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[auzewasright]

It's been some time since I was active on these forums last, so no turn asking yet. PTW

[brewer bob]

Welcome to watch! Nice to see new faces in the thread.

This has turned into mostly a single-player game now, but adventurer turns can still be asked for. I've just been too lazy to update the main post.

(Next update will take some time since there's all sorts of October/Dwarftober community games, which I'll be participating in. I'll try to squeeze in some Waterlures play time, but it might take until the end of the month for anything to happen.)

[brewer bob]

Updated finally the Main Post to mention the current state of the game as a mainly single-player one.

On the next actual write-up: I've got some game time in already, so it might not take as long to get one up as I thought above.

[brewer bob]

Part XII:
The Road Leads South

8th of Felsite, 383

The travelers headed along the road from Controlledseal towards lands lying in the south. It was a fair day to travel and spirits were high. It was the beginning of an altogether new adventure with unknown lands ahead. They walked briskly along the dirt road that led up and down highland slopes covered in highland grasses and flowering cloudberries.

Coni was in a particularly jovial mood and kept on complimenting their new traveling companions of their choices of attire. Some took it better than others, even though the outfits made by the tailors of Controlledseal were worthy of praise, indeed. Even the four adventurers themselves were dressed in Controlledseal garb, for the capybara merchants had bought them new ones. Their old clothing was beginning to show wear and tear, and honestly was ill-suited for colder climates.




Not far from the fortress a small path branched from the road, leading past a gnarled, short walnut tree and down a ramp into the stone. Tanzul looked at it curiously and walked towards it, then turned to the folk from Controlledseal.

“What is this?” He asked them. “What lies there within the earth? Do you know?”

Sibrek and Astesh, the capybaras, looked a bit uneasy and shuddered, making some warding signs, but the llama man, Osod stepped forward and walked casually next to Tanzul, pointing at the entry and saying, “It is a tomb. Not an ordinary one, but one containing the late queen of the Bent Spear and other royalty who all died on the same day.”

Tanzul was a bit surprised. He had believed that dwarves built grand mausoleums of unparallelled architecture and beauty for their nobilty, but this, this looked very plain. Drab even.

“It looks so... Peasant-ish,” he said cautiously.

“Yes, that it perhaps does,” Osod said calmly and nodded. “It was built after something horrible happened in Controlledseal not so many a year ago. It is something the dwarves rather not remember--”

“Stop! Let us not sully our mood with the tale of it, please!” Sibrek yelled from behind. “It is perhaps a tale for another time. Let us move quickly away from this place of dark memory, if you will.”




Up the claystone slopes of the Walls of Spray the road took them, the scenery changing into a barren place of rock and cliff. There was not much other wildlife than the occasional pack of hoary marmots that fled in a hurry when they saw the travelers. The air was fresh, crisp and the sun still shone, though a biting cold gale blew in the heights.

It was good that the merchants had thought of getting proper travel garb for the adventurers.



As the sun headed to the west bringing the first day of travel close to its end, the scenery changed once more. They had come down from the rocky parts and grass and heather grew around the path, the mountain sloping down to the west in gentle waves of green.

Their journey so far had not gone entirely without incident: a couple of malnourished coyotes desperate for a meal tried to attack them.




The attack fared poorly for the coyotes and they were swiftly put down. Shockingly, the merchant Sibrek showed exceptional brutality as he joined in with his bare paws, gouging the eyes of one of the coyotes and thus ending its miserable existence in a spray of blood and cracking skull.







The party reached the lowest west slopes when the sun began to set. With the light fading, the air became much colder: breath came out in wisps of cloud, frost formed on grass and a thin ice sheet began to cover the highland pond at which they decided to make camp.



As they roasted some coyote meat at the fire, Tanzul began carving some of the bones into a figurine, listening to what the others were chatting about. He let his mind wander with nothing particular in mind and let his paws create whatever came out.




“Ah, it's a fine weather this evening,” Maloy said, breathing in deeply of the cold air. “Times like these makes you really appreciate the wilds -- just look at the stars flickering!”

“Yes, the beauty of the stars! Such a wonder they are!” Sibrek said clasping his hands and sighing relievedly. “There in the night sky the Great Doe Ôsed watches over us, soothing us with the twinkling souls of the Blessed Ones, shielding us from the Darkness.”

“Ôsed? Who's that?” Coni asked, raising her gaze from the flickering camp fire, turning to look at the capybara man merchant.

“You don't know?” Sibrek said genuinely surprised. Astesh, too, looked at the hamster woman in disbelief, as if she was an ignorant child. “Why, I am no priest nor capybara man of holiness, but if you do not know of the Rabbit in the Sky, that must be changed. After all, She is the Mother of the World, and -- this is very important -- she is the one who led the capybara folk of the South to found Waterlures!”




Sibrek stood up, coughed into his paw a couple of times, enjoying the moment when all eyes turned upon him.

“Ôsed, the doe rabbit, ahem,” he began his sermon not at all so well. “Why the Great Doe, she is the Goddess. Yes, the one who made the world, birthed it. You know, created and all. The stars, the sky, and, um, the weather, yes... She is basically everything around us. Everything we call nature: the sun, the day, the light -- even the mountains are hers!”

Edzul, who was listening with much interest, let out a small scoffing sound at the mention of mountains. As if the mountains were something made by a rabbit! Such a ridiculous claim.

“It is beloved Ôsed who fends off the Dark,” Astesh joined in Sibrek's preaching. “She stays the Prince away. She made the Pact that keeps Abod at bay -- the Flail may bring our bodies to an end, but our souls are out of her reach. And to the Skies we then rise as bright stars, shining hope on those still in the mortal world, dancing around Ôsed's everlight.”

“True, true,” Sibrek nodded with much vigor. “Without Ôsed there would be nothing of beauty in Minbazkar. This would be a dreary and dead place.”

“There's some likeness to Monal there, I think,” Maloy said. “The Fisherman Monal is. God of fish and fishing from where I come from. He keeps us fed, the fish on our table, even though Epo the Washed, Salmon Lord of the Oceans, would try to deny us of them after listening to the lies spun by Shoneth the Hellish...”

“Monal? I do not think I've heard of that one,” Tanzul joined the conversation. He stopped carving the bone, which had begun to take the form of a dwarf figurine. “At my home, it is Sas who is the Great Fisher, the Angler King.”

“Hum, we all have our own gods, then,” Maloy turned to the fox man, his floppy nose bobbing. “The world is a place of much wonder. You have not but only look around you: the trees, the grasses, the birds of the sky and the animals of the land...”

The discussion then continued into differences and similarities between various religions and deities that the travelers worshipped or knew. Like the llama man Osod philosophized, “The diversity of our Gods is like the manifold colors of the rainbows of Mater.” Mostly talk went in good spirit, but there were some disagreements and moments of raised voices, which Osod calmed swiftly with his monkly ponderings. It was late night when it ended and the last ones finally went to sleep.





9th of Felsite, 383

At first light the journey continued and before the sun was fully risen, they came to a crossroads with thick and tall pecan tree growing in the middle. On the south side of the road atop a slope they saw low walls of limestone.



They walked up the hill to the wall, but the gates were barred. The hedgehog man Pife knew that this place was Lestusothsin, Rabbitbowed, a way temple dedicated Ôsed. It was curious that entry was shut for such places were supposed to welcome visitors and offer shelter for the traveler. It was silent and still. No guard was seen on the walls nor nothing heard from within.

Sibrek and Astesh, along with Pife, were a bit disappointed that they could not go and pay their respects at the temple and give offerings to the monks.




The fair weather of the early morning did not last long and soon after they had passed the way temple the sky darkened and it began to rain. All soaked and drenched they continued their journey, not speaking much to each other, as wet fur, feathers or beard made moods dour and grumpy.



Before midday they had covered a fair distance over the Steppe of Trades. The scenerey had changed much and looking across the green lightly wooded plains and slopes to the west they caught a glimpse of the sands of the Dune of Haze. In the south they could see signs of civilization: farmsteads, fields and a clusters of houses forming a hamlet in the south-east, and in the south-west -- where the road led -- they saw what looked to be a town.

“T-t-that is D-D-Deadhollow,” Pife stammered pointing at the hamlet. “Despite it's n-n-name it is just an ordinary village. I believe it's part of the C-C-Cobalt Empire.”

He then looked at the town, swallowed, before continuing, “That is Unitebrands. W-w-we do not want to g-g-go there...”

“How so? What's wrong with it?” Tanzul asked.

“The d-d-dead walk there...” Pife squeaked, clearly frightened even though the town was a fair distance away. He then with a hushed voice, stammering less than usual, recounted how spies had infiltrated Unitebrands and paved way for the Prestigious Glazes to take over it during the great wars that swept the land long ago. Since then it had been under their rule.

