”Grab the items and run! I’ll hold the tunnel!” yells Gunnar, ”We are out of time!”
Gunnar continues his arcane reinforcement of the tunnel, extending his Mending spell and reinforcing it with his Arcane Shield. He intends to hold for as long as he can and then race out behind the others once they go past.
Ingryd turns back to look.
"We need to go, where's Raseri?" the bearkin asks as she is looking to make sure all leave together.
Raseri grins wolfishly as she snares the gem with her free hand when it thumps into her breastplate. Now there is the matter of her survival. She swims up towards the surface and the shore.
While the druidess dodges her falling rocks, some of the collapsing cavern lands on Luthael's shoulders. He grimaces in pain as the burden he bears for his divine patron. The prophet's translucent heavenly host swirling around him on the shore trying to attack in melee.
Focusing on the gem, he grins when the Thorsdottir secures it. Hope she has enough breath to put it back into that idol of a god's prison. So, he focuses on the druidess threat. He could release another Sunbolt, but she looks like that she can take it. The prophet goes for the win.
The Khorsman heads into the water enough to get within 60 feet of the druidess and calls to his divine patron. "Khors! Send this Carnite away from Midgard for a minute, so her tomb can be built!"
Scram performed one last ally-oop of the artifacts, at the same time snapping her Lootsack of Thievery open. A single, forgotten rug-cat turd covered in lint from months ago flicked free and stuck right onto Jade Spear's edge as it tumbled down along with the armed fish and other priceless artifacts into the sack's open mouth.
Tossing the heavy load over her shoulder, the thief zipped towards the exit...
Beneath the surface, Raseri snatches the gemstone from the pushing jet of water. Instantly the gem releases a brilliant flare of light and heat that boils the surrounding water and flesh.
"Spawn of the betrayer!" Roars the fallen god's voice within the priestesses head. "Putrid offspring of the Upstart! Feel the pain I have suffered. Taste a minuscule amount of what I shall unleash upon your patron and his pets." Unlike so many false statements of a typical maniacal wizard or hell-spawned demon, the word and power of a god tends to hold true. Even for fallen gods. Pain lances up and down Raseri's body. Her form twitches, twists and writhes as muscles involuntarily spasm. A mouth opens and unleashes a drowning scream of bubbles into the churning water even as her eyes bulge outward.
Recovering from the rock blow, the druidess circles around to recover the gem while Raseri is distracted by her god's minor lash of vengeance. She begins the motions to once again draw the stone to her only to disappear.
*POP*WHOOSH*
The prophet of Khors looks on as the water slams together filling the void where the shapeshifter once swam. A momentary reprieve, but a few extra moments are all that are needed. Assuming the priestess survives her encounter with the ancient god. Luthael sees Raseri grab the stone and then her hurried swim back to shore becomes a macabre writhing dance of doom as the gemstone flares to life illuminating the growing destruction and collapsing stone of the cavern.
Scramsax begins dropping artifacts into her bag, but the fish has other ideas. Armed, temporarily free, sporting a strong desire not to be filleted and fried, and with the water now lapping at the halfling's knees, the river trout puts the halfling in her own personal Sushi-yashi Maru. It wriggles free just at the electrified sword begins its downward plunge. Leaving the halfling to choose between dinner or the loss of a foot to the crackling sword as it gleefully adjusts its trajectory to take the most toes possible.
Come back here you stinking fish and fight like spear! Hollers the spear before its voice is suddenly muffled upon the smelly, disgusting remnants of one of the sacks previous occupants.
Good luck Mister Fish. Live long and prosper.
Haha! Let's see how well you thieve with half a foot thief. Shouts the sword.
Oh look. The cavern is collapsing. We could all be buried for eons. What a surprise. Mutters the void hammer with a complete lack of emotion or surprise of any kind.
Near the exit, Gunnar holds the line while Ingryd sees the sudden brilliant flare of crimson light erupt in the lake. There the bearkin spots Raseri's twisting form.
Scram was about to start a little game of 'Eeenie Meenie' but suddenly Coin flapped forth, attempting to violently slaughter the fish with its diamond studded, gold plated owl talons.
With all the artifacts secure, and the fish's fate left with Coin or vice versa, the thief absconded up the tunnel...
As Raseri is wracked with pain and feels her flesh burning, one single thought burns bright in her mind even as she reflexively tries to scream out while still underwater.
Don't. Let. Go.
