Small Beginnings - Final Update 6/18/04, ITEOTWAWKI, AIFF!

[Enkhidu]

And a bit more...

SPOILERS BEGIN BELOW


Interlude...


Athena spread her soft wings and floated out from the wooded settlement. The air was thin and sweet, much better than the thick heavy air of the stone dwelling than the owl and her bonded one used to nest in. The world shrank as Athena beat her wings against the warm updraft, gaining much needed height to carry out the bonded ones request. A mouse distracted the white owl for just a moment as it darted out from a fallen log beneath the green canopy of trees. Athena dipped her wings and banked toward her prey, but stopped short of diving into the trees as her keen eyes detected movement in the thickets that now shrouded the mouse in shadows.

The owl landed softly on an overhanging branch and looked carefully at the new growth that crowded the forest floor. Her natural instinct pulled at her from deep within her stomach, but the owl had grown accustomed to pushing them aside and imitating the inquisitive nature and patience of her soul friend. The bonded friend had needed a high view of the forest looking for dark ones and ground holes, but not the small ones that prey hid in. Once again spreading her feathers Athena leapt back onto the soft winds to complete her mission so that she may pay more attention to her growing hunger.

The ground spread quickly beneath her white wings and the forest was soon left behind. The vast plains stretched out below her but instead of the short grass that normally flourished on the ice covered ground, there was instead more of that strange bramble that Athena had seen in the wood. She circled for a moment puzzling over this odd phenomenon and finally coasted down for a closer search. The vines were much thicker out here and the thorns seemed to be seeping a dark liquid. The great owl's keen eyes also saw several animals that seemed trapped in the thorny underbrush, thrashing and kicking to escape but only succeeding in deeper cuts and further strangulation. Soon only carcasses littered the area and no movement was seen beneath the thick bramble either.

Athena's wings began to tire but a strange tingling told her it would be unwise to perch anywhere near the growing vines. Twisting her head her eyes caught sight of a large post protruding up from the ground and she quickly changed her angle to float towards it. Her talons dug deep into the woods and she opened her wings full to balance on the small beam. When she finally rested her full weight onto the perch it suddenly shifted throwing the owl back into the air. Athena watched as cracks emerged beneath the brambles surrounding the post and they suddenly tumbled into a great rift that now spanned directly beneath the bird.

Dust pushed up from the great rift as the perplexed owl once again landed on the wooden post which was now pointing out over the gorge instead of toward the sun. As the dust cleared Athena steadied her gaze down into the darkness of the rift. A huge stone nest, like the bonded one had stayed in while in the stone settlement, was nestled into the unsettled ground deep within the hole. Its top was covered with grass, but the stone walls of the nest supporting it were bare save for a winding wooden staircase that enclosed them.

Athena rested her wings for a few moments more, and then dropped from her perch and unfolded her wings, angling back the way she had come.

The bonded one would be pleased.

 

[Enkhidu]

And now, some of the speculation gets laid to rest...

I've seen where a number of posters really like the "leper." With that being the case, I certainly hope you like this post.

I also want to say thanks for sticking with us through all this character development. We probably could have just given stat blocks for everyone, but we really wanted to fold in as much exposition as possible within the confines of the story itself, before resorting to gamespeak.

That being said, if you would like, we do have those stat blocks. Now that you've got a better idea of who's who, we figure you might want a peek at them.

By the way, most posts from here on out contain one or more spoilers about the Sunless Citadel. I'll let you know when we wrap it up.

For now - as always - enjoy!


*****

Pack’s backside was sore. Butter, his pony, seemed hells bent on breaking him in two, starting with his tailbone, and with every bounce Pack swore he would never ride again. Soon he began to feel every jolt and misstep, as he fought a losing battle with the headstrong pony. He looked over at Aurora, who rode alongside, and saw her wince as her horse picked up it’s pace, jarring her so that her thick red hair bobbed in the light wind. At least he wasn’t the only one due to have a sore rump come evening.

It had been an uneventful trip so far. They had trudged up to the Hillshire – the estate run by Theo – and the old priest’s nephew had been waiting with horses for each of them. The animals were already saddled and packed with provisions. After a quick goodbye, they started them on their way, Ander in the lead.

At Lizon’s request, Ander led the group south and then west, checking on first the Trappers and then the Skinners, and warning both families of the dangers that faced Icemist. Pack had spoken with the first of them while Ander scouted the area: the Trappers were unlikely to take heed of anything the olive skinned woodsman told them. It was well known that they despised him violently; or rather they would have been violent if they had ever caught him alone and outnumbered. The Skinners, however, welcomed the woodsman the same as most people in the town did, with a cold indifference.

After warning both households, and receiving a warning in return – old man Skinner had said that the brambles and thickets had grown wild and out of control this past season and horses might have a hard time getting through them – the volunteers cantered northward, into the Forest Gap. They paused long enough for Ander to stop by a small cabin at the edge of the wood. Four years ago, Pack had helped Worm and Ander raise that building, and it was beginning to look worse for wear. One day, before festival, Pack mused, I’ll have to see about helping him with some repairs, especially if he’s got any more of that wine stashed away. I wonder…

Pack’s train of thought was cut short by the bandage wrapped beggar coming out of Ander’s cottage and moving out of site around the side of the building. The halfling glanced at the others: Theo seemed unperturbed, as if he had half expected to see the leper, while Aurora blanched at the sight of Ander’s guest. Ander followed him out of the door, a large pack over one shoulder. “More food for the road” he said, and strapped it the saddle of his horse. “We’ll need it to feed the extra mouth.”

Pack glanced at Aurora, who shrugged her shoulders and looked perplexed. Then Butter tossed her head and began to whicker nervously; Pack grabbed the pony’s reins and held on as his mount danced in place, quaking in fear. Ander rushed over and laid a hand on her head, leaning in to whisper to her, and she calmed. As he did, the wrapped beggar rounded the corner; the pony became skittish again, until the dark woodsman renewed his efforts and calmed the animal with soothing words and touches. As the leper walked closer and mingled among the horses, each became agitated until the young woodsman calmed them the same way he had Butter. The leper walked straight up to Ander’s horse, and began stroking its side, and Pack could see that he had dealt with a horse’s fear before.

Pack studied the beggar. Normally, the wrapped figure seemed about ready to fall apart, tightly bandaged hands quaking with weakness as they held an almost empty coin cup. But now those hands, though still bound in dingy cloth, moved with the grace and surety that Pack expected out of the figure that vaulted to the roof of the Shimmering Sword like a cat jumps to a tabletop. He looked more closely, and noticed that a fold of his voluminous robes had slipped down his arm. Before that fold fell back into place, Pack caught a glimpse of thick dark hair, almost like fur.

“This is Ashrem,” Ander said to no one in particular. “He’ll be riding with us.” With that, the beggar vaulted onto the woodsman’s horse and began settling himself in the saddle. “But we’ve got to get moving if we want to make the Break by nightfall. Let’s move.”

“Please hold a moment, son,” rumbled Theo. “Don’t you think these two have a right to know, now, before they ride with him?”

Ander regarded the old campaigner for a long moment, and seemed to deflate. He glanced at the beggar and nodded, weakly at first, and then fully. Wordlessly, the beggar pulled back his deep hood and slowly pulled away thick bandages that completely covered his deformed visage.

Pack heard Aurora gasp as the wrappings fell away to reveal a dark furred and whiskered face, like that of a great black panther. Green eyes with slit irises stared at one face and then another, and the halfling’s heart raced as the false beggar opened his mouth and licked his teeth, just like Lizon’s housecat had done this morning after eating his morning meal. Three long, pinkish scars traveled from his forehead, over an eye and his snout, and down to his cheek. “Greetings,” he said. Pack stared in awe at his feline countenance. He had heard traveling bards tell stories of a fabled race of cat people and its battle prowess, and distinctly remembered they called themselves Feloines. The halfling recalled that those legends had said that they had died out years ago, fighting the demons during the war, but one of their number certainly now stood before the volunteers.

Pack sat speechless as his pony softly whickered. “I found him half dead about a year ago,” he heard Ander say. “And if it weren’t for Brother Theo he would have died outright. Since then, we’ve kept him a secret. There’s no telling what the people in town would have done if they had known. But, I know he’s trustworthy, and he’s proved to be good in a tight spot, especially at night.”

