The warmth of summer was fading. The open sea was very calm and the Green Thorn Warband was enjoying their subsidized trip out west, to a land far, far away aboard the Fortune’s Maid. Roderick and Sedel were below deck in the crew quarters, resting on some footstools and using an empty barrel as a makeshift table.
Roderick leaned on his elbow, raising a brow towards Sedel. “Just to refresh my memory, you said you encountered a dune ant?”
Sedel shifted her gaze back over to him, coming back to reality after a fleeting daydream. “She called herself Simadger. She was one of Oakengrove’s guards, I’m guessing.”
“Which makes me wonder, we never saw the lamia again before we were sent away.” Roderick let out a sigh. “Hopefully he’s alright, seemed like a decent fellow.”
Sedel shrugged. “I’m a little more skeptical of his motives. Caught him mumbling something as he ventured off without us. Something about a false god.”
“Religious folk are always like that,” Roderick shrugged it off, himself not being religious. “Skepticism and paranoia when they hear something like a miracle happening, but it wasn’t told to them by their clergymen. With Castias being the head druid, he’s likely to be the most paranoid.”
“This didn’t feel like typical paranoia though, or even skepticism. This sounded like premeditated intent.” Sedel argued. “It’s been rattling in my head ever since we left.”
Roderick sat upright and placed some dice on the barrel. “We got paid either way and look at us now, we’re off to slay some gnolls and save a kingdom.”
There was still a sinking feeling in Sedel’s gut. “You saw how powerful that Oakengrove character was. Aren’t you in the least bit worried?”
Roderick clasped his hands together. “If you worry about everyone else, you’ll never have time to take care of yourself. We as a warband have to look out for ourselves first. Once we have nothing to worry about, then we can focus on everyone else’s problems. Until then, don’t obsess. You’ll only lose more sleep over it.”
“I know, I know, I just, it’s weird only being hired for a one-way escort mission, especially into the woods.” Sedel grabbed a six-sided dice and lazily rolled it, landing on a four.
“Sedel, don’t fret. He’s a druid for hell’s sake and more capable than this whole warband, truth be told. He’ll be fine. We were just guides rather than bodyguards. Besides, this dune ant you mentioned, she sounds like she’s strong enough to best a Huma battalion.”
“Perhaps. I follow Enderia, and Enderics and Florists were not always kind to each other,” Sedel replied.
“Huma is way to the north and hasn’t taken part in a war for almost a century, Rykensvik and the Basar clans are both allied and predominantly Florists, the Solists and Etrurians are an ocean away,” Roderick reached out and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “I know you want to mend things, but you aren’t clergy. You have no say or control over that. It’s not your fight.”
Sedel unleashed a very drawn-out and heavy sigh of defeat. “I suppose,” her mind drew back to what started the conversation. “What did you want to know about that dune ant?”
Roderick split the dice and handed over a cup. The game of liar’s dice had begun. “Did she really look like her wild counterparts? Like honey-pot ants?”
“I suppose. She didn’t have a swollen gaster and her color was more brown than yellow.” Sedel shook the dice in the cup and slammed it down, peering into what she’d rolled. “I say there are two threes.”
“I raise you three fours,” said Roderick, not even having looked at his hand. “What’d she have for equipment?”
Sedel pondered for the moment, “I call bullshit.” Then lifted her cup to reveal a singular four. “A shallow sickle and what looked like another creature’s shell as a shield. Wore really heavy layered plate mail for armor, too.”
Roderick lifted his cup and revealed two fours. “I win.”
Sedel groaned and tossed a die from her stash. “I swear you cheat in this game.”
Roderick laughed heartily and crossed his arms, looking smug. “I just know my odds. Besides, this dune ant sounds like quite a formidable warrior. We know that Oakengrove’s slime companion is a storm mage, so what’s to say this dune ant isn’t some caster too, even if only slightly?”
Sedel shrugged. “I didn’t feel any magical presence on her unless she had something that suppressed its visibility.”
