Time had passed quickly, and all was in readiness. D'Amboise had several wine skins of blue paint, the passage of the Hetmen to the temple had been reported the day before, and the party was crouched in the woods staring across the marshy, humid landscape at a totem clearly dedicated to the goddess Hel in her fish-aspect as worshiped by the Taku Taku.

The totem stood six and a half feet tall, a thick spear stuck in the ground, the fish mask affixed to the shaft, with a collection of feathers, beads and arrowheads hanging from around it's neck, along with a string of small leather pouches, each containing what appeared to be two small stones.

The professor was at your side, though he was progressing no further. Brudher is particularly happy that they are no longer required to wear the masks.

Shank had doubled back several times, and is fairly certain that your party has not been trailed.

Thatch had closed his eyes out at one point to get a sense of the surrounding magical atmosphere, but had fought off a headache ever since.

Ovo was tensed, aware of the approaching potential for combat.

"That will put you pretty deep in their territory," the Professor explained, the line the Taku Taku shared with their rival tribes a good two miles to your left. (Southward.) "Don't let that fool you, they are jealous of their prerogatives. We are probably past where the city sinks under the surface, but there is no way to be sure. I suggest you go in about a mile, the drift left for awhile. If you don't find the opening, tread back to the north."

Unless someone has last words for the man who had guided you thru the lands to this point, he will head out, leaving you to the myriad ways a jungle can kill a person, not even gounting the natives.

"I'm particularly fond of my own prerogatives," D'Amboise mutters with feeling, but offers hand and thanks to the professor who has been of such great help to them in their quest.  "You have our thanks, and I most fervently hope we'll live to see you again and share another meal."

Once their guide has retreated, the priest will take a deep breath and indicate to Shank and Brudher to scout ahead, while he, Ovo and Thatch wait anxiously for the all clear for them to advance.

"Jungles are too much like forests for my taste," Odo says, but that's all he says.

In reply to Ovo Goldenshield (msg # 3):

Lol quick note found a moment to sneak on-line

Thatch shrugs, rubs his forehead. Well I will not be much help offs silly. But I will do what I can we move out shank-n-bruhder scout and stay mid to point and Ovo And re a.m.  eager ready


EDITED BY DM - Not sure I got what you were saying there thatch, feel free to correct if I got something wrong.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:41, Mon 21 Sept 2015.

In reply to Thatch Pathwork (msg # 4):

Loc found a hot spot n a gamer to let me post again.


Thatch commented between his headache that he would not be able to use his magic but would do what he could with his dagger, his wit and support where ended.

Shank and bruhder lead. Thatch then ovo and d amBoise

Shank and Brudher took the lead (I assume) gesturing for the others to remain in place while they scout out the boundary. Both quickly find traps laid out, but they are ill tended, and several have already been activated on hapless animals without being reset.

Given an hour, the two managed to carve a decent path thru the twenty feet of traps, past which more have not been found.

The rest of the party creeps forward thru the opening...

In reply to The Dreamer of Worlds (msg # 6):

Thatch does his best to keep watch for more traps along the route plus remembering this as a way out.  thinking as he looks about i hope we see no living sentries along this path.   Grips his dagger and looks about as he slowly follows Shank and Bruhder.

Shank moves easily through the brush, searching for more traps.  This is what a scout should be doing, not negotiating from behind some stuffy mask, not standing toe to toe with those as make their living killing folk and not standing by while others say their prayers or cast their magicks.

The traps seem to be localized in a band, like a wall protecting what's within.  Of course, Shank didn't assume for a moment that there were only traps in that band.  He makes the effort to backtrack frequently to let the others know what meager tidings he had to share.

Ovo's grumbling is low, but audible.

D'Amboise remains tense, holding his tongue and making an effort to move quietly when the signal comes to advance.  He leaves Ovo and Thatch to look to the fore so that there are two pairs of eyes that might see any trouble approaching the exposed scouts, while the priest concentrates on the rear, praying that the Abu'Chik have not betrayed them.

Once passed the traps the party slid into virgin territory, in a sense they might have have expected. The jungle is pretty much the same as before, but there are no signs of the city that once stretched, according to their maps, for several miles further north then they had reached.

Heading slightly uphill, the scouts found few signs of human occupancy. Spoor was old, though animal spoor was rich and fresh. Whatever animals normally trod these grounds kept their distance from the intruders though.

The opening should be to the south of them, should the party wish to head that way, or they could continue west up the long wide mound they had found themselves crossing.

"Could the city have been buried ?" D'Amboise suggests, staring at the maps with frustration.  "Perhaps it now lies beneath this mound ?" he eyes the offending geographical feature with distaste.

In reply to D'Amboise (msg # 12):

hhmm, that is an interesting thought, but is not the area sinking?   We shall continue a few on this west direction but if we do not find something soon, we should turn South for the opening.  be careful and on the look out, just in case.

Shank, all senses focused on anything that might harm them primarily, and on what they seek secondarily.  He continues to the west, fading a bit southwardy here and there.  On occasion, he drops back to compare notes with the others, but since the traps, there's little enough worth the effort of reporting.

Brudher parallels Shank's movements, moving slowly and carefully.  He tries to stay about 20 yards left of where Shank is, scouting a bit further to the south.

Ovo grumbles some more.  ". . . 'n I just wanna hit somthin'" he mutters.

As if on cue, a lithe, long legged jungle deer of some sort dashes from the south thru the party and within second vanished off to the north.

Those with a quick enough eye noticed it had a small spear protruding from it's shoulder. Within moment several silent-as-the-night hounds appear, stopping suddenly in their tracks at the sight of party. Hounds, yet not, long weasel-like bodies, cat like heads, fangs bared, about a foot and a half at the shoulder and three feet long.

As the sight sinks in, their masters appear, Orcs? Perhaps, though smaller than the norm, with a light spotted fur on their naked bodies. Three males, two females, armed for the hunt, sweat glistening on their bodies.

These creatures show no hesitation, nor pause for even a moment, instantly changing their target from their previous prey to you five, their war-cats quickly on their heels...

Ovo's growl deepens an octave, and big grin spreads across his face.  Holding his battle axe in both hands horizontally with respect to the ground, he raises it up and down rhythymically, as if timing the orcs' approaching steps.

He appears quite ready for armed conflict.

Brudher draws his weapons and moves to flank the charge.

Shank quickly ducks into the nearest source of concealment.  If not spotted, he'll ready his bow and arrows and watch covertly for a good chance to let his shaft fly.  If he is spotted, he'll move while under cover, twisting and turning as the cover allows before he readies his bow and arrow.

In reply to Shank (msg # 20):

Thatch sighs and while pulling out his dagger, moves behind D'mboise some then he speaks to the "Orcs" in Orcish - You spoil our hunt! we hunt bigger game, gold and gems then that small pitiful deer, join us or go chase your deer and sternly points his dagger be gone if you choose the deer before I call the earths magic on you and starts weaving his hands and Dagger mumbling like he is gong to cast a spell (but not for that would be disastrous right now).

Like the Dwarf, the priest would almost welcome the certainty of a fight, rather than this perilous hunt though enemy territory ... but he knows that this battle would be at best a distraction, and at worst might bring the Taku-Taku down upon them should there be any of the tribe left behind.  He knows not what Thatch says to the Orcs, but adds his own succinct ultimatum in the Common Tongue, as he gestures with his axe.

"Leave us, join us or die !"