In the Time of Aun Tanau - A Meeting in the Forest
The days in Dereth seem troubled of late. People seem uneasy and gossip and conjecture are common with wives shopping the streets, shopkeepers along avenues, and adventurers in taverns.
"Aun Tanau this, Aun Tanau that. What does it mean? How could such a thing be? But I see his point, . . . what if . . . but couldn't it be . . . shouldn't this be done . . . this is what is wrong I say . . . I told people so."
And then of course there are the recent appearances of "Aspects" in Dereth.
And on it goes with rumor and conjecture itself grown to be fuel for each of their days. I find at times like these I head to the forests to hunt. Butchery is a favored pastime for this Ranger.
As I check my pack before recalling to the Hero Star in Arramora, I note the two Greater Fate cards I had recently made: Destruction and Eternal Flame. The two cards now appear very different. The artwork is still present, but they now glow gently in the depth of the night, and the artwork is almost like looking through a window with clarity and depth not previously apparent.
I recall meeting the Fortune Teller in Cavendo this morning. Tall and poised, an attractive woman of what appeared to be middling years, I stood to the side observing as she served her customers, listening carefully to what was being said to each at her open-aired booth off the bridges to downtown Cavendo. Apparently my observations did not go unnoticed, because during a lull in her stream of customers while looking down at a stack of cards she was shuffling, she said, "So, do you see here what you are seeking?"
I hesitated a moment, and on a whim answered with "I don't know that I was looking for anything in particular, but the looking is not unpleasant."
With a bright laugh she looks up and says, "What a charming fellow! Come have a seat, some tea, and more flattery please. I even have something here for your Lasher . . ."
From that time this morning with her over tea I learned a bit of the cards, and can now find the keys between them, binding them together. With those "melds" Lesser Fates as well as the ability to make Greater Fates is now possible. And the Fortune Teller? I found her most interesting. Different in some respect, even taking into account the "mystery" of her profession. As I left her stall with a polite bow, she bid me goodbye with a quiet "May the Flame of your convictions be Eternal, equal to the Fire of another."
Now, nearly noon on the outskirts of Cavendo, I place the two Greater Fates back into my pack and trigger Arramora Recall. I'm looking forward to hunting the Arramoran forests, now quite familiar to me. As the Recall takes hold, I step forward . . .
. . . to the green grass surrounding the Arramora Star.
As is often the case, it is a bright, sunny day here on this tiny island in the middle of the river. Sunlight sparkles off the water both to the east and west, the current of the river divided by this small island rising in it's middle. Nearby other adventurers are dotted about the grass, some moving to the ringways nearby, and of course there is the Star, bobbing about in its open, stone "cathedral".
My goal however is to the west, across the river to the forests of West Arramora. Deep and green, they are a favorite hunting ground for butchery. Familiar territory to me now, I've also learned what else lives there. Deadly things that often take their toll of newcomers too careless or proud to exercise caution when new to Arramora, also known as Hero Island.
Crossing the river and moving into the forest I begin hunting. Using my Venge War Bow, as well as my Lasher Cujo, I soon enter the rhythms of hunting Thornling Torturers and Harrassers, Crones, Shock Reapers, Effigy Spawn, Mosswarts, and Olthoi Harvesters. I will be moving to areas where Olthoi Drones, Nymphs, as well as Burun Rangers lurk, and with butchery a primary goal and a new knife to burn out I'm enjoying the hunt! Cujo is doing quite well nowadays, even taking down Olthoi Drones without dying, aided by Toughen Hide and Symbiosis.
And, I've learned to pay close attention to the forest around me. Surprises on Arramora only rarely come in ones.
Crossing a hill I move down into a fairly large heavily wooded valley bracketed on 3 sides by tall hills. With sunlight filtering down to the forest floor through the canopy overhead, I move forward through the trees to dispatch a Shock Reaper lurking nearby. I lead with Sinew Snap, followed by Envenom, both arrows streaking into the spear-throwing Reaper, and he dies with a snarling Lasher on top of him. However, as I start to loot the Reaper's corpse I see something up ahead on the forest floor. I can see a lone, anonymous corpse amongst the trees. This is unusual, and in all my time hunting these woods have never encountered it's like before.