“Would be one hell of an ace up the sleeve if that’s the case,” Roderick commented, slamming his cup down. “Two threes.”
Sedel peered again into her cup, seeing exactly two threes in her hand. “If this is truly a proper reincarnation of the deity, then I’d assume he’d have the same entourage from centuries past. However, those only spoke of a dreaded flier and a creature made of pure energy. Perhaps the snow owl we saw is the dreaded flier?”
“Possibility does exist. History has a funny way of repeating itself.” Roderick finally took a moment to glance down in his hand.
“I say there are exactly three threes,” Sedel grinned.
Roderick lifted his cup and revealed a singular three. Then Sedel showed off her pair of threes. “Lucky guess,” he said, tossing a die to the side.
“Which makes me wonder. The last known extra-planar invasion was in the previous era. Perhaps we’re due for another?”
Roderick paused and pondered about it for a minute. “The hells invaded in the 2nd century, Magarath’s realm of insanity at the start of the third and I think there was Y’dall’s elemental plane of fire before the fourth.”
“So you’re saying we’re due for another extra-planar invasion?” Sedel groaned at the thought of it. “Do you suppose that treant is invading?”
“Given he’s a lesser deity whose role is the caretaker of the forest, I suspect that the balance between technology and nature is askew and his return means nature is trying to reclaim the debt humanity owes it.” Roderick then fumbled the cup and spilled his six die across the barrel. “Ah, crap.”
“If that’s so, why would he want to be left alone?” Sedel placed down the cup without rolling the die.
“It’s a test to see if his neighbors will destroy nature’s guardian. Then the forest itself would rise against all of us. Remember what happened the first time he died?”
“You know something you’re not letting on to, Roderick.” Sedel raised a brow, suspicious of how he knew all of this. “I know of the legends that a tree representing him burned during a Basar seasonal ritual.”
“Originally, I was destined to become a friar, a monk bound to a monastery of Florism. I spent most of my childhood studying Florism and Oakengrove,” Roderick explained.
“Is that why you were so willing to take the job?”
“I was hoping for an opportunity to talk to him, but his dismissiveness answered all of my questions. I grew up a Florist and I’ve been skeptical since my early twenties.” He scooped up the dice back into the cup.
“Oakengrove wasn’t cracked up to all that you were taught he was to be?” Sedel voiced a tinge of distaste.
Roderick shook his cup and flipped it. “There are two phrases that come to mind, ‘you live long enough to see yourself become the enemy’ and ‘Never meet your heroes’. I just witnessed the very entity that I was taught to love unconditionally as a kid dismiss me like some pest.”
The pair continued on their game of liar’s dice, saying no more on the subject, as both had wounds that were showing more than either wanted to acknowledge. Dmahdi was toiling away, helping the ship’s crew with the rigging, taking it as an opportunity to make the time fly. Finnegan and Roshka mulled about in a quiet corner of the ship, trying to not think about their worsening sea sickness.
It was the start of the harvest season when the ship docked in Dwarven territory. The crew chose an abandoned port city, which was shattered into cold-soaked ruins. According to the ship’s crew, the city was very much alive and thriving when they had last docked almost a year ago.
The Green Thorn Warband disembarked and the Fortune’s Maid sailed off into the horizon, not wanting to linger in what was now Gnollish territory. The cityscape was hauntingly quiet. Not even the wind whistled. From where they stood, they could see corpses scattered amongst the piles of scorched rubble. Most still had some traces of flesh and clothing on the bones.
Sedel placed a hand on Roderick’s shoulder. “You sure this is the right place?”
Roderick shook his head. “It was going to be our temporary home, but if it’s destroyed, there’s little left of the dwarven kingdom. Finnegan! Head to the other side of the city and scout the surroundings. I want to know if we’re safe here.”
The red tasaki darted off beyond the rubble.
Dmahdi walked up to a corpse and pulled off a rusted metal gauntlet, dangling a rotted forearm in it. “These people have been dead for a while. If the crew was here six months ago, I’d say they died four months ago.”
