The Trio
The three of them walk through the dense patch of woods into a clearing where the sweet mouth-watering scent of rotting meat coupled with burnt fur fills the air. Many of their pack are already dining.
“Hey! Save a neck for me!” Genkfuh always had a thing for the mushiness of the neck after about 3 days of rest.
Genkfuh, Sawtun, and Prigdat rush to the pile of deer on the ground for their rations.
SAWTUN: So, what, are we just waiting around here again today? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love that we get our meals, but it’s been pretty boring out here.
PACK LORD: BORING?! Get back to your post!
Sawtun hesitates.
PACK LORD: NOW!!!
Sawtun scurries off in the forest.
PACK LORD: Anyone else have a problem with your orders?
The rhetorical question is met with silence.
PACK LORD: Good. Eat.
The pack lord doesn’t join them; he returns to his private conversation with the two Fangs as they were known.
After having their fill, Genkfuh and Prigdat go back to their post just outside the patch of forest and meet up with Sawtun.
PRIGDAT: I thought he was going to release your fucking spirit!
Genkfuh smacks Prigdat’s arm with the back of his hand.
SAWTUN: Yeah, I know, right? I have to learn to keep my mouth shut.
Sawtun looks to the left and right and sees no one else except the 3 of them. There was one of the more feral creatures known as a Gnawer nearby, but he wouldn’t notice.
SAWTUN: Hey, look what I got.
He opens his claw to reveal 3 small pouches.
GENKFUH: Where’d you get those?
SAWTUN: SHHH!!
All 3 of them glance around to see if they’d drawn any attention.
PRIGDAT: You’d better not get caught with that. Where DID you get that anyway?
SAWTUN: Don’t worry about it. I’m thinking we drop this tonight. I mean, I need to get rid of it right? And come on. We’ve been out here for months. What’s the chances something goes awry today of all days?
Prigdat and Genkfuh look at each other and shrug. All of them remove a small crystal from their pouches, place them under their tongues, then toss away the pouches.
Just after, Prigdat and Sawtun notice Genkfuh staring in the distance, his mouth slightly agape.
They look in the direction he is facing to see a goat standing on top of the large jutting-out rock they’d come to name the beacon.
GENKFUH: This is some good shit. Not like what you dosed us with back east.
The daytime hours speed by in a blur while the trio watch thin outlines of fey creatures hop around within the forest.
Without warning, one of the gnolls in the clearing howls and is immediately followed by several others joining in. Ah. Sundown. The best kind of down.
What seemed like a few minutes later, they hear the sounds of an injured bear between the beacon and the closest hill. Four of the ranged hunters go running after it.
GENKFUH: This is the most action we’ve had since we got here.
PRIGDAT: Wait. You think that goat did it?
SAWTUN: What? Hurt the bear? Really?
PRIGDAT: You don’t fucking know.
SAWTUN: Yeah, but come on.
PRIGDAT: What the fuck else is out here that we’ve seen?
The 3 of them suddenly look very on edge and stand back-to-back-to-back, their spears outward as if they were surrounded.
SAWTUN: Surely, we can take down a simple goat.
GENKFUH: Tell that to the bear.
PRIGDAT: Fuck that goat.
They see the hunters split up; 2 go on the hill, 2 disappear behind the beacon. Clearly, they are in combat, but it must not be too dire if the others haven’t joined in. Fuck that goat.
They suddenly hear a visceral scream. It’s one of theirs!
GENKFUH: Oh shit!
3 more gnolls and 1 more hunter run to assist. The trio stand in defense, trying not to be terrified. The outlined tree spirits seem to be getting agitated. Surely all of those guys can handle 1 goat, right?
Then they hear it… The call for help… Of all days it has to be when they are tripping out of their minds. Their instincts take over and they rush towards their comrades.
They close in on the beacon and are relieved to see one of their buddies coming towards them. The trio slow down, thinking this was the height of it and the goat has been slaughtered. But this is nowhere near the height of it. He is suddenly gripped from some long thorny whip from behind the beacon. It slices through their friend’s flesh. He falls flat on his face and is dragged behind the rock.
The 3 gnolls stand in horror as the wispy spirit of their friend escapes his body.
PRIGDAT: Fuck!
GENKFUH: …it does exist…
SAWTUN: Hey look! The bear! I knew that goat couldn’t have killed it!
They run towards the action, trying to position themselves between the beacon and the hill. As they round the beacon, they find a few of their dead comrades not more than 30 feet away. A few of them are still alive and fighting a bunch of forest folk. One of them suddenly becomes frosted over by some sort of magic and the frosty gnoll is then smacked by some sort of energy arrow.
