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Chapter 25: Tooth and Claw

Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Seventeen. 27th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia






With the next dawn, the adventurers set forth into a primeval, savage wilderness untamed by Man and his quaint notions of civilization.

By midday the necromantic stillness of the City of the Dead is long behind them.



The scale, the scope and the timelessness of the immense, uncaring landscape dwarf the ego.

Every new vista is a stark reminder of the true order of world, and their insignificant place within it.


Actions? (Marching order please. Feel free to cover anything you wanted to do over the last 30 hours.
Also, with the new day, please each remove another ration! Daily healing is accounted for, including Cruloc and Torix's first aid. And casters may memorize new spells and cast them. Thanks!)


Map:

The x is Fort Tuscelan. The question mark is the approximate location of the adventurers.





PC Status:
PC Magic:
Player Resources:

Other than keeping pace with the others, Kiri is relatively inactive as he steadily heals from his recent death experience. On the morning of the second day, however, he motions for Torix to hand him the otherworldly spear, whereupon he sits with it for a time, not so much examining it as holding it in a semi-meditative state.
After some time he hands it back and speaks a few words privately to Torix.
After a time, as they walk through the daunting landscape, the Mountain can be heard to be conversing, seemingly with himself, in muted but familiar tones. If anyone wonders, they are soon reassured that indeed, Grandfather has rejoined the group. Occasionally leaves and brush can be seen to move aside as the old man passes through them.

"The old man laughed at me when he heard I was in the afterworld. He says no one mentioned it to him, so they must not have thought it to be very important," he says. He seems amused by this, or at least to be pleased to see the old man again.

Amethu watches quietly as Kiri weaves sorcery to unlock the hidden secrets of the weapon. Once complete, he plies his own sorcery to continue to replenish the strength of those who aide him in his quest...

CLW on Kiri
Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=4
Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=8

CLW on Cruloc
Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=2
Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=4
Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=2

Cruloc

Cruloc is alert to the sounds and smells of the surrounding wilderness. Second in the marching order, he pads watchfully behind Torix, his gaze scouring the forest floor for signs of snares, pitfalls and other potential Pictish cunning. Covering his chain mail shirt with his heavy cloak, he is careful to skirt clearings and avoid presenting a distinct silhouette against the sky.

"Give me the echoing roars of Cimmeria's beasts over the silence of Pictish marshes any day," he grumbles.

He is grateful to Amethu for his healing arts. "Your spells have brought relief where Crom offers none." He catches the octogenarian's elbow as he slips on a moss-covered stone, helping him regain his footing.

Torix is twice in the Kambujan's debt, for arrows and now sorcery. He accepts the ancient spear from Kiri and nods his thanks and respect.

He eats for the day, and his pouch of dried meat and berries is now completely empty. Bow in hand at the fore of the line of travelers, he moves lightly, scanning for game and likely places to find game. In sunlight grassy glades or at their borders. Along streams and creeks. And he watches for more dangerous inhabitants of the forests and their likely dens or places of ambush as well.

Dahinna

Walking through the wilderness, the rogue finds herself in awe of the size of it all. Used to life in a city with narrow streets and buildings full of every scrap of human wastefulness, Dahinna gapes and gawks at the sights and sounds of the Pictish wilderness.
"Zahra, I wish you could see this," she says aloud, touching the piece of jewelry on her arm. Finishing up her last pack of rations, she savors every crumb and then hopes they can find food out here.
"Does anyone know how to...erm...forage for food? What to eat and what not to eat?"

Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Seventeen, Mid-afternoon. 27th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia




Kiri Khutan summons otherworldly magic of the East...




...and divines that Torix's new spear is a fearsome weapon imbued with powerful sorcery of ancient Atlantis!




The Kambujan mystic warrior touches his amulet and converses with the spirit of his ancestor as the adventurers journey deeper into the mysterious heart of Pictland.

With Zahra's death, Amethu is the last surviving Verulian in the company. The masked sorcerer-priest once more heals those who aid him in his quest to find the true lineage of the Pharaohs of the Great Pyramid.



(+12 hp to Kiri. +8hp to Cruloc)

At home in the wilds, Cruloc is careful to camouflage himself as they walk single file.

City-born Dahinna asks, "Does anyone know how to...erm...forage for food? What to eat and what not to eat?"

Ahead of them, Torix's keen eyes survey their warm, sunlit surroundings as they come upon a clearing. He spies signs of game: deer spoor, and boar rooting that has churned up the rich virgin soil.

The savage Pict's fingers touch grass stained with dried blood where Raven clan hunters dressed a kill some days ago.

At a distance he beholds a thin valley that darts between green ridges. Fresh water will be found there.

And further north, in the adventurer's path, sprawls a shadowy marshland.


Actions?





PC Status:
PC Magic:
Player Resources:

Cruloc

"Whether in a primeval forest or the alleys of Shadizar, comfort awaits in the narrow vales," remarks the Cimmerian to no one in particular.

With a low whistle, he summons the others to gather round. "Caution must be foremost in our minds. Torix, who made this kill? Will they treat our ragtag band any differently? If no, my counsel is that we fill our waterskins and trek some distance back toward the Lost City to a middle-ground where game abounds but throat-slitting Pictish tribes do not. We may rest there, and once your strength fully returns, you may continue alone to contact and do business with your brethren of a less homicidal bent."

Cruloc smiles at the irony. A Pict without murder in his heart is as unthinkable as a Zingaran trollop who lacks a moustache.