“Huh. Necromancers,” Galel said, squinting his eyes as he peered towards the town and rubbed his beak. “So their grip extends this far then.”

Sibrek and Astesh waved their paws making signs to ward off evil.




They headed to the village of Deadhollow, deciding to pass through. As they walked along the dirt road that wound through it, they noticed the fields were untended and barren, many houses were in ruins and the rest looked abandoned.




Next to one abandoned house was a statue and an altar with a die on it. They would not have paid much attention to it, but Edzul the Silent stopped at it, observing it carefully. It depicted a human with fancy garb and many pouches of coins on his belt. It was Owba the North, the god of trade from the Distant Confederations.

Edzul gestured and fluttered his hands frantically at the statue, waited, then nodded, waved some more, waited once again -- only then to shake his head and make a tsk-tsk sound before turning away. It was as if he was having a wordless conversation with the statue.




From the abandoned village of Deadhollow they headed south among less treaded paths, following streams and routes that looked best suited for travel. Their hope was to cross the Steppe of Trades and reach the wider river cutting across it before the end of the day.



Across the open fields of swaying grass they walked, taking in the beauty of lone cherry trees in blossom, and passing larger and smaller boulders of limestone scattered here and there -- it was as if it had been a stone-hurling range for titans and giants from a time before time.

The sky had cleared when they left Deadhollow and the sun was heading swiftly to the west. It was unlikely they would make it as far this day as they hoped.




At the edge of the Swamps of Noiselessness they stopped at a large clear spring encircled by willows. The water seeped and branched through thick mossy ground and formed the beginnings of a brook. The water was fresh and ice cold -- a good place to refresh oneself and fill the waterskins.



Night began to fall after some more travel, but they were still not at the river. They were, however, walking along the banks of a stream that flowed into it. They would make it there early in the morrow. Now it was time to search for a place to make camp.






It was a cold evening with a clear sky, the stars once again twinkling their light above. The travelers huddled around their campfire for warmth. The flames flickered and wood crackled under the canopy of a cherry tree, surrounded by dense grasses moving and rustling in the breeze.



“It is fortunate we have not run into anything worse than hungry coyotes,” Astesh the capybara woman said to Galel. “And I pray to Ôsed it stays that way. The Dignified Swamps are not too far to the west from here, and it is said that the minotaur -- a terrible man-bull -- Ared Cyclonechampion the Outrageous makes his lair somewhere within the dismal bogs.”

“T-t-those swamps are lands fought over b-b-by several kingdoms,” Pife added in.



“It would be a great service for all good peoples if these creatures of the Night stalked these lands no longer,” Maloy said, peering towards the west. “I know from legend of the crooked man Sor Sabletombs, a twisted abomination stalking the lands from the Just Union to the Distant Confederations. He comes in the dark of night to homesteads, capturing the unexpecting and taking them away with him... It is said he twists them into the likes of him.”

“It would be a deed worthy of heroes to put an end to such beings,” Galel said in agreement.

The llama man Osod then rose up, looked at the others and spoke, “It is true that these beings, they cause much woe and suffering... Yet we must not forget that they, too, are created by the Gods to walk these lands. What their purpose is may be unclear to us and seem cruel and evil. But remember, there can be no Light without Darkness.”

There was a bit of confusion and murmuring, but silence soon fell as none were feeling like contesting the llama man monk's words. Instead talk split into several smaller discussions and chattering sounded around the fire.




Before sleep, Coni stood up and asked if they should sing a song or two. Everyone agreed to it, and Coni cleared her voice and began singing 'My Friend Shanks'. Her singing was a bit rusty and she fumbled in the beginnings, but as the song progressed, she got a hang of it and all in all it was a decent performance.

The simulation of instruments by the others was terrible, however.





10th of Felsite, 383

It was still early morning when they caught glimpse of the river in the south and signs of civilization in the south-east along its banks. There was said to be bridge that crossed the river somewhere west of where the stream they were following joined the river.

And at the bridge there should be a fortified inn: a place where they could replenish their supplies and have a drink or two.




When they reached the wide river, they followed it downstream. Ahead they already saw the limestone walls of the inn and the large main structure looming above them. From within the walls they heard the clucking of chickens and snorting of pigs -- this place, at least, was not abandoned.




The inn rose up high, a causeway leading up to its entry guarded by statues. Edzul seeing them, pointed excitedly at the stone figures, but when none seemed so keen on it, his face turned sour. He then made a few swift gestures, crossed his arms across his chest and puffed a few times.

“What's his problem?” Galel asked Pife motioning towards the dwarf with his head.

“I-I think he means that we should p-p-pay more attention to w-w-what he says,” the hedgehog man replied with an unsure voice.

“Well, come on now, let's get going up then,” Tanzul, noticing the exchange, said to the two as he headed for the ramp.



Up they walked to sturdy double doors of oak, pushed them open and stepped into the dimly lit inn. A large, high hall opened before them with pillars of stone in the middle, tables and booths were set on the sides and stairs led up to a railed platform with more tables.

A homely and loud voice rang from within to greet them, “Welcome, welcome! Come in travelers, take a seat and enjoy a drink! We rarely get guests this time of the year in Hushedfins and the Familial Brim!”

=====

A bit of a travel montage episode with nothing much happening and lots of discussions.

To compensate that I made some special extra art to accompany it! (Disclaimer: Artistic liberties taken in character equipment and animal person sizes.)

We actually saw quite a number of adventure camps I've made along the way there: there was the tomb in the stone (which we didn't visit; I actually "buried" there all the dead that Avolition assassinated in Controlledseal during their turn -- got annoyed by the corpses laying around), the way temple (which we didn't visit either), and then finally the fortified inn (which we are visiting!).

Since there's not so much happening in the world outside our actions, I'm going to make a bit more stuff up by myself (which'll probably contradict Legends eventually). Just thought to mention. Hope you guys don't mind.

Next update at some point. No idea if I'll have a break or not.

[Maloy]

The convenient thing is that even the real me loves cold weather...now if only I could get such a majestic nose

[brewer bob]

Part XIII:
Pig's Milk




10th of Felsite, 383

“Quenir was smiling upon you then,” the innkeeper said to the travelers sitting in the booth as they told of their journey. “Why in the name of Nubpo did you come through Deadhollows?”

Papos Squeezedpunches was the keeper of Hushedfins, these fortified grounds, and proprietor of the Familial Brim, the inn proper. He was a muscular human, with thick sideburns and short reddish brown hair with a slightly receding hairline. When the odd group of travelers had arrived he had immediately directed them to a table and brought them beer to drink, eager to hear stories from the outside world.

“Why? It is not safe?” Maloy the elephant seal man looked up from his mug.

“Oh no, not at all... But not the most dangerous of places. It turned foul decades ago, but was abandoned quite recently,” Papos continued, wiping his hands on his apron. “Like so many other villages in these troubled lands, Deadhollow was slowly dying. Everyone was moving to look for a better life away from the shadow cast by Unitebrands when a necromancer came to the town. Now, at first, the locals thought of him as but an old eccentric man. Not long did it take after his arrival that word spread of odd things happening at the abandoned keep. And not long after that, queer folk began visiting -- you know, the types you don't want to run into alone in the woods. The ones honest, decent people want nothing to do with. Bandits and such, obviously. Bullying, extortion, 'protection money'... Then people began disappearing. Whispers and rumors of vile deeds... Soon the true nature of the 'old man' was revealed: he was a necromancer.”

“Oh d-d-dear, oh dear me...” Pife piped out and began rummaging through his pack, pulling out papers and writing material. As he began hastily scribbling notes, he muttered aloud, “I must get all this down... The records w-w-were all wrong... Such dreadful things could happen!”

“Eh, it seems there's necromancers everywhere here,” Galel said with his beak all foamy. “Either that or then empty villages in ruins.”

“Ah, you are unfortunately right, my friend ostrich!” Papos sighed and leaned on the end of the large oaken table. “We can hardly call ourselves a kingdom anymore. Though lawgiver we still have, there is barely anything left of the Just Union. We never were a large force to begin with, so it is no wonder that when the Wars began, we were among the first to falter and fail.”

“But did not that all happen a long time ago? Surely there has been time to rebuild?” Tanzul asked the innkeeper, curious to know more of these lands. No matter how many times he heard stories of the wars and rampaging undead, he could not remember the timelines nor understand why is everything still in ruins. “Forgive my ignorance, I am from a place untouched by the evil of the sorcerors -- though we know of them.”

“Alas, when kingdoms fall, they tend not to rise. When lawlessness descends on the lands, petty lords of lesser virtue bicker for power. Hardly better than bandit chiefs, they care not for the land, its people nor legacy of ancient past. Rebuilding is no concern of their when all they care for is riches and power. So it is that we have remained a land of little significance in the greater picture of things,” Papos frowned.

