Ingryd stood stating the creature in the face no fear as she was ready to leap at the thing and fight hard. Thankfully the Great Hive Mother provided clarity. She did pick up the horn and slip it into a pouch.
When the right portal came up Ungryd smiled and lead the daplings through. The bearkun smiled she was gonna give hope to a creature, and show the children that they were not alone.
Once through with all the children and Luthael she looks to Gunnar. " We are gonna take them fown how long can you hold this portal? Or is it safer to let it die, if it just means us having to trek outta here?" she says as she then produces the jorn and hands it to Gunnar.
Taking the horn gratefully, Gunnar says, "Go ahead and take them down to the heart of the forest. I'll try to hold the portal for as long as I can so we don't end up abandoning our wagon and horses unless there is no other choice."
Gunnar continues with the mending spell, but he will take a reaction to cast Feather Fall if one of the kids starts falling.
Luthael, Ingryd and the orphans all hurry through the portal before it once again shimmers to reveal some odd, foreign place. This time it looks upon a vast open plain. Dry and desolate, the plain is similar to those of the western reaches of Midgard following the Great Mage Wars. A distant mountain spews fire and smoke into the air creating a never ending snowfall of gritty, gray ash.
Through a combination of magics and careful climbing everyone except Gunnar returns to the glade where Arianna continues to converse and comfort the nearly broken spirit. But as soon as the young piney folk slip through the portal the great treant grows still and a glimmer of hope fills is glowing eyes.
For their part, the suddenly shy and awed younglings duck behind Ingryd's large frame, each warily peeking out at the massive spirit they have only ever known as some ancient and mysterious god and protector.
The massive tree creature hard features soften as it reaches out long branching hands, open and inviting toward the three. "SEED OF MY SEED." It says the anger vanished. "YOU NEED NOT FEAR. COME FORTH SO WE MIGHT SPEAK." Although still booming, the voice is kind and gentle. The wilted and drooping leaves of the treant become more infused with life and hope. Gone is the death rattle rustling through the treant's branches, instead it is the soft rustle of late spring and renewal that fills the air as the creature moves.
"Are you really the great Taqa?" Says the youngest, stepping out from behind Ingryd. His eyes are wide, his face filled with wonder and curiosity.
"HRMMMM HMMMM. HAHAHA." Rumbles the spirit, the sound an echo of the rumbling waterfall that you finally realize it the treant's laughter. "YES LITTLE ONE. I AM NAHELEEQALETAQA."
"We...we don't have anything to offer." Says the oldest, stepping up to her sibling's side, her head is bowed reverently. Her hands tremble as she waves her sister forward.
"Everyone else is gone, so we didn't know we were supposed to come to temple." Says the final child moving to just behind her older sister.
The treant slowly shakes its head back and forth, a sadness momentarily creeping back into its features. "THERE IS NO OFFERING NEEDED, NOR DO YOU NEED FEAR BEING LATE. YOU, YOURSELVES ARE ALL THAT IS NEEDED. TOGETHER WE CAN RENEW AND REGENERATE THAT WHICH WAS CRUELLY STOLEN." The tree wraps its mighty arms around the orphans who accept the embrace. Their face quickly transforming from fear and worry to broad smiles and peacefulness.
The great spirit turns back to face each of you and bows deeply, the top most branches of it crown brushing the ground. As it rises each of you feel the warmth of summer upon your faces and smell the scent of flowers and freshly grown leaves. The momentary euphoria sends a rushing flow of energy racing through your minds and bodies. In that moment all wounds are healed and energies rejuvenated.
"YOU HAVE MY BLESSING AND THANKS." The treant says bowing once again. "MY PEOPLE SHALL LIVE ON AND THE FOREST BE RENEWED BECAUSE OF YOUR KINDNESS AND SACRIFICE. THE HEART OF THE WOOD TOUCHES MANY REALMS, IF THERE IS SOMEPLACE YOU WISH TO TRAVEL, I OFFER A BOON TO HELP YOU REACH YOUR LANDS AS QUICKLY AS I MAY."
At Taqa’s offer, Gunnar will leave the portal and approach the great tree. He smiles at the reunion and asks that the horses with their wagon be taken good care of, bowing out of respect for the heart of the forest.
Pulling out his Lamannian Oak Arcane Focus, Gunnar asks, “We seem to have an ongoing war with these ghouls—this legion attempts to spread its deadly filth far and wide and we are among the few who stand in the way. I ask your blessing on this divinely charged length of wood, that I may perhaps feel your strength with me the next time we combat these vile despoilers.”
Also, summoning Mamluk, Gunnar communicates telepathically with the furry feline, asking him if he would rather stay here and keep company with these three young ones than continue the harsh and deadly life of the adventuring dwarf.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Ingryd looks at the children and smiles. " See you are heroes. You saved the Heart of the Forest. I know because if my children showed up after all the loss and pain they would be my heroes." She hugs each one a firm motherly hug.
" Stay strong, live, enjoy life, listen to the Heart of the Tree. Keep the axes, use them only when threatened. But also train with them. Keep not onky yourself safe but the tree okay" The mother said with a smile. She finally stood tears in her eyes as she walks up to the Heart of the Tree and speaks firmly but softly.
" Take care of them. Let them be kids, but most importantly cherish them. I...I..lost my family. I do not want to see another one lost in the same way" Ingryd takes out her sacred honey and offers some to the Heart of the Forest. She didnt know why she was giving homey yo the tree but she was.
Luthael surveys the scene quietly praying to Khors for guidance.
The prophet is relieved to have rescued the Heart of the Wood but feels delayed to destroy this evil artifact which hurt so many people. He tries to balance the good that he able to do along way versus the good that is delayed by this adventures. Finally, he settles on a balance within his heart that Khors wants him here, doing this, and the timing is His will.
Arriving near the massive treant with everyone saying their good-byes, he addresses the tree in turn, "Naheleeqaletaqa, please know that Luthael Invictusol, a servant of Khors, helped release you from these evil ghoul tormentors. May His light of the sun rejuvenate you and your family."
