Warning: I'm missing some of the log (which is quite long--you have been warned). If anyone wants to add the bits I've missed, be my guest :). 

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The Hunger Ends

 

...In which Our Heroes journey to the Battlefields and the Cradle of Nature to defeat an epic villain (but manage to talk their way out of most of the fights), Zak gets an entire army to surrender to him, and Rochanna is Awakened.  Let this be a lesson to all: not only shouldn't you eat pomegranates in Hades, you shouldn't allow your mounts to eat apples while on other planes. 

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When last we left our heroes..

 

Well, okay. Actually, this is the start of a new chapter, so there's no 'last' having left the heroes. Rather, it is time to begin gathering. Gathering to examine trails and clues left behind by the Garmites. Danny, too, has been on the mend lately and has begun rousing out of the deep coma into which he'd fallen. He's still weak and his voice is shot, but he's showing signs of life rather than simply passing away. So these are good things.

 

Rawsone is in with Danny at the moment, re-wrapping his injured leg (and trying not to throw up in the process). Danny is billeted in the guest house which is nicer than the actual house (but don't tell the hobgoblins that). Samantha and Regin have already been left in town with Baira and Peter.

 

Karelin arrives quietly, clad in his war-armour, and not his coat. Clank. Clank. Clank. He doesn't say much, yet. He just looks around, grimly, and itches at the scars around his returned eye.

 

Zak is outside, though he has been checking in on Rawsone and Danny every so often. He gives a wave to Karelin as the other man appears. Gylf is nearby, and Lilly is not. And there are assorted armed people milling about, mostly hobgoblins but not all of them. They're as casual as a standing armed patrol made up of troops under Groshalk's leadership can be (i.e. not very).

 

Danny then snatches hold of Rawsone's arm, grabbing it in a vice-like grip. "..you have to *find* her. You have to save her! She knows! She knows!" He's still somewhat feverish. "... you can't *wait*. You have to go now."

 

Rawsone doesn't expect that, and her surprised yelp can probably be heard outside. Dropping the cloth in her other hand, she starts trying to pry his hand off her arm. "'S okay, Danny. You're okay, remember? We're taking care of you. War's over." This sort of thing has apparently happened before.

 

Karelin waves to Zak, then scowls. "So. Ready?" He loosk around, nodding to the hobgoblins and others. But mostly the hobgoblins.

 

"Just need a direction," Zak says to Karelin with a nod. Head inclining then toward the inside of the guesthouse. His usual greatsword is sheathed across his back, in a...very brightly colored sheathe.

 

"I know," says Danny, still gripping her. His voice tightening, "The trails. Gilead showed me -- they aren't to them. They're to *her*. They're after *her*." He doesn't say who, just yet, but his voice is getting louder. "Go on them. Find her. She's hidden away, but they can still sniff her out."

 

"Her who? Danny, what're you talking about?" Rawsone asks gently. "We're going to go. In just a few minutes...just gotta finish wrapping this, then Ooglik'll be in to give you some broth." She looks concerned, and she's watching him carefully. Stupid fevers.

Karelin glances at Zak's scabbard. "That's a ...pretty scabbard. Yule gift?" He nods curtly. "Alright."

 

"I.. I don't know," he says, "but she's there. Tell Zak.. tell him to watch for the Unbound Hand." And then he's out again.

 

"It's from my daughter," Zak says without cracking a smile. "Got anything to say about it?" And then he smiles, a little.

 

Pretty purple scabbard of +3 purpleness! Ahem. Rawsone sighs slightly, eyeing Danny before she finishes wrapping his leg back up. When he doesn't wake again, she stands and makes her way out to the others, saying nothing at first.

 

Karelin grins at Zak. "Its pretty." A grunt. "Going to get it enchanted?" He stretches his arms out inside his palte, exhaling.

 

"Sandy was makin' threats about makin' sure I'd have to wear it, yeah," Zak says with a laugh. "We'll see." He glances toward Rawsone as she approaches, and his joviality fades. "How is he?"

 

"Not sure," Rawsone says, shaking her head. "Better'n he was, I think, but...you know anything about an 'unbound hand'?" she asks, watching him for his reaction. "Couldn't tell if he was lucid or not, honestly. But he said we should go now, find 'her'. Wouldn't say who that was, though."

 

Zak thinks, then shrugs. "Nope, don't sound familiar to me," he says.

 

Rawsone shrugs. "Well, he said you should watch out for it. Or watch for it, or something. Seemed pretty adamant we leave as soon as possible," Rawsone explains with a shrug. "Don't think -that's- a bad idea, whether we need to save someone the Children're chasing or not."

 

"I reckon we'll know what it means when it's tryin' to kill us," Zak says with a shrug. "Yeah, if you've got a notion of where we should head, I'm all for getting on with things."

 

"Have an idea, at least. We'll see if the trail's still there," Rawsone says, shaking her head and moving toward Rochanna. "If not...still like the idea of wandering through the forest, shouting things 'bout He Who Hungers."

 

"I'm definitely game for that," Zak says, and though he grins briefly, he's probably not kidding. He's standing with Rawsone and Karelin, outside the guesthouse where Danny is resting.

 

The Veyshanti arrives a little belated, no doubt, Chandra's arrival brings barking from the dogs.

 

Rawsone waves to Chandra as she leads Rochanna and Konyo from the barn. Their saddlebags appear to be already packed. "Well, we'll see," she tells Zak, handing him Konyo's reins. "You ready?" she calls to Chandra.

 

Zak raises a hand to wave at Chandra as well. Gylf joins in the barking at her approach, but doesn't seem displeased to see her at all. Zak takes the reins of his horse without a word.

 

Karelin nods to Zak and Rawsone. "Let's get the trai, then." He waves towards Chandra, then gets ready himself. A basic horse, unnamed and if it was more sentient, it might feel like it was wearing a red saddle blanket.

 

"I am." Chandra says as she stops to greet the dogs, the pack on her back looks well prepared for being gone for some number of days.

 

The dogs happily slobber all over Chandra--Reasar is in a good mood because Mr. Wiggles was left with Samantha. "Let's go, then," Rawsone says, climbing up into the saddle with her usual grace before turning Rochanna's head in the direction of the spot where Rawsone found Danny.

 

Zak climbs up into the saddle with his usual gra...he just climbs up into the saddle, all right? Gylf starts snuffling at the ground, staying relatively near Rochanna.

 

Once Chandra is through getting slobbered on by dogs she takes a look at the horses and the riders. "I hope your horse don't mind the weight of two.." Speaking to Karelin. She hands him a letter that looks like its already opened, "And my uncle has found me a husband.." Her voice is very dry.

 

And so you head out.

 

It does not take Rawsone long to find the start of the trail and begin to lead you on it. It's not just a trail used by the Garmites, to be sure, but it's an actual forest trail that leads further and further into the wilderness north of Alexandria. Indeed, you're heading quite some distance from the city before long and there's little signs of traffic, definitely some of it lupine, in the area. It's hard to miss the signs, even if you're not a super-specialized ranger.

 

After a lengthy trip, you're actually fairly far out and still have more trail to follow. This, it would appear, is just the first day.

 

Just.

 

Karelin nods to Chandra. "Climb up." He looks at the letter. "Do you want me to burn the letter for you?" Then he goes.

 

He rides as quietly as he can, though the armour isn't particularly quiet at all. He keeps his eyes up and out, looking for unwelcome company.

 

Rawsone eventually gets down off of Rochanna--it's more or less impossible to track from horseback. She's mostly quiet, and has become steadily grimmer as they've traveled. For once, it has nothing to do with talk of husbands. In any case, despite the age of the trail she's carrying her bow, and a bunch of green-fletched arrows are in her quiver.

 

Zak, too, dismounts, hanging back with the others, though he keeps a careful eye on Rawsone. He doesn't have any weapons drawn. Yet.

 

"Really, I'd like you to shove it down my uncle's throat..." Tsk-tsk. Of course, Chandra probably has somewhere even worse in mind where to shove it, but she is around people. She spends part of the long ride on the horse, and some of it walking, making certain her crossbow is armed and ready for the inevitable when she's on the ground.

 

Karelin nods. "I can do that, too." Then he dismounts, puts his horse with the other horses, and pulls out his own bow, smoothing back the fletching on his arrows.

 

Rawsone eventually turns to the others, clearing her throat before she says anything. "Still a ways behind them. How long d'you reckon we should go on? 'S a storm coming," she adds, glancing up at the sky. "Going to be tough going. Tougher tracking tomorrow, though. We weren't in a hurry, 'd start looking for shelter." She's leading the group along a trail in the forest.

 

"Storm's likely to cost us the trail," Zak says after a moment. "Let's go on long as we can." A pause. "But I'll trust your judgement. They'll have to take shelter from the storm too, it gets bad enough."

 

"Lets press on." Seems Chandra agrees with Zak on this one. "And look for shelter along the way." She walks along side Karelin's horse.

 

Karelin nods. "Let's push it, if we can." He nods, and leads the horse.

 

"Storm?" Darshan stirs himself enough to ask. Shakes off the lethargy like a lizard preparing to crawl off the rock it'd been sunning on. A blink, a slower one, "That doesn't mean...snow, does it?" the words are...even. Very even. Well, he just sort of woke up.

 

"Okay. Probably won't find as good a place to camp, we do this, but I don't much care." Rawsone shakes her head. "Important thing is we get there in one piece." She eyes Darshan a moment. "If we're lucky," she replies. "We're not, it'll be freezing rain." Another glance at the sky. "Think we'll be lucky, though. If several feet of snow's lucky." She makes a face, but turns to head down the trail, keeping an eye out for places to stop as she does so.

 

"She just means it'll seem like camping, rather than staying in an inn," Zak says with a brief grin. Which gets lonely and goes away after a moment. "Of all the things I'm worried about, snow ain't at the top of the list."

 

Karelin gives a grunt. "I'm more worried about the trail, then being snowed on, yes."

 

Darshan eyes her. He eyes Rawsone like she'd just declared Hell had put on Little Red Riding Hood's cape, and was coming to visit with pies and cakes. Poisonous pies and cakes, no doubt. For a while, the sith just can't speak. This is probably a good thing. Snow!

 

"This is why we wear layers, Darshan." Chandra is indeed appears to be wearing a bulky outer layer lined in some sort of black animal fur. Probably something made from a dead dire wolf. "Yes, I'd rather not lose the trail.."

 

So, continue on it is.

 

That's the plan.

 

Of course, the snow starts about an hour after Rawsone said that it was likely. IT starts as a gentle rain that turns into ice and, as the evening deepens, into a flurry of snow. It's not hard to see through and, if anything, as it begins to pile around you makes seeing in the forest all that much easier with the way the white powder reflects the light, providing a bit more illumination for those with more human eyes to find their way around. Still, it begins to intensify, little by little..

 

Darshan mumbles something, something, and, "Coals, burning coals...one could do very well to attach them to the armor. A mrm, whole stove, perhaps," and something in the eyes suggests he's joking, could be joking. The eyes are quiet, though frigid as he looks out at the snow. As it worsens, of course: he cheats. The area around him is immediately warm. But he scowls at the snow anyway.

 

It's the principle of the thing, you see.

 

Rawsone turns and continues on into the forest, bending over more frequently once the rain and snow begins to get better looks at the sign. "Should've started this days earlier," she mutters to herself as she continues along the trail.

 

Zak, too, cheats after a bit. Or at least he looks to the sky and murmurs a prayer.

 

Karelin's head goes up, and one black-armored arm stabs out. "There." He scowls, then hisses. "A warning, maybe. Impaled on purpose, though." And there, for those watching, is a skeleton stabbed through by branches.

 

Chandrakanta keeps the hood drawn so her hair doesn't get coated in rain and then snow, nothing more uncomfortable then frozen dredlocks. She does her own cheating, pulling a bottle from her pack and drinking it down just ask Karelin points out the warning that has been set for them. "Lovely." She mutters, the tone isn't quite the same as the one she used when she mentioned her uncle's intention to find her a husband.

 

Rawsone lets out a bit of a yelp and then betrays her nerves--diving forward, she tucks into a tight roll that results in her facing the tree Karelin's pointing at, a silver-fletched arrow nocked and pointing at the thing...all before she really realizes what it is. "...Best hope..." she starts, but then she has to stagger off a step or two to be violently ill.

 

Zak doesn't see it til it's pointed out, but he certainly reacts when Rawsone lets out that yelp. And a large silver sword is suddenly in his hands, without apparently having been drawn in the meantime. (Indeed, his normal sword is still sheathed.) "Garmites wouldn't warn," he rumbles, then, sending the sword back to wherever it came from with a snap of his fingers. "They're taunting us."

 

Karelin grunts. "Been there for a while. Stripped of everything." He pulls out an arrow, nevertheless.

 

Darshan leans forward, and then Srassha. Her big nose quivers, a touch of silver coming down the side. And splattering in the snow. "Mrm...lovely's one way to put it. Just how old is the--" The cold-dampened notes break off a moment and he watches as Rawsone stumbles off. And, more quietly to Zak, "How old, do you think?" He watches the ranger a while before looking well, back to the bones. "...and there's a bit of cloth, over there. In the ice. Someone who weighs a little less might want to get it." More quietly. Pitched so the three can hear--apparently he doesn't want to give her another reason to lose whatever's...left...in her stomach.

 

There's not a whole lot left. Looking weary, Rawsone stumbles back after a moment or two. "Should get it down. Bury it." Pause. "When we come back this way, maybe." Burying bodies takes time, especially when the ground's cold.

 

"Want me to try to fetch it?" Chandra volunteers to go out on the ice and after the the clue. She nods to Rawsone's words, "The ground is a bit hard to bury anything.."

 

"No notion," Zak says, frowning at the corpse. A pause. "Yeah, reckon so. When we come back," he says. Always good to have something to look forward to.

 

"Mrrrmmm..." a quiet sound, and Darshan looks at Chandra, nods abruptly. "You're quicker, lighter. Faster. If it's ice covering something--" a trace of self-amusement, rendered dark by the surroundings, "Karelin or I'd fall through." He nudges Srassha forward, though. Encourages her to lean in, take a sniff.

 

"Got something could nab it if it were loose, but..." He glances at Chandra. "Get a rope around you, first," he suggests.

 

As 'Ms. Drooly' leans forward, something seems to catch her nostrils. She suddenly takes a big chomp out of the ground where the collected ice and snow was covering up the piece of cloth! She begins chewing before sputtering and spitting things out.

 

Karelin glances at Chandra, nods, shrugs.

 

"What is this? What've you seen?" Rawsone asks, eyeing the sith's mount. She seems slightly distracted--go figure.

 

"Good idea." Chandra doesn't actually protest the safety precaution, please mark this day on the calander. "I wouldn't let Karelin near the ice in all of that armor.." She take rope from whoever is offering and begins to tie it around her waist.

 

Gylf starts to growl when Drooly starts tearing up the ice. Zak eyes the ice a moment and says, quietly, "Blood. Not fresh, neither." He frowns. "I don't like this at all."

 

"Yeah, it's definitely old blood," Darshan says, wryly. He sounds a little--tense, and backs the mount up, drops to the ground beside her. And, looks up. "Alright." Blandly. "Stop tha--" he pauses, breaks off as the ranger speaks up. And looks over at Rawsone. "A bit of mrm, cloth, I'm afraid." He scowls up at the swiftclaw. Who looks like she's about to 'pull a Rawsone.'

 

Rawsone's eyes go wide, and she glances around the clearing. Perhaps it's just the temperature, but the ranger begins shivering and takes a couple of steps away from the nearest tree. Whatever it is, she does not even acknowledge Darshan's statement.

 

Zak narrows his eyes at Rawsone's reaction, and moves toward her. "What is it?" he asks quietly, though he frowns. "Darshan, Chandra. You see that? There's a wrongness about this place. Not something here now, but..." He spits on the ground. "This is a bad bad place." And Gylf is definitely growling now.

 

Karelin changes from bow to sword, holding the black warblade in a low guard -- waiting.

 

Meanwhile, Darshan takes a swat at his mount. Who looks like she's going to be sick then and there. He glances over at Zak, then back again, concerned. "Swiftclaws can eat most anything," a pause, wry. Flat. "I say we leave the...whatever it is, alone. And just keep moving."

 

"Was here," Rawsone says, breathing fast and looking as if she might throw up again. "I was here." Zak gets an anguished look. "Leaves were bleeding." She takes another couple of steps back.

 

"Agreed," Zak says, putting an arm around Rawsone to steady her. "We're leaving. Come on, folks."

 

Karelin's eyes slit. "Let's go, then." He spits on the ground here, and then moves on.

 

"Ah..." from Darshan. A clearing-throat. And he looks at the ranger keenly. Worried, at a glance towards Zak and back. Srassha still looks like she'd lose her lunch, shudders when the saddle bears weight again.

 

Rawsone needs to be steered for a short while, until they've put some distance between themselves and the spot. She still seems quite upset, regardless.

 

Getting away from this spot is probably a good thing for everyone.

 

As soon as you're out of it, one can almost feel as if a weight has been lifted from the shoulders. Whatever the case, it's definitely a place where an evil 'presence' hangs in the air.

 

The night grows darker and it isn't much longer before you come into a place of thicker trees. And on occasion, each of you spots the sign of some kind of bloodshed, but it's scattered and at least indicating that you were on the right course.

 

And then, oddly enough, the path seems to get... easier? It's strange, but despite the weather, there's definitely a path that lays before you now.

