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solivar · 7 years

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WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

aka the one where Hanzo Shimada is an expatriate art student, Jesse McCree is an NPS ranger, both are more than they seem, weird stuff is going down in the New Mexican desert, and their lives collide in the middle of it.

Now with 100% more teenaged Jesse McCree, genius polymath.

The sky simply did not look right -- had not, in fact, looked right since that morning, when the sun rose red above the eastern hills, hanging there like a baleful crimson eye glaring doom at the desert and everything living in it. The cloudwrack overhead swallowed it up shortly thereafter, vast, dark lenticulars piled miles into the sky and as far as the eye could see, curling around themselves like some massive, living thing looking for a place to set down its feet. When they parted enough to permit a glimpse of anything but themselves, the arch of heaven was the dangerously pale and sickly yellow that, in summer, was a precursor for heavy weather, hail and flooding rain, lightning and damaging winds, sometimes tornadoes. Now, at the tail end of October, almost November, that color sky and the savage, stifling heat the pressed down on the world beneath those clouds was unseasonal at best, unnatural at worst.

Nathaniel McCree, returning from battening down the animal enclosures, wished quietly that the storm, whatever kind it might be, would break. The waiting was always the worst part and this kind of waiting was particularly bad: every nerve alive and twitching, every sense physical and numinous straining to perceive something, anything. It put him far out of sorts.

A low rumble of thunder riding a hot gust of wind, the first to stir the ground level air since dawn, followed him up onto the ranch house��s back porch, set the wind-chimes hanging from the eaves to either side of the steps ringing with spirit-calling music. Also not a good sign: the chimes wouldn’t call in such a way if there was no need for them to do so. From inside, he heard a chair dragging across the kitchen floor and Yanaba came to the back screen door, stepped outside to join him. “Anything?”

“Nothing lurking around the barns, no.” A second gust, stronger than the first, rolled over them, strong enough to lift his wife’s heavy iron-and-pepper braid off her shoulder, and a louder, closer roll of thunder. “Readings settle down yet?”

“Not a bit.” She held the door open for him and he stepped inside, sliding the internal locks to keep the screen door in place but not yet closing the inner door.

The pieces of her rifle were still spread out across the kitchen table, along with her cleaning kit, a trio of 3D printers chugging away on the kitchen counters to produce her specialized ammunition. A fan of holoscreens, hanging just high enough not to be disrupted by her movements, displaying the current data provided by their web of sensor modules, a sphere of more than three hundred square miles of New Mexico, Arizona, and the multiple borders physical and more-than-physical they shared. The local telluric currents fluctuated violently across their surface, as unsettled as the ocean driven before a hurricane, the storm-surge passing through them and bleeding into the natural world in pulses that were slowly becoming more regular, more closely spaced together.

“Nothing’s opened up yet, but it’s only a matter of time now.” Yana remarked, evenly, as she slid the pieces of her weapon back together.

“So I see.” Nate fetched them both a cup of coffee and sat to help load her magazines once the rounds cooled and hardened enough to allow it, to watch the monitors and wait for whatever was coming to arrive.

When the storm finally broke, it did so with shocking speed and violence. The wind, gusting hotly against the shutters and the sides of the house, rose to a screaming sledgehammer as hot as the exhalations of a blast furnace, carrying with it sand and grit and something that might have been smoke and it took their combined strength to wrestle the inside door shut and bolt it in place against the force of it. Lightning, thus far not much in evidence despite the thunder, arced from cloud to cloud and fell in curtains rather than bolts, hanging suspended between earth and sky, visibly pulsing as they raked across the desert. Thunder literally shook the ground, rattled the windows in their casements and the bones in their bodies as they took cover under the kitchen table, the border wards embedded in the yard fence coming to life in an effort at blunting the storm’s ferocity. Wardfire danced with lightning and wind and the both broke around the house at least enough to keep the photovoltaic roof intact and feeding the power that let their monitors scream dire warning tones of imminent doom from overhead. Yanaba poked her head up and grabbed one.

“It’s close, whatever it is,” She muttered and reached up again, this time for her rifle.

“So I see.” The etheric patterns had coalesced from chaotic cross-sea waves into a single stable vortex that, even as they watched, imploded, sending a secondary shockwave rippling through the world beyond the world.

Outside, the storm itself visibly shuddered, the wind curling in on itself, voice dropping from a roar, the rotation of the clouds stuttering and slowing away from tornadic intensity. A torrential downpour followed, washing the dust and the heat and the taste of lightning out of the air, drumming on the roof and cutting fresh courses through the hard-packed dirt of the yard.

“You think something came through?” Yanaba asked, as she tossed him his ballistic vest and shrugged into her own.

“Only one way to be sure of that, darlin’,” Nate replied, and went to retrieve his medical kit.

The hoverjeep was, predictably, not having any of it so they loaded their gear into the back of the gas-drinker: emergency medical kit, detection and mitigation equipment, the larger of her several weapons, extra ammunition. Yanaba made him strap on his own freshly cleaned and loaded by her hands sidearm before she’d let him get in the vehicle and slid behind the wheel herself, because of the two of them her night vision was better and it was rapidly getting dark. The navigation system was at least not inclined to be pestiferous, interfacing smoothly with the house’s monitors and accepting the guidance data as they pulled out. “Last solid contact was about twenty miles north of here, in the hills near Nakaibito. We can take the 491 almost all the way there.”

The drive into the hills was entertainingly fraught, enlivened by heavy bands of rain lashing out of the entirely natural if unseasonable storms that followed hard on the northerly’s heels and broadside, straight-line winds nearly strong enough to blow them off the road. It grew even more so once they left the 491 for surface roads that hadn’t seen a lick of maintenance since hover technology took the lead in transportation and which were prone to being washed half-away by flash flooding and blocked by downed tree limbs and, ultimately, a pair of fallen trees that forced them to leave their vehicle a mile from their presumed destination and hike the rest of the way in.

Yanaba took point, as was her custom, her rifle slung for the moment in favor of a machete to cut through the leg-attacking ground cover and a hiking stick to brush aside things that didn’t need to be cut. Nate carried their handheld tracking and motion detection monitors, set to ignore their own movements, his own hiking stick that doubled as a heavy shock baton in a crunch, and a neatly organized pack of medical supplies. Even with the lightning arcing overhead, their lights and vision-enhancing gear, it was dark and the hike punishingly hard, the ground underfoot a sandy, boggy mire, the rain only barely starting to slack.

The motion detector sang its little rising-falling alarm tone. “Movement up ahead, ten yards. We’re almost there, darlin’ so --”

Underbrush rustled, far closer than ten yards away and with the passage of something much more solid than falling rain, and Yanaba traded her machete for a machine pistol, flipping on some extra light as she did so. Yellow-green eyes flickered in the darkness and a muzzle covered in wet silver-gray fur, a long, slender body vanishing among the junipers and ground cover in the blink of an eye.

“Whatever that was, it didn’t register on the motion detector but it did cause an etheric ripple.” Nate observed, mildly, and moved to his wife’s shoulder.

“So not actually a coyote, then.” The safety on her gun clicked firmly off. “Stay close.”

They set off in the direction the not-coyote had vanished, the sound of water roaring down a no-longer-dry arroyo rising loud enough to drown out the rain beating on the thirsty ground and the thunder still echoing among the canyons. Another sound joined it, as they came within a short stone’s throw of their destination: high and thin, a wordless wail of cold and tired and hungry.

Yanaba froze and he had to check his stride to avoid walking into her. “You heard that, right?”

“Yes, I did. Came from over thataway.” He showed her the motion detector, where a single pulsing contact glittered like a star they were probably going to have to shoot.

They proceeded carefully, Nate automatically moving to flanking position, Yanaba snapping her tactical visor into place to aid targeting in the somewhat less than optimal firing conditions. A second cry rose, closer, and it was by virtue of his place behind and off to the side that he saw its source before she did -- a huddled bundle on the edge of the arroyo, inches from the rushing water gnawing steadily away at the muddy bank. “Darlin’, it’s over here.”

The bundle shivered slightly, and he turned a targeting beam directly on it: a ratty towel, either dark to begin with or darkened with blood and mud and wet, wrapped around something small, moving weakly. A third cry, even thinner and more tired than the first too, rose from up, along with an audible gurgle and cough. Nate crossed to it and knelt, lifted the edge of the towel and dropped it back, hurriedly pulling down his own visor and activating its physical and psychic defense structures; they helped wash the afterimages of what he just saw out of his brain before they could take hold. “Leave your visor on, defense mode active. It’s...I’m not sure what it is, but it’s tiny.”

“Nate, what are you --” Yanaba came through the brush at his back and froze as he opened the towel completely, exposing the thing it was wrapped around to merciless light and enhanced vision gear.

“It’s a baby.” Nate finally managed, after a moment of stunned silence. “Umbilicus is still attached -- still some blood in it, even. Fresh out of the wrapper. How the --”

“Nathaniel McCree, step away from that thing now.” Yanaba’s voice was low and tight.

He shrugged out of his backpack. “Just a minute, darlin’. Gotta find something to wrap --”

“Nate.” Her voice somehow managed to tighten another notch. “Get back.”

He glanced over his shoulder and found the muzzle of her rifle leveled with the bundle, her mouth an expressionless line beneath her visor. “Yanaba -- it’s a baby.” He checked again. “He’s a baby. Can’t be more than a few hours old. Whatever happened -- however he came to be here -- he didn’t do it himself. He’s not the threat here.”

“That is an infant naayéé, Nate. It’s only innocent now, because it can’t bite you in half yet.” The tightness was giving way to exasperation. “Step away. I promise I won’t let it suffer.”

“He. Not it. He.” Very deliberately he opened his pack and very deliberately removed an emergency support bubble which he very deliberately inflated and began running the internal readiness diagnostics and very deliberately removed the little bundle of squirm and too many limbs and a head that wasn’t shaped quite right from his ratty old towel and placed him in said bubble, which immediately began scanning to determine his medical intervention needs. “And he’s human enough that I’m getting readings here and indicators that he’s suffering from exposure and dehydration and borderline hypothermia. So it’s possible that he’s been out here since he was born.”

“The mother probably abandoned it when she saw what it was.” Yanaba said, after a long, uncomfortably silent moment broken only by the emergency support bubble’s assorted diagnostic tones. She lowered her weapon and flipped on the safety. “It’s a monster, Nate.”

“A baby monster.” He looked up from the diagnostic panel. “You see any tracks coming in?”

Yanaba snorted. “In this mess? Fuck no, are you kidding?”

“Not even coyote tracks.” Nate replied, and initiated the processes that would provide hydration and nutrients and bring the little bundle of squirm back to a safe and healthy core body temperature.

Yanaba was silent for a moment. Then, ungrudgingly, “It did lead us here. Not that that doesn’t mean that someone or something isn’t elaborately fucking with us.”

“Point.” He tucked the towel into a biohazard bag and vacuum sealed it. “That’s something we can figure out once we get back to civilization, don’t you think?” He tried it and, to his surprise, the bubble’s internal antigrav units were willing to work; it lifted off the ground to easy physical guidance range.

“Nate…” She sighed. “Don’t get attached. All I ask. Please.”

“I’ll try, darlin’.” He reached out for her hand, and she gave it to him. “I think we should call him Jesse. He looks like a Jesse.”

He was pretty glad her other hand was too full of rifle to hit him.

Hanzo attempted to arrange is face into an expression that wasn’t unadulterated horror and felt himself failing completely. “You -- your parents --”

“Yeah.” The ranger’s smile was small and sad and the pain behind it lodged in Hanzo’s throat; he found himself unable to swallow or speak past it. “My mother, at least, and I can’t really say I blame her -- I’ve seen the pictures of what I looked like back then. Screamin’ and runnin’ is probably the least of what I’d do.”

“That...that is not funny, Jesse.” Hanzo’s voice sounded strangled in his own ears.

“C’mon now, darlin’ -- it’s a little funny.” Another small, sad smile.

“No.” He wished, at that moment, that he had more limbs of his own to hold him with. “What happened -- well, I know what happened, your grandmother must have --”

“Nana McCree was pretty hardcore, I’ll admit. Came from a long and illustrious line of monster-hunters on her mama’s side of the family and, bein’ the only daughter of her parents, took the responsibilities pretty seriously. She and Pop Pop tried to have kids of their own, but it never took, so she ended up training two of her nieces to continue the family business. We...don’t really get along that well.” The smile vanished so completely it was like it had never been. “By the time they found me, Nana was past child-bearing -- past sixty, both of them, even though they were pretty spry and still doing the work of helping patrol and protect their chunk of the desert around where they lived. They owned a little ranch outside Gallup, which is a ways to the west of here, near the Arizona border. But, no matter how spry they were, nobody was going to believe Nana gave birth to me, so grandparents it was. They also knew pretty quick that they were going to need some help, so they called a couple old friends before the week was out…”

Gabe and Jack arrived under cover of darkness within a couple days of the call, rolling in on a moonless midnight driving a vehicle with all its transponder signals carefully spoofed and using a pair of their more load-bearing alternate identities to travel under. Nate appreciated both the speed and the discretion, if not being woken up by Gabriel ghosting through a crack in the defenses and poking him in the ribs barely an hour after he laid his head on the pillow.

