ADVENTURE LOG XXVI

EARNED, NOT GIVEN

The next morning they returned to the Arcanist’s Guild, and the Flowers waited outside while Calli popped in to pick up her custom work. She returned with a long, narrow box and handed it to Taylan with a smile. Inside he found a set of ornamental armor made of the large white dragon scales: a white chest piece, two shoulder pauldrons, and two hip guards. They had a slight mother-of-pearl look to them, and they fit over the white wedding tuxedo he continued to wear perfectly. Calli explained, “It’ll make quite the statement to the green dragon, I think, you turning up wearing the scales of the dragon she sent to kill you.” Taylan was caught off-guard. He wasn’t used to being given gifts, and it reaffirmed his belief that he was where he belonged with his new family. He thanked her, and Nightingale summoned their horses.

Smiler and his brothers got excited, and he said, “You lot have made such an impression on the town- what with defeating that aurumvorax and saving the guild shop and all. It’s almost a shame to leave it, when we all go.”

The Flowers paused. Taylan was the first to speak, “When we all go?”

“Well we’re your mates now, aren’t we? We’re going with you.” Smiler was confident, but behind him Reggie picked up on how the Flowers exchanged looks.

Calli gently replied, “Where we’re going is much more dangerous than here.”

“But you lot will be there, it’ll be alright! We can be useful!” The party tried again to dissuade them, explaining they were travelling to see the Shoanti, but they doubled down. “We know all about them! Well, we know a bit. We know where the Kallow Mounds are.”

“Where’s that, then?” Travis asked.

“North-East of the city!”

“Thanks very much,” Travis sniffed. Smiler’s eyes went wide as he realised how he’d messed up, and the boys all slumped. Travis continued, “Now, I think you’ll be more useful here. We were thinking of setting up a little enterprise between here and Korvosa. We’re going to need people in the know.”

“Finger on the pulse?” Hope crept back into Smiler’s unwashed face.

“Exactly that. And you could be, let’s say, lieutenants. And there’d be a regular reward for looking after business here.”

“What’s your business, then?”

Travis scratched his jaw, “Oh, trading a bit of this, bit of that.”

Smiler turned serious, “One moment, we need to have a meeting.” The three children clustered together and spoke in whispers all of the Flowers easily heard, but the party acted none the wiser. Finally the eldest turned back, “Alright, what’s the starting wage? There’s got to be a down payment if you’re leaving town.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point. What do you think would be fair?” Travis crossed his arms and looked considerate.

Smiler started listing off imagined duties they’d be undertaking, and then added, “What would we be called?”

“You can be the Tusks,” Travis offered.

“Can we get a sign like Ramplin got from you?” the smallest boy, Hawkins, piped up.

Most of the party looked confused, not knowing what he was talking about.

Smiler elaborated, “Yeah- ‘By Appointment to the Korvosan Bear’”

Everyone turned and looked at Byron, who shrugged, causing the new bow on his back to raise with his shoulders, and the mystery of how he could afford it became clear. They turned back to the children and Travis accepted. “Yeah, you can have a sign. You can get some tusks, like mine, and wear them around your neck.”

“Oh, like a uniform! I like that!”

“Dare I say, you’ll be part of a wider society,” the half-orc continued.

Calli leaned in to him and whispered, “Is this the new branding for the Cerulean Society, by any chance?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and they shared a chuckle.

The kids huddled together for another moment and then stood at attention while Smiler made their demand. “We’ll not go any lower than ten gold each.”

Travis made a show of considering it, while Byron and Taylan pretended to be scandalized at the price. Taylan counter-offered, “Bloody hell. Would you take six?”

“No, we’re standing firm at ten.”

“I like your drive and commitment, but do you really think you’ll get that?” Travis stared him down.

Reggie and Hawkins shouted out lower numbers, and Smiler looked betrayed. After another small huddle, he conceded. “Fine. Nine each. So that’s…. 15 total for all of us.” The boys argued over the math for a moment and Smiler corrected to, “Final offer, twenty-two gold.”

Calli muttered, “We’re not going to scam children?”

But Travis smiled, “I like that. Done.” He put out a green hand, and Smiler shook it. “So now, you’ll represent the Tusks. Anything you find that might be of interest from a trade point of view, I’ll trust you to let me know.”

“Of course! How do we get word to you?”

“Yes, how DO they get word to you?” Calli said to Travis, curious what the next step in this plan could possibly be. Travis hesitated, and she turned to the boys, “Do you read and write?”

The older two boys nodded, and Reggie proudly proclaimed, “I can write my name!”

She looked back at Travis again, with a wide Cheshire’s smile, “They can write their names!” Reggie began reciting the letters of his name outloud, and they were not entirely correct.

Travis started trying to come up with something. “I’ve got people who will write you with further instruction.”

“Oh, okay, you’ll be in touch with us,” Smiler relaxed.

The bard spoke up again, “And where should we write to you, then?”

The three street urchins frowned. There was a silence until Smiler came up with, “Ramplin’s.”

“If I write to you, there’ll be a stamp with a tusk,” and Travis then asked where in town he could have a stamp made. Smiler led the way, and the whole procession followed. Thankfully the design was simple enough to be carved out within the hour, for a fee, and with that last bit of business handled, it was time to go. Provisions were gathered, goodbyes were said, and The Flowers of Korvosa bid farewell to Kaer Maga and were back on the road.

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Exiting the city through the ancient destroyed corner of the fortress, they got their first look at the area known as the Cinderlands on the Storval Plateau. The burning plains were nearly a desert. A broken land of windswept dunes and dips, as if crafted by a crazed scupltor left too long on their own. Incredible rock formations dotted the landscape, deep gouges in the earth held oily water pooled within, and disorienting gullies ended abruptly requiring back-tracking to find new ways around.

They had retraced their path and were now ascending one side of a raising cliff on one such occasion, when Taylan rode alongside Calli to ask, “So, are you and Byron an item now? Is this official?”