The volunteer’s fell into a long silence, with Ander and Theo glancing at each other as they readied to leave, and Ashrem staring toward the east. Pack sat dumbfounded until he heard Aurora’s soft, unsure voice. “We’re glad to have you,” she said weakly. Ashrem nodded, and Ander, afoot, led them north.

As they traveled, Pack watched the feline featured man… is it right to call him a man? His movements seemed languid and sure, exactly like a cat stalking prey. All the while, the woodsman and priest were discussing the route they would take, and Pack only lent half an ear to their conversation.

For some time, the two men conversed in low tones, until Theo thundered, “Are you mad?”

“It’s the only way, Brother. I’m sure of it.”

“It’s too dangerous for them.”

“That’s their decision, and it’s our best chance of getting underground and linking up with those tunnels.”

Aurora spoke up, “It’s whose decision?”

Ander looked sheepish while Theo gestured to him. “This young pup thinks the only way to track those beasts is by heading underground through some caves.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Pack.

“The caves he’s referring to are in Orloff’s Wood.”

Pack gasped, everyone in Icemist had heard of Orloff. He was a bear unlike any other, standing over two full grown men’s heights, and reaching wider than a barn door. If he was hungry, whole herds of deer would go to fill his belly, and he would drink streams full of water to quench his thirst. He was truly a force of nature, and the most frightening thing Pack knew.

He swallowed heavily, and heard his small voice say, “If it’s the only way, then we must go.”

Aurora interrupted, “It may not be. I think Athena has found us an alternate route.” As she finished her sentence the great white owl floated into view and perched atop the sorceress’ outstretched arm. Pack saw her eyes narrow as they met the owls, and she cocked her head to the side in concentration. “Yes. There’s a… hole?... up ahead. No, make that a rift.” Aurora seemed to be translating for the owl, and was having a difficult time with it. After a few more moments of intense concentration, the strawberry haired woman closed her eyes and shook her head. When she turned back around, she had a smile on her face that Pack felt was just for him.

“The brambles are thick in the direction we need to go, but I know a way for us to get underground. And it’s not in Orloff’s Wood…”

*****

 

[Enkhidu]

Well, here's the promised installment!

And, if you like it (and I know you will), you should thank my partner in crime (and erstwhile sidekick, no matter what he says). As DM, he did a durn good job of setting the mood for our first encounter with these little beasties (he also did a pretty convincing reenactment of the battle during our writing session, and I still have the bruises to prove it - as DM he always gets to play the bad guys. At this point, I'm getting sort of afraid of what will happen if we meet any trolls).

By the way, this is the last post of our first gaming session, if that gives you any indication of how this is going, so you can look forward to dozens more.

Oh yeah, 2 more things. 1) Basic feloine stat info will be up as soon as the DM gets his notes together. Look for them tomorrow at some point. 2) SPOILERS SPOLIERS SPOILERS

That's right from here on out, this story hour will have SPOILERS for the Sunless Citadel. Read accordingly.

And now?

Enjoy...


*****

Pack threw some more wood on the fire and headed back toward his makeshift seat. The fire really hadn’t needed more wood but the halfling was loath to let the others to know how sore he was from the day’s ride. He feigned a yawn, using the opportunity to stretch his tight muscles before glancing around at his traveling mates.

Theo and Ander stood on the outskirts of the camp tending to the horses and discussing in low tones what seemed to Pack to be supplies and timetables. Each man would listen to the other, look to the three-quarter full moon, and then point at the bag holding the party’s supplies. It was obviously not an argument, but it was clear that each man had his own view of how and when the supplies should be used. The discussion seemed to end when Brother Theo let out a hardy laugh and slapped the woodsman on the back, as the younger man chuckled and began redistributing the supplies into smaller bags.

Pack next stretched his legs over toward Aurora. The red haired sorceress sat deep in concentration, staring deeply into the fire. He moved slowly across the encampment, and paused a moment when he neared Ashrem’s sleeping form. The cat-man was to stand second watch when night reached its darkest and where his feline eyesight would be of the most use, and thus had gone to bed early. The halfling had never felt nervous around Ashrem when he had thought of the man as a leper and beggar, but seeing him in his true form sent a chill down the young bard’s spine.

As if reading his thoughts, the feloine opened one of his eyes and smiled. “Fear not Pack, I am still the same person who listened to your songs while Lizon cooked dinner. Please, move on now, you are standing upwind and impede my ability to detect anything that may decide to interrupt our rest.” Then, having finished, Ashrem closed his eye and once again resumed his own even breathing.

Pack shivered once and quickly skipped toward the young maiden, trying to look nonchalant and failing. Once at her side he plopped down on the grassy floor next to her and sighed deeply to try and break her concentration. When that failed to get a reaction, he tried a more direct approach and poked her in the side.

“Wha…Oh, it’s you, Pack. Sorry - old habit from my time in the city. I just sort of block everything out.” Aurora stammered as she blushed at the halfling. Then Pack saw her eye’s light up and a grin spread across both cheeks. “Oh, while you are here, may I use you as a test subject?”

“Sure.” Pack replied eagerly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just stand right where you are.”

“Okay.” He stood and waited as Aurora began backing away from him. At five paces, he began to wonder what she had planned; at ten, he began sweating in anticipation; and at fifteen, he started having second thoughts about volunteering. Once she was about twenty paces from him, Aurora turned and faced the nervous halfling.

Pack watched Aurora’s every motion, trying to discern what the young sorceress was doing. He saw her breathing slow and her eyes focus on his: a sheen of perspiration shone of her forehead. Just as he was about to tell her to hurry, her arm shot straight out and a purple dragon head lanced from her finger tips. The young bard screamed and threw his hands up in front of his face, preparing for the impact of the deadly missile.

The impact never happened. Slowly, Pack opened his eyes and peeked through his fingers. Ander, Theo, and Ashrem huddled around the frightened halfling with weapons drawn and staring at Aurora’s magical projectile, suspended above the fire just a few feet away. Pack watched, amazed, as the dragon head began rotating and growing, blurring into a glowing sphere of purple light. The ball suddenly shifted color, turning a light blue, and the halfling heard Aurora gasp. With her sharp intake of breath, the globe quivered and faded, once again leaving the camp in firelight.

“I’m sorry Pack” Aurora pleaded as she tried to catch her breath. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What was that?” Ander exclaimed as he supported the exhausted spellcaster and led her to her seat.

“It’s something that I have been working on.” Aurora explained. “I’ve been trying to concentrate my scorcher so that it won’t disperse when it hits its target, but when I concentrate too hard all I get is a lopsided ball that starts to overheat. I can ‘feel’ the magic but I can’t control it yet. Pack wasn’t in any danger: I can determine where it goes and unlike my scorcher spell I can shift targets. But once I do that it loses shape and starts to burn the air around it. It’s not quite what I had in mind, but it might just come in handy.”

Brother Theo walked up to the girl with Pack in tow, and patted her on the shoulder, but before he could give any words of encouragement, Pack heard a growl, like that of a great mountain cat.

“We are not alone!”

Pack’s heart raced at Ashrem’s words, and he turned scanning the area for signs of scaly raiders. His body twisted in a complete circle but all he saw was the tangled form of the underbrush that encircled the camp. The bard paused trying to get his bearing and just as he started to question his feline companion, the brambles behind Ander suddenly sprang up and clawed at the young woodsman. Pack’s scream seemed to reach Ander’s ears, and gave the warrior warning enough to roll away before the talons on the manlike bush could tear through more than just his cloak. Ander continued his roll using the momentum to bring his quarterstaff around to bear on his attacker. The bush creature tried to shield the blow with its thick arms but the ranger’s blow had too much force behind it. Pack felt pieces of bark splatter against his skin as the stick figure splintered into tiny wooden fragments.

Brushing the pieces of wood from his face Pack glanced around the campsite. Three more of the creatures had risen from the vines and were fast approaching the small band. Ander moved to position himself in front of Aurora and the young bard while Theo moved to the rear. Pack could not see Ashrem and feared that some unseen twig creatures had dragged off the feloine. The firelight danced around the campsite-turned-battlefield making it hard for the halfling to distinguish between the attackers and the brambles.