“Boo.” Gabe had more eyes open than should be allowed by law and was wearing his widest, fangiest grin, which was a version of him only his husband really enjoyed waking up to. “How’s it hanging, old man? Jack and I understand that you’ve got gremlin issues.”

“You made good time.” Nate glanced over his shoulder at Yanaba, sleeping undisturbed, and decided to leave it that way -- it was technically his duty rotation, after all. “Where’s your man?”

“Waiting out on the porch with our gear.” Gabe stepped back and Nate rolled out of bed, slipping into his robe and slippers and padding downstairs to open the door.

As promised, Jack was waiting surrounded by duffle bags and equipment cases, his visor and implants engaged to give him a reasonable approximation of vision, back to the door and gazing out over the yard and the surrounding outbuildings. He turned as the door opened, and grinned that tight-lipped grin of his, and let himself be pulled into an embrace. “Good to see you, too, Nate. Gimme a hand with this?”

“Surely.” They schlepped all the gear into a corner of the sitting room, got them settled there for the nonce, and Nate fetched coffee for himself and Jack, who appeared to need it at least as much as he did. “Thank you for coming -- I know it was short notice but Yana and I could really use an extra couple hands and brains right now.”

“We got that impression from all the screaming, yeah.” Gabriel replied, and waved off an offer of something stronger.

Jack drank deeply and then set his cup aside. “So...what happened?”

Nate took a deep breath and told them. They started exchanging speaking glances about halfway through his recitation and by the time he was done, Jack was regarding him with naked concern. “Why didn’t Yanaba just shoot it?”

“Nate wouldn’t let me.” Yanaba answered that question for herself, padding down the stairs in her own nightclothes and stepping into a hug from Gabriel. “I’m glad you’re here. Maybe you can figure out how to feed it.”

“It hasn’t eaten in a week?” Gabriel asked, a faint hint of alarm in his tone.

“He’s sleepin’ in a support bubble -- it’s keeping him hydrated and feedin’ him liquid nutrients but that’s not makin’ in him very happy.” Nate replied tiredly. “Mostly he’s like any other infant and spends most of his time sleepin’ and eatin’ and makin’ diapers but when he’s awake? Y’all will know it.”

It was almost on cue. From upstairs there came a high, thin, shivery wail, a sound that crossed a multitude of borders, and the wards built into the walls and foundation and the fence outside came to life in order to contain its force. Gabriel’s whole shape shimmered for a moment in response, swirling shadows and dark owl wings and too many eyes, before it stabilized back into something mostly human. He took the stairs two at a time as he went up and left the rest of them scrambling in his wake, a not uncommon occurence, and by the time they caught up he was leaning over the support bubble, hands pressed flat and spread across the plassteel hood, gazing down at its contents. The contents were kicking and flailing assorted limbs but not crying any more, which was a welcome thing after so many days.

“Be careful.” Yanaba said sharply as Gabriel reached down and unlocked the hood, sliding it back.

“Always am.” Gabriel cooed, the tone clearly meant for the bundle of squirm. “Hey, bebé, look at you. Look at all those toes -- that’s a lot of toes. So many toes. We’re going to have to do something about that but for now…?”

He reached down and picked the bundle of squirm -- whom Nate was trying very hard not to call Jesse in Yanaba’s hearing -- and cuddled him against his chest. There wasn’t a onesie on Earth meant to accommodate that shape, not even a sleep sack, but they’d managed to jury-rig an effective diaper and procured a soft lambswool blanket to wrap him in. He kicked a little against Gabe’s chest, and an appendage that was far too bonelessly flexible and weirdly jointed to be properly described as a hand wrapped itself around his fingers as he stroked the baby’s face gently and dragged them into his mouth.

“Wow, that’s a lot of teeth, too.” Gabe pressed a kiss to the baby’s approximation of a forehead. “A lot of teeth. What do you need so many sharp teeth for, bebé?”

“Traditionally, the naayéé consume human flesh and blood.” Yanaba deadpanned. “And from a fairly early age at that.”

“Well, that’s not going to work, now is it?” Gabriel nuzzled the little critter again and made no move to pull his fingers away from teeth that were, while tiny, multitudinous, needle-sharp, and entirely capable of reaching the bones of the unwary; Nate had spent some time with his hand under a biotic field emitter as testimony to that fact. “You don’t need to eat people, you know? There’s lots of other nice things to eat. You can have those teeth later if you need them but for now can we try something else, little one? Come on, I know you can do it. Let me see you --”

A fruity little giggle rose out of the bundle in Gabriel’s arms, a sound so perfectly sweet and pure and human that even Yanaba peeked in when he carried the bundle over to them. He still had too many limbs and that head with its enormous sealed-shut eyes and weird shape was still the sort of thing that would induce nightmares in the unprepared but now, instead of a mouthful of meat-eater teeth, it had rosy gums and drool and lips stretched into a wide, sweet smile.

“He’s probably going to need something more substantial than just formula.” Gabriel said, and let him have his fingers to gnaw on again.

“We’ve got goat milk that hasn’t become cheese yet.” Yanaba suggested, and looked astonished at herself.

“If you’ve got any fresh red meat to puree for enrichment, that might be a good idea, too. He’s pretty hungry.” Gabriel looked up, a little smile settled on his face. “What’re you calling him?”

“We’re not,” said Yanaba at the same moment Nate said, “Jesse.”

“Jesse. Jessito. Yeah, I can see that.” Gabriel cooed again and was rewarded with another sweet monster-baby giggle. “He even looks like a Jesse. Jack, I think we’re going to have to stay awhile.”

“Yeah, I saw that one coming.” Jack gave Yanaba a look comprised of equal parts resignation and amusement. “I think we’re outnumbered and outflanked here, Yana.”

“Obviously.” Yanaba sighed, and went downstairs to liquify a steak.

“Gabe was convinced from the start that at least one of my parents was human, because he got my teeth to go away that night just by askin’ nicely.” Jesse was steadfastly refusing to meet his eyes. “It took him the best part of three months to get me into a totally human shape and he’s been kinda smug about that ever since because the smart money said it wasn’t possible at all. Most of the old-time naayéé weren’t real human-lookin’ no matter who their mothers were, with a few exceptions, and they were...really pretty special exceptions. But Gabe’s nothin’ if not stubborn and he wasn’t willing to give up on the point, because it probably would have become a matter of life and death eventually.”

“Your grandmother,” Hanzo said, his mouth dry, the question not quite willing to form on his tongue. “She wouldn’t have...”

“Nana? Nah. For all her telling Pop Pop not to get attached, she took hold pretty hard herself. Used to say that I grew on her like saddle mold.” An amused little snort. “The rest of the local family wasn’t so keen, particularly when it became clear I was human on the outside only and that was pretty early.”

“That isn’t true.” Hanzo said, and silently willed him to meet his eyes, a signal he clearly did not receive.

“True enough for government work.” Dryly. “It became clear because I killed things without even trying hard. Or meaning to.”

Hanzo opened his mouth and closed it again without any of the possible sounds trying to crowd their way up his throat making it past his lips. Jesse, mercifully, didn’t notice.

“It was little things at first -- bugs, mostly. Scorpions are pests, y’know, and finding them all shriveled up just meant they could be swept out instead of squished. Spiders. I hated spiders when I was little. I think I might’a had a bit of a complex about things with too many legs. I’d just...look at ‘em hard and they’d keel over. I was too little to make the logical connection and it happened too fast for anyone else to see it for the longest time.” His eyes dropped closed. “One day when I was five, almost ready to go to school, one of the goats I was playin’ King of the Hill with butted me off the side of a rock with a bit more enthusiasm than usual and...it hurt. Skinned knee, bloodied lip, I was scared and mad and it came pourin’ out of me and before I could stop it everything for a hundred feet around me just...died. Everything -- the goats, the plants in the field, birds fell out of the sky. Gabe came running when he heard me screaming and caught it with both barrels -- he’s not particularly killable but I still hurt him badly enough that it took him the best part of two days to reform. Nana tranqed me from range and they bound me up in wards until they could figure out what it was and how to control it.” A tiny, humorless smile. “That was mostly Jack and Nana -- control and precision were the gifts they gave me.”

“You were so young -- you must have been so frightened.” At five, he had been aware of the interest Uncle Toshiro had in him, but was still too young to fully appreciate what it meant beyond the specialness of it.

“More scared that I was going to hurt someone else.” His voice was rough and when he opened his eyes there was a hint of moisture around their rims that had not been there before. “I told Nana and Pop Pop I didn’t want to go to school and they agreed that it was probably a good idea for me to stay away from other kids until I was old enough to keep my emotions under control.” A pause. “Y’know, this is the furthest I’ve ever gotten with this conversation? Normally by the time I get to the whole baby monster cured by my terrifying smoke Dad bit, it’s all over.”

Which confirmed at least one suspicion. Hanzo’s heart ached and he said, quietly, “We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to -- I can see how much this pains you.”

“It’s almost a good kinda hurt, darlin’.” One of the ranger’s hands found his and squeezed tightly. “Of course, the rest of the family found out. And there was a blow-up between Nana and the eldest of her nieces, Maritza, who lived on the Rez and was one of the local hunter-protectors. A bunch of hard words were said and they never did reconcile, which was a problem in the long run.” Finally, finally, those dark eyes turned to him. “Gabe and Jack stayed with us until I was ten, which was longer than they’d stayed in any one place for years, and probably about two years longer than was technically safe for any of us.”

“How did they know each other? Your grandparents and Gabe and Jack?” The question came out before he could stop it.

“They served together in an international unit under the auspices of the United Nations. Ana and Rein and a handful of others, too. Technically it was an all-volunteer outfit, it’s just that all the volunteers had particularly refined and unusual skill sets that allowed them to meet the parameters of their mission -- which was, actually, keepin’ things from Beyond out of this world or, if they managed to wiggle their way in, evictin’ them again with extreme prejudice.” Again, the smile that crossed his face had little in the way of humor in it. “Gabe and Jack got into their current condition in the line of duty and, while it took a long time, the DoD finally got around to acknowledging that fact, which is why they get to stay here unmolested now. For a while that wasn’t true, and they had to keep movin’ in order to stay ahead of the people assigned to determine exactly how hard to kill they really were. Lingerin’ as long as they did, even in the geographical ass-end of nowhere, was a huge risk for them t’take and I’ve never --” He stopped, swallowed hard, continued on. “I’ve never quite felt that I deserved it. Gabe hates that, but it’s true.”

Two days after his tenth birthday, Jesse sat on top of the ranch house roof and watched the men he called Papi and Jack drive away -- waited, point in fact, until there was nothing left to see of their vehicle, even with the running lights on, and there was no real reason left to stay. When he climbed back down, he dug out the wards that they made for him and which he hadn’t needed at all for going on two years and put them back on. Nate was proud of the maturity and self-knowledge that took, and also worried enough that, when he went into town for the next few weeks, he made sure there were enough chores available to keep Jesse busy. Fortunately, none of the MiBs who’d been sniffing around came to the ranch while he wasn’t home and, a few weeks later, they faded away entirely, chasing other leads.

When Jesse turned eleven, he also started to grow. He’d always been on the lean and lanky side, all knees and elbows and feet just big enough to trip over if he wasn’t being careful, but now, seemingly overnight, he shot up ten inches and outgrew almost all his clothes, his shoes, and his bed. He took a positively unholy joy in being taller than Yanaba for the first time ever, a fact about which she grumbled and smiled about, because it was something that made him demonstrably happy, a thing he’d had in short supply for quite some time. The spring between eleven and twelve, he decided he’d like to try going to school in town again and so they enrolled him and requested that his records be transferred over from the online academy where he’d studied his academics thus far.

