Delightful.


Daven smiled as he re-read the words he scrawled in his leather bound tome concerning their confrontation with the hill giant earlier. Finally these adventurers were living up to their namesake and had found something worthy of his attentions, ever more worthy of his telling about in the next inn or tavern the happened upon. Such a telling might even see him chambered up with a local girl or one of the barmaids who so often made calf eyes at him during his recitations of older stories.

The party had decided to make camp a littler earlier this night, the wandering wagon train had been met on the forest road by a paladin who claimed to be in the service of Lord Rego. Daven was unsure about the man, even more unsure about this group and their willingness to allow any passerby to join with them or share their fire. True, the knight had simply asked to share a meal and their camp for the night but paladin’s always make Daven’s skin crawl, something to do with their…goody goodyness.



Daven stared at the man from across the fire whilst he finished his evening meal. For some reason the paladin had focused all of his attentions on Aran and seemed to be drilling the man for answers of some sort. Every time Aran replied to one of the paladins queries the knights face seemed to darken; whatever he heard he clearly did not like the answers Aran was giving him, or perhaps it was the way Aran answered the questions instead.

Daven jumped, the contents of his dinner plate sent flying through the air as a loud yell erupting from the paladins’ mouth. “Fine!” The knight screamed, flinging his plate to the ground and then stood, taking a few steps back away from the party and the fire. “If you won’t answer me truthfully, I’ll eat your heart!” Each word become more bestial as he spoke, until the last word was barely more than a growl.

The chainmail armor the paladin has been wearing slipped off of him and pooled into a heap at the ground beneath his feet. His face contorted and his jaws elongated, sharp fangs and claws grew out from his mouth and hands in an impossibly short amount of time. White fur erupted all across his body, like a wave crashing against rocks, muscles bulged and stretched, ripping what remained of his clothing like wet paper and exposing hardened fur covered flesh that looked as resilient as any plate and mail.



The were-wolf threw its head back and howled a long shrieking cry that pierced the night and echoed off the trees. After the howl ended the thing leveled its gaze on the party, yellow hunting eyes glinting dangerously from the light cast by the fire separating them.

Suddenly shapes began to move through the forest edge. Several grey wolves began to pad out into the open, moving to surround the party and the campsite. Two more massive figures moved out behind them as well, Kavaki squinted to identify what the shapes could possibly be and his eyes widened for a brief moment while recognition settled in. “Dire. Bear and wolf. Together.”