Now, when hunting familiar territory and encountering something unusual, it is always best to pay attention. A corpse all by itself is not normal, and suggests something alive and responsible is nearby. The last time I encountered a corpse in this forest, recognizable as that of an adventurer, I was nearly killed by the Hivekeeper Leader and his band of minions who had done the deed as I moved forward to investigate.
This corpse however is unnamed, anonymous.
I ensure Cujo is fully buffed and drift forward through the trees, looking carefully for unpleasant surprises. All is quiet however, the peace of the forest undisturbed by hostile movement. With an itch tickling the back of my neck I move up to the corpse and examine it. I find a Torn Letter from what had been a follower of Aun Tanau on the corpse!
Well, bother! Hmph. I take another look around, but see nothing unusual. However, I'm both perturbed and interested that I've encountered tangible evidence of Aun Tanau's presence, here in the forests of Arramora where I hunt.
It appears this hunting expedition may be more interesting than I had anticipated.
I return to the rhythms of the hunt, paying particular attention to my surroundings. My memories of encountering a Ranger Leader and his band for the first time are clear, and I do not wish to be surprised. Soon, atop a wooded hill I find another anonymous corpse, this one carrying a Stained Diary. Taking a moment to lean back against a tree I leaf through the Diary noting that all may not be completely well for those who have followed the Tumerok Warlord. Putting the Stained Diary in my pack I take a moment to fully buff Cujo again, and ensure my Venge War Bow is ready. Though I've not encountered anything beyond lone corpses, the undeniable presence of Aun Tanau's influence in remote Arramora is disturbing to me.
Another half an hour passes as I move through the forests I enjoy so much. Moving from tree to tree, from forested valley to wooded hilltop, I continue taking down opponents with arrow and Lasher, gathering one-by-one portions of Hide, Sinew, Bone, Tallow, and Chitin.
And then, moving down the slope of a hill, changing direction to avoid two Acid Spurts floating in the forest, their flickering green glow lighting the trees they are near, I see that which is new to these forests and very dangerous:
At the base of the hill, in something of a clearing, is another corpse surrounded by three warriors: A Sage and a Ranger, both level 65, and a level 70 Zealot, all appearing to be Aun Tanau Fanatics. I'm still uphill among the trees, and I drift forward carefully, looking to understand what it is that I'm seeing. Are they protecting the corpse for some reason, or, based on some of what I've read in the Torn Letter and Stained Diary, did these one-time comrades of the fallen exact a dire punishment for some reason?
Still unobserved, I crouch next to a tree taking stock of their weapons as Cujo settles in next to me. With a grim feeling I note that not only are all of my potential opponents several, if not many levels higher than I am, the weapons they carry are terribly potent. Frankly, I've never seen their like before. I carry a rare Lore 90 Venge War Bow enhanced with all four Mirra. While a wonderful weapon imbued with Lilitha's Blessing, capable of inflicting 346 - 381 in damage, a Barbed Arrow bleed, the fire DoT from the Rouge Mirra, as well as Shadow Blade which I've recently applied, my Fanatic Ranger counterpart below carries a Kytara Crystal bow capable of inflicting 693 in damage + Envenom. The Sage, and certainly the Zealot who is another 5 levels above his partners, carry weapons of fearsome potency as well. The Fanatic Ranger is of interest to me initially, as he would be the first danger in a contest of arms. I see no Lasher however, and am curious about that. The Sage appears to have an aggressive stance, as opposed to the humble posture of a "healer", and I have the feeling the muscular Lugian should not be underestimated. Lastly, the Zealot appears to be the most potent of the three, and it's clear he is the leader of this group.
Rubbing Cujo's head absentmindedly I ponder what it is I intend. None of the warriors below has done me any wrong, but the more I observe their conduct around the corpse, the more I'm convinced murder has been done here, even if in the name of "justice".