“And so the evil keeps its hold,” Maloy added with a nod, his nose wobbling. He then shifted awkwardly in his chair, trying to get into a more comfortable position -- it is not easy for one with flippers to sit on human seating -- before continuing, “Has there not been anyone to challenge the necromancers?”

“Oh, plenty. All failed. For how does one fight that which is already dead, which becomes stronger with every death?” The innkeeper kept going, eager to see new faces and just talk. “However, a most peculiar thing happened some ten years ago: a band of unknown adventurers went to the tower of Finderblunts... And they slew the necromancers residing there! Now, no details of the story are known, or who they even were, but rumor has it that they were animal people -- like you!”

“Some tales have reached Controlledseal telling of strangers from distant lands coming and battling the evil, then disappearing,” Sibrek popped in. “Most thought of them as mere inventions of one with a wild imagination... This is new to me that it indeed happened.”

“Well, whoever they were, apparently they didn't get all the necromancers,” Galel scoffed from within his mug.

“Unfortunately true again! The sorcerors of Finderblunts were from a different group than the ones who have wrought most pain and suffering... Yet, without such a heroic deed, there would not be this grand inn to visit,” Papos motioned widely with his hand at the large hall they were in, visibly proud of the structure.

“Things turned calmer after. Folk got braver. Stopped fearing their own shadows and came out. And so eventually we built this place, under the protection and backing of baron Puja Paleshove of Castle Autumnalblots. We have been open only for a few years, and the walls we finished just before the snow fell this winter... Ah, but I am getting carried away now and test your patience. Your meals should arrive soon enough. You'll be in for a treat, I'll say: Anir is the best cook in these lands -- his roasted pheasant fit for a king's feast,” Papos beamed with pride, then looked around him, bent as far over the table as he could and whispered while shielding his mouth with his hand, “But between us, he is a very sour and unlikable fellow. And he makes a horrible mess.”




As the rest continued their discussion with the innkeep while waiting for their meals, Galel stepped out. He was not interested in the 'skulking vermin' that had made old abandoned towns and hamlets their home, nor the 'people of questionable character' who traded illicit goods with the minions of the necromancers in Unitebrands. He wasn't especially interested in the tomb of some old dead king just south the bridge where traveling merchants used to make camp before the inn was built.

No, what he wanted was this journey to be over with and their job as hired guards done well. He wasn't in this for a history lecture or lesson in geography.

Galel stretched his feathery arms, twirled his shoulders a couple of times and strutted down the ramp. He was curious about the wooden stairs leading to a door below the main entrance he had seen. It was something that had for some reason caught his interest when they entered inn grounds.

“Mind if I join?” The jolly voice of Coni rang from behind. Galel turned around and sure enough, the hamster woman was hopping gaily down the ramp to him.

“Couldn't handle all that blathering either, eh?” Galel grinned.

“No, not really,” Coni replied with a coy smile. “I'm bored and tired of all the talk. I need some excitement! Some exploring!”

“Well... I was just about to head up yonder and see what's with that door,” Galel pointed at the top of the stairs. “I bet it's off-limits for visitors.”



Just as Galel was about to try the door, they heard sounds from inside: the banging of pots, something been thrown and then clattering followed by a lot of angry yelling and cussing.

“Ooh, now this is exciting!” Coni smiled gleefully as Galel pushed the door open slowly, as quietly as possible.



Galel opened the door just enough for him to stick his head and long neck through the gap and peer in. Coni followed suit squeezing her head through the opening, her round cheeks plopping and hair all fluffing once through.

A strong odor of cooked vegetables and meats mixed with not-so-fresh foods and the spicy smell of boiling wort wafted into their nostrils. In front of them opened a large kitchen area with a wide fireplace on the right side. Several cauldrons of varying sizes were boiling on the fire and a short bald human with his back turned on the two was stirring them, throwing more spices and ingredients into them once in a while.

Next to the cooking area and its tables in the corner was some kind of a small brewery with its own fire going. A wide vat was boiling on it and a long staff leaned against it. An angry looking man with a stubble of a beard and a shiny bald head was facing a dwarf lady who stood stiff and looked all frozen.

A cat looked and hissed at the two from behind a barrel, its back arched and tail hair standing.

“You scared the cat,” the dwarf blurted out with a shaky voice.

“Scared the cat!? SCARED THE CAT!? You've ruined my best barrel with your dairy antics and all you have to say is that I scared the cat,” The man yelled at the dwarf's face with such force that one could almost feel a strong gale blowing. “You stupid, stupid swineherd, have you ever not thought that everything here isn't for your outrageous cheese experiments! Now look! Look around you! Look on the floor!”





The man pointed at the floor which had spatterings and smears of a creamy liquid on it.

“It's just a wee bit of milk, Wimad, sir,” the dwarf replied, trying to gather her courage to confront the brewer. “No harm's ever come of it to nobody, sir.”

“No harm!?” Wimad, the brewer, looked at the dwarf confounded as he rubbed his forehead. “No harm! I bloody slipped on it and hit my head just a moment ago! Almost knocked the mash tun over!“

“Uh, I can...” The dwarf managed to get out.

“I don't want to hear it, you arse-fed muckroot!  You bloody muttonhead of a dwarf... Milking a pig in the kitchen... Pig's milk... And out of all possible buckets and pots, you store the bloody milk in MY BEST BARREL!”

“It's not bloody--,” The dwarf tried to protest.

“OH SHUT YOUR TRAP FOR ONCE YOU TICKLE-BRAINED LOUT!” The brewer screamed. The cat behind the barrel arched its back even more and hissed louder.

“'Ey! Calm down over there! Ease up with Idar, will you?” The cook yelled from the fireplace. “I mean, she's got a point. Sort of. That a small amount of milk don't hurt no one. It's not like there ain't no potato peels, onion skins or even rotten grain left over from your brewings lying around the floor for one to slip on.”

“Oh come now,” Wimad rolled his eyes as he turned to face the cook. “You can't possibly side with the stunted pig-loving scut in this one, Anir? She's practically ruined my barrel -- The Barrel. It's all sticky and smelly now.”

“Yes, yes, I heard it the first time,” Anir, the cook, sighed loudly and frustratedly. “Just send her off to fetch water from the river and wash it. It'll be good as new after a good rinsing and scrubbing. Trust me.”

“Whatever, then. Let the dim-witted sot get away. Again.” The brewer said with a voice of disapproval, but he didn't begin arguing. He turned back to the dwarf who was still standing stiff like a stick and all silent. “Well, you heard the man then. What are you waiting for, you saddle-goose? Fetch a pail of water. Scrub the barrel. Clean the floor! Off you go now, you milk-livered pignut!”

If a beak could have a smile wider than a melon, it would not be enough to describe the breadth of Galel's smile. He was thrilled and excited by this exchange he witnessed, making mental notes of the insults hurled at the dwarf. Yes, this was much, much more pleasing than listening to stories of how some old fop back in the day became king or what ailed the sheep of the neighboring village three and a half months back... Well, the others didn't exactly discuss such things back above, but they might just as well have.



The dwarf turned to head for the door and the brewer returned to his vat, grabbing the staff and beginning to stir as he grumbled and cussed under his breath. As the dwarf walked towards the door, she noticed Galel standing in the doorway -- which was now wide open -- and Coni peeking from behind.

“Hey! You're not supposed to be here!” Idar, the dwarf, said surprised and caught off-guard by the onlookers.

“What?“ Anir the cook said as he looked over his shoulder, noticed the two, then turned around quickly, raising his ladle up high. “Who're you? What're you doing in my kitchen?”

“Ah... We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere,” Galel explained hastily as the dwarf waltzed past him with speed, grabbing a copper bucket from the floor.

“Indeed you have!” The cook puffed with disapproval as the dwarf vanished out the door.

“Look, we're just visitors stretching our legs,” Coni hopped in, putting on the most innocent of faces she could muster. “And we heard some commotion, banging and such. Thought that maybe someone was need of help or something.”

“Well... There's no harm in that,” The cook nodded, lowering the ladle. “But there's no need for help here, unless you want to help Idar scrub some floors and barrels, that is... I'm not keen on outsiders coming into the kitchen, sticking their noses -- beaks -- in my cookings.” He continued, glancing worriedly at the table closest to the door.

“You'd better head back up: the bloated tubers'll take some time still to cook, and, ah, the pheasant isn't roasted proper yet.” He said looking at Galel and Coni warily.



Galel looked at the table. There was plucked poultry on it and a dead seagull with feathers and all still on it, and a bronze meat cleaver leaning against one of the table legs. No sign of pheasant, though.

“Pheasant. Right...” The ostrich man said as he looked suspiciously at the unprepared meat. “Awfully small pheasants you have here.”

“What? You finding fault in my cookings and ingredients?” The cook said with anger clearly growing and ladle beginning to wave menacingly. “That does it then! You get out of my kitchen now! Out! OUT YOU TWO! NOW!”




