magic, and he in turn impressed the eager phanatons with a display of dancing lights summoned through his innate powers.
Finally, after they had eaten and rested, Delem spotted a group of phanatons headed their way from one of the higher platforms. The group included several armed phanatons that regarded them warily, escorting a wizened old creature with wispy gray fur that moved with deliberateness as it crossed to stand before them.
“Greetings, travelers,” it said, its sibilant voice forming words that sounded clearly to each of them. “I am Rakos, the Keeper of Stories among this tribe.”
“You speak our language?” Elly asked. “Or is this just more magic?”
“I suspect that our friend here is a bard,” Cal said, bowing to the elder in respect. The phanaton acknowledged the gesture with a tilt of its head, and continued, “I keep the stories, and tell the tales of my people,” he said. “These are Kothis and Lakhar, the Warmasters of the tribe.” He indicated two of the armed phanatons with him, who managed to look imposing despite being three feet tall and covered in cuddly soft fur.
“It has been given to me that you are far from your homes, and are seeking a way to return,” the old phanaton said. “It would do us honor if you would share your tales with us, and perhaps we in return could be of some aid to you on your journey.”
The companions turned to Cal, and the gnome rose to the challenge, weaving a tapestry with his words to satisfy the phanaton elder. He began with their arrival at the island, and their encounters with the hippogriffs and the native raiders. As he spoke, the others noticed that more phanatons were gathering around the platform, until several dozen were visible at the edges of the light. The elder frequently interjected a few words in his own language to the gathered crowd, until they were following the story as intently as Cal was telling it.
They learned that although the phanatons were curious creatures, they rarely left the shelter of the jungle. The Isle of Dread was full of dangers, as the companions had already learned. They discovered that the cat-people were called “rakasta”, and were known to the phanatons as fierce, implacable warriors that held sway over the entire hill-region north of the tar pits. They also knew a little about the mountains toward which the companions were heading, although none of their tales spoke of the black mountain or the Well of Worlds.
While Cal and the elder continued their discussion, Dana, who was sitting next to Benzan, saw that he was looking around them, at the gathered furry phanatons, the platforms, and the jungle around them. “What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Somehow, I get this weird feeling that I’ve seen this scene somewhere before…”
“Charek suggested that there was an easier route that led up into the mountains,” Cal was saying. He understood that the magic being used by the elder was limited in duration, and he wanted to make sure that they found out what they needed to know before the gathering was concluded.
“Yes,” Rakos replied. “To the north-east there lies a valley, beyond a region of caves that lies at the border of this jungle. This valley is heavily wooded, and its upper reaches give onto a pass that will take you directly into the depths of the mountains.”
“It would seem that this place would be our destination, then,” Cal replied.
“That route is best, but it is not without danger,” the elder continued. “The valley is the home of the spider-magi, who are dire enemies of the phanatons. There are only three of them dwelling there now, but they are powerful creatures, strong in magic. And they have guardians, fierce warrior-creatures that stand taller than even the mighty rakasta that you encountered.”
The companions exchanged a wary look at the elder’s words. “There is no other way?” Lok asked.
“You could attempt to head directly into the mountains from the jungle, but the way is difficult, and involves many steep climbs. We can offer rope and food, if you wish to take that course.”
“Well, sailors are no stranger to climbing,” Horath said, “but we’re not experienced mountaineers. It would be difficult.”
“The valley, then,” Cal said. “We’ll start out tomorrow.”
“Charek will guide you,” the elder offered. “If you can defeat the spider-magi and their allies, you would be performing a great boon for the phanatons, and we would be in your debt.”
“Well, my ma always said, if you’re going to take on a bunch of evil spiders that also happen to be powerful wizards, you’d better get a good night’s sleep first,” Benzan said, grabbing one of the woven blankets that the phanatons had offered them. The others followed his lead, for the hour was already quite late, and all were tired from their hard march through the jungle.
“You will be safe here, tonight,” the elder promised, and with his escort bid them farewell and left the platform.
Within a short span the companions were fast asleep, save for the pair on watch. While they appreciated the shelter given them by the phanatons, none of them were quite willing to let down their guard completely. A few were wary of the sharp drop off the edges of the platforms, which had no railing or other barrier as protection, so they clustered their bedrolls in the center of the flat open space. The retreating phanatons had taken the last of the glow-globes with them, and soon the darkness of the forest was thick around them.
Delem found himself tossing and turning. His dreams no longer tormented him with images of his past, although he sometimes saw images of himself working great feats with his magic, power far beyond what he could currently channel. The images were always ephemeral, fading from his memory quickly when he woke, and leaving him with a vague sense of disquiet that would eventually fade in the light of the day. One statement often lingered with him, however, and would whisper to him whenever a lull in his thoughts allowed the voice to enter.
