It was market day in Lamid, the regional center of the Eyefjell Valley and a key food provider for the southern metropolis Indar. Along the waterfront, ferries powered by brawny wollipeds crisscrossed the Rime River, bringing carts and wagons to the eastern landings. All through town, triaxians, gnomes, and elves bustled towards their destination, while an odd dragonkin or two could be spotted flying overhead. And in the Town Square, dozens of stalls hawked egg-gourds, jugana fruit, and five different kinds of shellfish. Staying in a bar until near sunset to beat the heat, Aught and Podrick also heard that a theater troupe had arrived in town to perform a play, and Mayor Geoff Bresnik himself plans to attend.
After departing Lamid, Aught and Podrick began their hike to the smaller town of Kiltar. The track to Kiltar is still heavily rutted from the rains of three weeks ago, so the six-mile path took the flopping poet-whale and his plodding bearlike companion a couple more hours than anticipated. When they arrived at the inn, Podrick flung a purse of silver at the innkeeper and collapsed into the dragonkin stall to sleep.
Aught had hoped to reach the Overlook of Angels some time before midnight the next day, where he would monitor the health of the ley lines and check for graffiti. With Podrick moving only under his own power, though, the Keeper was beginning to think they might not reach the Overlook until the day after. He stayed outside the rest of the night, brooding on this.
In the morning, the cetakin and Keeper went inside for breakfast and to watch people eat breakfast (respectively). They noticed a serpentine sky-priest and a burn-scarred triaxian eating at a central table, along with a trio of triaxian women digging into shyrtak roots and eagle eggs by the window and the weary-eyed innkeeper from the night before conversing with a brown-scaled laialar.
As Aught and Podrick sat/laid down, they couldn't help but overhear the sky-priest and triaxian discussing the same Overlook they'd journeyed to see . . .
--
After leaving the town about midday to beat the crowds, Sachak Iskalar and Horn made swift progress along the Upper Rime. Around midafternoon, they stopped at a riverside shrine to Desna, which appeared to not have been kept up since Sachak's last visit. The sky-priest left a few rations in the cache and dusted the bird droppings from his goddess' statue, then ushered Horn back on the track. As the sun set, they came to the Kiltar inn, ate supper, and paid for private rooms upstairs.
In the morning, the companions ordered breakfast and re-packed for the journey to Forestdal. They'd ford back onto the western side of the river a couple miles north of there, then push on through Hallowfeld and get to Glacier that night. Horn was slightly nervous about the Eyefjell Glacier - he was not used to such cold, and worried about the strange winter-beasts that sometimes rise up out of the snow. Sachak assured him that they could best any threats in the mountains, but perhaps another climber or two would convince those threats to leave them alone entirely . . .
Sitting in the special corner accorded to Podrick for services rendered and his size respectively, he deftly slides sweetrolls and salmon into his mouth with his flippers. Sitting back on thin air, hovering with surprising gentleness, he blinks his eyes and turns a little to best look at Aught.
"I do apologize, sir" he says in a voice with a deeply musical lilt. "I can't think how I misjudged the length of my flight magic, particularly on a day which caused me to exhaust all the potency needed to cast it again..." A quiet ringing fills the air as he shakes his head, sending the long silver chain atop his robes jingling and jangling. "I must have slowed us down dreadfully, and I'm sure it did nothing for my mood as a companion! Dear oh dear. Please, you must permit me to buy you breakfast." He purses his lips in what friends recognize as a smile and makes a practiced gesture as his friend the innkeeper to pop over with a few more sweetrolls if asked for.
"But as you can see" the 'little' whale rolls himself down to horizontal then vertical sitting position in an instant, whilst never touching the ground "My little bag of tricks is fully refreshed, and I do promise we will make the Overlook before the day's end, on my word as a mage of Indar!"
Mildly distracted by his breakfast and his embarrassment, Podrick eventually notices that Aught is paying another group rather more attention than the cetakin in front of you. Tilting his head to the side a little, the whale queries "What is it?"