Galel and Coni walked across the inn's grounds, its grass dotted with flowers in bloom. They were headed to the river where the dwarf had gone.

“That was mighty mean from the brewer,” Coni said frowning. “And from the cook, too, to kick us out like that.”

“What?” Galel said startledly as he snapped out from his thoughts. “No, I mean yes. In a sense, sure. But I'd be angry too if I'd fall over on some spilled hippo's milk or whatever... And, to be fair, we weren't exactly supposed to be in there.”

“Still, that dwarf looked so crushed,” Coni continued. “Utterly devastated and shaken.”

“Oh yes, and my, oh my, what words that brewer used!” Galel chuckled to himself thinking of all the insults.

Coni glared at Galel and didn't reply.

They crossed a wide sturdy limestone bridge leading across the river. The dwarf was on the other side, sitting at the river bank with the bucket next to her.




As the hamster woman and ostrich man walked to Idar the dwarf, she was with her head bent down, cradling her legs with her arms and sobbing to herself. As the shadows of the two fell on her, she turned to look up, her eyes all misty from tears, which she quickly tried to wipe away.

“I got a piece of --sniff-- grass in my eye,” she explained, blinking her moisty eyes, her nose all runny. “Got hay fever, too, --sniff-- I think.”

“It's alright, you doing fine there?” Coni said, putting her paw gently on the dwarf's shoulder. “I can help you with the water. Here, let me fill the bucket.”



And so the copper bucket was filled by the hamster woman. The dwarf was surprised by this unexpected kindness, stood up and wiped the grass and dirt from her robe's hem and behind.

“Why thank you, um... Miss...?” She said to Coni, a little bit of a smile growing on her face.

“Coni. Just Coni,” the hamster woman replied. “And this is Galel, my friend. He likes to bicker, so don't mind him. He's a pest.”

“Such a pleasure, ma'am,” Galel bowed exaggeratedly deeply with a trail of sarcasm in his voice.

“It's just that people have no respect these days. Absolutely no respect!” The dwarf then said, forgetting all her sadness. “Calling me a swineherd and what-not nonsensical names. Swineherd! Of all things! Can you believe that?”

“Well, yes, I ca--ow!--,” Galel began to make a remark, but was cut short by Coni jabbing her elbow in his gut.

“Ah, there were days when cheesemakers were held in the highest regard. The master curdlers of the mountain halls valued even more so than the forge masters. The butteries' pillars gilded with gold and platinum, the molds crafted of the finest of tunnel tube and inlaid with silver and rubies...” The dwarf said dreamily and full of wonder, motioning with her hand to a distant time and place.

“Oh, those were the days of glory,” she sighed. “If only I had lived then. To experience it. All the range of divine smells of the Grand Cheese Bazaar: the faint and delicate pungent ones, the buttery and fatty ones, the yeasty and nutty ones laced with the aroma of a dwarf's most beloved socks...”

“I'm sure you'll find the respect you deserve,” Coni said encouragingly, trying hard not to think of the stench of old dwarf socks. “The love of cheese is a...a... acquired taste. Yes. Some just don't, um, understand it. Maybe you just have to find the proper place?”

“Say! You're right you are there!” Idar turned to look at the hamster woman with her eyes now shining. “Was it... Uh, Coni...? Did I get it right? I'm not all so good with names not of dwarf-make.”

“M-hm,” Coni nodded. Galel sighed impatiently, looking back at the inn, tapping his foot on the grass.

“Say, with my skill, I'm bound to find the proper appreciation. These long-legs here -- no offense ostrich, I mean the humans with it -- have no idea of the noble art of caseiculture. They're below such matters of higher taste, the lowliest of low. Ignorant witless serfs, the peasantest of peasants,” Idar said, now brimming with a newfound confidence. “You know what? You did me a great service, you two. Now, I don't like normally taking advice, but what you said stirred something in me... Something I've been wanting to do for quite some time now.”

“What's that?” Galel turned to the dwarf.

“I'll head back there and set things straight. Tell them all that it's over. Papos can keep his sodding inn with almost no customers, Wimad pretend to be a master brewer instead of the lousy alewife he is, and Anir can call scraps of seagull meat kingly pheasant roast all he wants,” A boldness and defiance now echoed in the dwarf's voice. “Oh, I'll show them. I'm done with this place.”

She then grabbed the bucket and marched with long strides and determination back to the inn, leaving Galel and Coni dumbstruck on the river bank.

“Huh. I wasn't expecting that...” Coni finally said after a moment of awkward silence.

“Dwarves,” Galel shrugged his shoulders. “You never know what goes on in their thick heads.”




Galel and Coni returned to the inn's main hall to find that discussions with Papos were still going on, Pife scribbling notes as fast as he could, his pen almost smoking. There was more talk of local history (of which much was probably only legend, Papos said) and what lay between here and Waterlures. Sibrek asked about trade and what goods the merchants going to the capybara man town were most set on, and upon learning that quality second hand clothing from the dyeries and tailors of Waterlures was a much desired article by the fripperers, he promised to make sure such things were delivered in large quantities.

At some point Papos had himself excused after Alir, a barmaid who they had exchanged a few words with along the day, came to him whispering something with a very troubled look. Papos said he had to 'attend to some problems -- minor issues only, mind you -- with the kitchen staff.' When he returned, he was clearly trying to keep up a smile to hide a worried face, wiping beads of sweat now and then off his brow while keeping the guests company.

The meal arrived quite late and left much to be desired. It was hardly the advertised 'king's feast', or then there was much for the people of the Just Union to learn in the culinary arts. Galel and Coni didn't touch the 'pheasant' roast, but the others ate it eagerly. “This is quite good, actually. A bit tough and sinewy perhaps, but good,” Maloy said of it. The Longland beer served with it was stale and watery, the tuber stew more of a slop with slimy lumps in it than proper food, and the bread was old and moldy. The cheese, though, it was good -- the best cheese they had ever had (which, admittedly, didn't require that much in the case of some, like Dimbulb).

Eventually time came to leave and say goodbyes. Many more hours had passed than they had expected, and evening was approaching. The innkeeper asked were they not sure they didn't want to stay over the night, but the travelers insisted that they had to continue on their journey. They thanked for the hospitality, food and company, Sibrek and Astesh paying an extra amount of coin for all the trouble, promising to put in a good word for the establishment. Papos' eyes gleamed at the sight of the coins saying “It was fate that guided you here, praised be Nubpo,” and welcomed them to come again for a visit the next time they were around.





As the group was walking towards the bridge to cross the river, a voice yelled from behind them.

“Hey! Wait a moment, will you?”

They recognized the voice and as they turned around, sure enough, it was Idar the dwarf who was jogging after them. She carried a pack, had changed clothes to something more travel-suited and had a copper mace strapped to her belt.

“You folks're headed south, right?” The dwarf asked as she came to them. “So am I.”

“Yes, we are... What did you have on your mind?” Tanzul replied with surprise and hesitation. There were general confused looks among the group, except Galel and Coni looked at each other knowingly and sighed. It was obvious to them what was happening.

“Well... We all know the roads can be dangerous. Nasty business going all alone, bogeymen and such,” Idar began, trying to not sound desperate. “I've been, um, wanting to travel south for a while now, yes. Just didn't want to do the trek all alone, so I've waited for the summer caravans to come through and join them...”

“Go on,” Tanzul said.

“Well, so I was thinking there, just as you were leaving, 'hey these folks're going the same way the merchants will, but only earlier',” the dwarf continued explaining.

“So you thought that maybe you could join us?” Sibrek hopped in, taking measure of the dwarf and doing some risk calculations in his head.

“Why, yes... I mean, if it would be no problem...,” Idar wavered a bit as she saw some furrowed brows among the travelers and Sibrek eyeing her intently. She then sighed, cleared her throat and continued, “Look, thing is that I don't get along in here -- I hate it, it's awful! -- and the sooner I get away, the better. I can fend well enough for myself, so you won't have to be looking out for me.” She patted her mace.

“I'll pay even,” She added before anyone had time to reply. “Dwarven coin, if it makes a difference.”

“I see no problem in it,” Maloy said shrugging his shoulders. “One more among us won't hurt at all. Besides, I'd be glad to hear more about you dwarven lot and your customs.”

There was murmuring and nods of acceptance. Nobody objected to it, though Galel's expression said that he was irresolute on the matter. Coni, on the other hand, was delighted that the dwarf came along.

And so Idar the Cheesemaker joined the group on their journey to the South.

=====

So, even more talking this time and practically no walking.

Was just messing around with the adventure camp inn and had fun role-playing all the characters there and making up these scenes. Then I noticed the write-up is starting to get quite long, so I decided better not to continue any further and just post this kind of one then.

We'll eventually get to Waterlures.

--
Edit. Here's a Stonesense screenshot of the inn grounds:

Spoiler: Hushedfins (click to show/hide)

[brewer bob]

Just an update on the situation.