She didn’t answer right away. She and Byron had not discussed it. Somehow that felt more intimate than what they had been spending their time on. She maintained an air of nonchalance, “Why do you want to put labels on things? We’re team mates.”

He tilted his head, “You and I are team mates, but we don’t-”

She cut him off, “No, we don’t, thank you very much!” To avoid further discussion she leaned forward in the saddle, causing her horse to pick up speed and leave her fellow half-elf behind.

It was thus distracted that the horse trod too close to the raised path’s edge, and the ground gave way underneath. Though she avoided damage, the horse was badly wounded in the fall and had to be unsummoned by Nightingale. She joined him on his own mount, even more frustrated, and the journey continued. They all had to keep their wits about them, as the hostile land and oppressive sun were not the only dangers. Razor sharp vines, monsters, beasts, and roving packs of giants were all concerns to be wary of.

In spite of the dangers, Byron was overjoyed to be reunited with the big black mare Gypsy once more, enjoying the day in the saddle traversing the plains. Often he would ride ahead of everyone urging Gypsy on, giving her head. He argued he was scouting the terrain, seeing what was ahead but in truth he was also enjoying the freedom of riding such a powerful beast. He had never really had much to do with horses before but he wondered how he could ever have lived without one.

A spring storm had rolled in, adding time to an already lengthy journey. The rain was warm, turning the dusty land to mud, but other than the lost horse and feeling perpetually soggy, it was a largely uneventful first day. They made camp under a large pillar of rock that had collapsed to one side, creating a wide triangle-shaped covered area for them to rest out of the rain. They hung their two tents on either side to further enclose it, prestidigitated the ground dry inside, and made a small fire near one flap opening to allow the smoke to escape while they cooked their evening meal.

"Time to groom Gypsy,” said Byron as he eagerly reached for his grooming kit.

“No need,” said Nightingale, and he absently dismissed their mounts returning back to his food preparations.

Byron just stood there brushes in hand, a little disappointed. Summoned or not the horses deserved to be groomed as they'd carried the party all day.

A group discussion was had over dinner in which the idea of returning to Kaer Maga to deal with the slavers at some point was presented. Travis, though he disagreed with the slaving, was against any meddling. He felt that it was their law, their way, and the party had no right to impose their own will over those who lived there. The argument was made, “What about the will of those enslaved?” It went back and forth, but Byron put an end to it, reminding everyone they needed to survive what was happening in Korvosa before they could be concerned about the government in Kaer Maga, and everyone agreed to that.

The fire smothered, Byron and Travis bedded down for a full night’s rest next to each other against the remaining vertical section of pillar. Taylan stretched out where the tower met the earth at the opposite side of their enclosure for the short sleep he required. Watches were easier thanks to the Rings of Sustenance the spellcasters now wore, meaning Calli, Gale, and Taylan only needed two hours of sleep each, so they’d be able to split the duty in pairs without needing to bother the brawlers at all.

Calli, Nightingale, and Rune were on their rounds first. The rain had eased, and the waning moon shed a dim light.

Inside the quiet stillness of encampment, Travis was suddenly startled awake by a flurry of activity next to him as a large dark form burst from the earth outside the tent flap, gripped Byron by the legs, and began dragging the big barbarian back into the hole with it. The half-orc exploded into action, grabbing for his axe.

The sudden violent pulling woke Byron up as a large insect-like mandible wrapped itself around his leg. His leg began to bleed, and he could feel the burn of acid from the saliva as he was dragged out of the tent. In the weak light of the moon Byron got a look at the hideous monstrosity that had clamped onto him. It was an insect, a giant bloody beetle-like insect! Its dark honeycomb inhuman eyes were heavily protected by a thick black carapace with massive monstrous mandibles. As he was pulled clear of the canvas walls of their makeshift sleeping area he could see that the beetle like insect was trying to drag him underground. The insect had burrowed up to their campsite but obviously the  hard bedrock they had chosen to camp on had forced the large grotesque louse to surface to attack.

"Giant ants and now man eating beetles...what a bloody country," Byron said to himself, the anger at being so ill treated by these giant hideous 'bugs' quickly blossomed into a cold hard rage which demanded that he show this predator it had bitten off more than it could chew. Rather than resisting the insect’s pull, the barbarian jumped, pouncing at the beast and slashing down with all the power that he could muster, hoping to finish this encounter quickly. With claws extended his first cut almost eviscerated the insectoid as he cut deep into the chitin covered body. However, his second claw missed completely as the creature violently reacted to the initial cut throwing off his follow up attack. Instead the claw got caught on a rocky outcrop next to the beast notching his claw badly.

"I hate fucking bugs," raged the barbarian as he fumed at the damage done to his claw.

As the hideous creature let go of its prize, the squealing sound of pain it made seemed to trigger a sudden mass of activity as the soil around them began to furrow and shake with what appeared to be more creatures moving through the earth beneath them.

The pink-haired bard, quick to react to the commotion, clambered up on to the broken fallen pillars, putting distance between herself and the soil. As she did, she called to the rest of her companions, warning them of the danger. As everyone started scrambling, she started singing a strident rousing battle song, her beautiful voice was suddenly amplified and seemed too large to have originated from a humanoid frame. Indeed her voice so clear seemed to cut through any doubt or confusion arising from this sudden attack, allowing all her allies to simply focus, to accentuated and power their attacks. The sound seemed to draw her companions together, inspiring them knowing they fight as one against any threat!

The lyrakien Rune, Calli's faerie-like companion, was a little affronted by these beastly creatures who had rudely chosen to attack them. She flew up into the face of one of these emerging monstrosities, indeed it was almost comical to watch this tiny fae-like creature wagging her finger in admonishment into the insectoid’s heavily carapaced face. A dusting of sparkling glitter shook off her finger into its eyes, causing the creature to just sit there a little stunned whilst regarding the tiny winged lyrakien, seemingly a little dazed.

Nightingale quickly joined his charge upon the granite pillar, traversing the fallen obstacle with goat-like grace to survey the unfolding scene before them. With a few economical hand movements a golden aura of magic surrounded him like a shield as he prepared to face the oncoming threat.