Khors banished the druidess just in time. He dives into the churning water looking for the chimera statue where the gem needed to go. His god ordered him! "Raseri, the gem needs to be put into the statue.!" The prophet's translucent heavenly host swirling around him on the shore trying to attack in melee.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Scramsax slips aside at the last moment catching the blade in the sack, but the fish dinner makes one final flip into the water and dives fast for the cold depths of the lake. On the way down to the relative safety beneath the thick ledge near the lake bottom, the fat, dagger-armed trout finds itself dodging falling stones, writhing priestesses, and glowing prophets. As it skims past the mass of the giant octopus still bleeding out into the lake, it can't help but feel concerned about the sudden drop in living conditions in the area. Something should be done. Was the singular thought in its fish mind as it whisked by a pair of goblin bodies slowly sinking toward the lake bottom.
Meanwhile, the halfling sloshes through the rapidly rising waters, sack weighed down by multiple heavy weapons and one rather elegant armband. She pauses a moment to watch with Gunnar and Ingryd as Luthael suddenly dives into the lake, the glowing cloud of his knightly spirits still swirling around his frame. Swimming into the depths, the holy man of Khors finds the statue and tries to signal to Raseri only to find the priestess squirming like a work baited on a hook as she wrestles to keep hold of the cursed gem.
Inside her mind the ancient, dethroned God of War suddenly shifts directions.
"You have felt a measure of my pain." Rumbles the voice before it suddenly turns sickly sweet like blood ripening on a battlefield. "More I can offer. Power. Riches. Glory. All can be yours. Let us join together and I shall give you a thousand times more than any other mortal has ever dreamed." The ancient one whispers. The promises sifting into Raseri's mind like a rat slowly eating a block of cheese.
Overhead, a massive groan erupts from the cavern's ceiling. Sharp thunderous cracks rumble in every direction. Massive chunks of stone tumble into the middle and far side of the chamber. Entire slabs of thick rock, some as big as a village temple slam into the earth and lake. The sound is deafening as stone crashes and water floods afterward instantly bringing the depth of the lake up to Ingryd's knees as it start to drain into the tunnel.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Raseri stops struggling as Carn worms his way deeper into her mind, seeking to take control of the priestess and convert her to his will. She hangs there motionless for an eternal sliver of time as an unseen battle wages in her mind. A mere mortal against a godling, even one so reduced as this should be a forgone conclusion, should it not?
The Lady of Storms, however, is no mere mortal.
The rat chews what it thinks is the last barrier, but as it falls into the void, it realizes too late that it has made a grave error. It has found not the center of Raseri's mind, the core of her being, but a memory that spans centuries. Carn finds that Raseri is no stranger to pain, far from it, as he experiences each of her lifetimes of misery and torture only to go under the knife and die again and again.
The moment ends as Raseri opens her eyes and the crackle of divine power as she reasserts her will joins the thunder of the coming collapse above. She wastes no time in finding Luthael and swimming for the statue he points to. She reaches it and replaces the gem in the empty socket before swimming back towards the priest, but even as she does so, she suspects that her luck may have finally run out. She has too little air, too little strength, and too little time to make good her escape. Still, Thor demands not success but that you struggle, that you fight and claw and rip and tear until the bitter end. Carn may have doomed her to share his tomb, but she will not just roll over and die for him.
Scram glanced over at Darrel as the entire cavern collapsed and one of her best friends died "Not shabby, as resting spots go. A little too much eternal war god and avian-aquatic psychos, but the bed looks comfy enough. Kind of a damp smell, isn't it. Still, I'm not too big to admit I've misjudged you. Indeed you're earning your keep, fox." offering a final thumbsup with zero sarcasm at all.
Gunnar continues to work his Mending magic, using his arcane skill and magical prowess to slow the mountain from reclaiming the escape tunnel. With time running out, he works his way towards the exit, holding the path open as best he can as he moves.
"Run past me! I will hold the tunnel for as long as I can!" he yells as his friends seem to be still doing...things...in the collapsing cavern.
Ingryd looks at Gunnar as she holds it up physically and then asks."You got this and I grab them?"
”I’ve got the tunnel, Ingryd, do what you need to do,” calls out Gunnar, using his magic and stoneworking skill to keep the path open for he and his friends, just barely…
Ingryd will rush out ans grab rhe others and haul them back as fast as she can.
With a translucent heavenly host swirling around trying to attack in melee, Luthael finds the chimera statue and swim/pushes it toward Raseri, actually toward the crimson light. Instead of waiting for the gem to be put within the statue, he attempts to put the statue on the gem. Then, when the gem is put back, he would assist Raseri and Scramsax toward the exit. And leave the gem-socketed statue within the cavern.
