"The Prince, Nme'an says to the others. "Prince Titus wore a small blue feather as a symbol of rank of sorts. We at least know he made it this far..."
Turning back to the elves, Nme'an solemnly says, "Kuja uovu au wazimu, malipo yetu ni kuokoa mfalme wetu na kulinda maelfu chini ya uangalizi wake. Hivyo, ni lazima kufuata wale ambao walikwenda mbele yetu. Hatma tumeondokana hakuna uchaguzi mwingine." Nme'an turns his gaze back south and continues. "Kama wewe na ndugu zako na dada wanaweza vipuri jicho na sikio kwa ajili yetu ... kukesha juu ya ardhi yetu kutoka Woods kama tayari kufanyika ... Tunadhani kuna inaweza kuwa kama mabaya mengi na wazimu nyuma yetu kama kuna kabla hajafika us ..." Nme'an again looks at the Elves and promises, "Je, hii kwa ajili yetu na sisi ... I... utaona madeni yoyote wakastahiki zaidi ya kulipwa."
Turning back to the elves, Nme'an solemnly says, "Come evil or madness, our charge is to save our king and protect the thousands under his care. So, we must follow those who went before us. Fate has left us no other choice." Nme'an turns his gaze south and continues. "If you and your brothers and sisters might spare an eye and an ear for us... keep watch over our lands from the woods as you have already done... We suspect there may be as much evil and madness behind us as there is afore us..." Nme'an again looks at the Elves and promises, "Do this and we... I... will see any debt incurred more than repaid."
The three nod a small bow to the promise. The quiet one straightens, looks at the others and shifts his weight, eager to be back among the trees.
“Sisi kuangalia, na kusaidia kama haja kuwa, lakini wanaume lazima kuchukua huduma ya wenyewe,“ the first speaker replies. He then nods to his terse companion, acknowledging that they will be going soon. The fabricmaker stifles a giggle as he watches the highlander, hoping another rhyme leaps from his hairy mouth.
“We will watch, and help if need be, but Men must take care of themselves.”
Mots brow furrows as the big man attempts to parse out rhyme from ridicule. Deciding that it was all in good fun the Casns lightly mounts his horse and offers a parting shot.
"Et es widely knoown;
Tha wheen Elven lads doo rooam;
They travel en t'rees;
Whilest hoompin' tha trees;
Looken fer a boosh ta boone!"
The burly warrior let's out a guffaw at his own joke while smiling broadly at the trio. The smallest hint of challenge sparkles in his eyes.
The poet inhales deeply, his eyes and chest growing ever larger, before blurting out a quick-worded answer to the jest in one breath.
“Stronger than an ox!
Thicker than trees!
Sunders bonds and locks
with ease!
Cracking skulls like they are eggs!
Longer beards you will not find,
or hairier arms and legs
than on the Urlghain womankind!”
The first elf holds his sides in laughter, and even the quiet one cannot resist a low chuckle at the exchange between the two poets.
Doubling over in laughter, Themp loses his balance and rolls on the ground.
Nme'an likewise is unable to suppress a smile as he risks a quick glance back to gage Mot's reaction.
With a good-natured huff Mot's grin holds steady. After an extended moments reflection, snaggle-teeth separate and the belligerent behemoth bellows back;
"Aht hoome weth their soowing;
Oor abrood aboot tha land;
Noo finer sight weel yoo be knoowing;
Than ae pretty Elven man!"
Proud of his somewhat less than timely retort Mot leans back as if that were the final say in the matter.
The poet’s hand flings up into the air after a sweeping performer’s bow. A wide grin covers his face as he rises, preening. “Quite true! None can compare!”
“ Hayo ni yote alitaka kusikia,“ the quiet one says flatly before turning to the elves, “Tunahitaji kuwa na kwenda.”
The first speaker stares thoughtfully at the jagged northern horizon, and then turns a sincere gaze to each of the four in turn. “Kuweka sikio ardhini, na jicho angani.”
“That's all he wanted to hear.”