It is then the situation is made clear to me. What I could not see up until now was some kind of book or document in the Zealot's hand. With a sudden, violent snap of his wrist the book is tossed away into the brush, and I hear the Zealot snarl, "You would question the service of Aun Tanua for THESE reasons?! The true voice of Order! Unworthy! Unworthy! And so you've paid the price for your cowardice, your lack of conviction, of loyalty! Shadow will find no root within the ranks of our fellowship!"
And it gives me no comfort to hear "Aye" and "Well spoken" drift up to me through the trees and brush from the others in response.
Now, cowardice or lack of loyalty are not to be applauded nor rewarded, but the contents of the Torn Letter, as well as the Stained Diary I had found on the previous two bodies offered a view into the ranks of Aun Tanau's followers heretofore unknown. Good men and women following a leader they had always followed, who, in spite of their past loyalty and service where disturbed by the unforgiving spirit that has spread from Aun Tanua to many of the warriors who follow him. A sense that Aun Tanau is not quite himself these days.
Taking a careful breath I stand, and keeping in the shadows of a tree-trunk speak out, "His crime must have been very dire".
The three below go very still as my voice drifts down to them through the trees. The Fanatic Ranger seems to be the first to identify most closely where I might be, his head swiveling to look in my direction, but it is the Zealot who replies with, "Who asks?"
Moving carefully to a different tree I reply with "A hunter. The woods seem a-clutter today with bodies . . ."
I hear a contemptuous chuckle come from the Fanatic Ranger as he says; "It's a Ranger hunting rabbits in the woods, likely with his Lasher as well."
The Zealot says, "We serve the True Voice of Order, Aun Tanau. The matter here is none of your concern. Come forward and join us and we can tell you of our cause, a cause important to all of Dereth!"
Now, while I enjoy romping for long periods of time in the wilds, including the occasional bath in a stream or lake, I'm not a backwoods bumpkin new to the city, ready to take the advice of the friendly fellow on the street who's trying to show me a place to have a really good time, right over here in this dark alley . . .
"I think I'll stay here for the moment, no offense intended. Why not tell me of what has happened here, and of your cause? He must have done something quite foul to warrant death within the ranks of Order. Was it by your hands?", I say, shifting again to another tree as I stop speaking. What I find interesting is there really is no movement from them, no attempt to move my way. Utterly confident in themselves and their abilities, they apparently feel no need to flush me out from my position among the trees on the hillside above them.
"Foul? Foul? Yes, foul indeed. A good choice in a word." says the Zealot, with a disturbing undertone to his voice. "Foulness, how does it start Ranger? Does it not always start small, and then grow? A rot at first tiny, grown to corrode all around it? Discipline, loyalty, Order! These are the tenants of Aun Tanau! All else is Shadow and despair! We guard the tenants of Order; and that is our duty and our charge! To doubt, to falter, to let the fire of your conviction falter is to betray your purpose, is to betray The Master!"
And, like the stream of water leaping free of an overturned bucket, the Zealot goes on for a bit, his words laced with passion, but also at times disjointed, repeating the same arguments again and again, until finally he ends with, " . . . loyalty is necessary, is inevitable, just like death and decay. That is our duty, even before friends and family! All who serve The Master know this, unlike this one who dared to doubt Aun Tanau, who missed his family . . ."
The last statement catches my attention, mostly due to the manner in which it was spoken: contemptuous and cold, as well as the intermixing of "Aun Tanau" and "The Master" during his speech. I've never heard of a warrior addressing their leader in that way, and, frankly, the Tumerok simply sounded . . . disturbed. This, more than anything, caused a deep-seated feeling of unease to uncoil in my gut.
"And his crime warranting death?", I ask, keeping near to a tree.
Though downhill a bit, I could still see a look of disbelief cross the Tumerok's face at my inability to understand the "truth" just spoken.
"Kill him", the Tumerok states flatly. However, instinct had warned me of the likely outcome, and before the last word is out of his mouth I've drifted back through the trees, carefully instructing Cujo to follow. Strangely, the chase is short. The Ranger and Sage near my last position and simply stop, returning to the Zealot, no doubt unhappy at the escape of a victim.