Roshka approached the same corpse and examined it. “Definitely multiple months.” He brushed aside some dust and dirt, revealing an insignia on the corroded chest plate. “City guard. I wonder if the gnolls are more organized than Jodi and Kathanac, remember?”
Roderick shrugged. “Hopefully not. We’re here to wipe out a clan and free dwarven prisoners. Fail that, avenge them.” He then cleared some debris and stretched out a map. “This is all I’ve got for a map. We’re here,” he said, pointing to the northeastern corner of the continent. “This was Numen Port. From what Jodi told me, everything south of here was already gone when they fled. They traveled straight east from their cave, which means they likely went to Mannenford Harbor, about three days south of us.”
Dmahdi scratched the back of her head and then pointed to the base of the mountain range. “So, the cave they ran from is here?”
Roderick bobbled his head. “somewhere in that area, yes. It’s going to take us quite a while to find it. We set up camp tonight and begin our trek at first light.”
Night fell upon the ruined city and the warband had set up camp in one of the more intact structures. It was an old house with multiple holes in its walls and roof, but still had enough integrity to be useful. Their camp supplies were used to block off the largest hole in the room they camped in. Amongst the scorched remains were ceramic and glass jars, some with pickled foods, some smashed and their contents spoiled rotten.
Some rooms had mostly intact beds and blankets, one even had children’s toys in it. Dmahdi picked up a toy and examined it. The toy was a wooden boat with a broken mast and cloth sails, likely once truly sea-worthy. Beside it was a burnt stuffed animal of a Kraken. A tortured smile crept onto the orc’s face as she set the toys back down.
Sedel leaned in from the doorway. “Hey, I found a weighted blanket.” She paused, glimpsing the damaged toys. “Try not to dwell on it too much, Dmahdi.”
The orc rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. “They were kids, Sedel. I do not see their bodies. I think they are with the gnolls.”
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“Let the toys rest then, their story has already been spoken for.” Sedel grabbed the orc’s shirt and gently tugged on it.
“Did I tell you why I left the clan?” Dmahdi’s gaze shifted away from Sedel after the first tear formed.
“Tell me when we get ourselves comfortable, I’m still getting my land legs back.” Sedel let go of Dmahdi’s shirt and motioned for her to follow her into the other room.
A few minutes of bedmaking felt like an hour of uneasy and stressful silence. Sedel was constantly looking towards the sorrowful orc, trying to think of a hundred and one ways to cheer her up. The orc, however, was quietly putting her mind back together. They cobbled together a bed using scrap cloth, blankets, and pillow stuffing, and then they set down to rest for the night.
Sedel gently but reassuringly grasped the orc’s hand. “You never told me the full story but you’re better than these gnolls, I can tell you that.”
Dmahdi nodded hesitantly. “I left because I could not do it. They wanted me to take slaves, to raid, steal, and to take the victims with us. I did it once, and I saw the fear in their eyes,” the orc’s voice cracked, the well of sadness overflowing within her. “I did not know just how evil I…” she paused, “we as a clan were savages.”
Sedel’s grip tightened.
“I packed up my things and boarded the first boat out of there. Landing in Anslo was the best thing that ever happen.” Dmahdi showed a pained smile. “I found you and the rest of the warband. I can do good things instead.”
Sedel smiled softly. Her heart was melting a little from the orc’s softness showing. “Seeing the toys then, knowing what we know of the gnolls from Jodi’s story, must’ve hit too close to home then?”
The orc silently nodded.
Overhead, the skies were clear, showing a million stars in an eternally dazzling dance. The moon, a bright white sphere in its full form, watched over them in the abandoned city. The first watch was being handled by Finnegan. Sitting on the roof of the house, he had a view of everything around them. The city was empty, not a sign of gnolls or monstrous creatures from his reconnaissance earlier that day. As the sun dove below the horizon, critters of the night showed. Beyond the city walls where the grass had grown wild and free, fireflies blinked in a serenade of seasonal joy. There were tens of thousands of them, some even daring to get close to the ruins of the city. Bats and other bug eaters had also begun their nightly feast.
