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 Recent Posts
“I think it is as good a plan as any, though I’m not sure we will find people anywhere nearby this strange barren place. Still, the sea usually means food of some type, and if move along the shore-line we should hopefully come across a fresh water stream or river at some point. Let’s move forward.” We are a long way from home indeed if this is the ocean ahead ...
Nathaniel digs a shallow grave in the wet earth, using the edge of his shield to scrape away a hollow to lay down what is left of the bard. He searches for stones to lay over the grave to protect the body from scavenging animals. He stands quietly during the ceremony, saying only, “He was brave and true.” When Tiffana laments that she did not tell him how she felt he murmurs, “I think probably he knew.” He does not take anything from the dead bard. Once the simple ceremony is finished he is ready to move on.
In the morning, Nathaniel looks about. “Gah! I was hoping the sunlight would burn off this damnable mist. Well … once we’ve buried poor ‘Kani and broken fast, we do as Tiffana and Eliva suggested last night – try to find civilization. If we can find a road, we follow it. If not, a stream or river. As we are low on supplies I can forage for food as we go.”
Nathaniel actually smiles at the exchange between Erfan and the newcomer – the first time he’s done that in the last 24 hours. After several years of sporadic association he’s become used to the strange little man’s penchant for nudity – personally he just makes sure to look him in the eyes at all times. At the man’s question though Nathaniel’s mirth is shunted aside. “We were in battle with him,” the ranger answers grimly. “He had kidnapped my sister and … injured her. We engaged him in combat in order to stop the ritual he was undertaking with Lenna’s blood, and he called up these mists to make good his escape. Or at least that is what I thought, now I’m not so sure.” Nate looks around again at the unfamiliar landscape half seen through the mist. “I am Nathaniel Greenfellow,” he says, turning back to the stranger. “What is your name? I suggest that we have a common purpose – will you work with us to find Gilbraith and get back to civilization?” Knowing that the man is an agent of the Crown makes Nathaniel a little wary – he’s learnt not to trust the nobility. But it seems wise to work together.
Nathaniel blinks and shakes himself out of his depression. “I was thinking along those lines myself when we first saw the spiders, Treefriend,” the ranger replies in a low voice. “I saw some big spider deep in the woods once – about twelve miles from the village, near Deepwater Crevasse ... but they were, at most, as big as one of those,” he points to the remains of one of the dog-sized spiders, “nothing like that larger one. It’s hard to tell in the dark, and with all this fog, but nothing I’ve seen tonight looks familiar. I don’t know how he did it, but I think Gilbraith’s magic has sent us a long way from home.”
Nathaniel doesn’t know what to say to Tiffana. He has been trying to keep his own grief and fears regarding Lenna under wraps ... now someone else that he feels he dragged into this has died in a horrific way. Numbly he goes and collects his discarded weapons and lantern, nodding dully at Eliva’s suggestion. Now that there is nothing immediately to fight, he’s at a loss.
Angalia’s and Tiffana’s cries of horror and pain (or maybe it is his own voice he hears?) snaps Nathaniel out of his hesitation, as the spiders begin swarming up the womens’ legs. As Tiffana begins to act, Nate casts his axe aside and lunges forward, grabbing Angalia and dragging her bodily out of and away from the swarm.
Nathaniel breathes a deep sigh of relief as the last spider falls to Tiffana’s magic. He nods in gratitude, before hurrying across to help Res free himself from the last of the webbing. Then he turns his attention to where the stranger is pulling himself free from one of the other cocoons and Angalia is trying to unwrap the last one (that hopefully holds ‘Kani ... or could it be Lenna?). The ranger stalks over and offers to help either Angalia or the stranger, whoever seems to need assistance most at this point. “Hello,” he says to the man after ensuring it is not Gilbraith, noting his manner of dress and any weapons he might have to hand. He tries to judge the man’s demeanour and intent as best he can in the dark [ooc]Sense Motive: . “Who are you? How did you get here? Have you seen about a young woman,” he gives a brief description of Lenna.
Nathaniel risks glancing around in time to see Erfan stab the larger spider in the abdomen, dropping it to the ground. “Nice work!” he calls, then returns his attention to the spider attacking him – just in time to dodge aside as its mandibles clack together where his leg was a moment ago. “Anybody want to help me over here?”
Spoiler:
Seeing an opening, the ranger presses the attack, attempting to slam the spider with his spiked shield while hacking away its legs on one side with his axe.
Nathaniel has bent his knees to drop the lantern he holds to the ground and holds his bow ready, an arrow nocked, waiting for the spiders to scuttle into better view through the mist. When Res is webbed, he is torn between taking his shot and helping the cleric ... but then a decision is made for him when Tiffana dashes past to the front of the group and shoots a fan of bright flame at the nearest spiders – enough to singe them but not enough to finish them off, leaving herself exposed. The ranger looses an arrow at the nearest spider, then casts aside his bow and hurries forward, placing himself between the slight sorceress and the oncoming spiders (but not so much that he will be in her way of she does the fire trick again) grabbing his spiked shield and preparing to use if for attack or defence as he moves.
Nathaniel is somewhat slow to react – both because he is heeding Erfan’s warning and looking out for webs, but also because he is looking in fascination at the spiders. He’s always quietly admired spiders for their efficient hunting techniques, but has only rarely glimpsed spiders the size of the dog sized creatures he can discern through the mist in the forests near home, and never anything the size of the egg-bearing female. He shakes himself out of his stupor quickly enough when Res yells out, having been covered in a thrown web. As the spiders scuttle out of the mist towards them, Nathaniel hurriedly nocks an arrow to his bow.
