"Has it... spoken to you?"
Eyes wide, Townsend replies, "no - why, do you think it's going to?"
"Well, yes... in fact, there's a whole Academy in..." She's not sure Nakpik knows what human countries are. "ah, the human kingdoms, that offers to teach the talented or the wealthy the art of magic. Unfortunately, though, I don't think they take your folk."
Unwilling to pass up this golden opportunity to learn withcraft or wizardry, Nakpik persists. "I could wear a disguise. Or, or something. I don't know. But there has to be a way. Well, there doesn't have to be a way, but I'd greatly prefer it if there were a way." She looks up at Jen. "Is there a way?" she pleads.
"no - why, do you think it's going to?"
"It houses the souls of its previous owners," Jen explains to the confused and shaken warrior. "When the blade has... bonded with you sufficiently, they will reach out."
She looks up at Jen. "Is there a way?" she pleads.
The arcanist considers the idea, then says, slowly, "I suppose I could teach you, but in return for providing your tribe with a caster, I ask that the Sootscales share their knowledge with me."
The day dawns overcast and drizzly. Farewells are said, mules and ogres loaded (well, ogre loaded), and the party heads off along the Skunk River, which does not smell so foreboding as it's name would suggest.
Before the sun's reached it's midway point in the sky, the party is back in unfamiliar train, trailblazing through virgin woods (insert joke here about the dryads playing with dice and bits of paper instead of getting out and talking with people of the opposite sex) (really, though, this is old-growth forest - the depths of the Narlmarches haven't been disturbed in an age, as a result the forms of animal, plant, sentient, and fey life live together in balance; equilibrium. It's as if the forest is one creature, that has long ago since reached homeostasis - this is an unchanging land, long ago perfected by nature. The different trees and plants have roles decided by efficiency, leveling out at different canopy strata, every one of the towering lifeforms a biome in itself, home to life insect, avian, mammalian, fungi, and vegetable. Here, where footsteps are strangely muted and the sound of birdsong strangely amplified, that familiar sensation comes over you, that sensation at once that here you walk on hallowed ground, and that here you intrude on hallowed ground, comes over you. Well, some of you, leastways, I imagine Bright Awn feels more or less perfectly at home, and Guthruc, well, Guthruc . . .
I'm sure the rest of you are quite awed, though.) and drawing maps while you do so. The party makes it's way West, towards the Hooktongue Slough and the promise of tepid water it holds, but there are more pressing destinations. You were told by denizens of the Stag Lord's hold that the elves hold court beyond the Murque River, but to cross that bridge when you come to it you must first wet your feet in Skunk-ier waters. What plans have ye for fording the mighty Skunk?
That, and can I get a marching order? And a watch order, assuming you're keeping one. I can neither confirm nor deny rolling for an encounter in this hex, though I didn't, but this is the sort of thing I need to know ahead of time!
Mr. Winky scouts ahead, his shadowy form looking like nothing more than a distant wisp of smoke.
The beauty of the scene is something of tabletop RPG games; something that can seemingly only be imagined.
But alas, the peace and harmony is suddenly sundered by Guthruc, who soon finds a lovely songbird to eat... alive.
|
Abaos is fascinated by all the scenery, and absolutely terrified by it. Bright Awn is the one who loves nature; Abaos, now, he feels much more comfortable in a tavern or gambling hall, where 'civilized' people live. He swears he can feel eyes on him the whole time he's walking; his fears worsen when Guthruc suddenly snaps up a bird that's been spying on them.
So when the party comes to the shore, a few ideas are pitched forth. Abaos,rather than participate in said arguments, carefully makes his way over to the boggard. Since the boggard rarely leaves Guthruc's side, this provides Abaos an easy, ready translator. "Hey, Guthruc," he says, "why don't you ask your buddy how he crossed? Obviously he got over here somehow, right?" He smiles, hoping he looks relatively non- threatening.
Anura answers Abaos’s question himself. “Skunk River am not from Hooktongue Slough, am not to Hooktongue Slough. Am have other from, am to Tuskwater. But it am lead in the right direction, towards where sun am set. Am have crossing,” since he’s accustomed to traveling via waterways, Anura’s a little hazy on how long it takes to walk places, “but am several days toward where sun am set, and am best for wyverns. Not big wyverns like Tatzy, am small wyverns.”