Travis quickly chased after Byron with both hands grasping his axe, and upon catching up to the the grotesque insect with a speed be-lying his great size, the half-orc proceeded to drive his vicious looking weapon deep into the bug’s body. As the beast collapsed from the trauma caused by Travis's blade, the half orc followed Calli's and Gale’s example, and quickly ascended the broken pillar.

The ground around them exploded, sending dirt flying as more of the chitin armoured monsters broke the surface ready to attack the small party.

Taylan was last to wake, making him slow to react to the sudden attack, and one of the giant bugs slashed its heavily armoured pincer down at the young mage. The heavy claw drrew blood, ex-acerbated by the heavy burning fire of acid entering the wound. Taylan cried in pain as he was grabbed, and screamed to the others that the attackers were not ordinary giant arthropods, but ankhegs. A venomous menace with a rudimentary intelligence.

The speed of the new attacker on Byron was blistering as the long insect-like appendages lashed out at the barbarian causing a long wound down his thigh with the now familiar acid burn accompanying the wound. The carapaced beast was slow in grabbing for the warrior but squared up to its the smaller prey ready grab and steal it away.

Four more of  the beasts unable to get closer elected to spit acid from a distance at those that were standing on the stone pillars and rocks. Two thick gobs of  dark green acid arced towards Travis who laughed with raging glee, not only dodging both, but spitting back in their alien faces. However, both Calli and Nightingale were not to prove so fortunate as both were partially caught by the ankhegs’ spittle attack, the acid burning through to their skin. Despite the pain there was no interruption to the Calli's magical inspiring song - she kept her voice strong and hopeful, galvanizing all those around her. Nightingale’s demeanour took on an aspect of thunder on seeing his young charge wounded.

Upon hearing Taylan's cry of pain, and not wanting to waste the time it would take to stand, Bryon embodied his namesake bear by maneuvering on all fours to get closer to the creature and attack. His strikes landed high up on the insects heavily armoured back, close to where the chitinous plates narrow to the neck joint. The raging barbarian rammed his two bone claws deep into the exposed articulation. Despite the heavy notch incurred from his earlier attack, the attack was so savage that both claws cleaved through the massive arthropod neck, severing its head from its body.

Calli, whilst maintaining her song, began to sing a more complex melody, allowing her to take a more active hand in this savage attack. She wove in massive high notes that built to becom a devastating burst of sound which she directed at three of the ankhegs that were spitting vile acid at them. Possibly due to their alien neurology, the sound burst over them like sledge hammers, temporarily stunning two of the three arthropods. 

Rune tried repeating her earlier daze attack on another of the massive insectoids, but to her annoyance it simply didn't work. She harrumphed in tiny frustration.

Nightingale's anger surfaced as he faced the giant beetles that had attacked them, drawing on the fire held deep within him. That burning anger that always seemed available to tap, he channeled it with a few arcane words, and then viciously thrust an open palm towards the enemy. A ball of fire erupted from his hand, growing in size until it struck the vile insects. The sound was immense as the fireball bloomed into the night casting everything now in bright orange flickering glow though the smell of burning chitin was astringent and acrid. The creatures screech in pain as flames engulf them was almost pitiful. They still lived, but the damage they had sustained was immense, and those struck were blackened, scorched and burnt.

Out of the hot hungry explosion Taylan erupted into the air, having cast fly on himself to get out of reach, and he cleared the voracious reaching flames that licked at his heels. High up he felt a little safer, away from the ground and the dangers of their enclosure. The wounds he had taken had been enormous, and the acid was still burning through him. He just needed a moment.... and then suddenly he felt a little better. The fire of the acid burn had stopped and he could breath a little easier. Indeed the bleeding from his arms where the bug like ankhegs had grappled him had suddenly healed up but how - he was fifty feet off the ground? The answer became apparent as Little Focker, the small purple drake began to swoop and weave around the young mage with each pass a little trail of healing magic began to salve Taylans wounds.

The half-orc seemed more feral, more bestial, in the flickering fire-light of Gale's fireball spell. His rage was incandescent, matching the flames all around them. He screamed his defiance at these insignificant bugs and swung out with his axe, the deadly axe head finding its mark in the first strike, burying itself into one of the dazed beetles armoured head. The second strike coolly removed that same head.

Two of the ankhegs swarmed the stone pillars hoping to engage with the prey that was sheltering there just beyond their reach. Nightingale, with a deft touch and a quick reverse passing step, managed to avoid the pincers of the ankheg stalking him. The one that swarmed Travis got too close, too quick, blundering into the range of the half-orc's axe. He swung with a practiced ease, the long studded thick handle guiding the cruel axe blade with clean efficiency removing the swarming insects front legs and mandibles causing massive trauma it died as it  fell to the ground.

The bloodlust was still coursing through the human barbarian, and ignoring the wounds from the numerous bites and acid burns he had taken, his rage drove him on. He raced out from under the pillar and leapt onto the lone unburnt ankheg. The power of his strikes were devastating, as with two massive cuts he sliced the creature down. He looked vaguely disappointed as the hideous insectoid fell to the ground felled.

With most of the swarm taken care of, Calli modulated her song once more, generating those sharp percussive high notes that she then sent off as physical force, directing them to the last of the ankhegs. One of the beetle forms who had sustained earlier damage from Gale’s fireball didn't survive the bard’s sound burst assault, as the high-pitched notes literally popped its skull plates, the long limbs buckling under their own weight. The last bug was stunned, fazed by Calli’s vocal lashing- unable to move, unable to react.

Nightingale quickly jumped down and approached the final dazed chitin-covered insect and channeled his cold disgust in the form of bright white lightning down through his sword like a conductor, routing all that electricity into the armoured body that stood before him. Electrical waves and lightning exploded through the body as a massive charge was delivered, burning the creature from the inside out.

The final ankheg fell.