Nathaniel quickly rolls up his bedding and follows Eliva’s example in stringing and readying his bow. He also lights a lantern, shuttering it so that only a soft glow escapes. Seeing that everyone else is ready to move or close to it, he nods. “Let’s move.” Passing Tiffana he pauses beside the small woman. “We’ll find your friend,” he says softly. Secretly he wonders if he’ll make a liar of himself – he’s already failed in one similar promise this day. Shaking such grim thoughts away, he sets off, following the trail by the light shining from Res’ holy symbol and the dim glow of his lantern.
Upon spotting the drag marks, Nathaniel hurriedly but quietly wakes everyone. “’Kani’s gone,” he says bluntly in a low voice. “Looks like he was dragged off in that direction. And look here, there are some strange tracks or something here. You might see them more clearly with a light – see, there. Does anyone recognise them?” Nathaniel peers off into the night . “We’ll have to go after him quickly. Question is, do we all go? I think so, but there might be a benefit in those of us who can move quickly and quietly going on ahead.”
Nathaniel has trouble sleeping, the events of the day – and what he could have done differently – weighing heavily on his mind. He finally falls into a troubled sleep an hour or so before ‘Kani wakes him for his turn at watch. During his watch he walks circuits around the camp perimeter at regular intervals, both to make sure he is overseeing everything and to ensure he does not doze off.
"If we want to double up on any of the watches, I can take the 4th watch with Nathaniel. It will allow me some time for my morning meditation. Also, I have a few trail rations to share if anyone needs some." “Why don’t you take the fourth watch with Angalia? And I will stand the second.” After what has happened to his sister, Nathaniel suddenly feels very protective of his friend (not to mention slightly guilty for getting her – well, everyone – into this mess). It doesn’t occur to him that his concern may come across as doubting her ability, or condescending.
Nathaniel blushes slightly at Tiffana’s comment, though its lost in the darkness and behind the dirt on his face. “I have some trail rations too,” he says. “I was heading out into the wild for a few days when ... all this happened. I have a bedroll and some water ... if we can find some containers or even some broad leaves, we should set them out to gather condensation for water. Though in this terrain and with this mist I expect there must be a water-source nearby.”
“I can’t see any signs of immediate danger,” says Nathaniel, trying to stay busy and useful so as to take his mind off his other concerns, “but nothing here looks familiar. Perhaps it will be different when this mist clears and we have daylight ... but at the moment I don’t know where we are.” “As has been suggested, lets set up camp on high ground. As we don’t know what might be around here, and trying to gather fire wood in this mist could be dangerous, we should keep a cold camp. We’ll share body heat for warmth if the temperature drops later in the night.”
Nathaniel looks up at Tiffana’s touch. His face is tear stained and his fingernails are torn and bloody. “I should have gone to her first,” he says quietly. “Instead of trying so damned hard to kill Gilbraith. I should have gone to her. I just ... I didn’t want to know if she was ... if it was too late for her.” He stands, wipes his face (leaving it smeared with dirt) and looks for his weapons in the mist and dark. “You’re right. I ... shouldn’t give up. Res,” he says, turning his attention to the Gorumite priest. “Do you think your healing may have helped her? Before all of this,” he gestures vaguely to the hills and mist around them.
“Damned magic!” curses Nathaniel as the mist grows ever thicker and Gilbraith slips away from them. As the confused calls of his companions around him indicate that Gilbraith is not to be found, Nathaniel falls to his knees and reaches out towards where he saw Lenna lie ... but all he feels is damp grass beneath his hands. “Lenna!” he exclaims, feeling about frantically. As the mist begins to clear, he sees that the walls of the tower have apparently dissolved or vanished, and that they apparently stand in a field of some sort. Lenna’s body is not apparent. Nathaniel throws aside his axe and shield and begins searching frantically around in the grass for some sign of his sister – if not her, then footprints, blood, something. His fingers claw frantically at the grass, and he begins tearing it out in clumps, as if to see if his sister has sunk beneath the ground. “LENNA!” he shouts desperately.
Nathaniel feels the invigorating power of Res’ god wash over him, but he can’t bear to look down to see if Lenna’s grievous wounds have been healed by the magic. Not yet. Not if it might mean she’s dead. Not if it might mean she lives … and he has any reason to show Gilbraith a shred of mercy. Hot tears fill his eyes, but his face remains a cold mask. “This ends,” he growls. As Gilbraith turns towards him, his sword raised in defense, Nathaniel’s shield arm lashes out of the mist, seeking to batter the lord’s sword arm aside, and then his axe sails in from the other direction, towards Gilbraith’s ribcage.
Blinded by mist, tears, anger and grief, Nathaniel's attacks are wild and ineffectual.
Nathaniel runs up the stairs and stumbles through the mist, unable to see far ahead of himself, but moving towards near where he hears Angalia’s voice. Suddenly he is at the edge of the swirling mist and sees the blood-splattered nobleman before him ... and sees the torn body of Lenna at his feet. For a moment he is overcome with shock, unable to fully comprehend what he sees, unable to formulate a proper response. His hand clenches, loosens and clenches again on the grip of his axe. No ... we can’t be too late. This ... is ... not ...
Nathaniel grits his teeth and yanks the crossbow bolt from his upper arm with a sharp hiss of in-drawn breath, tossing the bloody arrow across the room, then jumps down from the table. “Go,” he growls to the remaining guards. “Now.” He stalks across the room towards the stairway, following Erfan and Angalia up, drops of blood dripping from both the edge of his axe blade and his wounded shoulder, and splattering onto the floor as he walks. He nods to Erfan’s suggestion of casting his glamour on Angalia. Then prepares himself to leap through the opened trapdoor (or help shove it open himself if needed).
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