By twelve, he was starting to fill out in across the shoulders and chest, a good two inches taller than Nate, and more alone than he’d ever been, for all that he was now going into town every day and spending most of it with kids his own age. Maritza’s children lived in there with her ex and they had been warned, in general terms, not to mix with their not-cousin because he wasn’t right -- a warning they helpfully shared with the peers they’d known all their lives, and the precise dimensions of the not-right-ness grew in the telling as it passed among them. Jesse put his head down and held his tongue and put the wards back on and concentrated on his studies: he was the sort of student every teacher loved, the kind that didn’t have to be nagged to do the reading or turn in his homework on time, and while he was never going to love math for its own sake, he at least tolerated it for its relationship to science (which he enjoyed) and music (which he was good at and enjoyed). The librarian was his best friend that year, feeding his appetite for books, for worlds he could escape into that were at least different than the one he presently occupied, and he made her a lovely thank you card that he handed back with the last of them at the end of the year. After that, he saw no reason to return, not so dedicated to the idea of having friends that he was willing to suffer the slings and arrows of adolescent cruelty to search them out. Loneliness was a grief he was used to, after all, and he could learn just as well at his terminal in the study.

In the winter between thirteen and fourteen, Nate began to feel his age -- not that he hadn’t been feeling it before but those long, dark months were colder and wetter than most and his joints let him know about it at length. Jesse effortlessly picked up his slack, for which he was eternally grateful, rising early to tend the animals and put on the coffee, walking miles of fence to check and maintain the integrity of the physical and numinous barriers, moving his terminal into the living room so he could run errands in the house and do his schoolwork at the same time. Yanaba fussed over him to excess, which he tolerated to the best of his abilities, and so did the boy, which gave them time together on a daily basis that they used to improve his emergency medical skills, to work on the little handicrafts that they both favored when they were too tired to think, to read their way through each others’ lists of favorite novels. They were, in fact, halfway through Lonesome Dove, one of Nate’s all-time favorites, the afternoon he started to feel a touch dyspeptic and then a little nauseous, and then a lot tired. The last thing he saw, as the world started going light around him, was Jesse reaching for him, and the look on his face.

Nate’s will stipulated cremation, which was duly accomplished, and his ashes brought home in a ceramic urn glazed the deep blue of the night sky over the desert mixed with tiny flecks of silver. For the first month after, Jesse and Yanaba drifted around the ranch like ghosts themselves, doing what needed to be done mostly on autopilot, numb and gray with grief. Toward the middle of the second, they began bumping into each others’ edges again, became aware of one another, and came back together to do more than just function. Just you and me now became the fulcrum around which their lives turned and they made the effort to keep it that way, sitting together in front of the fireplace to do homework assignments and read novels, to watch a new old movie on the holotank, to do the 3D design work for Jesse’s own custom ammunition, built around his strengths and the nature of the power running in his veins. They both knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d be taking up Yanaba’s half of the household’s self-chosen duties, no matter how little Maritza liked it, because there were things abroad in the desert by night and day that would answer to no ordinary bullets.

Yanaba caught a cold at the tail end of spring that nagged her relentlessly all through the summer. It settled in to stay as summer faded into autumn, sapping her strength to the dregs, forcing her to spend more time abed in the mornings than she liked, and finally whole days abed, feverish and too weak to stand. She didn’t want him to call an ambulance, or to go to the hospital, didn’t want to leave him alone on the ranch, not because she didn’t trust him but because she feared what would happen to him if she did. Jesse tended to her with all the skill he’d been taught over the years but there was one thing he lacked: a true healer’s touch that could have chased what troubled her away when even the biotic emitters did nothing but help her hold ground. And that he did not have, and never would, because healing was not his gift. In late October, just after his fourteenth birthday, as his grandmother lay sleeping the feverish, restless sleep of an invalid, he did the one thing he had dreaded more than anything else and called Maritza, to beg for her help. She and her eldest sons, the not-cousins who’d been a year or two ahead of him in school, arrived four hours later and an ambulance from town shortly thereafter. Before she left, as they were loading her onto the litter, she took him by the hand and made him swear his vows to her and sealed the promise he gave with her own. Maritza went with the ambulance, in her own hoverjeep; the not-cousins stayed behind, and after dinner Jesse retreated to his room, ill at ease and not entirely sure why.

He woke, sometime in the dark hours after midnight, to the sound of voices drifting up from downstairs -- quiet but clearly audible, because if the house’s heating system did anything, it carried sound.

“Everything’s ready?” That was Maritza, low and soft and somehow more dangerous for it.

“Yeah.” The Eldest of the not-cousins. “Aunt Yanaba had a lot of the things we needed already in her kit. No real need to go searching for them.”

“That’s because she knew that this would need to be done eventually and prepared to do it.” Crisply, cool, and the calm certainty of it turned the blood to ice in his veins, chased the last traces of sleep from his mind. “What is it, Chase?”

“Mom...are you sure about this? I mean -- if this was what he wanted, if this was his fault, why’d he call for help? All he had to do was wait.” The Younger of the not-cousins, who’d be almost nice to him at dinner and offered to help with the dishes and clearly wanted to talk to him but got glared off by his big brother. “If he were...hurting people it’d be one thing but he’s --”

“Naayéé, Chase. A monster in human shape like that thing Yanaba called his father.” Her voice cooled and hardened and Jesse was already dressed and pulling on his hiking boots, dragging the bug-out bags that Gabe insisted he have packed and ready to go out of the back of his closet. “That’s all he is and all he can ever really be, no matter what he might look like -- if anything, they helped make him worse because now it’s hidden instead of written on his flesh like it should be. Do you want to wait for him to show it before something’s done about him?”

Silence. Jesse eased his window open, put the first bag on the back porch roof and reached for the second.

“No. No, but --”

“No buts. We can’t hesitate in this -- not the way Yanaba did. She died thinking this thing loved her --”

The sound of pain that came out of him was completely involuntary, choked off as quickly as he could, and it was already too late.

“What was that?”

“Not sure -- he’s been upstairs since just after dinner. Sleeping the last time I checked. You want me to…?”

“Yes. Chase, stay here.”

Footsteps on the stairs but Jesse was already sliding off the porch roof after his bags, whispering the charm that Gabe taught him that would call the shadows, make him physically indistinct, mask his trail from even the most determined prying magic or skilled tracking. He thought Chase caught a glimpse of him as he vaulted the yard fence but, if he did, he held his tongue and stayed where he was; it was a small enough thing to be grateful for but Jesse never forgot it and repaid it as best he was able when circumstances allowed. That night, however, he thought of nothing but the best route to take across the desert and into the hills, as far from what remained of his not-really-family as he could before the sun rose.

#WIP Ghost Stories On Route 66 #I'll fix the italics later

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darkelfshadow · 7 years

Text

Session Summary - 33

AKA “The Gladiator Games”

Adventures in Taggeriell

Session 33 (Date: 21st October 2017)

Players Present:

- Rob (Known as “Oloma”) Human Female.

- Bob (Known as “Sir Krondor”) Dwarf Male.

- Travis (Known as “Trenchant”) Human Male.

- Sean (Known as “Seanicus”) Elf Male.

- Paul (Known as “Labarett”) Elf Male.

Absent Players

- Phil (Known as “Nac”) Half-elf Male. <Played by Rob>

- Arthur (Known as “Gim”) Dwarf Male. <Played by Bob>

NPC

- (Known as “Naillae”) Elf Female. <Controlled by DM>

Summary

- Toilday, 9th of Kuthona in the year 814 (Second Era). Winter.

- The party begin this session, in the Throne Room of the Ruins of Reckoning.

- There is much treasure to sort out and deal with. For the next hour, the party take out all the coins and fill them into sacks which they then use the Bag Of Sharing to transport them over to Valthrun in his Wizard tower in Winterhaven. Trenchant puts on the Elven chain shirt and removes his master work studded leather armour, sending that over to Valthrun too. The three potions are identified by Seanicus and they are a Potion of Heroism, a Potion of Clairvoyance and a Potion of Hill Giant Strength (Strength 21). The various art objects, the masks, pendant and handkerchief, are kept by Oloma for safe keeping.

- Sir Krondor spends a great deal of time searching and going over the dais in the centre of the Throne Room, as he is sure there must be another way out of here, before standing up and proclaiming that there definitely is no hidden buttons or secret panels on there.

- Oloma, who had previously walked off for a short time, comes back then just as Sir Krondor is about to insist that all the walls get searched for secret doors again, and she says, “I’ve just been to look at the black entry door. It’s open. We can leave when ever we like.”

- Once the party gather all the gear they leave the dark ruins. The sunlight from outside, even though it is a cloudy overcast day, is enough to blind them for a few seconds. Blinking they leave the ruins and walk along the long paved plateau lined with black pillars on either side. The black stone pavers are wet, it looks like it has been raining.

- As they reach the the far side of the plateau the air before the small engraved pillar begins to shimmer and take form. The party ready their weapons as a figure takes solid form. Neither male nor female, neither young nor old, faceless yet resembling all faces at once, familiar yet unknown. The figure wears a simple green robe with a star stitched in golden thread across the chest.

- A voice, ageless and without definition, speaks: “Well done. You have done that which no one else has done for a thousand years. All who came before you failed. Take your gifts, the gifts that my followers and acolytes left here so long ago, and use them wisely. And now, let me give you one last gift, from me personally, I give you a warning. You go now to see the Wizard whom sent you here. Be warned, the Wizard wears two faces and has two names. The powder that you hold in your hands, within the golden vessel, is not what he seeks though it will take him some time to discover this. The remains of my beloved Gweyer, who showed me there is more to existence than self desires and wants, are not here and never were. She remains in peaceful repose at a proper and fitting place for one who showed me the path to redemption. It may not be in your best interests to be close to the Wizard when he learns of the true nature of the powder and nor would I reveal this to him, else you will face the burden of his wrath. I would wish you luck but I can see you already have more than luck on your side, I can see you influence of the others behind you.”

- The figure turns to look into the forest as if looking at something and nods.

- The voice continues, “And now this place is no longer needed and I shall allow the time that has been held back to return.”

- The rocks start to break and fall down behind the party with a loud crash, as the mountain face collapses blocking the entrance into the ruins. Dust and debris shoot up into the air. The black pillars start to crack and break, some of them falling over. The black paved stones underfoot begin to crack and split and the stone steps before the party brake away in places.

- Loud bangs and crashes echo around the forest. After a moment the sound and dust fades mostly away. The faceless figure is still floating in the air.

- Oloma holds out the pendant with the picture of Gweyer on it, “Here take this. This means more to you than us.”

- The face without details smiles, “Thank you but I do not need that. Take those and do as you will with them,” and the voice and figure fade away. The air shimmers momentarily and then all is still except for some drifting dust carried on the wind.

- Seanicus examines the powder within the golden vessel and declares that it is not magical. It appears to be ash. Nac The Death Cleric looks over it and says that it does indeed look like the burnt ash remains of an adult size human.

- The party then discuss the powder and what the warning means. Sir Krondor is convinced that Yonochen will immediately know the powder is fake and as such they must force him to send them through the mirror before they hand over the powder. There are many theories and ideas put forward about who or what Yonochen might be: a Necromancer, maybe he is both Yonochen and Manzoor, and many other suggestions.

- The discussion is lively and no one notices that Nac and Oloma have walked down the broken stairs and away. Twenty minutes later they return to the sound of the party still debating what to do.

- Nac speaks, “Well, unless you wish to stay here and watch the slow regrowth of the forest to reclaim these ruins, I suggest we go. We checked on our horses and they’re still tied up where we left them.”

- The party leave the plateau and walk along the now cracked and broken black stone path to eventually find the cliff face again. Looking down, their horses are indeed still there. Using the climbing poles that are sticking out of the cliff face, the party slowly and carefully climb down.

- Mounting back onto their horses, Seanicus is forced to ride on a horse with Naillae, as they are now one horse short and Naillae is small enough that they can both ride the horse together.

- The party ride through the broken black pathway until it ends and they are forced to dismount and walk their horses through the thick forest. For the first hour the trees and bush are so dense that they have to weave in and out, leading their horses. Occasionally a light rain falls around the party.

- During this time Oloma sees a flash of gold off to her side and turns her head to see a fleeting glimpse of a magnificent golden stag (Successful Perception check). Its regal form moves behind a tree and vanishes. Though she only saw the creature for the briefest second, the hairs on the back of Oloma’s neck raise, and her breath is taken away.

- Oloma starts to move off quickly towards the spot, about 60’ away, where she saw the noble beast.

- Trenchant turns towards the fleeing Oloma and yells, “Problem?”

- Without slowing down or turning back Oloma quickly replies, “Have to relive myself, give me a moment.”

- Immediately all the men in the party turn away from the direction of Oloma, as if a silent general had barked an order to about face, and start to obviously and awkwardly adjust equipment and gear, to make sure they don’t accidentally look in the direction of the female Mystic. Naillae laughs, “Oh for petty sake! We’ve been travelling together for ages but every time there’s the slightest risk of seeing a woman’s ass and you all turn into adolescent boys!”

- After a few minutes, Naillae wanders over towards Oloma, “Hey, Oloma! You look like you’re searching for something?”

