Turn 86 – Finally Lost Scale
The party soon grabbed and strapped their weapons while Talbot and Ptellac exchange more words. The snake riders jump on the worms, courteously bow to the party while Talbot says goodbyes, "You good men, must continue patrol, you leave with Ptellac. We meet in village other day." With that the snake riders leave as silently as they appeared. Ptellac takes over, "Come, we are very near our village and should reach it before nightfall. The triumvirate is aware of your coming and wishes to speak to you early tomorrow morning and there will celebration in our village, Harvest celebration and goodwill games as well for our new trade partners. Let us hasten, we may speak on our way there"
Relieved to see her friend was okay, Rayne places her weapons back in their comfortable positions and races forward to hug the pterran. "Where's the 'kreen? Was your journey uneventful and safe?"
The pterran is taken back by the questions but quickly smiles, "Aye the kreen, hard to keep up with him. Our trip was as safe as can be on these lands and we reached our village without any more hassles. Chit was quickly introduced to our druid and their work and seeing that our escort was well-armed, he decided to convey with nature and stayed behind the village and surrounding areas. I would hope to see him sometime tomorrow."
The mul continues her ramble, happiness and relief etched on her face as plainly as her tattoos, "It is great to see ye Ptellac! I am looking forward to seeing yer village and - with that skillful elf's help - making some trades and purchases!!!" Sounding like an excited child, the mul chatters on about the things she plans on doing once they reach the village. Koreth raises and eyebrow - un-use to the chattiness of the usually quiet mul. The thoughtful Tak is the first to speak up as it dawns on him what triggered this change in the mul. "This is the first time you will be in a any town as a free woman, isn't it." Rayne turns to the little halfling. Her eyes were shining with joy and all traces of fear were gone - for the time being. "Yes it is, and I can't wait to get there so pick up the pace short stuff." With a wink and a smirk, she turns back to pestering Ptellac with questions of what the village is like and what the travelers can do there.
As soon as he had recovered his obsidian scimitar and his light crossbow, Mendi crossed over the distance to Ptellac, and greeted the trader in heavily accented Pterran: "Well meDD, fRRiend TRRRadeRRR..." he began, then grinned and added in common: "I hear your people also have fighters, not only druids and traders, and from what Talbot said, there will be trading opportunities in some weapons as well, right? Anyway, are we still far from the village, I'm really eager to see the works of art of your fellow villagers!" During his speech, Mendi had punctuated his sentences with lively gesture, enhancing or emphasizing in various ways what he said. Koreth couldn't help a smile, for the elf was a Tyran merchant, no doubt, elf or not, before all: he reminded him the many human traders much more than anything else. At the same time, one could see in his stance and gait that he was also used to fighting: now that the Pterran warriors had left them, the elf sent some glance around...
Ptellac turned to Mendi and his questions, "There will be plenty of things to trade and we can talk about the small works of art that I represent.' It seemed plainly when the pterran emphasized his representation that the corner of the market for miniature statuettes was taken, at least on Lost Scale's end anyway. He scratches his head with one clawed head as if in wonder, "I don't know what Talbot said about weapons. Our weapons are not for export but we do have a couple of very skilled weapon smithies who produce 'slodaks', a very hard and sharp blades for swords and battle axes, but beware those weapons are said to be cursed. You will learn more in the village."
Ptpteic stood calmly as the ptop worm patrol slid silently in, greeting them not with the innate ease of the other pterrans, but in a manner whose slightly disjointed movements betrayed his inexperience to the observant. He eyed each of them carefully as they in turn turned their attention from Ptellac to the unusual character before them. His eyes slid from one form to another in contrast to their stares, most of which were fixated on the large, ill-fitting hat he wore. The lone article of clothing, accompanied only by a few weapons, waterskins, and an equally weathered backpack, lent him an unusual aspect and set him off most distinctly from the others. A few moments later and the patrolling pterrans shifted their gaze to othermatters, while Ptpteic followed in closely behind Ptellac, flanked by the other two druids and followed by the remainder of the party.
As Ptellac moved in to greet his companions, Ptpteic strode into the circle alongside the other Pterrans of his group, his taloned feet digging slightly into the baked earth with each footfall. Taking the position of point with the remaining Pterrans, who still maintained a cautious distance, he greeted the Tyrians with fluent common, albeit accompanied by a rather thick Balican accent. "On behalf of the most holy followers of the Earth Mother, spirit of the Pterran people, I greet you."