Now, several minutes later, I've returned to a position above them on the hill. Though in name Order, the ones below have proven they are in fact murderers. Murderers multiple times by the corpses scattered through the woods, for reasons only fathomable by cutthroats.
I ready Cujo, casting Toughen Hide and Symbiosis, and gazing carefully at the Fanatic Ranger below me, at full range, let fly with Sinew Snap, Envenom, and Lilitha's Vengeance! Cujo is instantly off, rushing the Ranger who is now pivoting my way. Sinew Snap has missed, as has Envenom, but Lilitha's Vengeance has hit!
It's then I fully understand what I've taken on, with three opponents several levels higher than I: Cujo, worthy Lasher that he is, dies almost instantly as the Ranger, Sage, and Zealot attack him together. Fully buffed, on Toughen Hide and Symbiosis, he is dropped having only launched two attacks at the Ranger.
Unpleasant, disturbed laughter comes to me as I resummon my Lasher. Appearing out of the air next to me, Cujo is again with me.
Again I try, targeting the Ranger. This time calling Cujo back for a moment, looking to draw the Fanatic Ranger forward of his fellows. And, it works; though not precisely in the manner I had planned. The Ranger, not having a waist-high, snarling Lasher rushing him, returns fire from his Bow. The first shot misses, but the second and third strike me with terrible force, for nearly 850 in damage. I quickly dodge behind a tree to heal as Cujo rushes forward to engage. The Ranger has started up the hill my way, and I need to recover quickly.
Quickly stepping out from the tree I loose Sinew Snap and Lilitha's Vengeance. They both hit! Though he has lasted longer, Cujo by now dies a second time just as Lilitha's Vengeance leaves my bow, streaking down to the Fanatic Ranger in a glowing bolt of fury. It is then I understand the real danger to this Ranger who uses no Lasher: Though down the hill a bit yet, I see a look of fury cross his face as Lilitha's Vengeance strikes him squarely. Time seems to slow between the two of us as the 'animal' part of my mind sees his stance shift, his body turn, and the puff of breath that pops forth from the lungs as he executes the Ranger Hero Attack: Rain of Arrows!
Luck was with me in that moment. I was paying attention. In my mind's eye time speeds up to normal as I shift to the right desperately, just as his first shot leaves his bow. In rapid succession five arrows leap free of his bow with powerful, snapping force. The first shoots past my left shoulder, the second whickers past my left ear, and the remaining three strike the tree I've moved behind with a rapid THOCK-THOCK-THOCK, echoing in the woods like a carpenter's mallet striking wood.
Sighing quietly, I note the Ranger has returned to his fellows. Such odd behavior, though fortunate for me it appears. I rest a few moments to heal, and continue to wait a few important minutes more so I can resummon Cujo.
Below I hear unpleasant muttering. I can see the Ranger has moved back near the Zealot, perhaps to discuss his exchange with me, leaving the Sage as the closest. Taking stock of an opportunity to pull the Sage further forward of his fellows I launch Sinew Snap, Envenom, and Lilitha's Vengeance. All three hit! However, the Sage is not nearly as damaged as I would have hoped. Cujo is rushing forward, and I continue to fire arrows, judging their effect on this opponent. Fortune is with me, and apparently neither the Zealot nor Ranger feel the need to assist their companion, who, as soon as he was struck, began moving my way.
Sages often have a reputation as "just healers". However, facing any Lugian of sufficient levels requires care, for they are a powerful race. The Sage focuses on Cujo first, having only closed to perhaps 50m. I quickly launch Hunter's Intuition, which strikes him squarely delivering a severe blow. A grim smile crosses my face as I see his movements are slow, sluggish, Envenom wrapping his limbs in heavy folds of lethargy.
To my surprise, even though slowed, the Sage kills Cujo. I've continued to attack and have delivered significant damage to my opponent. Turning my way, manic rage in his face, the Sage begins his run to me up the hill. I've managed to conserve my energy during the exchange and I launch another round of Sinew Snap and Lilitha's Vengeance, both of which strike. Just as the Sage comes into range himself, striking me solidly with a bolt of force from his scepter, I snap off a last shot of Hunter's Intuition.