 

Karelin heads forwards steadily, chin down. Scowling, he murmurs, "Now we're being led."

 

"You think?" Zak says, a little sarcastically. He's staying pretty near Rawsone now. "Well, at least I reckon we ain't gonna have to worry so much about findin' them."

 

Rawsone pulls up short, glancing around and nervously brushing some snow off her shoulders. She glances back at the others and then seems about to move on--at least, until Karelin says something. "Not by the Children, though," she says quietly. "It's...maybe it's whatever Danny was talking about. Whoever." It's 'whomever', but who's counting?

 

Karelin nods once. "Either way. Let's go shove down their throats."

 

Eventually, you reach what appears to be a clearing.

 

In this clearing is what equally also appears to be a simple cabin, not unlike the one that Rawsone and Zak had before the dogs, children, relatives, and Hobgoblins arrived.

 

A plume of smoke goes up from the chimney and the door is slightly ajar, leaving it a welcoming and warm look in and out of the snow.

 

"I'm...mrm, not sure I like the idea of feeling welcome, or not," at length, from the sith'makar. Darshan looks down the path as it--seems to open up. "Our druids do this...trick. When they want to show off." A pause. "Or lead a vorska to the hunting-party. That's sventi." He glances back again, again at the mention of Danny. And then the cabin.

 

Karelin, naturally, doesn't put his sword away. He just stands guard.

 

"...well, if it *is* the Children," Zak says grudgingly, "they're doing their damnedest to seem harmless." A pause. And then a shrug, and Zak steps forward. "Hello?" he calls out, loudly enough to be heard.

 

Rawsone glances back at the others, then looks to the front again. Her bow hasn't been put away (though it has been draped with an oiled cloth) since they left the clearing. She allows Zak to take the lead here, watching the house carefully.

 

"Oh!" A voice comes from inside, "Visitors! I don't get many, these days. Do come in, do come in. Warm yourselves by the fire!" The voice sounds like it belongs to a woman, and probably elderly judging by the inflection.

 

Darshan shifts, creaks in the saddle. Just shifts. "So we're led to a cabin," finally, eventually. And then, just shuts up, because, 'what the hell does that mean?' is just so obvious it hangs in the air. He doesn't bother asking it. Just responds, "The blessings of the Dragonlight on you, mother!" and glances back.

 

"Evening," Zak calls out, sounding as friendly as he dares, under the circumstances. A glance at Rawsone, and then he narrows his eyes and looks back toward the cabin.

 

Rawsone glances at the others and shrugs. "Maybe this's who Danny meant?" she wonders quietly. "And of Gilead," she adds, a touch louder--though she waits for Zak to complete his narrowed-eyed trick before approaching the cabin.

 

Karelin waits, quietly, in the back, keeping a watch out outwards.

 

Zak shakes his head a moment, and relaxes. A little. "Don't see any wrongness." A pause. "But that don't mean we should just decide she's our new best friend." This he says quietly.

 

"Well," eventually, from the sith, in a more decisive tone. "I'm getting hungry." He takes a step forward, and Srassha sniffs the air, just sniffs it. He looks cautious, too. But the next speaker that evening is a lizard's tummy.

 

Grr. Growl!

 

Rawsone nods to Zak, and then steps toward the cabin. She'll be the first one inside, if no one pushes past her.

 

The door is pulled open by a little old lady with curled, grey hair. She's smiling, of course, and she seems pleased to see everyone. "Come in, come in," she says, nodding, "though leave the raptor outside. The gardens need fertilizing," and she gestures for everyone else to come in. She's dressed in comforotable looking robes. "Forgive the state of the place. I seldom get visitors -- the guardians see to that.. even if they've gone quiet these days for, perhaps, reasons you are no doubt aware of and precipitated your coming out here. Tea? Biscuits?"

 

Karelin enters, warily. He stands. Furniture and adamantite armor don't mix well.

 

Darshan just stares. Really stares. "Uhm..." he sort of says, and is surprised enough he does exactly that. And Drooly totally goes to take a poop in the garden. Right among the begonias.

 

"Guar...erm. Yes. Meat and biscuits."

 

"Not sure we do, honestly," Rawsone says, shaking her head as she steps inside. Since there's probably fewer chairs than people, she takes a seat on the floor. "Tea'd be nice," she adds, after a moment or two.

 

The Veyshanti keeps her distance and offers a smile or two, "Yes, something warm would be good."

 

"I'm sure this weather is not your kind of thing! Such a long way from home and come so far to see me," a smile directed at Chandrakanta, "You've a lot on your mind, I can tell, and you as well," a nod towards Karelin. "Your scars tell stories all their own. As do her's. And Zak's and Rawsone," she does seem aware of who they are, at least, pouring tea into cups from a cupboard and offering each person one of them.

 

"I hope the tea is good. It's a warm, warm drink and you'll be out in the cold again soon enough. I can't stay 'here' for more than a short time, I'm afraid, or else they'll find it."

 

Karelin wraps his hands around the tea, at very least, though he does nothing more than inhale the steam and listen.

 

"Who are you?" Rawsone asks, accepting the cup and sniffing at it before taking a sip. "You know Danny? Priest? Of Gilead?" She's watching the old lady with a slight frown, apparently still not recovered from their experience in the clearing.

 

Another look. A second, longer look. Darshan looks uncomfortable. Definitely looks uncomfortable. "One...mrm, sees," and the tone's odder, now. Questioning, thoughtful. Reaching for some sort of conclusion. "But, one appreciates it just the same. And--yes." At Rawsone's line of questioning.

 

Chandrakanta doesn't seem as put off by the woman knowing names. She takes her tea, sipping it slowly. "I guess our reputation preceeds us."

 

"I know of him. He knows of me," she replies, leaning back comfortably, "oh! These old bones creak so." She sips her tea, saying, "It does, it does." She wraps her hands around the cup. "The're searching for me. And what I keep. They hope it to be part of the key that will help them unlock the chains that bind Caracoroth."

 

Karelin grunts. "So, the guardians let us find you. They going to be able to force themselves to you as well?"

 

Rawsone takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. "Here to put a stop to 'em. This group, anyway. He Who Hungers." A shake of her head--though she appears to have decided that this woman is who Danny was talking about. There's a pause, then, "Know anything about an unbound hand? Danny said something, before we left," she explains.

 

Darshan looks up at the name, and the eyes gleam. He grins. "He has...aspirations. One would like to choke those aspirations," bland, a dark amusement. The sith sniffs at the tea, and lifts the dainty teacup. And after a while, his features rearrange themselves: a polite, resigned determination, yes. The tongue darts in, tastes the liquid.

 

"This is remarkable tea, it tastes like the tea my mother would make.." Chandra remarks softly as she listens to the woman speak of the key.

 

With a nod towards Karelin, the elderly woman smiles at him. "Yes, my guardians did -- though they may not be able to keep them at bay forever. A pack of hunting dogs is nothing if not relentless.. and in this case, you have more than dogs to worry about. Which brings us to this so called 'Unbound Hand'. To be truthful, I'd not heard the name before, but I have sensed.. other threats. Other things burning away at the edge of my consciousness. It strikes a chord, but I am afraid I can not be more helpful than to say that I do not think the Unbound Hand is one, but rather many. Whatever they are, they are not children of Garm." She smiles warmly at Chandra, "Oh! Lovely!" She squints at Chandrakanta, studying her closely for a moment. "I see that each of you means for the best. That you wil take this fight deep into the forest or wherever else it takes you to put an end to the machinations of He Who Hungers. I had hoped to have more time to evaluate you, bu there's going to be little time for it. The beasts grow nearer and He Who Huners can not be allowed to have the sliver."

 

Karelin sips his tea slowly, carefully. He keeps his hands wrapped around, and listens carefully.

 

"Do you think the guardians are the source of the blood we saw?" Chandra asks rather abruptly, sitting her now near empty cup down.

 

Rawsone nods to Chandra's assessment of the tea. "Sliver?" she asks. "Sliver of what?" Another sigh, slighter this time, escapes from her before she continues. "Mean to put a stop to 'em, once and for all, yeah. Gone one much too long."

 

Claws. China. The teacup Darshan's holding suddenly cracks and spills hot liquid over armor and lap. He lets go a choked hiss because it's hot! The liquid's certainly that, and he mutters a quiet, low-toned excuse while glancing up at the old mother. And, scaled hands cup the pieces. Pick up a stray porcelain shard that'd fallen on one leg. "Where..." he looks at a loss.

 

Karelin grunts. "The Unbound Hand are not?" He exhales, shakes his head. "Not even rats?" His lips twist "No. He Who Hungers will not succeed."

 

"I'm afraid so," she answers to Chandrakanta, "It is difficult to explain. I do not just exist here, but in many other places at once. I am 'here' because I need to be here and you needed to find me. The Children know this. They work, choreograph, to find me in many places at once. And it. And I would not be here if Gilead did not want you to see me. And to find it yourself." She lifts her chin, standing up and setting her tea aside to open a cupboard. She leans in, reaching around in it. "At one time, I was called Penny. Now, I am merely the Sliver's Keeper." She produces what appears to be a slender length of wood, like a piece of an arrow's half, charred black and brittle with age. "It doesn't look like much. But they say it was one of the arrows from a battle between the Beast and its Master before it was Chained. Such a remnant of a battle, should this prove to be true and I don't know that it, would prove devestating in the hands of He Who Hungers."

 

Darshan...relaxes, then. At the sight of the odd piece. He spares it a curious glance, and resettles the broken porcelain on the floor and to the side. Never mind the tea. "Your name states your function," he says, though it's less a question. "How would he...seek to use such a thing?" he asks. The porcelain bits slide against eachother. Settle into place on the floor. "There must be some method. Mrm. Some way he's preparing."

 

"Ahh..." Rawsone stares, wide-eyed. She leans forward slightly, but doesn't reach for the item. "That's...gods." She seems able to say nothing more for a few minutes, and Darshan beats her to most of the questions. "Will they come here? Once you're gone? How many of 'em are there?"

 

Karelin grunts. "I don't think I want to see that again, ever." He scowls, looks at the door again. "They'll come, no doubt, soon enough."

 

She runs a hand over the top of her head, starting to say something else, but she's cut off by a lone howl that sounds from outside.

 

"..they are always trying to find it. It's one of the many aspects of his plan. That's all I've been able to sense. The guardians have overheard bits and pieces that htey have related to me. That he wants the sliver. That he seeks to enter Caracoroth's prison, to open the door and free him from his bounds. And that he has sought allies with which to make purpose. All I have heard of the Unbound Hand indicates that it is some kind of organization with which he has made this common purpose. And that He Who Huners himself has journeyed to the planes."

 

Karelin nods once, slowly. "The Unbound Hand." He says it again to repeat it, remember it. "He Who Hungers has, has he?"

 

"Are we...in the planes, right now?" Darshan asks, suddenly. His voice is tense. Harsh. Very tense, as he looks out the door and rises. "One mrm, heard He Who Hungers resides on one...and one has traveled to so many, recently." He doesn't sound like he knows what to make of this fact. He just sounds...resigned. And thoughtful. Tense, at the outside noises.

 

Rawsone looks toward the door, and re-arranges the bow on her lap. "What can we do?" she asks. "What d'you want us to do?" She's clearly hoping it involves shooting. Lots of shooting. And He Who Hungers.

 

"Not exactly. You are in a place that exists in many places at once. In a manner of speaking, you are not actually in any place at all." She smiles at Darshan, shaking her head. "It is difficult for mortal minds to comprehend. Perhaps when you've been dead a few centuries, your souls will begin to understand, but the mortal mind has certain limitations placed upon it in how it views things." She glances towards the window again. "..but when you go from here, you will be where you were and the guardians will use you to save themselves, I am afraid. It is in the nature of any animal to seek its own preservation. It is their hope that, by hunting my guardians, that they can force the same to happen to me." She lifts her chin, closing her fist over the sliver, holding it tightly. ".. The Sliver will help He Who Huners, but it is by no means pivotal to his plan. You must go to the Planes. You must confront of him on his march to the Gate of Caracorth's Prison. And there, you must confront him. But first, you must save me."

 

And with that, you are suddenly ejected from the comfortable, warm confines of the cabin and into the cold, cold snows.

 

Another howl sounds. A glimpse of robed figures in the woods and a single deer rushing headlong through the clearing.

 

It stops, lifts its head at you, sniffs once, and then bolts through the forest again.

 

Another howl.

 

Karelin bares his sword, the black blade glinting dully in the faint light. He reaches into his belt pounches, and pulls out a small tub of ointment. This he starts to apply to the blade of his sword. "Well," he snarls towards the robes in the woods. "Its time, then."

Rawsone yelps as she's suddenly tumbled into the snow, but she comes up again with a silver arrow on her bow and the command word for her armor on her lips. She's soon moving slowly just over the surface of the snow and looking as if she's trying not to get sick. "Rochanna, run!" she yells to her horse. Then, moments later, in a moment of true genius on her part that nevertheless falls flat when presented with her acting skills, "Take the sliver! To the city! We'll hold 'em off!" Yes, *Rawsone* is trying to *bluff*. And it's obvious to anyone who wasn't born yesterday.

Zak has been uncharacteristically quiet for much of this exchange. That all changeswhen the home disappears. He snaps his fingers and a large silver sword appears in his hands. "It's time for *something*, for damn sure," he says.

 

The Veyshanti gives Rawsone a look when she starts shouting. She crouches in the snow. Trying to quietly draw her blades. Chandra sharpens an eye towards the figures. Really, she resists saying something, the others have said enough.

 

Darshan thud's! softly into the snow, dropped suddenly into a great, large snowbank. Clawed hands scrape their way out, clawed hands followed by chattering teeth, "..." whatever he'd say is covered by coughing as he scrambles upwards. Snow sticks to scale, tail, armor, and packs inside of it. Like the rest, he grabs for his sword. Grabs, and is left staring.

 

The world. The gods. Hate him. There, shivering in the snow, he's half-covered in ice an slush. It's probably melting down his armor, too. It's going to stick there. For hours.

 

And the sword? A blade whose hilt's now old and comfortable. But that's the only familiar thing. The rest of it glows with a bright, bright pink light, a brilliant color that colors him and the snow around them. Neon. Fuscha. PINK. The brilliant color spills into the snow and he doesn't get off so much as a warcry as a choked sound. His warcry is something entirely different, "MYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Yeah. You guys have your own. He gets to blame the artificer.

 

Karelin calls out, squinting through the snow. "Four upright, one wolf." Then comes the yell. "Well, they certainly know we're here, now." He takes two steps forwards, clunking through the snow to find his footing, sword held low and slightly off to one side.

 

They already knew you were here, that's for sure. The wolf's nose was to the ground and they take spots behind trees. All of them are clad in appropriate clothes to the weather. Cloaks covering armor or robes in many cases, some of them trying to blend better with the snows than others.

 

"..who goes there?" comes a voice from the trees.

 

"You're askin' for our names, first?" Zak calls out, stepping forward. "Might be askin' you the same question." He narrows his eyes.

 

"Gilead's Hunters," Rawsone calls back, standing straighter as she slowly drifts across the snow. Her eyes narrow a bit, and she lifts a hand to signal the others not to attack--this isn't, after all, characteristic behavior for Children. Rochanna takes off toward town, probably with the other horses.

 

Darshan glares at his sword, then the wolves, and back again. He holds the hilt tighter than he should. If he were human, there'd be the white knuckles to mark it. He seems to have enough trouble grabbing hold of a vial at his waist and pouring it down the blade. It dims the light, somewhat, but it's not much well, better.

 

Karelin doesn't speak, not at all, his swordblade glittering silver in the night, now.

 

Its not entirely soundless, but Chandra moves, using the shadows to aid her as she heads around the party asking who they are. The wolf's head turns, pointing the direction that the Veyshanti disappeared. Hopefully no one tries to scold her for this.

 

"..we are bold men, seeking a treasure. I'd like to ask that you get out of our way, since it looks like you're here to be in it. Are you defending the Forest Witch?" He asks, bluntly, one hand going to the hilt of his sword as it seems those here are quite ready for battle.

 

The wolf growls.

 

"Yes," Rawsone says bluntly, though she's still frowning. "You Children or you just working for 'em? Not going to find what you're looking for, regardless." She keeps arrow to bowstring, though she appears to be looking for a place to move that won't allow the men cover.

 

Darshan takes a step closer towards Rawsone, murmuring a few words as he goes. He looks...irritated, that's the best word for it. And, there's that dancing, bobbing pink light that follows him now, wherever he goes. He keeps quiet, and concentrates on those shapes in the air. The familiar, light silver appearance of the Dragon appears there, but even it, today, seems pink.

 

Gylf returns the growl with a rather harsh one of his own, his hackles raising. He glares bloody murder at the wolf. "That we are," says Zak, stepping in front of the rest. "And we're pretty bold too. Best be on your way, or strike right now. But you ain't getting her, and you ain't getting what you're after." He then speaks one more word, and his silver sword begins to glow white-hot.

 

"You chaps appear to be getting all kinds of ready for battle," says one of them from the back, "I'd ask that you'd stop that now or we might have to engage you far earlier than we'd like, if we have to engage at all. You let us go about our business and we can all go our seperate ways." He deosn't answer the question Rawsone asks, however.

 

"Yes." His swordtip comes up, and he cracks his neck. Karelin grins in the darkness. "Answer the woman's question. Now."

 

"That ain't happening," Zak says, and his smile is not nice at all. "You folks gonna stand down and tell us what it is you're after?" He clearly doesn't expect an affirmative answer.