Tak's eyes widened at the greeting, and he regarded the Pterran with nothing short of awed respect. Bowing his head, his voice sharply accented, and quavering slightly with reverence Tak' intoned, "the force of Gaea flows through all our veins, for that Tak'Nak'Raq greets you as a friend."
The halfling then started rummaging through his pouch, a pained look on his face. That look quickly turned to relief as he pulled a white piece of bone from his pouch, presenting it to Ptpteic. "This is a tooth from a
Sandshark, sharp and jagged. As a symbol of the eternal hope of in the cycle of life I present it to your people."
Ptpteic concentrates for a few moments, puzzling over these actions and composing a response that will convey thanks and a feeling of goodwill. Snapping his head slightly as he emerges from thought, Ptpteic says, "You share with us the bounty the Earth Mother has bestowed upon you, we thank you for this honor."
<I really must investigate this little one further, most interesting, from the tales I know of his people, I did not expect his reverence to be so sensible. I hope opportunities for conversation spring up in the future,
I suspect he will prove to be most...> The druid shifts his thoughts from common to pterran as he find himself lacking a common word to express the common thinking patterns of pterrans who share a life path.
As the greetings die down and preparations to leave take the place of diplomacy, Ptpteic drifts between groups of Pterrans, each time hanging about the outskirts of the group, listening to the conversation until it
dies down, and then drifting off to another.
Ptpteic is of average height for his people, his scales seem heavily weathered, no doubt from spending his entire life outdoors under the burning sun, but they lack the characteristic patches that the others bear as a mark of their wounds in combat. Each falls in place neatly over another, save for a small area under the strap of his backpack where the traces of a wound that almost severed his arm remain, this is of course only evident when he removes his backpack. A short bow and quiver of arrows, both obviously not of Pterran make, are slung over his left shoulder, while he carries a spear in the right hand, its three fingers grasping the shaft, always with a fearsome grip. A heavily weathered backpack hangs off his shoulders, its bone frame modified slightly to accommodate his vestigial wing stumps. Atop his oblong head sits a wide brimmed hat, obviously incredibly old but still quite functional, were it not for the matter of its complete unsuitability for the pterran form. It rests, angled rather steeply upward, but still overshadowing his entire face and the vast majority of his snout. From under its protection a piercing stare shoots forward, seeming to look past your daily facade to lay bare your soul and look over it with passing interest.
Meanwhile, Tak' made sure to share a few words with Ptellac, telling him of the trials of the past few days, as well as the lessons the Pak had learnt. With a skip in his walk and barely contained exuberance, the halfling regathered his weapons, and moved to reconoiter the land ahead. This was a day of glad reunion.
Koreth quickly stalked over to the pile of weapons, immediately picking out his large sword from the pile and belting it on. The weight of the weapon set the noble warrior a little more at ease as he picked out his spear and his pair of wrist razors. He almost grabbed Rayne's pair by mistake, they were hard to tell apart. He stapped one of them onto his sword arm and tied the other to his belt.
Flexing his sword arm and gripping the leather of his lone wrist razor, he glanced over at the Pterran in the strange and very comical hat. Koreth grinned, unable to keep a boyish smile from his face. He took an
appraising glance at the Pterran's spear, comparing it to his own. Its iron tip glinted in the harsh light of sun, as Koreth admired the dwarven-crafted weapon. He would one day own a bright metal sword as well, and the light that flashed across its deadly length would instill fear into his enemies.
Elric steps slowly and calmly to the weapons pile and retrieves his belongings. Looking up as he straps his long bow to his back he sees the pterran druid with the large hat. The hat sets the druid apart though Elric suspects this pterran would stand apart even with out the hat. Nodding to himself the young half-elf watches the other pterran's casual disinterest in the druid. Indeed Elric had seen those same looks many times in his days, most often than not directed at him.
Stepping forward equipment once again in place Elric, as has become his custom gives a short bow to the newcomer. "Well met I am Elric Silvermoon of Gaigin's Pack." Turning at the slight touch to his leg Elric watches how Whisper will react to the pterran druid.
Whisper moves forward, eyes alert, muscles tense and cautiously examines the pterran. The young cub sniffed the air while its eyes stared stonily forward. The constant proximity of the ptop worm riders and their worms had caused Whisper to be very alert. Straining to detect any evidence of danger from the pterran druid, Whisper begins to draw on his inner strength.
MINDSCAPE
The small form of Whisper slowly takes shape, his stance low to the ground and alert. Scanning the area around where, in the material world, the druid is standing. Sifting through the flows of scents and feelings from the area Whisper works to determine if the pterran is a danger to himself and his companion Elric.