Silence descended upon the battle scene as everyone listened, straining to hear if there would be any more surprise attacks. After a moment, the party came together, checking wounds and healing. Quickly they reset the campsite, moved the insect bodies further away, but elected to sleep on top of the rocks and stones rather than risking the bare ground again.

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As travel continued the rain didn’t return, but travel was still frustrating through the brutal environment. Little Focker, usually their scout, was unable to be airborne for long periods due to flying predators they had to avoid, so they ended up in many more dead ends and twisting canyons.

During their mid-day lunch break, Byron and Calli had snuck away from the party to enjoy a moment to themselves. They leaned against a sheer wall of rock, lips locked, when they began to feel a twitching at their hips.

“I don’t know if we have enough time for that, my Bear, but if you think we can manage…” Calli cooed.

Byron pulled back in surprise, and lifted the papoose he’d been carrying his hippogriff egg in. “It wasn’t me!” The massive ivory-colored egg had darker tanned speckles across it, and seemed to be jerking about of its own accord. A crack had formed across the melon-sized ball that had not been there that morning. “Come on, baby, you can do this,” Byron encouraged the creature, holding it close to his chest. It seemed to struggle for a few moments, pause, and then redouble efforts, until finally a razor-sharp beak smashed through the crack. Once the initial hole was made, it didn’t take it long to force the rest of its shell apart, and Byron was left holding a small, scraggly-looking hippogriff chick. It turned its eagle-like head, fixed one round eye up at the barbarian, and made a ragged squawking shriek. “What a beautiful sound,” he marveled.

Byron dug his free hand into his bag and retrieved a wrapped chunk of meat he’d been carrying for the occasion, and tried to offer an uncovered corner to the baby. It continued to cry, and he remembered the stableman he had spoken to explaining he’d have to prechew the food in order for the newborn to digest. Without hesitation, he ripped a bite out of the raw monster meat and began chewing. Calli watched in mild horror as he then held the beak open and spat the food inside, but it worked, and the baby swallowed gratefully.

They returned to the rest of the party and Byron announced the hatching of his egg like a proud father. The hippogriff happily stayed nestled into the papoose, only waking occasionally to scream for more feeding. Travis was baffled by the new addition, and more so by the party’s insistence that Byron be able to keep it. The half-orc rightly pointed out the danger it would be in through every one of their frequent battles, and the danger they would be in with a baby unable to resist making noise the moment it hungered. Byron promised they’d figure it out as they went, and not wanting to simply abandon it in the wasteland, they continued on with it as their newest Flower.

Focker referred to it as his little brother, and the group began debating potential names. Hours of travel and many suggestions passed, before Travis- who’d been mostly avoiding the conversation, not wanting them to get any more attached to the little liability than they already were- said, “Shawshank.”

Byron tried the word out for himself, “Shawshank…” then said it again, satisfied, “Shank!” and the decision was final.

On their third day of endless desert, Rune, who had been taking her turn fluttering up to look ahead, sped back to Calli’s shoulder. “Giants, miss! Headed this way!”

They’d heard stories of the giants who prowl the Cinderlands. Stone giants were only sometimes reasonable, and Hill giants would see them as food. Not a risk worth taking. They moved to the side of the canyon they were in as best they could, and Calli used a major image spell to make it seem like they were part of the rock wall they clung to. Nightingale dismissed their horses to make it easier for them to cluster together, and Taylan cast an invisibility sphere around them for good measure- in case they saw through the bard’s illusion.

As the enormous humanoids got closer, Byron felt Shawshank squirm, and began feeding him immediately to avoid any poorly timed screeching. One of the giants paused next to them, and sniffed the air. The party held their breath, and stood ready for action if it came to the worst. After a long, tense minute, the giant moved on with his band, and they moved on out of sight. The Flowers quietly celebrated, Gale resummoned the mounts, and they continued cautiously on their way.

Time and miles passed, until they entered an area populated by manmade cairns, and knew they’d reached the Kallow Mounds. The meticulously organised burial mounds became more frequent, when one by one they realized they were being shadowed. They remained calm, feeling like they had finally found some of the Shoanti they had been seeking. Sure enough, four individuals appeared standing on rocks near them with faces painted up like skulls. These were members of the Skoan-Quah, the Skull Clan from which Thousand Bones came, and exactly the people they were hoping to meet. They looked down at the Flowers with open contempt, and one said in common, “I think you might be in the wrong place, tshamek.”

Byron had taught the Flowers that word in the Shoanti lessons he’d been giving them, as it meant ‘outsider’ in the most insulting way possible, and was one they employ against any non-Shoanti they met. The Flowers politely requested an audience with the shaman, and identified themselves as the group who helped recover his grandson’s body. The demeanor of the Shoanti instantly turned from defensive to curious, having heard of the kind deed from Thousand Bones himself. They led the Flowers through the cairns into a village of yurts in a camp populated by maybe a hundred or so Shoanti.

Those they passed paused their daily activities to regard the newcomers with disdain. Their guides led them past an array of various monster heads on display before they reached a gathering of more skull-painted tribesmen. Over their heads they saw a strange creature relaxing near a ledge. It looked like a cross between a lion and a dragon, with a luscious red-orange mane, backwards facing horns, four brass-coloured scaled and clawed draconic legs and underbelly, with a coat of red-orange fur covering the rest of the feline body that ended in a draconic tail tipped in a tuft of reddish fur. Calli whispered it was a dragonne, and that they were intelligent, mighty hunters, but not known for attacking humans. The creature lazily lifted its head to look them over, and they got the impression it guarded the tribe. Travis waved, and in a feline fashion it ignored him and returned to resting.

An elderly man and woman emerged through the crowd. He was small and slight with an air of authority, and she was adorned in various fetishes similar to those they’d seen on Thousand Bones, and made her to be another shaman. The surrounding Shoanti treated them with reverence. They questioned the Flower’s intentions in common, and Byron began explaining their mission to free Korvosa from the blue tyrant in fluent Shoanti. Calli elaborated on the crown they believed allowed the dragon to possess their queen, and that they wished to learn how the Shoanti had defeated it the first time.