“We need to be going.”
“Keep an ear to the ground, and an eye to the sky.”
The three elves head toward the river, and the forest beyond.
The four continue north, the mountains ahead growing taller and taller with each passing mile. About an hour after meeting of the elves, the four horses come upon five kobold bodies splayed out and lifeless under the sun. Long arrow shafts protrude from their lizardly corpses. Crude, small spears and slings are strewn about, as though all but one perished with a weapon in hand. There is nothing of use or value to be found on them, save for the tiny weapons, a small portion of seared meat, and a necklace adorned with a single fleshy thumb. It is difficult to say, if the original owner of such a pendant was human, elf, or dwarf, but the skin is rotting and missing the nail.
Beorae takes in the grisly scene and looks for any clues or warnings. I wonder, were these kobolds slain by Elves or Knights?
While Beorae keenly inspects the corpses Nme'an studies the grim thumb the one creature is wearing.
The druid has good reason to suspect the wood elves to be killers of these kobolds. It is a preferred weapon among the elfkind, and Beorae isn’t even sure if the knights carried such “cowardly” weapons. Human and elven fletchers use similar materials for the most part, so discerning the makers of the arrows is too difficult to tell. The long shafts and fletching indicate these were made for longbows -longbows crafted for the size of most thinking folk. Halflings and gnomes would be hard pressed to loose an arrow nearly as long as they are tall.
What she also notices, is this: the decaying thumb cannot be any older than three weeks. Surveying the killing field turns up no foot or hoof prints, only the small clawed feet of the kobold party. Their tracks were headed south, until they were attacked. By the way they scattered when the first of them fell, the tracking eyes of the half-elf deduce that the arrows sailed from the east, the direction of the Carenthir forest.
Any religious significance to the thumb necklace is not obvious, especially when so little is known of the kobold belief system. More than likely, it is a primitive token from a kill, similar to Mot’s wolf headpiece he wore for a short time. The thumb-wearer killed either a man, elf, or dwarf, and wanted that distinction known to friend and foe.
There are many philosophies on the approach to combat, and the prevailing one among the experienced knights in the Order of the Dawnflower was to meet an enemy head-on with a sword in hand. In this mindset, bows would be used as a last resort, only to be employed against foes they could not reach with a blade. The Knight Apprentice thinks that if the Prince and his knights happened upon these kobolds, the scaly corpses would show cuts rather than protruding arrow shafts. Some of the questing knights might have not even bothered to bring bows as they rode north.
"So, hmm, since you guys are all goggling them, would it be any more disrespectful of me to gather the arrows?", asks Themp, half-mocking their attentive stares, half-seriously suggesting the arrows could be of use.
"Not the Prince or his knights..." Nme'an comments. "I carry a bow out of family tradition as much as necessity, few among the Prince's guard do. Even if all who carried bows fired on these creatures at once there would still be far more spread among the dead as it would take so long to hit them all."
Beorae nods at Nme'an's conclusion, “Agreed, this appears to be the work of the wood elves. Keeping the kobolds from venturing too far, no doubt. The creatures were headed south when they were attacked,” she looks back toward the forest, “from the forest, it would seem.”
The druidess pauses a moment, considering the thumb. “It's been no more than three weeks since that thumb was attached to its owner. I fear by the timing that it may have belonged to one of the Prince's knights.”
She takes a moment before hopping back up on One Sock, ready to be back on the road.
Surveying the carnage for himself and listening to his companions discussion, Mot stares imperiously from his high horse. "No mooch oof fighters then, tae nae have slaain oone fooe." The warrior says, spitting derisively towards the dead creatures.
The four trot along for several more hours, but it soon becomes clear that they will not reach the mountains until tomorrow. Presently, their mounts seem reluctant to continue, and the sun begins her descent toward the western horizon.
A low growl carries from the river bank and draws the eyes of the four. A large mound of thick fur and feathers stirs among the riverside rocks. From this distance, the creature looks like a bear with feathery shoulders and head, but trees and bushes obscure the immense and muscular oddity. Its attention is on something beside the river, with the sounds of chomping and tearing flesh mixing with chuffs and growls. Whatever the feathered, urisine animal is, it is oblivious to the approach of the four.
