"I think we wait until this thunder and lightning is gone. I'd rather not let that epic beast take any more chunks of my flesh from me."
Kern states as Mikhail wraps bandages around his abdomen.
Banged up but safe for the moment, the team hunkers down in the hidden staircase to the ancient elvish observatory.
After several hours, the storm lessens to mere snow flurries.
What now?
Piotr looks out towards the clearing.
"Who is going to find out whether the thunderbird has taken its egg and gone home?"
"Give me a moment." Kern says as he gets up from sitting with an annoyed puff of breath.
Kern walks toward the cave and gradually takes the shape of a small cat.
Kern-cat watches the cold skies as the flurries fall. Talon Peak is shrouded in thunderclouds and he cannot see any details. But the way down appears to be clear.
When Kern returns Mikhail gathers his gear and heads out of the cave to go down the mountain.
Piotr follows, keeping Corb close despite his familiar's assurances that "he can look after himself".
Reporting back that the coast is clear, Kern asks the group with a smile.
"So, do we think abandoned cyclops ruins will be any less dangerous?"
So tell me where you go!
The team spends a difficult two weeks in the Tors of Levenies, the low but very rugged mountain range that stands between the Greenbelt on the west and the more arid Dunsward to the east.
On the thirteenth day it is cold and threatens rain, but the prospect out over Lake Silverstep is so beautiful you hardly notice your own fatigue. There, in a long vale that winds back into the Tors, you come upon a grizzled gnome leading a heavily-laden mule up a slope. He eyes you with more curiosity than fear as you approach.
"Can't say as I 'spected to meet anyone on this side t'the lake today," he says. "You fellas lost? Or were you looking for ol' Miss Maisey here?" He pats the mule affectionately.
Kern's eyebrow lifts to a peak.
"Well met... Miss Maisey. I am Kernithar and am scouting for my party."
He gestures as the rest of the crew catches up.
"We are not lost, but are surveying the land for the Sword Marches kingdom. Lord Alister is our ruler. What brings you up into these Tors? Are you a trader of sorts?"
"Prospector," he says. "Clockmort Domblevoster at yer service. I been prospectin' these here mountains for nigh on twelve years now. Been up and down 'em. In and out. Ain't never found much ore. Found some tin once. But there's treasure in these hills, sure enough. You heard of Silverstep's hoard?"
"I can see you ain't. Well, there was this here dragon, see. Big one. Lived here a thousan' years ago. Lake's named for him. Legend says he had this huge bed a' gold and gems. It were somewhere in the Tors, and ain't no one ever found it."
"Do you have any idea what happened to the dragon? It seems odd for such a creature to just disappear. Mikhail says.
Clockmort regards Mikhail and the others as they come up behind Kernithar. He scratches his backside and laughs, his long green mustache twitching.
"They say he disappeared into the First World! Followed a fairy down there and never came back up!"
Alister wipes the sweat from his forehead. "Well, I suppose I can believe that. Following faeries into the First World isn't for the faint of heart, even for a dragon." He looks over the gnome and his mule. "Twelve years?! You have some dedication on you, Clockmort. It's a wonder you haven't given up and tried your hand elsewhere. Would you be willing to share your maps with us? Perhaps we can give you something in exchange?"
Piotr perks up at the mention of the gnome's discovery of tin. While not as glamourous or valuable as gold or gems, a tin mine would still benefit the economy of the kingdom.
"Yes, sir, we would be interested in any potential mines that you have found. ANd, as my companion states, we would be willing to pay or sponsor your work. You could spend winters in Stagfell, or another community in the realm," he states.
Clockmort regards you patiently. "Ain't got no maps, Mister." He taps his head. "It's all up here. Maps can get lost. Maps can get stolen. But if I lose my head, the maps are the least a' my worries."
"You got beer in Stagfell? It's been a spell since I had a beer. Well, maybe I'll visit one day. Anyway, I ain't greedy. You fellas want ta know about these mountains, I'll tell ya. But if you serve this here Lord Alister, why don't you tell him I got a boy in Jovvox that wants ta be a knight. You could fix him up right? As one of them..." He snaps his fingers. "Squires. He could be a squire. Right?"
Kern nods in agreement with the gnomes mental map making.
"Would you care to share a fire for the evening? Then you can tell him yourself." Kern says with a wry smile and quick nod toward Alister.
Kern glances to the grey sky that smells of rain.
"I'll look for a dry spot for us to all rest."
Clockmort tries to puzzle out Kern's mysterious words until finally the light goes on. "Oh! You're the...whatchacallit? King? Baron? I heerd it called both ways." His hands flutter uncertainly until he finally settle on a sort of half-bow. Miss Maisey brays unconcernedly.
"Uh, sure. I could do with a spot of soup or something. Yer, uh, highness."
Later, as the groups sits around a small campfire, he asks "Whaddya wanna know?"
Alister smiles at Kern and motions for him to sit with Clockmort. He settles in himself by the warm fire. "Perhaps we can show you our maps and you can tell us what's around here. But first, I'd like to hear more about you boy. Why does he want to be a knight? And for Lord Alister of all people. He's liable to find himself pulling carrots more than jousting. What's his name?"
Clockmort smiles at the thought of his son, and it takes years off his face for just a moment. "Oh, sir. That'd be Dimble. He's a lad of fourteen summers and he dearly loves them stories 'a his. Kings and ladies and knights. 'What's wrong with being a gnome?' I ask him. 'Gnomes is in lots a them stories. Clever and good with your hands, that's what a gnome should be. And so he is, sir. So he is. But he's got knights on the brain."
