New Galifar Times, 14 Eyre 998YK
Tensions rising on disputed Aundair, Thrane border
The diplomatic war of words between Aundair and Thrane has escalated further over the province of Thaliost. Aundair has increased troop numbers on its border with Thrane, while Thrane has been reinforcing its border defences. Both sides accuse the other of provocation.
Thaliost was part of Aundair until it was annexed by Thrane towards the end of the Last War, and was permanently ceded by Aundair to Thrane as part of the Treaty of Thronehold. However, tensions remain high between both nations. Aundair accuses Thrane of terrorising its former citizens, including atrocities such as public burnings of dissidents. Thrane responds that Aundair has been stirring sedition against its legitimate rule within Thaliost in contravention of its treaty obligations.
Aundair and Thrane have largely suspended diplomatic relations, with Breland and Karrnath acting as mediators between the two. King Kaius of Karrnath has publically called upon Queen Aurala and the Council of Cardinals to set aside their differences and enter into meaningful negotiations in the interests of peace.
Independent analysts suggest that immediate conflict is unlikely. Both Aundair and Thrane were significantly weakened by the Last War and have yet to recover economically and militarily. Unless the strategic situation changes dramatically, war between the two nations would likely be inconclusive and could open up either to attack from other combatants. The current situation is regarded largely as posturing intended to deflect from domestic concerns. While open conflict cannot be ruled out -
The prospecting camp leader, an old man with long straight grey hair and a face like dark fissured leather, wraps the yellowed newssheet round the dragonshard. The news is already months old anyway, and the Five Kingdoms are half a continent away. He packs it into the sawdust-filled crate with the others. "There you go," he says to Bokehn, the Tharashk agent, "That's the last one."
The grizzled half-orc grunts, "Not as many as last time."
"No," replies the camp leader, "But the ground's getting played out round here, and heading further afield means heading into lizardfolk territory. That'll break our obligations, as you well know."
Bokehn just sniffs, then begins filling in the paperwork. The shed is dark, the wooden walls sweating in the humid jungle air, but his dark eyes don't need the light like a human. Without looking up he asks, "Any news from upriver?"
"Only the usual."
"Hnnnm." Bokehn glances up and fixes his newest recruits with The Look. "Don't just stand there. Get those crates into the boat."
Outside the squats Camp Vinor in all its festering glory. A few prospectors, taking leave from digging Eberron shards out of the unforgiving jungle earth, lounge about outside their barracks chatting, smoking or grabbing at the grubby-looking camp-followers that have made it this far. A handful of intrepid traders have set up shop in flimsy-looking shacks, and a couple of filthy naked children chase some squabbling chickens. The ground squelches underfoot and the air stinks of bodily waste and wood smoke. Buzzing flies constantly attempt to crawl into at eyes and mouths. The sky is dark with clouds and thunder rumbles in the distance.
A short jetty sticks out into the turbid, rain-swollen river. Tied up at the end is the boat to which Bokehn was referring. The Silver Maiden, a light Lyrandar vessel designed for river travel and powered by a bound air elemental, bobs in the rapid current. This is the Ouse, a major tributary of the Adder, the largest river in Q'Barra. Five days south is New Galifar and civilisation. But here the jungle is supreme and men tread with caution, or not at all. Outside the camp palisade, and on the opposite bank a hundred yards away, the trees press in. Beyond is the dark vastness of the forest where, if the stories are to be believed, lurk ancient horrors guarded by angry lizardfolk and worse. If it wasn't for the dragonshard trade, you wouldn't be here at all.
"Hnnnm." Bokehn glances up and fixes his newest recruits with The Look. "Don't just stand there. Get those crates into the boat."
Rehil shrugs and looks at his fellows. Without a word he picks up a crate, swings it easily to his shoulder and marches out the door toward the Silver Maiden.
This is the way he's been the entire trip, a quiet and willing worker. If addressed directly, he'll speak and his replies are normal and pleasant enough, but there's a nearly imperceptible lag, like he consciously has to think through the conversation before he engages his mouth. This tiny quirk is a reef on which the ship of every conversation risks grounding. Even though he looks and sounds like a normal strong young elf, most interlocutors come away thinking he's odd or maybe a bit simple.