 

"Aren't acting like Children," Rawsone comments, still frowning. "They told you you were doing good, they lied. They're making you do this, we can help." Not that she lowers her bow.

 

Chandrakanta continues to creep in the darkness, the snow working against her. Crunching as she steps, exposing her movements. She keeps her weapons pointed at the ground as she moves, the tip of her rapier catching an unexpected break in the shadows, glinting.

 

"..are you kidding me?" he says, shaking his head and letting out a burst of laughter. "I'm here for the Witch. Told she's got a good treasure in there that I'll be well paid if I get it back for 'em. The wolf was given to us by an oracle -- told it could track her. Seems to be doing so. The Children? Are you kidding me?"

 

He snorts, then shakes his head. "We got this contract and we're gonna follow it through. You get in our way, you get hurt. That's simple. We'll do our best not to kill anybody, but them's the breaks."

 

 

The wolf's eyes have locked onto Chandrakanta's presence now and its still growling. More loudly, now.

 

"She mrm...mentioned guardians, and some group called the Unbound Hand," Darshan says, looking down the blade, then across at them. A breath, a long one. "The...desecration earlier. You'd said it wasn't like Garm's style, either." He hesitates a moment, then stiffens at the man's words.

 

Karelin nods once, curtly. "So. Who was the oracle?" He snarls. "We're in your way. We might even give you the same courtesy."

 

"Everyone stop," Rawsone says, glancing over toward where Chandra disappeared. "How much're they paying you? You know their plan's to set Caracoroth free?" the ranger asks. "You -really- want to live on a Gaea with Him running loose?" Pause. "Don't want to hurt any of you, but we will if we have to. What if we paid you to go away?"

 

GAME: Rawsone rolls diplomacy: (20)+9: 29 to wp

 

"An oracle, huh? I'm guessing this weren't an oracle of one of the nicer gods," Zak says with a shake of his head. He fixes the leader with a glare. "Let's make this real damn simple. Only way past us is through us. Could be you don't know what you're wrapped up in, but I think you probably know more than you're telling us. Maybe more than you've told them." A glance at Rawsone. "Well now, that's an interesting suggestion."

 

"Now that's an idea," says the leader, now stepping out of cover for a moment. He pulls his hood back. "If you're planning on negotiating with us, we can do that. we don't normally abandon contracts, but to tell you the truth, we've been out here killing deer in the middle of winter for the last two weeks, following the bloody's wolf's nose."

 

The wolf chuffs.

 

"We were offered twenty thousand for the 'splinter' we're suppoed to get from the Witch. You give us half, we walk away. Fair deal?" He snorts, seeming to disbelieve Rawsone's words about CAracorth being set free. "The Oracle said she was on some kind of divine mission. None of my business. Gold is my business. Killing things that need killing is my business. Same as the rest of us." HE gestures over his shoulder with his thumb.

Karelin looks towards Zak, eyes slitting. "What do you see?" He focuses on the wolf. "So, who's your wolf there?" A lip curves up. "Who's divine mission. You give a good damn about that?"

Gylf's teeth are bared, and he takes a step toward the wolf. Zak looks away from the leader, toward one of the mercenaries. "Or you take our gold and do whatever the hell you were gonna do anyway. 'Sides, I'm pretty sure your escort there ain't gonna let you turn aside so easily." He then turns toward the wolf. "Ain't that right?"

"They're going to loose the Demon Hound," Darshan says finally, speaking up. "I swear by Daeus this is true." The words are flat and firm. "The gods help you if you aid such a thing. Before you are followers of the gods, and I myself serve Daeus as one of his paladins. Go ahead, and call me a liar, but that twenty thousand's good as a gate to damnation." He can't spare a look at the hound--he's too focused on the bounty hunter.

Rawsone lowers her bow, but doesn't put it away. "How would we know you wouldn't just walk back to this oracle?" she asks. "And it's true. Sliver Keeper's a servant of Gilead, keeps something that He Who Hungers wants to use to set Caracoroth free, or give it to him when he sets him free, or something. And--'s a werewolf?" she asks Zak, looking from him to the wolf and back.

"It's got a wrongness to it," Zak says with a nod to Rawsone. "Whatever else it is, it ain't no wolf."

"You got my word. I can't really think of anything else I could give you, in all honesty. As for the wolf, it's a wolf. Been with us since we started. Not raised a problem 'til you folks showed up. Well, that and help us hunt down the sliver keeper. It don't make much sense to me. Keeps hopping around and killing deer or something." He snorts, "Name's Wazyk. Wazyk Jinglehopper." He gives everyone a look as if daring them to make a comment about his last name.

 

"So, Caracorth, ya say?" adds one in back. "Fascinating. The Oracle said she was an Averite."

 

"Then she lied," Zak says quietly.

 

Darshan glances over, and doesn't say alot. "A mislead follower, maybe. But, freeing something like that means a damn war. The gods put it in chains, and I'd like to keep it that way." The paladin's voice is low, quiet. Determined, though.

 

"This Oracle was in Am'shere?" Rawsone asks, glancing at Darshan. "And, we'll have to talk about the money...don't exactly carry it around. But we've got other stuff's worth that much with us," she adds, to reassure them. "If you don't fight when that wolf does whatever it's going to do. Here, for the minute." She takes the goggles off of her head and gently tosses them to the leader. "Those're worth a lot. Let you see in the dark."

 

Karelin doesn't say anything, just right now. He keeps a close eye on the wolf, though. Very close.

 

Darshan looks over, winces towards Rawsone. "We'll talk about it later. You remember that story I told you?" he asks, and looks back at the bounty hunter. Then the wolf. Oh, yes. Pays to keep an eye on that thing.

 

"No kidding," he says, tossing the goggles carefully back to one in back. "How much are these worth?" He asks, curiously, trying to get at least some kind of guesstimate before he accepts them.

 

The wolf remains calm, not even raising its tail. It seems to be waiting casually. It starts to lick its butt and bite its tail after a moment. Ears lay back submissively.

 

"Well, I dunno about lies or not. Frankly, don't much care. The Gods fight amongst each other plenty, even the ones that're supposed to be on the same side so it don't matter to me. As for Am'shere? Hell no. I wouldn't cross into that wretched, steaming jungle for *thirty* thousand gold. No, she came to our headquarters out of nowhere. Gave us a coin. And this forest is fucking creepy besides."

 

Karelin's eyes slit. "A coin?" He looks between the others.

 

Zak is, in fact, not watching the wolf. Maybe because Gylf is. Instead, he's got his eye on that fellow in the back. "And that didn't give you any cause for alarm?" he asks. "Didn't make you wonder, even a little? Or were you blinded by the promise of gold?"

 

"Depends. You buy 'em new from a wizard, probably cost you about half what they said they'd pay you," Rawsone replies, shrugging. "You try to sell it in Alexandria, be less'n that, though. Maybe we should go back to town. Can get someone to look at 'em, then can pay you the difference 'tween that and what you asked for." Pause. "You the Unbound Hand?" She nods to Karelin's question.

 

Chandrakanta emerges from the shadows, having pauses her journey towards. Listening. Her eyes dart between the wolf and one of the party members towards the back. Her head shakes as she listens. "He is right, there is a wrongness to that wolf."

 

Darshan pauses, thoughtful. "Jungle's fairly nice," after a while. And..."R--priestess, if she's popping out of nowhere, she'll probably mrm, counter it." He looks up at the men, thoughtful, then the wolf. The wolf for a long, long time, but whatever it is he's looking for, a touch of confusion sets in, instead.

 

"Yeah, but it's not as much as we're going to need to turn away twenty thousand, you know," says Jinglehopper, shaking his head as he leans forward on his toes.

 

"Unbound Hand? What's an Unbound Hand?"

 

"No, but.. that sounds familiar, actually," says Jinglehopper. "That's the girl that hired us -- Aenia, Unbound Hand of Averium. That's what she called herself."

 

"This *will* do what the ranger says it will do. It'll be handy. Of course, you're right in that its value is not entirely what we'd require to move on." He smiles. They're starting to come out of cover a little since violence is no longer seeming *immediate* and negotiatons are ongoing.

 

The wolf remains relaxed. For the moment.

 

Karelin's eyes slit. "Aenia, Unbound Hand." He doesn't tack on the Averium, mind you. "Is that so." He keeps eyeing the wolf.

 

Darshan licks the edges of his muzzle, and doesn't say a word. He's too busy looking at the wolf, or maybe...maybe the wolf's just the safest place to look at the moment. "He been a friend of yours, long?" he asks, and puts the blade away. The pink light winks out, and Darshan takes a step towards the thing.

 

Rawsone eyes Zak momentarily. This is -so- his god's fault, somehow. "All right. We'll get you more." The ranger looks around to see if anyone else is planning to contribute, or indeed, is even following her lead. "But what's this about the coin. Mind if we see it?" She's relaxed slightly and is largely ignoring the wolf at the moment. "She," Rawsone corrects. "Or--oh, you mean the wolf."

 

The paladin takes something from a pouch, and crushes it in his hand. Crushes it, and the scent of wolfsbane hits the air, thick and heady and pungent. "Mrm..." is all he says. He's focused. Focused, and keeps crushing the leaves in his hand. He holds the fragrant lot just a few inches to the side of the creature's...nose. Upwind. "Tell him to hold still," wry. "I'm going to rub this in his fur."

 

Zak looks back at Rawsone, and shakes his head. "Whoever she is, she ain't no Averite. Or if she is, she's been lied to," he says.

 

"You certain you want to do that?" The Veyshanti says through the veil she's using to keep the cold out to the paladin. Chandra still doesn't like the wolf, no matter how innocuous it seems. She nods with Zak, "She has to have been misled.." Speaking of the Averite.

 

After a moment, the wolf starts snorting and sniffing and seeming genuinely displeased. It bares its teeth at Darshan before running behind Jinglehopper and hiding there.

 

Jinglehopper pulls a gold coin out of his pouch. Flips it over and then into the air. He catches it. "We're waiting for the rest of the coin or other such things. Folks?" He glances from side to side. "'Less you've got another offer you wanna make."

 

"Or she's like the Antonites," Rawsone opines, before glancing over at Darshan and wincing. "'S too late for that to turn him back, he is a werewolf, Darshan," she remarks. "'Sides, he's probably one of the Children--probably wanted it. Okay, okay," she adds, looking back to Jinglehopper. "Let me think." She's trying to think of something to give them that wouldn't directly benefit them in a fight.

"I think," after a moment, and the paladin's voice is dark, sad as he straightens again. "Part of what we're going to give you is saving your life," from the sith. "You know lycanthropy's contagious?" he lifts his chin and gestures to the wolf. "Well, you might want to...have a talk with your friend, there. Two mrm, weeks, you'd said? Garm's intent on his freedom, and lycanthropes are His children. You turn your back on this deal, you're going to have that to deal with," another gesture. "If that disease catches you, it's Garm in control, not you, and He doesn't have to pay you a damn thing."

 

Karelin's swordtip follows the wolf, as it moves.

 

"Ain't got a lot on me I can rightly part with," Zak says, eyeing his scabbard for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "And the bulk of my coin's back in the city. But if you're earnest..." He shrugs, pulls out a bit of paper, and scrawls something on it. "You'll be wanting protection from the Children. Maybe even employment. I've some pull in the city these days, could see you right. Go to the Battlehall, give this to whoever's in charge." A glance at the wolf. "It ain't invited. Neither's he." A nod at the man toward the back.

 

"I think we've just put this man's life in danger," from the sith. He looks to the wolf and back towards the man in the back.

 

"Recognize you," he says, "You're not hard to find. Trust you to be good to your word," says Jinglehopper. "You give me you word you'll come up with the coin that we agree to here, then we'll depart. Got a teleport scroll that'll take us home. S'not Alexandria, but home is home." He grins here, then snorts about the talk of lycanthropy. "We can take care of ourselves." He flips the coin towards Zak. "Wolf'll come with us. It's no werewolf. Was a full moon when we had him!"

 

"That doesn't mean something isn't right with it." Chandra replies. She's still training her eye between the wolf and them man Zak pointed out was not welcome to the battlehall.

 

Karelin's swordtip points at the man in the back. "What's yer name, boy?"

 

Rawsone is digging in pouches when the man finally accepts Zak's offer. She nods once, then shakes her head when the man speaks. "Children can control their changes. And this one just ran away from wolfsbane. You take it back with you, it'll tear your throats out." She eyes the coin as it's tossed toward Zak.

 

"Said I'd give you protection, not gold," Zak chooses now to point out. He reaches out to grab the coin as it's thrown to him. "But I reckon I'll see you well-paid for your trouble." A pause. "And if I see you out here again, trust me when I say you ain't gonna need to worry about coin ever again."

 

Darshan looks over, and doesn't say much. He does look back at the wolf, though. "Two weeks," he echoes, just to make the poor man worry, or because he himself is worried. "I /don't/ like the look of you." To the wolf. Then, "Averum doesn't control beasts, hunter. You know that. Ask who sent this one."

 

"Sure, Averium doesn't. But aren't there like... celestial wolves and shit?" he asks, glancing down at the wolf. "Look, we've grown rather fond of it. It hasn't hurt anyone. It's just a wolf. I don't get where you're getting all this werewolf shit from, anyways. It hasn't done anything." Jinglehopper snorts.

 

The others shrug their shoulders and the one Karelin speaks to glares at him. "Fritz, wizard." He cracks his knuckles. "Now, sounds like we're coming together on our negotiatons, yeah? We wanna get out of here."

 

Jinglehopper turns back to Zak, saying, "She gave us the goggles. We'll take these as collateral on a debt and return them to you when we meet in the city for finalized. Keep in mind we're passing on twenty thousand gold and the chnce that we might get killed or that you might get killed. Ten thousand is a pretty good altenrative for avoiding all that pain. We're taking you at your words, too, for the most part." The wizard, Fritz, pulls out a scroll.

 

"We'll be seeing you all soon."

 

Chandrakanta grips her blade tighter when the wizard unfurls the scroll. She just seems itchier then normal.

 

Karelin's knees flex slightly, and he moves towards a bole of a tree, just in case.

 

"Please. Don't take the wolf," Rawsone says. "'S a werewolf, or at least a servant of Garm. 'M a priestess of Gilead, and this's a paladin of Daeus, and we're telling you. Don't take the wolf." Except most of this is probably said after they've teleported away.

 

"Well," and then, again. Darshan lets go a breath and finds something to lean against. A tree, hopefully. Tree's friendly, right? Nature? Hughugbadgermushroom? He watches them go, the wolf, too. He really...well. There's not alot to look happy over, over that. Though, maybe there was? They're not cut. They're not bleeding. That says alot for it.

 

"Yeah, and that ain't one of them," Zak says, shaking his head. A pause, as he looks at the coin. "Wait, wait. She gave you this recently?" he asks, frowning.

 

Fritz begins to read from the scroll.

 

"Take us away! Take us away to Fanatical Eddie's Emporium and low, low prices!"

 

Fritz looks at Jinglehopper and asks, "Where the hell did you get this scroll?"

 

"IT was cheap!"

 

The wolf suddenly darts away from them, bursting into action and racing straight into the forest even as the teleportees vanish -- though Zak does get an affirmative nod.

 

Gylf takes off after the wolf when it bolts.

 

Karelin does, too, admittedly. In a Hasty manner.

 

"I think," flatly, "That's the rest of your fee, m'lady." Darshan backs up, and looks for his legs, for Srassha. It'll take him a moment to get in saddle, if that's where they're going, but that's what he intends to do. She's probably in the snowbank, somewhere!

 

"Why, what--" Rawsone starts to ask Zak. And then Rawsone's bow is up and she too is flying after the wolf--just far enough to get a good shot, really.

 

Chandrakanta sees the wolf rush away, and Gylf following, she just chases after.

 

Zak just shakes his head. "Can't actually say I'm surprised," he says. He pockets the coin for now, and then bursts into a run as well.

 

The wolf bursts through the trees, running at a breakneck pace and then skids to a halt. Beneath another large, very large, tree. Another large tree with a very large number of skeletons hanging from it -- again. It would appear that they've been here a while in some kind of Garmite ritual, that's for sure, entrails hanging from their midsections, spooled around the trees and tied in knots, joined hand in hand when close together.

 

As the werewolf reaches it, he leaps behind the tree, reaching his hybrid form and then letting out a howl.

 

.. the *tree*.. *wakes*. It moves.

 

It jerks its roots from the ground, taking a step on a massive, tendriled foot towards the lot of you. Its shape begins to become more humanoid, but it truly is mammoth in size -- easily one of the taller trees in this particulra forest. Other trees are knocked aside and uprooted as it makes its way towards you.

 

"I should've known," says the werewolf, "they'd get chicken and back out. That's why I completed this little ritual. Enjoy one of He Who Hungers' creations!"

Oh, and its leaves?

 

They'e dripping with blood.

 

Rawsone screams. No, seriously. The ranger lets out an inhuman howl that's not all that different from that of the werewolf, and she starts loosing arrow wildly, aiming at the tree as if trying to hurt it. Some of her arrows don't really seem to penetrate the thing's thick bark, but others do. Regardless, she looks...so terrified she's not even paying attention to the werewolf.

 

Karelin surges forwards, sword coming up, then around as he barrels into the fragment of He Who Hunger's will. His blade carves into the trunk, opening up a rent, and causing blood to spurt and spatter across him. Some sizzles on his Brand Spanking New Armor (tm), and some on his face. Its not clear what causes the greater scream.

