It was a trek of three days across the burning hot sands. The sky was hotter than last time, and many a sight I mistook for shade and water. It was just as cold in the nights, though, but we made progress, even as a pack of hyenas stood to have us for their meals. But not too soon we found the coastal port town we had been looking for, called Ixeer. The desert town was small, and sitting by the water, like a child pretending it could fend for itself. Sure had its charm though. And by that, I mean it was a tasteless and boring town. Upon entering the main of the town, we noticed a bustling crowd cheering and crying and parading about a tiny creature. It was the little raccoon! We met with him and followed him and the crowd into the pub where we had drink and sup and did rest and learn of the little raccoon's separate journey.
He had gone to explore the night in the temple, and fallen into a pit, and found a long tunnel that connected to a shop in this very town! He then had a brawl with the weakened Vecna, and pulled him into a well, which doused his red fiery cape.
To be honest, I'm not much sure why I'm writing this down, I ain't believing a scrit of it. As seabound as this town was, it was too dry. Vol bought a boat that was just to be used for scraps, and I spent some money in the market to learn the Make Whole ritual, to fix it. The Wilden had his fixins on stealing a boat, but even after dark there was still crew under deck. The sun had set, and, while we were on the docks correctin' the ships shortcomings, the Wilden was abiding by a plan long dismissed by Vol and I. We found him missing and heard a commotion coming from the market in town. Smoke and fire, yelling. We were almost done with the boat, and we didn't want the Wilden to come running to us with the guard on his tail, associating us fine, upright, reasonably civil minds to his chaotic tendencies. Thankfully, he got caught up quick, and penned like a hog.
Afterdawn, we asked around town, and found him in the local prison. He was to be hanged, but we bought him as a slave, boarded the boat (we named her The Huntress) and set off to sail an 8 day voyage east along The Path Of The Beam. The days passed slowly, time was passed in talking. Vol and I came up with some keen nicknames for our travelling companions. I attempted to build an alchemy lab under deck, but even with the crates we brought aboard, I only had enough for an alchemy bench. Six days in, we were attacked by a flock of psuedo-drakes. Not like we had much of a choice, but to fight, and Vol was prized with a drake egg at the end of it. Not soon after that, the little raccoon alerted us to land off in the distance. We sailed a little until we found a neat inlet. We had a little trouble getting in around the reef, but we were able to anchor safely alongside a cliff.
Setting foot on a strange, new continent was exciting. New flora and fauna to explore and alchemize with. The forest right along the cliffs was strange, too. It was alive, moreso than usual. The trees made quiet grunts when brushed against, and moaned loudly when struck. There were large flowers with buds that opened into a mouth that would swallow whole anything that wandered near. They were a new curiosity; I wanted to find if their digestive juices would be useful, but even to approach one dangerous. It could sense you coming, likely through vibration through its roots, and it would snap at you with its jagged thorny mouth. We were ambushed by a group of bullywogs in a clearing, surrounded by many of these flowers. The bullywog chieftain let out a foul air that poisoned or choked us. These creatures are entirely disgusting! The little raccoon has an eye for strategical body placement, I think. He can maneuver them around with tendrils of electricity. He pulls them around him, then lets loose a shockwave of energy that emanates from him to those around him. He did though line up the chieftain just key, that Vol charged at him and shoved him into the maw of one of those fierce buds. We disposed of them just fine, but I'm still feeling sick from that gas cloud the bullywog belched up. We set up camp in this clearing for the night.
No comments:
Post a Comment