Arianna steps up and gives the children a hug each along with a whispered blessing to each of them before hugging Naheleeqaletaqa one last time.
"I wish our meeting had been under better circumstances, Naheleeqaletaqa. I am glad that we were able to help in some small way, and your offer is generous. May I ask if you would be able to move our horses, wagon, and supplies to the same place as well? We left them back in the village."
The reinvigorated and renewed treekin nods solemnly to Luthael and dips his head again in respectful thanks and gratitude.
"You and the bright god of the sun have my thanks for my freedom and the return of these youthful kin." The treekin rumbles while holding out a long thick arm for one of the saplings to scramble up. "Even though we dwell within the sunless twilight realm, the light and friendship of Khors will ever be honored among my folk."
The children return the warm hugs of Ingryd and Arianna. When the elf speaks of the missing horses, Taqa's branches droop a little. "Alas, I cannot do what you ask at this moment." The treant says unhappily. "It is not through lack of desire, but the chaotic disruptions and death of the trees make it all but impossible for me to open a new gate. Still, it is not so far. Where do you wish these animals to be taken? With the aide of my new charges I should have them to you within a few days."
When Gunnar returns from above, the portal having finally collapsed and winked out of existence. The treant smiles as the wizard holds out the straight and worn bit of oak.
"A blessing I am happy to share." The treant says. A sapling, sitting on his wide leaf-covered shoulder watches with saucer eyes as the creature infuses the oak with a potent magic that glows with the brilliant greens and yellows of spring. When finished, the treant returns the wooden device and droops wearily. "It is done." He says, exhaustion filling his voice. "It should be most effective fighting the undying, since you say they are an enemy we have in common."
Later when Gunnar speaks to Mamluk, the feline familiar looks about the vast dimly lit woodland surrounding the glade and shakes his head. "I'd prefer to stay with you Master Wizard." The feline confirms through Gunnar's mind before proceeding to vigorously lick at something caught in its nether regions.
Finally, taking a small bit of the offered honey from Ingryd, the tree places a dollop between its lips. It's eyes brighten and a broad smile blossoms along with a trio of actual red-gold blooms that appear near the top of its leafy crown.
"A most thoughtful and welcome gift friend Ingryd. Long have I heard of the honey elixirs of your folk. Never have I tasted one before. It is better than all the tales."
"Can we try some?" A chorus of echoes erupt around Ingryd and her honey pot. "Being heroes, it is only fair that we get a bit of the honey as well."
Ingryd sniffed as she giggled and teared up. : You are that my little saplings. You saved the Heart of the Forest."
She held out the jar for the saplings to try and as they did she hugged them. " Youll do well. I hope to see you again okay. Stay safe and stay strong"
After that she looks up at the Heart of the Forest and gives ir a hug too. " Know I am happy you have them to live on. I know the pain you avoided. I still carry it. I fight to keep it from happening again, and today you helped remind me that this is what I fight for. Thank you" she pulled away and then looked to her companions.
" I am ready, as is My hammer" The bear warrior says firmly and strangely hopeful.
Gunnar bows to the great tree and says, “Thank you for your blessing, great Naheleeqaletaqa. I am no priest, but I will ask Thor to call down Lightning and Thunder on any other foes that dare try to harm you and yours. Beware that some of the ghouls escaped and may yet be lurking in your realm.”
“Perhaps now would be a good time for us all to rest and recover before we leave, and we can destroy the ghouls if they show up before we depart,” he adds.
Arianna finds herself nodding in agreement with Gunnar.
"I fear that I also need rest before we continue on," she says. "After that, we make our way to Blandezig," she asks the others.
Luthael smiles and bows to the graciousness of the treant.
The next several hours pass uneventfully. Or as uneventfully as possible with the three rambunctious and curious saplings racing around the glade or asking various questions about fighting horrible, deadly monsters, magic, Khors and his bright sun, magic, why the undying don't die, magic, life on the heroic trail, and of course, magic. Eventually all of the energy, trauma, and excitement of the previous days runs its immediate course and the trio settle in for well needed rest sheltered within the protective canopy of the treant. The following peace allows the needed quiet and time for a proper rest to commune with the gods or renew and revitalize ones arcane and physical energies.
During this quiet time, Gunnar's search of the ghouls finds little of use or interest. Dressed in nothing but ragged robes, these emaciated creatures had apparently given themselves wholly and completely over to their dark ritual.
Although a watch is set and the occasional snap of a twig, grunting snuffle, or eerie call is heard beyond the boundaries of the forest glade, nothing dares trespass into the treant's domain. All find themselves rested and refreshed come the following day. Indeed, in something of a miraculous occurrence all wake to find the cart and mules sitting at the far end of the glade. The animals are busily grazing on a patch of soft, lush shadow grass.
"Some friends were able to guide them here." The treant says as the questions begin to issue forth. "It is not so distant a journey for those who know the forest's hidden ways."
Thus reunited with the goods and gear stored in the cart, all is made ready for the next leg of the journey. Taking up a position near the edge of the glade the treant roots itself into the ground and begins to emit a deep, rumbling hum that reverberates in your bones. The single note continues uninterrupted for nearly an hour. At first little seems to happen, but then Gunnar and Arianna both feel the gathering power of the treant's ritual.
Like a gathering storm, the energy fills the glade. Then a quartet of seedlings suddenly emerge from the ground and rapidly begin to grow. The eldritch vines twist and thicken as they grow, wrapping themselves around each other to form a natural arch much like the one from the cathedral. This one is bright and green like new born spring leaves and smells of newly turned soil and ancient woods.
Finally, the tree spirit's song pauses and it turns to you all.
"The roots of Yggdrasil run through many worlds and many times. Where is it you wish to go?" Taqa asks.