Amethu echoes caution. "Indeed, let us not stray to far afield from the ancient city. Our quest lies there. Can we not find sustenance close by so that we can quickly return to our goal?"

Kiri thanks Amethu for the healing. “It’s a good thing we ran into you, or we’d all be dead by now. Maybe more than once,” he says.

It occurs to him that without the hunters in the party, the same would likely be true. How is it he’d never learned to sustain himself in the wild? Too distracted by the allures of magic, he supposed. He thanked Grandfather for that, for good or ill.

He regards the discussion about the specifics of travel and holds his tongue. As long as they found food somewhere he didn’t much care where they went.

Dahinna

The rogue listens as the more experienced warriors talk, meaning, as Cruloc talks. The Cimmerian always has something to say. Bet he was a lot of fun at a revel. Thinking this may be a good time to empty her bladder, she sneaks off a few feet and squats behind a tree.

Cruloc

"Crom's barren bookshelf!" exclaims Cruloc, directing his ire at the Verulian. "Your race may enjoy greater fecundity if your kind spent more time researching the benefits of foreplay. The city tickled us with its harpies, inviting us to gambol, but it was the scholars among us who chose to go straight for the honeypot instead of first exploring her extremities. As a result, our hand has been slapped away and we are brought to our current, unsatisfied condition."

"To penetrate further, we need nourishment and light. What Torix has proposed will forward your quest, albeit not as swiftly as you may desire. If we do not adequately prepare, we shall become permanent additions among the dusty tomes you covet."

Amethu stares quietly at Cruloc as he foolishly rages against his common sense and divine mission for history and knowledge. He makes no outward sign of his contempt at all. He realizes that he needs the likes of this brave barbarian to see him through.

His thoughts do stray to his spell books then and his studies for the day. While pondering these mysteries, he reviews his spells and a particular useful favorite ‘enlarge’. His notes scrawled in the margins of the page remind him of the spells reverse - ‘reduce’. Also equally useful at times. In fact, with a bit of impatience bubbling up, he ponders the notion of shrinking Crulocs manhood - maybe to match the size of his impetuous brain….

He sighs and shakes off such thoughts and recommits himself to his studies. Mostly.

Torix hands his flint-headed Pictish spear to Cruloc. Good against charging boars or enemies.. Replying to the Cimmerian, he says, The Pict Raven clan did that. They hunting far south for Raven. Yes, they will do the same to you if they find you. Sacrifice you to beast god Jhebbal Sag or tricky god Jhil the Raven.

To the others, he says, No food here. Beasts stay away from the Death God's city. If we don't eat, we die. I will go to the little valley, track beasts, and try to bring back food. Maybe I track Raven Picts and buy arrows and food from them. I find food, I will bring it back and we eat. Then we decide if I will go to the Raven village to buy arrows and other good things.

He's anxious to test the Atlantean spear, but a bow is better for hunting. He slides the ancient spear's long shaft under the strap of his shoulder pouch and his belt. If I don't come back in one day, I'm dead. Then Cimmerian Cruloc have to hunt for food, in Picts' land. He lopes off toward the little greenvalley, bow in hand.

Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Seventeen, Mid-afternoon. 27th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







Torix, their guide in the strange savage wilderness of Pictland, will leave them now to hunt and trade until tomorrow.

Bow in hand, he lopes alone beneath the midafternoon sun, toward the jagged green valley below.


Actions?! (I know Torix's plan. Everyone else, please post your intended actions for the next 24 hours. Thanks!)


Map:

The x is Fort Tuscelan. The question mark is the approximate location of the adventurers.





PC Status:
PC Magic:
Player Resources:

Dahinna

"Will someone forage with me? I'm guessing there are mushrooms and perhaps even fruit and nuts around and about. But, this is unfamiliar territory and I don't want to go alone."

Dahinna's plan is to rest, forage, and expend as little energy as possible until Torix returns with food.

Cruloc

Cruloc examines the spear's head before nodding in appreciation to the Pict before he departs. "Go with the fury of the thunder and the silence of the night."

He agrees to accompany Dahinna, for he wishes to replenish his stock of medicinal herbs.

"Let us not range far," he cautions the thief. "We must all remain within earshot."

Cruloc

Drawing upon his hard upbringing and battle-honed instinct for survival, Cruloc makes plans to keep hidden and, failing that, to fight from an advantageous position. They bivouac at a place with only one obvious approach, with sight lines which enable them to see all who threaten. "No fires," he cautions. The branches he cuts down serve a dual purpose: sweeping away traces of their passing and obscuring their campsite. During his watch both at night and in the daylight hours, so that any wishing to catch them unawares may in turn be surprised by cold steel at their neck, he remains concealed, as indifferent to the insects that sting him as is Crom to the pleas and prayers of mortals.

"Hrukhun tormun sal hovn" - The silent watcher sees the sunrise - he whispers in the course Cimmerian tongue.

When he is not gathering herbs or making their camp safe, he passes the time quietly whittling wood to be used as arrows and torches

Dahinna

After foraging a bit with Cruloc, the Zamoran rogue returns to camp and takes a nap, trying to ignore her empty stomach.
Afterwards, she inspects her gear, sharpens her blades, and wonders if the Cimmerian can somehow craft her some more darts to replace the ones lost in the city of death.

Amethu takes his watch when necessary, and leaves the hunting and gathering to those better suited. He spends his time studying his spell book and praying to his ancient gods for guidance and wisdom. He will cast additional healing spells upon the wounded to return everyone to full strength. He will prefer to refresh all spells before returning to the unholy chasm of death.