At The Look, a massive shadow takes a lumbering step away from the wall and stoops to pick up one of the larger crates, adding a low stone-on-stone grinding undertone to the sounds of breathing in the small hut. Crate in-hand, the warforged stoops to follow the elf through the door of the small shack and into the camp beyond.
Once clear of the door, Cole steps to the side, giving the other recruits room to exit as he stands to his full seven foot height. The thick cords that make up his back musculature flex and groan like branches of an old oak in the wind. He lets his senses adjust to the outside lighting for a few seconds, dull eyes sliding between shelter, miner, and trees beyond before he continues his slow, ponderous steps that carry him behind the elf towards the waiting Lyrandar ship bobbing in the Ouse.
Setting the crate carefully in its designated spot on the deck, Cole takes a moment to shrug the strap of his greatsword back into a comfortable spot as he watches the far shoreline. For one of the first times on the trip, he speaks.
"Do you think we'll see any?" His voice is a strange rumble from deep within his heavy frame, and he doesn't continue until the elf looks over. "The local lizardfolk. I hear they raid up here often." His two-fingered, metal hand touches on the edge of the shield that is seemingly always hanging on his back as he begins to make his way back towards the shack for another crate.
At Bokehn's words, Portforged nods its head, and quietly began moving crates. It was a simple task, and he could perform simple tasks tirelessly forever, without complaint. And yet...he did long for the excitement he was built for.
It glanced around at its new companions. They all seemed fairly straightforwards, but Portforged had yet to be introduced to any of them. There simply had not been any need, and idle chatter was certainly not something Portforged engaged in.
Lizardfolks, it thought, hearing the other warforged's words. I certainly hope we encounter them...
William look for the smaller crates the normal sized one were way beyond his ability to manage. Or so he let other to believe. Overall he just enjoyed the trip it was his first time in Q'Barra, and he enjoyed it greatly, Although fred didn't like it that much as she shed more than usual
The tall warforged pauses when his words are ignored, and he looks back at the other workers briefly. After a few seconds of watching them, he simply turns back to the task at hand, walking the length of the small elemental-bound craft to make sure no one has boarded or tampered with it. He gives a quick look to his long-hafted hammer leaning near the prow.
When nothing is noticed, Cole makes his way back off the boat and into the shack for more crates... his long, thick legs carrying him in an unnaturally steady gait. He ignores the hard stares of some of the shard miners much as he ignored his co-workers silence… a stone in a soft rain.
"Mr. Bokehn," his low voice hums inside the shack, "what other preparations are necessary for the return trip?" He lifts the crate with the same stone-grinding sound as he waits for an answer.
"Return trip? We've barely got going. Got four more camps upriver before we head back to Newthrone. You leave the thinking to me." The half-orc turns back to his conversation with the camp leader.
Back on the Maiden, the crew are stowing the cargo in preparation for departure. There are four, rivermen little less scurvy-looking than the prospectors, plus the captain, Darien. A half-elf with a pock-marked face and long black hair held under a kerchief, he consults the river chart before looking up and at the jungle with a look of vague disgust.
He turns to Will. "Tell Bokehn we need to get going soon. The thunder makes the elemental restless and harder to control." He then scratches idly at the dragonmark on his forearm and goes back to his chart.
Portforged listened to the discussion...
Let's hurry up, then!
Focusing its mental energy, it willed its arms and legs to move supernaturally fast .
On the second trip back to the boat loaded with crates, Rehil answers Cole's question, "Sorry about before. I -- I had something else on my mind. I don't know if we'll see lizardmen, but Tharashk does. Lizard men or some other kind of trouble. I've never been up river like this."
He pauses to draw breath and shift the crate. "What do you think?"
The dull-plated warforged shrugs as he puts down the final crate. "I think Bokehn hired on about as many blades as he uses boatmen." He looks upriver before continuing, "And Bokehn says we have more stops."
Something in the big warforged's voice makes you think he'd have a smile as he adds, "And I think Bokehn said I should leave the thinking to him."
Grazzat had mostly remained withdrawn throughout the trip from Newthrone, keeping his cloak pulled up tight so as to avoid as much attention as possible. He had heard the stories of how the so-called 'civilized' races treated those of his kind. He was wise enough not to go out of his way to reveal himself. Nevertheless, his lizardlike appearance was hard to miss.