"The town of Blandezig. That is where we were heading. We hope to hunt some ghouls and gnomish slavers there," Arianna says after giving the others a look.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Blandezig..." Taqa mumbles its face wrinkling into a rough furrow. "Once a pleasant, quiet village. Darkness reigns there now. Another victim of the relentless hunger of the Blood Kingdoms and the Undying Emperor."
Taqa begins once again to hum. With each new note the living gate begins to glow and the center shimmers with power. An image begins to flicker to life. Tall snow-capped mountains loom over sparse forest land that opens into a wide section of cleared, flat land. A quarry carves a deep scar into a rocky hillside. A murky red stream dribbles from the wounded hill through the outskirts of a ramshackle village. A few dozen scrawny, pitiful souls labor within the confines of the quarry. The crack of the overseers whip snapping just over their heads...most of the time.
A small series of low dams confine the murky waters of the stream into several large pools. Each one rippling with the movement of black fleshed eels that a lone farmer scoops at with a long thick net. The catch doesn't succumb to its fate easily. The sharp toothed water worm snaps and wriggles at the farmer catching the old man on the arm before he can finally club the thing to death and drop it into a wheelbarrow quarter filled with a half dozen of the long stinking fish.
Beyond the eel farm runs the remainder of the village. A few broken down homes, a battered inn, and a smithy producing mostly lengths of chain and shackles. The need for such grim items is made clear by the dozen slave carts similar to the one that so recently hosted Arianna and the other poor souls captured by the gnomes of Niemheim. A pair of the of the red capped small folk sit outside the inn drinking from mugs and tossing rotten turnips at those languishing in the cages.
Beyond the village are a half dozen canvas tents set out in an orderly fashion. The bone and coin banner of the Marrowrich Legion. Among the tents numerous ghoul legionnaires loiter about sharpening weapons, cleaning armor, gambling, or toying with those unfortunate folk selected to fill the evening cook pots.
Another tent sits in the center of the formation. Larger and constructed of a blood red canvas decorated with blackened skulls. A pair of busty robed warrior-acolytes of Marena stand at the entrance, a necklace of bones dangles about their necks.
Soon enough the treant's song grows strained and troubled. The scene pulls away so that only the rising wisps of smoke from the few village chimney's can be spotted. Here the forest seems peaceful, calm. A quiet refuge uncaring of the torment and darkness burrowed like a summer tick into the backside of the mountains.
"This is as close as I can bring you." Taqa says following the final note that stabilizes and locks the gateway into place for the moment. "The wards...and lack of living nature...within the village prevent anything closer. But what was once days away, is now only a few short hours. It is the best I can do for you."
"Be warned the gate will close once you pass. I've not the strength or connection to that land that would enable a more permanent presence. I wish you good hunting and much luck in your strike against the gray ones."
Arianna's face turns grim as she sees the suffering of the villagers under gnome, ghoul, and priestess. She looks to Taqa as he finishes his work and explains that he can bring them no closer. Her expression softens as she sees the mighty treant and wishes she could spend more time here, collecting his tales and writing down the legends of the village that he had protected for so long.
"Thank you, Naheleeqaletaqa. I pray that our paths will cross again when you have found joy and happiness once more and I have more time to listen to your tales and the legends you know," she says as a wistful grin spreads across her face. "I wish I could stay with you and the saplings for a while. It has been too long since I had the chance to learn of another people's stories."
She starts to turn, but pauses as she notices the empty quiver at her hip.
"Before we leave, may I ask for one more favor? Could you make a bundle of arrows for me? I am grateful to Ingryd for allowing me to borrow her crossbow, but I'm far more comfortable using my bow."
Bowing and preparing to go, Gunnar pauses as Arianna makes her request. He spends the intervening time considering how to best destroy the enemy given what they were able to see through the portal.
Luthael bows again to the mighty treant. While waiting for Arianna, he grips his shield and readies his gear.
The treant blinks its wide eyes at Arianna for several seconds as it contemplates the steel tipped crossbow bolts. Finally reaching a conclusive decision, the treekin's crown rustles as it nods it head.
"It will take time." The spirit begins. "I cannot work metals, but the tips will strike as true and with even more strength than you steel."
Taqa then claps its hands together grabbing the attention of the orpaned saplings busily exploring the outer rim of the glade.
"We've one last service to perform for our friends." The mighty treant rumbles to the gathered saplings. "Each of you must search the closest trees for the straightest, strongest sprouts no thicker than your small finger. Find no less than six each and bring them to me as quick as can be. The first one to return will get an extra share of the honey that good Ingryd shared with us." A game and a sweet reward at the end is enough to send even the oldest of the trio racing off in search of fitting arrow shaft wood.
Within a few minutes cries of "I got one!" or "Here's one" "or I found another!" fill the glade as the saplings gather up the needed shafts. While the search is on, the treant walks about the glade selecting a variety of thick, healthy looking indigo leaves from several trees. This is done until a pile of nearly three dozen leaves have been gathered.
"I'm done!"
"So am I!"
*Snap* "That's it for me too.
Soon the three are charging back toward the treant, bundles of long sticks sticking out like deranged porcupine quills as the bob and wobble with each racing step. It is the middle child that eventually arrives first, her lungs heaving as her hands hold out her finds for Taqa's approval.
"Ahhhhh..." Mourns the youngest who comes stumbling over last, slowed by slightly heavier load than his siblings. "But I found more." He says holding out a bundle containing an single thicker branch that holds three healthy looking limbs just on its own.
"Indeed. An excellent find. What say you get some honey for finding the most. While you sister gets some for finding the straightest and your other sister for being first."
The compromise sees to satisfy all three and eyes beam with anticipation as Taqa scoops the honey from the jar onto three wide maple sticks and passes the treat to the winners.
Delightedly sucking on their sweet treat, the three settle in and watch as Taqa sorts the shafts and runs his hands along each one straightening any slight bows or imperfections in the wood with each pass. Soon enough there are twenty wooden shafts straight as any Arianna has ever seen. Picking up the first, the treant begins to hum another tune. This is both lighter than the one used to conjure the gateway, but also filled with a strength and grim undertone as the intent of an arrow to kill is different than simple travel. As the tune continues the end of the shaft grows into a wide, barbed point and razor sharp and deadly as any smith molded metal.