- Oloma explains that she thought she saw a golden stag whilst she was over here and the party move over to the spot and begin to search the wet ground for tracks but no one can find any.

- Sir Krondor speaks, “What do you think it means?”

- Trenchant replies, “Well the figure that appeared back at the ruins mentioned something about us being influenced by the others and then he figured looked into forest.”

- Seanicus adds, “Remember the hunters that I tried to save from the Grungs? They said they were following a golden stag that lead them to that exact spot. And that made me find them and in turn that made you find me. Is this all connected?”

- Oloma speaks, “Golden stags are often messengers of powerful beings. Omens of great portent.”

- “Yes,” Labarett adds, “but for good or evil? That is the question.”

- The party continue and eventually the forest becomes sparser and they are able to mount up and ride through the trees. Thanks to Labarett guiding them they cover the distance in half the time (Barbarian ability).

- Riding through the sparse trees for roughly another hour the party finally come to the each of the Changrove Forest and come out into the grassy plains. Pressing onwards they come to the main road and following that. The sky is still cloudy and threatens to rain but holds off. An hour later the party come into view of Lington. The city walls loom before them and they approach the east main gate which is shut and guarded by half a dozen Red Guard soldiers.

- After Trenchant and Sir Krondor demand entry, as the party are Wardens, they are allowed into the city without delay or search.

- All the party decide to go see Valder at the Royal Library, except for Oloma who says she has some shopping and business to conduct and Naillae who advises that she will leave for a short time to check in with the Lington’s Thief’s Guild. The party arrange to meet up at The Eldritch Arch, where Yonochen resides.

- Sir Krondor, Nac, Trenchant, Labarett, Gim and Seanicus ride their horses towards the Palace Compound where the Royal Library is. Seanicus is obviously looking around at the city, his head turning this way and that.

- Trenchant speaks, “Never been in a large city before Seanicus?”

- “Yes, of course,” begins Seancius, “But the city I am from is very different than this.”

- The group arrives at the Palace and after securing the horses enter the grounds of Palace, as the guards at the main gate recognise the group.

- They enter the large, tall library and are greeted by the Head Librarian, Simimar the Elven Sage. Simimar summons Valder, the newly appointed Librarian Assistant, and the party reunite with the former travelling companion.

- After catching up with what the party has been up to, Valder tells the party what he has so far learnt from reading Dragons Of The Council. Valder speaks, “About two thousand years ago all the Red Wizards of Thay and the Cult Of The Dragon Queen formed together to bring about the coming of Tiamat into this world, when Nirvas The Seer foretold of the coming of an alignment of the slowly drifting stars across the heavens and the coming of a double red lunar eclipse known as the Wounds Of Pelor. This double blood moon marks the start of a period of 12 days in which it would be possible for Tiamat to leave her banishment in the Nine Hells, with the proper ritual. This alignment of the stars and the double blood moon eclipse occurs very infrequently.”

- Trenchant speaks, “Let me guess, about every two thousand years?”

- Valder nods, “Yes. I have calculated the next time this conjunction will occur. In two hundred and thirty seven days from now. We have less than a year.”

- Next the party ask if there are any books on Erevan Ilesere or about Gweyer. Simimar goes and collects a book on Elvish Gods and within the book there are a few pages devoted to Erevan Ilesre, the Elvish God of mischief, Rogues, changelings and Dopplegangers. The book goes on to tell the tale of the God. Originally Erevan used to be one of the lower tier Gods within the larger pantheon of the gods but during a short fought war of the Gods, in which originally Erevan had remained neutral, he eventually joined the war when one of his followers, Gweyer swayed the god with her words and deeds. Eventually Gweyer was killed during the war serving her god, in a mighty battle, when a massive magical explosion occurred. This explosion came about as the result of a small army of wizards trying to manipulate the forces of life and existence during the war. At the end of the war Erevan’s perspective and attitude had changed. He was on the winning side of the war and as such his status within the pantheon rose to a mid level god but in doing so he direction and focus changed. He now valued the power of self redemption and was more concerned with working with others rather than as an individual.

- Nac speaks, “That would make the Ruins make a little more sense now.”

- Trenchant asks Simimar about what he knows about Yonochen and the Head Librarian states he knows nothing about anyone called Yonochen.

- Sir Krondor exclaims, “What? How’s that possible? He and Manzoor defended Lington against the Cult Army and their Dragon. You must have heard of him!”

- Simimar replies calmly, “Really? I knew about Manzoor The Great and Powerful, after all he has told everyone in Lington he saved us, singlehandedly. We never hear the end of it really. I never heard about the other gentlemen. If he lives here in Lington he has have been keeping a low profile then for me not to have heard of him.”

- Trenchant speaks up, “This is weird. We heard talk around Lington before that it was really Yonochen that did all the work. It was his spells, apparently very powerful ones, that turned the Dragon away and Manzoor was really just there for show. Now Manzoor goes around taking all the credit and Yonochen is happy to stay in the shadows not drawing attention to himself. And now we get warned that Yonochen isn’t who he appears to be.”

- With no other options, the group give their farewells to Valder and prepare to head over to Yonochen’s premises. Valder promises to keep the party updated with what else he learns from the book Dragons Of The Council, as he has only read a small portion of it.

***

- During this time, Oloma had been around to various business and shops. Sometimes she would enquire if they needed the services of an alchemist supplier, and if so would leave one of the business cards of Felyur the Alchemist from Anwich, or else Oloma would do some shopping for gear and supplies. Having completed the last of her shopping at The Red Wand, the tower of Manzoor The Great, Oloma started to make her way over to Yonochen’s premises to regroup with the party.

***

- Naillae has also been busy. She heads over to the secret location of the Lington Thief’s Guild, making sure no one is following her. Once inside she updates the Guild that she and party will be heading to Earthcloak in the next day or so. After a short time conversing Naillae heads out again to make her way over to Yonochen’s premises.

***

- Just before midday, with the clouds over head and a light drizzle falling, the party once again all reunite back together outside the plain two story building of Yonochen and tie up their horses to a wooden railing near the building. As before all the windows are shuttered closed and the single door on the ground floor is closed. The very small brass plaque next to the door reads, in small writing that can only be read if someone leans in close, “The Eldritch Arch.”

- The party knock on the door and as before, a small wooden eye window, low down opens up, and the small eyes of the Halfling Wizard look out. His voice, with the strong accent of someone from the eastern lands of Tikoran, is angry, “Why you here! You should be getting my vessel! Go get it!”

- Oloma speaks, “We have the vessel Yonochen. Now open …” but before the Mystic can finish her sentence Yonochen slams shut the small window and then opens the door.

- The Halfling Wizard smiles at them broadly, his slanted eyes shinning with anticipation, “Excellent. Of course you have! Now, come in, quickly! Show me!” Yonochen is almost shaking with excitement to be getting his vessel.

- The party all enter and Yonochen, after looking around the street to see if anyone was watching, shuts the door with a loud bang.

- Seanicus walks into the back of Labarett, “Sorry. My goggles went black, I couldn’t see.” Seanicus then lefts up the goggles from his eyes, careful that his hood is still low enough that no one can see his eyes.

- Nac speaks, “This place has some type of anti-magic field, that effects everyone except Yonochen. Your goggles, or any of our enchanted gear, or any of our spells won’t work in here.”

- Sir Krondor immediately begins, “Now listen here Yonochen, we aren’t just going to hand over the vessel. You will send us through the mirror first and the last person through will give you the vessel.”

- Yonochen’s face goes red with anger, “You what!? No. No! You give me my vessel Knight or you will regret this!”

- Sir Krondor laughs, “I don’t think so Yonochen, we out number you. You will do as I say.”

- Yonochen’s eyes narrow, the hatred pouring through him is visible, “Really? Is that what you think?” There is a real edge of menace on the Wizard’s voice.

- Trenchant sees Yonochen pull out a blue crystal pendant from under his shirt and starts twirling it angrily, “Now Yonochen I’m sure we can sort this out like reasonable adults. There’s no need to resort to violence. Sir Krondor misspoke.”

- “I did not! I meant it!” bellows Sir Krondor.

- “I agree with Sir Krondor,” adds Seanicus, “I don’t trust this halfling more than I could throw him. How far do you think we could throw him Sir Krondor?”

- “Oh I think I could throw this pipsqueak very far indeed,” answers Sir Krondor with a smile.

- Yonochen’s fingers are getting tighter around the blue pendant.

- Quickly Trenchant speaks, “For the love of the gods, could you two shut up! Yonochen, please ignore them. Talk to me, we can ….”

- Just then Yonochen screams, “Where is the vessel!”

- Oloma calmly takes out the vessel from her backpack and says, “Here, I am sure we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement.”

- Yonochen looks at the vessel, and replies, speaking each work slowly and with menace, “We already had an arrangement. Give me the vessel now!”

- Trenchant nods, “Give it to him Oloma.”

- Sir Krondor yells, “Keep it Oloma! I don’t trust that small barstard!”

- Oloma keeps the vessel close to her chest, “Before I give you this vessel, there’s other business I would like to discuss. Also I would like to look over your wares and see …”

- “ENOUGH!” yells Yonochen and brakes the blue pendant with a snap. Immediately a wave of Eldritch energy blasts forth. In the four corners of the room appear four elementals, Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Each starts to take form and shape. At the same time, a blue energy envelopes around the whole party. It grows and becomes a solid film of ice and crackling force energy covering Sir Krondor, Labarett, Naillae, Nac, Oloma and Gim. Both Trenchant and Seanicus feel the effect fade away from them (Successful save throw).

- Yonochen reaches out towards the immobilised Oloma and takes the vessel out of her hands, “Idiots! Had you just given me the vessel, like we agreed, I would have rewarded you. It’s mine! IT’S MINE!” and Yonochen begins to cackle in laughter.

- Trenchant and Seanicus move away from the laughing Wizard.

- “Oh yes, you two. I am impressed, not many can resist the effects of that pendant. Still want to throw me now?”

- As Yonochen asks this the four elementals, towering up to the height of the ceiling of the room, stand waiting and ready.

- Seanicus shakes his head, “Not any more.”

- Trenchant asks, “What do you intend to do now Yonochen?”

- The small wizard laughs, “Oh exactly what I said I would. I shall honour the bargain. You all go through the mirror to Earthcloak. Now!”

- Yonochen walks up set of stairs, the captured party floating behind him, whilst Trenchant and Seanicus follow. Two of elementals, the fire and water ones, also follow behind the group.

- Yonochen leads them to a mirror that appears to be a simple plain dressing mirror that is about 5’ wide and 10’ high. Around the edge is a simple design of silver leaves. The Mirror Of Ailmer.

- When the Wizard touches it, a scene appears, of a large walled city, set in a deep forest valley that lies at the intersection of two rivers. A large lake and river cuts the city in half. The scene quickly zooms in to a large garden park in the city.

- Yonochen speaks, “Here. Earthcloak. Walk through.”

- Trenchant speaks, “How do we know you are actually sending us there?”

- “You don’t,” Yonochen replies and then bursts out in a loud laughter.

- With a flick of his wrist Yonochen sends the captured party to levitate through the mirror, each one disappears with flash as they touch the mirror. Lastly, with no other real choice, Trenchant and Seanicus step through the mirror.

- The party see whirling colours flashing past them. A deep cold envelopes them. A voice comes to them, the voice of Yonochen, that starts of loudly but fades of as he speaks, until the voice is gone, “Yes, brave heroes, go and save the world from Tiamat. Save my world. But do this knowing that you are mere pawns in my game, you and all the other ignorant fools! You do as I wish. Rid Tiamat so that I can rule this world as a God in her place!”

- As the party suddenly pop into existence, within a large garden park, the last thing they all hear fading out is the evil clacking of Yonochen.

***

- The sun over head indicates that it is still noon, as the sky above is mostly clear of cloud. A fierce wind blows in from the east, where on the horizon in the far distance white peaks of tall mountains are visible, and with it comes a bitter cold that sweeps over the party. The large park square the party are now in, which has a central temple and smaller shrines on each of the four corners of the park, has frost on the grass. The party are no longer held fast by Yonochen’s spell but there is a residue of frost still on Sir Krondor, Labarett, Naillae, Nac, Oloma and Gim and that along with the cold and wind is making things very uncomfortable for them.

- Nac, his teeth chattering, speaks, “I knew Yonochen was an evil, arrogant Wizard but what was that all about?”

- Trenchant speaks, “Team meeting. The next time we face an evil, maniacal wizard can we please try to not antagonise them?”

- Labarett the Barbarian, trying to pull his cloak around his bare chest, speaks, “We need to get out of this cold soon, dry off and put on our cold weather gear or we will freeze.”