The Sage dies, dropping to his knees and falling forward to the forest floor. I'm disturbed by the encounter, for, though I was victorious, the Sage clearly had the advantage in power, and it was wielded with an almost utter disregard for pain. His killing of Cujo fairly quickly, on his own, also an indication this Sage was not to be underestimated.
As I rest, contemplating my next move, I find a knot of anger has solidified in my stomach. Something that is, strangely enough, different and deeper than the more obvious "rage" against an opponent in a fight. Through all of these exchanges there is the undeniable sense of something WRONG with those below me. As the Sage fell to his knees the look on his face was both awful and odd at the same time.
Looking at the two remaining below, neither of which have come to help their former comrade, I realize it is the Ranger who must be next. If I cannot kill the Ranger who is level 65, then there is no point in attempting to attack the Zealot who is level 70. Since I am level 59 I still have my work cut out for me.
Summoning Cujo yet again I step to what I believe to be an advantageous position and begin my attack. Sinew Snap, Envenom, and Lilitha's Vengeance streak out to the Ranger below as Cujo rushes forward to engage. The Ranger reacts instantly, sending arrows my way just as Cujo engages. I manage to dodge one arrow, but just as I'm struck badly by another. . .
. . . Arramora itself shows it's hand. For those reading this tale, remember my earlier words? Surprises on Arramora rarely come in ones?
An Acid Spurt flutters into being behind me just a bit, or perhaps drifted my way through the trees. I'm suddenly struck twice by the malicious sprite; it's acid dealing pain and damage. I hear Cujo die below me, the whicker of arrows through the brush coming my way, and am struck again by the Acid Spurt.
I run.
I run through the trees, back up the hill, the Acid Spurt following. I'm hurt badly and quickly cast a heal, and then dodge some more. Just as the Acid Spurt strikes me again I manage to loose Envenom. It hits, and the spurt, hissing and sighing in muffled pain, is slowed. I cast additional heals on myself, and now with a little distance between us resummon Cujo.
Acid Spurts are known to me, and this one is destroyed, fluttering to the ground in an amphorous/misty mass.
I take stock of my surroundings as I recover, and note my attention may have been too fully focused on the Fanatics. Several Acid Spurts, not to mention a couple of Shock Reapers and Thornlings are lurking about, bracketing the area I had been, essentially penning in my area of movement if rushed by my opponents. Moving from one to the other I eliminate threats that may, unintentional or no, aid my quarry during a fight.
I move back to a spot above my opponents, and, among those trees on the hillside again begin the attack on the Ranger. The behavior of the Zealot continues to be odd, simply watching his fellow move forward to engage me, not helping a bit.
The Fanatic Ranger again looses Rain of Arrows at me, but now knowing this warriors "finishing move", I'm able to dodge the volley of arrows with a fast slide to the left. As he runs toward me up the hill he is struck by Hunter's Intuition twice, though I've been hurt as well during the exchange, his arrows striking me with deadly force, the "Envenom" effect bleeding my body of health. As Cujo dies he continues to move my way. Apparently I've angered him enough that he's not willing to simply return to the Zealot this time.
I quickly cast a heal, and dance back to gain some distance putting a couple of trees between us. I'm nearly hit twice, but manage to duck. Weaving among the trees the Fanatic Ranger attempts to close to a closer distance as I trade arrows with him. I note he is actually hurt very badly, but suddenly see he has begun to heal himself as well.
Luck is a factor in any fight. The bold, when victorious, are labeled as bold, while those that fail are labeled fools. Strangely, it is often luck that determines which is which.
Stepping quickly into view of the Fanatic Ranger, I shift my body, breath out sharply, and launch Rain of Arrows.
The Fanatic Ranger was very fast. He had not seen that attack from me in our previous dueling, and perhaps assumed I was incapable of it. The look of surprise on his face occurred at the same time his body was in motion, but to no avail: Though he avoided two, three of the five shots strike him with deadly force, and he dies.