Luthael realizes the ancient submerged statue is much bigger than he originally believed, the large stone bull head being attached to a stone body and base partially buried in the muddy lake bottom likely weighs well over a thousand pounds. Even the Sun Prophet's heavenly host of protectors scoff at the idea of his mortal frame moving the stone beast. Yet, his light and guidance provide the perfect beacon as the storm priestess momentarily conquers the ancient god's will be just long enough to regain control of her body, swim down, and slam the gemstone into place.
NOOOO..... Carn bellows within the confines of Raseri's mind before being cut off short as whatever ancient curse the rest of the pantheon placed upon the fallen god is once again active.
Her lungs burning, Raseri's eyes turn to Luthael in both satisfaction and panic as the desire and need for air is now quite overwhelming. They both start to swim toward the surface of the lake, now several feet higher than it was only moments earlier. But the priestess no longer has the strength or the air left in her lungs to make it. As her eyes close she feels herself sinking back down into the watery depths. Sinking into the cold wet embrace of oblivion. Only at the last moment of consciousness does does she feel some else tug at her besides the black emptiness of the void.
The ceiling of the massive cavern enters its final death throws. A god's curse powered by weakened earth and several million gallons of flowing water will not be denied. The groans and grinding of collapsing stone echo even within the depths of the lake where Luthael's light illuminates Ingryd as she snatches sinking Raseri.
To the steadfast Gunnar, the tiny globe of light seems terribly small against the darkness of collapsing stone, rushing water and debris. It seems terribly slow against the seemingly slow motion cataclysm. Yet, it never waivers or stops in its rush to reach the tunnel and escape. With hope still alive, the dwarf maintains his vigil at the tunnel entrance even as the rising water begins to flow past his knees and into the exit.
Ingryd dives in seeking to grab Raseri. when she does she grabs the unconscious cleric and begins to swim back towards the entry.
Luthael sees Raseri slam the gem into the statue and then starts to blackout due to lack of air. The prophet pulls her close and gives her a long kiss of air. His divine patron's orders have been filled. This would be a decent death. She would survive this test.
He swims back to the surface following his lovable bearkin who carries the Thorsdottir, but the prophet is hit by falling debris along the way.
With everything he has, the prophet reaches the tunnel and heals all his friends.
As she slams the gem home, she finds her consciousness fading fast. She doesn't want to die, but at least if she is to die here, she would die having prevented an even greater calamity than the one they were trying to stop. Even if said calamity would have happened because of a certain greedy halfling. Though a part of her panics, railing against the coming night, she feels at peace with that. She doesn't feel Ingryd grabbing her nor does she Luthael swimming towards her.
Her eyes pop open as she feels the sun prophet's lips press hard into hers. Air fills her lungs, giving her another chance to live. She feels the healing warmth of Luthael's prayer wash over her as her hand tightens on the hilt of her greatsword. She snatches Luthael's clothing, determined not to let the man who'd just saved her die in her place as she begins kicking as hard as she can to help take some of the load from Ingryd. As she does so, she says a prayer for Luthael, hoping to heal some of his wounds.
Gunnar calls out, ”FOLLOW MY VOICE! YOU HAVE MERE MOMENTS LEFT BEFORE THIS PLACE FALLS DOWN AROUND OUR EARS!”
He keeps up his slow progression towards the exit and his magical reinforcement of the crumbling rock.
"I KNOW" Ingryd says as she growls and taps into that inner rage, and roars as she hoists those around her and then bolts with all speed towards the dwarf.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Footsteps clamored in the dark. Little smoochy whispers forewarned of impending cooties. Scram sat in brief meditation there at the hidey hole beyond the wood stash, reflecting on the curse of kleptomania and the whims of dark gods.
Would Invictusol really make it out alive? Could the thief have stopped Ingryd from barreling back into the damp? Was whatever happened ultimately the thief's own fault, in the final analysis?
~Places like this are forgotten by most. Their stagnant equilibrium abhorrent to memory, for what does not change needs no one to elucidate.~ she heard herself or someone else say. Clearly there were gods who wished for eternal constants, while some relied on the story-teller's memory to make sense of change.
Either way it was a good take. Yes, the priest's artifacts in the end turned out to be annoying b*tches. At least Void Hammer was cool, they could all take a page from his book. The armlet that shackled the chimeran sentinel...what metaphysical bulwarks would it impel upon its wearer? Still the thief regretted leaving the obsidian axe behind, and the sour gemstone itself.