Currently working on the next writeup, though progress has been slow. Haven't really been much in the mood to play, but been enjoying when I do.

I hope I'll have it done before next week, but that depends on what kind of flow I get into.

[AvolitionBrit]

Its always nice to read the updates and see how its going, no rush to play if you not feeling up to it and im more than happy to run the world of a bit again if you want.

Hope you are well!

[brewer bob]

Part XIV:
The Old Elf Lands




10th of Felsite, 383

The sun was heading to the west when the travelers crossed the bridge over the Rooters of Buttering, continuing their long journey to the South and Waterlures.



They had walked only a few dozen yards when they sighted a flock of rabbits grazing among the lush meadow-grass. Seeing the approaching group, the rabbits raised their ears and swiftly jolted away in different directions.

“It is a sign! A sign from Ôsed!” Astesh said clasping her hands in front of her chest.

“Blessed are we by Her presence, indeed!” Sibrek said with glee as the rabbits scurried away in alarm. “Oh Ôsed, Almighty in the Sky, thanked and praised you be for your guidance and protection on this journey of ours!”




They circled around the old tombs of Parchedblew where ancient law-givers of the Just Union were buried. The stories told by Papos of the place had made them wary and cautious of the place. One might never know if the taint of necromancy still lingered upon it or restless spirits stalked the surroundings.



The sun was low in the clear western sky as they followed Risenwheel, a brook bordering the Playfull Hill and the Steppe of Trades. In the southeast they caught glimpse of the towers of a fortified structure peeking above treetops. It was most likely Bridledsandaled, which had once been built by a powerful group of bandits according to Papos' legends. Whether it was still occupied by them, he knew not.

The travelers decided not to find out. The safety of the non-fighters was first, not heading off to do heroic deeds.





The setting sun painted the sky in vivid colors, turning from a fiery orange to purples and pinks. The group was at the outskirts of the Awe-Inspiring Forest, searching for a place to set camp before it was dark. A cold moist rose from the grass, seeping through their clothes -- a reminder that summer was still some ways off.




Tanzul made a fire from some dry fallen branches between a tall and thick highwood tree and a walnut tree, next to a pond with reeds growing on its banks. It was a good spot, sheltered from the cold wind that blew from the east that rustled the grass and leaves and bit through cloth.

“We may not have made much headway this day,” Maloy said as he threw a few larger pieces of wood into the fire. “But it was a pleasant stay at the inn. The pheasant roast -- though small it was -- itself made it a worthwile stop.”

“Hm, other than that, the meal was a bit of a disappointment, I'll have to say,” Sibrek said, his eyes locked on the dancing sparks and flames. “Yet, despite not being the best of meals, it was a nice change to what we have had on the road. A 'king's feast', certainly not, but satisfying enough it was, yes.”

“It was food and it filled us,” Osod, the llama man joined in. “One must learn to appreciate even the smallest of things the Gods put before us. There may come a day when one looks back at the stew and roast with yearning -- sustenance should not be taken for granted.”

“Of course it should not be taken for granted!” Idar scoffed. “Only a fool would think so!”

“There is no need for raised voices,” Osod turned to the dwarf calmly. “What one may think clear, may not be such at another time. Clarity is not given either, and temerity may lead to blindness.”



“Well, as long as one pays their respects to the Gods, one need not worry of hunger,” Idar continued, easing down her tone. “The Morning of Wind will see to it that the fields grow wheat, the bushes prickle berries and the hollows of Deler's peaks have an abundance of plump helmets. One just has to remember that she requires her due. Before planting: the Ceremony of Ash and the Rites of Seed and Sowing; in late Felsite -- not long from now -- the sacrificing of the largest of sprouts during the Dance of Beginning; the Festival of Cheese and Dimples in high summer; and all the regular offerings, daily prayers, and so on, so on...”

Osod looked patiently, waiting for Idar to continue.

“You remember these -- of course, the priests handle most of it -- and there'll be food. No doubt about it. But you neglect them, well, you can blame yourself,” the dwarf continued, stoking the fire with a stick. “The real catch is that there are all these nasty buggers of darker gods that like to mess things up. Break the order of things. Nökor the Dead Funeral of Tombs coming to wilt the plants when all should be well -- and not only plants, mind you, she'll come for anything living, torment them enough that they end their lives willingly... And as if she wouldn't be enough, there's a whole slew of others, like Bazsa the Sinful and the Hellish.”

“The Reviled Ones,” Maloy raised his head and said instinctively upon hearing the names. “Cursed be them for defiling these once pure lands.”

Idar paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. She tapped her foot on the ground nervously, not sure of where her train of thought was headed and she didn't like that. It made her feel frail and insecure.

“Ach, so you see, it is the bad ones you have to worry 'bout. They're the ones causing uncertainty,” she concluded rather anticlimactically.

“Hm. I see you agree with me then, in a manner,” Osod said stoically. The llama man's answer confused Idar. She did not get what the camelid was implying. Osod noticed Idar's baffled look and continued,  “It is like the Way of Mater: we can but follow the Rainbow when he shows it to us, we may guess what lies along the path when we walk under its many colors, but we may never know what awaits us at its end until our mortal bodies come to the end of their journey.”

“Well, I dunno about gods and such... Never been one for them, I guess,” Dimbulb, who was having real difficulties following the conversation, chipped in hesitantly. “I mean, all those rituals and such sound like an awful lot to do... I never done so, no prayer or such to those beings. I just been taking care of myself and my buddies, and, and most the time we got something to eat... I think it's enough.”

“And right you are there,” Osod turned to the hippo man smiling and put a hand up on his shoulder. “You, at least, have learned to appreciate the simple things.”






11th of Felsite, 383

Tanzul snapped awake to the whisper of Dimbulb and a nudging on his shoulder, “There's sumthin' moving there.”

It was dark, but the stars in the night and the still crackling fire gave some light. Galel was up, too, and Coni, waking folk up one by one.

Tanzul grabbed his spear as he got up and peered into the dark. It was hard to be certain, but it surely looked like something -- somethings -- were moving. Slowly approaching.

Like a predator stalking its prey.




Before the travelers could prepare their defenses a giant dingo jumped on Coni from within a dense thicket of bamboo with much barking and branches snapping.

Fortunately Coni had quick reflexes and she leapt aside, kicking the dingo hard in its paw as it streaked past her.

More giant dingoes rushed forth from the dark. There was a whole pack of them.

Battle began with everyone struggling for their lives, swinging here and there hoping to score a hit in the dark. It was a flurry of fur, tumbling bodies and flashing steel with lots of yelling, screaming and barking.



Idar yelled in pain as one of the giant dingoes bit her in the chest with its huge maw. The teeth dug in, tearing flesh and muscle. The dwarf felt a sticky warmth begin to grow in her side as she bashed her assaillant with her flail.



Tanzul lost focus for a moment when Idar screamed again after another vicious bite sunk in. Before he regained his composure and managed to pull his spear from the head of a dingo he had put down, another feral beast sprang on him, flinging him backwards and on the ground, stunned.




The world spun around Tanzul in a blur and all he could make out in his daze was Galel yelling, “AGH! You mangy bastard!” as one of the monsters tore into the ostrich man's wing. He heard it followed by Coni's shouting, “Hold on Galel! I'm coming!”



Galel screeched in pain as the dingo shook him by the wing. He could feel something vital being torn apart.



Poor Pife tried his best to dodge and avoid the fighting in his panic, but his jittery jumping only attracted the attention of one of the beasts. It rushed to him and bit him in the leg. It was fortunately not a deep wound, but enough to make Pife fall down.

Instinctively Pife punched at the creature as he fell, hitting it rather ineffectively, and then curled into a ball, hoping his spikes would discourage any further attacks.



“They're everywhere! They're trying to encircle us!” Maloy yelled as he struck his spear into the gut of one dingo. “Stand your ground! Don't let them separate us!”



The fight went on and on. It was hard to know how they were faring against the giant dingoes amidst all the chaos and darkness. The air was filled with snarls and yelps, thuds and cracks, yells and screams, and the occasional moan and whimper.

But despite the havoc it seemed that the heap of dingo corpses kept slowly growing, while all the adventurers were still up and breathing -- or at least not unconscious or dead.

Soon the last of the dingoes ran whimpering into the woods. As a couple of the party turned to run after it, Sibrek looked around worriedly and shouted, “Where's Astesh?”

Then they heard a scream from the opposite direction.



All turned to run towards the scream.

They came upon Astesh whose clothes were badly torn and soaked in blood. She was just rolling away from a dingo's onslaught as the first of her rescuers arrived, Idar's mace hitting the chubby beast in the belly with a mighty slap and Maloy's fist crushing its rear paw.