"It's my way a' thinking that if he sees up close and real like, like as not he'll want to take up gardening or basket weaving or something. There's no shame in pulling up carrots, sir. No shame at all. Wouldn't a bit a' carrot go nice with this here meal? 'Course it would."
"It takes all kinds of work, and people, for the kingdom to work," replies Piotr.
"Some people pursue only one trade, profession, or what have you. Some do many different things. Whatever your son chooses to do, he would be a valued addition to Stagfell."
Piotr considers for a moment. "Could you tell us the location of the tin deposit? How could we pay you for that information? Besides supplies, of course, which could even include a keg of the finest ale brewed in Stagfell."
"Well, send Dimble to Stagfell if you would. I'm sure Lord Alister would be happy to meet him. And perhaps we can put him to use in a way that he would enjoy. We have several mighty fighters, but we can always use clever gnomes with good hands too. We can put in a good word for him with the Lord and Lady." He smiles at the gnome.
"Yes, what is this about a tin deposit?" Alister pulls out a set of maps. "Could you show us where it is?"
Clockmort seems to think. "I'll send him, Sir, though maybe his mama won't like it. She's not one to let go. Anyways, I never did learn ta read. Seems like that there'd be the lake, yeah? And this'n here's the Little Sellen? Well, it's over in this area for sure." He points to hex 1025. [b]"Course, I searched that area for six months afore I found that particular valley. It's all peaks and valleys there, very rugged. You have to look for the hanging rock that's shaped like a sheaf of wheat, and then head up the valley to the one that's kind of like a woman laying on her side. That's where the tin is."
"'Course, it's also where the manticores is."
Kern raises an eyebrow at the mention of rugged mountains and manticores.
Done.
Alister is writing notes on what Clockmort is saying, but then looks up when he mentions manticores. "Uh, Manticores?" He flips several pages with a concerned look on his face, but then finds another notation and then sighs and nods. "What can you tell us about them? How were you able to get through to the tin deposit?"
Aristu peers over Alister's shoulder at the map and considers what he knows about manticores.
Clockmort sniffs. "They're mean, but they're also stupid. I left a goat staked out a few miles away and when they went to investigate, why, I managed to slip in and look around. I was forced to hide in one a' them caves for awhile, but enough to know there's a fair-sized bit a' ore in there."
Aristu knows quite a bit about manticores, having read about them in [i]On the categorization of Hybrid and False Hybrid Species."[/b]
The manticore is a monstrous amalgamation of lion, dragon, and human with a penchant for feasting on human flesh. Its distinctive tail is festooned with large quills like those of a porcupine, which the manticore flings at prey by whipping its tail like a sling. These deadly spikes give the manticore the power to slaughter even well-armed warriors from the safety of the sky.
Although the anthropomorphic face of the manticore suggests a keen intellect, most creatures of its kind are simple-minded killers. They can be clever liars, however, and their voices have a strangely musical sound that has lured many unwitting travelers into an ambush. A manticore discovered by uneducated humanoids (especially those who are both lawful and evil) can sometimes become the center of adoration and even worship; a manticore in this situation swiftly gives in to its laziness and allows its acolytes to bring it tribute in the form of food and treasure, feasting upon its own followers when offerings become scarce. Stronger humanoids who encounter a manticore can cow it through intimidation and violence, sometimes even forcing it into service as a mount. As long as the manticore is well fed with human flesh and its master leads it to victory, a manticore mount can prove surprisingly loyal.
Aristu is fairly certain his companions would be a match for one or two manticores.
Aristu asks Clockmort, "How many manticores are we talking about?" He turns to the others, "I'm sure we could handle a pair, but more than that will be interesting."
"Well, I seen two fer sure. I think they was a mated pair. But I don't know if'n there's more."
"Quite the wise action, to lure them out. We should try to do the same. Then we can set some traps."
The lunch with Clockmort Domblevoster wraps up and he prepares to head north with Miss Maisey. What will you do now?
Mikhail asks, "Shall we keep exploring or head over to deal with the Manticores? Any miners we send this way will be in danger as long as they are in the mountains and attacking those who pass through."
"Well, if the manticores are like other predators, the young ones will eventually strike out in search of new territory and mates," says Piotr.
"They could go in any directions, but it's roughly a 50:50 chance they will head towards our territories. As much as I hate to admit it, it is probably best to deal with these dangerous predators before they kill any of our people."
"Good point, Piotr."
Kern stands from his lunch.
"We should scout the lands along the way so we know how feasible claiming them will be."
He gives a look to Alister.
"If claiming them is your intent, m'lord."
Alister glances at Clockmort Domblevoster and Miss Maisey. He gives a small smile. "Aye, let's go explore the Tors and see if we can draw out the manticores. Whether we claim the area is yet to be seen, but these are dangerous creatures."
Aristu packs up his things as they get ready to head out. "The manticores will want to use their wings to stay out of reach while they fire their quills at us, so our warriors will need flight in order to engage them."
Several days later, you have crawled over many hills and up into various valleys when suddenly you hear a great roar not far ahead and a huge creature tops the rise in front of you. Taller than a man and much bigger, it has the body of an enormous lion, the wings of an enormous bat and a very human-like face. It snarls and bares it teeth. A manticore!
Mikhail grips his crossbow but does not aim it at the creature as he says, "How intelligent is this thing? Is it something that we can negotiate with?"
Kern slowly draws his curved blade and squints into the distance, studying the manticore for weaknesses and strengths.