Each was a bit odd, but not exactly someone who could carve a name out for themselves on the basis of their own power. At least not at this point in their careers.
As the dawn caused them to pack up their tents and ready for the day's journey, more than one pondered whether there was actually anyone else in this forest.
Sinda splashed water on her face and stretched out. She still felt a little weak but was all right. Then her gaze fell upon the silver-furred beast in her camp area.
She felt her eyes clouding up with tears, so unfamiliar to her race, and wondered at what she had found.
In the society she was born to, betrayal was common. Cruelty the norm. Anything "soft" was to be excised from the individual or the society. The altars of Lolth ran slick with the blood of those who failed their demon goddess.
To have someone watch your back without question, to be able to trust completely in another - it was unthinkable. Only a slave bound with the strongest of spells could be trusted and only so long as they remained bound.
Spiders fed on each other all the time. Their births were marked by an orgy of feasting in which their weaker brethren were the menu items. Some species had the mother as the first meal for the swarm. Spider motifs ran the length and breadth of drow culture and society. This was part and parcel of those who followed Lolth.
So just the ideas embodied within the friend who had stood guard over her during her "illness" with no clear profit to himself - it caused her throat to tighten and a tide of unfamiliar feelings to sweep over her. She could not name these odd things, alien to her upbringing, but they made her feel oddly content.
Pewter's eyes followed her briefly before he stretched and prepared to leave. Obviously she was feeling better and more capable now and he ought to get back to his own cave.
"...think this way..."
Pewter slunk off into the bushes and settled down to watch.
The first through the brush was a tall elf. Unusually tall, at least six feet in height. Long hair, burnished blue armor, and a bastard sword resting over one shoulder. "Whoa. Hey! I found her!"
"About time," complained a feline looking woman.
"Do I smell some sort of roasting meat?" asked a redhaired elf woman as she followed the catgirl.
"Are we sure she's the right dark elf?" asked a halfling as she entered the clearing.
"Has to be, there's nobody else on this island," pointed out the tall swordself.
"Hello. I am Sindarekajaille Vekthira, call me Sinda. I am a paladin of Tyr." Sinda tried to salute them, using a drow salute.
"Oh!" The halfling seemed to practically quiver to attention. "Could it be that you are a champion of Justice?!"
"That is indeed my goal," acknowledged Sinda.
"Oh great, now there's two of them," complained the redhead.
The kender quickly posed. "Amelia Thistleburr! Cleric of Paladine currently serving the local god of justice, Tyr! Let us smite the enemies of justice with the fists of righteousness!"
"I'd rather use a sword," pointed out Sinda.
"Works for me," said the catgirl. "Hmmm. I smell something... odd."
"Could one hope it is lunch?" asked the swordelf.
"Doubt it. Hello, Sinda. I'm M'reth, a sort of urban scout." The catgirl looked over the campsite. "You must be a newbie too."
"This is my first adventure, and I haven't been on the Surface World for very long," admitted Sinda.
"You any good with that sword?" asked the redhead.
"Good enough," indicated Sinda.
"We'll see, I suppose. I'm the infamous sorceress Lena Stormverse. You've met Amelia, M'reth, and the big guy is Gorran Goldmane. Or, as we've heard - a kender cleric, a mithra thief, and an elven blademaster who had an unfortunate encounter with a Deck Of Many Things."
"I'm sure the deck was stacked," grumbled Gorran.
"They usually are," agreed Sinda. "Well met then. What of our next stop?"
"That bard guy said this would work once we found you," said Gorran, going through his pack. "Now where did I put it?"
"Don't tell me you lost it?!" Lena looked like she was about ready to reach for spell components.
"No, here it is," said Gorran as he put a statue out in the center of the clearing.
Go ye south by two days march to the river vale,
Follow that to the west by one day's march to find a misty dale,
There within the fortress town, the pony prances by,
Ask the barkeep, he will know, the danger in the sky.
This message will self-destruct in thirty seconds.
"Why couldn't he just give us a damn map," complained Lena.
"Because he was a minstrel, not a mapmaker?" tried Gorran.
The mithra purr-chuckled. "He's got a point, remember what happened when we tried to follow his map to the docks?"
"Yeah, we ended up in an orc bar," said Amelia.
"Well, this time will be different," said Lena. "Because this time we've got TWO fighters to keep thugs off the spellcasters."
"We did that time too, but the dwarf begged off our journey because he said he had the gout," pointed out Amelia.
"He wasn't a fighter, Amelia. He was a sorcerer of some kind and not a very good one," said Lena. "Fortunately I know how to interpret -"
Pewter shook his head as several of the adventurers got blown off their feet by the statue blowing up.
Meanwhile:
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(Posted Fri, 14 May 2004 10:11)
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