With a purr the small tagster cub relaxes slightly then steps around Elric's leg and heads towards Ptellac. Obviously satisfied that there is no danger present. With a smile Elric looks to Ptellac "It would seem as your friend has met Whisper's standards and has been found acceptable."
Ptellac nods towards Elric and Ptpteic as his gaze lingers off just a bit trying to figure out the new pterran druid, <As if making new races was not enough, I have to figure out a pterran druid as well…> The pterran trader's thought hangs in the air for just a bit as he goes over to greet Ayrus and Gaigin. After a short while, the whole entourage was on its way to wards the pterran village.
ON THE 'ROAD' AGAIN
The sun bore down, although with friends around it did not seem so harsh. With a short laugh and a full smile Tak' pondered the other peculiarities of life. One could be home in a place they had never been before, or have brotherly kinship with someone who could have been prey. There were missing parts to Tak' that he never even knew were empty, and now they were being filled.
The halfling moved from his place at the front, picking out Koreth and used his spear-pommel to tap the nobleman on the shoulder. Koreth responded in a flash, his athletic body jerking around and for an instant a spark of anger and surprise filling his eyes. Rather than be alarmed, Tak' smiled - part of his theory had already been proven.
Taking up a walking position beside Koreth, Tak' addressed his larger student, "you are trying to learn the Way in the manner of your people, Your schools of the mind teach the emptying of the mind, leaving only cold calm and calculated reason. But is this not like teaching a plant to grow only in the shade, thinking that the sun can only burn and blister?" Tak' let the analogy set in, and seeing Koreth look to the halfling for more, he continued.
"This denies fully half of existence, for where then is the place for emotion and intuition? Emotions and passion runs strong in you noble-Koreth," Tak' said, tapping the nobleman over the heart with the blunt end of his spear. "This has served you well facing bodily foes, and I suspect is the key to you facing those of the mind. You must learn to harness, instead of rejecting your emotions and feelings. You must try to let your passions take form"
"When we next stop to water, we will enter the mindscape. Until then, think over what I have said." With that, the halfling left to resume his scouting role - leaving Koreth to mull over what was said.
BREAKTIME:
Tak' sat down, cross-legged as he prepared himself physically for the task ahead. "I think I am strong enough to withstand your attacks, and will try to draw your anger out. You need not worry that you are not fully rested - it is in times of stress and weakness when emotions are easiest to access."
"This will seem real, and I will not hold back in trying to lure your emotions out. Restraint will not help you, and you must remember that your emotions must be harnessed - not allowed to overcome you fully." With a single shake of his black mane of hair, and a quiet exhale of breath Tak' closed his eyes and entered the mindscape.
MINDSCAPE:
The land surrounding the two travelers was bare and flat. The faint halos of their companions flitted around, adding to the impression of a place where mirages came to rest. Tak' wasted no time, sparing only a quick glance around him as his body began to dissipate into a black cloud - splitting himself thousands and thousands of times.
As the cloud of wasps formed, buzzing ominously, each had the symbol of house Stel upon them. The black cloud started streaming towards the nobleman, their buzzing forming the growing chant, "Koreth, Koreth, Koreth cannot harm us..."
Just as the stinging insects started to stream out towards him the nobleman's eyes widened. Perhaps the Mind tutors of his youth were not such harsh teachers after all....
The stinging insects buzzed about him, nipping everywhere at once at his flesh. He swatted them with both hands, growing angrier and angrier at both the pain and their taunting chant. He swung his arms about before him, trying to crush the bugs in his hands. He knew that he was in the mindscape, but his will remained locked up inside him. It was like a river of water buried deep underground.
Almost mockingly Koreth shouted out, "Why don't you turn into my father if you really want to anger me!" To his surprise, the buzzing cloud of insects began to condense into a pulsing form of ever-moving bugs. The insects seem to melt together, colors swirling out as they did, forming the shape of his father.
"You worthless waste of water," his father growled at him, his face twisting into an all to familiar sneer "I hope you die out in the desert, boy, that way I won't have to pay to bury you." Koreth's anger boiled up within him quickly and readily, his eyes grew darker and darker in color. The noble warrior, so lost in his anger, forgot that he was only in the mindscape. He wished only to lash out, to crush, to destroy the person before him.
"I AM NOT WORTHLESS!" Koreth screams across the barren mindscape and its almost alien landscape. His anger seething and boiling, his will comes easily and smoothly. His desire and hatred do reflexively for him what he could not do by himself. A large bastard sword appears in his hand, its blade glowing an angry red. The noble warrior can contain himself no longer and he launches himself at his father with all the might he can muster. His fiery blade smashes onto a small leather shield that forms out of nothing and appears on his father's arm. The blade bounces off in a spray of fiery sparks.