The treant then grabs a leaf and the tune changes again. Becomes light, and airy. Almost like morning birdsong. As the treant carefully runs his fingers long leaf and wooden shaft, the thick dark structure of the leaf subtly changes shape and form to become an identical match to a goose feather melded perfectly to the wood as if it had grown there.
The process repeats itself eighteen times plus the two extra until a full quiver of twenty long deadly arrows rest in front of the treant.
"I hope that these will serve you well. May they strike down your enemies and any who would bring harm to the people of the great forests of the world." Taqa says passing the arrows to Arianna.
Ingrud gives put more honey and rhe. Looks about."Ill have to forage for mpre in the morning. You three be good. If I hear you of beinf naughty Ill comback and have to give you a stern lecture and maybe if bad enough a spanking okay"
She then gives the kids one last hug and smiles." Remember the Nine live you and wish you tbe best." she cries a bit as she stands and then heads towards the gate ready to fight through the barren wastes and stop the slavers and Ghouls.
Gunnar gets a faraway look in his eye and says, ”You know, Ingryd, you remind me of my own mother.”
Steel returns to his voice and he adds, ”Let’s go kill some ghouls before they can ruin anyone else’s family.”. His grip tightens on his newly-blessed hammer and he prepares to ride forward into the portal.
"Aye. Let's go." Luthael suggests.
Ingrud looks at Gunnar and laughs. "It better not be because of the hair!"
Arianna stares in wonder at the arrows, losing herself for a moment as she considers the gift she's been given.
"Thank you, Naheleeqaletaqa. I shall make good use of them," she says quietly before turning to the young saplings. She hugs and thanks each of them before doing the same with the wise and generous treant and wishing them well as their paths part. She joins the others and takes in a deep breath as they make their way through the portal.
With a last round of farewells, each of the Narg Nasty Six (who now seem to be four), step through the treant's portal and once again into the mortal realms of Midgard. The first thing noticed by all is the sudden drop in temperature. Gone is the constant comfortable climate controlled fae environment where twilight and the gentle warmth of a summer's evening reigned. Instead all instantly feel the bite of early autumn at the base of the Cloudwall Mountains. Although the sun currently shines overhead, the much closer peaks are wrapped in thick gray and white blankets of heavy cloud and a blustery, chill wind rattles the changing forest leaves as it races down the steep mountainsides and out onto the plain.
You find yourselves standing upon a low ridge among scattered pines and dry grasses. In the not-too-far distance smoke adds to the haze hanging over Blandezig like some gray gossamer death shroud. A rough road, although most would likely call it nothing more than a path or hunting trail, winds through the trees below your perch and toward the destitute village.
For the moment, nothing seems to stir except the wind and the distant rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker hammering for bugs.
Luthael inhales the crisp air and turns his face toward the sun relishing the divine warmth. Too long had he been in the shadow world away from His glorious sun.
After a minute of reverie, he adjusts his tunic for warmth and regrips his shield. "Who wants to take the lead? The prophet asks.
"Are we just walking into the village," Arianna asks, she gives Luthael an incredulous look. "Given the number of enemies here, I would think caution is in order. We are only fi-- Wait, where's Aterro?"
”Let us consider the defense we saw through the portal, then come up with a plan to divide and conquer them,” suggests Gunnar.
"I think we have a more pressing problem. There were five of us, right? I only count four: you, Luthael, Ingryd, and myself. We... We didn't leave him behind, did we," Arianna asks the others.
" I mean he is helping rhe Treant. At least thats what I thought. Old Tin man was hunting ghouls ans stray evil trees?" Ingryd said thinking that was what Aterro was doing.
" I just remeber For the Glory of Thor"
"He did," Arianna asks, then groans. "I must be more rattled than I thought. I didn't even hear or notice until now."
She takes in a deep breath and let is out in a long, soft sigh.
"Well then, if we're going to free a village, I suppose we should decide where to start. Do we find someplace to set up a camp and sneak in to get the lay of the land, as it were, or... Well I suppose no sane mercenary is going to try siding with a pack of ghouls, are they?"
”Well, we have the wagon, so we could go in pretending to be delivering slaves…but we should probably either go after the leaders first or try to divide them and deal with each group one at a time…Maybe make use of distractions to try and separate them…” suggests Gunnar.
"Pretending to be slavers sounds as risky as posing as mercenaries, though. Perhaps even more so with the gnomes." She looks at the wagon, a look of worry crossing her face.
"Do you think they'll recognize the wagon," she asks Gunnar. "They've a fair bit of magic about them. Would they have thought to mark the things in ways we can't normally see?"
"Perhaps we can go to the quarry first, and free the slaves there. Besides the gnomes, the village has legionaires and priestess of the blood goddess. We might be better burning it to the ground after clearing the bystanders." He offers his tactical advice remembering the overview the treant gave us.
"Would burning the town really help them? Isn't this their home?"
"It would force all the visiting forces to leave and allow them to rebuild unless they want to relocate."
"Besides, with these visitors, there probably aren't many innocents in the village."
"The taint is in the land I assume. Then we will have to relocate these people" Ingryd says as she looks at Arianna.
" It is devastating, but the good people alive ans able ro find a new home is better then lettinf the disease fester and grow"Ingryd says knowing the loss, but it wasnt as bad as losinf your family.
”I agree we should focus on getting the innocents to safety first, that they might not be caught in the crossfire of our combat with the ghouls. If we can disguise ourselves as a slave delivery that may give us an advantage, but most of us would probably need to hide in the wagon,” agrees Gunnar.
