Small Beginnings - Final Update 6/18/04, ITEOTWAWKI, AIFF!

“Against the Grain,” or “Can’t See the Forest for the Tree”

In the interest of setting a good example for my son, who will be coming home from the hospital an day now, we have decided to take a different direction with our installment introductions.

Lightning Bolt!

This is a new, more responsible, Enk & D'Shai.

Lightning Bolt!

So from now on, expect a certain amount of decorum, sobriety, and civility in these posts.

Lightning Bolt!

And in addition...

Lightning Bolt!

I would like to say...

Lightning Bolt!

that...

Lightning Bolt!

Would you please stop doing that?

Doing what?

Saying "Lightning Bolt."

Then how about a Tip o' the Day:
If you LARP, it might not be a good idea to film it.

That was... interesting.

You're interesting, if interesting means "stupid."

You're stupid!

You're stupid!

You're stupid!

You're stupid!

You're stupid!

You're stupid...



*****

“Against the Grain,” or “Can’t See the Forest for the Tree”




“Here we are.”

Ander knelt down and squirmed his way forward through the dense underbrush, closely following the goblin that had brought the ranger and his companions safely thus far. Balsag had led the group through the smoldering forest while avoiding contact with the shambling twigs that he said still fought the remaining pockets of fire: Ander couldn’t find a reason to stop trusting his guide now. When he came even with the goblin, who like the woodsman was now coated with a thick black ash, Ander pushed aside the soft branch to get a better look at the hill that would serve as the battlefield for the assault against the demon tree.

The hill rose up so that a tree line formed around the base, leaving the slopes empty: free of even the brambles that covered the rest of the underground forest floor. Sitting atop the steep hill like a king looking over his subjects was the twisted black form of the demon tree: its blackened bark outlined against the cold glowing moss covered ceiling. The leafless oak was gnarled and twisted, its main trunk covered in knots that gave it the illusion of a hundred mouths howling in pain. The only spots of color were several golden fruits that hung from the thick arm branches that stretched toward the hanging stalactites.

“Remember, I cannot help you in this fight, woodsman,” Balsag whispered from beside the young man. “My previous agreement with the tree’s lackey Belak keeps me from supplying you with anything more than information at this stage.”

“Too bad your agreement with the tree’s keeper didn’t include protecting him too. Bad for him, good for us.”

“I told you once, Belak bargained poorly. Your halfling friend was much better.”

Ander paused, thinking that Balsag might have more to say on the subject. After a moment, he continued, “I trust you’ll honor our agreement?”

Balsag turned his large shaggy head to look directly into the ranger’s eyes. “I have never broken my word. I don’t plan to start now.”

The young ranger shifted uncomfortably as the goblin stared at him. He had seen that look once before, last Festival, when a southerner had called one of the Icemist barbarians a liar. The southerner had ended up dead. “Just keep those goblins from coming down here and interfering,” Ander said, letting out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“As long as three hundred gold lions cross my palm when I have safely delivered you to your destination, all will be well, Woodsman Ander.”

“First battles first Balsag. What more can you tell me of the demon?”

“Ah yes, ‘know your prey,’ the first rule of the hunt. Very well, but I suggest we join your companions so that I do not have to repeat myself. They may well offer additional insights into areas where my knowledge is limited.”

The ranger nodded his agreement and crawled after the goblin back towards the others. As much as his instincts told him not to, Ander found that he was beginning to like this giant goblin; he reminded the woodsman of his old teacher – Wrothgar wore his opinion on his armor too. Still, Ander reminded himself, there are differences: ones I need to remember.

When the two trackers returned to the group, Ander found everyone battle armed but waiting patiently. Ander spoke first, before anyone could ask any questions, “The battlefield’s fairly open, but before we talk about plans, I’ve asked Balsag to give us more information about the tree. I suggest we listen to what he has to say, but even he says he might have holes in what he knows. If you have something to add then speak up. Balsag?”

Balsag crossed his arms and spoke, “To fight this tree, I think you must first know what it is. Since most of you appear to be too young to remember the war, I will start there, but I will omit unnecessary details to avoid debate over who is responsible for what.” Ander heard a sniff from Theo at this remark, but Balsag continued.