"On the right, near the water..." Nme'an says as he brings his horse to a stop. "I cannot make it out..."
He dismounts as quietly as possible, but leaves his shield stowed on his back for the moment. Nme'an slowly moves a little to his right, hoping the shifting parallax of trees and bushes will help paint a clearer picture of the creature...
...but it is of little use. Still being as quiet as he can the knight retrieves his bow... just in case.
Sliding from his horse Mot follows the paladins lead, landing and walking on the balls of his feet.
Suddenly aware of the mysterious beast, Beorae stops her quiet humming, not sure if she was quick enough to avoid detection. Taking a hint from the others, dismounts One Sock as quietly as she can while surveying the area.
Suddenly noticing the beast, Themp slowly umounts Daisy and covers himself with the cloak, trying to remember where he has heard of something as unnatural as that before.
The city-dweller has heard frightening tales from trappers in town to resupply, tales of a monstrous creature –half bear, half owl- that roams the wilds of Vyren as an apex predator. Territorial and very aggressive, these bizarre beasts are simply called “owlbears” by locals and scholars alike. Themp remembers the trappers recalling the horror of losing their companions to an owlbear’s vicious mauling.
A barking snort halts the great creature’s chomping, and it slowly turns with its head in the air, sniffing through small holds in a large, sharp beak. Turning to face the group, a strange roar competes with the river when it seems to have found the source of the scent.
Throwing its head wildly from side to side, the feathered and burly beast works itself into a fury as it gallops around the trees. Sharp claws dig into the earth as thick, powerful legs barrel the freakish carnivore toward the four travelers!
Reminding of the awful tales he's heard, Themp quickly draws his bow, clearly in terror.
"I've heard of this thing before! They're very territorial!", shouts Themp to the band.
"I think..."
He fires the arrow
"...there's no running from it." Not for all of us, I'm sure.
"Nice shot!" Nme'an says as an arrow zips by his head and hits the creature.
Hoping the bear-like creature is startled by the arrow, Nme'an drops his bow and readies his sword and shield as he moves forward with a largely defensive stance.
Nme'an takes a purposely exaggerated swipe at the strange creature, more as a show of force than any real attempt to hit it.
“What is it?” Beorae asks Themp, curious about how the rogue appears to know more about this animal of the wilds than she does. “Ignis!” With a practiced motion and a flick of her wrist, the druidess once again conjures fire into her hands .
Expecting to have to coax Shark into attacking the strange creature, Beorae is surprised when the tiger immediately responds to her command and charges toward the beast with a loud roar.
Themp’s arrow buries into the meaty shoulder, and Shark’s fangs sink in before the owl-faced, ursine monstrosity pulls back with a little blood running through feathers and fur. The strange beast’s red-rimmed eyes roll in wild anger.
The druidess knows that some animals are very protective of perceived threats to their territory, and that is the most probable explanation to the sudden aggression. Then again, this amalgamation of bird and bear might be different. Beorae is not certain, one way or another.
Surprised at the suddenness of the beasts fury Mot attempts to heft spear and throw it...
The brown feathered beast lunges at the grey tiger, wrapping its claws around Shark’s midsection. The big cat squirms and tries to get away, but the monster holds fast, and bites down hard on Shark’s chest. Beorae’s companion struggles no more. Bloody claws let a limp tiger fall from their grasp as the bloody beak releases a challenging roar.
Acting quickly, Nme'an takes a handful of steps back from the strange creature and briefly rests a hand on the comatose tiger. A quick, single syllable prayer, "Tafadhali", proceeds a flow of life giving magic into Shark...
Nme'an waits just long enough to see the grey cat's eyes reopen before bracing himself to absorb the creature's next attack.
As soon as his arrows lands, Themp runs to cover behind a nearby tree and fires another one.