Horn sits beside the sky-priest, eating a bowl of huffaberries and roasted jubtree pods. As he chews the pod, he reflects a bit about his journey. I miss the plains of Ghoa each day -- the song of the grasses, the majestic thundering nellasaurs -- but these new tastes! Oh, to finally taste real huffaberries, after trading tales of them with traveling Season Keepers for so long now, and to think we're finally within a day's journey of the Overlook...
His enthusiastic reflections are cut short when he looks up and sees two of the other triaxians at the shared table pointing at him and whispering. Suddenly he's aware again of the swollen, dark-red birthmark that covers much of the right side of his face. He flinches reflexively. I want to be done with this town and back on the trail, away from staring faces. Time to get to the--
--his thought are interrupted as he hears others mention the Overlook as well: a Cetakin and a...what exactly?...discussing the same thing. Looking over he sees that they are looking this way as well. Eager for an excuse to get away from the barely-masked stares of the women across from him, he nods to his sky-priest guide and stands up, taking his huffaberries and jubtree pods with him.
"Hello, fellow travelers." The man speaking is unremarkable in many ways: he is slight of build, of average height, and has the dark burnished skin and bald head of a summer-born triaxian. His well-worn clothes mark his as an accomplished traveler, though his frail build might make one wonder how he'd carried a pack up to this elevation at all. The dried flowers woven around his neck mark him as a Season Keeper, though the cut of his tunic marks him as a foreigner to these parts. The biggest thing that stands out about him though is a large swollen stain that covers much of the right side of his face. When he speaks, whatever's wrong with his face causes his words to slur slightly. "I heard you mention the Overlook. Are you headed that way as well?"
With a glance at Suchak, he adds, "I'm Horn, Season Keeper from the plains of Ghoa. This is my guide and traveling companion, Suchak Iskalar."
One of the women notices Horn's flinch and cuffs her companion on the shoulder, returning them to their conversation about some political issue in Indar.
The innkeeper takes a few coins from the laialar, then goes back into the kitchen.
Suchak follows after his companion, veritably flowing across the room after him. He nods his head along with Horn's introduction, the motion looking somewhat strange on the extended neck of the sky-priest.
"We were just discussing that a few more companions might be prudent. I know the mountains well. If you desire a guide, I'd be willing to take you along with Horn and I."
His tongue flits out as if to punctuate the statement and tastes the air, a process that is repeated every few seconds, though is so quick it tends to be ignored unless you're looking for it.
He cocks his head to the side, reaching an angle impossible for most humanoids, and addresses Aught.
"Though I am curious. I don't think I've ever seen someone of your race around."
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Aught stands from his kneeling position,being sure to hold eye contact with the serpant-kin. After all, proper eye contact is culturally appropriate, and the last thing he wanted was to be rude.
I am Aught, Winter Guard of Rahn-Varsonne. He awkwardly forces his hand out towards Suchak for a handshake. Customary amongst these cultures. I am a Keeper. He then thrusts his hand out to Horn. This Cetakin is my companion, Podrick. Together, we seek to reach the Overlook of Angels. I must inspect the leylines and temples of the area. What business do the two of you have there?
Suchak extends his hand to shake Aught's own, but doesn't quite react fast enough to meet it. He stands for a moment, awkwardly, before putting his hand down slowly.
"I am merely his guide." Suchak replies, grateful for something new to react to.
"Horn, as I recall, has the same goal as you. He was lost, and I was happy to guide him. It will please Desna, if nothing else."
"Ay. A guide will be very useful. I have never traveled to the Overlook this time of year. Though I'm sure it isn't much different, I am accustomed to the winter season. In fact, this is my first time experiencing summer." He turns to face the cetakin and asks him "Podrick, what say you?"
As you talk, you notice the laialar receiving a plate of very red meat from the innkeeper, then taking it to a table by the triaxian trio. The sun is growing bright on the lawn outdoors, though none has yet slanted in through the south-facing windows.