“In the conflict that you surface dwellers call the Dread War, the Lords of the Nether Realm gained access to our world by the will and power of the Dreadlord. Generals of the demon princes were able to march whole armies onto what was once known as the Talbin Peninsula, and from the great tower there they were able to begin a bloody march westward.” Ander looked around his circled companions – from the look on Theo’s face, the priest knew a great deal of this already. “These demon armies laid such waste to the kingdoms of Ion and Tor that only by combining their strength were they able to hold off the invaders. You surface dwellers think that it was this alliance that destroyed the demon army, but we underfolk know better.”

“The allied army was only able to hold the demons at bay long enough for a secret enclave of magi to permanently close off the gateways between our world and theirs, trapping the demons here. For the demon’s Generals this was just a nuisance that kept them from returning home, but for the lesser evils this was a death sentence. These demons were now mortal. When the gateways closed their flesh was made whole in this world. Now when the blades of man bit into their skin it was real. No longer were they merely banished: they were destroyed. Forever.” Ander saw Pack’s eyes grow wide; he imagined the bard was already composing the tale of The Heroes of Icemist and How They Defeated the Demon Tree.

“When the rank and file of the demon’s army realized this, they panicked: soon the threat of final death from the armies of Ion and Tor had them in retreat. The Generals gathered what was left of their armies and fled deep into the heart of the world, for what purpose, no one knows. This demon was once a part of that army, but unlike the others he did not escape the war without wounds: wounds that would not heal.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ander caught Ashrem stroking his cheek, tracing the scars beneath his hood. “In an act of desperation he merged with this tree, feeding on its energy and trying to heal his wounds. For now it acts as his prison. Soon it will give birth to a new body for him. If you strike now, while it is still weak, you might have a chance to kill it.”

“How weak is it?” Aurora asked.

“Although I don’t know what it was like before it fused with the tree, I know that it was more powerful than it is now.”

Ander picked up the questioning, “What are its weak spots then?”

“It can’t move. It does retain some of its magic, though, so you can’t just sit back and shoot it: not that it would do any good. Its bark is as hard as steel, but once you cut away this layer of protection it is still just a tree. It can be burned.”

Pack’s voice seemed very quiet and small. “So what you are saying is we have to get in close and then cut away its bark and then light it on fire?”

“That would be your best course of action, but remember it will have twig blights to aid it, and it can create more of them.”

Ander saw all eyes turn on him, and the woodsman knew it was time. “Okay. Theo - you and I will be in charge of dealing with the blights; your flail and my staff have the best chance to destroy them. Ashrem, you and Pack have to find a way to get through its bark so that Aurora can roast it. Meanwhile Aurora, you need see if your missiles can cut through the tree’s hide. Otherwise help Theo and I until you are needed. We’ll also be counting on you for any help against whatever magic this thing has.”

“One last thing,” Balsag remarked as he turned to leave. “Belak had a large frog, about the size of a hound. I did not see it during your earlier battle so it must still be around. I will be back when the battle is done, and then I will fulfill my part of our bargain.” The goblin moved nearly silently away, back the way the companions had come.

Ander eyed each of his companions, and saw in their face a determination he had not seen before. Even the kobold Meepo shared their fire, almost as if he understood what was about to happen. The ranger fixed his gaze on Theo. “Brother Theo, with your blessing?”

The aged cleric smiled grimly and prayed in a whispered voice that matched his eyes. “Lord Zuras, tempest and the storm, grant us your might to strike our enemies without mercy for their deeds, but not without compassions for their victims. Let our steel be the thunder of your voice even as our arms are the lightning of your retribution.” Ander felt a prickling on the back of his neck, as if lightning were about to strike. “My friends, let us speak for all those that no longer have a voice because of this demon!”

The woodman’s blood boiled in anticipation, and he felt as if his skin was on fire. It was time.

“Let’s hunt.”

*****

Next Time:

"The More the Merrier," or "More Fuel for the Fire!"





You're stupid...

Excellent, glad you are back. Hope everything is beeing sorted out at home so your avid readers can get their fix again

Very interesting read, I've seen this module played in a couple of stories before, but this is by far the most believable. Love how they scout and plan before the battle, something many parties forget (often with dire consequences).

.Ziggy

I'm glad to see you guys are back in the saddle. I am really looking forward to the next update to see how they handle the demon-tree.

As a side note, I recently made a commitment to get off my creative duff and finish my own story hour. I'm hoping to get a new post up sometime over the course of the weekend. I would be honored if you would care to read it at your convenience and give any commentary you feel appropriate. Of course I understand if time is tight right now with family concerns for Enk.

But the rest of you have no excuse!

BABY PICTURE!