"We might. I can cast some illusions, but they don't last long nor are they foolproof. I fear that the gnomes will see through them if we try that route." Arianna looks towards the village once more and grimaces as she remembers the sight of the ghouls playing cruel games with their victims that would be filling their bellies. "I would love nothing more than to march down there and kill ever last black-hearted bastard we find," the normally smiling and laughing elf snarls. "I fear that we are not so powerful a foe, and we know too little about our enemies. What good will we do if we get ourselves killed?"
Arianna calms as she looks back towards Blandezig, then back to her companions. She realizes that they are not so stealthy. Even with her magics to aid them, they would likely give away their presence to everyone if they were to come with her.
"We need more information, and the only way to get it is to sneak into the village and have a look and listen," she says calmly, though her expression gives away her fear as she realizes that she is going to be alone. "I fear that I'm the best suited, since Scramsax is no longer in our company, and I am the only one that can go if we are to have any success."
She swallows as she tries not to think about what will happen to her if she is discovered and caught.
"While I go learn what I may and see what we can do about the ones doomed for the ghouls' stew pot, perhaps you can find a hidden place for a camp," she suggests as she tries to think of a good landmark they can meet up at.
Arianna points out a rock formation that juts out of the ground like a spear head and the scraggly juniper somehow growing near the top. Located closer to the village but still far enough away as to avoid any routine patrols, the thicket of forest surrounding the base of the rock should make for a fairly quiet and secure place to rendezvous when she's finished her scouting of the village.
With little reason to stay, other than the nagging whispers of her ancestors decrying such solitary adventures, the bard heads off toward the forlorn village of Blandezig.
The journey takes little over an hour. Cautiously crossing open areas, avoiding the densest thickets and open paths in equal measure, and leaving as little trace of her passing as possible, Arianna arrives at the outskirts of the village. Tucked within the battered remnants of a hedgerow no longer maintained and left to grow wild, the elf peers into the gray and dreary confines of the village. She spies the quarry, the cascading eel pens, the ghoul camp and of course, the cages containing the poor victims of whatever fiendish scheme the ghouls and gnomes have concocted amongst themselves.
Arianna takes a deep breath as she moves further back into hedgerow, getting out of sight of the village. She sings the notes of her spell of invisibility and moments later, she's invisible to most creatures. She winces as the thought runs through her mind. She has to hope that she didn't run across any of the beings that didn't fall under the "most" category.
Slipping out into the open and taking care to move as if she weren't invisible, just in case her spell's cloaking magics failed her, she moves to the ghoul's encampment to see what she can learn and if she could free those unfortunates who's lives were in the most immediate danger.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I remember those early days. Some called the oceans at the Edge of the World unforgiving, but I always just saw gamblers out of luck. Of course the best spoils always came from out beyond the high seas...it was a gold rush when a carrack actually made it back to port in Barsella. A fat purse on every corner. Elites filling their vaults with exotic jewels. Heh, had to keep chipper...the scores of lost ships sacrificed to the sea were always repaid.
What you hear when you're young tends to stick, even for a beat down alleycat with no one but rogues and butchers for company. I don't remember the first time I heard about Mnemosyne, but yeah the story always stuck. Her island was hidden out there and she wanted it kept secret, see? Some kind of jinx she made scrambled navigation...you know, for safekeeping. Security. As a kid with nothing but a street shiv to my name, the unknown spoils guarded within that goddess' hidden fortress fueled my dreams every night. So when more and more ships would return, well the only explanation was that someone had taken her...someone cracked the jinx warding the infinite sea.
Far-fetched? Well like I said, stories like that become a part of you...and really it didn't matter to me whether it was true or just another breed of churchy crap. It put a smile on my face to think about it.
I almost died once, back when the Nargy outskirts inn was a death chamber of rot. Used to carry my tools in a little false apple. Wasn't a bad little stash spot but could never fit my lodestone...and well, if you didn't know, nothin' beats lodestone for finding tripwires. Has a soft pull to it you can really feel if you practice enough. Sure enough, not finding that wire 'swhat got me. The tripwire triggered the release of some kind of sentient goo a sinister bastard kept for just such a purpose, and I was out for the count. I'd probably be proper dead were it not for a gent named Trevor the Yellow.
Now I never told you this, but that was the first time I saw her...emerging from the eyes of a crayfish out on some island at sea. Dying, that's where I imagined I was...that place I had always dreamed about. Mnemosyne's island. "Where's your prize, thief?" she had asked me there on the border of living and dead. "You were not expected to come here so empty handed." Well, you know how in dreams sometimes you know things you'd never know when awake? I knew what she meant. I was supposed to bring her something, and even had a map to find it, but the map was enciphered somehow and I couldn't get it. "You knew it once, you know it always. How could it leave you?" Anyways long story short, eventually I figured out the map and found a little rune marked slate on the beach. A runed slate just like the one Zove carried in Dalliance, but I wouldn't know that until much later. It warped me to some snowy mountain...but that was when Trevor snapped me back to reality.
Now here she was again. Not in death's dream but for all to see, the power of Eternal Memory surging through my frame. Sucked me into shadow's waters, away from my mates and the soft bed of Ingryd's backhairs. You know I always heard the black water of the Shadow Realm was foul beyond foul, but the whirlpool pipe we shot through was warm and invigorating. In an instant, I was back on that island. Coin looked at me and the goddess emerged from his eyestalks "Where's your prize, thief?" she asked as if for the first time. And again "You were not expected to come here so empty handed." Strange eh?
I always had carried this memory of future events, just like Coin had said. It wasn't an impossible logic paradox, somehow, after all.
Again I found Zove's slate, and again we warped atop that snowy mountain in the middle of a blizzard. But Trevor didn't wake me up this time. "Really? Do you just have that stupid t-shirt?" rolling her eyes as she off-handedly dissed my Perfect Pucker swag. "You're going to get cold. Consider this your first retribution. We're staging from that tower." she pointed, but my eyeballs were already frozen solid. Thawing an eternity later, the goddess was still with me...as was a rather diverse crew. I would come to know them well...