- The party look around them. They are in a large heavily fortified city, much larger than Lington, and it appears that it is at the bottom of a steep valley. As such, they party can see both sides of the raising city around a large central lake filled with many boats and a river leading away. Three large forts, are spaced around the high city walls. Though the largest building visible is a massive stone stadium that dominates the city.

- “Does anyone actually know that we are in Earthcloak?” asks Naillae.

- Olomat speaks (Successful Intelligence History check), “I’ve read a bit about Earthcloak from my mother’s books. It is supposed to be cobbled, slate and tile roofed stone city that completely fills the valley at the junction of the Tufford and Ledale rivers in the Halfling kingdom of Singbury. Earthcloak is built around the Ledale river, with a large defended city wall surrounding it. It is the ship building centre for Taggriell, building boats for Tyriba, Asalea, Singbury, and Afrandul. Of course, the elves of Elanion build their own boats and the Dwarves of Fanur don’t use boats.”

- Gim speaks, “Too right, dam boats always sinking!”

- Oloma continues, “The city is supposed to rise above the man made harbour and raises so steeply in places, that a buildings can be different heights from inside to outside. Most the buildings are at least three stories and some go up to six stories. In winter ice makes many of the streets almost impassable except for those that love to risk falling and sliding. It has many streets of winding, steep stairs. And it is supposed to have a lot of boats coming and going as it is a major trade route and ships in many goods and attracts many visitors, especially sailors looking to be picked as crew on a newly commissioned boat. Earthcloak is known for it’s impressive gladiator games and for the unusual fact that the casting of spells and the sale of magic services and items is prohibited here.”

- Trenchant speaks, “Well, I guess we can assume we’re in Earthcloak. Let’s get out of the cold, dry off and sort out our cold weather gear.”

- Trenchant and Oloma ask one of the many pedestrians walking along the streets, most of which are Halflings or Dwarves but with some Gnomes, Tieflings, Dragonborn and Humans as well, that surround the large garden park and are directed to a nearby Inn, directly across the road from the park, called Rosee’s Warm Rest Inn. The Halfling male they speak to is very chatty and he speaks of news about Dragons fighting alongside men to the far west, which the Halfling does not believe, and also speaks about a witch that was caught trying to sell magic potions near the city and was arrested by Captain Jannon who is the Chief Constable of Earthcloak. The Halfling warns the visitors not to use magic in the city.

- Along the way to the Inn, the party pass by one of the small shrines in the park, and they see a symbol of a shield with a cornucopia motif on the front, which some in the party recognise as the symbol for the Halfing Goddess Yondalla who is the patron of Protection, Fertility, and Halfling Children.

- Just outside the Inn, on a sign, written in Halfling, Dwarvish and Common states:

“The Following is strictly prohibited and enforced:

* The casting of spells, either from book, item or self.

* The sale of Magic Services or Items.

By order of Lord Conlan.”

- Entering the Inn, which appears to be three level building, the party find themselves in a warm and cossy common area. Various Halfings and Dwarves sit around the Inn, drinking and talking, at various tables or at the long bar on one side. A large fireplace gives the room a pleasant warmth. Serving girls are moving around taking orders and delivering jugs of drink and behind the bar is a middle aged Halfling male of solid build. He has a warm smile and waves the party in, “Welcome to Rosee’s Inn. I’m Geneegin, what can I get you visitors?”

- The party take a table near by the fireplace so that can warm up and get the frost of them, whilst they break out their cold weather gear from their backpacks to put on. Seanicus informs the party he has no cold weather gear so will need to go shopping.

- Whilst waiting for one of the serving wenches takes orders from the party, Trenchant and Sir Krondor break out their instruments. Trenchant tunes his lute whilst Sir Krondor prepares his mothers flute. The pair then start to play a song together, as they have many times before, and on a hunch Trenchant sings a song of praise about the Goddess Yondalla. The song is well received and the crowd loves the performance (Successful Charisma Performance checks by both Trenchant and Sir Krondor). At the end of the song the crowd erupts into enthusiastic applause, throwing a sum of silver coins at the pair (26 silver coins in total).

- During the song, an attractive Halfling female comes out from a rear door and stands behind the bar next to Geneegin, holding his hand fondly. At the end of the song, the female comes across smiling to the party, “Beautiful, simply beautiful. I’m Rosee and this is my Inn. That was such a lovely song, and about the Goddess too, you lot can have one round of free drinks on the house.”

- Oloma speaks up, “Instead of free drink, what about free board?”

- Rosee smiles but instead offers the party half priced board instead and the party take up the offer for four days. She organises some of the staff to get the rooms prepared and gives a numbered iron key to each of the party for their seperate rooms upstairs.

- Trenchant moves around the Inn trying to discreetly see if there are any Harper agents present but none of the patrons seem to be or don’t come forward.

- Whilst Trenchant is doing this, some of the party buy drinks. Most get a simple mug of ale, but Gim orders an expensive Depth Charge, one shoot of Dwarven brandy dropped in a large mug of ale, which he then chugs down in one quick drink. He manages to keep on his feet (Successful Constitution check and advantage on any cold effects for the rest of the day).

- Nac, Oloma, Sir Krondor and Gim state they will go over to the Gladiator Stadium and see if they can enter. Seanicus states he will join them just until they stop at a near by shop to buy some cold weather gear. The group leave Rosee’s and head over to a nearby shop that Geneegin pointed out to them. Two blocks away, on the corner, is a shop that occupies the ground level of a tall four story building. The sign out the front states Diam’s General Store. Sir Krondor and Seanicus enter the warm store, whilst the others wait outside. The pair are greeted by a friendly and cheerful male Dwarf, Diam the shop owner.

- Seanicus selects a set of well made cold weather gear, that Diam sizes up for Seanicus, and when the matter of payment comes up Seanicus is a bit low on funds. He tries to haggle with Diam but does not get very far as Diam won’t budge on price (Failed Persuasion check).

- Sir Krondor says to Diam, “You ever heard of the war hammer Nedumlin?”

- Diam nods, “Yes. In my youth I read many books on the great Dwarven heroes. Yes I know of the brave Knight, Sir Krafulim Longshield and his legendary war hammer. Why?”

- Seanicus pulls out the war hammer, “Because this is it.”

- Diam speaks, his voice shaking, “It can’t be. That has been lost for an age and only one that is worthy can wield it.”

- The war hammer speaks in Dwarvish, “Hello there. I am Nedumlin, pleasure to meet you.”

- “By Marthammor’s beard!” exclaims Diam and then after he catches his breath continues, “But why does the elf carry the war hammer and not a Dwarf and a Knight of Anvil at that?”

- Sir Krondor replies with a hint of frustration, “Why indeed?”

- Now that Diam has seen the war hammer, he gives the pair a discount on anything they need, so they buy a few extra items as well. The shop keeper seems quite excited to see the war hammer and thanks the pair for their business when they leave with a wave and smile.

- Exiting the store, Seanicus waves farewell as he heads back to Rosee’s Inn whilst everyone else, Nac, Oloma, Sir Krondor and Gim, all make their way over to the far west side of the city to where the large stadium looms over the other buildings.

- Seanicus walks back to the Inn and is grateful to enter the warm establishment. Oloma is seated at a table with a drink so the Warlock joins her.

- Oloma informs Seanicus that she was talking to some of the locals in the Inn and the only information she could obtain was about the Cult uprising in Tyriba, which the party already are well aware of, and of the uprising of a large Drow war band to the far North in the Dwarvish lands. The party had previously heard of the Drow attacks but had not realised till now the extent of the attacks.

- Oloma puts her drink down, “You want a drink?”

- Seanicus replies, “No.”

- Oloma looks at Seanicus. He still wears the metal Goggles Of The Night over his eyes, a cloth is wrapped around his lower face covering all his features and his hood, as always, is worn up and pulled down low as to hide his hair. Oloma says, “You know, I just realised I’ve never seen your face, I have no idea what you look like. It’s warm enough in here. Take your hood and goggles off and relax.”

- Seanicus replies, “No thank you.”

- Oloma presses the point, “Why do you wear those goggles all the time? It’s not dark in here.”

- Seanicus stands and replies, “Enjoy your drink. I’ll be sitting at the bar.”

***

- Meanwhile Nac, Oloma, Sir Krondor and Gim have walked a long distance to the west side of the city, arriving at a section of the city that the buildings appear less well maintained, and seeing more sailers and poorer folk. They eventually arrive at the Gladiator stadium. It is shut, the two large black metal gates in the tall archway entry are closed and locked. Through the gate, the group look through a long arched corridor, and beyond the opposite side into the inner stadium. Some distance off they can see and hear some Gladiators training.

- Nac shouts out and enhances his voice to become louder (Spell Thaumaturgy) to get the attention of the people inside. A tall, solid looking dark skin male comes into view and walks towards the gate. He wears hide pants, fur boots and has a fur lined robe hung over his shoulders but under the robe he wears no shirt. His bare arms, shoulders and chest reveal an impressive set of toned muscles that are sweating with exertion. He does not seem overly concerned with the cold.

- The party learn that this male is called Awamir, and from his strong accent and dark skin, obviously comes from the kingdom of Afrandul. After enquiring about entering into the games Awamir unlocks the gate and invites the group in to see. Going inside the group see many gladiators, of various races, in vigorous training inside the inner area of the stadium. All the gladiators look impressive and very capable.

- Awamir explains the rules of the games and unless the party were to be sponsored by someone they could not enter the actual competition which goes over many weeks but they could enter a single round as a one off outside competitor with some of the gladiators. The games are every Wealday and Sunday, which would mean there is a game tomorrow. On those days they have four rounds. Outsiders may enter a single round to join the gladiators on payment of 25 gold coins and if they are the last man standing they win 200 coin golds. There are no magic items allowed in the games and of course, as per the rules of the city, there is no magic or spells allowed of any kind. The other rule is that a competitor may not refuse to fight another or aid another, though ganging up is allowed. Also once a competitor is dropped to the ground unconscious they are out and can not be further attacked but nor can they receive any healing until after the match is over, whether they live or die is up to the Gods. A competitor can yield and take a knee to leave the round at any time.

- The group thank Awamir for his time and information and state they will consider entering the games tomorrow on Wealday. They make their way back to Rosee’s Inn and rejoin the rest of the party. The party discuss what it is they need to do here in Earthcloak and recall the information that was discussed in the alliance meeting back at Lington. The information the party has is that some of the Cultists will be joining the wagon train run by the Red Scale Transport Company leaving Earthcloak on Starday the 13th of Kuthona, four days time from now. They will be disguised as to not draw attention to themselves and will be secretly transporting some of the treasure the Cult stole to somewhere called Naerytar that no one has ever heard of. The alliance needs the party to join the wagon train, ascertain who the cultists are and follow them to the final destination of Naerytar, where it is hoped that the Dragon Masks are located so they can be stolen by the alliance.

- After Trenchant makes some enquiries with Geneegin where the Red Scale Transport Company might be and Sir Krondor learns where there is a Dwarven hang out, called the White Wolf Tavern, they head out into the cold, thankful for their cold weather gear, and walk over to the south side of the city. They follow the winding roads that climb up the steep valley side. Ice covering many of the stone stairs on the roads means the party have to careful not to slip and slid down. They see many Halfling children out playing, purposely sliding down the icy streets and laughing as the hit the many safety nets that are strung up across the ends of the streets to catch people.

- The party make their way up the valley, past many tall buildings, until they come to the outskirts of the city. A large open flat area lays before the tall city defensive walls, upon which the party can see many large ballistas facing outwards to defend the city. Off to the north the party can see a section has been fenced off for a graveyard with multiple headstones and mausoleums with a large temple of some sort and off to the south the open area has been sectioned off into various sections by low wooden fences. Inside can be seen numerous and varied cattle and live stock. There are multiple buildings around.

- One large building, with it’s own large fenced off area, has a sign marked Red Scale Transport Company. Sir Krondor and Gim advise the party they will head off down the road to where the Dwarf tavern is and everyone else enters inside the Transport Compound.

- The compound is a large two story building with the ground section being one large open area obviously designed to allow horses and wagon easy access and storage. Past the building in a rear yard can be seen half a dozen wagons. People are going about various tasks.

- A Halfling male approaches the party. His name is Teorin and he is the compound manager. When Trenchant informs him they may wish to join the wagon train the manager introduces them to a solid looking male Dwarf in armour called Brumohn whom is the Wagon Master for this particular wagon train heading out. The party learn that Brumohn is short on security at the moment, as he lost some men on the last trip. The party discuss the terms of payment and duties and tell Brumohn they will think about joining the security detail. It’s a low paying job and beneath the party, which Brumohn is aware of, but is a means for the party to get on board the wagon train.

