HHE8: Renn and Caeric - Fri 09/10/15 21:27 UTC
GM
The land rose in fits and spurts, as Seyja and Zoltan led you up into the foothills of the Titan's Elbow.
Although there was more shade under the trees, any breeze along the valley was stifled and there was no light mist from the river.
After the exertion of battle, you might have thought you'd no more sweat in you, but walking amongst those pines, with no wind or sun's rays drying you, you felt rivulets on your skin. As afternoon stretched, so did the shadows, to almost impossible lengths. The patchy light was golden, turned amber and the fragrance of the forest seemed to double in intensity, as did the insects. Noisy chicadas chirruped from every bush, and clouds of gnats danced in every patch of sunlight.
The slope was steep enough in places that you had to scramble up on hands and knees, or climb between tree trunks like a natural flight of stairs. But visibility into the forest remained good, 40 feet, often more. Even then, the pines were thin and straight, the undergrowth fine, and would provide little hiding place for more orcs. Most of you had seen far older, darker and more forboding forest than this, but that didn't mean the forest of the Sword Point was harmless. The spaciousness suggested seasonal wildfires for one thing, and for another it was still untamed, as the cave lions proved.
And despite appearances, several times, as you walked, you got the sensation you were being watched. From where you could not tell, nor whether it was benevolent or malevolent eyes watching.
***
Hours later. Seyja caught the whiff of an acrid smell, her nostrils flared. If she turned to Zoltan, he nodded, picking it up too. They didn't recognise it, and nor did the rest of the party except perhaps Jex. If he did, it would have brought back very troubling memories.
You were clambering up a slope of loose dirt, interspersed with lumpy rock outcrops. It burned the thighs and was steep enough to lean forward onto your fingertips if need be, but was a fast route upwards.
Broken trees with splintered stumps were the first signs of disturbance.
Weapons were loosened in scabbards, but it soon became evident that the danger had (in some respects) passed.
It came into view.... Lying in and amongst the trees was a large skeleton of glistening stone, tangled amongst some kind of rigging or tack.
You saw the skull, curling ram-like horns, sharp, interlocking teeth the length of a man's hand. You saw claws. You saw what might have been wings once, when they would've had a leathery membrane stretched across them.
Dragon bones. Dead dragon. Like all of its kind, soon after dying the magic confined in the dragon's mortal form had consumed it, leaving only the infamous petrified bones. Where they had broken, you could see wonderful, crystalline colours. The acrid smell rose from these remains and the area around them.
As you spread out, you realised this was not just a dragon. It had been muzzled and saddled. These were the remains of a dragon rider.
The land rose in fits and spurts, as Seyja and Zoltan led you up into the foothills of the Titan's Elbow.
Although there was more shade under the trees, any breeze along the valley was stifled and there was no light mist from the river.
After the exertion of battle, you might have thought you'd no more sweat in you, but walking amongst those pines, with no wind or sun's rays drying you, you felt rivulets on your skin. As afternoon stretched, so did the shadows, to almost impossible lengths. The patchy light was golden, turned amber and the fragrance of the forest seemed to double in intensity, as did the insects. Noisy chicadas chirruped from every bush, and clouds of gnats danced in every patch of sunlight.
The slope was steep enough in places that you had to scramble up on hands and knees, or climb between tree trunks like a natural flight of stairs. But visibility into the forest remained good, 40 feet, often more. Even then, the pines were thin and straight, the undergrowth fine, and would provide little hiding place for more orcs. Most of you had seen far older, darker and more forboding forest than this, but that didn't mean the forest of the Sword Point was harmless. The spaciousness suggested seasonal wildfires for one thing, and for another it was still untamed, as the cave lions proved.
And despite appearances, several times, as you walked, you got the sensation you were being watched. From where you could not tell, nor whether it was benevolent or malevolent eyes watching.
***
Hours later. Seyja caught the whiff of an acrid smell, her nostrils flared. If she turned to Zoltan, he nodded, picking it up too. They didn't recognise it, and nor did the rest of the party except perhaps Jex. If he did, it would have brought back very troubling memories.
You were clambering up a slope of loose dirt, interspersed with lumpy rock outcrops. It burned the thighs and was steep enough to lean forward onto your fingertips if need be, but was a fast route upwards.
Broken trees with splintered stumps were the first signs of disturbance.
Weapons were loosened in scabbards, but it soon became evident that the danger had (in some respects) passed.
It came into view.... Lying in and amongst the trees was a large skeleton of glistening stone, tangled amongst some kind of rigging or tack.
You saw the skull, curling ram-like horns, sharp, interlocking teeth the length of a man's hand. You saw claws. You saw what might have been wings once, when they would've had a leathery membrane stretched across them.
Dragon bones. Dead dragon. Like all of its kind, soon after dying the magic confined in the dragon's mortal form had consumed it, leaving only the infamous petrified bones. Where they had broken, you could see wonderful, crystalline colours. The acrid smell rose from these remains and the area around them.
As you spread out, you realised this was not just a dragon. It had been muzzled and saddled. These were the remains of a dragon rider.