There was unfinished business there beneath the fox's favorite rest. But such would be the schemes of the next generation of thieves and plunderers, who might meet Scramsax the Jewel Thief in a dark tavern one night to hear the tale.
The earth trembles as the cavern beyond the little dark tunnel finally collapses with a final catastrophic sigh of destruction. Briefly pondering the potential ramifications of her actions the halfling drags her overstuffed sack now featuring several pointed and pokey bits into the cabin. Noticing the foxkin gone, she steps out of the rickety shelter into the open air. Before she can mutter traitorous trickster, she spots Darrel staring slack jawed and wide eyed at the dripping, snot slick cliff face where only a few minutes ago one of the largest waterfalls in all northern Midgard once flowed. Now minor trickles of water drip from slowly draining pools caught in the rocks. Drip and drain until they freeze in the still howling and bitter cold wind.
Turning at the quiet approach of the halfling, the foxkin, eyes goggling coughs once, twice, splutters incoherently and then simply runs a hand across his face and utters quietly. "What have you done?"
The final collapse of the cavern and burial of Carn's single remaining temple upon Midgard occurs not with a great crack and boom of breaking stone, but with a final almost quiet sinking of the entire riverbottom and surrounding area. It is a cataclysm unheard of within the long, long memories of the ancient trees of the Margreve. Outside of the danger and death of fire, no such event has occurred that resulted in the deaths of so many of the forests mighty children. Deaths that are noted by those puny mortals struggling to escape the devastation as many of the tall, ancient trees tumble into the cavern from above roots, tops, and all. They break upon jagged rocks or are crushed like nuts beneath the hammer by falling stone and eventually all are drowned along with the many denizens who called the earth and river above home. Squirrels, rabbits, foxes, dryads, gnomes, a wandering family of goblins, a bear hibernating in a once warm winters cave. All are sacrificed to Carn's burial beneath the stone and water.
With a singular resolve Ingryd the Mighty, soul and heart broken bearkin, hauls her two battered companions from the depths of the doomed lake and into the narrow confines of the tunnel. Coughing and spluttering as the tunnel itself fills with water the four companions crawl, scrape, and finally pull themselves free of narrow passage. Splashing through their flooded camp and floating belongings, the four quickly gather what they can before it can be washed into the draining remnants of the once mighty river. Wet, cold, caught out in a freezing, icy wind and sleet, the four soon join the philosophical Scramsax and the obviously bewildered and confused Darrell.
By the time Raseri follows Gunnar, Ingryd, and Luthael out of the tunnel, she is wet, freezing, and very confused. On the one hand, she's miserable because of the cold and the water in her boots. On the other hand, there's a spark of fury rekindling into a roaring blaze as she spies Scramsax. On the third hand, there was that kiss Luthael gave her. Certainly it was to spare her life, but romance is a rather alien concept when it comes to thinking about herself. Then, there is the giddy euphoria of actually having survived that fiasco.
Perhaps, then, it is unsurprising that the confused ball of emotions that is the Thorsdottir's mind latches onto the one emotion that could grant her some catharsis.
"Damned fool of a thief," she growls. "Is coin all you ever think about in that hollowed husk you call a mind?"
Scrams eyes narrow as she looks off into the distance, a gaze that transcended the present, struggling to find a bright future "...I have seen a thousand deaths. Another hundred thousand that feed the gaping maw of the One True Militant, Carn." Bending a knee, the thief pleaded "...was not my will that sought the gem, but that of another who lorded over my actions and thoughts. I was..." after a very dramatic pause "...ensorcelled."
It was a half-lie.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Stumbling out of the muck just ahead of the cave-in, Gunnar asks, ”Scramsax, can you ever go scouting without everything going sideways?”
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Raseri can't tell if Scramsax is lying, not for sure. She doesn't buy the halfling's explanation, but neither is she willing to press it while standing out in the worsening weather while soaking wet.
"Well, to keep you from getting ensorcelled again, I think we should tie you up and keep you on a short leash from now on."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
" I just wish she'd find food while causes so much trouble." Ingryd says with a laugh as she looks at the other taking back up her hammer and letting it alight with flames
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Luthael falls out of the tunnel and stares at the sky for awhile as his companions react to surviving. He wonders if he enjoyed the kiss of life with Raseri. He had never had any time for romance spending his time in prayer and on missions. He wonders if Khors put her in his path. The prophet stands up straightening his tunic and brushing the mud from his gear.
