Session 4 (part 2): Blights by night.
On the morning following their lengthy conversation regarding ends and means, the elves and their halfling companion took up their ration-laden packs and left behind the comfort of Anathar’s Dell, to complete the final leg of their journey toward the village of Oakhurst. Throughout their travels from Dagger Falls to this point, the Desertsmouth Mountains had always been visible towering above them to the right. Now their view of those forbidding peaks was becoming obscured as the trail wound around to skirt the Spiderhaunt Woods, passing between that dark forest and the westernmost edge of Cormanthor, so that the travellers found themselves in a narrow plain only a few miles wide, with deep green walls to either side in the distance—a sight that increased Lanatil’s level of comfort as much as it decreased Ogy’s.
Just as the sun reached its zenith, a savage sound came from off the trail beside them, a sort of snort combined with a growl. It was a wild boar. The slavering swine was slightly taller than Ogy and several times as heavy, its powerful stout body covered in coarse, grayish-black fur. Enraged at having been disturbed by the elves’ passage, the creature leveled its tusks and began to charge. Ogy hurled a dagger at it, and ran around to hide behind the monk without even waiting to see that he had missed his mark. Cameron uttered a spell intended to put the animal to sleep so they could pass by without a fight, but the boar’s intense rage was such that the magic did not subdue it. Seeing that they would have no choice but to kill the creature, Yonnis strode forward and sank his longsword deep into the angry pig’s flank. Now even angrier, it lunged at the ranger but failed to touch him. Yonnis kept the beast’s attention, continuing to strike with his sword while Elvis pierced its shoulder with a crossbow bolt. The boar was so badly wounded that any creature of less tenacious will would have been unconscious, but it continued to thrash at Yonnis, who deflected or dodged its dangerous tusks. Finally Nameless, who had not yet succeeded in laying a hand on the boar, struck home with a bone-shattering kick that caused it finally to lie still.
That night the group pitched their newly acquired tents for the first time. This immediately triggered one of those bizarrely vociferous arguments in which the two Ethril brothers were wont to engage, this time over whether they would or would not sleep in the same tent. The party ultimately decided to pitch the two tents side by side, with the two openings facing in the same direction. One tent was occupied by Yonnis, Elvis, and Nameless, the other by Lanatil, Ogy, and Cameron. Following the usual schedule of watches, the group settled down for their night’s rest.
It was a breezy night, and the wind could be heard rustling through the surrounding brush and the nearby forests. The wee hours of the morning found Elvis and Ogy on watch together, striving to tune out this background noise to hear whatever sounds might betray the approach of some predator. Suddenly they became aware of four figures whose approach had been indistinguishable from the rustling of leaves. At first they looked like nothing more than masses of gnarled, blackened twigs, such as might have been blown their way like tumbleweeds in the wind. But the twigs had a vaguely humanoid shape. They were each about four feet tall, with long arms ending in needle-like claws, and legs that actually walked with a sort of shuffling gait like light branches dragged through the grass. Two of these blighted creatures were facing each of the two sentries, who had become aware of their presence only in the instant before finding themselves under attack by what seemed like sharpened sticks flailing back and forth. Ogy felt a searing pain as the blight on his left side pierced his arm with one of its claws, leaving behind a vitriolic sap that continued to burn for seconds after the wound had been inflicted. Elvis had suffered a similar blow from one of the two twig creatures facing him. The two badly wounded sentries turned and dove back into their respective tents, shouting to awaken their companions and take refuge behind them.
One of the blights pushed the tent flap aside with one of its arms, and with the other reached through to slash Cameron just as he was awakening on the floor inside. The sorceror responded by sending a magic missile from his fingertips into the creature’s midsection. The impact sounded like a twig breaking underfoot, but the blight was not destroyed. Seeing this creature seemingly formed from the stuff of the Wood, Lanatil stood up and tried to address it in Sylvan, asking whether it could understand him. All he got in response was a wooden claw swung at his head, after which the druid decided to continue the conversation with his scimitar. Cameron had already grabbed his mace, and now landed a blow that smashed the creature into twigs of the ordinary lifeless variety. Its fellow, however, was already reaching into the tent, swinging its claws at the two elves while the wounded halfling hid in the corner.