They decide to take a few steps back behind the beacon after the bear on the hill suddenly launches himself off of it – and yes, it was very clearly a “him” … it was a pretty far jump … and from a decent height – and lands on one of their friends. They hear it roar and expect he’s done for, but he manages to wedge the shaft of his spear into its mouth!
Another one of the forest folk sprays a greenish cloud out his palm. The cloud encircles one of their kind. Just as it obscures his head completely, it is disturbed by the quick movement of the gnoll’s head to the side, followed immediately by projectile vomiting.
PRIGDAT: The fuck is this shit?!
The Tripping Trio is somewhat snapped out of their stupor when a spear tip goes quizzing by their heads.
GENKFUH: You guys see that?
SAWTUN: Yeah.
Genkfuh and Prigdat say, in unison, “Good.”
GENKFUH: One of ours?
SAWTUN: Yeah.
PRIGDAT: Guys, we don’t have much of a choice. We have to jump in the fray. The longer we wait, the worse our chances.
SAWTUN: Why did this have to be today of all days…
The cry of another fallen pierces their ears. The sound envelops them and returns to the air above as a wispy smoke.
GENKFUH: I don’t know if I can do this, guys.
Another yell. This time, not of death. Not right away. It’s a yell of fear. Of disengagement. Then silence.
Prigdat looks like he is about to run in, but there are no more battle sounds. Genkfuh grasps Pridgat’s arm and shakes his head.
In a hushed whisper, he pleads with Prigdat.
SAWTUN: Stop. I mean, if all our guys are dead, there’s no way just us three are doing this alone.
He pauses.
SAWTUN: Plus, do you hear that?
PRIGDAT: What?
GENKFUH: He’s right.
PRIGDAT: “He’s right” what?
GENKFUH: There’s nothing. Maybe they’re leaving? Maybe we should be leaving too?
They nod to each other and quietly race back to their post across the clearing. By the time they get there, now well into twilight, they are questioning whether any of that actually happened. They don’t have long to ponder that and the essence of their existence before they are confronted with the reality that is way stranger than they could have expected.
Racing across the field are two forest folk alongside a bear with a midget… *ahem* little person… on its back waving a staff as big as he is. The trio stands watching them, their mouths wide open. Sawtun giggles quietly.
PRIGDAT: Look alive folks!!!
The adrenaline pumping through him spikes his visuals and a warm rush flows over his skin.
PRIGDAT: Oh fuck yeah!!!
This gets the attention of the nearby gnawer and the 2 other hunters. All of them watch as the forest folk approach the tree line.
Suddenly, lightning strikes the ground nearby. The bolt singes their fur a bit, but nothing too major. When they look back to the invaders, one of them is missing.
GENKFUH: Hey, weren’t there two of them running on foot?
Prigdat disregards this piece of information and rushes towards the invaders. The gnawer follows and begins to overtake him.
The hunters behind him are taking aim. Genkfuh elbows Sawtun.
GENKFUH: Come on man. We have to do this. We enlisted for this.
Sawtun gets his game face on, pounds his chest and the two of them chase after Prigdat and the gnawer, spears in hand.
The arrows sail towards the little person riding bear-back. Three woosh past, but one strikes true, almost knocking him off.
Prigdat and the gnawer are able to get in front of the bear before it can reach the tree line. The gnawer is the first to jump at the bear. Sawtun and Genkfuh are just about to go after the straggler that was running after the bear, who has some sort of constellation painted on him, but before they can, they are suddenly surrounded by a green gas.
Genkfuh coughs and gags.
GENKFUH: Behind us!
Sawtun turns around to see a glimpse of an orangish someone who instantly vanishes.
SAWTUN: Get back here and fight fair!
Sawtun pulls a dagger and holds it behind his back. Behind him, he can hear the gnawer gnashing into the bear. Once the cloud clears, he turns to fight those he can see.
PRIGDAT: Where’s the midget?!
GENKFUH: Little person.
PRIGDAT: God fucking damnit!
Lightning strikes the ground directly between all of them, releasing all of their wispy, white smoke.
The Inner Circle
GUARD: So, what, are we just waiting around here again today? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love that we get our meals, but it’s been pretty boring out here.
FLAYGON: BORING?! Get back to your post!
The guard looks to be shaking in his boots. Good.
FLAYGON: NOW!!!
The guard scurries off in the forest.
FLAYGON: Anyone else have a problem with your orders?
The rhetorical question is met with silence.
FLAYGON: Good. Eat.
Pack Lord Flaygon returns to his private conversation with Rushtak and Hingtil, the two Fangs assigned to him at this outpost.