Daven said nothing; he simply reached into his leather backpack slowly as to not garner any unwanted attention. Slowly, ever so slowly, he retrieved his book, quill and ink, he then began to transcribe what was going on all around him.

~~~~



It seemed like hours had passed to Kavaki, but as he looked up into the night sky he could see the moon and stars had barely even shifted. He grunted and suppressed a wince as he took a deep breath in an attempt to gain his second wind. He touched his chest lightly then raised his hand to look at it, dark wet blood glinted silently on his fingers. "Cursed." He breathed, unbelieving "I'm...cursed."

"You'll be fine." Aran said, wiping his blade on the already cooling corpse of the were-creature, then inspected it in the moonlight before sheathing it. "Drowwmann however..." The rogue cast a glance at the drow laying on the ground with his chest ripped completely open, organs spilling out in a wide pool all around him and eyes completely glazed over and staring up at nothing. "I think...is dead."

Suddenly, a bright flash exploded from the corpse of Drowwman, Aran, Kavaki and the others forced to shield their eyes from the sudden radiance. Long moments passed before vision returned, and everybody stood staring in disbelief as Drowwman stood before them, gaunt and naked as the day he was born...and yet something was different about him.

Drowwman looked around blinking disbelieving for a moment before he spoke; "All these long years and finally I'm free."

"Your not Drowwman." Kavaki said, "Who- what are you?"

The man smiled, then opened his mouth to speak.

Daven tossed some sand onto the wet black ink of his already drying words and pressed his thumb onto the stopper held by a string tied neatly around the neck of the ink bottle to secure it. Both actions were performed as deftly as he could manage whilst being tossed about like a rag doll on the thrice damned ill used game trail that somebody in this party had called a road. These fools should count themselves lucky that he had such a flowery tongue and could spin this persistently dreary camping trip with swords into something more lavish and entertaining.



The first night he had stayed with them wolves came nipping at the heels of the horses, with the largest of them attempting to gather the attention of the hero's while the smaller pack members tried to take a bite out of horse flesh. Unfortunately for the mangy animals adventures were not a stupid as common folk, and the wolves were quickly driven off by a few choice words from Boris and a little bit of fire. That was the short of it, one tiny encounter with the local fauna and then nothing but an endless canyon of pine trees that flanked them on both sides of the small river that cut through the woods.

Daven had heard many of the rumors of these lands and none had saw fit to rear its ugly head as of yet. He heard stories of forest giants, roving bands of rogue wizards, even a fanciful tale of a red dragon named Cinder that was told to have kidnapped a cabal of dwarven clerics and took him deep into his mountain lair to serve him. Men that turned into wolves by night and howled at the moon, and if they bit you, then you became one of them and thirsted for the blood of “the two-legs”. It all sounded so exciting to him, but the reality was the stories he had heard from other troubadours were…quite plainly…false.

It was at that moment that irony decided to strike. A loud sawing sound like that of branches being broken was carried to the party on the wind blowing through the trees. Kavaki immediately called a halt to the wagon train then strained to listen more carefully to the awkward sound. The sound came again…then nothing…then again, in a slow rhythmic fashion.

“Hill Giant.” The Goliath said, casting quick glances through the trees to attempt to locate where the sound might be generating from. “We could probably sneak past without it noticing. They tend to sleep like bears in winter.”

Davens mood immediately brightened at the mention of one of the fables giants from the legends he’d heard about, and then visibly darkened once Kavaki suggested they bypass the creature without confrontation. “It wouldn’t hurt to take a look.” Aran suggested, “if only to see what the beast might have in the way of possessions.”



Kavaki’s pupil-less eyes leveled on the rouge. If the look the goliath gave him un-nerved him at all Aran made no outward expression of it. He simply met Kavaki’s gaze stare for state.

Abruptly Kavaki nodded. “Then let it be so. Only a few of us should go. Otherwise we might wake the beast.” He drew his khopesh and pointed east. “The sounds come from there.”

Before he knew it Kavaki, Aran, Drowwman, and Boris were stalking up through the trees towards the sound. Well, stalking may have been a generous way to explain what the sword-mage and the cleric were doing. Rattling pots and pans like a common hobbit was closer to a better description. Before he could silence them however the snoring abruptly ceased and Kavaki along with the others froze in mid-step. Nothing but the wind howled through the trees from what seemed like hours, until the enormous thundering crash of a gigantic humanoid running over the trees emerged not twenty paces in front of them.

“I can smell you little men…” the giant bellowed, its voice exploding down upon them like thunder crashing through the skies. The creature swatted several tress aside and leaned its head down to mock the heroes. “…and you smell like fear!”



Before any of them could react the hill giant ripped a tree from out of the ground and swung it in a wide arc out in front of itself. The blow caught Kavaki, Boris and the sword-mage squarely. Aran somehow managed to jump onto the makeshift club and then leapt off of it just as quickly, taking little damage from scratches imposed by the thick braches still protruding from the trunk like quills.

Back at the wagons Nymeria pulled her hood up and melted into the shadows while Digense tnede dto the now panicked horses that were straining to break free from their reins and bolt off into the forest. Daven had his journal open and was writing frantically, only glancing up from his work occasionally to see which direction the fight was going.

Wyverns. Somehow they always reminded me of dragons, only much smaller and usually crankier, perhaps a bit gamier to the tongue. Worse luck I a pack of them harried me through the mountain passes south of the ever burning fire forest of Innentodar. I dared a glance back, and my pursuers were closing the gap fast close enough now that I could make out the wyverns had Orc riders and even a rather largest and brutish wyvern carried an Ogre! I gritted my teeth and urged my feet for more speed; I just had to reach the town, to warn the villagers about what was coming.




I mean the nerve of those sickly, stinky, putrid, puss infested, ugly, buck-toothed… Daven looked up from his work and sighed heavily. “I can’t seem to concentrate tonight.” He said, setting his quill and journal down beside him.

“That’s because you’re full of hot air.” Nymeria said, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she stared off into the darkness. “Stop breathing and see if it cures.”

Daven opened his mouth to speak at the stupidity her comment suggested until he realized what the e women as playing at, he then promptly closed it with an audible clicking of teeth. Drowmann sat looking out into the darkness as well, although he kept watch from a perch high in the trees that their camp nestled against. “Best not anger that one.” He said, his gaze never leaving their surroundings as he spoke down to the bard. “You do once, and you’ll find her dagger sticking out of your back.” Daven snorted and reached into his backpack. I have heard worse threats from drunken cavern guards and walls soldiers than that, if you truly wish to scare me then you make a poor show of it friend.



Drowmann broke his gaze from scanning the horizon at that point, fixing them pointedly on the bard; soft golden light shimmered off of them as he stared coldly and plainly into his eyes. Daven said nothing he simply swallowed hard and spared a glance for Nymeria who kept silent during the exchange but smiled softly to herself, as if remembering a joke she had once heard.

Laying his bedroll out Daven pointedly made sure he kept far away from where the assassin was keeping watch, Drowmann as well for that matter.