One will be forever destroyed, his soul consumed in the fire…
Finally he woke fully, and opened his eyes. The night was still full, the darkness complete save for the wisps of starlight that made their way down from the canopy above. He could make out the dark shadows of his sleeping companions around him, and a short distance away could just make out the forms of the pair on watch, vague indefinable outlines at opposite edges of the platform.
He looked over and saw an empty bedroll where Dana had been sleeping. Careful not to make any noise to disturb his companions, he crept up and made his way slowly to the edge of the platform.
The young woman looked up as he approached, and sat down next to her. Before them the vastness of the jungle spread out before them, the forest floor a good fifty feet below them. Delem felt a twinge of vertigo, and remained back from the edge, but Dana seemed content to even let one leg dangle out over the darkness as she kept her watch.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked him, her voice a whisper so as to not disturb the others.
“No,” he said.
“Me neither,” she said. “I know I’ll need to rest soon for tomorrow, but nights like this… it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Just nature, the universe, all of the life around us…”
Delem nodded, although he wasn’t sure that he agreed with the “beauty” of the jungle night. The air was hot and wet, and full of the sounds of strange creatures that probably wouldn’t mind nibbling on his freshly slain carcass.
“It’s funny,” she said. “I grew up in such a structured environment—first with my father, and then with the monks… yet somehow I’ve always felt something calling me, a freedom in my very soul that I guess I couldn’t deny. It’s on nights like this, with the purity of the universe evident around me, that I feel most alive.”
“You’re starting to sound like a mystic,” Delem said.
Her smile caught him off guard, her face framed in the soft light of the stars. By the gods, she’s beautiful, he thought, as his breath caught in his chest.
“And what about you?” she said with a soft laugh. “What truths does Kossuth offer you, young sorcerer?”
“I… I don’t know, really,” he said, and the confusion in his expression must have been evident, for she nodded and touched his arm once in support. “Cal once said that we were all wanderers, trying to find something. I guess that’s true—but I don’t even know what it is that I’m looking for.”
“You know, I suppose that’s true of most people,” she said. She looked up at him, and saw the intense look with which he was regarding her. “What is it?” she asked.
“Dana,” he began. “I… that is, I was wondering…” It was dark, so she couldn’t see his flush, but he felt like he himself was on fire, his heart pounding in his chest. “I mean… do you think that there could be any chance… for you and me, I mean?”
Dana’s jaw dropped suddenly open, but she quickly recovered. “Oh, Delem,” she said, leaning close into him in a way that caused his heart, already pounding, to pulse as if it contained the fire of one of his spells. “You’re a great friend…” The heat suffusing him suddenly turned to ice, and he found himself fighting for a breath that wouldn’t readily come. “I like you, but I just don’t feel that way about you—about any of you.”
“Is it the age difference?” he asked. “Or the difference in our standing?” Each word had to be forced out, but he thought he was doing an admirable job at maintaining his composure. Except that he was now totally transparent to the young woman in front of him.
“You know better than that,” she said, a hint of edge in her voice. “I’m only six or seven years older than you, and our ‘standing’, as you call it, is the same. We’re both members of an adventuring company, equal partners in both dangers and rewards. If anything, you have a higher place in this group than I am, with all of your power.”
At that moment, he wasn’t feeling very powerful.
“Friends?” she said. He managed to stammer out an affirmative response, and even share in the hug that she offered him. “I’d better get some sleep,” he said, and he rose to head back to his bedroll. She watched him leave, and both of them quickly faded back into vague shadows in the night.
Delem felt a sudden, almost overpowering urge to burn something, a desire that he only managed to overcome with great effort. His thoughts were dark as he crawled back into his bedding.
From the other side of the platform, the other person on watch followed the young sorcerer’s movements with his eyes, eyes that gleamed slightly in the pale starlight… but that had no difficulty seeing in the darkness.
The night passed slowly.
Benzan did indeed get his weapon returned to him, undamaged, and the phanatons proved true to their offer of hospitality.
The phanatons had erected a virtual village in the boughs of the massive jungle trees, the members of the tribe living atop a complex of more than a half-dozen great wooden platforms that had obviously been built through a great collective effort by the industrious creatures. At their approach a long rope ladder was let down from one of the lower platforms for them to ascend, which they did. The platforms, interconnected by a veritable maze of vines and simple bridges of twisted hemp and small wooden boards, provided the phanatons with a safe haven from the larger and more dangerous creatures of the jungle. Not that the small creatures were helpless, as the companions quickly observed. The phanatons moved effortlessly through the trees, and it was clear that their great agility would make them equally proficient with the small throwing blades that many of them wore in the harnesses across their bodies. If the companions turned out to be hostile, they had few illusions about the ability of the phanatons to defend their lair.