The whale lifts his flippers up and down in a passable imitation of a shrug. "For a sojourn amidst the mountaintops, I had imagined us doing it rather down to seabed, or to earth. No guides, no divinations, just the bare essentials, a flight spell, so on. If you wish one, then why not."
Podrick smiles, turns and bows slightly to the snake-man. "Greetings, sir...?"
"Suchak. Suchak Iskal. I am pleased to meet you. Podrick, was it?"
"You are certainly welcome to go on without a guide. I was merely offering to expedite your journey. The mountains can be quite confusing to people unfamiliar with them. Though since you speak of divination, that may not be such a problem for you."
"No epic is without problems or companions to share them with; and if they are not given, one must find then." Nod.
Suchak Iskal. A pleasure. Please, break bread with us."
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"Sadly I cannot digest bread. But I would gladly take a piece of sausage." the corners of his top lips lift up slightly, revealing his fangs. It seems to be his version of a smile.
Horn shakes the Winter Guard's furry paw. "As for me...I am traveling Triaxus, taking in its wonders and watching out for the sacred balance. After trading tales of the world's wonders with other wandering Season Keepers, I relish the thought of seeing the Overlook for myself.
"I would be more than happy to journey with you two." He takes a seat on the bench beside Aught and eats the proffered bread along with another handful of Huffaberries.
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Once the two are seated, Aught returns to his kneeling position. He places his cold stone-like hands on his cold stone-like lap and watches as the three enjoy their food. Taking a look across the common room, he notices the range of emotions in the interactions. Joy, dread, shock and amazement, life forms laughing while they fill their mouths with food. In all his time, he has never consumed a single bite of the stuff. Perhaps a stray insect or two who mistook him for a statue, but that was an accident and he'd probably never fess up to it. Eating was just not a thing that Keepers did, whether Winter or Summer Guard. These cultural norms did not carry well with the Keepers, yet it seemed to be such an important one to everyone else. Maybe he can try?
His alabaster eyes return to the table. He watches as the three eat their sausages, sweet rolls and huffaberries.
Where do I begin? I've never heard of "sausages" or "sweet rolls", but I have used hufaberries to help me find my way...
He juts his heavy arm out, crashing into the bowl of huffaberries. He grabs a handful and closes his fist a little too tight, sending huffaberry juice squirting out towards his new companions. He lifts his arm up sharply to his open mouth and sends the handful of squished berries flying, some making his mouth, some finding their way elsewhere.
Aught chomps down on the berries with his best imitation and gives Suchak, Horn and Podrick a great big, accomplished smile, marble-white muzzle stained with berry juice.
"Eating...is so much fun!"
The innkeeper is momentarily shocked from her torpor by the loud noise, and heads back into the kitchen to look for something.
The hilly farmland between the villages is civilized, with wide, beaten tracks for wagons and wolliped teams, but also rather noisy. The fields on your right side are rife with summerborn children and their parents harvesting kuyl grain, planting soft wormfruit, and picking out stones. On your left side is the Upper Rime River, which is generally buffered by dense tangles of trees and vines.
The Overlook-bound companions reach Forestdal an hour or two before noon, having made good time with Podrick's levitation. The small community is dominated by an imposing lumber mill that squats over the river, and in the hills to the east and west you can see the shadowy reaches of the Eyebite Forest. Forestdal also has a small dock where flat-bottomed skiffs and rowboats can tie up, though very few vessels make it so far upstream. A chattering group of laialar runs down the track in the opposite direction as you head north from the village.
A couple miles north of Forestdal, you cross what Suchak says is the Dale Bridge and follow the track up the west side of the Upper Rime. The air is cooler up here, and the peaks enclosing the Eyefjell Valley are now lightly dusted with snow. The eight-mile walk from the Bridge to Hallowfeld is punctuated only by a couple dozen farms, which seem to focus mostly on raising shabals and the hay to feed them. The sun goes down behind the western mountains as you walk, though there is still light reflecting off the eastern peaks.