Moving slightly closer to the fire, Pack saw the twig creatures begin a frontal assault. All three creatures rushed through the brambles straight towards the bard and his allies. Just as the first one entered the clearing, a dark shadow appeared behind it and a loud cracking noise was heard. The creature stopped and turned in its tracks as the other shambled past. A small crack could be seen in its back as it faced Ashrem, who was pulling his shadowy form out from under the briar.

The cat-man circled the creature looking for an opening. The silhouette of a short silver blade that Pack recognized as the one that Lizon had given to Ander, danced in front of Ashrem. The blade darted out time and again as Pack saw the feloine dodging the needlelike claws of the attacking creature. Thrust after thrust from the small sword pressed into the woody creature but Pack saw no evidence of any real damage being done from the pressing attack.

“Ander,” the tiring feloine called, “I need assistance. My weapon seems to be of no use against these creatures.”

Pack turned to find that the woodsman was in troubles of his own as two of the creatures battered at the young woodsman. Ander was backpedaling, trying to buy time as he held the creatures at bay with his staff. Unlike the feloine’s strikes, whenever one of Anders blows landed, bits of bark and kindling blasted from the struck creature’s body. Just as it looked to the halfling that Ander had gained control of the fight, one of the twig blights ducked under a high blow and jumped upward, tearing at the woodsman’s face. Ander screamed, nearly dropping his weapon, and Pack could see that a thick sap coated the flesh wound causing the skin to blister and peel.

Enraged at the scene, Pack reached down and drew a burning log from the fire. Gripping the log he brandished it like a club with the burning end facing toward his foe. He started towards the woodsman but Ander’s concerned look told him that he was needed elsewhere. Spinning around and following the ranger’s gaze, Pack saw that Theo and his whirling flail had moved up to aid Ashrem, but a fourth creature was moving in on an unknowing Aurora. Pack ran forward to intercept the creature even as Aurora turned and realized her danger. The young sorceress stood paralyzed with fear as the twig blight bore down of her. Pack closed his eyes and charged with all his might at the creature, hoping to push it back away from Aurora. A hollow thud and jarring impact jolted the halfling’s eyes open. Pack could hear the hiss as the sap boiled on the wooden creature, but it did not burst into flame, nor did the impact push the solid creature backwards away from its target.

The creature seemed to grin and reared back to strike the stunned halfling. Pack dropped the log and fell to the ground as two claws ripped at the air where his head had just been. The creature howled and creaked, sounding like fresh wood burning in a fire, and lunged at the defenseless halfling. The creature stopped in mid-air as two deep blue missiles shaped like miniature flying dragons slammed into it, hurtling it into the campfire. The creature thrashed as the flames leapt onto its body but it soon sat still as the fire engulfed it.

Pack glanced back to see a paled Aurora holding the dragon tooth wand motioning for him to get up. Behind her the halfling could see Theo’s flail obliterate Ashram's and his foe with one mighty overhand stroke. All eyes then turned back toward Ander and his duel. The woodsman had already dropped one of the creatures but he showed signs of multiple wounds, all complete with the blistering and peeling from the irritating sap. The remaining creature clawed and raked, keeping the woodsman on his heels. Attack after attack pushed Ander backwards into the brambles where the woodsman’s movement became slowed and hampered by the thick undergrowth.

Sensing that he was in trouble, Pack desperately searched for something to aid the woodsman with. As he looked he saw two more of the miniature dragons fly free of Aurora’s wand and strike the wooden body of the creature. The creature bucked under the onslaught but pressed on with its assault even more ferociously. Brother Theo stepped up next to Aurora and raised his shield up like he was blocking a blow and bellowed out toward the heavens.

“Lord of Thunder, strike your foe with the Fury of the Storms!”

Pack saw the lightning design on Theo’s shield dance, and then coalesce on the shield boss. From that metal disc, a bolt of pure power as thick as a Worm’s arm arced toward the blighted twig’s chest and continued on through it, leaving a charred husk behind. The remainder of the creature slowly toppled into the brambles.

After a moment of stunned silence, Ashrem blended back into the shadows of the thicket, and Ander leaned heavily on his staff. Brother Theo brushed past Pack and reached out to the woodsman, intoning a soothing hymn that seemed to seal Ander’s open wounds. Pack glanced over at Aurora, who had sunk to her knees in exhaustion. From the look on her face, Pack wasn’t sure if she was about ready to laugh, or to cry.

The halfling then wiped his own eyes. What else is out there? And Gods preserve us, can we stand against it?

*****

 

[fett527]

Here they are!

OK, I am posting the racial traits for the panther feloine race which is what Ashrem is. Please note that there are other feloine subraces besides the panthers and where we specifically say panther feloine those traits are only applicable to the panther. All other traits are applicable to all feloines. We toiled for awhile on deciding these traits and keeping them playable and not overpowering. We did testing before we started the campaign and so far things have gone well during actual play as well. Please feel free to comment and ask questions. Thanks for the interest!


PANTHER FELOINE RACIAL TRAITS
•+2 Dexterity, -2 Constitution: Panther feloines are very graceful. This makes them more adept at stealth and ranged combat.
•Medium-size: As medium-size creatures, panther feloines have no special bonuses or penalties due to size.
•Feloine base speed is 30 feet
•Low-light Vision: Feloines can see twice as far as a human in starlight, moonlight, torchlight, and similar conditions of poor illumination. They retain the ability to distinguish detail under these conditions.
•Natural Weapons: Claws-1d3/1d3 Bite-1d4 A feloine is never unarmed because of their natural weapons. They are still restricted by all multiple attack rules that apply.
•Scent ability: Per the Monstrous Manual . A feloine has a heightened sense of smell that allows him to track foes and detect enemies.
•+2 racial bonus on saving throws vs. illusions. The feloines increased sensitivity to smells makes him less susceptible to magical illusions.
•-2 racial negative to saving throws against olfactory based spells. The same sensitivity becomes detrimental against spells such as Stinking Cloud.
•+2 racial bonus to Hide, Balance and Move silently. Panther feloines are a nimble race and therefore are more adept at stealth. Their tail allows them ability to steady themselves more readily.
•Climbing: A feloine's claws allow him to climb more easily on surfaces without handholds. A feloine gains a +5 circumstance bonus to Climb checks on smooth surfaces. He is able climb as if he had handholds.
•Jumping: When a feloine attempts a Jump check his distance is 1.5 times that of normal humanoids.
•Automatic Languages: Regional, Feloine.
•Favored Class: Rogue. A multiclass panther feloine’s rogue class does not count when determining whether he suffers an XP penalty for multiclassing. A panther’s increased abilities in stealth, climbing and balancing make’s him an excellent Rogue.

 

[Enkhidu]

OK, sorry about the wait, but here's the next installment.

Look for another one in a few days!


*****

The cool wind cut through the air like a well-cast sling bullet, and Pack pulled his cloak tighter about him. The young halfling didn’t know what was worse: the chill of the morning ride or the unbearable silence that plagued the group ever since last night’s ambush. The halfling was grateful that the band proceeded more cautiously - to Pack it meant less bouncing in the saddle. However, the slower pace and the mounting fear of an impending attack threatened to sink morale.

Pack had never been on a quest before, but he had memorized every song that the traveling minstrels had performed over the years. Those musical tales always lifted his spirits, and he began searching his memory for something appropriate. All through the morning, and continuing through a lunch in the saddle, he played each melody in his head, searching for just the right piece, but as each tale ended in his thoughts, none seemed to strike the right chord with the nervous bard. If they don’t calm me down, how can I expect them to calm everyone else down? Pack thought, trying to force a solution. Why am I so nervous?

Pack rode on in silence for some time before the answer sounded in his mind like a loud gong. Half of the problem was that he already missed his brother. Even though he knew his traveling companions, the young halfling realized he did not really know them like he did Worm, and his brother and Lizon were the only two people that he trusted with his life.

Pack glanced around as his curiosity took over and the halfling began to analyze each of his companions. Looking around, he realized that the other half of his problem was that he needed more from his companions that what had already been given. The young halfling just had too many questions that needed to be answered.

Pack’s first instinct was to question Ashrem because that was where a majority of the halfling’s unease stemmed from. The feloine, however, had his eyes closed due to lost sleep from standing watch all night, and the halfling did not think it wise to interrupt his even ride. Ander was his next choice but the woodsman spent much of his time ahead of them and afoot, checking the routes through the thickets and watching for more thorn creatures. Poor Aurora looked more concerned than Pack felt, so unless he wanted to talk about himself – and Pack’s life had never before been considered entertaining – that left Brother Theo. Not knowing any other way but the direct way, Pack cleared his throat and started.