Jen is comfortable among the trees, under the sun and without the wary frowns of civilized folk to weigh her down. Less comfortable now, though, as Guthruc smashes some hapless bird and begins to tear off bloody chunks with his bare fists. That could be us after a nasty run-in, there's always something bigger and more... violent than you...
She shakes her feeling of apprehension off and eyes the river. "I don't think all of us can make it across swimming," she says. "Maybe a bridge of some sort..." She searches for the tallest tree in the vicinity and tries to gauge its height from a distance.
"No. But maybe I can carry the lighter ones here." Iorskan stretched his wings as he said this.
Some of the taller trees are more than a hundred feet tall, by matching a tall tree to a narrow point in the river, it'd be easy enough to fashion a makeshift rounded bridge, if that's the route you take.
"No. But maybe I can carry the lighter ones here." Iorskan stretched his wings as he said this.
Zornesk's eyes light up at the idea of getting a dragon ride. "Me first! Can I go first?"
Iorskan responded by taking flight, swooping around, and grabbing the kobold. Within seconds the two were into the air and across the river. The dragon gently put his subject down and returned for the next.
Guthruc walks over to a tall nearby tree and attempts to fall it... without an ax.
He slams into the tree, imbedding himself with some of the worst splinters known to man. Cracking sounds are heard as the tree strains against the force.
Awn enjoys the shade and dappled light of the forest, and that each step he takes removes him from a recent past of blood and pain and toward...more of the sam....err...possibly seeing his people. Truthfully, he still does not know what he and his companions carry with them in their hearts nor what fate wraps them. Being as he is, elf-raised and forest-formed he does know the elves and the forest intimately and what both of those forces require to sustain.
As he watches Guthruc's ministrations upon the standing giant Awn's eyebrows raise in consideration.
"Immense! is all he mutters, though to what he is referring to is left to the reader to interpret.
Guthruc walks over to a tall nearby tree and attempts to fall it... without an ax.
[dice=Strength check while raging]1d20+7
He slams into the tree, imbedding himself with some of the worst splinters known to man. Cracking sounds are heard as the tree strains against the force.
Though Guthruc struggles with might and main, the tree is unmoved.
Iorskan has no problem ferrying everyone but Auchs and Elminster across the river.
After scaring the life out of several nesting birds and sleeping squirrels with the sudden disturbance, Guthruc picks some tree bark out of his flesh. There is but a quick breath of calm before the orc transforms into a cardinal-Guthruc hybrid, still as gruesome as unatural as ever: skin pulled tight over warped flesh, bone broken and tearing through unaccomodating flesh in some places, and a voice that send chills down one's spine.
He instructs Anura to support the heaviest two nembers of the party from below while Guthruc and Iorskan flew overhead, lifting them.
Someone gimme a handle animal check!
As Guthruc rams himself into the tree, sending all manner of birds flying in a veritable cloud of feathers, Jen finds she has to agree with Awn. "Yes... An immensely bull-headed orc." she mutters under her breath. She stands too far from anyone for them to hear her, except perhaps Iorskan, whom she now asks for a ride.
"Be gentle with my donkey, please," Jen adds. "The poor creature's had a rough time of it since I forced him out here."
Jen looks down in delight as the river passes below her. She's never flown before and there's something wonderful about it. Of course, her airtime joyride comes soon to an end, but she resolves to discover her own form of flight...
For now, though, her tension has dissipated and she finds herself somewhat more talkative as she turns to the nearest person and attenpts to strike up some friendly conversation.
"Hello," she says. "the woods are quite beautiful in these parts...
When Elminster starts to panic, Ozzy instinctively rushes in to sooth the beast with a calm word and a scratch behind the ear.
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For now, though, her tension has dissipated and she finds herself somewhat more talkative as she turns to the nearest person and attenpts to strike up some friendly conversation.
"Hello," she says. "the woods are quite beautiful in these parts...
Akiros nods.