 

"Oh, I intend to," Zak says, though he isn't exactly smiling. Particularly when he sees Rawsone's reaction to the treant. And then he gets that now-familiar wild look in his eyes, surges forward, and with a single inarticulate shout, he slices into the tree-thing with his glowing silver sword.

 

Gylf, with what is not so much a growl as a roar, *leaps* for the werewolf, making a credible effort at tearing out its throat.

 

The Veyshanti helps Gylf, Chandra move, her blade true. The blade stabbing deep into the wolf, and putting a very abrupt stop to the casting. The wound infused with ice, Chandra gives a smile, "No, you don't get to do that.."

 

Suddenly, two more trees, both of them next to Rawsone, suddenly uproot themselves. Really. With a shower of bloody drips as they do. Whatever magic is possessing the corrupted creature before you is now possessing other trees here as well. Oh, that's great. More trees. More EVIL trees with bleeding branches and leaves. When they HAVE leaves. This is winter after all.

 

It stains the snow crimson.

 

Speaking of staining things crimson, Karelin is p smashed into by a pair of massive fists made from woven branches, lifted into the air and then smashed back down into the ground in a masssive hammerfisted blow, leaving him an imprint, a bloody imprint, in the snow for a moment. That looks like it hurt. A lot.

 

Rawsone whirls around and begins backing away from the trees, but then Karelin is hurt. Hissing, she grinds her teeth and flies across the intervening distance. A blow that should have taken her head off merely breaks her collarbone, changing the tenor of her still-going scream. Gasping with pain, she lays a hand on Karelin. "Fanatical Eddie says be healed!" she hisses. "And then come to Fanatical Eddie's spell empori...gods, Zak."

 

"Sraaasha!" and Darshan's rewarded with the thump of a devoted nose. The sith grabs the saddlehorn, and heaves himself atop with the creak of leather. "I need you to run," he tells her, and she looks up. The great feet pace in the snow, suddenly anxious, and he adds, "very, very fast." Nothing he could've said could have made her happy, and the swift gives a bellow of pure, reptilian joy. He barely completes the prayer before she has them running through the treeline.

 

Karelin builds on the ridiculous momentum imparted upon him by the hammering tree, blood leaking from his nose, mouth, eyes and ears. Rawsone stops the new blood from flowing, but he's a mess behind his faceplate. He scythes his blade into the tree trunk over and over again, the bad angle deflecting the blade once. This time, he's more ready for the blood, and only a little eats at him, after all.

 

"Well, then. So much for the locusts. You prefer spiders? So be it!" He casts another spell, though this one is much quicker, and two great spiders appear behind him. Very big. Not as big as the treant, perhaps, but big.

 

"Got to admit, the man knows his market," Zak says, flashing Rawsone a brief grin. Which fades when he sees just how badly she was nearly hurt. "Damn shrubbery!" he shouts, adjusting his position slightly to slice into the tree some more. "This is worse'n the time Mayhem's friend brought the damn stables to life!" The acid sap is not helping his temper any.

 

Gylf, meanwhile, times his next lunge for the wolf to coincide with Chandra's attacks, giving her some defense against the wolf's retaliation.

 

Spiders, Chandra doesn't even notice, she's too busy making minced meat out of the wolf. Her blades ripping into him, causing him to bleed profusely all over. The snow getting red with its blood.

 

Rawsone can't seem to focus on the werewolf--she's too busy with the Evil Treant. "Gilead, make me like a tree as well, and my bow like the sword," she mutters, before peppering the bleeding tree with arrows. Only one seems to stick in far enough to do anything.

 

"Easy, easy--" Darshan and Srassha pace through the trees, the swift anxious to go. Branch after branch hits them, marking the sith like a bell on two legs. So the approach's accompanied by a ringing sound, and then a crunching, as he lets her loose and the two lunge into the back of the werewolf. "Rhaaaaaaaghhh!" and the sword glows bright, brighter, with some energy taken from Darshan, himself.

 

The werewolf is badly injured. Very badly. He dives back in an arching tumble up behind a tree, leaving the spiders to attack and get in the way. A spell is cast, this one seeming to seal many of his wounds. 

 

"Damn it," he hisses, "you.. you'll pay for that, you veyshan slut!" And then a glare at Darshan, "And you... *you* will suffer your own fate."

 

Karelin carves another bloody furrow in the tree, more flesh sizzles, and there is general more sound and fury than all that. The sword bounces away from the tree a few times, too.

 

Zak is bleeding, though the acid does at least cauterize his wounds. He barely seems to notice, focusing instead on hitting the tree a lot. He gives as good as he gets, at least.

 

Gylf growls, and lunges for the nearest spider, jaws snapping shut on thin air.

 

The spiders are nothing to Chandra, its like a vegamatic, or maybe its the bug-a-matic. She rips the thing apart, nasty bug guts, some frozen go flying everywhere as she works through the oversized arthropod. "I think you have it backwards, you foul animal, your pets will pay.." She spits the words at the wolf.

 

"...think I'd like that," wry, to the wolf. Darshan gives his own, flat look, and launches Srassha after him. Her great legs take them past the spiders (she'll probably curse him out later--her poor toes!). And once there, he removes some of that healing, bringing the blade down and low against the werewolf, who's probably, by now, justifiably pissed.

Rawsone screeches when she's hit again, though she seems to be able to slip through clinging branches easily enough. Dodging a swipe by one of the animated trees, she opens fire once more, turning the tree into a giant pincushion. Several of the arrows even appear to be annoying the treant now.

 

Karelin blurs, as he hacks at the tree. He swings a little less hard, and instead focuses on carving solid chunks into its trunk -- make the wedge, -then- chop it down, no matter how bloody this gets.

 

Webs are shot by the remaining spider at Chandrakanta, trying to get her under control. Unfortunately, the veyshan is slick as can be and manages to get out from under it.

 

Zak shouts "Damn well fall over already!" as he hacks at the tree some more, his blade throwing up sparks of crimson light. And spewing out more acid-blood. And Gylf sinks his teeth into the spider and worries at it a bit, snarling all the while.

 

No doubt Chandra will be thanking Gylf for his help when she's done, she is at it again, shredding the spider until there is nothing left but the nasty pulp. Parts flying, its absolutely gross the sound of the spider being hacked apart. A bit of the guts staining her coat, "You are next.." She warns the wolf.

 

THOOM THOOM THOOOM.

 

It suddenly bursts through, smashing into Zak, smashing Karelin down again. Only Rawsone is able to nimbly get out of the way and that's probably because she's flying. Acidic blood is left in its steps, staining the snow. The other two treants remain behind, trying to get a holf of Rawsone. Or smash her into the ground. It's hard to tell. Either way, they bleed too.

 

"Zak!" Rawsone just does not have good luck with evil trees--though at least she has decent luck in the dodging department. Ducking around the tree-trunk, she zooms right toward Zak, another of Fanatical Eddie's scrolls in her hand. "Be healed!" she says, completely ignoring the actual text as it crumbles into dust in her hands.

 

Karelin turns on the treant-types hammering Rawsone. He staggers away from the big tree's path, and into its -- striking away an arm-branch, then opening up the trunk. Finally, the bole-eyes go wide with shock as he cleaves through the trunk of the tree entirely, and the leafy top slides off and topples over with a sickening crunch.

 

"Oh no! Your eyes!" And then there's a flash of light from the werewolf's clawed hand and it strikes Darhsan full in the face. It leaps back thereafter with a cackle.

 

Darshan and the werewolf trade blows. The sword glows brightly, draining Darshan with each hit. He doesn't seem to mind, though. His poor, rusted armor hangs on in rags, and the look he gives the wolf--it says, more clearly than anything else, he wants to eat the damn thing alive. He heels Srassha around--and it's just in time to see the world go black.

 

"Thanks, love," Zak says with a brief grin to Rawsone. ANd then, with a salute for Karelin as he fells one of the lesser trees, Zak lunges for the greater one, calling out, "IN THE NAME OF THE HOUSE OF LORD FOUR OF BLAR, I COMMAND YOU TO FALL!" Pause. "AND SHUT UP!"

 

Gylf, snarling and barking, lunges for the retreating wolf. It should not be hard for even a blind lizard to find it at this rate.

 

Chandrakanta hasn't given up on the wolf, she forces her way towards it, "Averium keep my blade true." Her voice determined as she plunges her blade into the wolf, guided by her faith. She seems less blood thirsty when she goes after the wolf, she's already killed the spiders. Perhaps that is enough.

 

"Thanks." Rawsone looks between Zak and Karelin and then flies to the latter. "Be healed!" she calls, ignoring the smaller tree almost completely. *It* doesn't have dead people in its branches.

 

Darshan--can feel the armor rusting away. It hangs in shambles over the sith's form, and to him it's like losing a second skin, and it HURTS. Blind or not, he can feel it slipping away, moving away, and every peel makes him curse the werewolf more--with mount to guide him he drops from the saddle, and grabs hold of the dying creature. He barely can--a piece of armor falls at his feet and into the fur, the claws slip, too. By fortune, one of them finds purchase, barely, scraping off just enough to make the creature go limp. Almost by insult, the head falls forward, digging into his scale after it's killed, and the paladin's left well, just shaking.

 

Karelin grins savagely. "Thanks, Rawsone." Then he goes racing after Zak and the big tree! He ducks under the sweep of one big branch, then arrives, slamming his sword into the chopped up trunk. More blood sprays on his newly-healed skin.

 

Zak brings his blade around and slashes at the tree, again and again, until it falls at last. "Definitely worse than the time Mayhem brought the stables to life," he mutters.

 

--------------------------------

Here I'm missing one whole log :(.  If anyone else could replace this with it, that would be great!  But, in summary:

 

The treants vanquished, Our Heroes must next pull the sticky sap off of Zak and Karelin, because it sprouts roots and tries to burrow into their skin.  That done, Rawsone finds them a five-star camping spot and then cooks some amazing stew for supper.  Exhausted, they all fall asleep, even those on watch...

 

...and when they wake up, they find themselves in a completely different spot, green and beautiful.  Their fire has been turned into a heap of pennies, presumably courtesy of Penny.  Upon exploring, they come across a talking pegasus who tells them they have been transported into the Cradle of Nature and that they must now stop He Who Hungers, who is trying to free Garm.  The Pegasus takes them to Kor's Battlefields, where it says that He Who Hungers and Nikmok have been collecting the souls of people who were not able to make it into the Battlegrounds proper. 

 

With that, on we go to the next log...

------------------------------

Well.

 

When last we left our bold heroes in the middle of their planar journey, there was a GIANT BOULDER sailing through the sky, looming overhead. It appeared to've been launched by a catapault from somewhere on top of one the nearby hills. The boulder sails through the air, coming crashing down in the middle of where everyone was standing. Thankfully, none of you were standing underneath it anymore at that point because it would've hurt to've been.

 

A lot.

 

The shockwave of the boulder's impact, however, picks everyone up, tossing them through the air. Everyone is fast enough on their feet, even Zak and Darshan, to come out of this standing up and otherwise mostly undazed. Mostly. A giant boulder still fell right in the spot all of you were standing. 

 

...it gets better, however. You see, that wasn't just an isolated boulder. It was just the first boulder. More start coming. A horn sounds.

 

Another horn sounds. These horns are sounding from opposite hills. You begin to hear the sounds of marching feet, coming from those opposite directions.

 

Not only did you get sent to the Battleground, but you just got dropped in a very, very bad spot. between two opposing armies.

 

Rawsone grabs Zak by the sleeve and pulls him back, while somehow also managing to keep her own balance. "Why on *Gaea* would anyone want to spend eternity here?" she snaps, glancing around to try to figure out where they can escape these armies. "Rochanna, just...run if you need to." The horse doesn't seem to understand that, but *does* understand that flying rocks are bad.

 

As Chandra rolls and ends up back on her feets she begins to take in the spanse of the landscape and the boulder that cracks when it strikes, "They need to learn to put us on higher ground when they are going to drop us somewhere randomly.' The words a bit gruff, as if she doesn't enjoy being thrust in the middle of a battlefield. She brushes off, "Which way should be go?" Looking between both armies at war.

 

Zak doesn't so much tumble gracefully out of the way as just plain dive for the ground even after Rawsone pull shim back, hugging the ground as the boulder crashes. Just as quickly, he's on his feet, looking around wildly. "Does lack a certain...what're them things, nice places have 'em, Lilly told me once. Ambients. Them things."

 

Karelin dives down, though the singing has faded to humming. He picks himself up, rolls to his knees, then gets up and starts trying to peer into the distance, at the armies. "Where does the penny think we should go?"

 

"Penny's not here." Rawsone tilts her head to the side as if listening, and turns in a full circle before shaking her head. "That way or that way," she says, pointing first west and then east. "But we'll probably run into scouts or cavalry or whatever no matter which way we go."

 

Chandrakanta motions to the south, "That way seems more menacing, then that.." Her motions point to the army that direction.

 

Banners and spears crest the top of the hill as one of the armies reaches the top slightly before the others. It appears to be made of lightly armored humans in a phalanx with breastplate, shield, and spear. They begin pushing down the hill slowly.

 

From the other direction is, well... a horde.

 

Orcs.

 

Lots and lots and lots of orcs.

 

Karelin nods. "War is the natural state here." He watches the army crest. He nods to Rawsone. "Either way." He points west. "That way, then? Think about where we are going. The last time I was here" ... "the land would change a little when we did."

 

"Wherever we go, let's go there now," Zak says, not actually drawing a weapon yet. "Least somewhere where we ain't in the middle of two godsdamn armies. And if we run into scouts and such, we'll deal with it then."

 

Rawsone eyes Karelin as if he's suddenly sprouted wings, but she nods. "West, then." She whistles for Rochanna, then starts in that direction. "Going to be near impossible to look for tracks, that's the case," she adds in a disgruntled mutter.

 

Karelin's teeth show, as he grins at Rawsone. Maybe he will sprout wings. "Let's go." Then he makes to do just that.

 

Gylf bounds ahead as well. He doesn't seem to mind the place at all. But then, it's probably not *that* different than the plane where he was raised. "If that's the case, then we stick together. No ranging ahead out of sight of the rest of us." He may be looking at Chandra when he says this.

 

Another horn sounds.

 

Orcish drummers begin to bash their war drums and the orcish warriors charge down the hill. More catapaults fire. Flaming arrows are launched. The battle is beginning to be waged and you're right in the middle of it -- or were, anyways. Given that you're getting out of here as quickly as possible, you're soon able to make it into the foothills to the west of the battle. You can still hear a lot of screams of 'KOR' and perhaps even a few 'WITNESS!' yelled. Of course, given that this is one of Kor's hangouts, it is quite probable that he is witnessing all of it.

 

As you crest the top of the next hill, you catch sight of a group of cavalryman another hill over. They appear to have spotted you.

 

Chandrakanta moves with the others, "Its not my fault I am better at walking softly and using the surrounding to conceal myself, Zak, but I will try to avoid doing that." She brushes off a little dust from her dark attire.

 

Once they're a little ways out, Rawsone starts glancing down at the ground, looking for wolf tracks. There's a bit of a groan when she spots the calvary. "Don't suppose they'll leave us alone, do you?"

 

"Yeah, I know it's a stretch," Zak says with a snort to Chandra, and then he draws level with Rawsone. Looking toward the cavalry. "Don't seem likely, does it? Guess we'll wait and see. Don't try'n run from them, just go about our business, see what happens." Gylf is snuffling at the ground, apparently with a similar idea to Rawsone's.

 

"Well, the sounds like a familar cry, maybe that will aid us." Chandra gives Karelin a glance. Brows lifted. She seems to be going out of her way to try to not make too much noise as she moves along.

 

The Cavalry hangs back a moment, but then begins to lope down the hill they're on, heading in your direction. There's perhaps two dozen of them. Light cavalry, it'd seem. Men with lance and bow.

 

Rawsone nods to Zak and keeps searching. "'S too many," she says after a moment, shaking her head. "Can't make heads or tails of any of this." Keeping her bow in hand, she eyes the cavalry as they sweep down the hill, but does as Zak suggests and doesn't do anything more than that.

 

Zak doesn't reach for any of his weapons, though they're all kept close to hand. He just moves forward, looking toward the cavalry as they approach. As they get closer, he'll acknowledge them with a nod, but nothing more.

 

With thundering hooves, the horseman go up the hill to where you're at, coming to a halt. "Put your hands up where we can see them and state your presence here! You're not orcs from the look of you. What is your business so close to the battle? You're not fellow travellers, are you?" He glares at all of you suspiciously.

 

It's odd -- they bear a symbol on their shields, all of them, but it seems... indiscernable. almost constantly changing.

 

Rawsone glances over at Zak and then puts her hands in the air, slipping the bowstring over her shoulder as she does so. "Been sent by Gilead," she explains. "Have no quarrel with you. Looking for someone who shouldn't be here."

 

Zak does not put his hands in the air, but he does keep them fairly visible, in front of him. "We ain't a part of your fight, whatever it is. We're just passin' through. And we'll just keep right on passin' through, if it's all the same to you." There's not exactly a challenge there, but he's definitely not addressing the man as though he thinks there's any authority to be had.

 

Chandrakanta moves her hands just away from her body, fingers outstretched a bit. She lets the other two try speaking first before she add anything, waiting to see the response.

 

"Looks like we've got some tough guys here," says the one behind him and to the left and the one at the head waves him off. "Everyone here is tough, Marcus. Relax. They wouldn't be in the Battleground if they couldn't take a hit. You don't... *belong* here? Come with us. We'll take you to our camp."