The man continued in common, reminding them how their people had been driven out of Korvosa and nearly annihilated, and had no intention of endangering his own people to save that city. Calli assured him they only looked for knowledge, and hoped it would be seen as a fair exchange for assisting Thousand Bones previously. Ash Dancer whispered in the shorter man’s ear, and he nodded, relaxing a bit, but not becoming any friendlier. He introduced himself as One Life, the leader of the Skoan-Quah, and the old woman at his side was Ash Dancer, leader of the Bone Slayers. He gestured at the dragonne, and named it as Wicked Claws. The beast in question twitched a furry ear towards them, showing it was listening.

A voice rang out in warm greeting, and Thousand Bones emerged from a nearby yurt to join them. He confirmed their story, and the thick tension that had been held in the crowd evaporated. They were welcomed properly, Thousand Bones accepted responsibility for them, and he took them back to his yurt to find out why they had come. Hearing some of the story, he held up an aged hand and suggested they wait to tell any more. He explained there would be an official gathering later in the evening where they’d have to officially discuss the situation with the leaders of the community. Until then he would ensure they were fed and bathed after their long trek, and he led them back into his home.

A commotion began outside, and Thousand Bones stepped out to see what was happening. He returned and bid them follow, but emphasised that they should not antagonize who they would be meeting in any way. Any offense they caused would reflect poorly upon himself. They followed him out into another impromptu gathering of Shoanti, this time around a few angry warriors whose dress and decoration were unlike the others. Instead of the skull and bone imagery of the Skoan-Quah, their clothing bore brightly embroidered flames, and their visible tattoos seemed to recount victories in battle. They carried massive war hammers and sharp blades, and the seeming leader of this band carried both at once. Seeing them approach, the large man crossed his muscular arms and stared daggars while he was introduced as Krojan Eats-What-He-Kills of the Sklar-Quah: The Sun Clan.

They learned he had come with the body of one of his fallen warriors to be interred, as the Skull Clan were keepers of the Shoanti dead, and he was furious to have learned about the lowlanders trespassing. He accused The Flowers of bringing trouble, as all lowlanders do. Thousand Bones attempted to diffuse the situation, but Krojan removed a thin loop of leather from a pack, and challenged the newcomers to prove their strength by competing against him in a game of shredna.

Thousand Bones begged a moment to explain the mechanics of it to the party, and drew them away from the crowd to speak with more privacy. Krojan and his opponent would get to the ground on all fours, heads together, and the loop would wrap over the two heads- holding them together. For three breaths, the combatants snarl and try to intimidate the other, and then they would pull against each other- or dig in to avoid being moved. Points were awarded each round for whomever did the best intimidation or managed to pull their opponents. After three successful rounds of pulling your opponent in a row- or if your opponent is knocked over- the game would end. The combination of mind games, tactical timing, and strength, made it a popular game among the warrior types of the clans. Outside buffing was not permitted, but the players would be able to utilize any internal strength or skills they naturally possessed.

Byron and Travis were both keen to take the challenge, and while they debated between them who would represent the party, Thousand Bones quietly filled them all in on Krojan’s tale.

As a young warrior Krojan sought the means to exact revenge upon an orc champion named Krurst Chief-Killer, a rotten-tonged marauder from Urglin who had long organized brutal raids against Krojan’s tribe. Desperate, he asked the aid of a reclusive Shoanti sorcerer who lived alone deep in the Mindspin Mountains. The hermit put Krojan through several punishing trials, promising if he succeeded he would earn the power to defeat Krurst. The trials were harrowing indeed, designed in part to train Krojan in the Thunder and Fang fighting style. (They deduced this is what they referred to their hammers and blades as) It took Krojan many months, but in the end he stood before the sorcerer successful and demanding his reward. The hermit replied he had no reward to give him, and vanished. Krojan’s rage was great, and when he returned to his home he found his tribe had been enslaved by Krurst. He tracked them for days until he caught up to the band a few miles from Urglin’s gates. In a fit of rage and power single-handedly defeated all the orcs, and their leader Krurst. Only as he claimed Krurst’s head as a trophy and symbol of his clan’s power over their enemies did he realise the truth. The old sorcerer’s trials had given him the strength he had needed to succeed, and without them he surely would have failed. The Sklar-Quah remained at the forefront of the Shoanti’s efforts to strike back at the orcs who menace them.

The Flowers were suitably impressed. Byron and Travis had resorted to rock-parchment-shears to decide who should go, and Travis gave a tusky grin as he triumphed. Byron consoled himself by thinking back on the fight he’d had at the Worm Pit, and decided to be happy for his fellow bouncer getting a chance to shine as he had. Travis handed off his gear and weapons to the others, ran three fingers over his bold red eye tattoo, and took his place on the ground by Krojan. Thousand Bones reminded Travis not to pull until the third breath, and one of the Sklar-Quah ensured the loop was secure on both skulls. He stepped back, gave a sharp, “Yip!” and the game began.

Both men let out terrifying snarls, but Travis was shocked by the depth and intensity of Krojan’s opening assault. The points went to the latter. Travis redoubled his efforts, and spittle flew from his mouth as he roared in Krojan’s face. Points for Travis. Not to be outdone, Krojan screamed on the third breath, eyes bulging slightly in the effort, and the third breath points were his.

The muscles of the two men engaged as they jerked against each other. Their veins pumped fury, neither willing to give an inch. All around them Shoanti cheered on the players, the Flowers hyping up their green friend, but the two men heard only the rushing of the blood in their ears as they strained. They seemed evenly matched for the first few rounds, neither making headway, until with a grunt of effort Krojan broke the deadlock, and Travis was forced to readjust slightly as he was pulled a few inches through the dirt. The readjustment proved advantageous, as Travis leaned back and was able to pull Krojan back towards himself again. The half-orc drew gasps from the onlookers as he continued to pull the warrior, managing to level the scores. The Shoanti narrowed his eyes and dug is fingers into the ground. Where the leather loop wrapped around their heads was burning with pain, and their nails broke in the scrabbling. Travis felt himself sliding again, and again, before Krojan faltered and lost purchase. Muscles screaming under the sustained strain, Travis regained the lost ground once more. The back-and-forth continued as onlookers grew more invested, everyone marveling at the raw display of physical prowess. It went to one side, then the other, until with a steely determination Travis wrenched his whole body back, flipping Krojan forward into the dirt.