"That they are." The Stag Lord's former captain looks somewhat uncomfortable. He spends a moment running the words through his head, and then says, "I've yet to apologize properly to you. In my defense in that regard, the one of having yet to apologize, there are a lot of people whom I must beg forgiveness of. In defense of my facilitating your unlawful capture and the exploitation of your magical talents, there is nothing that can be said. Your generosity, your collective generosity," he gesticulates in the direction of the other party members, "but especially your generosity, you who I have personally wronged, in offering me a second chance I've done nothing to merit, is . . ." he goes looking for the word, finds it, "appreciated."
The worst thing that ever happened in Elminster's life was when she was dragged, half under the water, half through the air, across a hundred feet of turbulent water by two airborne predators and one in the water, lurking under her feat in the murky Skunk.
Elminster fought valiantly, of this there can be no doubt. She bit the green feathered fanged two-legged monster. She bit that monster repetitively. She bit that feathered fanged two-legged monster like it was a regenerating carrot and she had a personal vendetta. It didn't. Do. Jack. Squat.
She nearly bucked the dragon off her, halfway across the river. There was a good long moment where it looked like she was going to escape. And maybe she would have drowned. That was a possibility she was willing to accept. Better to face the possibility of drowning than the certainty of being eaten by a dragon.
And she kicked the water monster so many times, by the time it crawled out of the river and she recognized it as one of the two-legged people she'd been walking with before everyone tried to eat her, she almost didn't recognize it as one of the two legged people she'd been walking with before everyone tried to eat her.
Elminster, wet, exhausted, but alive, thankfully alive, alive thanks (probably) to the girl who'd sat on top of her and rubbed her neck and shouted at the predators whenever they nearly dropped her in the river, Elminster, wet, exhausted, but alive, collapsed in a shivering pile on solid ground, and resolved to never move, ever again. She'd already resolved such when she noticed that the spot she was never going to move from was right next to the rather large two legged creature that occasionally tried picking her up like a cat. This was not good. But, she realized, the large two legged creature was in much the same straights as herself - wet, exhausted, and traumatized. All of a sudden, the equine felt a deep spiritual kinship with the large creature.
That ended when the giant scooped her up into it's enormous arms and buried it's face in her side and started blubbering about how it was cold and wet and friendless, and how it never had a pet because Dovan said it wasn't allowed and besides it terrifies animals. Elminster can attest personally to the accuracy of that last part.
Elminster hates everything.
Jen stills for a moment as if in complete and utter surprise, and then she smiles and says, "Your sincere apology and regret is enough, I think." She looks about ready to say something else, but then sees Auchs grabbing poor Elminster and rushes over.
"Hey!" she yells, waving her arms around to get the giant's attention. "Put my donkey down, would you?" Her brain urges her to begin readying a spell - just in case - but she quashes that and attempts to continue her bout of bravery without arcane backup.
With mumbled apologies, Auchs returns Elminster to the earth. The quadruped immediately bolts for it, but finds herself hemmed in by the river and trees, so she turns her back to something solid and stares at Auchs with wild eyes.
At any rate, Elminster, the eponymous equine, not the Gary Stu from Faerun, is by some manner calmed, and after a break to dry off, eat the midday meal, catch their breaths, and, in the case of one Boggard diabolist, use their profane powers to heal themselves of Elminster's righteous thrashing (again, Elminster the donkey, not the type blue), our merry band proceeds on their merry way, in their merry fashion. Eating birds.
Eventually, what with the sun going down and the wind picking up, the party makes camp.
I still don't have a marching order or a schedule for who's on what watch, so I'm going to assume that any given time Guthruc is awake, 75% of the time Jen's awake, and at all times there is another PC and NPC awake.
Abaos, Auchs, Guthruc, and Jen are awake.
Jen stares at her spellbook and alternates waving her hands about, mumbling under her breath, and scribbling in the ink-stained tome. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Guthruc to ensure he doesn't eat her while she's distracted.
Something moves in her periphery, and, looking up, she turns to Abaos, but whatever it was is gone the next moment.
Must be my nerves getting the better of me.
Guthruc notices something in the corner of his eye. He vaugly sees some reptilian humanoids, but his ruined and sleep deprived eyes make the figures indistict and hard to focus on. He assumes they're allies and ignores them. Afterall, Iorskan already recruited all the kobolds in the stolen lands.