 

Rawsone looks at Zak again, and shakes her head slowly. "Need to stop someone doing something." She is subtle, just like Agnes! "Could be trying to do it right now. 'Less you know where they are, need to keep going, try to find them. Could destroy the world, we don't stop 'em."

 

"Hospitality's appreciated, but she's right. We've business to be about, and stopping ain't such a good notion," Zak says after a moment, never taking his eyes off the men. Eyes which narrow, slightly.

 

"Kind as the offer is, we really have to move on." Chandra speaks up, "I am sure you understand, we want to get back to where we do belong as soon as we can." She looks over the man who seems to be a little less suspicious of their presence. "Only way to do that is to finish this task."

 

"What exactly are you after -- perhaps we can assist you? IS there something specific?" They're glancing at each other, seemingly concerned about it all.

 

Rawsone starts to say something, then catches the look on Zak's face and hesitates, letting him speak first.

 

Zak relaxes, after a moment. A little. "Probably best you folks stay clear of this business, much as the notion of allies appeals. We're lookin' for Garmites. Ain't exactly clear what they're here for, but if they're after it, it's a safe bet they shouldn't have it."

 

When Zak says 'Garmites', they all look a little confused. Perhaps the name is foreign to them.

 

"Really think we should turn away help?" Rawsone asks quietly, before supplying, "Werewolves. Caracoroth's followers. Want to set him free. Have some crazy idea's goign to destroy the world and maybe all the planes too or something."

 

Darshan sits quietly at the saddle, the leather creaking slowly in contrast to the louder atmosphere, and watches the Chainbreaker with a quiet, almost perplexed expression as he speaks. Srassha keeps looking between the two, back and forth, and a rope-like column of drool quivers, jewel-like, from reptilian mouth. Now, isn't that pretty?

 

Chandrakanta raises a brow when the others explain so much to the strangers, 'And we really would like to stop them, so, can we go on?" She is to the point.

 

"Werewolves?" Now they're glancing back and forth here.

 

"There'd been rumors of such a thing -- men who can change into wolves being spotted aobut the Battleground. They're not typically seen here, honestly. Their kind usually stays far away. They appear to be heading deep into the edges of the Battlegrounds. Rumor is they're gathering up a goodly number of Fallen Souls."

 

"...think I don't want to give those bastards extra targets," Zak says, equally quietly, to Rawsone. "But you've got a point." A look back at the leader, and he nods. "If you could, at the least, point us in the right direction, we'd be obliged."

 

"Fallen souls?" Rawsone glances at Zak and frowns slightly, but nods. And, since they no longer seem to be particularly threatening, she'll take her bow back into her hand. Hey, the orcs -could- show back up.

 

Karelin looks up, and from face to face, from the back. "He's being kind. There will be a fight. And it will be glorious. But the werewolves are ours to deal with. Ours."

 

"Wolves...mrm, anything else?" Darshan asks, leaning forward against the lizard's back. The voice is quiet, low, just enough to pitch through the clamour. He licks his jaws, and looks back, then forward again.

 

"Those who fell in dishonor, or seek to gain entry into the Battleground despite having failed to earn it in life, or.. They exist out of grace with Kor -- or often with other Gods. They exist here on the outskirts in the hopes that they will one day be rewarded with entry into the Battleground. They are desperate souls," he explains, shaking his head. "Follow me. We will guide you to the proper direction."

 

Zak glances briefly at Karelin, and then shrugs, turning back toward the leader. "Folks like that...damn. That makes a little too much sense. These particular bastards have a thing for getting folk with no other hope wrapped up with 'em. Offering them a chance at something better, but with one hell of a catch, and by the time they figure it out, they're beyond caring that they're all chained up all over again." A pause. "All right. Lead on. And faster's better."

 

"Appreciate it," Rawsone says, nodding at the leader. Since the men are mounted, she whistles Konyo and Rochanna back over and climbs up on the latter's back.

 

Karelin just gets his nameless horse, though. Poor thing, always forgotten.

 

"Krsaa, Srassha," Darshan murmurs, nudging her forward. She makes a sound, and steps ahead, big feet pacing over the crunch and grind of...no, don't look down there. But her feet grind, step over, on things. Some squish, some snap, some break. The army, armies? deserve a second and third look. He leans over partway, looking over the weaponry. "Yes, fast," he says, distracted, to Zak's comment, and exhaling sharply, moves to look straight ahead.

 

Chandrakanta is the only one who is without a horse, she waits for Karelin to get on his mount, "I'll ride with you.." She nods, "yes, lets get there with haste.."

 

The instant Rawsone has mounted, Rochanna swerves toward the leader and his horse. "Rochanna! No! What--oh. Already -had- apples today," she tells the horse, pulling it away from the leader.

 

It's too late. The hrose's nose impacts the saddlebag and pops open, outspilling apples which are promptly munched on.

 

Apple bits go everywhere. Not even planar apples are safe from Rochanna.

 

Zak climbs up into Konyo's saddle as well, as Gylf takes a place at his side. He just shakes his head at Rochanna's antics, and tries to suppress a smile.

 

Darshan looks back, and grins. It's hesitant, but he does--"Mrm, have rations--nothing she'd like to eat, though," he calls back, wry. And looks ahead again, finding humor in it, somehow. And then the look settles on the army, again. "Alot of lances. ...you have an extra?" he asks, leaning over in the saddle. "I've a mrm, mind to impale a few werewolves with one."

 

"But I'm *hungry*," a voice with its accompanying mouth full whines. "And he has lots of apples." Rawsone freezes in the saddle, looking around for the voice's provenance. "And they're not dry!" The voice...appears to be coming from Rawsone's horse, yes.

 

Karelin gives Chandra a hand up, then waits to go. He's singing again. "Whisper the name of the enemy mine. Blessed be my fate and my tools of expedience. I'm going to fulfil ... my mission divine."

 

Chandrakanta sits up when the horse starts speaking, really, she's close to saying 'wtf' from the look in her eyes. It could come from the song Karelin is singing as well

 

Zak closes his eyes for a moment. A long moment. And then he turns toward Gylf. "...not really a lot of room to throw stones there, boy," he mutters. It is just possible that Gylf has mentioned something about horses not being meant to talk.

 

And Darshan does a double take. A triple. He gapes, jaw-dropping to stare at Rawsone's horse. The sith seems to choke, a shuddering hiss coming from the throat, and he turns, slowly. Slowly, to look at Srassha. The faint, horrified look grows, and he stares hard at her neck, and then slowly, back again to Rawsone's horse. "Srassha," it's strangled, "One--no. Just...no."

 

"..ah...yes. Sorry about that." The apples are quicjkly gathered up by one of the sheepish looking lancers and are piled back inside of the other's apples and, well, anyways. They begin to lead the way. None of them are commenting on Rawsone's horse suddenly being able to talk. Perhaps they've decided its best to pretend that it isn't happening. Or they're used to it. Possibly the latter, given the amused whickers that come from their own.

 

As you move out of the hills, you find yourselves making your way into what appears to be, of all things, a desert. In deed, when you glance back over your shoulders, it is like you've been in the desert for quite some time. Up ahead of you appears to be a lonely little outpost.

 

"There," he points, "there. In the outpost are lost souls. They could perhaps point you in the right direction."

 

Rawsone is still frozen, staring down at Rochanna. "Tell him he smells," the horse directs Zak, eyeing the overlarge dog as it starts to move after all the rest. "-And- that I think he's afraid of the Cat." It's a good thing Rawsone's a good rider, or she'd have fallen out of her saddle when the horse started moving. "Can we get some more apples for later?" the horse asks.

 

"Good a place to start as any, I reckon," Zak says, turning his face toward the outpost. He seems to be completely ignoring Rochanna. It may be best for his dubious grip on sanity.

 

"Ah..." says the sith. And that's all he says. Except there's another, quieter look at Rawsone's beast, and perhaps, a subtle stepping to the side, lest it catch, like cooties. "Mrm...yes. One's thanks," he says, finally, looking up again. Distracted. ANd despite himself, he stares at the horse some more. What if it's catching?

 

Karelin nods to the men. "Thank you." He studies the outpost, as he moves forwards.

 

Chandrakanta shakes her head when the horse complains, she holds onto Karelin's armor as they ride to the outpost in the desert, 'It like being back in Veyshan.." The remark comes with that none too thrilled tone of voice.

 

"No more apples," Rawsone mutters, almost reflexively. She's probably afraid that that's what made Rochanna talk in the first place. "How about a roll in the dirt, then? Can you get down and take off my saddle so I can roll? This dirt looks really nice," Rochanna observes. Rawsone glances over at Zak, suddenly not at all envious of his bond with Gylf "Gotta find the Children first. Then we'll see," she mutters.

 

"This is serious, Rochanna," Zak says, without looking toward the horse. "Keep calm and quiet now, and I promise you all the apples you can...a lot of apples, when we get home." A pause. "And Gylf says he's not afraid of the Cat, but he has to set an example for the other dogs these days."

 

"Good luck," say the riders once you're a little closer to the Outpost and then reel back on their horses, dissapearing into the sands unless someone actually stops them.

 

...and they left a few apples for Rawsone. For Rochanna, of course.

 

The outpost itself is a number of shoddy looking, stone buildings. And from the smell, never has there been a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

 

There are no walls. There is an oasis in the center of it that serves as the watering hole -- though most of the people here seem to be either on the street, staring dejectedly into space, or in the REAL watering hole. That's actually called 'The Watering Hole' judging by the sign on its side.

 

Darshan takes a place in the line a nice distance away from Rawsone...'s beast. "At least the..." weather's pleasant. But he stares, still, instead, and he's still staring until they reach the outpost. And perhaps, occasionally, and slowly, scratching Srassha's neck. Whatever he's thinking, he just shoves back down. Deal with it later. "...Kylie'd love her," he finds it, eventually, to say. A look over at Rochanna. "You'll...when we get back," he says at last.

 

Karelin gets ready to drop down, and enter The Watering Hole. He does like a hive of scum and villainy!

 

"Oh, all *right*," Rochanna says, shaking out her mane and reaching over to nip Konyo now that Rawsone isn't exerting any control at all. "He still smells," she informs Zak. Rawsone...may still be in shock, from the look of things.

 

Chandrakanta slides off the horse, she isn't going to wait for others to hit the ground. She seems to be looking all about at the structures and the people, "What do you think are they looking for?' She asks.

 

Zak dismounts not long after Chandra does. Possibly because he doesn't particularly want Konyo to start talking too. "This shard thing, whatever the hell that is. Or that old woman. Or a big red button that says "Press here to release Garm." Made by gnomes, I shouldn't wonder. Seems like the kind of thing gnomes'd make."

 

"Garm's prison, yeah. Didn't ever realize it was -here-, though," Rawsone says, finally recovering herself as she slips off the horse, doing her best to ignore it. It, however, does not want to be ignored. "I'm going to get some water, be right back." She heads toward the oasis.

 

Drooly makes a lunge for the oasis supply once Darshan slides off, nostrils quivering, thirsty and curious. Her rider squawks, grabbing at the single rein, and for a moment there's a silent tug of war, with the lizard looking out towards the oasis, and back at her rider. "...mrm. So we think it's here, then?" he reaches up, and grasps hold of something from Srassha's pack. A heavy, cloth feedbag. "Or more, some people we could talk to? ...heeeey..."

 

When Karelin goes inside the watering hole, almost immediately, you hear 'WITNESS!" And someone goes flying out the window. Not actually done by Karelin, but it would appear his arrival prompts the immediate start of a bar brawl. A moment later someone goes flying through the wall.

 

A number of men are seated on the ground by the oasis. "..tastes like ash," one tells Rawsone when she comes close to it.

 

"What are you hear for?" asks another.

 

Obviously this mission is getting to everyone, Chandra cracks a smile when Zak rambles. And then the eruption from the bar, "Well, I guess there is no subtle approach to getting things taken care of around here.." She heads towards the watering hole.

 

"I'm getting a drink," Rochanna the horse tells the men. "And don't try to steal me. I don't want to hurt anyone." She will attempt to drink from the oasis, while Rawsone continues to pretend that her. horse. is. not. talking. "Not here. Just trying to find someone who knows where they are," the ranger reminds Darshan as she follows Karelin inside.

 

"...scuse me," Zak says as that man flies through the window, and starts heading toward the bar as well. He gives Chandra a brief grin before he goes. Gylf, meanwhile, pads toward the oasis as well. The Loudmouth Horse must be protected, after all.

 

Karelin grins, as he looks around. He gestures with a fist, orders a pint, and looks around. "So." He gestures, waiting for the first person in the bar brawl to come to him. He punches, if appropriate, and askes. "Where are the Garmites?" Its not his -most- subtle approach, but it'll do.

 

Rochanna eyes Gylf as he approaches, and promptly reaches down to nip at him. Gotta show him who's boss. Luckily, Rawsone is inside so she doesn't see. Instead, she frowns, glancing over at Zak. "Wonder if Gilead's realm has places like this," she says quietly, as if she assumes that that's where she might eventually end up.

 

"I doubt the outlands of that plane is like this..' Chandra winces Karelin just starts asking about.

 

"...they don't really teach that whole diplomacy thing in Kor's temple, do they?" Zak asks Karelin quietly. A pause, and then he shrugs to Rawsone. "I reckon anywhere there's folk, there'll be places they get together and drink." A pause. "That ain't what you were asking, I know. But I don't know the answer."

 

Karelin grunts. "They wanted a bar fight." He grins at Zak. "I -can- do it."

 

"Just wonder...thought it might have been cruel, letting me see it," Rawsone says quietly, though she doesn't push the conversation further than that.

 

The barfight definitely goes on for sometime, but it would appear that at least a little information is forthcoming. Lots of people lunge at Karelin. Fight hin. In the meantime, however, others are talking to Zak and Rawsone, the latter getting an eyeballing, ".. you're looking for *them*, ain't you. You're just in time, then. They should be here soon. Make rounds. Gathering up lost souls.." They don't have any bones about it, really. They know what they are, and they know why you're here. The planes are funny that way.

 

All of you have the distinct impression, for just a moment, that you are being watched.

 

"Don't reckon Gilead's in the business of bein' cruel to his followers," Zak replies, keeping his voice as low as he can, given the circumstances. "Well, that ought to make things easier."

 

"Should we...well, suppose we can do something with these and then track 'em back. Doubt *he'll* be with 'em," Rawsone opines, glancing somewhat nervously at the door. "Better this way, won't have to fight all of 'em at once."

 

Karelin's eyes slit, as he stops. "I. Hate..." He shakes his head, backs off on the fighting with a series of rough cuffs. He grunts, and steps back to Zak and Rawsone and Chandra, face suddenly grim. "They're being led by a stone giant." Nostrils flare. "That's what I hear."

 

Srassha plunges her head into the watering bag Darshan'd produced, slopping it everywhere and onto the ground, but most of it ends up in her gullet. One hopes. He listens, but doesn't seem to have much to add--just sort of...hitches his sword back into place. Reassuring that it's there, before turning back to holding the bag. But he is listening. There's that look to him.

 

"...great. A giant werewolf. Definitely ain't had my fill of *those*," Zak says with a groan.

 

"'Ll be Nikmok, probably. Though He Who Hungers's some kind of giant too." Rawsone says, moving to the window and peering out.

 

"Well, its not like we have a choice but to face it." Chandra says with a shrug, she is past the point of getting exasperated over this. She expects the worse.

 

Karelin nods. "Its Nikmok."

 

"Wish we'd managed to kill him the first time. Nearly did, but Zathes insisted we leave," Rawsone mutters. "Maybe we should be outside?" she suggests. Rochanna, having drunk her fill, wanders back toward the other horses.

 

"So we'll kill him twice as hard this time," Zak says with a shrug. Because, of course, it's just that simple.

 

Darshan adds, "Tell him the new eye's from his son," blandly, and scratches Srassha's head. It's sort of a melancholy, dark humor there. Sort of resigned. "There, girl. Mrm, slow, eh?" Srassha snorts, spraying water, and plunges in again--to find it's all...gone. "What can you tell me about the dad?"

 

Karelin nods once. "I've taken the son's head. I'll take the father's too." He steps outside, nostrils flaring.

 

"Werewolf. Cleric. Stone giant," Rawsone tells Darshan, shrugging. "Powerful--nearly took us all with him. Throws stones, hits hard. 'Bout what you'd expect." Rochanna sticks her head inside. "Are you done yet?" the horse asks.

 

There.

 

One can see a long ways in a calm desert -- and this one is calm just now but the clouds overhead indicate that, soon, a sandstorm will be brewing. The taste of ash is ever present in each of your mouths and even to those with less sensitive nostrils, the air feels heavy and stale. Eternity in a small desert town is not pleasent thing to have and brawls seem common. There's people fighting everywhere.

 

Everywhere.

 

But all of that has paused for the return of the 'recruiter'. The one seeking soldiers for the army of He Who Hungers -- rumored to march into glorious battle and carve a pathway into Battleground proper for those souls that join him. All of you can see his form cresting the top of the hill and the dozens of lost souls with him, no doubt from one of the other 'towns' here in the Battleground on his latest recruitment journey. To some, he is familiar. Nikmok, a cleric of Garm and Stone Giant. He is covered in skins -- some of them, yes, appear to be human, but others are of no doubt great beasts he's slain. His head is crowned by a great pair of antlers, attached to the skin of perhaps the greatest elk any of you have ever seen, and that makes up his cloak and hood.