Little Enk is safely in his mother's arms in the next room at this point, and I have a picture for you:

Are you sure that's a human child? Looks rather Gnomish!

He's a cutie. And he looks remarkably unlike Winston Churchill for a newborn.

Our daughter had her picture taken in the hospital and whenever we look at it now we think the caption should be, "You kids get out of my damn yard!". It comes complete with her shaking her little fist.

Fortunately she got over that stage fairly quickly.

Thank you!

Hello everyone. Mrs. Enk here. I just wanted to take the time to thank everyone for thier kind words and encouraging comments during the pass several weeks.

I know that many of you want the boys to spend more time posting and I hope that will pick back up soon.

So once again thank you all very much. Myself and Little Enk are doing just fine and will keep you updated as time goes by.

Re: Thank you!

Mrs. Enk said:

Hello everyone. Mrs. Enk here. I just wanted to take the time to thank everyone for thier kind words and encouraging comments during the pass several weeks.

I know that many of you want the boys to spend more time posting and I hope that will pick back up soon.

So once again thank you all very much. Myself and Little Enk are doing just fine and will keep you updated as time goes by.

Click to expand...

You are very welcome, Mrs. Enk. Congratulations again on the birth of your child.

As for Enk and d'shai posting further updates to the story, of course we are eager, largely due to the fact that your husband has a tremendous writing talent. But we (I think I can speak for everyone ) are also appreciative of what a special time this is for your family. So enjoy and know that whenever the guys get a chance for a story update, the fans will be here.

Give Little Enk a hug from all the gang here at EN World and tell him we said congratulations on having such great parents.

Sincerely,

Rel

Whew! You go to try to update the story hour with an Interlude and the board crashes. Then you finally throw in the towel and post it over at Nutkinland for the truly desperate (read "Rel") and the board comes back up just minutes later.

Hope this whets your appetite - look for the wrap up of Small Beginnings Part 2 sometime early next week, with Part 3 starting soon after!

*****

Interlude


The Shimmering Sword burst through the twig beast, breaking its slight wooden body into still twitching pieces. “How many more?” panted Worm as he wiped cold sweat from his brow.

“Why? Are you tired already?” Abil said as he sidestepped a lunge by the thicket creature he fought. “Your ‘brother’s’ luck must have rubbed off on you, for these are the last of these infernal beasts. Dueca and his pet greenskin cooper must have the other attack contained.” The captain had abandoned his rapier during the first attack: now he wielded a thin but heavy truncheon that darted out and caved in what passed for his foe’s head. He wielded the club just as he did his sword: easily, gracefully, and without working up a sweat – Worm hated him for it. “If we take care of this bunch, we might get back to Lizon’s before the others.”

“Good, then there’ll be more stew for us!” Good food always brightened Worm’s day, especially his mother’s recipes.

“Just the kind of remark I would expect out of a tusk-faced fool. Now move your sword greenskin, not your mouth!” Abil punctuated his remark with another strike to his foe’s chest crumpling what, on a human foe, would have been ribs.

Worm roared in answer, hacking through one of the beasts. In the press, the two warriors had been pushed almost back-to-back. Just one swing – I could say it was an accident. ‘No Reeve, my sword slipped while we were in the fight…’ The half-orc grunted as he swung through another of his foes. No, Lizon wouldn’t believe it for an instant, even if everyone else did.

A sudden nudge unbalanced the large warrior as Abil pushed him aside to fell another knotted invader with a well-placed truncheon blow. “Watch your shield side boy! I won’t fight for the both of us.”

A dozen of the small beasts remained and even though Worm wielded the Shimmering Sword with his massive strength, the half-orc warrior found he was unable to match the skill and precision of the snide sheriff. For every bramble that fell to his mighty swings Abil dropped two, his thin club moving almost unnaturally as it bashed wicker limbs. At one time, Worm was convinced he saw Abil’s weapon in two places at once.

When the last of the twigs fell, Worm stood mopping his brow with the hem of his tunic until Abil interrupted him, “I told Dueca that teaching you was a waste of time - all that strength and not the brains to use it. The runt would be better suited to wield that sword.” With a slow shake of his head the Sheriff turned to leave.

Worm’s blood still boiled from the fray, “Enough!” the giant roared. The young giant was surprised to hear his own voice. He had often daydreamed about confronting Abil, but had somehow always been able to rein in his temper. No, that’s not right. I’m not the one who stopped myself from tearing into that bastard, Pack was...