- Whilst there they look over the six wagons getting ready. The party are told that about 22 wagons all up will be on this train when it leaves in four days time. It will travel to Lightfingers, Aduren, Dunfrun, Mahik, Afenal, Sabi, Delcal and then finish at Crescent Moon, all up a journey of about 960 miles and about will take 45 days.

- Oloma talks to one of the wagon drivers, a friendly male Halfling called Enom whom appears to enjoy talking and hearing tales of adventure. Enom is a paid courier transporting various chests, boxes and barrels to various locations along the route.

- The group decide to leave and head over to meet up with the others at the Dwarf tavern whilst Oloma decides to pop into a blacksmith on the way.

***

- Meanwhile, Sir Krondor and Gim head over to the Dwarf tavern that Geneegin told them about. A sign out the front of the Tavern, only written in Dwarvish states White Wolf Tavern and has a picture of Dwarf with a large white wolf cloak wrapped around him.

- Sir Krondor and Gim head inside and within are about a dozen Dwarves, some dressed in armour, some dressed common clothes, seated around tables and at a long bar, drinking, talking and gambling. The pair learn that the bar keep, a rough looking male Dwarf, is called Torroc. Sir Krondor orders a mug of ale whilst Gim orders one of his depth charges.

- Whilst there Sir Krondor speaks to Torroc, “Are there many Dwarven Knights that come in here?”

- Torroc laughs, “Here! Oh no, this is more a pub, not really a Knight club.”

- Sir Krondor and Gim learn from a few of the Dwarves around the tavern about some news about the Drow uprising in the Dwarf kingdom Fanur and also mention of an Orc problem at Dunfrun, which is a Dwarf strong hold to the north, with no Clan.

- Whilst there, Sir Krondor spreads talk amongst the Dwarves that the war hammer of Sir Krafulim Longshield, the legendary Nedumlin, has been found and is being carried by an Elf.

***

- Oloma finds the blacksmith, a large building which unlike most buildings in the city, is only single storey. A large chimney bellows out smoke into the air. A sign out the front in common and Dwarvish reads, Wilya’s Small Hammer.

- Oloma enters the Blacksmith and makes enquiries with the Dwarf blacksmith there, Wilya, about purchasing a new weapon, as she will need to use a non magical weapon rather than her soul blades if she wishes to enter the gladiator game.

- The conversation is not going well when Oloma insinuates that the quality of Wilya’s wares are not up to scratch.

- Oloma asks, “So where are your good weapons?”

- Wilya’s eyes narrow, “All my weapons are good.”

- Oloma, not hearing the edge of anger on Wilya’s voice, presses on, “Yeah, I mean, these weapons are alright. But what about the blades you make that are really sharp. The special stuff.”

- Wilya grabs him large hammer, a small vein on the side of his temple is throbbing, “Are you insinuating that my blades are blunt? Is that what you’re saying lassy?”

- Oloma, finally realises the grave mistake she has made in questioning the workmanship of a Dwarven Smith, starts to back track, “No no, of course, all your weapons are amazing. I am just saying you probably have better stuff, you know, in the back, that …”

- The Dwarf slams the heavy hammer onto the anvil with a loud crack, “Get the fuck out of my shop now!”

- Oloma leaves the shop and decides to head over to the Dwarf tavern to rejoin the group.

***

- The group reunite at the White Wolf Tavern and after a few drinks walk back to the other side of the city and return to Rosee’s Inn. The rest of the night is uneventful and the party go to their individual rooms to sleep for night.

- Wealday, 10th of Kuthona in the year 814 (Second Era). Winter.

- The next morning sees a cloudy day, with a strong chilly wind. The ground shows frost from overnight but soon clears and melts away with the coming sun.

- At about mid morning the party start to head over to the stadium on the far west side of the city. They are not alone, as many of the locals are also walking towards the stadium. When they finally arrive there they have to line up to get to the ticket office. Sir Krondor, Nac, Gim, Oloma and Labarett all decide to enter the game as an out side competitor and pay the 25 gold coin joining fee. Trenchant and Naillae pay the 5 silver pieces to enter stadium to watch the show. Seanicus decides not to spend any money and instead stands just outside the main gate, along with a group of children and some of the poorer locals to watch the show through the entry tunnel.

- Sir Krondor, Nac, Gim, Oloma and Labarett are lead by one of the gladiators to a lower level that runs under the stadium. There Awamir checks over their gear and weapons to make sure they are within the rules. A female elf, using some sort of gold monocle looks over the party’s stuff and determines that Nac’s boots and long sword, Gim’s Dragon Breastplate, Oloma’s cloak and pendant, Sir Krondor’s cloak and Labarett’s cloak will have to come off. These items, along with their backpacks and other gear, are taken and stored in a locked property room. Gim borrows a spare set of breastplate from the armoury of the gladiators but there are no spare boots for Nac so he has to go out barefoot.

- Trenchant and Naillae walk into the stadium and take a seat on one of the many levels. The stadium is packed with people watching the game. There are vendors selling food or drink, or bookmakers taking bets on the game. On a board are the names of the various Gladiators and their details and odds to win for betting. Sir Krondor, Gim, and Labarett have been given 2 to 1 odds, whilst Nac and Oloma have been given 3 to 1 odds.

- The competitors are all taken to a random door, there being 12 doors stationed equally around the inner stadium. Each of the doors open and all the competitors step forward to the cheer of the ground. There is about 50 feet distance between each competitor.

- Starting from the main entrance into the stadium, the order of the competitors are Labarett, Nac, Gim, a Human gladiator, a Half-orc gladiator, a Dragonborn gladiator, a human gladiator, Sir Krondor, a Human gladiator, a Half-orc gladiator, Oloma and then a Human gladiator.

- The human gladiators are armed with shields and spears, the Half-orc gladiators have shields and scimitars and the Dragonborn gladiator has a shield and longsword.

- The Dragonborn gladiator stands a foot taller than anyone else on the field and the other gladiators seem to be wary of him. His gear, looks more impressive than anyone else’s.

- A loud voice, booming out of a brass cone, as an announcer shouts into it, fills the stadium: “People of Earthcloak, we present the next round. Along with seven of our regular gladiators we have five outside competitors.”

- A loud cheer erupts from the crowd. Naillae leans into Trenchant, “Isn’t this romantic?”

- Trenchant moves away, “What? We’re about to watch people trying to kill each other, including our own friends!”

- Naillae smiles at Trenchant, “Yes but you and I are together. Alone. Is this our first date?”

- Trenchant turns to look back at the stadium, “We are not alone, there must be two thousand people in this stadium and this is not a date.”

- The booming voice continues, “Competitors. Remember the rules. No magic. No aiding another competitor or refusing to fight another competitor. And no attacking any unconscious competitors or competitors that have yielded. On the sound of the horn, fight for honour and glory!”

- All the competitors braced up, getting ready for the horn blast. When it comes, the Dragonborn immediately sprints towards the centre of the large stadium and crouches low, scanning all around him.

- Gim and one of the human gladiators move towards each other and engage, likewise Oloma and another human gladiator move towards each to engage but Oloma can hear one of the Half-orc gladiators running towards her from the rear. Sir Krondor gets rushed by two human gladiators and the three all start fighting each other. Labarett sees that Oloma is in a bad position so decides to run over and charge into the human gladiator attacking her to free Oloma up to deal with the approaching Half-orc gladiator from the other side. Nac and one of the Half-orcs cautiously move forward towards each other, watching the fighting, until the Half-orc breaks out into a run and charges towards Nac.

- There are now four combats going on. A battle between a Human gladiator, a Half-orc gladiator, Oloma and Labarett. A battle between Nac and a Half-orc gladiator. A battle between a Human gladiator and Gim. The final battle is between two Human gladiators and Sir Krondor. All the while, in the centre of the stadium the Dragonborn gladiator stays ready, watching all the battles and waiting patiently.

- The combat is hectic. Gladiators are attacking each other and also the members of the party. The party members are refraining from directly attacking each other and instead are attacking the gladiators.There are many mistakes and outstanding moments in the first initial stage. One of the gladiators rips open a wound on another gladiator (Critical Hit - Triple Damage), likewise another of the gladiators fumbles his hold on his weapon and hits himself (Fumble), another gladiator gets his armour torn half off by another gladiator (Critical Hit).

- Trenchant stands up shouting at the game, the same as all the other people in the stadium crowd. The difference with Trenchant’s loud shouting is that the Bard’s voice is having an effect on the party members. With the Bard’s help Labarett scores a deadly strike on a gladiator (Bardic Inspiration).

- Sir Krondor is getting battered from the two gladiators and shouts out a rally cry of defiance, “For Fanur!” and continues the battle renewed (Second Wind - Healed).

- Nac shield bashes the Half-orc gladiator into the ground and then smashes his war hammer into the downed figure.

***

- Outside Seanicus is trying to look over the heads of people crowded at the entry gate, to look down the long corridor through the stadium and look at a slice of the middle of the game. The Warlock can make out some of the party and gladiators but it is hard to know what is happening.

- Inside the stadium, in the upper seats, Naillae looks over the crowds of people, “How’s it looking?”

- Trenchant leans over a large head sitting in front of him, “Well, Sir Krondor and two of the human gladiators are bashing the crap out of each other, it seems to be an even match there. Nac and Gim are locked in a one on one combat with a gladiator each, Nac is keeping his one down and the battle with Gim seems evenly matched. Labarett, Oloma and two gladiators are all attacking but it looks like our two are getting the upper hand, manly because Labarett is getting hit but mostly ignoring the blows (Barbarian Rage - resistance on non magic attacks) but Labarett’s fighting style is a bit erratic (one Critical hit and two fumbles). Yes! Labarett just smashed the Half-orc scimitar and bent it (permanent damage reduction three quarters). It’s close but there’s still the Dragonborn gladiator in the centre, he hasn’t been touched yet.”

- Just then the crowd jumps up and starts to cheer louder, stamping their feet.

- “What happened?” asked Naillae.

- “Lion!” answers Trenchant with a worry.

***

- One of the doors of the stadium, near to Nac, opens and out leaps a lion that runs and leaps towards Nac. The Cleric manages to sidestep out the way but now he has a lion and a gladiator attacking him. The gladiator keeps moving around to keep the lion away from him. The battle with Nac, the Half-orc gladiator and the lion has become a struggle of the two competitors trying to attack each other and keep out of reach of the lion. Nac stumbles as the lion lunges and both change places (Fumble - swap places). Nac is forced to keep attacking and bashing the lion to keep it back and that allows the Half-orc the time to attack Nac without come back. It gives the gladiator the opportunity to swing his scimitar in a deadly blow that slashes across Nac’s face and cuts open a deep and ugly scar on his left check (Critical Hit - permanent scar).

- The first competitor to be taken out is one of the Human gladiators that Oloma and Labaret were dealing with. He is dealt a blow that sees him falling backwards to lay at an odd angle, blood pours out of a wound. The gladiator’s chest is raising and falling in shallow breaths. Whether he lives or dies before the game ends is up to the Gods; the same fate awaits any of the party should they fall. His departure from the game allows Oloma and Labaret to turn their attention on the Half-orc gladiator that is left near them. He is struggling to defend himself against the combined pair and is desperately shield bashing at Labarett to force the raging Barbarian back.

- Gim and the Half-orc gladiator he is facing are dealing blow to blow, they appear evenly matched but Gim is taking a beating through bad luck (DM was consistently rolling high attack and damage rolls versus Gim). Gim is using every trick he has just to stay in the game, matching the skill and brute strength of the gladiator but to no avail (Second Wind and Action Surge). Gim is badly wounded and tired. The Dwarf can see his opponent is only somewhat injured. Gim knows he has to yield now or else he faces possibly losing his life. The Dwarf Fighter kneels down on one knee and shouts, “I yield!” (down to 14 Hit Points)

- Another of the Human gladiators, next to Sir Krondor, blood covering most of his face and blinding him, drops to one knee and shouts, “I yield!” Sir Krondor still has one gladiator left who is relatively uninjured. Sir Krondor is struggling against this Human gladiator. The gladiator’s spear is jabbing constantly at the Dwarf Knight. Sir Krondor knocks away some of the spear jabs but not all and he is getting more and more wounded. Blood seeps into his Order Of The Anvil tabard turning the off white into a rose colour. The Knight of the Anvil considers yielding but his opponent is wounded too and he hopes to get in a lucky strike. The gladiator thrusts his spear towards Sir Krondor’s throat in a killing blow but at the last second the tired Dwarf knocks it aside with his shield (Critical Hit on Sir Krondor but Trenchant used his personal Inspiration to force the DM to re-roll the dice, it still hit but was no longer a critical hit). Sir Krondor is swinging wildly now, his strength spent, half blinded by the sweat coming into his eyes. The gladiator lunges low and down with his spear, his spear skewers the Knight in his guts, and with a grunt Sir Krondor falls over unconscious and bleeding to death (Sir Krondor took more than 30 points of damage in a single attack). His fate now lies with the Gods for no one can aid him. The gladiator turns to look at the other side of the stadium and begins to make his way over to where Oloma, Labaret and the Half-orc gladiator are in battle.