 

The soldiers behind him appear to be a mix -- but all of them stumble with him, following him with the sort of determination that only a lost soul in desperate hope of redemption can manage.

 

"I'll just stay here by the water. In case of fire," Rochanna informs them all, helpfully. "I'll keep an eye on the dog." For once, Rawsone isn't paying her talking horse any attention--instead, she's hissing over at Nikmok, what with antlers being a nature god thing and all. "C'mon," she says grimly, starting to move in that direction.

 

Karelin straightens up, squinting through the crystal lens of his magical eyes at the approaching figure. He hums away under his breath, words slipping out from time to time "Stand your ground," eyes go up as he regards the approaching giant, taking in the family resemblance, "this is what we are fighting for."

 

Licking lips suddenly gone dry, "We need an army. We're on the battleground without one."

 

"Easy," Zak says, putting a hand on Rawsone's shoulder. "That's an army he's got." A brief nod to Karelin. "I was thinking maybe we could take his," he says. And he may or may not be serious.

 

Mouth moving, Darshan seems to be cursing, or committing things to the gods. He hauls Srassha around, fishing in his pack as he does. A small vial, silver in tint--he grasps it by the neck, begins to spread it over a half-burned blade. "Easy, girl--" dry laughter. "One wishes I had one for your claws, but mrm, you're my legs today." He pats her neck, and, cracking the vial's head, begins to pour it onto the blade, with Srassha pacing underneath.

 

Rawsone turns to Zak and frowns slightly. "Then we'll fight it. Or...think we should go around, try to hit their trail, go find He Who Hungers? Might actually be best, now I think of it. 'Specially with this storm coming up. Not going to find the tracks after otherwise."

 

Chandrakanta pulls her rapier. "We will have to do this with only the warm bodies we have here.." She is looking hard at the crowd around the giant. Her faced touched with uncomfortable recognition of the dead.

 

Each step from Nikmok sends a plume of sand in all directions. The wind is already beginning to pick up as well, little swirls of sand getting it in your armor, in your eyes from time to time. It's uncomfortable, but it won't interfere, not yet. They begin to descend the hillside and all others here in the town that are outside are busy staring, nervously, off into the distance.

 

Karelin looks to Zak. "Take it?" A nod. "If you can, do it." He looks around the oasis. "We can stand..."He trails off, losing the thread. A glance at Rawsone and a nod. "I don't know if this is the right place to be elusive, if we're not also being aggressive." Then he, too, brings out a pot of silvery ungent and starts applying it to his sword. As the black metal starts looking silver, he looks around. "Just as long as we don't lose these ones, too."

 

"See," Zak says to Chandra, stepping forward as he does, "That's the part I ain't so sure of." A smile at Rawsone. "No, I was thinking we'd face him here and now. But...there's something I've got to do. Those poor bastards were given the choice I was given a hell of a long time ago. And they chose badly. But..." And he smiles. And raises his voice. "Maybe it's never too late. Not for them, not for us, and not for these other folk 'round here who've lost their way."

 

Rawsone turns to eye Zak a moment and then laughs, nervously. "Anyone can talk 'em out of it, 's you," she says, although it doesn't sound as if she completely believes that. Rochanna is doing her best to try to hide behind a few palm trees near the oasis. "Just make sure we find out where He Who Hungers is 'fore we kill 'em all," she points out. "Important thing is to stop him."

 

"These are the Planes of Kor. Heroes, warriors," the words come suddenly, like he'd been pouring them over in his head. "And it's more than that. They've got more than a second chance. They've got a Son of the General," firmly. Darshan looks at Zak. Whatever that means, he seems to believe it. And lifts his chin. He seems to believe if the man called, he'd have an army.

 

"You've inspired a lot of people to change Zak.." Chandra probably means herself included, she reaches into her belt, pulling a vial of her own. She doesn't yet apply something to her sword.

 

Chandrakanta checks the vial she grabbed and the swallows the oil quickly. Her skin hardens to the wind, and the sand that is stirred by the coming giant. "Being here, having made it this far, we know the gods are with us. We could not have come this far without their hands at our backs."

 

Karelin straightens up, and throws aside his cloak, showing off Kor's symbols on his pauldrons. "We're in the land of battle, here. You make your own fate here." He raises his voice, invoking his god, invoking the spirit of the people at the oasis: "Find it in you, raise your eyes, look beyond the place you stand." He spreads his arms, and grins savagely. "Here, Kor sees you, sees the choices you make. There is a chance for glory here. No need of Sun to light the way. Across the ages we have reigned as we endured. Through the storm fronts we will ever surely pass to stand as neverending light!" He lowers his arms and steps back, looking towards the others, making eye contact with the souls around him. Fervour burns in his eyes.

 

 

"Years ago, before men could count, a General was put in charge of Heaven's armies," flatly, growling. "I want you to LISTEN! Today, a Son of that General stands before you," a claw's jabbed in Zak's direction, and Darshan kicks Srassha around, leaving her snorting, pacing. "And he offers you a second chance. Months ago, he was set on a journey by the gods themselves, and today he will stand before you and announce its reckoning! Today the gods will call on the warriors of Kor, and ask for an army worthy of the heavens to stop the freeing of Carocoth. THAT BEAST!" Another jab, another gesture, a snarl, a fevered look that says 'damnit, I rolled a 30!'. "/That/, is your enemy. The beast would sunder the world, who gathers an army to oppose yours. Listen to what this man has to say." And that would be Zak. "Listen to the General's son!"

 

Rawsone eyes the others, and shakes her head slightly. "Ought t' do it 'cause it's the right thing to do," she mutters. "Bad as The Horse, just want rewards." "I *heard* that," says The Horse. Who's still hiding.

 

Chandrakanta upon the hearing the others pulling rally cries to pull the crowd, she pauses to consider before adding her own words. She's more brief and less flowery then the others. "It doesn't take the blood of general to make a stand for what one may have been inside you. This is when you find the wrongs inside and work to regain the glory within. This man, this general's son was a slave. We've all been slaves beit to a person or to a things, break your bonds that brought you to this dim place and come join us."

 

Zak laughs a little at Darshan's words. And takes a deep breath. "All I can do is talk," he says, though he looks to the sky as he says it. "It's on them to listen, or not. On them to decide. But I wouldn't turn down a little help choosin' the right words." And then he raises his voice further. "My name is Zak. It ain't the name I was born with, and it ain't the name's gonna be set down in some fancy books when I'm gone on to wherever I go. But it's my name. It's a slave-name, a number-name, a name most folk wouldn't be proud to have. I reckon some of you have some names you've been given, especially now. I expect 'lost souls' is what people say when they're bein' polite, but it ain't what you're really called, is it?" A pause. "That's the problem with names like that, the worthless scum names, the lost soul names, the cowardly bastard names. You get called 'em often enough, you start believing them. And those names, they're heavy. They weigh you down, they press on you, and press and press, til you can't do nothing else but live with the weight.

 

And then the day comes when you've got a choice. You can either collapse under it all. Or maybe you let someone lift some of it off you, in exchange for some nice chains of silver, or chains of fire, or chains of fang and fur. Chains that turn out to be as heavy as whatever it was they took away. Or," and here Zak takes a deep breath, and his next words thunder.

 

"You can find a way to stand! It ain't easy, and it ain't easy, and it *really* ain't easy, and it's every day of a long life, and afterwards too, I reckon. And you get knocked flat on your back, you get broken down and worn down but as long as you stand up again, you're free. As long as you can stand, you can do anything, you hear me? Anything! And it's never, never too late to stand. Not even now, not even when you're dead and in this place! This place of all places, you can stand on your own damn two feet, and anyone tells you different, you can damn well spit in their eye! Anyone tells you you need to follow them and they'll set you free? That one is a LIAR!" He's bellowing now, loudly enough for Nikmok's army to hear his words. "You, and only you, and it will only EVER be you, can set you free! Because that's what free is, it's standing up, on your own two feet, in spite of everything, in spite of armies, in spite of the end of the godsdamn world! You stand, you face it, you take that name that's wearing you down, and you make it yours! And you stand alone, even when you're blessed enough to stand beside folks with like minds, folks who've learned that hardest lesson too."

 

"His name is Karelin, and he, like me, used to be a slave, til he learned to stand, to demand that the lord of this place keep an eye out for him! His real name I can't hardly pronounce, but I can come close, and it's Darshan. He's torn back and forth between two different worlds, two different lives, and he's doin' the damn near impossible and standing between both of them, making walkin' a path through the world of men and dragons of gods. Her name's Chandrakanta, and she, like a lot of folks, turned her back on an old life for something new, something a hell of a lot tougher. And her name is Rawsone, and she's done her damnedest to follow the gods even when she thought they'd turn their back on her, she's given more of herself than anyone I've ever known, and though she'd never believe it, she's stood taller than many I've known, under a heavier burden.

 

"And *his* name is Nikmok. And he ain't standing at all. He's being hoisted around by chains of blood and bone, chains that won't even let him die, if what I hear's true. Sure, he seems tough, because chains are strong and sturdy, but they're chains that were forged to hold a sick and raving beast in place, a beast that should be put out of his misery, if anyone could do the deed. And he wants nothing more than to poke that beast with sticks, so it can drag him and you and me and all of us around in its chains."

 

"And me? My name is Zak, it's a heavy damn name but it is mine, and today I can stand up under it. Can anyone else stand up? Under all that weight, can you throw off those chains and bear the weight of your past and your future like men, and not like slaves? CAN YOU STAND UP WITH ME?"

 

 

In the short silence following Zak's words, a series of quiet thumps can be heard--the sound of horseshoes on sand. Rochanna, head and tail down and ears laid back, nearly pushes Rawsone over with the resulting nuzzle. Well, that's one convert, at least.

 

In the meantime, the ranger simply stares at her husband, shaking her head just slightly at the part about herself but otherwise staying quiet and letting him have his say. She, it seems, has nothing to add.

 

 

The barrage of words from Zak are jaw dropping, really if Chandra didn't already have hero-worship going on, she would now. She looks around to see if people are coming out of the woodwork to join their fight.

 

It's a trickle at first.

 

They emerge from the saloons and houses to listen as each of the long-suffering heroes speak. They trickle at first, yes, but then more come. And then more come. And then more, pouring out of every building and assembling here in the courtyard of it, listening with an intensity that begins burning in their eyes as Zak speaks. Swords are drawn.

 

Then there is a rumbling. It's not an earthquake, no, but it certainly feels like one that is shaking the plane itself. Rather, it is the force of the cheers, of the renewed hope in the eyes of these sullen, lost souls. Each of you, it would appear, in turn have acted in a way that has granted them strength and hope. They seem... rejuvenated. The taste of ash vanishes from your mouths and the sandstorm itself ceases. The sky brightens and the waters of the oasis purify.

 

Misery, it would appear, is at least partially self inflicted. The return of hope has lightened their burden and in the strength of newfound conviction has reshaped this little piece of desert into somethign more... livable. Worth defending. Worth fighting for.

 

The army of Nikmok reaches the a crest of a dune outside it and stops there.

 

Nikmok lifts his head, studying the land beneath with fierce intensity and those with him, still more lost souls, stop as well.

 

In the distance, a horn sounds.

 

 

Karelin straightens up, proud, looking around at the petitioners. His jaw is clenched, challenging and rises as the army reaches the crest of the dune. He stares back at Nikmok, intense, wanting.

 

 

"Ah. So, the General has his army," Darshan lets out a breath, and pats Srassha's scaled head. "Mrm, something for the history books, girl. Something to tell our kin. In Am'shere, they call Him Eater of Chains. Here, it is not so different. There's just going to be alot of blood," and he starts weaving, asking the gods for something--a prayer. A protective layer settles on the sith's bare shoulders, a warming gray which settles before fading inwards. As he does, Srassha bobs her head and paces, moving to a position behind and to Zak's flank. A Daeusite could be one to take 'members of an army' seriously. And he lifts his chin at its soldiers, eyes shining. And raises his sword. Waiting for a cue.

 

"Stay here, girl. Can't shoot worth spit off your back anyway," Rawsone tells the horse, but Rochanna shakes her head. "'M going with you," she insists. "Stomp on some wolves." There's a slight pause. "If I make it, I want that apple you're hiding in your pouch." Rawsone just laughs, and nods, before turning back to her husband and giving him a radiant smile, pressing a couple of fingers to her lips before pressing them to his. "I'll stand with you," she says quietly. "Always have." Horses can't roll their eyes. This is a good thing. Anyway, Rawsone activates that armor she's got, though she stays on the ground for now.

Even Zak is a little taken aback by the change in both people and landscape. But he then breaks out with an enormous grin. "I know it," he murmurs to Rawsone. "Same right back at you." And then he raises his voice again. "Well, would you look at that. Anyone tells you there ain't no miracles, you've all got the evidence of your eyes to tell 'em different." But he doesn't let himself lose too much momentum. "So what do you say, Nikmok? That beast of yours got your folks over there all chained up good and tight? Or do you think some of them might be able to stand up under all that weight too? I know what he's promised you, because someone like him promised it to me once, too. But even for you folks, it ain't too late, no more than it was for these folks here. Not even for you, Child of Garm."

Rawsone glances at Zak, then looks across to Nikmok. She eyes him for a moment, hard, then steps forward. "Gilead'll forgive you," she calls, after a moment. "He--" swallowing, trying to find words, she pauses for a moment. "Father always said, He loves us like a husband loves his wife. I never...know what that means, now," she says, now very pointedly not looking at her husband. "'S not too late. Will forgive you, all the things you've done, you throw off the chains like...like he says." The ending is a little lame, as if she lost heart halfway through--the ranger is no Zak. "Been to his plane. 'S a lot better'n anything Garm'd come up with."

 

Karelin watches now, assessing the faces of those that face him. He stands tall, living by example, defending what has been made his.

 

There is silence from the opposing camp for a long moment. Nikmok stops. He's staring into the outpost, as are the warriors with him. All of thenm are lost souls not unlike the ones inside your outpost, now, but they don't have the same hope, the same fervor in their eyes. They are fueled by hunger and desperation and anger and frustration, one and all, and it shows. THey cling to their weapons, white knuckled. They stand stiff and straight, one and all, but appear weighted down with despair, their heads just a little lower than warriors marching should be. Fear is in their eyes.

 

Nikmok however, stops. He opens his mouth to say something, but he is stopped again. He places a thick, scarred hand to his chest and then slowly lowers himself down to sniff. "I can smell you, yes. I know you're there. I can hear you, too. I heard. Your words carry with them the ring of truth, of strength born out of difficulties few can scarcely imagine." There is a pause.

 

"Perhaps... perhaps you are right. No soul is truly past the redemption offered by the Gods. Perhaps even not me. But even with all your weapons and words and strength, I do not know that you can stop He Who Hungers. He marches, even now, with an army far larger than the one you see before you upon the Gateway. His timing was well chosen. It is all in motion -- but perhaps.." He muses, his voice rumbling as he drops to one knee, "I submit."

 

Darshan holds the sword--and tenses. Without the armor, the tauntness is visible, a line of tension as he rests astride Srassha's back. "...do the gods have a jailer?" he asks, at length. Odd, those words. Surprised, and directed at no one in particular. He leans back in the saddle and Srassha paces uneasily. Snorts. Lifts one foot after the next in a rapid, uncertain motion.

 

Zak stares. He *stares*. Somewhere in the back of his mind, you can almost hear the voice of "I cannot believe that just worked". And then he takes a step forward. "Don't submit. *Stand*." He says this urgently. "Stand before the gods, show them who you are, not who you were. Don't be a broken Child, be someone new, someone grown up. Stand with us, or stand aside, that's your choice to make. And He Who Hungers is gonna get a choice too. Maybe we can't beat him, maybe we can't convince him, but..." And here's a savage grin. "It's sure gonna be fun finding out, don't you think?" There's something comical about an outstretched hand to a giant more than twice his size.

 

Chandrakanta glances to the others, uncertain when the giant speaks, and even more so as he bends to his knees. She has learned to take hints from the others when unusual things happen. This is one of them.

 

Karelin's posture goes curiously still, as he studies Nikmok's kneeling form. He looks towards Rawsone and Zak, "You did this." And bows, fractionally. He then turns towards the army, and raises a first. "You all. Stand up straight! Straighten your back!"

 

Rawsone hesitates, stands for a moment when Zak steps forward, then follows and stretches her hand out next to her husband's. "I forgive you," she says quietly. "But please--if nothing else, tell us where he is?"

 

Darshan lets go a heady breath, and steps forward as Zak does. He doesn't say much, not much at all at first. Then, "An honorable surrender," finally. "I never dared hope I'd see the day. Nimnock, there is no shame in what is done today--it's at the beheast of the gods and their will." A look at Zak, then. A prolonged one. "So. One will make an offering at His alter, later. Perhaps you will lead the service." A breath, and he looks back at the cleric. The look's somewhat numb. And satisfied, all at once.

 

The soldiers, those here, are terribly confused. They were all psyched for a major fight, but this one is over before it even began -- words alone have won the day, this time, but that doesn't mean there won't be more war to fight. Indeed, Nikmok says the very same thing, his voice still a low rumble that seems to shake the very ground you stand upon. "I had hoped to fight you all again and prove myself once more, but you have defeated me swiftly without lifting a blade. This is true strength for all to see and it is inside each of you," his gaze scans over those, plenty. "My life is forefeit, now, as Garm forgives not those who turn their eye away from him, least of all his chosen servants. There is much I can tell you, but we have much to discuss before my time runs out." It is clear he thinks he is on a limited span of life left and he makes his way towards the outpost, followed then by soldiers who are now friends of those already here. Ready for something. *Anything*.