But the encounter remained friendly, and soon even Benzan was expressing appreciation of what the creatures had accomplished here. Several phanatons brought them woven baskets containing food and drink, including one that Delem thought he recognized as the female he’d seen earlier. They spent time eating and drinking and talking of their adventures, and when the sun had set fully, cloaking the jungle in darkness, the phanatons brought small globes that shone with a pale inner radiance from within. Delem was particularly interested in the globes, which seemed to contain some sort of magic, and he in turn impressed the eager phanatons with a display of dancing lights summoned through his innate powers.
Finally, after they had eaten and rested, Delem spotted a group of phanatons headed their way from one of the higher platforms. The group included several armed phanatons that regarded them warily, escorting a wizened old creature with wispy gray fur that moved with deliberateness as it crossed to stand before them.
“Greetings, travelers,” it said, its sibilant voice forming words that sounded clearly to each of them. “I am Rakos, the Keeper of Stories among this tribe.”
“You speak our language?” Elly asked. “Or is this just more magic?”
“I suspect that our friend here is a bard,” Cal said, bowing to the elder in respect. The phanaton acknowledged the gesture with a tilt of its head, and continued, “I keep the stories, and tell the tales of my people,” he said. “These are Kothis and Lakhar, the Warmasters of the tribe.” He indicated two of the armed phanatons with him, who managed to look imposing despite being three feet tall and covered in cuddly soft fur.
“It has been given to me that you are far from your homes, and are seeking a way to return,” the old phanaton said. “It would do us honor if you would share your tales with us, and perhaps we in return could be of some aid to you on your journey.”
The companions turned to Cal, and the gnome rose to the challenge, weaving a tapestry with his words to satisfy the phanaton elder. He began with their arrival at the island, and their encounters with the hippogriffs and the native raiders. As he spoke, the others noticed that more phanatons were gathering around the platform, until several dozen were visible at the edges of the light. The elder frequently interjected a few words in his own language to the gathered crowd, until they were following the story as intently as Cal was telling it.
They learned that although the phanatons were curious creatures, they rarely left the shelter of the jungle. The Isle of Dread was full of dangers, as the companions had already learned. They discovered that the cat-people were called “rakasta”, and were known to the phanatons as fierce, implacable warriors that held sway over the entire hill-region north of the tar pits. They also knew a little about the mountains toward which the companions were heading, although none of their tales spoke of the black mountain or the Well of Worlds.
While Cal and the elder continued their discussion, Dana, who was sitting next to Benzan, saw that he was looking around them, at the gathered furry phanatons, the platforms, and the jungle around them. “What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Somehow, I get this weird feeling that I’ve seen this scene somewhere before…”
“Charek suggested that there was an easier route that led up into the mountains,” Cal was saying. He understood that the magic being used by the elder was limited in duration, and he wanted to make sure that they found out what they needed to know before the gathering was concluded.
“Yes,” Rakos replied. “To the north-east there lies a valley, beyond a region of caves that lies at the border of this jungle. This valley is heavily wooded, and its upper reaches give onto a pass that will take you directly into the depths of the mountains.”
“It would seem that this place would be our destination, then,” Cal replied.
“That route is best, but it is not without danger,” the elder continued. “The valley is the home of the spider-magi, who are dire enemies of the phanatons. There are only three of them dwelling there now, but they are powerful creatures, strong in magic. And they have guardians, fierce warrior-creatures that stand taller than even the mighty rakasta that you encountered.”
The companions exchanged a wary look at the elder’s words. “There is no other way?” Lok asked.
“You could attempt to head directly into the mountains from the jungle, but the way is difficult, and involves many steep climbs. We can offer rope and food, if you wish to take that course.”
“Well, sailors are no stranger to climbing,” Horath said, “but we’re not experienced mountaineers. It would be difficult.”
“The valley, then,” Cal said. “We’ll start out tomorrow.”
“Charek will guide you,” the elder offered. “If you can defeat the spider-magi and their allies, you would be performing a great boon for the phanatons, and we would be in your debt.”
“Well, my ma always said, if you’re going to take on a bunch of evil spiders that also happen to be powerful wizards, you’d better get a good night’s sleep first,” Benzan said, grabbing one of the woven blankets that the phanatons had offered them. The others followed his lead, for the hour was already quite late, and all were tired from their hard march through the jungle.
“You will be safe here, tonight,” the elder promised, and with his escort bid them farewell and left the platform.