The warrior went down with a roar of anger, but it had turned to laughter by the time he had gotten to his feet. “You pull like an aurochs in heat, little tshamek! Well done!” Krojan gave Travis an appreciative nod, and then withdrew with his men to get back to the business of their dead clansman.

Around them Shoanti were wide-eyed and amazed, and it felt as if The Flowers had earned a little bit of respect. Travis ached, but the thrill of success took the bite out of it, and the Flowers gave him the praise he was due.

That evening, after the sun had set, Thousand Bones led the Flowers to a fire that had been lit in the center of the village. Ash Dancer and One Life were sat waiting for them, but other than Thousand Bones there were no other Shoanti to be seen. They all sat around the flames, and as Thousand Bones began speaking, Ash Dancer took some crushed herbs from a pouch at her side and threw it into the fire. It flared for a moment, and began letting off a pleasant heady scent that caused their vision to slightly blur. A sense of ease soaked into them with the fumes from the flames. Thousand Bones explained that by asking for the Shoanti’s help with trouble in Korvosa, it would help them all. The other clans shun the Skull Clan for their willingness to work with the lowlanders, and Thousand Bones’ warnings about the rising threat Queen Ileosa posed had fallen on deaf ears. The other clans saw the many ills that had fallen Korvosa’s people as a just punishment for their treatment of the Shoanti, and could not see the greater growing within. “Speak of what you wish with the Shoanti, and perhaps we will find that our needs are the same.”

Calli went into more detail of how the previously greedy queen had been possessed by the pure evil of the blue dragon via an ancient artifact known as Midnight’s Teeth. She explained the many unsavory men and monsters that had been given free reign over the city. The power-hungry and the pestilence, striking down all citizens equally. Calli acknowledged the great disservice Korvosa had done the Shoanti in the past, and proposed that if they could help depose the queen, perhaps changes could be made in their favor.

Thousand Bones got Calli to describe the artifact, and Calli used silent image to magically show them the crown of dragon’s teeth. The three Shoanti leaned in to get a better look, and One Life nodded. Thousand Bones explained how their people had lived in the land now known as Korvosa for many generations, keeping the lore of their people alive in their minds, passed along verbally over the years. When Cheliax waged war and drove them up to the Cinderlands, a great number of Shoanti died, many taking precious lore with them to their graves. He didn’t know of the crown, but the name of the blue dragon- Kazavon- was not unfamiliar to him. They knew it as the name of a great and ancient evil, and to speak of evil is thought to invite its trouble, so between the reluctance to mention it and the loss of so many lore keepers, only precious few would still have the knowledge they needed. He believed the shaman of The Sun Clan would be their best hopes. Unfortunately they did not readily share their lore with other Shoanti clans, much less tshamek, but he thought if The Flowers were able to build their names by achieving various deeds of renoun, then perhaps they’d have the respect required to gain such information.

Among the various ways he presented them were having a Shoanti that had previously considered them an enemy call them a brother (Krojan, for instance), recreate a legendary hero’s accomplishment (he told the tale of a traitor-turned-hero named Skurak who had cleansed his sins by being devoured by Cinder Maw the Clan Eater carrying only his dagger and cutting his way out.), secure a Truth-Speaker’s endorsement (the only living Truth-Speaker he knew of being a Lyrune-Quah, Moon Clan, named Akran, though it had been many years and he couldn’t be sure), seek the seven-pointed star Thrall-Keeper’s mark (Thrall-Keepers were spellcasters in ancient times who had kept them as slaves, but lived no more. Many of their buildings remained, and the nearest was a dangerous acropolis that many Shoanti traveled to as a proving ground to their bravery, but not all returned.), go to The Sun Tribe and ask to go through their Trial of the Totems (but he didn’t recommend that until having completed at least some of the previous suggestions), and finally killing a major named enemy of the Shoanti and presenting proof of their passing to a shaman or Truth-Speaker would be a mark in their favour.

The Flowers sat for a moment and mulled over the magnitude of the tasks set out before them. Their hearts sunk as they learned how spaced out through the broken Cinderlands their targets resided, many being needing weeks to reach. They worked out the distance between the likely options, and made a plan of action that would use their time most efficiently. They planned to first visit the acropolis, then find the Truth-Speaker to witness their deeds, face the Cinder Maw, and then see The Sun Clan to face their trials and present their accomplishments- killing any Shoanti enemies they come across along the way.

Thousand Bones called forward the four Shoanti that had found them within the Kallow Mounds. They appeared out of the darkness, startling the Flowers who had not noticed them approach. He explained would send the warriors along as guides and additional witnesses, in case the Truth-Speaker no longer lived, and their survival in spite of the many dangers they were facing would show The Flowers were as good at protecting allies as slaying enemies. He introduced them as Ahalak, Hargev, Nalmid, Shadfrar. The three men and one woman remained standing apart from their party, but their faces remained neutral in the flickering light of the fire. The last bit of aid Thousand Bones was able to present them was a box of many useful items. Healing potions, a wand that create water, a wand to endure the harsh elements of the desert, and some pots of Shoanti warpaint that- depending on the color- would give them either a boost against fire (red) or make them harder to hit (silver).

The Flowers all expressed their deep gratitude, and again expressed their hopes that once Korvosa was freed, gestures could begin to improve relations between the city and the Shoanti. Thousand Bones thanked them, and said he, too, hoped for a better future. They retired for the evening, minds racing over all the new challenges they would have to overcome to even find out if the Skoan-Quah knew anything useful at all.