Eventually, the kobolds leave, good sense getting the better of any curiosity or malice they might have.
The sun dawns, and breakfast is made. Wood is burned. Songs are sung. By Townsend. And then Dharak looked at him weird and Townsend felt awkward and stopped singing and then Dharak felt awkward and decided to go do something else somewhere else.
"Oi, Guthruc! Do me a favor and sate m'idle curiosity?" the half-orc requests. "I've seen you in a fight, and, no offense, your footwork's shoddy. You've beat me before in a contest of strength, but I'm curious - I think I might be your match in a battle of skill." Dharak grins a toothy smile. "Whad'ya say? Wanna go a round in the ring with the best bare-knuckle brawler this side of where Auchs is standing?"
And . . . FIGHT!
Guthruc happily obliges, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Dharak might've thought to get the jump on Guthruc after an entire night of no rest, but he was solely mistaken as Guthruc enters rage and slams into the half orc. The blow looked less like a punch, and more like guthruc was trying to mimic the combat style of his club, but instead with his forearm.
Guthruc grins as the half-breed struggles against his terrifying strength.
Guthruc's poor technique leaves him open, though Dharak's reeling from the full-orc's hammerlike blow, he takes advantage of Guthruc's poor form and tries to put the full orc on the ground.
"You hit like a bear," the brawler sputters, backing off so that Guthruc can regain his feet. "But you leve yourself wide open." The two combatants square off against each other again.
Dharak gets the jump on Guthuc this time, dancing around at the edge of Guthruc's superior reach, waiting for the flesheating berserker to expose himself.
Dharak explodes into a flurry of motion, trying to put Guthruc off balance, but the orc's ready for it this time, and his sheer bulk lets him stave off his smaller opponents attack.
Guthruc only becomes more furious as he is tripped followed by Dharak dancing outside his reach. "Doesn't matter if I'm open if the enemy can't harm me" Guthruc lunges forward and swings his arm in the path of Dharak's chest, clotheslining the brawler mid-step.
The blow slams Dharak into the ground, knocking the wind and the conscience out of the half-orc.
Guthruc exits rage, towering over the dropped half-orc. "Skill is only benificial if you are strong enough to weild it against your foe."
Hanging on to consciousness by merit of his orc ancestry, Dharak stumbles away from Guthruc.
"You're good - natural talent," he slurs. "I can, show you, a few, tricks. Potential." And with that fragmentary sentence Dharak slumps to the ground, gets a CLW off Bokken, and the party proceeds on it's merry way.
Dharak is enthusiastic about the idea of teaching Guthruc how to fight with form, declaring that Guthruc has the potential to be a, quote, "real beast in the ring."
Map updated!
The party wanders through pristine woodland, with nary a trace of human habituation. As they go, the methodically map the hex, so that they don't have to come back and do so later.
Mr. Winky finds a campsite. Twice.
"Man was here." Guthruc investigates the remnants of the camp. "Many man. And large cat." He looks into the age and direction of the tracks left by his newfound prey.
Jen tramples across the campground as she chats with Nakpik. "You have a radish monopoly?"
He looks into the age and direction of the tracks left by his newfound prey.
Only to be brought to a halt as the head of their marching order halts, causing everyone in front of her to slow to a stop as well. Jen peers around the people in front of her and directs some of her first voluntary words at the orc.
"How many?" she asks. Then, coming closer and seeing the awakened bloodlust in the warking's eyes, she turns to a more rational member of the group. "I don't think we should rush in after them without more information," she says to Ozzy.
”A good point. I’ll see what’s happening from above.”
With a few flaps of his wings the dragon was airborn, and scouting out the habitation from
Above.
Guthruc, looking over the tracks again, realizes he made a mistake - there was only one human. Human prints look quite different depending on whether they're wearing shoes, socks, or nothing on their feat at all, so the barefoot orcs initial confusion is understandable.
Iorskan, from above, ascertains that the camp is quite deserted - whoever stayed here has since moved on.
”Nobldy there, nothing to eat!” Iorskan said as he landed. ”Let’s go. Mystery solved.”