As you close on the village of Hallowfeld, you see no one moving outdoors, and note that several buildings on the outskirts are charred almost to the ground. Coming towards what Suchak remembers to be the Town Square, you see that several other buildings are partially burnt, and terrific bloodstains mar the streets and remaining facades. Strangely, there are no bodies.
Suchak wipes huffaberry jucice from his face with a napkin.
"Hassississississ." he chortles.
"That's not quite right. Perhaps you should try it again?" he says.
"Just let me get up and stand over here first."
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"What could have happened here?" Suchak wonders.
"Be on your guard." he warns, then begins flicking his tongue in and out and flaring his nostrils.
His form blurs, eyes flaring with a blue flame, and he flows around the area, inspecting everything for any clue as to what has happened.
Up until now, Aught has been adventuring in a simple white toga with gold trim, his headband and belt, a metal walking pole and a massive pack on his back. At the sight of the town, he sets down the pack, and opens it to reveal his breastplate, gauntlets, warhammer, a circular shield and a strange blade of some sort. He takes his time donning his armor, being careful not to miss any steps. The shield is mounted on his back, the hammer on his side, and the strangely shaped blade is fastened and secured to the metal shaft. After a quiet whisper and nod, Aught lifts his bardiche as it takes an arcane sheen.
"By my given duty, I must protect these lands. Horn, Podrick, will you assist?"
The whale's until-now pleasant joyfulness is interrupted by a harsh splash of businesslike practicality. "Aye, this is... unusual. Possibly dangerously so."
Waving a flipper, he scans the town for auras as he digs the other into the small pouch of arcane components to the left of his stomach, ready for danger. An impossible to see aura grows more distinct and clear around him, making the cetakin look dangerous in a way far from due to his great size.
"Hmmph," the Triaxian frowns. "One moment."
He closes his eyes briefly and is suddenly transformed into a being of pure cloud and wind. Speaking now in a rasping tone, he says, "Let us investigate with care."
Suchak smells the blood of triaxians, but does not immediately notice any other scents. As he inspects the ground for clues, however, he realizes that many of the tracks churning up the street are far from triaxian in nature - some are ovoid and smooth, while others are simply three deep holes, and still others have the telltale lashing of a tail behind them.
Following Suchak's lead, Horn comes to the same conclusion. He also spots an odd symbol on the south wall of the General Store - a three-pronged device slapped on with some kind of globby yellow paint.
Podrick casts a quick spell to scan the street ahead for auras, but notices no presence of magic.
As you cautiously advance eastward, you suddenly hear a sloshing sound. A hissing emanates from the General Store, and you hear a thud somewhere in the buildings to the south.
Suchak
Horn
Aught
2 monsters
Podrick
All other monsters
Suchak holds a hand up to his lips, and slips into a crouch. Suddenly, he disappears, and reappears next to the General Store's window, weapon in hand. He peers into said window, trying to remain stealthy.
Suchak has difficulty seeing in the twilight, but he's able to make out a dark, bulbous form inside the house. Something vaguely humanoid moves in front of the window - you catch a glimpse of a jaw split in two, with tentacles growing where its mouth would be, and a long, rubbery arm. There are two other forms inside the house.
That's odd. What could have transformed him that way? Suchak thinks to himself, but stays silent.
Horn -- now a swirling mass of cloud and wind -- flashes across the town square toward the building Suchak approached, floating above the ground while peering in and listening at the window.