"Raseri, I must profusely thank you on behalf of my Sun Lord. Khors was personally clear that if we had not returned that gem to its statue, Carn would have, and I quote set the whole blasted multiverse aflame." He nods and tiredly smiles at the Thorsdottir seeing if her reaction is any different than before the kiss.
Then, he looks directly at Scramsax and says, "And, Khors knows you specifically Scramsax chastising me for not, and I quote keeping a better handle on that blasted halfling. So, my dear, please allow me to keep a better handle on you. Let's discuss any potential great capers in the future, shall we?"
And then he looks to Gunner and Ingryd, "and, you two. Thank you for saving Midgard again. Let's take a break for a bit before tackling that hag."
Raseri turn as Luthael addresses her. Seeing his smile, she blushes despite the cold.
"I--I should be giving thanks to you," she says meekly as her mind replays the kiss of life.
A chill gust reminds her of her current perdicament.
"W-we n-n-n-need to find someplace to warm up, first," she says as she starts to shiver.
Ingryd looks over and giggles. She then smiles.
"I only do what I must to save others." The bearkin says as she goes over to Scram.
" Next time wait to touch the shiney gem. Though always steal the food and beer!" She says to her friend, she comes over to hold the hammer head closer to the those who went in the drink.
"Hey Gunnar you got any fuel for me to light"
”I’ll go gather some sticks and see if we can use any of the current structures as shelter. Then I can see if anything you grabbed might be useful in our upcoming struggles,” says Gunnar.
He goes to gather firewood, planning to Identify the magic items Scramsax grabbed when he returns to camp. If needed after a short rest, Gunnar can cast Wall of Stone to upgrade/create a shelter for them.
"Ensorcelled!" The foxkin shouts incredulously. Panic clear on his face as he watches the shoreline of the river slowly start to recede. "You've somehow blocked the river. Grandfather Tears no longer flows!" His anguished shout echoes across the nearly silent landscape. "How does one ensorcelled halfling block and entire river. Are you still ensorcelled? Then undo this damage before the forest takes its revenge."
At that thought, his eyes flash to the wind blow limbs of the nearby tree line. He actually takes a step backward, his boot sinking in mud that hasn't felt the touch of air for centuries. The foxkin's eyes are wide, his ears shivering with fear. "It may already be too late. Can't you feel it?"
Suddenly the roof of the shack collapses as the flow of water from the tunnel washes away the building's rickety wall. Broken boards start to drift down stream as the flow from the tunnel strengthens. But even as the stream from the cliff grows in strength, the flow of water through the narrow opening is nothing compared to this massive cascade that once spilled over the cliff. And only a few minutes later there are a loud series of thuds and thumps from far up the tunnel. Shortly afterward, a broken skull washes from the tunnel and tumbles down the shallow stream bed. Then the flow of water slows to little more than a trickle. A trickle that quickly starts to freeze over in the icy chill of the wind and weather.
Gunnar, starts toward the edge of the forest to find firewood. Darrel quickly steps in front of the dwarf shaking his head. "Don't go into the forest." He says, his voice haunted. "Surely if you do, you'll not come back out."
And the wizard suddenly senses the potential truth of the foxkin's words. For he can feel the angry power rippling through the trees like some twisting jagged crackling thunderbolt of Thor. There is a darkness beneath the eaves that did not exist before arriving at this place. Indeed, that is not the only sudden anomaly. The dwarf's keen eyed gaze takes in the nearby forest floor. Usually it is littered with fallen branches pinecones, needles and all the other debris. But now as he looks beneath several ancient trees, the dwarf spots not a single stick, fallen branch, or other scrap of firewood. And unusual and frustrating occurrence on a normal days, a deadly and foreboding situation with the freezing weather and the sun slipping behind the western mountains.
Stopping in fresh alarm, Gunnar says, ”We need to get up there and assess the situation—see where the flow of water has redirected.”. He looks for a pathway upwards.
Raseri begins casting spells to help all of them dry off. Though the effort takes several minutes and it isn't as good as wrapping up by a fire, at least it keeps the cold from sapping their strength.
Once they aren't in as much danger of freezing to death, she turns to Gunnar.
"We could always ask the forest to cast judgement on the one who caused this mess, whether or not she was in control of her actions."
Scram shrugged, deadpanning "You heard the fish, the place was going downhill way before we even got there."
"Was this while I was trying to get that gem back where you plucked it from?"