Finnegan removed his full-arm leather armor, expecting little to happen that night. He knew not to run off to frolic like some wild animal. Roshka had drilled into him some sense of duty. He slid down towards the edge of the ceramic tile roof and stared down at his sleeping partner. “Snuggles…” The red tasaki shook his head, knowing that it wasn’t time for him to rest. He had to remain on watch. He climbed back up and stared determinately into the night.
Two hours passed without incident. Roderick was next on the night watch. The moon was at the peak in the sky and Roderick leaned against the exterior wall, smoking a cigar. He loved the smell. It was familiar to him and only smoked on missions. The smell of cigar smoke stank of home, his home in Onor. He rarely smoked. He knew it wasn’t good for his health, but being an ocean away made him a little homesick. Even the small town of Gelwood in northern Rykensvik was similar enough to not have the issue.
He walked around the city block, taking inventory of his surroundings. It was quiet except for the bats. They’d only just arrived and had yet to make themselves known to the local gnollish population. The element of surprise was in their favor.
When his watch ended, Sedel took over. She smelled the cigar on his breath and gagged, repulsed by the overwhelming stench. “Humans and their need to be doing something,” she grumbled. They deliberately put out the campfire a long time ago to avoid detection. The dark hours of the early morning made it exceptionally hard to see at distances. Some clouds had rolled in from the west and dimmed the moon with a haze. The air had developed a crisp chill to it. Yet nothing happened. All was quiet.
They gave Roshka the last watch. His eyes were the most adapted for the twilight hours just before sunrise. He toured the ruins, much like Finnegan had done the previous day. Scampering through nooks and crannies, he found many trinkets and items, although he left them where they lay, disturbed only to get a better look. That’s when he discovered something interesting. A few blocks down a neighboring street, there was a broken banner standard partially crushed beneath a collapsed house. It was not one of dwarven make. Constructed from rough-cut logs, the crudely made item included a badly woven blue vertical flag. It showed an eye inside of a key or an anchor, a similar description to the banner of the Iadosh Clan of gnolls. He couldn’t take it with him because most of it was buried, and it was too sturdy to rip apart.
He continued to roam the city, stopping only when he heard a noise. Peering around the corner, he saw something. Three figures hunched over with long snouts and a fuzzy outline. Gnolls were scouring the city. Their equipment was only light, made up of rags and scrap cloth, with a singular blade held in their hands. Roshka chucked a rock, and it clacked down the street, opposite of where he was. The gnolls became instantly distracted, giving him an opportunity to scramble to get out of there.
It wasn’t sunrise yet when Roshka arrived back at camp. He clanged rocks together to wake up the camp and stirred awake as they were. “Gnolls! Just down the road!”
Roderick picked up his ax and shield, taking a long hard look down the street. “How far?”
“A couple of blocks. We got a few minutes at best,” Roshka said.
Dmahdi scrambled to get her chest plate, and pauldrons equipped with some help from Sedel.
Finnegan was the fastest up pike in hand. “Where is gnolls?”
“Wait a moment, Finny.” Roshka placed a guiding hand on the tasaki’s chest.
Roderick continued to watch the gnolls. They were still idling a couple of blocks down, bored. “I don’t think they noticed you, Roshka. We have more time. Finnegan, you go with Roshka and flank around the side street, hit them from behind.”
Finnegan stood upright and gave a soldier’s salute, then took off running with Roshka in tow.
Roderick grinned. “Dmahdi, you and me are front and center. Sedel, give them someone to be angry at.”
The Orc gripped her halberd tightly and knocked the ax head against her black steel helmet. “I’m ready.”
Sedel placed both hands on her staff, muttering the language of the arcane before drawing out a large ball of flame from the spherical source atop the staff. “I don’t care how big the space is, I cast fireball!”
The orb of flame doubled in size and started making agitated popping noises. With a big windup, the elf threw her hand forward and launched the fireball straight down the road. One of the gnolls looked up at the last second and caught sight of it, only to take it directly to the face. The explosive nature of the spell sent out a nasty shockwave, knocking them all to the ground with successive thuds. The gnoll hit by the fireball was burnt to a crisp around the face and struggled to regain its bearings.