HP 69/69
Place Magic 9/9
Totem Transformations 9/9
Walk the Lines 6/6
Wild Shape (dinosaur) 2/2
Wild Shape (other) 1/2
Pounce 2/2
Druid Spells Remaining (CL 9th; concentration +15):
. . 5th—blessing of the salamander (DC 21), control winds [D] (DC 21), stoneskin
. . 4th—air walk, aspect of the stag [D], cure serious wounds, flame strike (DC 20)
. . 3rd—cure moderate wounds, haste [D], remove disease, sleet storm, wind wall
. . 2nd—barkskin, chameleon stride [D], flurry of snowballs (DC 18), lesser restoration, resist energy (2), summon swarm
. . 1st—call animal, expeditious excavation, faerie fire, magic fang, mount [D], obscuring mist, windy escape
. . 0 (at will)—create water, detect magic, purify food and drink (DC 16), read magic
Buffs Air elemental form (7 hrs) +2 dex, +2 nat armor, dkvision, 60’ flight, whirlwind ability
Horn's swirling form passes swiftly through the air, arriving near another window. He sees four horrific corruptions of natural forms - three triaxians in tattered peasant garb, along with an elf carrying an axe and a sickle in its long, rubbery arms.
Aught marches out with his head held high. He widens his stance, readies his bardiche, hunches over and gives Horn and Suchak a nod of compliance.
Is it foul play they see?
Aught moves forward, great stone feet leaving huge bear prints in the churned ground.
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. These poor people..."
Swimming forwards, Podrick sighs and carves a depressed cartwheel through the air. "Monsters or... something."
Podrick readies a spell, holding a piece of butter before him in one flipper. As if in answer to his preparations, the door to the General Store slams open, and a wavering piping sound suddenly erupts from all three buildings. The second door, near Suchak and Horn, springs open just after, and a tentacle-laden monstrosity surges out of the gap towards Suchak and Podrick (though the former is fairly certain it has not noticed him).
The creature's head is shrunken, almost caved-in, and sprouts a waving forest of pale feelers. Its skin is translucent and yellowish, and it seems to lack a rigid skeletal structure - instead moving by springing across the ground on soft, pseudopodic legs. In the instant it moves out of the door, Podrick can clearly see a bloodstained pitchfork in one tentacle, and finishes his spell with two swift words of power. A blanket of grease covers the ground, interrupting the monster's movement.
The creature slips and falls on the uneven footing, ruining its bloodstained, torn tunic even further. But you hear more movement from the General Store, and see two more creatures running down the street. One last door slams open.
Horn-of-the-wind floats 5' up and back, attempting to put himself just over the roof (or otherwise out of reach). He asks in a windy, rasping voice, "Does anyone know what these things are?" and then starts to chant in the old druidic speech.
________________
Suchak adjusts his grip on his weapon and adopts a weaving stance. He quickly steps back from the monster beside him and unleashes a flurry of attacks.
He throws his blade with blinding speed, the Starknife reappearing at his belt instantaneously, and reappearing back into his hand almost as swiftly as the magic returning it to him. The use of his stance quickly becomes apparent, it allows his body to constantly be in motion, finding a rhythm that makes him move as swiftly in combat as those under speed enhancing magic.
"Does anyone know what these things are?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but they used to be human. I recognized one as the leader of the town militia. He was a good man. Didn't deserve to die." Suchak calls out, somewhat tersely as he finds his rhythm and sticks with it.
Suchak attacks four times in rapid succession, his starknife slicing what remains of the front creature's crumpled head off on the first throw. Its feelers flail uselessly as a noisome ichor oozes from the stump.
His second attack goes wild, but his third and fourth throws drop one of the transformed triaxians who'd just exited the General store; you hear a squelch as it spills formless onto the ground.
As Suchak enters his deadly stance, Horn's elemental form floats upwards. He begins summoning power through the ley lines, focusing it from the Plains of Ghoa to his body and readying it for release.
He lets out a grating, stone-on-stone roar as his marble white sculpted body takes an arcane glow. Lines of energy begin to take shape like intricate fissures. The lines jut out at different angles, circling around, and connecting again until his body is completely scared with crackling orange energy in the form of geometric shapes, likely alien in origin. He charges to one of the monstrosities with his bardiche raised high. Aught's image seems to shake with each heavy foot step, distorting his appearance even more.