He emerged from the hut at the rear of the group, his lithely coiled arms bulging while carrying two of the crates effortlessly. The hood of his cloak had fallen back and his golden head looked almost draconic. He nudges past Cole and empties his arms before rising back to his full height, only a few inches shorter than the towering warforged. "You'll see at least one of them." He states through a a toothy smile.
Bokehn eventually emerges from the shed, papers under his arm. He strides past the stacked crates of supplies the Maiden has brought for the camp and heads for the boat. He's tall and broad with a shaven head and brutal countenance that favours his orcish heritage. He's certainly no pushover, but his savage appearance belies a cool and orderly mind and sharp business sense. He marches up the gangplank and says to the captain, "When are we ready to move?"
"A couple of minutes and we can cast off," replies Darien, squinting at the sky.
"Let's get going." Bokehn turns to his recruits. "The trip up here was the easy part. Further north is lizardfolk territory. Most of the tribes along the river are reasonably friendly if we stay off their holy sites. So that's what we'll do. Anyone violating their sites they usually ritually torture and then eat, and I'll hand over any of you that violate our agreements with the tribes to keep the peace. War with the lizardfolk reduces profits, so I'll avoid it at any cost. Understand me? Good.
"Then there's the unfriendly tribes. There's lots of them, though they normally stay closer to the interior. But they also move around, so it's possible we'll encounter some. The Cold Sun tribes are the least hostile. Our friend here" - he nods to Grazzat - "is one of these. Doesn't mean some of them won't try and kill us, but they don't generally hate us, they just consider us prey. I'm hoping Grazzat will be useful as an interpreter should we meet any of the less friendly Cold Suns.
"If we are going to be attacked, it is much more likely to be the Poison Dusk. They really hate us - consider our presence here as violating their land. They're much smaller, about his size" - his head inclines towards Will - "and there's not much talking to them. They're very stealthy, fight from ambush and use poison, so beware and kill any on sight. Fortunately they don't seem to get on with the Cold Suns.
"As for the Blackscales... Well, let's just hope we don't meet any of them, eh?
"And if the lizardfolk don't get you, the jungle might. It's full of monsters that would happily eat you for a light snack, and creepy-crawlies that can poison you, and disease-ridden pools. More dangers than you can imagine, in fact. And it's very easy to get lost away from the river. So keep your eyes peeled, don't wander off, and no one goes anywhere alone, or unarmed, or without telling anyone where you are going. You want to take a sh!t in the woods? Take a friend.
"And last? Do what I say at all times. That way you are most likely to get out of this alive and with all your limbs. Any questions?"
The dull-plated warforged shrugs as he puts down the final crate. "I think Bokehn hired on about as many blades as he uses boatmen." He looks upriver before continuing, "And Bokehn says we have more stops."
Something in the big warforged's voice makes you think he'd have a smile as he adds, "And I think Bokehn said I should leave the thinking to him."
That cracks through Rehil's reserve and he smiles. "A tough customer, Bokehn. ... You better stop thinking then." He giggles nervously and abruptly shuts his mouth. And scowls.
Idiot. Where did that come from? Cole will judge you a halfwit if you keep that up. An old admonishment surfaces, Shut up and get on with the job.
"Let's get going." Bokehn turns to his recruits. "The trip up here was the easy part. Further north is lizardfolk territory. Most of the tribes along the river are reasonably friendly if we stay off their holy sites. So that's what we'll do. Anyone violating their sites they usually ritually torture and then eat, and I'll hand over any of you that violate our agreements with the tribes to keep the peace. War with the lizardfolk reduces profits, so I'll avoid it at any cost. Understand me? Good.
"Then there's the unfriendly tribes. There's lots of them, though they normally stay closer to the interior. But they also move around, so it's possible we'll encounter some. The Cold Sun tribes are the least hostile. Our friend here" - he nods to Grazzat - "is one of these. Doesn't mean some of them won't try and kill us, but they don't generally hate us, they just consider us prey. I'm hoping Grazzat will be useful as an interpreter should we meet any of the less friendly Cold Suns.