“Um, Brother Theo. Can I, uh, ask you a question? I mean you don’t have to answer it, but I figured as long as no one else was talking, we might as well talk. That is to say, I have a few questions, not just one. Um, well, like the…um, the lightning. Yeah, the lightning! I know you are a servant of the storm but WOW. I’ve never seen or heard of a priest who could do that before. Kapow! Zip! Flash and ZZZT! And we had another campfire.” As he spoke Pack realized that, once again, his mouth had moved faster than his thoughts; he also noticed that, once again, his companions had stopped, each person regarding him with an odd look. Even Ashrem had opened his eyes to stare at the bard.

“Sorry,” the halfling croaked as he tried to sink further down in his saddle. Silence weighed on the flustered bard’s head like a giant’s fist. Just as Pack was about to bow his head in shame, a great roaring laugh rumbled out from Brother Theo’s chest.

“Oh, ho, ho! That’s the way, lad! Yes, it’s about time we spoke up and broke this damnable silence.” The aging priest pulled his cloak tighter around himself and seemed distant to the young halfling for a moment. “It is me who is to start then?”

“Please, Theo” Aurora said, looking Theo straight in the face a strange spark in the young lady’s eyes. “I’m also curious about your talent. I’ve heard whispers in the library halls of others who had special gifts like me.”

Brother Theo frowned as he met the sorceress’ gaze. “I wish I could say I share the ‘gift’ that you have Milady, but I cannot.” Pack noticed Aurora’s shoulders slump at the priest’s words but the young lady nodded for Theo to continue. After a heartfelt sigh, the priest turned back toward Pack and began.

“Now this is a good long story and as with all long stories it must be told from the beginning to be understood.” Pack noticed that Ander had pulled back in with the group, listening to the rambling cleric’s words. “As you might know, I am the second son of family Hillshire, and as the second son my job was to help work the farm that my brother would one day inherit. That day came long before it should have, and as a hotheaded youth I couldn’t handle both the loss of my parents and working for my brother. Two weeks after the soil was tilled over their graves, I packed a saddle and headed for Tor to find my own destiny.

‘The capitol was huge, and a bit overwhelming for a farm lad like myself, and I think Aurora will answer the same if you ask her. I found a job as a tower guard during the border disputes between Ion and Tor, and it wasn’t long before I had earned the nickname ‘Thunder Storm’ or ‘Storm’ for short because of my voice, which was deep even then, and for my quick temper. That city has a way of pulling you in like an undertow in a gully stream, and it wasn’t long before the days and months blurred by with fistfights and tavern crawls between watches on the tower gates.

‘Five full years passed that way: get up, run my time at the gates, meet my drinking partners in a tavern, and either end up in a fight or some wench’s arms. Sometimes both. And then I would get up and do it all again. If things had turned out differently, I might still be there.

‘But every man reaches a time in his life when he discovers what’s important. For me, it came when…”

A flock of small birds suddenly scattered from a nearby thicket, halting Theo’s story and spooking the horses. Pack struggled to keep his mount under control and was nearly thrown before Ander laid a reassuring hand on Butter’s flank. The halfling looked around at the faces of his companions. Aurora met his glance with a sheepish grin, and it was obvious that Ander had also been caught unawares. The bard even fancied that the feloine looked chagrined.

“I’m afraid your story may have to wait for another time, Brother,” murmured Ander. “It would be best if we kept our ears open. Next time it might not be birds”

“It might not come to that, Ander.” Aurora’s voice carried over the group, and Pack could feel her excitement. “Wherever it is that we’re going, I think we may be there.” She pointed a long, delicate finger upward and toward the north, toward a large white bird that circled overhead.

*****

 

[Enkhidu]

Hi all!

I just wanted to say that I finally got caught up on a few story hours yesterday, and I really want to point some more of them out. Spider_Jeruselam, in his story hour, plugged a few lesser known story hours (including this one - thanks Spidey!), and it seemed like a good idea to do it here as well.

Please do yourself a favor and check out:

Campaign of DM Cthulu Ftaghn: by Cthulu Ftaghn (who else?)
ForceUser's Vietnamese Story Hour: by ForceUser (this one gives a really different take on the standard D&D milieu)
and, of course,
Ice, Luck, and Honor: by Spider_Jeruselam

All three of these have been going on for a bit, and need your support (plus they're good too).

And, even though their anything but "lesser known" check out (contact)'s Liberation of Tenh and Sepulchrave II's Heretic of Wyre II. (contact) is one of the granddaddies of the whole story hour forum, and has some really well developed characters (and mucho buttkicking) and Sep's story hour(s) has(have) been, well, awesome (for lack of a better term).

Anyway, on with the show...


The previous post from dshai527 is the way a writing session goes between the two of us go, in all it's shameful glory. One of us writes something, the other polishes it, and we fold it all together. Usually we do it in person, but this time it worked out that we have a log of it - take a gander if you dare!

And it's time for another installment!

So here we go... And remember that these posts contain SPOILERS for the SUNLESS CITADEL.


*****


Pack’s backside was on fire. From the time Aurora had pointed out Athena circling overhead, the companions had ridden hard and followed the white owl as closely as the thickets would allow. Ander had swung up behind Aurora on her horse and the two ranged out in front, Aurora setting the direction of travel, and Ander picking the trail. The cantering pace they set jarred Pack’s teeth, but the halfling had to admit that they covered a good deal of ground in that time. The sun was well into its downward arc when they reached a steep rise covered with a huge briar patch.

Ander called a halt to their ride, dismounting and motioning for Ashrem to do likewise. The feloine slid out of the saddle and sniffed the air. After a brief moment, he looked back at the woodsman and shook his head. As Pack looked on, the young man plunged into the thicket, opening a pathway up the rise large enough for the horses to follow: single file, the volunteers rode slowly behind.

Halfway up the low hill, Butter stopped to snack on a thistle, unconcerned with the halfling that wriggled in the saddle on her back. The other horses slipped past the pony as she finished eating, and only after she had let out a snort back toward her rider did the frustrated bard’s mount continue. When the pair finally began moving again, Pack looked toward the rise, where his companions sat and stood, gazing over the top of the short hill. Butter quickly caught up with the others, and Pack caught sight of what entranced his companions: a huge rift sat not more than a mile away like a scar in the earth.

The companions sat quietly for a few moments until the bard broke the silence. “So this is it.” Though he had tried to make is voice lighthearted, he had failed miserably; the words sounded ominous even to his small ears.

“Athena just landed near the edge,” said Aurora. “That’s definitely where she was leading us.”

“Then that’s where we go,” rumbled Theo. “Lead on, Ander.” The olive-skinned man grunted in what Pack assumed was agreement, and began trailblazing through the remaining thicket.

He watched the rift draw closer: it was not very long, but it was wide. If the group had decided to go around it, the trip would have taken them at least a full day, if not more, but Ander had aimed their course directly at the chasm. The bard looked around at his companions as they drew closer. Brother Theo gray-haired head was bowed in thought, while Aurora looked much braver than Pack had thought she would. When he looked more closely, however, he saw that her breathing seemed shallow and forced, as if she fought to control it. He then glanced at Ashrem, searching the feloine’s eyes for some sign of emotion, but the beggar’s feline features seemed made of stone. Ander moved ahead of the group purposefully, as if he carried a heavy burden, and Pack couldn’t help but think that if he was in charge of leading the way he would feel the same.

* * * * *

The group moved quickly, finally reaching the edge of the rift and dismounting to get a better view. Aurora’s snowy white owl had perched atop a large post that was jutting from the rocky ground out into the chasm. The post stood taller than the halfling even when atop his pony, and it was carved with strange symbols and figures that vaguely resembled dragons flying toward the post head. Peering out beyond the post, Pack could see down into the rift - the sight was spectacular and nauseating at the same time. Huge towers of rocks and caves lined the crevice walls but the bottom was shrouded in mists and shadows, leaving what lurked there to Pack’s active imagination. The halfling shook his head and chuckled, thanking the fates that he would not be going down there, but when the grateful bard moved to once again mount his pony he noticed that all eyes moved back and forth between the chasm and him..