But the dingo put up a good fight -- it dodged and shook off blows, biting Idar nastily several times. It looked like things would turn bad for the dwarf until Maloy grabbed the monster by the scruff, bit it in the head, his majestic nose flopping over the dingo's eyes.




Maloy savaged the beast by shaking its head firmly in his mouth. There was crunching, squishing and spurting and finally a loud snap as the dingo fell to the ground with a whimper.



The elephant seal man then put it out of its misery with a spear to the head.





Osod was tending to the wounds of Idar who was in a bad shape. She was bleeding from multiple wounds around her body, the ones on her right side and gut looking the worst. She couldn't stand on her own and was propped against the trunk of the thick highwood tree at the camp. Her flail was on the grass next to her and she tried to still grip it, but her hold was weak and her breath was heavy.

“These bites go deep,” the llama man said with his calm voice, though it contained a hint of worry as he inspected the wounds closer.

“I'm a --wheeze-- mess, ain't I?” Idar wheezed and grimaced. “It hurts... It's --wheeze-- hard to breathe... Say, there isn't much hope for me, right?”

“You may still pull through. I do not think it is as bad as it looks,” Osod answered. “But I do not want to give any false hopes. I will look over you for the rest of the night, stay and keep company. If there is still breath in you when day dawns, the Gods have decided it was not your time...”

“Well, guess I got some --wheeze-- breathing to do then,” Idar said and tried to smile, but managed only a pained grin. “Not going to give Nökor the pleasure to get this --wheeze-- dwarf give up life, if I have a say...”

There were many wounded after the fight. It was by far the worst Tanzul and his group had faced during their journeys. Pife was in shock and unable to stand at the moment. His wounds, however, were not bad and would heal quick. Astesh was shaken and had lost her ability to grasp, but despite all her gruesome wounds she would live, though she would have to manage without her right ear.

And Galel... Galel was faint due to blood loss, his right wing hanging limp and all bloodied. It was unlikely the wing would heal, but then again, a ostrich man's wings are pretty pointless anyway: what use are wings that are unable to fly?





In the morning things looked brighter -- everyone was still alive and Idar breathed normally. A crutch was made for her from plum wood and the journey south continued in fair weather. If all went well they would arrive in Waterlures within a couple of days.




They reached the southern end of the Steppe of Trades, traveled through a small stretch of the Jungle of Intricacies and came to the Teal Swamps before morning was over.

The natural scenery in the forested wetlands was amazing: stretches of reeds still half-frozen, the icy bog ground crunching beneath their feet, brooks and streams joining in a gorge to form a larger waterway...

“Look at the beauty of these lands,” Maloy said as he took in the view.

“Yes, one can almost forget the dreadful events of last night,” Astesh replied as she watched a flock of birds fly over them. “And all the dangers that lurk in these wild lands... But we survived the beasts sent by the Prince. Ôsed guided our paws in the fight. The Rabbit protects us, and if She wills, we will reach Waterlures.”

“These used to b-b-be safer lands,” Pife chipped in knowledgeably, looking at his maps and assorted notes while they walked. “The elf rangers from Ula Tefe patrolled here, kept the paths safe for travelers. B-b-but that is long ago, and now this is a w-w-wild place. The Old Elf Lands they are called now in the Fence of Amusement.”





When they reached the Forest of Rooters, the air was much colder and snow still covered some parts of the land, while dark clouds had shrouded the sky. Snow fell gently from the sky and a thin mist rose from the forest growing thick with ginkgo trees and patches of bamboo.




“Ow!” Galel yelled as a branch slapped him in the face. “Watch it with the branches, Dimbulb!”

“Uh, sorry...” Dimbulb turned around, letting loose another branch he had pushed aside. It narrowly missed Galel's head. “There's so many branches in the way. I try, but...”

“It's alright, just be careful,” Galel grumbled as they continued their way through the forest.

Snow had turned to rain, the sky was clouded even darker and the mist was thicker deeper in the woods. Galel wrapped his cloak tighter around him as he eyed the surroundings, trying to get a glimpse of where the sun possibly was, but it was hard with the leaves and darkened sky. It was hard to know which way they were heading. And he had a feeling that the ones in front didn't know and were leading them in circles.

“Are you sure you know where we're going, Tanzul?” Galel raised his voice so that the fox man could hear him. “It seems like we're going in circles or zig-zagging all over the place.”

“Yes... No... I don't know!” Tanzul snapped irritatedly from the front. He had for some time known that he hadn't the faintest of ideas of which way was which. He just kept going on in the hopes the mist would lift soon. But it didn't.



Finally they stopped their wandering and took shelter from the rain under a knotty and bent ginkgo tree with a rather broad crown. It was cold, damp and they were all sogging wet -- and it didn't help that they appeared to be lost.

“So, we're lost then, huh?” Idar sighed deeply, leaning on her crutch.

“Yes, I'm afraid so,” Tanzul confessed. “Unless any of you have a better sense of direction...”

“None of us can tell the way in this weather. We'll just have to hope the sky clears soon,” Maloy tried to ease Tanzul's burden.

Edzul scoffed and grumbled with his arms crossed in front of him, kicking some dirt.

“Well... We could just pick a direction and see if the dice of Jalew favor us,” Coni suggested after a moment of silence.

“Hah!” Galel mocked. “As if we've had much luck during the last day. We'd just end up even more lost.”

“I'm afraid I have to agree with Galel. It's no use heading one way if we can't keep to it. It's hard keeping one's bearings in this weather,” Tanzul said. “No, I think we'll just have to wait.”

“Indeed, sometimes waiting is the best course of action,” Osod the llama man approved with a nod.

Edzul grumbled even more, leaned against a tree and slunk to the ground.





“It's only getting worse,” Galel said grouchily from under the canopy, water dripping from the leaves onto his head.

They had waited for some time, but the mist had turned into a fog, reducing visibility even more, and the rain kept pouring and pouring. If possible, the travelers were even more wet and they were shivering due to the cold.

“Ôsed must have a reason why the weather is like it is,” Sibrek tried desperately to find a positive aspect to all this, but had difficulties believing his own words. “Though, it is said that She can be a bit of a trickster sometimes. Perhaps this is one of those days...” He sighed and continued, “Since there is nothing else we can do but wait, some semblance of shelter would do no harm...”

“The ways of Nature are unpredictable,” Maloy said. “All this has a part in the Cycle -- we may not like it, but it is how it is... This fog, it reminds me of my life at the coast. We had often these great thick fogs there. The air was all white and hazy, obscuring the surroundings -- you could barely see the ground in the thickest of them. It could be a bit disconcerting at first, but then you heard the lapping of waves against the shore, distant cries of seagulls somewhere, and the damp air carried with it a scent of brine and seaweed. Everything might have looked alien, but you knew you were home.”

“That does not sound bad,” Sibrek said. “It actually sounds quite beautiful and calming, in a way.”

“Yes, that it was. And even this fog is so in a sense, though, there is something unnerving about its stillness. It is a bit... Sinister, perhaps?” Maloy said as he looked around the ghostly-grey surroundings. “Yet, there despite its eeriness, there is a certain beauty to it. One can not deny it.”

Edzul threw his arms up in the air at Maloy's words, gave a sharp huff and motioned furiously at the elephant seal man.

“I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch it,” Maloy frowned, trying to understand the dwarf. He turned to the hedgehog man and said, “Could you help, Pife?”

“Uh... Yes...?” Pife replied nervously and gulped. He understood very well what the Silent had said and didn't like the idea of having to translate it. However, he could hardly refuse, but he could change the meaning of the dwarf's word... “H-h-he said that 'yes, it is pretty', he agrees very much to it...”

Edzul looked angrily at the hedgehog man, puffed, his face all red and waved his hands even more frantically, «What!? That's not at all what I said, you miserable spineless pincushion! Now do your job and tell that sack-nosed blob of lard what I really said or you'll regret it!»

“You sure? I don't think that's quite what he meant,” Maloy furrowed his brow and twitched his big nose.

“Well... Um... It's... Uh... He...” Pife had difficulties forming words and shifted awkwardly. After a while he straightened himself and spoke, “Now, t-t-these are his words, n-n-not mine... Remember that... Ok, ok, here we go... «Can't deny it!? Why, I'll not just deny it, I'll curse the whole of nature! I'm starting to be sick and tired of all the 'nature this and that' babbling and bunny worshipping business of you lot. 'Oh, it's the Gods' will' and 'there's a reason' -- what a load of bollocks! Not everything has a bloody divine purpose, for cryin' out loud!»”

Sibrek and Astesh clutched their chests and gasped at the dwarf's slanderous words.

Maloy turned to face Edzul who held a tuft of grass in his hand. He was slapping it against his palm agitatedly. Pife whimpered and fidgeted when Edzul continued his tirade, “«What use is all this greenery around us? It's just getting in our way, whipping us in our faces, trying to crush our spirits, to drown us, maim us -- its doing its best to kill us or lead us astray all the time! To the Hells with it all, I say! All this nonsensical praise and prattle sounds like the demented talk of some knife-eared tree-loving elf!»”