"You know, you too could learn a lot from Void Hammer. It's never as bad as you think. So the forest got a little blemish. Plants grow, Raseri. Isn't this all the Ice Hyena's dominion, anyways? When Thor fought the Coronation Day War you think he gave a sh*t about steppin' on Ragnarok's daisies?"
Hearing Gunnar, Scram started to put on her ice climbing gear...until Coin flopped out of her vest pocket and took to the skies.
"The water slowed to a trickle. Gunnar, can't we rest here for a few hours?" The prophet whined a bit.
”We need to know what is going on with the course of the water. If we act quickly and the new watercourse is not set, perhaps we can change it back. The longer we wait, the more likely the change becomes permanent,” says Gunnar, though he, too, is tired from their latest ordeal.
Trusting his friend, Lutheal replies, ”alright then, lead the way. “
”Let us hope it is merely a new lake filling above and the falls into the river will resume once the lake fills. Still, whatever it is, we should do what we can to satisfy the forest—though I am not willing to sacrifice any of us,” he says, not willing to abandon Scramsax regardless of their current misadventure.
The narrow staircase and switchback path up the cliff is even more treacherous and difficult to navigate following recent events. The various tremors and continuing harsh winter weather make for a slow exhausting climb. But a combination of determination, stubbornness, and simple curiosity for what changes have been wrought push everyone onward and upward.
Eventually the summit is reached and once again Darrel is left stunned as breathless as he gazes upon a changed landscape. As each of the Narg Nasty Six finally pull themselves up the last narrow set of ice coated rough cut stone stairs, they too see the growing enormity of what has happened from this newly reached vantage point.
The path continues north at a slight downward slope for another hundred paces through dense shrubs and snow covered ground. It then disappears. Disappears down into a vast sinkhole nearly a mile long and half that wide. The sides of the collapse are a jagged scar of open dirt and rock covered with swathes of fallen, broken trees and earth slowly being covered by the falling snow. More than a few trees cling to the top edge of the earth wound, their tall forms tilting at awkward angles. Even in these few moments of initial observation one of the unlucky giants, a tall, ice coated fir can no longer hang on. In a crackle of rending earth and snapping branches, the tree topples into the pit landing with a mighty splash into the water below.
Cautiously approaching the unstable edge of the landslide into the abyss, all can see the slowly growing lake. To the north, the great river now flows into the growing lake. Already it is nearly a third full. A depth of three hundred feet or more is Gunnar's best calculated guess. The surface of this newborn expanse is covered in a thick layer of debris.
To the immediate west, the rock formation upon which the small party stands, drops down into the former riverbed where only hours ago water cascaded into the valley to the south. Now only a freezing pool of shallow water remains nearest the southern edge slowly dripping and draining away. Perhaps, eventually it will be joined with the growing lake but for now the collapse clearly severed the entire riverbed.
Looking back to the south, the loss of flow is already becoming quite obvious. Where only a day ago water swept along peacefully, now vast tracts of mud and frozen river grass cover a path of land dotted by large and small ponds of water where fish and all manner of other water creatures congregate in startled confusion and fear.
”I am not sure the original riverbed will be reestablished. See those low spots? Once the lake fills it may make an entirely new course,” says Gunnar.
He looks for areas of stone he might be able to adjust with his tools that might make a path for the water to return to its normal course before it wears a new path away.
The halfling gazed out over another altered landscape, swallowing the last of her bluster as the wizard silently calculated the extent of the inverse-mound. A fresh stalk on the plains, a new lake in the forest. Scram had once again wadded up the sacred tenants of druidic law and thrown them into the trash can. Here in the wilds there was no fat pocket to pick or second-story apartment to burgle...the thief could only disable the mechanism of balance standing a last defense against the Realm of Ice.
The deep lake would take longer to freeze than a shallow river, whatever use that might be. Natural boundaries had been rearranged, new marches might be possible for larger forces. Traps were bursting with freshwater feasts...assuming Ingryd could get there before those duplicating hunger-spirits returned.
There was only the slightest tingle of unidentified anxiety within Scramsax the Amber Heart Prisoner. A dryad's tear rolled from her third eye quickly tasting the cold death of the ancient fir.
Ingryd will grab some fish and water. Using some rocks and a pot she'll cook.
"Gunnar's' right' But these fish are prime to take. I figured one each. The forest is mad at us already. Which is strange you'd think such an awesome and Amazing wood, would have the patience and wisdom of such. Unfortunately it seems to not be the case. Seems the wood still acts like a petulant child and forgets to see the bigger picture." She says using her hammer to heat the stones.
"Get some moss to dry and we can use it to burn."