The nobleman stopped in his tracks and slowly turned toward the young man. “What did you just say, boy?” The sheriff’s usually silky voice had grown a hard and dangerous edge.

“I…” Worm was at a loss. In his daydreams he always had a curse or accusation to throw Abil’s way, but now, when he actually had the opportunity, he didn’t know where to start. “I…”

“You said nothing, boy. It was only the wind on the thicket.” Abil had closed the distance to the larger youth like a cat circling prey. It made Worm uncomfortable. “You said nothing at all. Correct?” The half-orc could tell it wasn’t a question.

Worm held his breath as he thought, What would you do now, little brother? Should I hit him? He deserves it… Worm squeezed his empty hand until the knuckles turned white. But if I do, it might come back on Lizon…

A moment passed without a sound. “I’ll take that as a yes, boy,” Abil advanced until he was almost chest to chest with Worm “But let me tell you something. I’ll speak slowly in order to get it through your thick, green skull.” Abil’s eyes bored into the half-orc’s, even though Abil had to crane his neck skywards to make it happen. “You are a muscle-bound oaf, without sense enough to know how to speak to your betters. If it weren’t for that wench who calls herself your mother, I’d have already thrown you out of this backwater village, back when you pushed over the switching oak. But I tell you this, Lizon or no, if you give me half a reason I’ll see you strung up on the gallows I had made from the tree you wrecked.”

“No Abil, you listen…”

A shadow passed over both men as some nightmare of twig and brush rose from the thicket. It roared, its cries the sound of a broken tree falling to earth, and leapt at the pair. Abil retreated as the mammoth twig beast pursued him, striking ineffectually at its long arms as it closed. Worm felt the sword in his hand snake out and slash the beast, but the blade passed through the outer layers without slowing the monstrosity. Useless!

As large as Worm was, the beast was larger. It was easily twice as broad as the half-orc, and a good head taller. Like all the other twig men, it had arms, legs, and a head, but no face.

Suddenly, the beast pounced on Abil, grabbing the nobleman and bringing him close. Worm could almost hear the sound of ribs cracking as it crushed him as if it were Orloff himself. He hesitated for an instant, and then dropped the Shimmering Sword and leapt onto the giant thicket.

The twig beasts roared again as Worm shoved a hand underneath its arm and pried loose the hold on Abil. “Hit it, damn you, hit it!” Worm saw the sheriff escape from the creatures grip, and begin swinging with his truncheon. One, two, three hits later, the beast batted Abil away, sending him flying through the air.

Worm grunted, Looks like this one is up to me. Worm wrapped his arms and legs around the beast and squeezed. The wood beneath his limbs groaned as the beast toppled to the ground and the wrestling began in earnest.

He had wrestled before, at festival, against the barbarians that came down from the mountains, and he had won. He had fought a dozen drunken louts at the Shimmering Sword, and won. But as the beast began to bring its power and size to bear, he began to feel what it was like to lose.

The beast’s thorns pricked his skin as the raked over his bare arms, and its talons raked at his face. Worm answered by lifting the twig beast off the ground and slamming it into the hard packed earth. He felt the tearing of muscle as he did it.

He had felt the tearing of muscle when he wrestled the barbarian champion, yet he had fought through the pain and used his strength. The barbarians had called him the Dragon because of it – the Wyrm. He had won that fight, I AM THE WYRM!, and he would win this one.

Worm drove the beast into the ground, ignoring the barbs stuck in his skin as it thrashed to get free. Then Abil was there, hammering blow after blow into the beast’s head until it collapsed and tore away, exposing a pulpy heart beneath it. “Kill the thrice-damned thing!” Worm heard himself groan. Abil struck one last time, cracking the woody organ.

Worm stood up after extricating himself from the unmoving pile of brush. He brushed himself his arms clear of thorns, and bent over to retrieve the Shimmering Sword. When he rose, Abil stood before him.

The nobleman stood silently for a moment. Worm wondered if he planned on continuing their argument. “We should get back to the inn,” the sheriff said, looking first at the woody corpse and then at Worm, “yes, we should get back.” Then the smaller man wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his brow and turned quickly away.

Worm watched as the smaller man walked quickly away. He’s afraid of it still. Why? It’s not like… No, that’s not it. The realization hit Worm like a warm ray of sunshine. He’s afraid of me. I could get used to this, if anyone were here to share it with.

I wish Pack was here…


*****