 

All of you feel as if you are being watched. All of you feel as if there is a *presence* here, and it is one that is neither friend nor foe. Then again, you're on the home plane of Kor. He sees all.

 

Nikmok produces an orb from his belt pouch and holds it out. "The prophecy you have all heard isn't real, you know," he says, coming to a halt. "The prophcey," he explains, "was the creation of Garmites to create conditions for his release, to prepare the way. Belief, and more importantly, *fear* has brought it about."

 

Chandrakanta has no smug looks, "The gateway?" She did listen to what was said, "We need to get all of us there now.. " She is looking at the crowd searching for that look in the eyes for someone who will know the way.

 

 

Zak gives Nikmok a long, hard, careful look, and then nods. "Then we'd best not waste time. THough if there's another way things can go...well, I've already seen one impossible thing today. What's another one?" He shrugs. "Right. To business, then. So, what you're saying is, the plan was about gettin' enough folks convinced, or afraid, that he could get free, and that somehow making it possible?"

 

"Gilead will protect you from Garm," Rawsone looks as if she thinks she's hallucinating. She also looks as if she might say something more, but instead turns to Zak, and nods. "How do we stop him?"

 

Karelin raises his fist towards the sky, and whispers: "Witness." He looks towards the other soldiers. "Gather close, gather round. There will be a fight," he looks to the sky, "Do not fear. But now it not yet the time."

 

Darshan's features tighten in satisfaction. A numb sort, to be sure. One that's slowly being pushed away by a heightened tension. "The entirety of the gods would stand against Him. ...the lighter ones, anyhow," added, with a partial and grim smile. "What sort of army, then?" a breath. "And will one see one's people in it?"

 

"You will see that and more. He has gathered together many fallen souls -- Children both living and dead and those who've a grudge against many who would stand against him. You will see familiar faces. And more." Nikmok's smiling. He still has filed teeth and he's still a werecreature, so it's hardly a pleasent smile. He leans down, taking a moment to begin drawing sigils in the earth before him. "You will want to take the help you've earned here, yes, certainly. You will want that," A nod follows and he glances from side to side, "It is difficult a concept to explain," he adds to Zak, "Many centuries ago, Garmite prophets came across a mad plan, perhaps straight from his mind, to create the conditions for his relief. So they created a prophecy to follow, one that would over the centuries spread fear and belief in his eventual freedom. Because it is *prophecized*, and because so many belief in these prophecies, then it must be so? And then one comes along, a *chosen* one, who will succesfully follow its steps, weakening the prison enough through these fabricated condititons to allow for even a small piece of Garm to become free, and *that* is a large enough change to rewrite much of what you know about Garm... depending on what part of him is freed. Gods have aspects, as we all know.. different reflections. He Who Hungers seek to become Host of one aspect. He would sacrifce his own existence for it, knowing that he will forever rewarded by Garm for his sacrifice in his Realm." He lays the glowing orb on the ground. "This was to take me to the Gateway when the time was right. It is attuned to it. Instead, it will take you. And your armies. You still have some time before He Who Hungers will arrive. Make haste. Prepare. Warn those who stand by the gate that He Who Hungers is coming for them. He has assembled a vast number of artifacts to use to twist the gateway to his design. He can not be allowed to reach it. He will send his army against you to weaken the path to it, to destroy its defenders and then he will come to it himself. If he reaches it, there will be no defeating him because his powers, already great, will become uninaginable."

 

"And this shard thing...that'd be one of the artifacts he wants? Or has?" Zak asks Nikmok. It's not that he's not taking all the rest of this in. Though he really is only taking *some* of it in. He looks around at all the others. "I reckon that means it's time we were on our way, then. Them as are coming, that is."

 

Karelin nods slowly, and looks around. "Well?" he asks the soldiers, "There is a battle waiting." Hands flex inside of his adamantite gauntlets, anticipating.

 

Rawsone listens quietly, and then sets her outstretched hand briefly on Nikmok's arm. "This'll weigh heavily in Vardama's scales, opposite the things you've done. Thank you. 'Ll let the other priests know to leave you be, let you make amends." A glance at Zak, and a shake of her head. "No. Doesn't have that--we saved it, saved Penny." A second glance, this one at the soldiers, though here she seems to have nothing to say.

 

"So we go," blandly, firmly. Darshan's look is fixed on the orb, and the sith looks uncomfortable for the barest of moments. "Come on, Srassha. We've an army to ride with." He hauls back into her saddle, the look uncomfortable, proud, sad all at once. Scratches at her neck.

 

"And he has one less army to join his, it is a good start." Chandra draws her lips tight. She puts her blade away finally.

 

"A great battle," says Nikmok, quietly, shaking his head. "Yes, yes it is," he adds, "he wanted many, but a few have escaped his grasp." A pause. "There is one more thing you need to know before you go -- even if you stop He Who Hungers, you will not destroy the Children. His legacy will live on. Throug Garm, he created a ritual," a pause, "one which is blasphemy no doubt to you, Gileadian, but to the Garmites it is the highest of honors." He looks slowly, back and forth, slowly, "A ritual to make one into one of Garm's Children without the need for a bite. To make it as if they had been *born* as one. It has been spread through the ranks to a few select of his followers. And they have begun to use it. Know this and be wary of your future." The orb is shattered against the ground and there's a sound -- like roiling thunder as the skies darken once more and the sand storm begins again. "And go. Quickly."

"Right, that we did," Zak says with a smile to Rawsone. And then he looks all around them, as things start up. "Thank you," he says to Nikmok. "And I wasn't ever expectin' to say a thing like that to you. If there's stronger proof that the future can shape up stranger than any of us can reckon, there it is." A pause. "Be seeing you, I hope."

"...'Zat what he did to the druid? What the price was for..." Rawsone trails off, shaking her head. "Maybe not, but we stop 'im from becoming Garm...we stop the worst, for now." She pats Rochanna's head, and then climbs up into the saddle. "Gilead bless and forgive you," she says quietly, before riding...wherever it looks like they need to go. Into the sandstorm is a lot less portentious than into the sunset...

Karelin's head rotates inside of his armor, metal scraping on metal, and he nods to Nikmok. "Thank you." And then he looks around at the soldiers, and grins, savage. "Coming?"

Darshan stiffens, somewhere near the end of Nikmok's speech. Horror flickers over his eyes as Srassha begins to obediently move forward, her usual quick-pace slower and cautious. And he's still staring, silently, at Nikmok as they make their way--towards wherever it is. A hard shake loosens it enough to nod, once. A cordial touch to it. The horror's still there, though. And Rawsone's question makes him grimace.

Chandrakanta doesn't need to speak, the horror of the revelations knitting her brow deeply. She steps towards the storm that will bring them to He Who Hungers.

 

And so you step through the swirling sands -- you and the army that's following you now, eager to follow. This certainly seems to allow them to travel with you, though perhaps they might not ordinarily be allowed to depart the plane just yet, naturally.

 

You suddenly find yourselves somewhere else -- a very different place than you were. You're all a little disoriented at first, to be sure, but the cool breeze feels wonderful. You stand before a pair of trees, linked together with woven branches that create a truly massive circle, a great, swirlign portal set into the circle. These trees are more massive than any other you've ever seen. The ground you stand on appears to be made of additional woven branches and, indeed, it would appear that as far as the eye can see is lush greenery. It's as if there is no floor to the forest. 

 

Just more branches.

 

"So," Zak drawls. "That'd be the gateway then, I'm thinking." He shrugs, and takes up a position in front of it. Because it seems like the thing to do.

 

"'Spect that's the--yeah," Rawsone says, nodding to Zak. She steps lightly on the branches, making certain that they support her weight before moving over to stand next to Zak. Rochanna takes the place of honor on Rawsone's other side. "Tell 'em to take down He Who Hungers," she tells Zak. "Others don't matter, not as much. Not if what Nikmok told us is true." She seems to think it is.

 

"Wasn't there supposed to be someone here protecting it?" Chandra looks about, she seemed to expect something different. She almost seems confused.

 

Karelin does as well, taking the centre. He gestures towards the solders, sending them out to bother flanks with short, crisp commands.

 

The arrow that lands at Chandrakanta's feet would appear to be an answer of 'yes'. 

 

The other soldiers, all of them, are somewhat disorietned and confused. All of them are looking to each of you for leadership. There's enough of them that if you're fighting armies, you're going to want to break them up into individual commands, that's for sure, or else it's going to be very unwieldly.

 

The arrow is feathered and precisely placed. An elf hops out of the trees following that.

 

"There is. You and your.. followers. How did you get here? What are you doing here?"

 

"One is getting damned tired of this," scowling, Darshan steps forward to look at the man. "'There is what?'" he asks, blandly. "Mrm. There's only one thing I care about right now. Are you here to support He Who Hungers, or are you here to fight him?" His tail lashes quietly, uneasily. And he doesn't have his armor. A little too late to think about that, though.

 

Zak seems inclined to follow Karelin's example here. He starts doing his best to organize the people around him. Though that changes when the arrow appears. "Werewolf high priest with a whole bunch of artifacts and such in tow is coming to set his god free. We're here to stop him. That's the short version. The long version..." He looks around him. "Is long. But..." A glance at Darshan. "That'd be the question of the day, yeah."

 

Chandrakanta takes a step back when the arrow lands between her feet. "We came to help protect this place." She lets others explain how they made it here exactly, "You need our help."

 

"'M a Hunter of Gilead," Rawsone says, lifting her holy symbol so they can see it. "He Who Hunger's coming. Trying to set Garm free. We're going to stop him, or die trying." Darshan is eyed. "Expect they're the guardians we were told about. On our side. Not purple like Sandy." And everyone knows Sandy's evil.

 

Karelin stays quiet, more or less. After all, he wants to help. He looks up and points at Chandra. "What she said."

 

Other elves begin to step out of, well.. *everywhere*. Nooks and crannies and more all begin turning up, bows at the ready. The entire forest is literally *crawling* with elves and they all appear wary and guarded.

 

"It is our duty to watch over this gateway. You should not have been able to approach so closely without alerting us -- least of all with this many men." No wonder He Who Hungers had wnated Nikmok to gather the army and bring them here -- surely, should an army assaulting the gate, having your forces dropped right on their backstep would be entirely useful.

 

He lifts his chin. "So. Garmites are coming. That's.. hmm. We've heard nothing of the sort here yet. We're going to need to verify your words, you realize. I am Suvedeillon, Watcher of the Gate and know that we will allow none to pass."

 

Karelin nods. "We do not wish to pass. We simply wish to keep He Who Hungers from reaching his goal." He keeps his voice calm, steady.

 

"I'm Zak, Liberator of Averium," Zak says. He gestures around them. "These are some friends of mine. And we don't aim to let anyone pass, either. So it seems like we're in agreement then."

 

"'M Rawsone. Friend of Danny. And Penny, keeper of the Shard," the ranger adds. "Send out scouts, but tell 'em to be careful. He's coming, and he means to get through."

 

"And I'm Rochanna. You don't happen to have any apples? I'm a little peckish," the horse next to her announces.

 

Darshan relaxes, at that, and looks over with a tired sense of relief. It's obvious. The tail sags. The shoulders lift. "My apologies," he says, and quiets a moment, before adding more, the words careful, thought out, "You've no idea how good it is to see you here. We're worried Garm would bring about the end of the world." Then. "I'm with mrm, him."

 

Karelin pauses, then looks up. "Karelin Andarin. I'm with Kor."

 

"You are fortunate it is us who came in this manner, you were almost surprised by Nikmok, fortunately Zak was quite convincing in turning him from this path." Chandra offers the elves as proof of their intention, "We have brought an army to prevent the Garmites save this place, also I am Chandrakanta, Holy Liberator of Averium." Its not often she actually refers to herself as a liberator.

 

One of the elves bursts out laughing when Rochanna speaks. "How quaint," he says, reaching over to pat the horse. "I have something for you, yes, but it's not an apple." A carrot is instead offered. It'll have to do, right?

 

Suvdeillon listens to your words, each of you, for a moment,l nodding after a moment. "I see," he grimaces. He turns towarsd the others, saying, "Teremian, Makathis -- scout the surrounding area. Warn the defenders. It is better to be safe than sorry until we've verified their stories."

 

The two elves so named dissapear into the trees, apparently intent on doing just that. "WE have much to discuss, it would appear, if we find your words to be true. Come with me," and with that, he heads towards a tree trunk, apparently stepping into it.

 

He seems to be expecting you to follow him. Through a tree trunk.

 

Karelin ask his men. "Be on guard. Call out if anything goes awry." He does step through the tree, though. Or tries to.

 

"Oook, 'fanks." Rochanna wastes no time crunching up the carrot. Rawsone glances over at the horse and then follows Karelin through the tree--or trips over him, one or the other.

 

When last we left our brave, noble heroes, they were surrounded by elves and at tempting to tell them about the terrible terror that comes forth.

 

The elf leader seems somewhat upset about this news and a little doubtful as well. Still, he has ordered his scouts to... scout. Bravely.

 

And they are off scouting, now. He seems to be taking it seriously. "So, tell me everything," he says firmly, "about this 'Garmite'."

 

Rawsone takes a deep breath. "'S the leader of a pack near Alexandria. Been killing people at the Hunt for four years now. Says he wants to get close enough to the gate to break an aspect of Garm out, so he can be in this world. Unchained." Melody?

 

Karelin looks towards Rawsone and Darshan, with a little twist of the mouth. "Other people talk better," a glance at Zak. He steps back. "Garm. Caracoroth." Just to clarify, you know?

 

"Calls himself He Who Hungers," Zak says after a moment. "And he's coming this way, with an army, as I understand it. Would've been a bigger army, but, well..." He grins toward *his* army. "Turns out some folk can see reason."

 

Darshan shifts on Srassha's back. The saddle creaks underneath as she shifts, restless to move, to run, to do anything but stand there. "What the pr--what the lady says is mrm, one will back it up. He has a grudge and he's found some...allies to help him. He means to bring an army this way." A longer pause. Longer still, and then, very carefully, "I hardly need to demonstrate what might happen if the Hell Hound frees himself. We'll have a war of the Gods all over again. Who knows if there will be soil left to stand on. This Son of the General," a nod towards Zak, "Aims to mrm, stop the disciple before he's gotten that far."

 

He listens, intently, nodding thoughtfully at the combined words of all those speaking and then he scratches his chin. "I see," he says after a moment, "I thank you for bringing this to us. You should eat. You look weary." He steps along the branches that make the ground you stand on, a tightly woven series of interlocking branches, and leads you towards one of the branches above you, plucking brightly colored, orangey looking fruit from a blossom that seems to open immediately. He offers one to each of you.

 

"Eat."

 

"Is there one for me?" Rochanna appears now that food is involved, sticking her head over Rawsone's shoulder as the ranger takes the fruit and looking hopeful. The ranger hesitates slightly, but then bites into the fruit. Elves are always good guys, right? Right.

 

Karelin follows carefully, then takes a bite of the fruit, a little warily. Still, killin' trees is hungry work, and watching Zak talk himself into an army? Also hungry work.

 

"One...mrm, thank you, but no," Darshan looks at the fruit. "I'm trying to quit." He scratches at Srassha's neck, the latter clicking her teeth together and leaning forward to sniff. She paces towards the left and shoves her muzzle into the leaves, looking around the brush for something. Or just sniffing. Or making noise. That's what swifts do.

 

Zak looks at the elf, and then at the fruit, and then shrugs. "Thanks," he says. Biting into the fruit. And then he frowns. "Huh. You know, if we survive this damn business, I'm gonna have to ask you for a bushel of these. It's like a bottle of wine without the bottle." THis is apparently a compliment.

 

Karelin nods. "These are good. Very good. So. When he arrives, armed with artifacts, and his army. We're going to kill him, if he'll die."

 

"This tree is grown from a seed of the Tree of Truth upon which the Gateway is founded," he explains, "The Truth, the universal truths, that were set down by the Source in the time before time, are contained within its rings if one knows how to look at them." He pets the branch lovingly.

 

"What will be, will be. All was no doubt forseen by the Lord of the Hunt. Your presence here is no coincidence. You are guided souls." He pauses, glancing out over the forest grounds. Rochanna is also given a fruit.

 

"I'll just take yours, then," Rochanna tells Darshan. Yoink! Munch munch munch. And then she takes the one meant for her, for good measure. "You -ever- not hungry?" Rawsone asks, eyeing the horse. "Nope!" said horse says cheerfully. Rawsone glances back, now looking at the tree with something bordering reverence. "May He hold us all close to Him this day, that we may do his bidding," she murmurs, stepping just a touch closer to Zak.

 

Karelin's hands flex, and a ghost of a smile touches the corners of his mouth. "At least we know Truth has a sense of humour." Perhaps he shouldn't have said it so cheerfully, but...

 

"I'm just saying, I'll bet you could make a damn fine brandy out of this stuff," Zak says with a grin. He pauses, then. "We ain't lying to you. Incredible as it may seem, this is actually happening. And what he says is right; we aim to put He Who Hungers as far in the ground as he'll go, and then a bit farther if we can."

 

The fruit's there--then it isn't. Darshan stares at his empty hand, and Srassha jerks--her head whips around and she grumbles at the mare. Silly, silly territorial Am'sherian mounts, but there you have it. He scratches her neck more, looking somewhat tired, worried. "Mrm. One just needs a very, very big shovel."