“Is that so? And might I ask what is wrong with elf talk or loving trees?” The elephant seal man confronted the dwarf.

Edzul steamed as his hands began to signal his next lines, and again Pife translated, gulping, whimpering, squirming and letting out a pitiful squeak out once in a while (and many a 'oh dear'). “«Can't trust an elf, can't trust nature! This, this is what Nature is,»” Edzul motioned around with his hand at the barely visible surroundings, “«It's nasty, foul, unpredictable, unreliable, uncaring and cruel! You sow the fields. Great. Now just hope there'll be enough rain. Oh, the harvest looks to be good this year? Fine, just wait until Nature decides it's time for weeks of heavy rain and then the grain rots in the field. Way to go Nature!»”

“Eek,” Pife whined, feeling like he was sinking into the ground with his burden, “S-slow down, Edzul... I n-n-need time to translate...”

Before anyone could respond, the dwarf continued, “«The stone, the stone you can trust. Look at the mountains! The monuments of Deler -- not some twitchy-nosed coney -- sit sturdy under the sky, battered by this Nature of yours, staying solid and true; reliable and steady since the birth of the world. Now that you can rely on, not this fickle green-stuff that'd serve better as fuel in the furnaces! It'd be a service to turn it into a deep mining pit, or better yet, pump the molten stone from deep within and flood the whole damn surface with magma!»”

“Enough! Now you lis--MNGflfg!--” Maloy's reply was cut short.

There was silence. Everyone stood still, looking at Maloy at Edzul: the dwarf had thrust the tuft of grass into the elephant seal man's mouth.

Osod began to chew his mouth in a very llama-like manner, and a barely audible “huh” came out of him.

Maloy turned around slowly, stupified and, not knowing what else to do, crawled in the opposite direction to get out of the situation.

After ten yards or so he stopped, spit the grass out of his mouth and looked curiously at the sight opening in front of him.



The fog revealed a dark, brooding wide mound stretching ahead of him. No plant nor grass grew on it and it appeared not to be an entirely natural formation.

Without further thought he crept closer, and began circling it.



The mound was made of packed dirt and peat, with limestone boulders peeking through the barren soil in places. It certainly was not natural and looked like an ancient burial mound. Shivers ran up Maloy's spine the nearer to the peat walls he was, but it could have just as well been the cold that caused it he surmised.

But what really tingled his senses was when he noticed that the branches reaching over it were twisted and knotted even more so than in the rest of the forest. They looked sickly and half of them were dead -- like contorted skeletal limbs stretching out for help. He grasped his spear tighter. He knew it would be best to turn back and tell the others, but something drew him forward.

Then he heard a branch snap behind him. Something large approached him from behind.

He stopped and turned around slowly and silently.

A large dark form -- almost as big as he -- lumbered towards him. Maloy prepared his spear and braced himself.

“Maloy? Maloy?”

It was the voice of Dimbulb. The hippo man had followed him.




“What is this place?” Dimbulb asked with a worried look on his face. “Don't rush off like that... You could get lost.”

“Look, I'm not at all happy with how things went back there with Edzul,” Maloy sighed, relaxing his grip on the spear. “I needed just a breather so I could calm down. Some time alone... I guess getting into a fight about nature with a dwarf was pretty inevitable, wasn't it?”

“Yah... I guess?” Dimbulb replied, though he was unsure of it. He didn't have much experience with dwarves before this long journey of theirs.

“In any case, I think we should take a closer look at whatever this thing is,” Maloy continued. “Make sure it's safe here... I have a bad feeling about this place. There's something off about it... Like some kind of foulness or sickness lies upon it.”



Maloy and Dimbulb crept onward silently and crouched. As they came around the mound's end, they saw a cleft cut into the peat and a door at the end of it.

“There's a door,” Maloy whispered. “Maybe this is the home of some... Thing?”

“Should we go tell the others?” Dimbulb asked, an uneasiness taking hold of his voice.

“No,” Maloy replied, knowing deep inside that they should return. Yet, something made him want to press on, see what lay in the mound and handle it on his own. A certain kind of curiosity or want for heroism, perhaps? “We better check it out now. There is no knowing what could creep out behind our backs if we left...”

He snuck closer to the door as silently as he could with his flippers. “Besides, it could very well just be the home of a forester or hermit.”

The door was made out of roughly cut flitches and had a handle made from a gnarled branch. There were gaps between the portal and the frame -- it was of crude make, but served its purpose. The door had weathered into a silvery grey color and the lower parts touching the soggy ground were all rotten. It barely held together.

Maloy pressed his ear against the door and listened. No sound. All he could hear was the thrumming of the rain.

He took a deep breath and reached for the handle...



The door opened.

The air rushing out of the gloomy chamber showered Maloy and Dimbulb with a volley of smells -- none of them pleasant. It was a repulsive hodgepodge of damp and moldy earth, decay, fragrant herbs and something rotten, all topped with the stinging stench of urine. It made them wince.

Bundles of dried herbs, bone chimes and crude charms hung from the dirt roof. On the left side of the chamber, in front of a rough limestone wall, was a large quern. Pieces of meat had been thrown around it sloppily. The peat floor around the quern had dustings of what could only be bone meal -- judging by all the bones all about. In fact, there were several skulls that looked like of humanoid origin in the middle of the room.

Maloy felt his muscles tense as he looked at the chamber and began to have a suspicion of the source of the meat there.

He turned to Dimbulb, put his finger in front of his mouth and hoped that the hippo man understood the meaning of it. Dimbulb nodded, raising his finger to his mouth, and began to tiptoe behind Maloy.



Maloy crawled forward. A passage opened from the end of the chamber leading deeper into the mound.

Crunch.

“Oops,” Dimbulb whispered, looking on the ground. He had stepped on some bones.

Maloy glanced angrily at the hippo man, then turned his attention to the passage nervously. He waited for a while.

Nothing.




The elephant seal man continued forward into the dark. With every foot the air felt heavier, more oppressive.

Maloy felt his heart begin to race faster and faster. He gripped his spear ever the tighter, readying himself for whatever creature of evil waited him.

But despite preparing himself, his heart leapt into his throat and began pounding like a drum when from the gloom a monster stepped forth.



A large humanoid, at least twice the size of a man, leered at him with its three baleful eyes. It was slavering and twisted, its limbs jutting out in unnatural angles, its skin all wrinkled, and a pair of thin wings with stretched skin spread out from its back.




“What havvve we here?” The creature gurgled, cocking its head sideways. “Who entersss the home of Keth Juggledcurrrled the Sable uninvited?”

Maloy instinctively thrust his spear at the creature of the Night with a yell, but it dodged it with unnatural speed and lashed out at the elephant seal man who narrowly avoided it by backing up against Dimbulb.

“I ssseee Fate has brrrought you here...” It smirked and gave a vicious grin, before snarling out loud and charging the uninvited guests.



The man of shadow kept leaping away from Maloy's and Dimbulb's futile attacks, returning with heavy blows on Maloy's shield.

Dodge, thrust, lash, block.

Finally Maloy's spear struck it in the arm, the creature shrieking and flailing with its limbs, but it only gave Dimbulb an opening to swing at it. The hippo man's two-handed sword cut into the same arm Maloy had hit, tearing deep into the flesh.



Stab in the gut. Scramble away from the monster. That was Maloy's way in this fight.



Dimbulb, however, took a more straight forward approach.

“Evil thing of the Night!” Dimbulb bellowed as he bullrushed the monster, surprising and knocking it over and bashing its foot into pulp with the pommel of his blade.

It screeched and flailed as it rolled on the ground.



Before the monster or Maloy could react, Dimbulb chomped on its grotesque head, latching on firmly with a crunch. The panicking monster tried in vain to kick the hippo man, but managed to score only a mere bruise in the belly.

With barbaric and animalistic ferocity Dimbulb then shook the man of shadow around, his teeth digging in deeper into its head.

There was a sickening crack and crunch as its skull collapsed.



Maloy stood up, wiped the dirt and gore off him and looked at the unmoving body of the twisted being.

“Well, I guess that's the end of that then...” He said, leaning on his spear for support. He had begun to shake after the encounter. He hadn't felt fear during the fight, but now it all rushed in.

“We better take a quick look around and then head off to tell the others,” The elephant seal man said to Dimbulb whose eyes were all bloodshot with rage, drool mixed with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.




“...and I want to make it absolutely clear that I, as a dwarf, do not approve of the words of the silent one,” Idar did her best to wash her hands from the incident between Edzul and Maloy. Sibrek and Astesh were still quite shocked by it all, worrying that such words might attract the attention of Darker Powers.