I limp carefully back to an observation point on the remaining Zealot, who is muttering and hissing to himself near the corpse he and his companions were responsible for. Pulling forth some food I quietly eat, resting. And watching.
And as I watch, I realize that knot of anger in my gut has grown. Is actually hotter now. The same anger one feels towards another when a crime is actually witnessed. A child beaten, an old woman robbed of her food. Or witnessing murderers wrap their deeds in the camouflage of being loyal to the precepts of "Order", while reveling in the act of murder itself, the ending of a life for no good reason.
"Will you try ME now Ranger?"
I start slightly, hearing the Zealot's words come to me up the hill.
"Return to the soil, rot and decay. A natural thing surely. They weren't worthy apparently, or you would have taken that path, not they. But, I'm not destined for that path, rest assured! I have things to do yet, you won't dissuade me of that! No, no", he says firmly. I also note his handblades are out, and he's lightly swaying from side-to-side, a distinctive Tumerok mannerism when battle is near.
"You've done wrong here. You've killed without reason, and attacked me without provocation. Live or die, I have little choice now", I reply. And, on a whim I finish with a quiet "When did your heart turn from the path of Light?"
Rage contorts his face as he snarls, "Foolish, idiot! I serve The Master completely; there is no questioning my service! I burn each day in that service, the fire of my conviction shall NEVER falter, and you shall PAY for questioning that!"
I loose my arrows at the Zealot rushing up the hillside, and Cujo meets him head on. The Tumerok is frighteningly fast with his handblades, and I reel as some form of magic attack strikes me. Head ringing, a quick flash of chains before my eyes, I step back quickly because I note nearly all my arrows have been evaded, and Cujo is already dead.
Now, Rangers have a few tricks up their sleeves for tight situations. Oftentimes a cloddish "ground thumper" with a sword will manage to close to melee range. Not a particularly advantageous situation for someone who wields a Bow. So, I quickly drop a trap in front of me as I back up, the Zealot now not too far from me.
And, with an evil grin upon his face the Tumerok Zealot manages to step around the trap, sprinting the last few steps to me.
I nearly die in the exchange, the Tumeroks attack stripping me of all but a bit of my health. Fast he is, and level 70, while I only hold title to 59 levels.
And, again, I'm forced to run.
I run past Shock Reapers and Crones, as well as avoiding Acid Spurts, who, if they should take note of me, would likely kill me now in one strike. The Zealot pursues, and nearly catches me once, his hand blades severing brush near my shoulder like a gardener's shears.
Luck is again with me, and I manage to survive. The Zealot gives up his chase with an odd, racking laugh, and returns I assume to the corpse that is now his only company.
I fall next to a tree noting the health still bleeding from my body. Reaching into my pack I find a Bloodstone ichor, and it occurs to me I should have taken this sooner. With a wry smile on my bloody lips I drink the life-giving serum, and rest for a few moments to recover. Head back against the tree I listen to the forest around me, my body slowly gaining strength, and contemplate the fight.
I may not be able to win. The Fanatic Zealot is evading at least half of my arrows. And, as with his companions, the Zealot is extremely hardy, able to take much more damage than other opponents I've faced. That, coupled with his evasion rate, is disheartening.
Then I remember the corpses curled on the ground. Men and women murdered for no reason other than some vague offense to "the true voice of Order". The knot of anger grows hotter. I go back.
As before, the Zealot is waiting, gently swaying side-to-side, seeming to expect my return.
"Again Ranger? I've been waiting. Test me you can, my fire is unquenched, while yours shall gutter . . . OUT!", and he comes for me.
The exchange is much like before, with one minor difference: He fails to avoid the trap this time as he moves past Cujo's corpse. Before he can rip the life from me he is brought up short, his right leg pinned to the ground. I retreat rapidly, blood pouring from my body, and the Zealot shrieks in rage, the sound ripping unnaturally through the forest sending creatures aflutter as he strikes and tugs at the trap locked onto his leg. High and shrill, it's a sound I've never heard from a Tumerok before.