"Come now boy, didn't Crel teach you better than that," his father mocks at him, a cruel smile upon his lips. Koreth screams impotent fury across the mindscape and launches himself at his father once again. The figure easily sidesteps the powerful, but hasty attack.
"Your mother must have laid with one of the slaves," his father mocks him once again, his voice cutting like an obsidian knife "you cannot be my son, you are too weak." Koreth clenches his sword with a white-knuckle grip, his eyes growing darker than they ever have before.
"I'll cut your bloody tongue out for that you sand brained, bloody elvish whore!" the noble warrior yells in fury, the insult to his mother too much for him to take. He grips the sword in both of his large hands and crashes into the form of his father. He thrusts his sword deeply into the figure, its red-hot blade sending a Tyr storm of anger and pain into Tak'. For the briefest of time, the halfling knew and understood the true source of the noble warrior's pain and anger. Then it was gone.
Koreth, still lost in his anger, had forgotten where he truly was. He screamed a dwarven war cry and launched himself at his father for another attack. As he charged across the alien landscape, vegetation seemed to sprout out of nowhere. Soon he was in a lush and humid forest and the visage of his father had vanished into the trees.
"Come out you coward! Come out and taste my blade!" the noble warrior shouted out into the forest, his eyes searching about for any sign of his enemy.
Tak' watched the angry form of Koreth as he stumbled about in search of his father. The Tyrian had much to learn. His anger would give him the means to strike out with his will, if he could only learn control over it. The noble warrior had some real deep down trauma he would have to come to terms with, until then he was dangerous in his blind rage. And for the briefest of moments, Tak' had understood exactly what that pain truly was. If he could only discover it once again.
Suddenly, they were both out of the mindscape and back in the scrublands with a wide-eyed crowd surrounding them. Koreth was panting heavily, a strange feeling of emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Tak did not look that better, his long hairs plastered to his face as the small mindbender sweated more than expected. The halfling recovered his senses first as he smiled and reached toward Koreth. The noble-warrior still looked about not totally convinced that it was safe as he looks at his hands and torso for any sign of the telltale stings from the insects remembering all too plainly when Mendi had returned from a psionic battle with two puncture wounds on his body. "It is all right Koreth, we did not go that far so as to bring lasting wounds on our bodies but we came close. I am spent." The curious onlookers soon left them as Tak and Koreth spoke in hushed tones of their experiences. Everyone was back on the road casting long shadows towards the east as the sun's cruel rays were engulfed by the night.
They stopped briefly for a quick meal not wanting to spend another night out in the open. It was clear that they were approaching the village as they started to see more and more pterrans about. Each party was courteously greeted and the pterrans traveled for a brief time before parting with them. For almost all of them, it was the first time that these strange races were met. They passed by fields of crops and saw pens for livestock while looking at their first dwellings. The huts were made from what appeared to be baked clay bricks at the bottom and topped off by thatched roofs. The strong straw-like material was held together by what seemed like dried mud that gave it a sturdy feel to it; this wasn't going to be blown away by just any wind. The recent tremors have had quite an effect on some of the dwellings and evidence such as cracked walls, or roofless huts were not uncommon. Hasty repairs had been done or were in the process of being put in place in all of the houses.
Curiously enough, there were no walls or gates at the village, the only sign was that the "huts" grew closer together and had a definite patterns to them. The village seemed organized on a wheel pattern. They traveled some more distance and would have met a lot more people had it not been late into the night. Ptellac showed to an area where there was series of huts waiting for them. Each hut was small enough for one person and seemed newly built. Once inside they found out that it contained a table and stool with bowl of water, more dried meats and fresh fruits. There was a large empty coffer and a mushy bed set upon logs. The furniture was devoid on anything fancy but it was sturdy and well finished. They quietly undressed and crashed down on their beds, that last 16-hour march had taken its toll and everyone was quickly asleep.
Expedition Day 20 - Year of the Desert's Fury of the 190th King's Age (Free Year 11)
Hinterlands - Lost Scale
They were woken up by Ptellac but it was still dark! The trader was dressed in a strange green and brown soft leather tunic that sported scenes of pterran life and culture braided on its back. Each one of the party was given similar tunics with different scenes. The clothing was large and fit everyone more or less well except Tak who seemed to have fallen into the garment. No one paid much attention because they were half-asleep except Elric and Rayne who giggled at the sight. Tak paid no heed to them and was deeply touched by his new gift that sported pterran life at its best. This particular scene showed pterran agriculturists "feeding" the earth with nutrients before and after the harvest, something that some people in the tablelands hadn't figured out yet. The pterrans prayed and communed WITH the earth during all their farming activities. The small hunter somehow didn't hear the giggles and curt jokes coming the pranksters of the group, "Hey shorty, did they give YOU a dress?"