FLAYGON: You can’t let something like that go. It shakes the morale of everyone and jeopardizes our mission.
RUSHTAK: Agreed. Glad to see you act swiftly.
HINGTIL: I’m finally beginning to believe in what the coven said about you. That says a lot because I don’t trust easily.
FLAYGON: Yes. I know. But I serve the mission, not you. So you will understand that I do not much care for what you think of me or my capabilities.
RUSHTAK: This was a compliment.
FLAYGON: Layered on the premise that I am inept. Now, let’s get to work.
The 3 enter the Pack Lord’s tent. They spend the time discussing supplies and contingencies.
Without warning, one of the gnolls in the clearing howls and is immediately followed by several others joining in.
RUSHTAK: Sundown.
HINGTIL: The best kind of down.
Flaygon just grunts in acknowledgement. This must be the hundredth time he’s heard that over his time just at this outpost.
A commotion snaps them out of the daily drudgery. Flaygon, Rushtak, and Hingtil leave the tent to look for the source. The three gnawers in the clearing seem to be getting more agitated. One of the guards sees the Pack Lord and approaches to address the cries from outside the patch of forest.
GUARD: Pack Lord, sir, it seems to be coming from south.
FLAYGON: Find out what is going on and report back.
Flaygon turns to the Fangs.
FLAYGON: This could be it. The reason we’re here.
Rushtak begins to salivate at the thought.
HINGTIL: Nice.
They arm up, but are interrupted by the sound of an explosion. This is now the third strike of lightning from a sky without a storm. Two guards run into the clearing.
GUARD: Pack Lord, sir, we are under attack!
FLAYGON: By who… or what?
GUARD: Sir, not sure sir. There was some sort of commotion, then a search party went to check it out and never returned. There was a bear and some small forest folk that have disappeared into the forest.
Flaygon takes a defensive stance and looks around the entire clearing, trying to glimpse anything out of the ordinary between the trees. He speaks to the Guard without looking at him.
FLAYGON: You’ve done well. Go reinforce the line. We will prepare to defend the clearing.
The guards run off as Flaygon turns to the Fangs. He slowly takes a deep breath. With a low and menacing voice, he tells them, “we’re on!”
The Fangs go into battle mode, looking for anything to kill coming from the trees. The gnawers circle around the clearing with the same intent.
The gnawers seem to have picked up on something. Someone or something not-gnollish is in the woods. They seem to lose interest after a short time. Suddenly that non-gnollish something makes itself known; an orange, slender fey eladrin runs into the clearing and sprays poison from his hand right into one of the gnawer’s faces.
The gnawer takes a knee in a coughing fit for a few moments, but when he stands back up, the creature is gone.
GNAWER: GNNNAAAAARRRR!!!
Suddenly he is smacked in the head by a large rock and falls silent. Suddenly, Hingtil, Flaygon, and one of the gnawers begin to glow with a dim blue light, their profiles etched in teal against the continuously darkening clearing.
Rushtak begins backing away from them. He turns away from them with a quick jump, now in full battle mode. He can feel the Lord passing through him.
FLAYGON: COME OUT AND FIGHT!
The moon itself seems to be against them this night. This is not the moon they know. Flaygon feels his fur beginning to singe. He is smacked by an arrow made of pure energy, annihilating on impact and leaving a small patch of bare skin. Suddenly, the orange eladrin makes himself seen again long enough to thrash Flaygon with a thorny whip. Just as quickly as he appears though, he is gone.
Flaygon screams in the moonlight with frustration and fury.
FLAYGON: GET THAT ORANGE TWIT! Wait, there’s something else glowing in the woods!
Flaygon directs the gnawers to take action.
One of the gnawers goes after the glowing archer constellation, biting and clawing at the forest creature. A smaller forest dweller rushes up to the gnawer, bashing it with his staff. Just as the gnawer turns its attention, the forest dweller vanishes.
The gnawer roars into the sky.
FLAYGON: Rushtak! Hingtil! Over there!
The Pack Lord is pointing to the glowing constellation being attacked by the gnawer. Rushtak and Hingtil rush over. Rushtak is the first to arrive. He bites down hard on the human-like creature, drawing blood. He tries to claw the creature, but the creature evades both attacks.
Flaygon feels the moonbeam’s strength wane and realizes it is moving! He watches it go into the forest and stop on Rushtak and the gnawer. When it comes to rest, both are badly burned by its light. Both of them yell out in ferocious harmony. The gnawer cannot take anymore; it falls in a heap to the ground, twitching as its fur smokes slightly.
Flaygon is interrupted by the same thorny whip that got him last time, except now he is yanked backwards ten feet. He turns to see it is the eladrin. Just as he is ready to get his revenge, the eladrin disappears again.