 

"I believe you," he says, firmly, "and I did from the moment I laid eyes upon you. But one must be that the truth is spoken here in the place. It is the truth in which we grow in strength, especially when faced with an enemy that feeds upon lies." He could be looking at Darshan when he says this. Or maybe not.

 

An elf rushes through the trees, seamlessly, sliding along branches like a forest animal hismelf.

 

"There is an army forming at the edge of the forest -- a great host of soldiers. They prepare to march."

 

Karelin looks at the elf. "I would expect your scouts to bleed the edges. Hopefully, the army will be ragged by the time it arrives."

 

Rawsone starts to say that she told them so, but then seems to think better of it. "Army shouldn't be the goal, taking down He Who Hungers should be. Nothing else we do matters, 'least, not as far as letting Garm's out's concerned." Rochanna is still munching.

 

"Then we've spent enough time eating fruit," Zak says when the messenger appears. A pause. "Sorry, Rochanna." A further pause. "Army's a tool in his hands, as sure as any weapon. We can't ignore them, but she's right. We need to get our own troops in place. And by we, I mean...excuse me." And he starts to head outside.

 

Darshan looks at the fruit, and the elf, directly. "One believes the effects of Truth to be lessened when given in shadow," quietly, the sith's voice is almost gentle, but... "Had you said what it was, one would have partaken. As it mrm, is, my kind don't often eat fruit, not naturally," he looks at the fruit, and back up again. He looks tiredly wry. Still tired. He turns to look after Zak.

 

Karelin nods, checking the edge of his blade. "Where do you want me, Zak? And if you don't care, I will be at the gate."

 

Rawsone eyes Zak's back for a moment, and then follows, walking a step or two behind and to the side. Rochanna follows, looking disappointed that eating time is over. "Need to be careful, everyone. 'M out of those powerful healing spells," the ranger remarks. Her bowstring is inspected as she walks.

 

Suvdellion, that's the elf of course, nods again, looking towards the scout and grimacing at his words.

 

The scout continues, "They still have a long distance to go."

 

".. there are many with them and they are cutting their way through the trees. Giants and ogres and a large number of humans. There are other... things with them as well," he says, "and a few pieces of siege equipment. They bring catapault, no doubt to bombard the area around the gate."

 

"A waste of time in the forest, perhaps, but they may have a different plan. Prepare your defensive measures. We'll slow them down as much as we can while we errect the age old barricades once more and engage them further down the tree."

 

The sith lets go a breath, a wry grin, "I'm out of armor," wryly. "One mrm, figures we're roughly equal, then." He turns then, looks at the elf. "One is good at digging. If you're erecting barricades, hand me a shovel, unless Zak needs something else."

 

Zak clearly expects the rest of them to follow him. He talks as he walks. "We're going to need to keep our new friends in shape. Congratulations, you're all generals today. Darshan, you take charge of whatever we've got that looks like it can be a cavalry. Karelin, infantry are all yours. Chandra, you've got the scouts and skirmishers. Rawsone," and here he turns to his wife, knowing she's probably not going to like any kind of leadership role, "Archers are yours. And I guess I get to coordinate the whole lot, lucky me."

 

"Can grow some plants, if need be. Not much, though," Rawsone seems to think this more useful than a shovel. And then she's turning to Zak, and just eyeing him for a few moments. "All right." That was...easy. *Too* easy.

 

Karelin follows, and nods, cracking his knuckles. He looks towards the pack, and stretches out his arms. "Alright. This should be interesting."

 

Darshan gapes at the General's Son, and--starts to laugh. It's a hissing, scraping noise, and he hits Srassha's flanks, turning her about and towards the self-made army. "Someone point me towards the horses!" he roars, and Srassha perks up. Perhaps with the wrong idea. She has that look to her. "Horses and armor! Lances and blades! And if anyone has an axe--see the damn things sharpened! We've got more than trees to cut!"

 

Karelin looks back towards the elf, if he can find him. "Are there defensive positions already created?"

 

Having been quiet this whole time, Chandra just nods at the instructions, looking around for those quiet types. Which there should be a lot of with all the damned elves present. "Then we should go look, anyone got those tokens to send a message back?"

 

"Sirs, yes sirs!" There's even a few Hobgoblins in the mix. Great.

 

The forest floor seems to tremble around you as the defenses are being erected by the elves. Great trees seem to bend, creating shields and blocking off paths, making the grounds impassable and difficult to cross over.

 

Suvdellion approaches Zak, nodding. A crude map has been drawn by him, quickly, "cavalry will work in some parts of this. Here," he says, laying down the map to show what looks to be a giant tree on it. "We are here," he points to a series of sloping paths down and where it zig zags. It creates the impression of several long slopes and choke points that can be defended. "We can fall back through these paths here when weh ave to reset our defenses and make our way back up to the gate over time as they push us back, if we have to. Ideally, it will never be necessary. Come, let me show you to the initial defenses. We ought to start there."

Too easy or no, Zak will take it. He turns toward Suvdellion next. And listens. "Right. Just tell us where we need to be. You know this land better'n any of us." A pause. "I sure hope you've got some manner of siege weapons of your own, or spellthrowers or something." And then he raises his voice. "Listen up, folks! I reckon you all know what's at stake, so I'll not bore you. Enemy's coming, and it's on us to stop them. At any cost. Now time's a-wasting, so get yourselves formed up and ready to fight."

 

Rawsone drops back just slightly. "Everyone with a bow!" she calls, but her voice just...doesn't carry. After a few moments of abject failure, she points to a hobgoblin with a bow. "You. Yell for me," she instructs. "We have any extra arrows?" she wants to know. The hobgoblin will probably yell that. "Bowstrings?"

 

"Mrm, we can send scouts, light riders between us. By the gods...a calvary," Darshan looks over towards the hobgoblins, and hobs or no, it's right out of the pages of a Myrrish storybook. He raises his fist in salute before turning back around, to look at the--to look at the map. Eyes are bright. "Mrm...so, Zak, you have an army." And he does grin. It does make him grin.

Karelin bellows. "Infantry. To me!" He grins savagely. "Today, we earn our places at Kor's side!" He raises a fist. "Now. Stand in three groups! Stand beside someone you'd like to die beside!"

"Anyone who feels like taking out someone close and intimate like, follow me." Chandra pulls out one of the many daggers hidden on her person, twirling it with her fingers, "We need those with good sight and good ears.. and quiet footsteps."

"Here, here!" People begin breaking into various groups, following those that seem to suit their skillsets best. Cavalry with Darshan, though their mounts are weathered and sand-weary. There's even a few camels. Others break off to follow Chandrakanta, those with a... less than upright manner seem to be gravitating towards Chandrkanta, but there's not many of them. After all, assassins and sneaky types generally don't wind up in the Battleground, don't they! Still, there's aa handful. Ground soldiers, by far and the largest groups begin to show up with Karelin and Zak, forming around both of them.

 

The archers and crossbowmen and, yes, even a pistoleer or two alongside one guy who's carrying a truly huge number of javelins. Oh yes. He says he can throw them very far.

 

Suvdellion leads you down the trees sloped branches. It's not unlike working your way down a mountain -- even if its a mountaous tree. The barricades truly are a sight to behold. Walls shaped into the natural landscape, really, designed to hold back invading forces purely with the might of the natural world itself bending to shelter and protect those who are here. These pallisades seem tall, but are almost certainly fragile in their own way, being made of wood.

 

In the distance, faintly, you can hear the rumbling of an advancing army.

 

Karelin arranges his men in an inverted triangle -- two groups in front, one group in back. He designates captains in his groups, and takes the reserves himself. He's started singing to himself again, quietly, under his breath. War songs.

 

Srassha he has to keep from running--the swift's long legs take in the sand, her head moves high and with interest. And her muzzle quivers...far too much. A long, rope-like piece of drool falls forward, and Darshan moves to speak with them...seeking out first the hobgoblins, putting them in front. And then, some light horse. Messengers.

 

"Everyone check your bowstrings," Rawsone instructs. "EVERYONE IS TO CHECK THEIR BOWSTRINGS," repeats the hobgoblin. "And...your...whatever *you* check," she doesn't know exactly how guns work. Or crossbows, either. "AND THEIR CRANKS AND POWDER!" yells the hobgoblin. The ranger just...rubs at her temples.

 

"I'll check my javelins," says the javelin thrower, dryly, patting the haft of one with his hand.

 

Chandrakanta wiggles her fingers and invites people closer so they can whisper. After all sneaking and assasinating people isn't a loud sport. No doubt Chandra is checking weapons, forcing some to divest themselves of things that will be noisy in the fields. And no doubt warning them there will be others ask skilled out there, "We just have to be better then they are, besides our cause is true. Averium will watch for us."

 

Zak is taking a similar, if slightly less organized approach to the troops that've gathered around him. "Stay close, but not too close. They're going to rush at us, expecting us to break. Let's show them how wrong they are." He looks to the sky at one point, and utters a prayer. And then, climbs up on the tallest thing he can find. "Everyone, hear me! Some of us've already lived and died, and some of us have just lived, but whoever you are, however you got here, whichever gods you serve, today we're united in one purpose -- to keep a madman from unleashing death and destruction across the planes the likes of which haven't been seen since the gods walked among mortals. We will stop him, because there ain't no other option. Our gods are watching, and they'll help us as they can, but it's on us to do this thing, and we are up to this task. Now look at the people around you. Look at them, and see them for what they are; folk as chose to stand for what was right, whatever it costs." Gylf has appeared at his side at some point in all of this, doubtless with tales of rabbits. "One day you'll be able to tell anyone who asks that you fought beside such folk as the planes have never known, a day that will go down forever in song and story. Now make ready. They're coming."

 

Time passes here at the first barricade. Men wait. Ready. Talk to each other, quietly. Whisper. Those that are with Chandrakanta are following her lead, ready to go where she leads them to go, ready to rove and strike and do damage where they can. The archers wait, ready, bowstrings checked, powder dry. It's just a waiting game, now, and you have no choice but to wait here at the barricades. 

 

An uneasy silence has settled. It lasts. For an hour. Two.

 

Rawsone waits for Zak to finish, then asks him how he wants the archers arranged. Once she knows that, she tells the hobgoblin, and it's very likely that their enemy now knows how the archers are arranged. Elsewhere, Rochanna keeps just out of Srassha's reach. "I just want to stomp some wolves or something," she tells Darshan.

 

"They're coming," Rawsone says suddenly, head tilted to the side. "Sounds like...like cannon or something."

 

The whistling sound becomes evident to everyone before long. Whistling and the sound of cracking branches and then THOOM! A massive stone hits the ground, spraying dirt everywhere.

 

And then another comes shortly thereafter.

 

Bombardment, from somewhere.

 

It should be noted that about this time?

 

Chandrakanta and her friends appear to have wandered off.

 

Karelin goes for cover, then turns to the man beside him. "You are my lieutenant. I will have to do things now. Hold them off. You are the reserve. Only commit in a time of real need." Then he pulls out a small vial, drinks it, and shoots up into the air. He'll use a tree as cover, if he can, but he's going for height and spotting ability now.

 

"Canon..." the sith says, and half-grins at the horse, barely, before stones start falling. Srassha turns and takes them towards the calvary, the other mounted knights, and her rider would do well to offer a prayer to the King. One of the calvary stays behind--he leaves him there, near Zak. Someone on a light horse, that being.

 

"Spread them out," Zak says to Rawsone. "Make sure anyone trying to approach gets full of holes." And then he settles in for the long wait. Right up until stones start to fall. "Trying to soften us up," he says, stating the obvious.

 

Chandrakanta signals her group to splinter off, moving in a pattern that seems to have some semblance of order to the veyshanti, probably not to anyone else. She pulls another blade from her sleeve. Seems that she is only interested in very close fighting. A dagger in each hand. She holds off for the moment on doing anything.

 

"Save your arrows 'til something's close enough to shoot!" One of Rawsone's archers just fired bravely at one of the rocks. "Just wait. Then we go in groups, so we're not all reloading at the same time." She turns away as the hobgoblin begins repeating her words to all assembled, and watches Zak. She's got an odd look on her face, as if there's something she wants to say but she's not completely sure what it is.

 

"After the archers," wryly, from the sith. He grins at the hobgoblins, and it's not a pleasant grin. It's everything 'wild' and 'wrong' by other standards, and Srassha picks it up, too. She snorts, dancing back and forth at the rein, wanting to run, wanting to run /now/. "We're the heavy wave. Ride them down and ride them hard from both sides. If they're still standing when we're through, and they will be--we push through and we do it again. And again, until they're trampled into the soil. Bring out your axes. Your lances. They all have work to do."

 

More rocks fall. A few of them land close enough to 'take out' a handful of your men, but for the most part, it's ineffective fire, especially with everyone spread out liek that. Then more boulders come.

 

 These ones appear to've been doused in some sort of... *flaming* substance. They begin to set fire to the wooden pallisades and other places, catching. Sparks fly everywhere and as they pass through the branches above, they set some of them alight as well.

 

Uh oh.

 

On the other hand, scouting groups are beginnin to get closer to your position and Chandrakanta's band runs int othe first of them -- a rather motly crew of its own and with a human leader, followed by a handful of kobolds and even a smelly, runtish, stinky looking dwarf. They don't appear to have noticed her's.

 

Karelin darts back down, and starts coordinating dousing efforts, potting out what flames can be doused. With dirt. Or cloaks. Or even water, if it can be found.

 

"Water!" Zak calls as the first firey bolders fall. "You, you, and you, you're a fire crew. You, you and you, you watch their backs while they're dealing with fires." He steps in to join the firefighting efforts himself, trusting Gylf to warn him of an approaching enemy. At one point he meets Rawsone's eyes and smiles at her.

 

"Gilead, quench these flames!" When the unsuspecting hobgoblin yells the same thing moments later, the effect is actually quite spectacular as water comes pouring down--not enough, of course, but enough to give the fire brigade some time to get organized.

 

...Was Rawsone looking *up* when she (and the hobgoblin) shouted?

 

"Hold onto your mounts! They're here to scare us, but we'll be on them soon enough! Wait! Wait for the archers!" and Srassha eyes the fire, snorting and snarling as surely others must be. Horses and fire--Darshan draws them back a pace, sending the hobs out to call for order, to jostle bridle and calm the skittish...and to stay the blood of the more war-trained.

The pattern that Chandra's group splintered into seems to put them into the position to move behind the opposing scouts and attack from behind and flank them. Its not very sporting of them, but its rather effective. Throats slit, and some rather crude head bashing with unsporting things like rocks. Not wanting to leave too many obvious traces, the Veyshanti downs some greenary to cover the bodies before she directs the group to move again.

 

Well, then.

 

For the most part, you're able to keep your men in line under the force of the bombardment. It isn't always easy -- and the archers seem a panicy lot and, let's face it, grunts *always* complain. Still, for the most part, the fires are brought under control.

 

And that's when the first wave hits, right at the tail end of the last bombardment through clouds of dust and debris. 

 

Isn't it grand?

 

This first wave? Is a wave of goblins and humans and troglodytes and even some sith-makar. It is a wave of frantic, paniced looking people who are disorgnaized and glancing over their shoulders in prue fear.

 

Fear so strong they toss themselves into the waiting arms of your soldiers, desperately trying to hack their way through.

 

"Ready...wait for it...go!" Zak leaps to the fore of his men, black sword appearing from nowhere as he hacks into the attacking rabble. His men do likewise. He notes their fear, of course, but there's very little he can do to see what they're afraid of, at the moment.

 

As the first wave appears through the dust and dirt, Rawsone and, moments later, the hobgoblin, yell, "First group! Fire!" She's already suiting words to actions, arrows appearing on her bow by magic before arcing across the space to find their marks. "Second group! Fire! Don't shoot if you're afraid of hitting someone! Wait until they're clear!" Next to them and their wild shots, her form looks perfect. Meanwhile, Rochanna kicks a goblin. Poor thing never had a chance.

 

Some of the calvary run through, as panicked as the running army themselves, and Darshan stares as they do. He stares at the sith'makar, a horrible, darkening feeling in his stomach--the hand clenches on Srassha's single rein, and he moves back, back. "They're not here yet. Not here--hold on! Hold fast!" roared, all the while glaring at the sith among the enemy. "The bigger bastards are likely just over that hill..."

 

Karelin lives for this shit, truly. He wades into the battle, bellowing at the top of his lungs -- he thinks he's singing: "One day we'll see our names in stone where fires burn! The great who silent stood among you -- never praised nor never known! Our thoughts defined the passing days. Sensed the spirit, seized the age. After all these years to dream again! Like smiling children with faces raised! Cheering their path, tomorrow's glory days!" The dark red spatters across his chest, and up the black metal of his armor pay witness to the butcher's bill. He encourages his own men: "This is the first victory we win today! Save your strength, for there is more to come."

 

The melee comes early for the assassins in the field, Chandra's group splinters further at the onslaught is on top of them. They take some of their own injuries, and that makes some of them begin to work their way away from the front, but for the commited, they keep using whatever tactic necessary to raise the body count for the enemies. Chandra's daggers keeping her kills close, probably uncomfortably for those who might actually worry about the Veyshanti. At one point she grabs someone, using adrenaline and her strength to just twist and snap the neck of someone about to kill one of her fellow soldiers.

 

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It would appear that there is actually a character/space limit on these pages!  Or perhaps my 'net connection just sucks.  Either way, here's part II of the log: Whirlplot: He Who Hungers Part II