"Tales and rumors I've heard, Freckles." shouts Themp over as he let's the arrow sail. "I vote for you frying that thing with your flames before we figure it out! Unless you can talk it still like those wolfs..."
Eyes widening at the audacity of this strange creature, Mot roars a snarl as Shark is laid low by the furred and feathered abomination. The spaces behind his eyes fill with blood as spittle and bile flow from his snaggle-toothed mouth, now twisted in a furious facsimile of it's usually joyous countenance.
Feet propelling him forward before he wills them to, the Casns warrior is already half across the green-way before his hands think to draw the massive great-sword from it's resting place. Hefting the shimmering blade above his head the barbaric man leaps into the air, throwing himself at the foe-beast with no concern for safety or self.
At first, Beorae was uncertain about the danger this bizarre creature presented despite Themp's warning, but seeing Shark drop limply to the ground allows the gravity of the situation to fully hit her. In a reflexive moment of rage, she shouts at the creature, “ไปลงนรกคุณสัตว์น่าเกลียด!”, but she's not sure if the crazed fiend even heard her over his own roar.
As Mot charges past, Beorae takes a short few steps toward Shark and Nme'an, keeping her piercing eyes locked on the beast. Her hand shoots out as the druidess hurls a fireball at her foe.
_____________________________________
Shark's eyes flicker back to life with Nem'an's touch and the tiger quickly recognizes his master's command to stand down. Fear mixes with the adrenaline pumping through his wounded body and Shark carefully makes a side-step to make himself closer to Beorae.
The feathery bear twitches at the arrow piercing its side, and it roars at the shifty archer darting behind the tree. Preparing to give chase, the wild, violent creature does not see the highlander close in until a moment too late. The greatsword cleaves a great gash down the massive chest of the standing owl-faced bear, and a small fireball splashes against one the muscular arms. Feathers and fur are seared away, revealing burned flesh beneath. Blood streams from the wound delivered by the highlander, as the great beast lunges for Mot.
The first swipe catches the berserker in the shoulder, spinning him toward the bear-like chest and closing both claws around him in a deadly hold. The sharp beak digs into flesh as the highlander’s arms are pinned between the beast and his own muscular chest.
Nme'an moves in to assist the Mtu Mkubwa. He swings his longsword at the abomination of a creature, but it's arc is pronouncedly more awkward than normal as he has to make an extra effort to avoid hitting Mot.
for
Leaning out from behind the tree, Themp arcs his bow and looses another arrow, mindful that the big man is now entangled with the mass of fur and feathers...
...but the shot sails wide.
Continuing her slow step forward, Beorae flings her last fireball at the beast.
_____________________
Shark uses the creature's distraction to safely rise back to his feet and, seeing an opportunity, once again lashes out at the strange beast with his fangs.
Mot's hands spasm and drop his sword as the beast enfolds him in a powerful owlbear-hug. With a furious struggle the highlander works an arm free and grasps for the flail attached to his belt. Ripping it clear the Casns swings awkwardly and attempts to batter the beast with the spiked ball.
Ignoring the Urlghain’s attempts to break free, the owlbear’s sharp beak bites further and spills much and more highland blood.
“Can’t get a clear shot!” Themp calls in frustration, and an arrow flies a handsbreadth from the berserker’s writhing, bleeding body, or the muscular claw of the feathered beast.
Mot roars in pain as the beaked mouth breaks skin and sinew. The whites of his eyes almost entirely filled with blood, the highlander can see nothing except the foe wrapped up in deadly embrace. With words barely discernible as language the Casns growls out, "Mah tuurn naow." Before grasping at the feathered bear and lunging for it's neck, teeth bared in a primal fury.
Recognizing that an attack from the front would be difficult to execute, at best, Nme'an's circles around the owl headed bear only skidding to a stop one he has reached its back side. There, the knight raises his well made sword and thrusts it at the dangerous animal with all of his might.
The great owlbear roars in pain at the blade driven into its feathery back, and its wild eyes roll to the back of its head when the highlander closes his snaggle-toothed maw around the beast’s neck. The half-bird bear slackens his hold on the burly man and collapses in a heap of fur and feathers.