Vivan - a shapeshifting plant from a species I would later learn to be called 'morphoi', a master infiltrator and assassin. The frowny face they shot me whenever I lit a pipe of leaf is forever imprinted in my brain.
Torq - half-lion she-beast (lamia) and long time associate of Mnemosyne from before she was imprisoned. Muscle and a damn good illusionist.
Carnadine - a forever serious dhampir military leader from Morgau who would eventually betray us all. Mageslayer and horseman, but was posing as a marauder when we first met.
Trollshit - and his unforgettable pet rat Domino. Carried a stolen blade we would all come to know (though I wish I hadn't) to be called Heiður. Owed the goddess for reasons I never sussed out, but a damn good trap crafter.
Yeah, she had a job for us all right. We were busting in to a place they called 'The Thief's Cache' out in the void of Gunningagap. Place outside the universe. Place with a lot of history, born of an ancient curse. Pour another round and I'll tell you that story...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Hard for me to steal something that's a part of you.
Met a street mage once, had the nerve to cut a hole in his own hand to serve as a hidden pocket. Stuffed it flush using a little leather flap colored with whore's paint and powder thinkin' no one would notice. Heh, well some people are good at noticin'. But I'm talking somethin' different. I mean somethin' that is you. Your choices. Your theme.
Mnemosyne is the universe. How can you steal somethin' from that? Think about it, anywhere you put it, its still gonna be with its owner. Ready for the twist? Well I'm here to tell you, there's a void beyond the universe. Yeah, I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't seen it with my own golden orbs.
Northern poets call it 'Ginnungagap'. Hear out east of the Leng plateau monks call it 'Śūnyatā'. But the Cache? Simply the biggest treasure horde of all time. An infinite mansion stashed out way beyond the mechanical gnomes, space hamsters, dead gods, and talking penguins. That's where Mnemosyne had tracked her stolen memories, and that's where our crew was headin'.
I know what you're thinking, must be embarrassing for the goddess of memory to have her memories stolen, right? Eh, wasn't me. Honest. But you gotta give her props from escaping from prison, that takes a honed skill.
"Horn, horse, hound and falcon...nothing more is needed for any loose quarry. Were I warden, she would have been returned promptly." I remember Carnadine saying. It was never boasting with him, just the cool confidence of experience.
Now this Thief's Cache place is pretty wild, you're gonna want to hear this setup. Thief tales usually only make the tavern rounds if the thief gets snagged, so aint surprisin' I hadn't ever heard of this elite finger dipper. You know, pickpocket. Had a sweet trick, but unlike the street mage and his holy hand, this footpad was real tricky. A true mage. Could make things disappear straight outta hand in plain sight, and it was really gone. A spell of his own design, one that could teleport objects. Now that's dedication...way I heard it only a rare few author their own spells, let alone a sneakthief.
"You don't just write a spell like you write a letter. It takes trials and sacrifices, an unwavering commitment for what might be decades...and even then, it might not even work." as Torq the leonine illusionist told it. "Magic punishes innovation. It favors ritual, tradition."
Those wise in the crew called it 'Boney Tony's Pilfering', but I don't think a spell needs a title to work...I dunno. Anyhow The Cache is where everything he stole wound up. Get it? No gettin' caught red-handed when the evidence is whisked away outside the universe. One lifetime of thievery filled many of the mansion's chamber's with spoils. Legend has it, Boney Tony had quite a few lifetimes...and maybe one in death, if you catch my drift. Boney Tony could blink there and back again on a magical whim.
The spell outlived the original thief, and lesser mages picked it up occasionally over the centuries. Not all of em had Tony's finesse, however, and none of the next generation could get there to enjoy the loot the way Boney Tony could. Still saw a lot of use though. Powerful weapons vanished mid-combat. Unbreakable locks simply negated. Items deemed too dangerous to stay in the world dealt with by Pilfering. Thief's Cache was just out there, its infinite rooms slowly expanding with more and more scores'. Sorry for spitting, I'm salivating for some reason.
Yeah, once I got the skinny, I was all in. But none of us knew the terrors that resided there. Nor the passionate vengeance on our trail. Or the cold betrayer among us. Yep, we were made before the job even started.
The piercing screams immediately bring Arianna up short as she stalks toward the tents surrounding the start crimson bastion of cloth at the center of the legionnaire camp. Erupting from that very same temple of misery are a series of guttural chants in the dark Undercommon tongue favored among the Ghoul Imperium. To Arianna's refined ears the language is a brutal, vulgar affront to the languages all over the land. A second or third in vileness to only the void speech itself and the fiendish tongues of the Abyss.
Before the elf can approach much further, the pained screams fade and abruptly die like hope in a Zobeck dungeon. Moments later a half dozen ghouls dressed in similar casual tunic, pants, and light leathers emerge from the tent. All appear to be stained with a still damp splatter of fresh blood. Nodding to the two crimson clad women standing guard, the ghouls quickly move off to a campsite nearer Arianna.
"I still miss Lady Yebron." Sighs one of the recent worshipers. "She had a lot more pizazz with the knife. Could keep a sacrifice going long enough for you to really taste the fear. And it carried into the blood." He adds slowly running his tongue across blood stained lips.
"Pffft...that and she had a pair that could cradle a horses head in their lovely softness." Wise cracks one of the others. "That's what you really miss, eh Rats?"
"Not that Rats ever got within ten feet of the Lady's comforts." Adds another wiping blood from her chin and tunic before bucking her sword belt. "But you are right. She was better with a bit of steel."
"Hey. Sister Bev is doing fine. S...Sh..She....she's just a bit new is all." A skinny ghoul, skin a bit more gray and mottled than the others speaks up.
"Bah!" Waves Rats dismissively. "You're just defending her cause she's a blonde. Everyone knows young Mantis has got a thing for the golden haired ladies ever since we went to the pens in Fretlock."
"That's not...well, alright, yes, I like yellow hair...but that's not why I favor Bev. Yebron was just...well...just sp-spo-spooky."