Sometimes, when a path is taken, it cannot be avoided or denied. Part of me is convinced I cannot win, yet I cannot fail either. The Tumerok is clearly mad, a danger to all around him, if not part of something more dangerous.
As I sit among the trees above where the Tumerok is waiting I rest and recover, looking through my pack for forgotten help. I contemplate the stone Tyrants Heart I always keep in a special place. Fafnir. The stone heart is still mostly gray, and I will not be able to summon him for several hours yet. I remember the fight with the Demented Warath upon The Plateau on Arramora, Cujo and the Tyrant Fafnir both holding that fearsome creature at bay, and then finally pulling it down.
I place the slowly reddening Tyrant's Heart into my pack.
My arrows are missing too often, and the Zealot is able to close the distance through Cujo too fast. This, coupled with the creatures in the woods nearby who have gathered again, presents a thorny problem.
It is the vision of the Zealot's snarling face, and the shriek that came from his mouth when the trap took hold that I think about now. Mad. I cannot fail, or who knows what trail of bodies he will be responsible for in the days ahead.
And then I touch the two Greater Tarots in my pack, and a thrill of hope rushes through me. The cards are new to me, and through all of this I had forgotten these two items made just this morning. I pull them out, and looking upon Eternal Flame and Destruction, remember the Fortune Teller this morning . . .
. . . "Well done! That is Eternal Flame, and this one is Destruction.", says the Fortune Teller, pointing to each greater Tarot I have finally managed to make. "Truly useful for those of warlike temperment." she finishes, with a tilt to her head.
"Well, Destruction seems self evident. That should be applied to a weapon?", I ask.
"Yes indeed, and most potent it is. Use it when in dire need, and not frivolously.", she replies.
"Eternal Flame is not quite as obvious. What exactly does it do?" I ask, pointing to the other card.
"Ah. Well, Eternal Flame is actually more . . . profound . . . in my mind. Eternal Flame my good Ranger you will apply to yourself. Fast you will become, both in leg and in battle, well beyond what you are currently able. Trail Blaze and all.", she says with a small laugh.
. . .
I stand knowing the cards are my only hope against an opponent who is evading many of my arrows. However, if I'm FAST, and my attacks are more powerful through Destruction, then perhaps I can defeat the mad-Tumerok below me.
I cannot fail.
As I stand holding the two cards, a small sound causes me to jump back and look up. For a split second I think the Tumerok has circled his way up to the top of the hill above me and is coming down, or that one of the fickle denizens of Arramora has decided I'm something to kill. Instead, as I leap to my feet and spin around, a small box of tea tumbles to my feet from the hilltop above me. Somewhat confused, as, though the hillside is fairly steep, the box of tea managed to tumble quite a ways, I pull my bowstring back as I hear the grumble of an irritated Tumerok. Suddenly, peering over the hilltop, Tumerok eyes suddenly wide at the sight of a Ranger at full draw 40 yards away, a Tumerok ducks his head back out of sight.
"Than?", I ask, lowering my bow.
"Yes, what are you doing pointing that arrow at me?", my allegiance-partner asks, now cautiously coming over the sharp crest of the hill down to me.
"Thought you were one of the bad guys", I say to the level 61 Clawbearer as he smoothly moves down the slope, tail and legs maintaining perfect balance.
Looking down at the small box of tealeaves at my feet, a mildly irritated look upon his face, he points to it and says "Was supposed to give that to you. Fortune Lady in Cavendo looking at my cards wouldn't take gold, refused to give advice unless I promised. Said to find you somewhere around here-abouts. Silly tea-thing. Popped out of bag."
At that point Than's gaze takes in my rather "chewn" appearance, blood splattered about the ground, shredded brush, and numerous arrows, many not mine, buried a finger's depth into the trees.
"Tell me", he says, eyes going calm and hunter-like, as is the wont of Tumeroks.
Keeping back from the drop down to where the Zealot still waited I told Than of all that happened that day, also showing him the items taken from the corpses I had encountered earlier. Listening carefully, Than simply asked at the end of the story "They attacked you without provocation?"