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When they awoke in the morning, their assigned warriors were already waiting with supplies. They had no horses, but accepted the Flowers’ offer for them to ride two-astride so that their speed was not hindered. There was no time to waste. Byron, Calli, Nightingale, and Taylan all partnered up with one of the Shoanti- leaving Travis to manage alone, as he was still the one least comfortable on a horse.

They set out into the warm, dry land, but found with the aid of their new guides, travel became much more expeditious. They knew the landscape well, and no backtracking was required.

As they traveled they discussed what kinds of questions they might ask Desna when Rune was next able to commune again, and Taylan asked somewhat forlornly, “Is my baby still alive?” Everyone looked at him, concerned. “The green dragon has it, and my ex.” Everyone was shocked by this news, as those nearby on the night he learned this bombshell were either too distracted or too drunk to have overheard. They tried to console him, promising that they’d be heading north to deal with her as soon as they finished with the Shoanti.

The familiar feeling of being spied on returned, and they spotted one of the scrying orbs hovering out of reach. It had been days since they last sensed it, and were slightly disappointed to see it again. Focker piped up, “That’s not the only thing spying on us. We’re being followed.” The group tried to look around subtly, but no one was able to pick out anything amiss in the landscape. “They’re a ways off, still, behind us.” Byron asked him to stay alert of their progress, and warn everyone if anything changed.

Ahalak indicated and everyone listened while he warned of the area they were approaching. There was an area full of cinder cones- he used a word that Byron translated as ‘small volcanoes’- where lava erupted from the ground under great pressure. It was unpredictable and dangerous. They carried on slowly until they crested a ridge and they could see the stretch of volatile geysers. Various tactics were debated, until their smaller caster put his hand up.

“Can we just fly?” Taylan counted the party members. “If Nightingale is happy to unsummon the horses and recall them on the other side, I can cast fly on most of us. A couple will need to be carried, but I’m sure our big strong men could handle that.” The Shoanti verified that due to the eruptions no prey, thus no predators, lingered in the area, so they would be unharmed by beast as they made the jaunt.

It was brilliant in its simplicity, and everyone readily agreed. They watched the magnificent displays of nature burst below them in orange so bright it glowed even under the mid-day sun. Once safe on the far side, Nightingale brought back the mounts, and they continued on their way, uneventfully, until nightfall.

The Flowers set up their two tents, offered to share with their new companions, but learned that when away from their village the Shoanti preferred to sleep under the stars. The night passed easily, though angry clouds rolled in by morning.

It was a hot, windy day. The air pressure was stifling, and it seemed to be building to a storm of some sort, but there was nothing they could do about that, so they continued on their way.

A great river came into view, and Rune flit ahead to scout the crossing point for them. She returned and warned of four three-headed winged monsters lounging around the more shallow section they hoped to utilise. The main head and body of the monsters were lion-like, one of the heads was a goat, and the remaining head, wings, and tail were of a dragon. The Shoanti named these as chimera, fiercely territorial creatures, and warned they would either have to fight or travel far, far up river to find somewhere else to cross.

The Flowers were ready to fight, especially knowing this was where the Shoanti preferred to ford the river. If they wanted to gain respect, this is where they would start. The Flowers moved closer, up on to a mound of rocks perhaps 70 feet from the river to get visual on the situation. Byron used a silk rope borrowed from Calli to tie Shank to the hobbled horses back out of harm’s way, then rejoined the rest. A stretch of open land 60 feet between the closest possible hiding spot and the first monster made many of their attacks more complicated. The river itself was another thirty feet across, and two of the beasts rested on either side, so even if they could take out the nearer chimera on the initial attack, the other two would get a chance to close the distance on them.

Taylan surprised everyone by proclaiming, “I’ve got this.” The enchanted cloak he wore radiated the impression that the half-elf was always meant to be wherever he happened to go, and he was confident he’d be able to get close enough to try something that would help. Before the others could dissuade him, he simply started walking out towards the beasts.

The rest of the group scrambled to get into positions, just in case. Byron and the Shoanti readied longbows. Calli readied the Holy Light crossbow they’d liberated from the Arkona’s and she, Gale, and Travis snuck to the slightly closer hiding spot in perfect silence. Behind them, Byron shifted, which dislodged a stone that set off a small but noisy avalanche of rocks, and the two closer chimera’s heads turned to focus on the sound.

Taylan had gotten within thirty feet of the now alert monsters, and opened his arms wide to cast fear. All six heads made sounds of distress, and they took to the air, flying off away from the 5’6” slip of a sorcerer as if he were the most frightening thing they’d ever seen.

The monsters on the opposite side lumbered to their feet and six throats began making threatening rumbling noises in Taylan’s direction. Nightingale threw out his hand, and a familiar ball of flame hurtled towards them, striking one fully and catching the other in the explosion. They squealed unnaturally in pain as they burned.

Calli took aim and fired at the one who’d taken the brunt of it, but her bolt missed it as it thrashed in the flames.

Travis moved forward into the clearing halfway between Calli and Taylan, brandishing his axe, ready to protect either by throwing it at any beast that got within his considerable range.

Byron and the Shoanti fired, but only one of the arrows found purchase. Byron was not yet familiar with his new bow, and caught his own hand with the sharp edge of the arrowhead, making it slightly painful to hold the bow properly.

The bard reloaded her bow, and now that stealth was no longer a concern, launched into a song to encourage her comrades to strike true.

Nightingale flung another fireball, and the flames continued to torment the beasts.

The chimera desperate to escape the pain, sprung into the air. They dove towards Taylan, the nearest target they could see, and as they closed the distance Travis was able to make his attack. The massive axe spun end over end and tore through the spread leathery wings of the closer creature. It dropped from the air like a stone and landed on the bank with an audible crunch, and moved no more. The axe vanished from where it was arcing towards the surface of the river, and reappeared in Travis’ hand.

The final monster made it to Taylan, and the lion head sunk feline teeth into his arm. The half-elf looked down at it and his eyes flared red. Laser-like beams fired into the snout of the lion head, and it released his arm with a hiss.