“Oh, no,” was all the hapless halfling could mutter.

* * * * *

Pack tested the knots one more time before looking back and nodding to Ander that he was ready to begin. The halfling twisted and pulled on each of the threaded ends that he was about to entrust his life to, but with a great sigh he casually stepped off the edge of the rift. The rope pulled tight immediately and Pack heard Ander and Theo grunt as his weight was suddenly shifted onto their arms. The halfling spun dizzyingly around as he was lowered into the crevice Aurora’s owl had located. It was darker down in the chasm than up top, as the rift walls blocked the light from the sun, but the bard could make out a small, grassy landing that, strangely, seemed to have a set stairs running down the sides.

Pack pushed of from the wall to angle his descent toward the landing and tugged on the rope twice to indicate to his companions that they needed to slow him down. With a great swing, the halfling planted his feet firmly on the soft grass of the plateau. Once he had gained his balance by waving his arm out wide, the bard began to walk slowly around the grass covered terrace, making his way toward the iron staircase.

At the edge of the landing, Pack paused to look at the rusted iron steps leading down into the morning mists. The stairs themselves seemed to be in fairly good shape, aside from the rust, but the anchor points attaching to the plateau seemed worn and unsafe. The halfling bent over to examine further when a rustling noise behind him sent shivers up his spine and froze him solid.

Knowing that he was supposed to be alone, Pack never even looked over his shoulder until he had clambered halfway up the rope. “Pull me up! Pull me up!” Once he was safely being hosted back toward the surface, the scared halfling chanced a glance over his shoulder. The halfling found two pairs of red glowing eyes staring back at him. The eyes belonged to two huge, at least from Pack's perspective, creatures about the size of a large dog. They had tufts of fur sticking out from weird angles all over their body and walked on all fours. Elongated snouts protruded from their face and ended with sharp flat teeth. The creatures almost resembled a pair of huge, misshapen, and bloated rats to the young bard, like from a black magic fairy tale or nightmare.

By the time Pack’s head crested the crevice wall, he was shaking. “There’s something down there! Something big! With big teeth and red eyes!” Once firmly back on solid ground, he began gesturing as he spoke. “They were this big!” He threw his arms out as wide as they could go. “And there’s no way I’m going back down there, because they look hungry!”

Aurora laid a hand on his shoulder and interrupted him. “Slow down, Pack,” she said soothingly. “What exactly was down there?”

“Rats. The biggest rats I’ve ever seen. Bigger than me, even.”

Ander broke in. “Rats, Pack? I never figured you to be afraid of rats.”

“You don’t understand, Ander, these aren’t normal rats.”

Pack saw Ander stifle a smirk. “Of course they’re not. Would it make you feel better if one of us went down first?”

“Please?”

Ander shrugged and looked at Ashrem, who nodded silently. Moments later, the feloine had secured himself with the rope and prepared to lower himself off the side, Ander and Theo holding the line steady as it quivered under his weight. Just before he disappeared over the side, he looked directly at Pack, licked his lips – much like a Lizon’s old Tom did before catching a mouse – and winked slowly at the still quivering halfling.

*****

Next time....

Watch bad tactics cause great havoc!

See our heroes beset with danger on all sides!

and,

Find out why Ander really wishes he had Foe Hunter: Rat!

(Did I mention how much I hate rodents?)

 

[Enkhidu]

Hi all!

We've got a fairly long update today, from a slightly different point of view than our friendly neighborhood halfling. I hope that it's a pleasant change of pace!

By the way, this may be the only update over the next week: I'll be writing and posting my portion of the ENWWC Story Hour. Our writing circle test run is going strong over there, and you should head over to take a look at it if you haven't - lot's of creamy story time goodness with a number of authors - some of which you might recognize as authors of other story hours! So hop on over to that thread (and shame on you if you haven't already!) - the link is in my sig...

As always, the Small Beginnings Story hour has SPOILERS from the Sunless Citadel, so be warned.


Well, without further ado...

*****
The feloine tested the knot in the rope secured tightly around his weight, and then looked back at his traveling companions. Wordlessly, he walked over to the edge of the cliff. He looked back at his friend Ander and the aging priest Theo; they had taken up the loose end of the rope and stood braced to take his weight. Then Ashrem slowly walked backward over the side, the rope tight against his body. As he did, he caught sight of Pack’s nervous face. In an effort to put the halfling in a better mood, he smiled, licked his lips, and winked: then he dipped below the rocky edge and was gently lowered to the grass below.

Ashrem sniffed the air as he untied the rope and walked around the landing. The feloine saw no tracks but he could smell the fresh scent that the halfling had left, and there was something else in the air that gave the panther pause. It was musky and foul, like the smell of a mammal that had died in the hot sun after being trampled by a horse. The smell was like acid on his sensitive nose, and the feloine’s eyes had started to tear up. He quickly moved to edge of the landing near the stairs, where the breeze lessened the smell. Once he cleared his senses, he tugged twice on the rope and began tying the end off to the iron staircase.

Ashrem watched until he saw Ander’s lean frame sliding down the rope, and then he turned his eyes back to searching for Pack’s little rat friends. Crossing over the grassy plateau, Ashrem gracefully slid the silver short sword Ander had just given him out of its scabbard and once again delighted in its masterful balance and feather-light weight. The feloine knew that his debt, as well as his respect, to the woodsman was deeper now due to this amazing blade. With the weapon, Razor, poised ahead of him, the feloine crept forward to glance over the edge of the landing.

The acid stench assaulted his senses once again, but this time Ashrem was prepared and pulled his beggar wrap back over his mouth and nose. It didn’t eliminate the smell but it did make it bearable. Once at the edge, Ashrem noticed a thick tangle of brown vines that were clinging to the cliff face like scaling ropes from an invading army. The vines covered the entire side of the plateau and disappeared down into the heavy fog where the feloine could faintly make the outline of what appeared like a castle wall.

Behind him, the feloine heard Aurora and Pack slide down the ropes and touch ground. Ashrem started to turn and greet his companions, when he heard a slight rustling coming from the vines. Putting his weapon point first into the vines, he gentle brushed aside the top layer of thick growth. When the vines were pulled back far enough for the feloine to see, a huge shape of fur and teeth erupted towards him clawing and gnashing at his face.

A surprised growl erupted from Ashrem’s throat as he tucked his sword and tumbled backwards to avoid anything more than a surface scratch along his forearm. When he stood once again, Ander was beside him with his walking staff in a defensive position protecting both the woodsman and the feloine.

“See I told you, See I told you! Oh No, Now there are four of them!” Ashrem heard Pack screaming, and the feloine could imagine a pale faced Aurora beside the halfling, both of them backing toward the stairs.

It was Ashrem who was surprised though, as twin energy dragons flew over his shoulder and exploded into the lead creature leaving scorch marks on its furry hide. The feloine was equally surprised that the creature was still moving toward the companions after being struck by the energy missiles that had killed kobold raiders with just one, not two. Ander struck next: leaping forward toward the lead rat, the woodsman did an overhand smack that dropped the rat to its belly, but once again Ashrem was amazed that the creature merely growled and got back up. He stepped forward to strike at the beast’s head, but the creature was just as agile as the feloine and managed to avoid the quick thrust.


The large rodents once again surprised the agile scout by breaking their charge and rushing back into the sanctuary of the vines. Ashrem held out his arm to stop Ander from rushing headlong after them. A purring laugh softly buzzed from his mouth, and the feloine winked at the woodsman as an idea sprang into his head. Taking a few steps backwards the feline scout yanked a torch from Pack’s overflowing backpack. While he tried to light the wooden shaft with flint pulled from his belt, Ashrem peered over and nodded at Ander. The feloine smiled when the woodsman nodded back and began unstringing his bow.

“Pack, Aurora,” Ander called “get ready with slings and spells. This should all happen pretty quickly.”

Ashrem felt the fire’s breath against his face as it sprang onto the alcohol dipped torch. As he lifted the torch, the feloine could hear the whistling of a small sling as it whirled round and round behind his back and the even whispers of Aurora’s voice as she calmed her nerves and prepared her spells for the attack. A purple haze interrupted Ashrem’s concentration and the cat turned, along with everyone else, to see the source of the mysterious aura. To the feloine it seemed as if Aurora’s body was encased in a glowing suit of armor, complete with helmet. The image outlined the young sorceress’ body for just a few heartbeats and then faded away, leaving a determined Aurora staring at everyone.