"Yes" I reply.
"This Zealot appears mad you say? One of Aun Tanau's own?", he asks.
"By all appearances, yes", I reply again.
"Perhaps it must be finished then. Show me.", says the Clawbearer, lips skinning back from rather sharp teeth.
Than watches with interest as I use first Eternal Flame on myself, then Destruction on my Venge War Bow, crumpling each in the manner instructed. I'm thrilled to see the effect upon my bow, clearly more powerful now, more balanced, which means a far better chance for a critical hit. And Eternal Flame? I remember the first time I was successful at casting Trail Blaze! The lightness, the speed, it was entirely intoxicating! This feeling is like that as I feel myself move over the ground faster than I've ever done before. Before I know it, I've moved the 50 feet to the drop down to the Zealot, when I thought I had only taken two steps.
Ears twitching forward, gazing down at the Zealot below who is gazing back up, swaying from side to side, Than asks, "I shall head to the left, yes?"
"Yes" I say calmly, summoning Cujo again
Than moves through the woods to the left, then down the hill. This placed both of us at 90-degree positions from the Zealot. If one should fall, the other would not be in immediate melee range of the Zealot's hand-blades.
The Zealot could tell another was present I believe, seeing a figure moving through the woods to his right, but, it was to me the Zealot continued to focus. Head swiveling from where he suspected another to be moving, then back to me, the swaying of his body increased.
Oddly enough, the Zealot unleashed one of those unnatural shrieks just as Than reached his position below. Starting unexpectedly, I never the less began the attack, leading with Sinew Snap, then Envenom, then Hunter's Intuition. The speed! The arrows where out of my bow very quickly, my fingers and arms moving effortlessly.
As my arrows streaked to the Zealot, I could see Than's attacks arc to him as well. The Zealot, fast as he was, rushing forward to kill Cujo again on his way to me, was suddenly engulfed in a burst of frost and cold. His forward rush was now turned to a crawl as the cold numbed his legs.
Shrieking in rage the Zealot spins to Than, and I see the Clawbearer reel from the same magical attack I had suffered earlier, but the Zealot turns back as Cujo reaches him.
The woods heard that insane shriek one more time that day, as the Zealot killed Cujo yet again, then attempted to climb that hill to kill me. Pushing past the numbing effects of the cold, the insane Tumerok managed to make it half of the way to me before the final blows fell. Truth be told, I have no idea who killed the Fanatic Zealot. What I do recall is the Zealot reeling under the potent attacks of the nearby Clawbearer, when I again used Rain of Arrows. Fast in combat due to Eternal Flame, my Bow enhanced with Destruction, the five arrows left my bow almost as one just as Than unleashed his final rounds as well.
As the Zealot dies, I again glimpse the awful and odd expression on his face. Than observed that as well, his eyes growing troubled seeing that expression on a Tumerok face. What troubles us both as well are the last words burbled by the Fanatic Zealot, " . . . always hungry . . .", a look of implacable . . . avarice in his eyes.
It is evening now, and we sit at a fire, eating and drinking some tea made from the tea in the little box Than had been carrying to me.
"Good tea", Than states quietly
"Yes" I reply "Different. Sort of minty, and mellow".
"Yes-Yessss. This tea is like that. I've not had in very long time", he says.
Seeing the question in my eyes he says, "Special tea. Mimbu tea. Rare. Very expensive".
My stomach flips over when he tells me how expensive.
We awake early the next morning and say our goodbyes. Than will go first to our allegiance hall and provide our monarchs with the story.
For myself, while dawn is just breaking the horizon, I've used recall to take me to Cragstone, then to Cavendo. Not many are about yet, and the Fortune Teller's booth is empty.
I've folded the remnants of the now used Eternal Flame card around the small, now empty, box of tea, tied with a string. I place that on her chair, and slide the chair back under the counter.
The events of the previous day are unsettling. Unsettling in ways I'm unsure of yet, for all I've encountered evil men before.
But, before I worry about what tomorrow may bring, I've a Mimbu shaman to find about some tea.