Meanwhile, at the other tent, Yonnis had woken up just in time to see sharpened twig arms thrusting at him from the other side of the tent flap. He drew his longsword and slashed back, immediately chopping one of the brittle creatures into two lifeless gnarled masses. Nameless too leapt to his feet and smashed through one of the blights with his fist just as though it had been one of the practice boards back at the monestary. Emerging from the tent, Yonnis now cut down the last remaining blight at the entrance to Lanatil’s tent. Leaving the now motionless twigs where they had fallen on the ground, those who had been sleeping returned to their rest.
Soon after setting out the next morning, the party reached the Northride, a relatively well-defined road that starts north of Cormanthor in Yulash (just south of Zhentil Keep), passes down through Voonlar and Shadowdale in the the westernmost arms of the forest, and continues southwest between the Spiderhaunt Woods and the Thunder Peaks until it traverses the Shadow Gap and thence to the town of Tilverton. Yonnis told his companions that Oakhurst lay along the Northride only about 15 miles further down, and that they would reach it before nightfall. They were now skirting the southern edge of the Spiderhaunt, a tiny wood compared to vast Cormanthor (of which it had long ago been part), but one whose name the travellers had little desire to test.
Someone in the wood, however, desired to test them. It was an ape. Like most apes, he was huge, heavy, and hirsute. Having recently been deposed from the leadership of his tribe by a larger rival, he was in the mood to assuage his wounded pride by picking on someone of smaller size. This group of scrawny elves (he didn’t even notice the halfling) looked like just the right proving ground for his once-and-future masculine dominance. They at least would bow to him or die, preferably both. Beating his chest and giving his fiercest war cry, the ape ran at them.
Since the ape’s chosen tactic was intimidation rather than stealth, the party had plenty of warning time in which to fire at him as he approached. By the time he had the elves within arm’s length, he had been hit by one of Elvis’s crossbow bolts, a sling bullet of Lanatil’s and an arrow from Yonnis’s shortbow. Not happy about any of this, the ape dealt a vicious blow to Yonnis, who felt as though he had been struck by . . . well, by an ape. Feeling that another such blow would likely split him like a banana, Yonnis withdrew. Elvis, meanwhile, had taken a step back and uttered an incantation that caused flames to shoot forth from his fingertips to singe the ape’s flank. Lanatil drew blood with his scimitar, as did Nameless with a well-placed throw of his javelin. Ogy too came out of hiding long enough to hurl a dagger that embedded itself in the ape’s thigh. The ape decided that Nameless should be the next candidate for banana status, and leapt toward him. In doing so, however, he ignored the druid already beside him, who now dealt him a fatal scimitar blow as he passed by in pursuit of the monk.
Just as the sun reached its zenith, a savage sound came from off the trail beside them, a sort of snort combined with a growl. It was a wild boar. The slavering swine was slightly taller than Ogy and several times as heavy, its powerful stout body covered in coarse, grayish-black fur. Enraged at having been disturbed by the elves’ passage, the creature leveled its tusks and began to charge. Ogy hurled a dagger at it, and ran around to hide behind the monk without even waiting to see that he had missed his mark. Cameron uttered a spell intended to put the animal to sleep so they could pass by without a fight, but the boar’s intense rage was such that the magic did not subdue it. Seeing that they would have no choice but to kill the creature, Yonnis strode forward and sank his longsword deep into the angry pig’s flank. Now even angrier, it lunged at the ranger but failed to touch him. Yonnis kept the beast’s attention, continuing to strike with his sword while Elvis pierced its shoulder with a crossbow bolt. The boar was so badly wounded that any creature of less tenacious will would have been unconscious, but it continued to thrash at Yonnis, who deflected or dodged its dangerous tusks. Finally Nameless, who had not yet succeeded in laying a hand on the boar, struck home with a bone-shattering kick that caused it finally to lie still.
That night the group pitched their newly acquired tents for the first time. This immediately triggered one of those bizarrely vociferous arguments in which the two Ethril brothers were wont to engage, this time over whether they would or would not sleep in the same tent. The party ultimately decided to pitch the two tents side by side, with the two openings facing in the same direction. One tent was occupied by Yonnis, Elvis, and Nameless, the other by Lanatil, Ogy, and Cameron. Following the usual schedule of watches, the group settled down for their night’s rest.