The comments elicits a round of agreeing nods at the others don their own arms and armor. Once all appear to be ready, the lone female among the six nods her head and starts marching them toward the eel pens.
"How much longer we gonna be out here sarge." The one referred to as Mantis asks. "Bloodsisters or not, keeping an eye on a bunch of eels and food is getting pretty dull and this meats all stringy and worn out."
"What? You got someplace else you need to be Mantis." The ghoul woman snarls. "Not that you've a choice, but the Major says we should be done here in a day, maybe two."
"The vectors are coming along nicely" Says Rats his crimson eyes shining in the dim gray light. "Some of the first ones are ready to pop, so I doubt will be sticking around much longer."
The conversation continues into more bantering and bickering among the ghouls as they march off toward the stinky eel pens further up the village lane. As they pass one of the slave cages they taunt and poke at the handful of ragged, hopeless prisoners held near the crimson tent. The forlorn creatures inside (initial appearances have Arianna guessing they are two humans, a dwarf, and a halfling girl.
The sounds of a bone saw cutting flesh emerges from the tent. A sound the others seem to simply ignore as they move further up the valley.
Arianna feels sick to her stomach. Bile rises in her throat and she fights to swallow it without making any noise. In its place, anger and rage swell, and she has to fight down the urge to put some arrows into the ghouls. Their time will come, she promises herself. Now, she has more important matters to attend to. She needs numbers and more information. She can easily guess what the ghouls mean by vectors and she feels the urgency of the time they have. Only a day or two more.
Seven ghouls, these six and the major they spoke of, and a priestess she marks in her mind, burning their names into that fey part of her psyche. Kindhearted she may be, but she is still an elf, a being more fey than mortal, and the fey have a way of remembering those that have wronged them. Let the dwarves record their grudges in dusty tomes. She would remember these wretched beings and would relish their demise, then forget them, let them be nothing more than a footnote in the records of her travels. Let them be forgetten to time as their bones crumble to dust.
Arianna moves through the village and encampment, light on her feet and careful to not take her invisibility for granted. She needs to get back to the others and tell them what she sees here, the enemy's numbers and what's going on.
But if she can find a way to sow some discord, well, Elalune did have a way of blessing her with opportunities in her travels.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
We set out at sunrise. Wasn't a star at all but the bright-beyond-bright eyes of a massive whale-like creature, beamin' outwards like an open lantern. 'Kindori' Vivan called it. Its dead mate was the icy 'planet' we trudged along, a petrified corpse warmed just enough by the living one's body heat. Cursed to slowly orbit each other in the infinite void, their love had turned to murder and this was the cosmic penance. Boney Tony's hideout was there, the rooms of the mansion displacing the ribs of its sternum...stacked one on top of the other like spreadin' barnacles. Figured I sniffed some Effildawnan again, but the Armada was nowhere in sight and Trollshit was still ugly as hell.
Domino the lead the way by its nose. Wish I could forget that rodent. Proportional to its tiny body, it had the biggest knockers I've ever seen on a mammal. Really uncomfortable thing to see. Its loving master, Trollshit, wasn't far behind...his strange sled (a contraption of his own design) cutting silently across the ice and snow under the thousand dancing colors of the Kindori's dawn. It was up to them to snuff out a weakness in the outer walls. Didn't take long for Domino to make its way in through a pinhole crack. Torq disabled the wizard's guards and wards with a little pinch of metal and an abnormally long tongue makin' gestures. Meanwhile the sled turned out to be a bomb that blew them old mudbricks to dust and shattered icicles. Oh, we were in baby.
A sharp slap to the back of my skull, blessing of the goddess. Knew just what I was thinking. But na, on-the-house she had said. Kindness of my heart she said. Heh, I'd be leaving with less than I came in with...in more ways than one.
I had trap-duty with Carnadine a corridor branch behind. The dhampir cut down an animated harpsichord that nearly played my death note with a blast of his Balhiir...a magic-sucking creature he lorded over whose home was the edge of his mean, white blade. Further on we found a hall where Tapestries of Smotherin' were mixed with the mundane kind, and the efficiency of his slashes woulda gutted that Kindori. Yeah, seeing a pattern? Boney's Pilferin' spell could only move objects here...weren't any creatures sent out here. Come to think of it, that's what had my guard down when that angry outsider showed up.
Tony's chambers lived up to legend one room after the other with mountains of arcano-mech trinkets, exotic weapons, life-sized platinum dong-like sculptures, and the only Ammolite gemstone I ever saw (rare one, that). The corridor narrowed to a singular door. "This one. You knew it once, you knew it always." I heard the goddess say. No, I mean I remembered her sayin' maybe... Anyways her thingy was inside, and somehow I knew what it looked like. Sure enough there was no mistakin' it. The shard with jumbled letters 'Book Rentfree'. A link to a lost world outside the Eternal Memory.
Then right before all hell broke loose, someone noticed Carnadine was missin'. As was a small blood-soaked obsidian statue that was there just moments before. Turns out the Ghostknight was here for his own reasons, for the glory of Morgau. Hairs stood on end. An unidentifiable urgency in the air. A tremendous crash of electric tendrils and roaring storm, funneling in like a black squall from the North. Trollshit exploded into a burst of flesh chunks to mimic the flock of birds startled by Aterro's morning bowel cleanse.
"Heiður." she was talking to the goblin's blade like a newborn babe as Domino s+$% a brick. Didn't see Vivan in the shadows at her flank. The shapeshifter came on wearing her own face, and the twins traded rapid blows. Torq shot spells but the woman's impossible armor mirrored the energies back, amputating the lamia's hindlegs at the haunch. The morphoi was loosing quick when Thor appeared.
Yeah, that Thor. "I've interest in this one. Let it play out." he casually chatted the Keeper of Time. So I figures, well I says to myself, who's gonna stop this annihilation if not old Scrammy? Shoulda been my last mistake, steppin' into melee with that one. Saw my scalp fall down before my eyes, felt Heiður clank somethin solid buried deep in my medulla oblongata.