"We must destroy these creatures!"
Aught runs up and cuts the head off the last monster to exit the store, cleaving through cartilage and muscle with a soft snick. Its brown blood produces the same putrescent odor as that of the others.
The former militia leader, his lower jaw split open and sprouting tentacles from its flapping halves, runs out of the door on suckered pseudopods and swings its handaxe up at the levitating whirlwind with unnatural precision.
The handaxe disrupts Horn's vapor, knocking him slightly off balance.
Aught turns around, ready for another attack, and sees a whistling, transformed triaxian running straight for him. He slashes at it with his bardiche, tearing most of its arm off.
The creature crumples to the ground before it can get close enough.
His enormous lungs taking a deep breath, Podrick concentrates as a quick series of rising, oscillating notes fill the air, momentarily surrounding him and his allies with a subtle cerulean sheen of sea spray and stormclouds. "How swift was the water, how thunderous the clouds..."
Podrick nods to himself. "Onwards with what we must, friends."
Aught swims forward and imbues his companions with the speed of a mighty current.
Another creature comes out of the General Store, lunging at Aught with its pitchfork. It seems to focus right before the blow connects, and does not seem to notice his blurred form.
Following it is the one who likely opened the door. It stabs for Aught's calf.
From the southern building comes a third, which also aims for Aught.
One of the ones Suchak and Horn saw in the northeastern building also runs out, stabbing for Suchak.
Two more transformed triaxians rush from the southern building, stabbing the tines of their forks into Aught's back to mild effect.
One more creature in the General Store runs out to fight Aught. Then, the last creature in any building runs out towards Podrick, brandishing its fork.
Suchak hisses in pain as the pitchfork digs into his scaled hide, and steps backward.
He attacks, hands moving at blinding speed as he's bolstered both by his stance and Podrick's magic. He aims to first take out the creature that attacked him, then focus on the creature that used to be Wallace.
His assault done he stops his weaving stance and adopts a more guarded one, elbows closing to his sides, and hands clenched into fists at either side of his face.
"Are you okay, Aught? I'll help you as soon as I can!" Suchak calls out, having caught glimpses of the stream of monsters swarming the Winter Guard.
Suchak's first throw tears through a sac on the creature's bulbous back, and it stumbles. His next tears through its gut, and it splits almost in two, falling to the ground. The third throw glances off the Wallace monster's chain shirt, but the fourth cuts off half the creature's flapping jaw, and the last throw cuts off his vestigial third leg. The mutated warrior screams, but is bleeding vigorously.
The swirling, clouded form of Horn glares with eyes like lightning as he is hit by the twisted husk of the militiaman, but he continues his chant unabated.
When he's done, two great, hairy aurochs appear in a flash of yellow light. They run in a circle around the stony Aught, attempting to trample the abominations that surround him.
His chant done, he withdraws to 25' above the battlefield.
______________________
Horn's Ghoan Plainsrunners thunder around Aught, trampling the corrupted triaxians into the mud. Their foul-smelling fluids spray onto the Keeper, who himself barely avoids the gigantic four-horned herd animals.
Before it falls, one of the creatures manages to pierce the knee-skin of one of Horn's summoned animals.
Aught braces himself as the two Plainsrunners make their way through the monsters. Aught doesn't wait for the dust to settle to sprint towards the last visible monstrosity.
"Horn, I am in your debt!"he yells as he springs into action.
He heaves his shining bardiche into the sky and brings it down with all of his might.
Aught runs back to his companions and brings his powerful bardiche down on the corrupted triaxian's head. And then through its torso. As its bisected halves collapse on either side of Aught's powerful blade, Wallace charges towards the Keeper, bringing his handaxe down towards the white bear's shoulder.
Somehow, even without his flash of insight, the militiaman's axe makes a chip in Aught's stony flesh.
Fortunately, Aught manages to slice the remainder of the militiaman's head off before he can get close enough to swing.