Arrows rained down from the rocks above. Byron, with a frustrated determination, struck twice, and two of the warriors likewise hit their target. Calli’s holy crossbow was also successful, her bolt lodging in the monster’s ribs with a burst of golden light that lit up the six eyes from within before the chimera pawed helplessly at the air and collapsed, dead, at Taylan’s feet.

Little Focker and Rune swooped in to heal up Taylan while Byron recovered Shank and the horses. Together the river was forded, and travel continued until nightfall.

On their third morning their guides warned they were passing near the Sklar-Quah’s main territory, and they’d have to be wary. Little Focker reported the group of people tailing them had gotten a bit closer, and Byron was about to suggest the drake hang back and scout out who it might be, when the barbarian spotted something else. It seemed as if a great wall of stone was moving towards them at great speed. He pointed it out, and the Skoan-Quah with them turned frantic.

“We have to find shelter, right now,” Hargev impressed upon them, “Immediately.” Everyone spread out at speed, and Nightingale and Travis called out to the others when they found a small cave in a cliff face they had been passing. They all dashed inside, Gale unsummoned the horses, and at Hargev’s instruction Byron and Travis held up one of their tent covers over the entrance.

They had made it just in time. The two barbarians were caught off-guard as a blast of wind slammed into the tent fabric. A hurricane-level storm front buffeted their cave. The Shoanti pulled strips of cloth from their bags, soaked them in water from their hardened leather canisters, and they wrapped the wet fabric around their face. The others did the same as they instructed, and it didn’t take long to understand why. The temperature began increasing at frightening pace, and the winds that got in around the tent flung thick clouds of red dirt through the air.

Focker, Owlett, and Rune were told to wait out the storm in Travis’ bag of holding with their bottle of air, knowing they’d be safer in there than in the increasingly dangerous conditions of the cave. They remembered the wand of endure elements they had been given, and Calli hummed an inspire competence spell while she began casting it on the party, one by one, leaving the barbarians for last as they would be able to withstand the storm the longest. This still took time, and in addition to the scorching heat, it became increasingly hard to breathe. Everyone waited, breath held, head spinning as the cave became an oven, until the spell from the wand could be applied to them. Sweat dripped from every pore, soaking through clothes and armor, and the dirt in the air stuck to the moisture, until they all resembled clay figures of themselves.

As tension mounted, there were a few times that Calli was unable to get the wand to work properly, and she had to steady herself to try again. Each failure prolonged the distress of those not yet warded, and she was keenly aware Byron would be the next to last she could relieve. The tall duo were straining with the tent, muscles in their arms bulging to keep it in place. She finally reached Byron, and as she turned towards Travis, the tent was ripped from their hands and jettisoned out of sight into the sky.

The air was knocked from Travis’ lungs, and they all looked out into a hellish scene. The sky was black, rain fell thick and hard at all angles as wind violently lashed in multiple directions, and most horrifying, somehow, the storm itself was on fire. Travis tried to breath, but got only a mouthful of water through the fabric, until Calli touched him with the wand. A wave of refreshing coolness emanated out from the point of it across his flesh, and the unbearable pressure on his lungs eased. He clapped her on the shoulder in gratitude, and helped Byron wrangle their other tent back into position.

As they held it against the raging of nature, they found it was getting gradually easier to keep in place. A layer of silt had formed against the flap. Earth deposited by the storm built up and blocked the doorway, keeping out the worst of the weather, until the barbarians were able to relax with the others.

“That’s an Ember storm,” Nalmid explained, “and we’re lucky to be alive.” The storm raged for a full two hours before it had fully passed them by. By then the party had resigned themselves to making camp within for the night.

When dawn broke they peeled the remaining tent from the mud blocking most of their exit and tunneled out. Around them were scenes of total devastation. All the desert vegetation that had been dotted across the landscape was gone, some of the more freestanding rock formations had been toppled, and all along the cliff they had sheltered within were thick piles of mud and debris peppered with the ripped up scrub bushes.

With a new appreciation for the Cinderlands, they resumed their journey. The new day passed with nothing of interest occurring, and they camped that night grateful for the break in excitement that their lives had become.

The relief didn’t last. Midway through the following day they found themselves approaching the magnificent ruins of an old cathedral. After a week of riding through the burning plains of the Storval Plateau, the cathedral felt eerily out-of-place. It was surrounded by low hills, one of which towards the back sported a wooden door that led directly into the earth. To the left of the cathedral was a cemetery. And encamped in and around the cathedral was an entire orc warband.

The Flowers dropped low to the ground and Nightingale unsummoned the horses so they could get a closer view. They estimated at least 250 orc across the area. About 100 warriors, various sergeants, lieutenants, and war chiefs, and all the usual camp followers. Cooks, smiths, healers, and family members- there were even children. There were also four human captives in a makeshift cage wearing monk’s habits. The leader was nowhere to be seen, but Shadfrar, the female Shoanti, recognized their insignia. She whispered to the others, “Gilgamesh the Vile. If he’s here, this far into Shoanti territory, then this is a raiding party, and that’s very bad news indeed.”

A named enemy of the Shoanti was exactly the thing the Flowers had wanted to come across, but they hadn’t expected bystanders and hostages. They would have to think out their plan carefully.

“Who would build a cathedral out here in the first place,” Taylan mused.

“Missionaries,” Calli answered. But something about the ruined place of worship dredged up a memory. “This is Woecester Cathedral.” She was certain of it. She’d been taught an old poem written on the walls as an example of linguistical drift. A series of bad translations had lost whatever it originally meant to time. She recited it to the others, voice low:

There was mud. More mud came, and so the swamp was made.
Watch out for the swamp, do not stir the mud, for it is poisonous.
A might warrior came, slept here and the snake slept too.
When you sleep you are not dead, and in forever you can kill death.

Something about it unsettled them, and it felt like a warning that there would be more to deal with below than orcs.