“Just getting ready.” She squeaked somewhat embarrassed as a red tinge flushed onto her cheeks. Ashrem’s only reply was a short snort and then he turned and launched the torch high over his head and into the awaiting vines. The torch bounced once and went over the cliff’s edge into the thick of the tangled growth. Smoke poured up as the dried foliage quickly caught the flame and fed it, creating a spreading wall of death.

“What’s all this?” Theo’s voice crashed down from above as the aging cleric clambered down the rope to join them. The saddlebags of supplies that Theo had strung over his back impeded his armored form as the priest attempted to hurry his descent.

A shrill squeaking followed by the soft twang of a bow snapped Ash’s head back toward the blazing vines. A flaming rat had rushed from the inferno, only to have an arrow from the woodsman’s bow lodge in its head. As the feloine watched, more of the bulbous rodents charged from the smoke towards the awaiting companions. With the swish of a sling a silver bullet was propelled over Ashrem’s left shoulder, while dragon headed energy bolts winged over his right shoulder. Missile after missile flew forward from bow, sling and wand at the grotesque rats, but the furry beasts took the hits and kept surging forward, pushing the companions back toward the stairs.

Ash’s foot stepped back and the cold clank of boots on iron metal stairs greeted his ears: the feloine knew that they had to make a stand. Launching himself forward into the midst of his foes, the nimble cat warrior roared and slashed out with Razor’s keen edge. The sword sliced home at one of the rats that was swarming toward Ander as the woodsman tried to switch from bow to quarterstaff. The blade slid through the scabrous hide of the creature as if it were a ghost; the spraying blood was the only indication that the blade had found its mark. The lifeless rodent hit the ground, its body nearly cut in half, but Ashrem saw that his friend was covered with the creatures each biting and clawing at the woodsman as he attempted to bring his staff around to protect his body. Thin streams of blood covered the human’s body as bite after bite found his soft flesh. The feloine began to circle the woodsman looking for a way to aid his companion, but the booming voice of Brother Theo brought new events to his attention.

“Ashrem!” The priest bellowed as he finally planted his feet on the plateau, “Look to Pack and Aurora, I will help Ander!” With that the priest dropped the saddlebags to the ground and yanked his flail from his belt, charging into the mass of fur and flesh and bowling the rats away from the distressed woodsman.

Knowing that Ander had received aid, Ashrem turned to help the small halfling and fragile young sorceress. Three of the rats had the two companions cornered on the opposite edge of the battlefield. Pack was crowded behind Aurora madly searching through his immense pack. The sorceress was swinging at the three rodents with her wand as they bit and snapped at her frail form. Ash was amazed that each time the beasts raked teeth or claws at the female human, a shimmering field shaped like armor hardened around the sorceress’ frame.

As Ash moved in behind the sorceress and her foes, the feloine visibly saw a look of relief on the young maiden’s face: he could tell that she had been biting her lip, agonizing over her predicament. The panther feloine angled his blade at the rat’s backside and made a silent promise that he would protect his innocent companions as best he could until they were all once again safe. As Razor once again found its target, the feloine swore that he would do for these companions what he was unable to do for his squad during his military service in the Demon Wars. Anger seized the feloine as he buried Razor up to the hilt in another of the pock-ridden rats. He would protect them and rid himself of the nightmares and demons that haunted his dreams and plagued his memories.

The rage fed Ashrem and the battlefield became a blur of color, sound and smells, none of which registered to the feline warrior as he focused on his last target. The creature was running and the fleet footed feloine was hard pressed to keep up. The stench of smoke and disease faded and the sounds of battle were replaced by the scraping of boots and claws on the metal landings of the stairwell. Ashrem quickly snapped from his fury as the stairs shifted under his momentum and weight, nearly pitching the feloine and his prey off into a dizzying fall. The nimble scout glanced around analyzing the situation and collecting his thoughts. He was nearly halfway down the stairs and his companions were shouting at him to wait. His rat prey had slowed in front of him, as if waiting for him to give chase again: almost like it was leading him to an ambush…

 

[Enkhidu]

It's time for a new (if short) post!

I was finally able to finish my turn in the ENWWC (see sig for link), and, lo and behold, found that my cohort dshai527 and I had enough juice left over to rough out the next post. After some spit, polish, and cooperative rewites, here it is!

By the way, we've decided that the story is best served by POV switches on a very regular basis, and we're trying to figure out who YOU, the readers, want to see the story through.

If you have a request to see this thing through the eyes of other party members, now is the time to ask (we've already heard from Mr. Pink in this regard, but more opinions can only help! And it should be obvious that we cater to our audience from the POV in the next post!)!

And without further ado...

Enjoy!

*****

With a crack of the quarterstaff, Ander finished off the last of the rats that had assaulted him. His body ached from the many bruises and scratches that the creatures had inflicted but as his mentor, Wrothgar, had told him, ‘any fight you can walk away from is a good fight.’ The woodsman watched as Ashrem broke from the impromptu battlefield in quick pursuit of the last fleeing rat. He had never seen the feloine so enraged and determined: ever since the day he had found him half-dead in a snow bank a year ago, his friend always seemed so calm, almost placid. The young ranger turned to give chase but his knee buckled beneath him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

A quick look down at his legs told the young warrior that his injuries were more serious than he had imagined. Blood soaked through his trousers turning the tan cotton a bright crimson and his knee seemed to be swelling.

“Ashrem, wait for us!” The woodsman cried out to the feloine, trying once again to stand and give chase. However, it appeared that his call fell on deaf ears as the feloine continued on his course and followed the rat down the twisting iron stairs.

He swore as his leg again failed to support his weight sinking him back down to one knee. “Black Lord’s Bones, Ash!” Suddenly, a large, calloused hand grasped his shoulder, pushing the woodsman back to the ground before he could react.

“Hold still son, you have a nasty one there.” Brother Theo rumbled, as he ripped open Anders pants leg to reveal a grotesque bite mark: the bite was coated with some form of green liquid and it oozed blood like a small spring. The young warrior watched as Theo placed his hands over the wound and chanted a quick prayer to Zuras, the storm lord. Without knowing why, Ander lay still, trusting the worldly priest as he would his own father.

“Mists of the Storm, heal the flesh as you heal the soil.” Theo chanted and Ander felt a soothing sensation, like morning dew, cover the wound on his leg and creep over his entire body. When the priest removed his hands from the bite mark, only a small scar was present. “I think I got to it before the infection could take hold. And now, my boy, we give chase!”

Ander felt the strength of the aging priest, as he was yanked to his feet and pulled toward the staircase. As the priest continued down the stairs, Ander paused to look over the railing to spy Ashrem. The woodsman saw his friend on the third landing about halfway down the switchback staircase and he watched as four more of the giant rats burst from the soft soil of the plateau wall out onto the stairs, surrounding the feloine. Seeing his friend in danger, Ander wasted no time in turning and springing down the stairs. The ranger could feel his step lengthen effortlessly as the wondrous powers of Icemantle’s boots, strengthened his legs and propelled him forward in long leaps. He quickly passed Theo on the winding trip down as each of his strides covered several steps, bringing him closer to the side of his feloine companion.

“Ander, Don’t! The stairs are unstable!” Ander heard Ashrem roar as the woodsman jumped towards the second landing, Brother Theo close behind him. Unable to stop himself in mid-leap, the young woodsman tried to aim himself for the middle of the landing where he could try to balance himself if the feloine’s fears about the stairs were true; but as his weight impacted the iron surface, the entire landing shifted and pulled outward from the wall. Ander gripped the rail and managed to hold his position on the precarious precipice, but the young woodsman looked on in horror as Brother Theo was unable to follow suit and pitched over the side, arms flailing.

Ander wrapped a leg around the railing and reached out for Theo, but all the woodsman was able to grasp was the empty space the priest used to occupy. Each second became a lifetime to the tracker as he watched his priestly companion tumble towards the ground. He looked on helplessly as Theo tried to grab the railing of the next landing down, where Ashrem was engaged with several rats. The aging cleric managed to grab a hold of the iron floor of the landing as he plummeted, and was able to maintain his grip on the unstable stairs; but the split second of added weight by the priest, combined with that of the dueling combatants, mirrored the effects of the first shifting landing, and sent another shock through the staircase as it strained against it’s moorings.