It was a breezy night, and the wind could be heard rustling through the surrounding brush and the nearby forests. The wee hours of the morning found Elvis and Ogy on watch together, striving to tune out this background noise to hear whatever sounds might betray the approach of some predator. Suddenly they became aware of four figures whose approach had been indistinguishable from the rustling of leaves. At first they looked like nothing more than masses of gnarled, blackened twigs, such as might have been blown their way like tumbleweeds in the wind. But the twigs had a vaguely humanoid shape. They were each about four feet tall, with long arms ending in needle-like claws, and legs that actually walked with a sort of shuffling gait like light branches dragged through the grass. Two of these blighted creatures were facing each of the two sentries, who had become aware of their presence only in the instant before finding themselves under attack by what seemed like sharpened sticks flailing back and forth. Ogy felt a searing pain as the blight on his left side pierced his arm with one of its claws, leaving behind a vitriolic sap that continued to burn for seconds after the wound had been inflicted. Elvis had suffered a similar blow from one of the two twig creatures facing him. The two badly wounded sentries turned and dove back into their respective tents, shouting to awaken their companions and take refuge behind them.
One of the blights pushed the tent flap aside with one of its arms, and with the other reached through to slash Cameron just as he was awakening on the floor inside. The sorceror responded by sending a magic missile from his fingertips into the creature’s midsection. The impact sounded like a twig breaking underfoot, but the blight was not destroyed. Seeing this creature seemingly formed from the stuff of the Wood, Lanatil stood up and tried to address it in Sylvan, asking whether it could understand him. All he got in response was a wooden claw swung at his head, after which the druid decided to continue the conversation with his scimitar. Cameron had already grabbed his mace, and now landed a blow that smashed the creature into twigs of the ordinary lifeless variety. Its fellow, however, was already reaching into the tent, swinging its claws at the two elves while the wounded halfling hid in the corner.
Meanwhile, at the other tent, Yonnis had woken up just in time to see sharpened twig arms thrusting at him from the other side of the tent flap. He drew his longsword and slashed back, immediately chopping one of the brittle creatures into two lifeless gnarled masses. Nameless too leapt to his feet and smashed through one of the blights with his fist just as though it had been one of the practice boards back at the monestary. Emerging from the tent, Yonnis now cut down the last remaining blight at the entrance to Lanatil’s tent. Leaving the now motionless twigs where they had fallen on the ground, those who had been sleeping returned to their rest.
Soon after setting out the next morning, the party reached the Northride, a relatively well-defined road that starts north of Cormanthor in Yulash (just south of Zhentil Keep), passes down through Voonlar and Shadowdale in the the westernmost arms of the forest, and continues southwest between the Spiderhaunt Woods and the Thunder Peaks until it traverses the Shadow Gap and thence to the town of Tilverton. Yonnis told his companions that Oakhurst lay along the Northride only about 15 miles further down, and that they would reach it before nightfall. They were now skirting the southern edge of the Spiderhaunt, a tiny wood compared to vast Cormanthor (of which it had long ago been part), but one whose name the travellers had little desire to test.
Someone in the wood, however, desired to test them. It was an ape. Like most apes, he was huge, heavy, and hirsute. Having recently been deposed from the leadership of his tribe by a larger rival, he was in the mood to assuage his wounded pride by picking on someone of smaller size. This group of scrawny elves (he didn’t even notice the halfling) looked like just the right proving ground for his once-and-future masculine dominance. They at least would bow to him or die, preferably both. Beating his chest and giving his fiercest war cry, the ape ran at them.
Since the ape’s chosen tactic was intimidation rather than stealth, the party had plenty of warning time in which to fire at him as he approached. By the time he had the elves within arm’s length, he had been hit by one of Elvis’s crossbow bolts, a sling bullet of Lanatil’s and an arrow from Yonnis’s shortbow. Not happy about any of this, the ape dealt a vicious blow to Yonnis, who felt as though he had been struck by . . . well, by an ape. Feeling that another such blow would likely split him like a banana, Yonnis withdrew. Elvis, meanwhile, had taken a step back and uttered an incantation that caused flames to shoot forth from his fingertips to singe the ape’s flank. Lanatil drew blood with his scimitar, as did Nameless with a well-placed throw of his javelin. Ogy too came out of hiding long enough to hurl a dagger that embedded itself in the ape’s thigh. The ape decided that Nameless should be the next candidate for banana status, and leapt toward him. In doing so, however, he ignored the druid already beside him, who now dealt him a fatal scimitar blow as he passed by in pursuit of the monk.
posted by CMN at 1:45 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home