Coming up from their right flank, a furry blur of orange sprinted up to them and impaled the closest gnoll with the pike through the side.
Roshka was quick behind him with two daggers and made quick work of the stunned gnoll, leaving it for dead on the cobbled streets.
Roderick turned to Dmahdi and charged forward, screaming and yelling. Dmahdi followed right behind him.
Sedel raised up her staff for a second attack and pointed it forward, casting a series of ice spikes from its rounded peak. The icicles flew between the traveling companions and struck a gnoll across the whole chest, shattering into frozen splinters.
The first gnoll, impaled by the tasaki’s pike, thrashed about and swung its curved bone sword, missing him by a few feet.
The second gnoll experienced two opposites of temperature: a burnt face and a frozen torso. It stood up and howled for all to hear. Then It darted forward towards Roderick and Dmahdi, meeting them in the middle of the street, and took a swipe. It struck Roderick’s banded iron shield and bounced off. It swung a second time, using the momentum from the bounce to throw more force into it. The sword struck the human’s left arm and dug a deep gouge into it.
The third gnoll turned towards the pair of kin and charged at them, taking a swing at the raccoon-kin and missing entirely.
Dmahdi braced and came to a screeching halt, swinging the halberd hard and wide. The ax head bit right into the back of the gnoll, making it howl in agony. A hefty yank back drew the gnoll away from Roderick and brought its bloodlust gaze towards the orc instead, just as she wanted.
Finnegan pulled on the pike and stabbed the gnoll again, killing it outright.
Roshka, having dodged the counterattack, went for the creature’s hamstrings, and slashed just behind the knee, bringing it down to their level.
Sedel raised her hand and pointed at the gnoll attacking Dmahdi and Roderick, “Be Still!”
The enraged gnoll suddenly stopped moving, frozen in place unnaturally. Dmahdi took another swing, cutting downward and cleaving the beast in half.
Roderick charged forward again to relieve the two kin of their aggressor. Pulling up behind the gnoll, he took a swing with his ax and cut a gash across its back, then followed through with an overhead cleave, lodging the ax into its neck. It slumped over with nothing more than a faint whimper.
The warband stood over their kills and collectively nodded knowingly. “These were scouts, there’ll likely be more, and when these don’t return, they’ll send a search party. We need to move out.”
Later that day, the port city was just barely in view. The warband traveled inland, following the breadcrumb trail that Jodi and Kathanac laid for them. The eastern landscape of the continent was mostly grasslands and rolling hills, save for a few sparse pockets of deciduous trees. For the month of Dry Sun, it was a very cool and relaxing day. The wind was consistent but slow, making the tall wild grasses bend and bow over, like a dance.
Lunch was swiftly eaten, and the trail ahead was uncharted. Spearheading the warband’s march was Roderick and the now mustard-stained map. Unlike most maps produced out of Huma and other human nations, the one the dwarven pair had was lacking the more useful features, specifically a measurement scale, and the compass rose.
The sun was just an hour past midday when the warband had the realization that the mountain range was actually much farther away and that the map was terribly scaled in comparison. Roderick released a very defeated and frustrated sigh. “So, I just realized something.”
Sedel stopped walking, pulled off her shoe, and rubbed the arch of her foot. “We’re lost?”
“Oh gods, we better not be lost,” Dmahdi exclaimed as she marched forward to get a look at the map. She snatched it out of Roderick’s hands and gave it a long stare for about three seconds. “I can’t read this.”
Roderick rolled his eyes. “The map is not accurate to land scaling. The map makes the trip look like a one or two-day journey. I’m thinking it’ll be upwards of a week by foot.”
“We don’t have two weeks of rations on us,” Sedel commented. “And I don’t see any wild game here to hunt.”
Finnegan jumped with a raised hand. “I know where food is!”