"If we are going to be attacked, it is much more likely to be the Poison Dusk. They really hate us - consider our presence here as violating their land. They're much smaller, about his size" - his head inclines towards Will - "and there's not much talking to them. They're very stealthy, fight from ambush and use poison, so beware and kill any on sight. Fortunately they don't seem to get on with the Cold Suns.
"As for the Blackscales... Well, let's just hope we don't meet any of them, eh?
"And if the lizardfolk don't get you, the jungle might. It's full of monsters that would happily eat you for a light snack, and creepy-crawlies that can poison you, and disease-ridden pools. More dangers than you can imagine, in fact. And it's very easy to get lost away from the river. So keep your eyes peeled, don't wander off, and no one goes anywhere alone, or unarmed, or without telling anyone where you are going. You want to take a sh!t in the woods? Take a friend.
"And last? Do what I say at all times. That way you are most likely to get out of this alive and with all your limbs. Any questions?"
Rehil shakes his head, "No."
No questions and do as your told. Odd how often I hear that. At least the lizardman's presence is explained. If he's our interpreter it might be smart to stick close to him.
William just nodded and kept on working.
if there are fight to be have, i just hope not on the boat with them.
Grazzat leans his ear-hole closer when the pale skinned human approached. Listening closely, he shrugged his shoulders as his first response before elaborating. "The half-blood seems to have a basic grasp on the way it is." He begins, the heavy bass in his voice making any attempt at a low whisper futile. He spoke for all to hear. "The Poisondusk will likely be the most prevalent threat. The little bastards are like fleas and crop up just as much. Violent little vermin...but they're squashed just as easily. Blackscales shouldn't be an issue...they tend to frequent the interior of the jungles. But if you do see one, don't be a hero, they're deadly." He states flatly, taking a moment to observe the sky and breath deeply of the river air. "The times are changing, and this is the beginning of a new chapter in the history of man and lizardfolk alike. A few tribes of the Cold Suns have recognized this and are prepared to move forward, as allies. Still there are many more who will have to be convinced, or be eaten." He spoke his words with confidence that was unsettling.
Satisfied with his assessment, he invoked the blood in his veins, using a minor trick to remove the bits of dirt and sweat on his hands and brow from his previous task. Once that's done, he retrieves his cold iron long-spear from where he had left it before assisting with the crates. Striding with spear in hand back to where The Maiden was making ready to leave he gave a small nod to their employer to go along with his toothy smile ."I have no questions, Bokehn, I look forward to the journey."
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Bokehn grunts and turns to the captain. The crew begin casting off the ropes and a few minutes later the Maiden pulls away from the dock. The elemental in the containment ring moans and a strong breeze begins to play across the deck. The boat lurches forward, running against the flow of the river. It picks up speed rapidly, and then begins to lift from the water on stubby legs tipped with wing-like protrusions. Spray flies off the prow of the boat and as it passes the end of the boat is twisted into misty spiral by the backwash from the elemental.
Captain Darien leans casually on the helm, adjusting course to follow the twisting meanders of the Ouse. The dragonmark on his forearm seems to writhe slightly when he is in contact with the wheel. He shouts to his second-in-command, a young half-elf woman called Adris, over the noise of the elemental and the boat's passage. "We can maintain this speed for most of the day. Because it's rainy season the river is high and most of the rocks and sandbars are well-submerged. Higher up it shallower and we'll have to slow down to navigate around them." Adris nods sagely.
Although the boat is moving quickly, the river turns in long loops which turn back on themselves, making overall progress slower. The camp is soon left behind, and on either side of the river instead are the lush, but somewhat monotonous green walls of the jungle vegetation. Birds startled by the boat's passage leap up in a clatter of wings from river-side trees while dragonflies as long as a man's arm scud across the surface of the water. Monkeys gaze down as the Maiden from the heights with round eyes before they launch themselves into space and glide to the next fruit tree on membranous wings.
After about two hours a lizardfolk village is passed. In a partially-flooded clearing by the edge several large mounds of mud and branches jut from the shallow water. A few logs canoes are pulled up on the bank. Some lizardfolk adults look on expressionlessly as the Maiden passes by but they make no moves, hostile of friendly, and they are soon lost from view as the river bends again.