Tanzul didn't pay much heed to it. He was more worried about where the elephant seal man and the hippo man had gone. They had been away for some time now. Perhaps they were just having a talk, trying to figure things out? Maybe to calm down? It had been a nasty fight, certainly, but not anything that couldn't be overcome. He hoped they hadn't gone far and lost their way in the fog -- it was something that could certainly happen with Dimbulb.

“...it's just that these mountain folk from the deeps, they have these weird thoughts about the surface world. Many have never seen the sun, living all their lives in the dark,” Idar continued her rambling. “You can hardly blame them -- not that it makes this acceptable -- for misconceptions of Nature then. They probably fear it, too. Superstitious lot they are.”

Edzul who was a bit further off pleased of himself and gloating, stared icily at Idar.

“Us hill folk, on the other hand, we, we live both underground and on the surface,” Idar kept on going, Sibrek and Astesh listening to her more of courtesy than interest. “We understand both ways of life: the life of the miner and that of the surface-dweller. We respect all the gods. Not just the gods of rock... So, just to be clear, again, despite Edzul being my kin, I do not approve of this. Not at all. No.”



A crashing approached the group from the fog-shrouded forest. Tanzul, Galel and Coni all whipped around to see what it was.

Maloy and Dimbulb emerged from the grey haze scampering and rushing to them, panting and looking distraught and frightened.

“We have to leave this place! We have to leave now!” Maloy yelled with a sense of urgency in his voice. “This place is the home to something very evil -- we saw it! We faced it! Gather your stuff and let's move! Now!”





Confused and alarmed, the group did as Maloy said and they headed out into the fog. As they walked, hoping to find their way out of the forest, the elephant seal man explained what had happened at the mound. All were shocked that they had been so close to the nest of something evil and not been aware of it. Pife almost fainted and they had to stop for a while.

The capybara folk Sibrek and Astesh prayed to Ôsed, while the llama man Osod asked Mater for guidance.

Eventually the fog cleared, but the rain kept pouring with no end sight.

They took their bearings, now that it was possible, and the uncertainty of where they were headed left. The journey could continue with a clear direction again.



The Forest of Rooters and its harrowing events were left behind and from the woodland's southern border the vast wetlands of the Teal Swamps opened up again.

There was not much talk during this part of the journey. Everyone was slightly dispirited or still disturbed by Edzul's tantrum, despite them making it out of the accursed fog in one piece. But at least the tension between several group members eased slightly after Coni and Osod brokered a truce between Maloy and Edzul along the way.




The scenery didn't change much as they made their way through the Teal Swamps: swathes of grass and reeds, murky bog ponds and the occasional tree and small patch of forest here and there. The rain kept coming, sometimes only a drizzle, sometimes a heavy downpour.

They followed a winding stream to the south as the day went on and the sun began to inch towards the western horizon behind the endless thick, dark clouds.

(Continued in next post...)

[brewer bob]

(...continued from previous post.)





Just before the sun set the sky cleared and the travelers were graced with a short period of warmth from the sun. They reached the border of the Teal Swamps and the Fragrant Forests when the the last rays shone in their eyes from above the treetops.

They began searching for a place to make camp in the forest that carried with it a fey and blessed character. It was a good natured place where smooth feather trees grew, the soft downs of their branches almost inviting one to climb up and lay down on them to sleep like on a feather mattress.

As they walked along the bank of the stream they noticed a tall structure -- a watch tower possibly -- looming above the canopy in the distance.



The travelers decided to investigate it. With luck, they might find shelter there and sleep with a roof over the top of their heads -- and all were eager for such a possibility.

“There's a path here,” Tanzul said as they came closer. “It looks like its been recently used.”

They followed the narrow dirt path through the swampy forest.



Shortly, the path broadened and the land around it became soggier. The air was filled with the sound of frogs croaking and ribbiting, and it became louder and louder as they went on.

The path led to the bank of a stream. The water was murky and leaves of waterlilies bobbed in it. A rickety bridge stretched over the waterway and on both sides of it were crude wooden pikes with the corpses of large creatures impaled on them.




Stuck on the left one was a large ape-like creature, its flesh mostly rotten away and its fur hanging from its skeletal frame. The right one had a fresher corpse, one which could clearly be identified as a troll.

“A warning. A gruesome sight,” Maloy said with a hushed voice as he crawled next to Tanzul who had stopped and looked disturbed be the view. “We do not have to cross the bridge. We can turn back...”

Tanzul turned to look at Maloy and the rest of the group. The capybara folk, Pife and Idar shuffled uneasily, but the others seemed only mildly disturbed by the impaled creatures.

“What do you think?” Tanzul asked them, looking over the bridge. There were a couple of torches at its end and other lights could be seen from among the trees. They looked very inviting.

 “I agree with the elephant seal man,” Osod said calmly, sensing the anxiety in the aire. “I do believe this only a warning for those with foul intentions. I do not think we have anything to fear here. There is a good air to this place. We did not come here by chance.”

After a brief weighing of their options, the thought of a warm place to sleep in and dry clothes won.





As they stepped over the bridge they saw a wooden roundhouse in front of them with a tower rising from its center and a wing spreading to the right. They heard sounds from the left, and soon into the torch light came three frog men, all muddy and wet, croaking.

“Look, look,” one said pointing at the group.

“Much fur they have, like Zes. Who are they?” A second one said.

“Tell us, tell us,” the third one said.

As Tanzul was about to reply, the door of the roundhouse crashed open and a crab-like humanoid rushed out. It ran sideways towards the frog men, clicking its pincers loudly and yelling at them.

“Shoo! Shoo! Away, away!” The crab man yelled at the amphibians. “Begone! Not scare travelers, stupid frogs!”

The frog men slunk back into the darkness, croaking and ribbiting. The crab man then straightened himself and turned to the confused group of travelers.

“Ahem,” the crab man cleared its throat. “Sorry, sorry. Frogs get excited when folk come. Not often guests here.”

“Uh...” Tanzul managed to get out of his mouth. The encounter with the frog men didn't ease the nervousness that was still present in the group. On the contrary, many began to have second thoughts.

Noticing this, Osod stepped forward and addressed the crab man who looked at them expectantly. “We are travelers who have been assailed by weather and hardships of more wicked nature. We come in peace and seek a place to rest our sore feet and weary bodies.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” the crab man replied. “Manners. Remember manners. I is Cutthroz Holybarb. This place, Twilighthum. Master Themiyi's house. Me and frogs' home. We live here. Also Zes and Pethit. No safer place in this land. Please, please. Follow, come in. Master will want meet you.”



Tanzul glanced at the roundhouse, looking up at the tower rising from it. The first stars of the night blinked around its dark form, though it was not ominous in any way. Still, he was hesitant to enter. But Osod seemed relaxed enough in this place. And there was a calm and serene feel to the very air here. Perhaps they were guided here by a greater power, after all?

The travelers followed the crab man in.

=====

So, a long one. Didn't fit in one post, oops.

At least there's some action this time.

Next update might take some time again. Not exactly sure what I want to accomplish with this Twilighthum place, but since I've made such an adventurer camp and it was along the way... We'll see.

[brewer bob]

A something little extra for today...

Behold,

A new banner!



I thought that I wanted something with Suwu, Cañar, Rin, Ova and Lòr, because they've become something quite central to the whole Waterlures story. And I'm also quite fond of them.

I was thinking at first to do a picture in the town, but adventuring in the swamps felt somehow more appropriate.

This is supposed to be a scene when the adventurers are headed to the tower of Finderblunts on Lòr's Quest. Probably scenery and the time of year are off as well as all equipment, but eh, this is what you get.

Enjoy!

[AvolitionBrit]

Your pixel art looks amazing. Gotta love some waterlures updates. I wonder want this band will encounter in the world.

[brewer bob]

Your pixel art looks amazing. Gotta love some waterlures updates. I wonder want this band will encounter in the world.

Thanks! I'm hoping that I'll get inspiration to make more art from older Waterlures stuff, but can't make no promises on that.

Hope these updates haven't grown too long and the amount of discussions doesn't bore folk. Been trying to get to know these adventurers a bit better and their conversations are a good way to do it for me. Also been trying to give everyone at least some screen time so that also makes things longer. (Except I keep all the time forgetting that Tanzul has a magpie pet and Coni a sparrow, but guess that's what you get for giving them "vermin" pets. Let's pretend they're just flying around somewhere all the time, so that's why we don't see them? Also, Pife's duck pet disappeared somewhere before we even left Controlledseal, so let's just assume he left it there.)

Hopefully by the end of the next update the group will reach Waterlures. We're actually quite close to it now.

Edit. Oh, and suggestions for stuff and what you'd like to see are always more than welcome!

[King Zultan]

Dang I'm far behind on this, guess that's what I get for not being here for a few days, at least I've caught up on the other forts I was reading so I can read this one.

[AvolitionBrit]

Perhaps a visit to a certain immortal kings fortress 0-0