- Nac swings his war hammer into the side of the head of the lion and with a sickening crush the beast tumbles onto it’s side dead. As Nac and the Half-orc gladiator again face each other, hopes of a far fight are dashed when another of the doors on the edge of the stadium, near to them starts to raise.

***

- The crowd starts to cheer and hollow louder.

- “Now what? Dam it I can’t see a thing!” shouts Naillae.

- Trenchant pushes the head of the person in front of him to the side, “The door near Nac has opened again. Oh no, how can that be fair!?”

- “What?” shouts Naillae. She grabs Trenchant and pulls his head toward her, “What!?”

- Trenchant shouts over the roar of the crowd, “Saber toothed tiger!”

- “You’ve got to help them. They’ll be ripped alive!” demands Naillae.

- Trenchant turns back to stadium and pushes aside three people to get a clear view. The Bard starts to scream at the top of his lungs, using his Bardic powers to aid the party down there in any way possible (Bardic Inspiration).

***

- As the door opens a massive saber tooth tiger appears and growls. It’s muscles ripple under its fur.

- Oloma, Labarett and the Half-orc gladiator are now joined by another gladiator, the Human gladiator that dropped Sir Krondor. Now the four are in a frantic battle, with weapons swinging in a chaotic storm of metal on metal. Sir Krondor, on the far side of the stadium has stopped bleeding and has stabilised, the Gods have smiled on the Dwarf (1 Failed and 3 Successful Death Saves).

- For the first time in the game, the Dragonborn gladiator moves. He moves backwards, away from the direction of the large tiger, keeping an eye on the beast and the competitors around him. The injured Human gladiator that bested Gim, leaves the kneeling Dwarf, and looks around for another opponent. He sees the un-injured Dragonborn gladiator near him but decides to instead run forward to attack the injured Half-orc gladiator that is paired against Nac. The Half-orc doesn’t see the Human gladiator running at him as the Half-orc has his full attention on the growling tiger but at the last second knocks the spear aside with his scimitar. Now the Human gladiator and Half-orc gladiator are locked in battle, but careful to keep moving away from the tiger.

- Nac too is slowly backing away but unluckily for him the tiger bolts towards him and lunges at the Cleric. Nac is disparately smashing his shield into the tiger to drop it but the beast manages to avoid most of the shield bashes. Nac is doing little against the beast but at least the Cleric is managing to avoid the claws and teeth by staying close to his shield.

- Back and forth the Half-orc and Human gladiator trade blows, always keeping their attention on the tiger and trying to get away from it. The Half-orc gladiator slices the throat of the Human gladiator, dropping him to the ground, but before the Half-orc can rest, the Dragonborn gladiator finally moves in to engage in battle. With an easy and merciless attack the Dragonborn leaps at the back of the injured Half-orc and thrusts his long sword in the Half-orc’s back, killing his opponent.

- The intensity of the battle has grown now. The Half-orc gladiator near Oloma and Labarett is dropped to the ground bleeding to death (after receiving and dealing a Critical hit) which causes the very badly injured Human gladiator adjacent to drop to his knee and yield instead of risking death.

- There is now only the Dragonborn gladiator, who is uninjured, Nac who is struggling against a saber tooth tiger and Labaret and Oloma standing facing each other on one side of the stadium.

- Labaret speaks to the very badly wounded Oloma, “Take a knee Oloma. You are hurt. I am barely scratched. I will take on the Dragonborn and win this fight.”

- Oloma has a look of pure determination, “No. I will win this fight! I will not back down, to anyone!”

- Oloma wildly waves her scimitar around pretending to attack Labarett but in reality she sends her mind against the Elf Barbarian, in her most powerful psionic attack, the force raging through Labarett’s head, injuring him from the inside.

- Labaret braces himself, stumbling backwards. He looks at Oloma in shock and then his eyes narrow in determination, “I too will not back down!” and then begins to move forward swinging his long sword at Oloma.

- Oloma ducks under the first swing but takes a blow from the back swing of Labarett’s sword. She kneels down and then pretends to swing her scimitar, which is no where actually near Labarett. Her mind sends forth another powerful psionic blast and causes Labarett to black out and fall over, bleeding internally (more than 24 points of damage done in a single attack).

- A horn blasts and a loud voice, amplified by a horn, shouts, “Foul! Disqualified for magic use!”

- One of the doors near Oloma opens and two very angry looking gladiators come out and wave for her to get off the field of battle. She slowly starts to walk towards the door as the crowd near her boos and call out to her, “Cheater!”. She has survived the battle but in disgrace (down to 11 Hit Points).

- Now there are only two competitors. Nac, who is badly injured, barely standing and still fending off the saber toothed tiger, and the Dragonborn gladiator who is not injured at all.

- Nac kneels and shouts, “I yield!” whilst he pushes his shield forward towards the tiger.

- The crowd erupts as the Dragonborn waves his sword in the air in a victory salute. A door near Nac opens up and two animal handlers come running out with long poles with metal rings to capture the tiger. But before they can reach him, the tiger leaps around the kneeling Cleric and slashes him with a pair of mighty claws. Nac tries to keep his shield in the way, whilst the two animal handlers arrive and capture the beast to lead it away. Nac lives but barely (down to 8 Hit Points).

XP Allocation

Group - Combined (This is equally divided by the number of players who were involved)

Quests (Only quests that are completed or rendered undoable, during this session, are shown here)

- Return Vessel to Yonochen (Partial Only - he took it from you) = 1000 XP

- Enter The Gladiator Duel = 2000 XP (Sir Krondor, Gim, Oloma, Nac and Labarett only)

- Win The Gladiator Duel = FAIL

- Assist In The Gladiator Duel = 50 XP (Trenchant only)

Creatures Overcome

- N/A (Part of Gladiator Duel Quest above)

Individual (This is only given to that person and is not divided amongst all players)

Special Bonus (Outstanding Role Playing)

- True To Their Flaws (Friendly Fire) = 100 XP (Oloma and Labarett only)

XP Levels and Player Allocations

Player : Start + Received = Total (Notes)

Phil : 25025 + 394 = 25419

Rob : 31499 + 718 = 32217

Arthur : 21727 + 394 = 22121

Bob : 20711 + 656 = 21367

Travis : 19208 + 175 = 19383

Paul : 16565 + 575 = 17140

Sean : 16750 + 125 = 16875

NPC (Naillae) : + (63)

#D&D #DnD #5th #RPG #HOTDQ

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gaiatheorist · 5 years

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“Does it spark joy?”

2.30am on a Sunday morning, and I’ve read yet another article on Marie Kondo. I’m coming unravelled again, and setting myself distraction-tasks, to avoid plummeting into one of my rabbit-holes. They’re holding strategies, last year I had the garden, this year, I have the house and the garden. I’ll grow some of my own food, because the UK unemployment benefit doesn’t leave any leeway for anything but bills. (I’m lucky, I ‘Won the Golden Ticket’ of an award of disability benefit, it’s highly probable that it will be declined when it comes to renewal in less than a year, despite my brain injuries being permanent.) I ‘caught’ myself moving things around a few days ago, it’s one of my anxiety-behaviours, I don’t have very much control about the external-world, so I focus on what I can control.

Moving things around. Do I want/need ‘that’? Is it of any practical use now, or am I just holding on to it for sentimental reasons? (There’s very little here that isn’t of practical use, I don’t really ‘keep things’, and I do have regular periods of purging what’s left.) There’s no ‘sparking joy’, just an awful lot of irritability. My strange friend Creepy Carpet Tile Man visited recently, and pointed to various ‘things’, saying “Why don’t you put that on eBay?” “It’s not mine.” “Surely it is now? He’s been gone long enough, doesn’t it become legally yours after all these years?” My loft is full of the ex’s ‘stuff’, and I can’t use my garden shed, because that’s packed with his belongings as well. I hate being ‘tethered’ to him, I’m sick of asking him to take things away, and him ‘forgetting’, or ‘having something on’, he’s unreliable, he always was. I’m also cautious of snapping at him in front of our son, so this is, in part, a situation of my own making. The ex is doing what he always did, “Leave something long enough and someone else will sort it.”, he’s ‘not the most useful arrangement of molecules’, as the kid once described him.

The practical thing for me to do would be to tell the ex again that I want his various stuff gone. I don’t want to be responsible for it, I have enough difficulty being responsible for myself some days. He doesn’t have the time, or the storage space, his parents aren’t well, and our son is in the final year of his degree. ‘Never a good time’ again. I’m angry at him for being generally inept, and I’m frustrated with myself for absorbing the emotional load again. I am not responsible for him, and I’m stuck in a loop of all the times he’d tantrum “I’m not happy!”, projecting his own inadequacies onto me, making himself the centre of the universe, and blaming me for not being what he wanted. I never really was, he wanted a compliant house-mouse who would bend over backwards to serve her Lord and Master, I’m not that. He wanted me to be an extension of him, and I’m a distinct entity, like Peter Pan’s shadow, I made the separation, but I’m still scrubbing away his stains, three years on.

That’s not a metaphor, I am literally scrubbing away stains. As well as being inept and egocentric, he was dirty. The lettings agents inspect the property every six months, when he was here, that would lead to me dousing the house in Febreeze and bleach on the morning of the inspection, after he’d gone to work. Housework was ‘my’ responsibility, and, apart from hurriedly shoving piles of his own worn socks down the arm of the sofa when his Dad visited, he didn’t do anything. I allowed that to continue. He never once washed the dishes, or vacuumed, and if he spilled or dropped anything on the carpet, he’d either just leave it, or blot it with one of his socks. He expected undying gratitude for mowing the lawn, and once sulked for days because I didn’t praise him for cleaning the outside of the vacuum cleaner. (No, he didn’t use it, or even empty it, he cleaned the outside of it, the man’s a melon.) At the last inspection, I asked the agent if there was any action required on my part. “No, it’s just the cleanliness again.” “Pardon?” “Well, your carpets and that, we know some of the stains were here when you moved in.” ‘Some’ of them, the rest were the ex, and his rancid dog.

I can’t remember when we bought the Vax carpet-cleaning machine, it’s not really something I’d have marked on the calendar, but it most probably was in response to a spill of some description, and it probably wasn’t me that spilled it. (I am incredibly clumsy, more so since the brain injuries, but if I spill something, I clean it up straight away, so it doesn’t set as a stain.) The Vax worked the first time I used it, and then the second time I tried, there was no suction. The ex said he’d look at it, but it wasn’t a motorbike, or pornography, or a YouTube video of UFO conspiracies, so he didn’t look at it. For years, the lettings agents would ask me to address the stains on the carpets, and I’d end up on my hands and knees, with a bucket and a scrubbing brush, because the Vax was ‘broken.’ One year, after I’d blistered my hands really badly attempting to scrub the carpet, he hired an industrial carpet cleaning machine for me to use, then berated me for not using it properly, and leaving streaks on the carpet. The machine was faulty, he said he’d ask for a replacement, but that never happened, he ‘forgot.’

The Vax wasn’t ‘broken’, it was clogged. Dog-hair, and dirt, and grit had obstructed the inlet to the vacuum, and dried in position. Unclogging it would have been more pleasant if the machine hadn’t evidently sucked dog-urine out of the carpets. His dog pissed on everything, and he said he couldn’t smell it. I could. Apart from the constant-stink, wet carpet has a tendency to absorb more dirt, between the allotment, and the ex working in engineering, there was plenty of dirt. (Also lots of sand and grit, he had a tendency to dump fishing and camping gear on the carpet, “I’ll shift that in a bit.”, then he’d assume his position on the sofa, dropping yet more crumbs from toast and crisps.)

“It was just the way he was raised.” was my old excuse for his behaviour. His family had a very traditional-patriarchal structure, the men went out to work, and the women had ‘little jobs’, and assumed responsibility for all of the housework. That was his ‘normal’, but not mine, my mother was an utter slattern, she worked full-time, she vacuumed once a week, and sporadically responded to my step-father’s desire for a basic degree of cleanliness by storming into my bedroom with a bin-liner, and a beating. Teaching me how-to-housework wasn’t on her agenda, I suppose I ought to thank her for not trying to shape me into some sort of Stepford Wife. Nobody taught the ex how-to-housework, either, when he split up with the girlfriend before me, the Mother-in-law took on his cleaning, laundry, and evening meals, lest his precious testicles fall clean off if he touched a duster. That stopped when he introduced me, and there was an assumption that I’d take over.