Within a short span the companions were fast asleep, save for the pair on watch. While they appreciated the shelter given them by the phanatons, none of them were quite willing to let down their guard completely. A few were wary of the sharp drop off the edges of the platforms, which had no railing or other barrier as protection, so they clustered their bedrolls in the center of the flat open space. The retreating phanatons had taken the last of the glow-globes with them, and soon the darkness of the forest was thick around them.
Delem found himself tossing and turning. His dreams no longer tormented him with images of his past, although he sometimes saw images of himself working great feats with his magic, power far beyond what he could currently channel. The images were always ephemeral, fading from his memory quickly when he woke, and leaving him with a vague sense of disquiet that would eventually fade in the light of the day. One statement often lingered with him, however, and would whisper to him whenever a lull in his thoughts allowed the voice to enter.
One will be forever destroyed, his soul consumed in the fire…
Finally he woke fully, and opened his eyes. The night was still full, the darkness complete save for the wisps of starlight that made their way down from the canopy above. He could make out the dark shadows of his sleeping companions around him, and a short distance away could just make out the forms of the pair on watch, vague indefinable outlines at opposite edges of the platform.
He looked over and saw an empty bedroll where Dana had been sleeping. Careful not to make any noise to disturb his companions, he crept up and made his way slowly to the edge of the platform.
The young woman looked up as he approached, and sat down next to her. Before them the vastness of the jungle spread out before them, the forest floor a good fifty feet below them. Delem felt a twinge of vertigo, and remained back from the edge, but Dana seemed content to even let one leg dangle out over the darkness as she kept her watch.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked him, her voice a whisper so as to not disturb the others.
“No,” he said.
“Me neither,” she said. “I know I’ll need to rest soon for tomorrow, but nights like this… it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Just nature, the universe, all of the life around us…”
Delem nodded, although he wasn’t sure that he agreed with the “beauty” of the jungle night. The air was hot and wet, and full of the sounds of strange creatures that probably wouldn’t mind nibbling on his freshly slain carcass.
“It’s funny,” she said. “I grew up in such a structured environment—first with my father, and then with the monks… yet somehow I’ve always felt something calling me, a freedom in my very soul that I guess I couldn’t deny. It’s on nights like this, with the purity of the universe evident around me, that I feel most alive.”
“You’re starting to sound like a mystic,” Delem said.
Her smile caught him off guard, her face framed in the soft light of the stars. By the gods, she’s beautiful, he thought, as his breath caught in his chest.
“And what about you?” she said with a soft laugh. “What truths does Kossuth offer you, young sorcerer?”
“I… I don’t know, really,” he said, and the confusion in his expression must have been evident, for she nodded and touched his arm once in support. “Cal once said that we were all wanderers, trying to find something. I guess that’s true—but I don’t even know what it is that I’m looking for.”
“You know, I suppose that’s true of most people,” she said. She looked up at him, and saw the intense look with which he was regarding her. “What is it?” she asked.
“Dana,” he began. “I… that is, I was wondering…” It was dark, so she couldn’t see his flush, but he felt like he himself was on fire, his heart pounding in his chest. “I mean… do you think that there could be any chance… for you and me, I mean?”
Dana’s jaw dropped suddenly open, but she quickly recovered. “Oh, Delem,” she said, leaning close into him in a way that caused his heart, already pounding, to pulse as if it contained the fire of one of his spells. “You’re a great friend…” The heat suffusing him suddenly turned to ice, and he found himself fighting for a breath that wouldn’t readily come. “I like you, but I just don’t feel that way about you—about any of you.”
“Is it the age difference?” he asked. “Or the difference in our standing?” Each word had to be forced out, but he thought he was doing an admirable job at maintaining his composure. Except that he was now totally transparent to the young woman in front of him.
“You know better than that,” she said, a hint of edge in her voice. “I’m only six or seven years older than you, and our ‘standing’, as you call it, is the same. We’re both members of an adventuring company, equal partners in both dangers and rewards. If anything, you have a higher place in this group than I am, with all of your power.”
At that moment, he wasn’t feeling very powerful.
“Friends?” she said. He managed to stammer out an affirmative response, and even share in the hug that she offered him. “I’d better get some sleep,” he said, and he rose to head back to his bedroll. She watched him leave, and both of them quickly faded back into vague shadows in the night.
Delem felt a sudden, almost overpowering urge to burn something, a desire that he only managed to overcome with great effort. His thoughts were dark as he crawled back into his bedding.
From the other side of the platform, the other person on watch followed the young sorcerer’s movements with his eyes, eyes that gleamed slightly in the pale starlight… but that had no difficulty seeing in the darkness.
The night passed slowly.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Lazybones said:
uuuuuu.....
The triangle gains structure....
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