Ander shifted his weight, balancing himself against the motion of the lurching switchback, and felt his stomach turn as he watched Theo and a trio of rats pitch away from the iron railing, spiraling toward the rocky rift floor.

*****

Tune in next timefor ...

"Stairs Make the Worst Battlefields," or "Ground Floor, Everybody Off!"

 

[Enkhidu]

"Stairs Make the Worst Battlefields," or "Ground Floor, Everybody Off!"

That's right, it's time for a new post, a new Point of View, and (hopefully) more input from you - the readers - on what character you want to see next!

Guess what - SPOILERS for the Sunless Citadel continue (though in a heavily modified form - dshai527 made a bunch of changes to this thing, from what I've been told/am finding out).

Oh, and tip of the day - 2 pirates in a Pinnace don't make an armada, no matter what the governor's daughter might say (maybe d'shai will tell that story at some point, but I really hope he doesn't. It's just embarrassing...).

Anyway, without further ado...

Enjoy!

*****

Theo could feel his fingers slipping on the metal landing as it pulled away from the rising cliff face. The desperate cleric flailed his left arm seeking to dislodge the large wooden shield strapped tightly to his forearm, so that he could find a second handhold and secure his grip. Above him, the priest heard his ally Ashrem, along with his foes, get thrown to the landing and scramble madly to avoid sliding off the slanting switchback.

Theo grunted, forcing all his strength into his aching fingers. The priest knew he could not hold on for long, but he needed to maintain his hold long enough for the slowly teetering landing to shift back towards the vine covered rock wall. To speed up the movement, the priest began kicking his legs to force the landing back into its moorings. Just as he felt the stairs shift though, fur-tufted bodies bowled into the priest, breaking his already fragile hold on the iron landing.

For a moment it seemed as if time stopped, as Theo and three clawing rats hung in mid air; then the old cleric felt Gea’s Grasp enclose his body and yank downward. Frantically he reached out, grabbing and clawing at the air in a desperate attempt to find something to save him from the stone teeth that waited below, promising to smash his bones. Images of his life flashed through his head: his brother, his marriage, the Demon War, the burial of his wife, Muriel, and his finally his vow to Zuras that he would find vengeance for her death.

With thunderous rage, Theo lashed out towards the vine coated wall one last time. “Zuras help me now so that my vow does not go unfulfilled!” As if in answer, the priest’s fingers met the resistance of dried foliage. Quickly the priest closed his fingers around the rotting vines, trying to haul himself in towards their safe embrace, but vine after vine broke underneath his great weight until his fingers felt as if they were being yanked from his palm.

With each snap of broken vine, Theo could feel himself slowing and with renewed effort he plunged his arm into the tangled mess. Since he had been unable to dislodge his immense shield, the priest now buried its edge into the mesh as well. For a moment, he thought it would work, but quickly realized it would not be enough and tucked himself behind his shield, bracing himself for the inevitable impact.

The impact was not quite what the priest had expected: instead of one heavy and fatal impact, his body was assaulted with a dozen small ones. As he hit the widening base of the plateau, his head slammed into his shield so hard he nearly bit his tongue in two, while his legs pounded into each other with such force that they felt fused into one. Dazed, Theo bounced down the angled cliff side, rolling over and over so all sides of his body were equally pummeled by the rocky facing.

When he finally rolled to a stop, Theo felt as if he had been caught in a wheat grinder and somehow survived. Blood flowed freely from his mouth and his head felt as if it weighed more than the chain armor he wore. Fast moving spots plagued his vision of a now rotating world, while a dark fog assaulted his thoughts, making both movement and comprehension difficult. Worst, he could no longer feel his shield arm. Focusing his thoughts and his strength, the cleric tried to regain his feet and signal his comrades that he was okay, but as he lifted his head, the world swam and a hissing noise came from high above. The cleric was not the only one to survive the fall.

Grim faced, Theo painfully turned his head to see two of the red-eyed rats running down the vines, like squirrels running down a tree. He swore as he tried to shake the cobwebs from his brain. Realizing that he only had heartbeats before they were upon him, the cleric swung his backpack around using his good arm, hoping that the padded box that held Father Lion’s healing potions was still intact. Flipping the metal latch, Theo yanked open the small box, letting out a small sigh of relief at the sight of the undamaged bottles. He snatched one and ripped the wax seal off with his teeth. Taking a deep breath to prepare for what he knew was to come, the priest drained the contents of the small silver vial.

Theo felt as if a fire had erupted in his mouth and the cleric tensed as he felt the flames spread, igniting every nerve throughout his body. The sensation of the dwarven healing drought wasn’t exactly painful, but at the same time it was none too pleasant to the aged priest. He felt the pulling and stretching of bone and muscle as his wounds mended and his blood clotted in an instant. Then with a shudder, he found his feet as the pair of rats bounded to the ground.

The burning sensation passed as he stared at the rats and his eyes narrowed as he saw that one of them stood over his flail. With a grunt, he lowered his shoulder and charged in, raising his shield in front of him; the rats screeched as he plowed into the one guarding his weapon, knocking it backward into the vines. The other rat skittered around behind him, and snapped ineffectively at his legs.

The aging priest bent low and pivoted in place, grasping the haft of his flail as he did. Then with a single motion he brought the spiked head and chain in a huge arc and down into the back of the biting rat. With the crunch of bone, the heavy threshing knob snapped the rodent’s spine and drove it into the rock strewn ground, leaving a slowly spreading patch of crimson.

Pain ripped through Theo’s senses as the cleric realized he had fallen prey to the rat’s cunning flank. He pulled away as blood dripped from the fresh gash that adorned his left thigh and turned to face his adversary, who seemed to mock the cleric by licking the blood from its snout. Gritting his teeth, the warrior priest stormed forward with his flail whistling out before him.

Theo felt his mind slip as his training took over. He could hear the calls of the arms masters as he swung his weapon with deadly accuracy, barely noting the sharp pain in his forearm. He felt blow after blow land on the fur covered hide of his target, as impact after impact registered on his shield. With a final thud, the priest realized that his enemy lay still, its life essence flowing into the blood soaked soil.

Theo breathed a relieved sigh and said a little prayer, “By the rain, Winged Lord, I owe you thanks.” He looked up toward the stairs. The iron railings and platforms had stopped swaying, and his companions seemed to have dealt with the surviving rats: with Ashrem leading the way, the four began making their way slowly down the remaining switchbacks. Bringing his attention back to the now quiet ground, the cleric saw the corpses of his two adversaries, as well as the splattered remains of what once was the third rat. Then, rounding the base of the plateau and looking out into the fog, Theo saw something that took his breath away.

There, secluded in a crevice, stood a keep. Hidden from view by the mists, and separated from the landing by a small courtyard, it seemed untouched by time, save for the heavy layer of vines that covered brick and cobblestone. Turning back toward the stair, he waved to his young friends and took a deep breath to call them down when he heard the rustling of vines up ahead.

Moments later, he was running toward the stair with a half dozen rats in pursuit…

*****

Next time!

"Crossing the Courtyard" or "Chutes and Ladders"

(And if my cohort keeps making me write these stupid titles, I'm going to make him start posting. And here I thought the pirate thing was embarrassing...)

 

[Enkhidu]

Crossing the Courtyard or Chutes and Ladders

Hi all!

My cohort in crime, Dshai527, suggested that we make a concerted effort to start posting more often (two times a week if possible) until we catch up, so here we are with another update.

Once again, it comes with a switch of point of view, this time through the eyes of your favorite sorceress. Hopefully these frequent switches are giving you a taste of what's underneath the exteriors of these characters!

Well, I'd better get to posting before D'shai (who's standing over my shoulder this very second) decides to make me put in another one of those...

Dang it, he already came up with one.

OK - "tip of the day"

Beavers don't live in pajamas. Unless invited.

Don't ask me - I have no idea where he comes up with these things.

Enjoy!