And I died.
Last things I remember? Hmm, the color of anger on her face...my head had changed her weapon somehow. And I swear Carnadine came back, the two of them were talkin' bout something. Finally all I could see was Vee with some man that looked creepily identical to Illarya, happily sifting blue and yellow sands into a picture of the Narg Nasty 6.
Oh, you thought I was gonna leave empty handed and empty headed from that once in a lifetime score? Heh, its me, Scramsax. Well, the big 'M' never said anything about what I stole from The Thief's Cache despite all her earlier fuss. Was a cask of twinkleberry juice for that sweet girl back in the Invictusol's hometown. Maybe she just let it slide, all things considered.
Or maybe its the reason I'm still alive.
Arianna slips through the camp leaving behind only the barest whisper of a rustled leaf or shifting bit of gravel. An invisible, wrath filled shadow eagerly seeking opportunity for mayhem and payback. Such an opportunity seems frustratingly limited until an odd smell tickles her nose. She traces the curious scent to a small tarp covered stash guarded by a bored trio of ghoulish legionnaires. Closer up the sulfur and charcoal is clear as death in a dragon's eye. A quick, sneaky peek under the tarp reveals several small casks labeled with a bright red exploding star. The smell under the tarp is much stronger and reminds her of many a midsummer celebration in Zobeck when the sky erupts with fireworks while the streets erupt in the usual celebratory mayhem.
Slipping away from the explosive stash, she notes another dozen ghouls training in the evening gray. The ringing clatter of wooden practice swords and barking instructors the same as any other military camp in western Midgard.
The creak and groan of one of the big slaver wagons quickly catches her attention as it rumbles its way past the camp. A pair of gnomes manage the gloomy transport flanked by a similar pair of fiendish guards as those who once stood watch over Arianna when she was held prisoner. The stench of filth and mournful, desolate groans from those still living within the cage are another unwelcome reminder of her own time spent under the care of the little redcapped fiends of Neimhiem. The wagon rolls past the ghoul's camp stopping only long enough to be directed up toward the old quarry and the rest of the waiting wagons.
The noise and distraction of the passing wagon drown out the soft crunch of iron boots on the barren ground.
"Come along...eh...what was your name again?" A gruff, exasperated voice grumbles from a dozen paces away.
"Wallflower, sir." Is the tired, annoyed reply.
Arianna turns in time to step well aside from a tall, black robed ghoul. His bald head and pale face is covered with a spiders web of crisscrossing scars as if his face had been shattered like a mirror and glued back together by an impatient five year old. Slightly behind the robed ghoul is a female legionnaire. Her dirty blonde hair is tied back in a pony tail, her face, once perhaps attractive until something appeared to take a large bit out of her left cheek and eye. Leaving only a partially healed twisted mass of flesh and muscle. Her arms are filled with a pair of cases and a large sack. An overstuffed backpack looms over her shoulders while her one good eye flashes with quickly buried annoyance.
"Yes, yes. Right. Come along Wallflower, we musn't dilly dally. Got too much to do. And whatever you do...don't drop those vials." A grizzly snicker. "Else you'll be part of tonight's stew. Or at least whatever scattered remains we can find."
"Right sir. Dropping the vials would be bad. You've mentioned that once or twice before."
The two march steadily along the path past the eels pens and out of the village toward the quarry.
"I wish to make sure such vital information is passed along. I don't wish another accusation of..." The black robed ghoul begins to pontificate only to be interrupted by his subordinate.
"Wanton negligence and disregard for the emperors resources." Deadpans the legionnaire. "Certainly not sir. Jitters was always a bit clumsy. It was unfair of the Major to dock your pay after he blew himself up like that."
"Indeed it was." Snorts the ghoul in agreement. "Damned unfair, and I'll be speaking with the Commandant when we get back to civilization. But for now, I must prepare for our ritual."
The conversation fades into the evening air as the pair march up toward the quarry, but it is soon replaced by harsh frightened screams coming from one of the eel pens just a few hundred feet away. Glancing up the path, Arianna spots a pair of big laughing ghouls holding dangling a peasant head first out over the wildly churning waters of the pen. Occasionally the snapping hungry jaws of an eel leap up at the squirming, flailing arms of the unfortunate man.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Gunnar, Luthael, and Ingryd each arrive at the little copse of trees beneath the rock formation a few minutes after sunset. Or at least they each believe the sun did set, for the western clouds over the mountains have stretched east and nearly the entire sky in covered in gray. A wind whips down off the mountains, cold and biting. It is anyone's guess when the rain will come.
Not knowing how much longer the scouting elf would be, it is Ingryd who suggests they take up shelter beneath the dense branches of juniper and pine just in case the rain does arrive in earnest. Given the generally barren and desolate state of things, all are quite surprised when they push through the prickly limbs to the hidden sanctuary deeper within and find the snoring form of a halfling.
A half filled, or half empty depending on one's general philosophical outlook on life, rests in the crook of the halfling's arm. A few drops of a potent, sweet smelling liquor glisten at the end of a spout located just above his lips. Dried blood coats his hair like some grizzly used cart salesman and a raw red mark of a nasty, but healing, wound marks his forehead and scalp.
Between the dim light, blood, and wound it is difficult to recognize the halfling. But the snoring. That nasal fueled roar able to drown out the tumbling falls of the Heart of the Forest is recognizable by any of the Narg Nasty Six. Bearking, Dwarf and Prophet each look between each other and the passed out halfling. They'd found Scramsax.
A note appears pinned to his chest. Gold ink in an elegant hand scrolls neatly across the supple vellum.
To the Narg Nasty Six. He's all your again. I apologize for the slight damage incurred, but then again, he really needs to learn how to duck. He should be fine...assuming you arrive at the correct time and before...well never mind about before. Too many variables, too many potential branches. You'll find out soon enough. M