Shortly after, the boats rounds another curve in the Ouse's course. Sprawled half-in and half-out of the river is a massive, partially eaten carcass of some long-necked quadruped dinosaur. Crouched over it is an equally huge reptilian predator. Basically bipedal but with long, powerful forelegs, a snout like a giant crocodile and a sail-like fin of brightly-coloured skin tipped with spines along its back, it rips a giant gobbet of flesh from the belly of its kill and gulps it down as it turns to regard the approaching boat. It roars out a challenge, its gaping jaws revealing blood-stained teeth.
"Alright," says Bokehn from beside Captain Darien. "We'd better hug the far bank until we get past." Darien nods and slows the boat to give himself a chance to avoid any obstacles in the shallows, keeping one eye on the river and the other on the territorial megafauna on the far bank.
"You lot!" calls Bokehn, "Keep 'em peeled! There's blood in the water. It'll bring out scavengers."
Looking at both great creatures with a childlike glee
Anyone know what those are?
Fred has his front paws on the side of the boat as he too wants to like at what is going one.
Ohhh Big ones....
Portforged scanned the area cautiously, yet it was excited for the possibility of some action.
Cole stands much as has for most of the trip, near mid-deck with his long-hafted hammer clutched in one hand as the other hand stabilizes him against the constant bump and buck of the Maiden.
He watches the massive predator to the point of slight distraction despite Bokehn's 'encouragement'.
Anyone know what those are?
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Grazzat keeps his chest high and his eyes peeled, scouring the banks and the river for signs of danger.
Early in the boat journey Rehil moved to the prow to better enjoy the breeze spilling over the gunwales. At Bokehn's command he scans both banks and the water's surface in a continuously looping cycle.
A snaky head packed with needle-like teeth at the end of a long flexible neck rears up out of the water by the side of the boat. It gazes down momentarily at the strange creatures before it before lunging.
Rehil notices a shadowy swirl in the murky river.
"There!" he shouts and points right handed as he snatches up the bow he'd leaned against the gunwale with his left hand. He reaches for an arrow in the quiver at his back even as the head rears. "Get down!" He yells at the crewman nearest the monster.
Shortbow ..... damage
[dice=Init ]1d20 + 0
Very surprised, Portforged tried to ready itself for combat:
.
Grazzat grips the longspear instinctively as the monstrous creature emerges from the murky water. He takes his place behind the front line and prepares his spear to lunge over the halfling's dog.
"Nothin' magic about it, it'll fall like any other!" He calls out a word of encouragement, preparing for the impending battle.
The jaws clash barely an inch above Will's head as he ducks relexively beneath the creature's attack.
"That was close Fred, did you see it trying to snap my head off" he says to fred obviously unconcerned by the danger.
indeed, but careful it might still bit it off.. "Wouf, Wouf !" was his answer as fred prepared himself to bit the monster.
"Down I said!" Rehil leans out over the gunwale to shoot around crewman.
Drawing the bow, he sights down his arrow at the thick part of the neck three spans above the water and looses.
Shortbow ..... damage
The head swings round as Rehil takes aim but the teeth snap on empty air. Rehil's arrow juts from the beast's neck but the damage doesn't seem to slow it down.
Portforged focused its mental energy, and allowed a ray to erupt from its body :
Cole's usual lumbering movements become brutal efficiency as he pivots to raise his massive hammer... simultaneously creating some space to bring it to bear. The hammer's head accelerates to an incredible speed as it arches in a wide circle around the warforged, out over the water, and slams into the thick tree-trunk-of-a-neck.
"Listen to the elf!" he bellows to the boat-men.
That warforged is certainly good at what he does.
Portforged tried to remain focused, unphased by its own failure to land a hit.
Portforged might have hit a barn door, but the creature is a much trickier target and his energy beam is wide. But Cole's blow is right where it needs to be, the hammerhead striking with a meaty thud.
Grazzat clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the spear wordlessly as the ship-deck erupts into chaos. A moment later he is lunging the polearm forward, hoping the point will find purchase in the dinosaur's thick flesh.
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Rehil ducks the beast's teeth, but can't avoid the stink of fish and marsh and rot that is its breath. As he head withdraws, Rehil stands straighter and reaches for another arrow.
Cole having grabbed its attention, the creature lashes back vengefully at the warforged.