Although the sun had barely shown its rays, there was much activity in the village as workers and animal handlers left for the fields to do their work. They passed by another large group of pterrans who were heavy with backpacks. Ptellac answered their curious stares, "Pterrans from Pterran Vale, did I not tell you that today we have big celebrations? We may even get to see a traditional game of Pato, not a real one of course, just current day mocks of the ancient Pato." Upon seeing everyone draw blank looks on their face, the saurian trader smiled, "Come let us hasten, the triumvirate will be busy all day with rites and celebrations, we have been blessed with first audience. You will learn more about Pato and pterran culture later on, I promise."
The party interned themselves deeper into the center of the village, seeing more and more huts. The streets sported grass and every house had plants and gardens designed in them. Nature was never far away from the pterrans and they took special pride in their dwellings giving Lost Scale an open plain feeling. Although pterran houses surrounded one, the air flowed freely and carried none of the tainted smell of the cities of the tablelands. A field of wildflowers signaled that they neared the "Womb" as the pterrans called their meeting place.
The Womb was a small meeting place marked by gardens intermingled with sculptures depicting Earth Mother in all her splendor. There were living wooden statues of pterran heroes as pterran master gardeners tended to them, clipping them and twisting them in beautiful ways. The trees complied with the artists' whims and fancies and blossomed into a myriad of colors. "Ptellac smiled and proudly stated, our living statues. A pride and joy to our people and culture, the statues are as old as our village and a testament to our vital link to Earth Mother."
The party seated themselves in a semicircle around three majestic figures. The three pterrans in front of them were heavily wrinkled and walked slowly as if reverencing time itself. Their fragile appearance was quickly dissipated when they met their gaze. Their eyes had life and firmness to them, they had a feeling of perpetuity to them that made everyone silently bow their heads in front of the three. They were all surprised when the speech commenced in flawless common, "Welcome, and thank you for coming. Ptellac has told us how you saved his life many times and risked your lives for other pterrans on the ways. This speaks highly of you. I understand that Tyr has sent its best and it will be good for the pterran people to see and form opinions of you. I hope that whoever follows you are as worthy as you are."
The sun had peaked over the horizon and shone upon the back of the three speakers. It made the group of heroes squint and made the pterrans loom even larger than before. "We as leaders of the pterrans have only one demand of you and your people, the rest of the economical questions can be discussed with Ptellac and other master traders later. We request that you respect life and recognize Earth Mother as the ONLY giver of life; that is all. We hope that you remain with us a few days before departing and get to know a little a bit about our culture and ways." Another female pterran continued, "I represent the Path of the Druid in our culture and Earth Mother is not content with how she is being treated. Proof of this are the recent tremors and earthquakes that are but a small omen of worst things to come, I am afraid that war, famine, plague or worse may be headed our way if we do not change our ways. It is part of this opening of our villages across the mountains that we also want to share our views and each people how Earth Mother should be treated to avert these terrible consequences."
The last of the pterrans elders addressed the group, "Although, we know of you, we would like for each of you to briefly introduce yourselves, tell us how Earth Mother gifted you with special talents and swear that you will uphold life wherever you go."
Your actions…
OUT OF CHARACTER
HEALTH STATUS
Remember the scale:
Healthy (H) 100% hitpoints remaining
Slightly Wounded (SiW) 75% to 100% hitpoints remaining
Wounded (W) 50% to 75% hitpoints remaining
Seriously Wounded (SeW) 25% to 50% hitpoints remaining
Mortally Wounded (MW) 0% to 25% hitpoints remaining
Gaigin (H)
Koreth (H)
Ayrus (H)
Tak (H)
Rayne (H)
Mendi (H)
Elric (H)
Whisper (H)
GENERAL
I want to thank Matt and Trevor for their psionic training; truly the highlight of the turn; keep it up guys.
OK, here is the deal, roleplay the following:
You will attend the Pato exhibition in the afternoon in the following turn.
Places to visit in the village (i.e. I have something set up already, but not this coming turn) are:
I am looking forward to this part of the game.
Questions, comments, and suggestions please.
L8r,
Fabian