FLAYGON: FUCK YOOOOOOOOU!!!
The last gnawer runs towards the moonbeam and attacks the constellation creature. It gouges the invader deeply. That look in his eyes. Yeah, the gnawer knows that look. It’s the look of almost-ready dinner. Rushtak recognizes it too. Just as he is about to eat him alive, he is attacked by a small halfling forest creature with a staff.
RUSHTAK: You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, little man.
Rushtak lunges at the halfling. Hingtil notices the scuffle and rushes over, attacking the little guy from behind.
The gnawer, distracted by the nearby action, turns away for a moment. When he turns back to the constellation creature, he is gone.
GNAWER: GNNNAAAAARRRR!!!
Flaygon glances around, intent to catch that eladrin when he shows up again. Ah. There he is.
The eladrin rushes from the tree line directly at Flaygon, but Flaygon is ready this time. At least, he thought he was. He had not been expecting this fey creature to suddenly lunge at him with extra long and sharp teeth. The creature manages to bite his neck, spilling a lot of blood and forcing him to waver side to side for a few moments. Just as he refocuses on the eladrin, the searing pain kicks in. Acid.
FLAYGON: The fuck!! Hingtil! Rushtak! Over here!
Hingtil and Rushtak offer no response. Flaygon’s eyes flutter open and closed for a second, but that is enough time for the eladrin to get away… again. Knowing this will be his end frees his actions to berserker levels. What else is there to lose?
The gnawer sees the glowing constellation about 30 feet away and runs after it, biting the creature’s arm and causing it to yell out in pain. It sounds… strangely human-like. Mmmmm… tasty human-like! The gnawer snaps out of it as he realizes he is on fire!
GNAWER: GNNNAAAAARRRR!!!
The flames from a bonfire lick at his entire body from below. Yikes. The gnawer goes running into the clearing.
The skyward moonbeam seems to be tracking it as it runs just 5 feet behind. When the gnawer gets towards the middle of the clearing, it begins to roll around to put out any remaining flames, but it still feels as if it is burning. The moonbeam settles on him, scorching his flesh and singing more of its already-patchy fur.
The gnawer reaches out to Flaygon for help. Flaygon can’t stand to look, but it gives him a resolve he’s never felt before. Not even back in the Wastes of Chilran. He’s still shaken by that time in his life, but now is his opportunity to prove himself worthy.
He awakes froma rest he’d not realized he’d taken. His wrists are bound. He squirms, looking for any sign of his pack. As he looks around, he catches the eye of the constellation creature. Flaygon tries to wriggle free while also trying to find the bodies of the Fangs. None… just the gnawers… They either fled the area and are coming back… or they’re not…
FLAYGON: GET BACK HERE!
The Roots
Lucian looks down at the hyena-like creature. He attunes himself with his animalistic side to attempt a conversation.
LUCIAN: Who are you? And what are you doing here?
The creature seems intelligent; much more than a simple beast. It seems that his words did not get through exactly, but the meaning seems to be understood.
PACK LORD: Garusnty asyhunfi afoima. Hudwo nuj reinty.
Though Lucian does not understand the words, he would know the “eat shite and die” look and the “I will fucking kill you” tone. One thing sticks out in his mind though; something about “never finding it,” whatever that means.
LUCIAN: Where is it?
This time, he seems to have tapped into some ancient ancestry of the creature, perhaps to when his kind were feral beasts. The creature seems to have understood him.
PACK LORD: It doesn’t matter where it is. You’ll never get to it. It doesn’t matter if it’s in any direction or to the north. It doesn’t matter.
Lucian Frostbites the creature’s arm. It screams out in pain. Lucian looks around through the dark forest to see if any others were alerted. He walks away fromt he creature and past Artair.
LUCIAN: Do it.
Artair does not hesitate. He walks up to the creature with his scimitar and slits its throat. He wipes the blade and stows it as the creature coughs and gurgles to death.
Artair and Lucian nod to each other. Artair walks up to the closest tree and looks around at the foliage. He finds one that seems to be particularly talkative and attunes himself with his foliagistic side.
ARTAIR: I am in service of the trees and earth. Can you tell me who has passed through here?
The entirety of the forest seems to welcome him. They tell him: “Creatures came here some weeks ago. A meeting occurred. Still creatures nearby. Welcome your aid in ridding them from the area. The rest went north.”
And that is how the Roots (almost completely) dispatched their first Gnoll Camp.
We end this session on Day 669 with the Roots having earned 1,525 XP each. They will be continuing north, once they are sure the camp is clear, hoping to stumble onto the first location they seek.