The first couple of months that we lived together were absolute chaos, I was working two jobs at the same time, so the house ended up looking like it had been rolled down a hill. The in-laws would ‘tut’ when they visited, and then the Mother-in-law straight-out ‘told’ me “You really need to Hoover every day, because of the dogs.” Me, not him. Some friends of his pointed out that I was ALWAYS washing dishes when they visited. I was. It wasn’t a house-proud thing, he’d always offer visitors coffee (which I was expected to make), and the mugs would all be dirty in the sink, because washing dishes wasn’t a routine thing.

I’d moved in with him in the October, and in December, I became ill. ‘Viral illness’, which is doctor-code for “We’re not entirely sure, might clear up in time.” I’d changed jobs at the start of November, and was on a temporary ‘seasonal’ contract, which wasn’t renewed when my sick-note expired. I was unemployed, and really quite unwell, but I was ‘home all day’, and the ex quickly shifted from “I don’t expect to come home from work to find pots in the sink!” to “You need to get another job, or go.” Fine, whatever, being ‘kept’ was never going to suit me. A succession of menial factory jobs followed, frequently doubling-back, and staying for the ‘afters’ shift after doing the ‘days’ shift. Oh, look, the dishes are STILL in the sink. The company he was working for was having ‘financial difficulties’, and would ‘pay him next week’, so I kept accepting the double-backs, because it was only going to be a short-term thing. It wasn’t. The company went into administration, he was unemployed, and the dishes were still in the sink.

He found another job, and we entered another period of clutter-and-chaos, kicking crap behind the sofa when the in-laws car pulled up outside. Their tutting and eye-rolling was never directed at him, their blue-eyed-boy wasn’t expected to cook or clean, he had a woman to do that for him. Except I didn’t. He’d have sporadic tantrums, usually directed at my books, or letter-writing, “I didn’t grow up in a scruffy house, YOU didn’t grow up in a scruffy house, why do you let it get like this?” Erm, I did grow up in a scruffy house, and a couple of books aren’t really the issue here. He denigrated the me-things, it wasn’t the physical presence of books, or writing paper, or bits of art-and-craft materials, it was the fact that while I was reading, or writing, or making things, my attention wasn’t on him.

He’d occasionally decide he was going to clean up, but that usually lead to him emptying all of the videos out of the cabinet, dusting the shelves, and then deciding to watch a film, he really was rubbish. I started trying to play house, to please him, I had no idea what I was doing, literally, I shrunk his laundry, scorched his ironing, burned his dinner. Psychologically, I played right into his coercive control, we’d had the whirlwind romance, which had led to me excluding most of my friends, because he didn’t like them, and I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I didn’t like most of his friends, but I pushed the feelings, and their wandering hands away. I made myself less-than, back then, I idolised him, I had made him my ‘everything’, thrown myself into him, and this rabbit-hole precipice now is because I’m struggling to ‘find myself’. (Sick-bucket, please.) I spent 20 years walking on eggshells, trying not to upset him, more than half of that time, we’d accepted that the marriage was over, and I’d agreed to stay with him to avoid unsettling our son, or upsetting the Father-in-law.

Ironically, the near-miss with my brain haemorrhage made me more aware of cleaning. My sense of smell is heightened, and I have constant visual disturbances, as well as a tendency to knock things over. Heaps and clutter are just accidents waiting to happen. More than that, nearly dying made me realise I wasn’t really living. There’s a tangent here, the ex’s mother died after a brain haemorrhage, I both didn’t-want-him, and didn’t want to be a constant reminder of his past-loss. I survived what killed his idol, she was the strongest woman he’d known, until he met me, and I really didn’t think it was fair on either of us to continue with the sham half-life.

So, I’ll continue paring-down, throwing-out, and inventing new swear-words. Does the Vax machine that I’ve repaired with brute force, twisty-wire and duct tape ‘spark joy’? Of course it doesn’t. Does the fact that I’m finally managing to remove the stains he left from the carpet ‘spark joy’? Don’t be ridiculous, it’s physically painful, and every time I get the carpet wet, it re-activates the stench of dog-piss and engineering grease, I’m ploughing through my supplies of scented candles and wax melts at an alarming rate. I have a sense of achievement that I’ve managed to Womble-fix the Vax, and I know I’ll feel more content in myself after a couple more sessions of Vax-ing.

That was the point, I don’t do much in the way of ‘joy’, an old friend recently used ‘joy’ in a Facebook private message to me, and I shook my head. Looking for joy-and-only-joy is a futile existence, I’m not as miserable as the persona I project to the world, but humans aren’t designed to exist in a permanent state of ‘joy’ or ‘happiness’. It’s a fine aspiration to explore and embrace the truly wonderful, but it’s not a realistic expectation that everything-can-always-be-perfect. It can’t. These blogs are usually negative, it’s my way of purging, I do look for the positives in life, and there are many, but that Instagram-perfect isn’t me. I do false-front, I acknowledge that, but I refuse to buy-in to this something-saturation we’re bombarded with, I don’t need affirmation that I’m ‘enough’, I don’t need-to-be-needed, wanting-to-be-wanted is a different matter.

I am ‘enough’, and I struggle with other-people pushing ‘happy’ as the norm. I’m content with I-don’t-hate-this, and accepting I-hate-this-now-but-it-will-be-done-soon.

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wayneooverton · 5 years

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10 reasons why fall is the best season for adventures

Cool, crisp air. Shorter days. Fireplace cranking, Hot toddy’s flowing. The crunch of fallen leaves underfoot.

There’s no question that fall is the season of cozy. Dare I say hygge?

Even the die-hard lovers of spring, summer and winter can admit there’s just that strange, mysterious factor that make everyone feel warm and happy when they transition into the season of color.

I know better than anyone how tempting it is to go into hibernation mode in autumn. An East Coast girl at heart, these colorful months are in my blood, even since I moved to New Zealand and have come to accept fall in April – which let’s be honest, is still kinda weird.

I love snuggling up next to the fire with a good book, content with spending a day baking and writing, and of course, thinking. But I love even more wandering outside beneath yellow leaves, and the smell of fire in the air.

I know it’s tempting to put on your long johns and start the Christmas music in October but don’t be too quick to skip this magical season all together. Fall is my favorite time of the year and is arguably the best season for adventure, even if it arrived very late this year.

Step aside summer and winter, we’ve got a new favorite adventure season in town.

1. The perfect weather

Congratulations, you’ve made it through the sweltering summer.

You’ve endured endless nights of restlessness because it’s frankly too damn hot to be comfortable. You’ve survived the bug bites, the ugly ass sun hats, the hair that sticks to your sweaty forehead making looking presentable almost impossible. You’ve done it!

Welcome to fall where you’ll be greeted with the perfect temperatures. All those hikes you decided to abandon because it was too hot? Now’s the perfect time to do them.

You’ll be comfortable and cool and maybe you’ll even get to wear more than the absolute bare minimum for layers. Throw on that cute beanie you’ve kept in storage.

You’ll be just cool enough to keep the sweating to a minimum so you can get those summit views easier and more comfortably.

Nothing beats Central Otago in autumn

My house in Wanaka is decked out in Wilson & Dorset New Zealand sheepskins

Two Paddocks, my favorite local winery, looks stunning in the fall

2. All the pretty colors, obviously

Anyone who pretends to be unfazed by the radiant light show that nature puts on every autumn is, quite frankly, full of shit.

It is spectacular when the leaves change, heralding fall, no questions asked.

Golds, reds, oranges, I love them all. As soon as the leaves begin to change, my heart soars and I want to be out and about amongst the colors as much as I can.

Nature is literally changing its whole color scheme from bright green to earthy browns, yellows, reds, purples. Seeing an entire landscape explode into a totally different shade than a month ago?

That’s magic.

It’s like seeing a mountain on fire without any of the danger. Yes please, can nature look like this all the time??

3. No more crazy crowds

Good news! Summer vacations are over.

Those crying, screaming kids disrupting your peaceful nature time are back in school.

For some reason, people are spending their weekend watching football which is great because that means you get nature all to yourself. Take advantage of the quiet trails while everyone else is gorging on cheese dip and pumpkin spiced lattes.

Just avoid those heavy Instagram autumn spots, can’t guarantee those won’t be busy.

I kept my portable Lotus Belle Air Beam Bud set up all through the autumn in Wanaka

Onesies by the fire, am I right?

4. You get to wear all of the clothes and be all cozy

Summer wardrobes suck.

Everything is exposed all of the time and after few weeks of sweating through your outfit every day, you begin to miss the beauty of an autumn wardrobe.

When on a summer hike, you can only take off so much but in fall, it’s time to layer up, baby! Leggings, thick socks, leather boots, long-sleeves, hoodies, jackets and beanies.

Fall wardrobes have so much opportunity, so much diversity.

I live in this Patagonia flannel top come autumn

Danner boots are my favorite adventure boots when I’m on the road

5. Explore the mountains before they’re covered in snow

You may already be frothing for winter and a season on the skis but don’t forget that when the snow comes, a lot of the alpine will generally be off limits.

This is your last chance to get high without the complications of ski gear and avalanche knowledge.

In fall, the peaks may get a small dusting of snow but it’s still accessible and plus, a light dusting paired with a fiery mountain landscape is the stuff photographers drool over. Enjoy those peaks. You might not see them again for another six months.

A light but high quality puffer jacket is essential for hikes in the autumn

6. Vinyard harvest

Living near wine regions around the world, I have because highly aware of autumn because of the harvest. Come vintage time, all hands are on deck and these beautiful bits of land truly come alive as everyone works to bring in the grapes before the frosts of winter descend.

A true art form that I’ll never understand, what I do get it is the wild harvest parties that happen at the end, that I often end up at!

So much fun.

7. It’s totally fine to end a hike with hot cider and a hearty meal

Roasted veggies, hearty stews, mashed potatoes. Fall is the season of comfort food.

No one wants to end their hot summery hike with a big roast dinner and a hot apple cider. No thanks.

In Autumn? Definitely! You can reward yourself after your adventure with a hot, comforting meal fit for kings.

8. Shorter days means you get to see more sunrises and sunsets

Fall is great for lovers of sleep.

It’s darker longer which means that pesky sun won’t wake you up until much, much later. You even get an extra hour of sleep when the clock rolls back. For those of us who love sleep to an unhealthy degree, seeing a sunrise in the summer is brutally painful. Waiting up at 5:30am just to be prepped for morning golden hour? Sounds good in theory but never works quite like I want it to.

In Fall? No problem. Go ahead and give yourself a sleep in. You’ll get your beauty rest, have time to make a coffee and still make golden hour. Nice!

Planning an autumn hike when the days are shorter means that you need to be extra prepared with gear. I always throw in a headlamp if I’m going on a day hike and always carry more layers than I think I’ll need in case the weather really turns. You gotta be prepared for it all.

9. Wildlife viewing can be amazing

Grab your binoculars!

Bird are migrating, salmon are spawning, elk are bugling, the high alpine animals are slowly making their way down the mountain as the temperatures drop. Bears are scrounging up the last of the berries before heading off for hibernation and squirrels are busy gathering and stashing nuts for the winter.

For those who want to get a glimpse of these elusive animals, autumn is your chance! But be careful, wildlife can be especially aggressive this time of year so keep your distance and resist all temptation to get a selfie with wild animals.

If you’re hiking in bear territory, it’s always a good idea to carry a bell and bear spray, just in case.

10. Get cabin cozy

And last but not least, my favorite thing to do in autumn is spend time out away from the cities cozied away in a cute cabin.

From the smells of the first wood fires to the crunchy leaves under your feet as you walk through the woods, there is something so nostalgic and lovely about getting away for a few days to a cabin somewhere. Airbnb is usually my go-to for looking for little cabins to get away to. Do you have any faves to share?

Spill – do love fall as much as me? What’s your favorite autumn adventure?

Many thanks to Backcountry.com for supporting us on our adventures. Note: some of these links are affiliate links. Like always, we’re keeping it real. All opinions are our own, like you could expect less from us!

The post 10 reasons why fall is the best season for adventures appeared first on Young Adventuress.

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solivar · 7 years

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WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

Now with 100% more best dad!Gabe, ickle naayee!Jesse, and -- hey! Is that an Overwatch origin story? IT IS!

A low rumble of thunder riding a hot gust of wind, the first to stir the ground level air since dawn, followed him up onto the ranch house’s back porch, set the wind-chimes hanging from the eaves to either side of the steps ringing with spirit-calling music. Also not a good sign: the chimes wouldn’t call in such a way if there was no need for them to do so. From inside, he heard a chair dragging across the kitchen floor and Yanaba came to the back screen door, stepped outside to join him. “Anything?”