Chapter 14: A Cloud of Fear

[Jeff]

Although you do not encounter a street as flooded as the one you leave behind, the district of Temple is still boggier than most. When you pass by the Keep of the Silver Flame, you see that its stone pillars—which raise up its foundations—are mired in pools of their own. On the rooftop and spires, another handful of gargoyles can be seen in silhouette.

From Temple to Oldgate, you at last approach the western edge of Stormreach, where the buildings grow smaller and a stone bridge in the Whitewash neighborhood crosses the Koronoo River. The bridge is line with well-maintained coldfire lamps, representative of the arcane expertise of this neighborhood's Aundairian residents. Once you cross the bridge, rising behind the last few buildings is the jungle canopy itself. Xen'drik beckons, though it is not your time yet to venture forth. Where would you even go?

But Shorak veers your party south now, passing the last few buildings to a long stretch of well-trodden grass. A huge ring of standing stones looms to your left just above a bank of the river. You have glimpsed some of these before in various parts of the city. A few days ago, Melethos happened to notice one up high near the cliffs when he went to "Crow Rock." Some of you remember spotting one in the city proper, too, in Marketplace. Everywhere these circles of menhirs makes you think of druids. They're always set apart, and people don't casually mill about them, though there are sometimes one or two people venturing near to look at them. Never whole crowds.

Shorak alone among you knows what they are—as much as any Stormreacher can. The locals call them Circles of Visions. Each one, about once a month, manifests some image or scene like an illusion, and no one knows what to make of them. Sometimes they depict persons or creatures that might have existed long ago, or in possible futures, or of something too abstract to interpret. While a visitor to Stormreach might take to heart the things they see in a Circle of Vision, locals have grown accustomed to them and have largely given up guessing. But there's no doubt they're ancient, mystical, and beyond anyone's obvious control.

And across a field of wild grasses and packed earth you see the Tents of Rushemé. It's unmistakable where it gets its name. It appears t be a shanty town of huge tents and huts—some clearly erected only temporarily, some semi-permanent. They're constructed out in the open or amidst scattered copses of trees. Half-sunken boulders litter the area, as well as smaller rocks of all sizes.

And then you see people moving among them, though not many. The rain has kept the everyday trade to a minimum.

When you draw near, a figure rises up from a sitting position behind a boulder. Its girth and heart immediately reveal that this is no half-giant. Easily ten and a half feet tall, the bulky figure is clearly a hill giant. Wearing what appears to be a kilt-shaped garment of bear hide, the giant is shirtless but draped in a coarse grey tarp approximating a cape. No attempt has been made to shield his head from the rain, which falls lightly but steadily, letting his long dark hair stick to his shoulders. His legs look like tree trunks and his gut is wider than all of you if you stood close together.

This fellow looks like maybe some sort of greeter for the Tents of Rushemé. He holds no club, but you do see that one enormous hand is casually holding a rock the size of Adamant's torso.

"You come trade?" the giant asks in a nonthreatening tone when you get close, and still his voice is powerful and deep and seems to vibrate right through your bones.

---

Hill giants come in all shapes and sizes. They're not all enormously fat like some 5E products like to show, but in any case proportions are like this guy—thick and exaggerated and with a face that's not exactly handsome.

[Darren]

Kal looks up at the giant. Other men might be intimidated, but Kalarian d'Deneith has had conversations with dragons. This giant does not impress him. To Kal, it's just a very large man. He adopts a friendly stance and with a smile he says, "Trade? Of a kind. We're looking for someone. A giant named Kruthor. A mutual friend told us to pay our respects to him. Do you know where he might be found?"

[Ken]

Belarin gives a last look at the gargoyle above, and then he follows Melethos.

[Jeff]

"Oh," the giant says when Kal says "...of a kind," briefly interrupting him simply with the volume of his voice. When there is silence again, Kal continues.

Aug 16, 2017 9:40:12 GMT -4 Darren said:

"We're looking for someone. A giant named Kruthor. A mutual friend told us to pay our respects to him. Do you know where he might be found?"

"Kruthor?" He puzzles over this a moment, his brows coming together. Then: "Wait. Kruthor busy. How much...repse...restepects you need pay?"

The hill giant holds out his empty hand, palm up, but he looks at it with uncertainty, as if not sure he's got the right idea anyway. He closes his fist again.

[Brian]

"An entry fee?" Melethos asks the giant. "We must pay to see Kruthor?"

[Dave W.]

Aug 16, 2017 11:15:58 GMT -4 Brian said:

"An entry fee?" Melethos asks the giant. "We must pay to see Kruthor?"