As the creature crumples to the ground, Beorae steps in, drawing the wand in her pocket with one hand and reaching for Shark with the other.
Glancing at the Highlander, Beorae sees that he's still in one piece, but she's not sure by how much. “Mot, are you okay?”
Finally, she turns her attention back to the owl-bear-beast on the ground, “Well, what do we do with this thing now? We can't very well set camp around here with it still alive…”
"Whoa", exclaims Themp while walking over from behind the tree, arrow still squarely aimed at the mountain of a beast crumpled on the ground. "Remind me to never let Mot bite me."
Spitting blood and at least one tooth, Mot sags a bit in his armor. "Nae, Ahm noo okay." He smiles tiredly at the Druid through gore-stained teeth. "Ah thenk Ah nead ae rest." The big highlander slumps against the prone body of the violent creature. Rough hands pet it's shoulder with no small sign of affection. "Just ae wylde beest, dooen wha wylde beests doo."
Something none to dissimilar from puppy-dog eyes takes the Casns face as he turns to the group, the effect would be endearing but for the ragged still-bleeding gashes and deep bruises nearly covering the brute of a man.
Beseechingly he implores of his friends; "Cannae wea keep him?!"
Beorae steps over to the Casns warrior, lightly putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Can we what? Mot, this thing just about killed you and Shark!” After a brief moment, the druidess continues, “You're right that this creature was just defending its territory, but what could you possibly expect to do with him?”
Taking a deep breath as the healing energies take hold, the warrior regains some of his customary swagger and good-natured bravado. "Ahm tae ride hem, Lassie!" Still limping from his wounds he begins to putter around in circles hands, one of which still grasps the flail, waving above his head in rampant gesticulation. "Ahm suure he'll bea ass loyal ass anea wee horsies! Ahn wea knoo he coould help in a fight!" He stops and points at the massive creature, "Pluse he's huuge! Beg enoof tae carry mea and other, stoof." Here the man, more accustomed to clobbering things to make them see his point, stumbles in his argument.
With a look of revelation the oafish fellow falls back on an old standby known the world over. "Aand dinnae he look soo cuute when he sleep?!" Giving his winningest smile, Mot leans over and gives the slumbering beast a big, if gentle, hug. He smiles up at the group, his face matting down the bears fur.
Roaring with laughter, Themp momentarily forgets the threat of the beast and drops his aim.
"Mot, my friend, I used to think you were slightly crazy. Boy, was I being optimistic! How the blazes do even think you're going to tame it?!"
"I am not generally one to harm nature, but on this quest it seems nature has been making an extra effort to harm us," Nme'an says, agreeing with the others. "Somehow I doubt this beast can be trained and even if it were so able I am sure we do not have the spare time."
He looks at Mot sympathetically and says, "It is dangerous to leave it behind us as we have already seen, and cruel to leave it behind us so badly wounded and in pain... Would you like to do the honors, Mtu Mkubwa, or shall I?"
Mot's hairy face scrunches up in distaste. "Naaaah, wea dinnae haev tae keel him!" He casts about clearing as if searching for a solution. "He's a toofe broote, he'll live troo this, wea'll bea fiiiine..." He says, with an uncertain lack of conviction.
Nme'an gaze hardens as he looks to the group's druid for support.
"Hakika hii ni Upumbavu wa mtu waliojeruhiwa? Hatuwezi uwezekano wa kuweka mnyama huyu karibu achilia mbali treni au kwa ajili ya miungu kutegemea juu yake... tunaweza? Hatuwezi kuwa ni kufuatilia sisi au kuwekewa katika kusubiri beind sisi ama kama sisi kusonga mbele tunaweza?" he asks.
"Surely this is the foolishness of a wounded man? We can't possibly keep this animal around let alone train it or, for heaven's sake, rely on it... can we? We cannot have it tracking us or laying in wait behind us either as we move forward can we?"