*****

Aurora’s thin brow furrowed in concentration as she finished her quick incantation and pointed at the last rat visible on the stairs. She felt the surge of magical energies swell in her fingertips and lash out, taking the form of a single purple dragon’s maw, just as she envisioned it. The eldritch missile streaked unerringly toward her target, and burst into its side: with a squeal, the huge rodent fell heavily to the iron lattice floor. Exhausted from the channeling of multiple spells, yet at the same time tingling with lingering pleasure, Aurora let her arms fall heavily to her sides, while she peered over the edge to her companions on the stairs.

“My thanks, Aurora. I do believe that is the last of them.” Ashrem’s silky tenor carried up from below, confirming what the young sorceress had already surmised. “And I have good news. Brother Theo is moving down there, and the rats that fell with him are not.”

On hearing that Theo was still alive, Aurora let out a long, relieved sigh. She looked over at Pack, standing close by, and saw that the halfling could barely contain his joy at the news – the red haired spellcaster imagined he might burst at any moment – and she could see him visibly fight the urge to run right down the rickety staircase.

Ander called out from the stairs, “As long as you take it slow, you should be able to get down without a problem.” As if to dispute the exotic woodsman’s statement, the iron railings creaked in reply, but Aurora saw that Pack was already on his way to the first landing. With a shrug, she followed him down the switchback.

With Ashrem in the lead, the four made their way down the stairwell. Aurora stretched her limbs as she walked after her companions. It had been quite some time since she had worked this hard. This was definitely more exciting than life in the city, studying books and dusting shelves in the library. The young sorceress paused to examine the carcass of one of the bloated rats as she came down to the third landing. A wicked grin was locked on the dead rodent’s jaw, while pus oozed from the burn mark that her missile had left. Aurora felt her stomach tightening at the sight and tried not to retch as she hastily continued down the stairs.

A flurry of wings descended on the railing next to the fleeing sorceress as she hurried from the grisly scene. The sight of Athena, her trusted companion, calmed the maiden’s nerves and she stopped to ruffle the owl’s head feathers. Her hand stopped short as Athena sent her a grim message. Mistress Sunrise, the bloated food is hunting the old wise one.

Aurora gripped the rail and leaned over to view the area where she suspected the cleric might be. At first glance the concerned mage saw no sign of the priest through the mists. Then a lone figure rounded the base of the plateau at a full run, a pack of rabid rodents on his heels. Panic gripped the young sorceress as she watched the old warrior turn to face his attackers. She shrieked a warning. “Ander! Ashrem! Theo’s in trouble! He needs help, now!”

Without hesitation, both warriors rushed to aid their companion. Aurora gasped as the pair leapt over the railing of the fourth landing and fell the twenty feet toward the ground. Ander hit the ground softly with wisps of smoke billowing out from under his boots that the sorceress automatically recognized as a magical effect. The shadowy feloine amazed the naïve maiden by gracefully landing on his feet and then tucking into a perfect roll that left him standing with his short blade drawn and ready. Then the two rushed off toward the hard pressed cleric.

The young mage turned her attention back to Theo, who had managed to out maneuver the rats following him. He had turned to face them in a narrow part of the gap between the plateau and the ravine wall, and this had stopped them from surrounding him completely, but he still looked overmatched. Rats snapped and bit at his legs and torso, while he sought to fend off their teeth with quick movements of his shield. Even as far away as she was, Aurora could tell he was tiring quickly.

Suddenly, Ander was there, rushing up behind and then leaping over the cleric just as the old campaigner stepped back. The handsome woodsman rooted himself in Theo’s place and his quarterstaff became a blur as he fended off attack after attack. While Ander covered the retreat, Ashrem pulled Theo away from the fight and back to relative safety. Aurora could barely hear the old priest’s booming voice warning the young warriors that these were no ordinary rats.

A tendril of mist passed between Aurora and her companions, obscuring her view of the fight below. Quickly – a bit too quickly, as the staircase rocked with her motions – she climbed down another flight of steps and onto the next platform of the switchback. Her view now unobstructed, she saw the skirmish take a turn for the worse.
Ander still stood his ground, but the rats had managed to surround him even in the tight confines of the gap. They clung to vines and rocks in the walls near the ranger, and nipped and clawed at his shoulders, while one large rat in front of him, standing atop the brown furred carcass of another rodent, kept him busy with a flurry of bites at his midsection. From her vantage point, Aurora saw that Ander had a large bite on his shoulder, and it seemed to pain him as he fought.

Behind the exotic young man, Aurora saw Ashrem fending off any attempts by the rats to completely surround the woodsman, but he was not quite close enough to his targets to cause any harm. The rodents seemed quite content to gnaw on the human in front of them, rather than the dangerous looking feloine behind their easy meal. From the fray, the mage heard Ander cry out in pain, as one of the rats on his flank sank teeth into flesh.

Then the music began. Pack’s high voice washed over Aurora as the bard began to sing. His clear, bell-like pitch tolled out the words to a song the sorceress had heard only one time before, during the raid by the kobolds; but where Theo’s voice had carried over that battlefield like a cry to the gods for help, the halfling’s version of Trennor’s Triumph rang out with something much more. It carried hope.

Aurora found herself singing along in a low soft voice, and the priest also joined in, thundering out as if the words alone would defeat the enemy. Ander began swinging his quarterstaff almost rhythmically, cracking home one blow and then another at the rat on his left, and Ashrem finally managed to bring his sword down on that same rat, toppling it lifeless from its perch.

The red haired sorceress maneuvered herself into a more advantageous position as she nervously gripped the wand Lizon had given her and brought it to bear. With a word in Dragon’s Tongue she activated the wand, and two snapping dragons flew from its tip and sped toward the rat on Ander’s right as it climbed higher in the vine lattice. With a squeal it fell limp, its hide smoking as it hung caught in the vines.

Theo had not been idle, and he now stood tall, seemingly cured of his wounds. As Aurora watched with wide eyes, he held his shield out in front of him and stopped singing long enough to shout out to Zuras. Even in the sun, the flash from his shield nearly blinded her as a thin stroke of lightning arced out and caught another of the rats, causing it to screech in pain. Immediately after, she heard a thump and saw it fall to the ground. Glancing back down at Pack, who stood on a landing lower than the sorceress, she saw that he was recovering from a sling throw.

The remaining two rats then broke and ran, but fell in their tracks from a combination of another pair of dragon’s head missiles, a bullet from Pack’s sling and another arc of lightning from Brother Theo.

Aurora made her way down to the ground more slowly as she saw Ashrem move cautiously forward around the plateau, beyond her view. He seemed to be sniffing, and his large, cat-like ears swiveled in response to what the sorceress assumed were various sounds. Pack had ended his song, and the companions looked at one another with tense smiles on their faces. When Ashrem returned, the companions all glanced over at him.

“I do not sense any more. I believe that we have dealt with the last of them,” he stated. Aurora heard Pack breathe a sigh of what she thought might be relief, and she immediately joined the halfling in a broad faced grin.

“Then we made it!” the bard shouted, almost child-like. “We made it! Did you see how far we came down?” He pointed up at the top of the plateau. Aurora followed his finger up, and could barely make out Athena circling the grassy top through the mists.

Ander’s smooth baritone broke into the conversation. “I think the real question is ‘where are we now’, and I for one would like to find out,” he stated nonchalantly, as if he had not just been in a battle for his life. Brother Theo stood close by the woodsman, and was busily wrapping his more serious bite marks. Aurora could tell by the older man’s face that young man’s condition was probably worse than the ranger was willing to admit. “What’s up ahead, Ashrem,” he directed at the rag wrapped once-beggar.

“Around this bend, there is a vine covered courtyard, and a door set in a fortified stone wall. No sign of anything alive.”

“Then we need to check it out.” The rugged woodsman looked at Aurora with deep set eyes as he stretched his legs and set off towards the bend. He held her gaze for a moment: “Coming?” Then he was out of sight.

Aurora followed closely after, falling into line behind Ashrem. She spied Ander already well into the courtyard, picking his way through the vines that covered the ground up to the knee. The ranger made a beeline straight for a door set in the wall.

“Looks like this is the place,” the young man called out, stopping to turn around and look at back at the trio. “Don’t worry about the vines. It’s all solid flagstones underneath. No problem at all.” Then he turned around and took a careful step toward to the door.

With a surprised shout, Ander disappeared beneath the vines.

*****

Next Time!

“Pitfalls,” or “Good Thing I’m Not Afraid of the Dark”