The whole warband slowly turned to look at him. To their surprise, he’d somehow, during their hike, speared a couple of freshwater salmon. A fourth salmon was in his free hand with several chunks bitten out of it.
Roshka let out a large sigh. “Finny, did you get enough to share?”
The tasaki paused mid-bite and slowly counted the fish. “No,” he said with guilt.
“Come on, Finny, show me where you got the fish.” Roshka walked past him and grabbed his hand.
A few minutes south of them was a small river a few feet across. It was moving at speed, making any crossing a treacherous one, but in its fast-flowing waters were freshwater salmon, trying to migrate upstream. Using Finnegan’s pike, the warband gave themselves another two days’ worth of rations.
Roderick walked away from the warband for a few minutes, following the river upstream to see where it went. The grass along the river’s edge was nearly knee high, home to an unreasonable amount of mosquitos and ticks. The river seemed to go in roughly the same direction as they were, meaning it would be a great guide to ensure they stayed on the right path. He then walked back to the warband.
Sedel had taken the moment of rest to dip her legs into the cool river waters and had convinced Dmahdi to join in, although her sabatons were still on and now completely flooded.
“The river looks like it’s going the same route we are, so we’ll follow it until we either reach the base of the mountain or it veers off.” Roderick then motioned for the rest of the warband to follow. “Oh, also, bugs are highly active. Next clearing we find, check yourselves for ticks. Don’t need to be getting new diseases.”
Several days had passed. The journey inland finally reached a conclusion when the warband reached the foot of the Teyi Mountains. According to the map Roderick had, it was the spine of a mountain range that cut the continent in half and unfortunately; it was home to gnolls. During most of their traveling, they hadn’t seen a single gnoll. Now at the foot of the mountains, they saw dozens.
Ahead of the warband was a cave entrance of significant size, carved out purposefully but with no door to seal it off. Instead, standing at the mouth was a pair of gnollish guards in stolen dwarven heavy-plated armor. Gnolls were also regularly entering and exiting the cave, hauling carts with dead game, cut wood, and even war trophies. Placed at the side was a blue war banner showing an eye inside of an anchor, the symbol of clan Iadosh.
“We’re in the right place,” Roshka said. “I got a closer view, and we got two guards at all times. Gnolls with carts pass through the mouth every ten minutes. There are no light sources inside the cave, meaning we’re going in blind.”
Dmahdi peeked out over the tall grass. “Say we get through the two guards, what is stopping the other gnolls from joining the fight?”
“That’s the problem. We need a way inside without sounding the alarms,” Roderick said, eyeing the carts. “I may have just the right idea.”
The cart of choice had a large burlap cloth draped over the entire thing. Underneath it were jars of berries. The whole warband climbed on and hid themselves beneath the tarp. A few minutes later, the cart started moving sluggishly. They could hear the yips and yaps of the gnolls, likely trying to figure out why the cart was so heavy. Yet it continued to move. The cart bounced and jostled uncomfortably in the rough terrain.
Then the cart stopped and remained still for a while. Roshka peaked his head out from underneath the tarp. The cart rested in a corner of the cave inside some sort of cart storage shelter. The cave itself was tiny, with a single passage out and filled with food. Sausages, dried meats and fish, and herbs hung from various spice racks and shelving units. Not a single gnoll in sight.
“All clear.” Roshka said in a quiet voice, helping to throw off the burlap cloth.
Finnegan went straight for the barrels, curious to see what was inside of them. The lids popped off easily enough, showing off months’ worth of berry harvesting. He slowly looked over his shoulder, sneaking a hand in and grabbing some. Then wolfed them down in a single gulp.
Dmahdi ventured forward out of the storage room. The tunnel was very short, like a dead space of a hallway, whilst the other end opened up into a larger chamber. The ceiling was nearly a hundred feet up, and the interior was a massive underground city. Unlike the surface cities, which bore a resemblance to many human settlements, this one was exclusively dwarven in nature, showing squarish structures carved from the cave rather than built up and added. All along the walls were dozens of other tunnels leading out of the central chamber. However, the only creatures wandering the stone city were gnolls.