"I'm not sure he knows," Adamant whispers a reply. To Kal he says, "There are seven of us... give him 7 coins?"

"Oh," the warforged turns to Shorak, "or do you know the custom?"

[Jeff]

The hill giant frowns. "I not know rest...epect. No pay."

Starg comes forward, and the hill giant straightens and looks at the minotaur squarely, a hint of wariness in his expression. Though Starg is taller than all of you, the giant still has three feet on him. "Pay respects," the minotaur says, repeating Kal's phrase. "We wish only to meet with Kruthor."

The hill giant nods in slow comprehension. Then: "Kruthor talk with others now. How you know name of Kruthor?" he then demands.

[Darren]

It's clear to Kal now that linguistic subtlety is wasted on a creature such as this giant. He smiles as he would at a simple child. "I told you, we have a mutual friend. Do you know Llash-Tava?"

[Ken]

Belarin mutters to Streko, "He seems VERY literal." The warlock sounds impatient, as though he's itching to say more. Finally, he releases a breath. "I'd best stay silent," he whispers. "My metaphors could be misinterpreted catastrophically."

_______________________________________

Sorry about the out-of-sequence post earlier. I didn't see the earlier posts on this page for some reason.

[Jeff]

Aug 16, 2017 21:13:27 GMT -4 Darren said:

It's clear to Kal now that linguistic subtlety is wasted on a creature such as this giant. He smiles as he would at a simple child. "I told you, we have a mutual friend. Do you know Llash-Tava?"

"Moot-you-all friend?" the hill giant repeats. He looks more puzzled than ever.

At this, the giant hefts the large rock in his hand, raises it—

—then pivots, hurling it out into the field to your right, and from the sound it makes it breaks against another rock at least two hundred feet away! The aim is impressive. A weird rattling sound follows, then the distant trill of some bird sounding like some kind of covert signal, and meanwhile the giant just stands there waiting.

He grins. "You wait."

There is a long silence. About two minutes later, an elderly orc (you don't see too many of those) hikes into view from around the closest tent here at the edge of the great encampment. He is robed very simply, walks barefoot, and holds a plain quarterstaff. One eye is also cloudy white, but his other squints at your party as he walks up beside the hill giant. He places his hand to the giant's leg for a moment, like the simple pat of a friend.

The orc's tusk-filled mouth opens in a smile as he regards your sizeable party. "Kruthor, is that right? You seek Kruthor? Not too many outside the Tents even know his name; he does not advertise his counsel. Can you explain, young masters?"

[Dave B.]

Shorak waits and watches, smiling at the simple mindedness of the Hill Giant. As large as they are, some are almost like children at times.

[Brian]

Melethos stares at the old orc. His resemblance to Melethos's mentor, Lorjad, is striking. A pang of homesickness stabs at his heart. He's been away from home for so long.

Melethos quietly wait for Kal to respond to the orc's question.

[Darren]

Kal thinks that he has finally found someone he can actually talk to. With a last glance up at the hill giant, he reflects his smile onto the new arrival. He offers a nod of respect. Despite his usual inclination towards secrecy, he feels no ill-intent from this aged orc. "As I explained to your companion here, Kruthor and I have a mutual friend named Llash-Tava. She asked us to visit him. Despite our appearance," he lightly taps his sharrash, "we truly wish only to speak with Kruthor."

[Jeff]

The aged orc raises his eyebrows when Kal speaks the sphinx's name. "I've not heard anyone name a member of that species a...friend. Most interesting." He looks into the middle distance for a moment, pondering. "Very well, I shall inform Kruthor of what you say. Please, come in, but do not stray far. If he willing to speak with you, I will have you fetched. Yes?"

The orc turns and walks into the camp. The hill giant steps aside, scratching at his neck.

Beyond them, you can see folk milling about.

[Ken]

Belarin shrugs and walks forward as directed. As he passes the giant, he says, "Good throw!"

[Dave W.]

Aug 17, 2017 9:29:46 GMT -4 Jeff said:

The aged orc raises his eyebrows when Kal speaks the sphinx's name. "I've not heard anyone name a member of that species a...friend. Most interesting." He looks into the middle distance for a moment, pondering. "Very well, I shall inform Kruthor of what you say. Please, come in, but do not stray far. If he willing to speak with you, I will have you fetched. Yes?"

"Excuse me," Adamant interrupts before the orc goes to seek Kruthor. "There is another task I must perform. I have been asked to meet with Greshtuza, a medusa, on behalf of her sister, Greshnazza. Perhaps I could take care of that while my friends wait? Would you know where I might find her?"

Adamant turns to his friends, "It might save some time; I could take Greshnazza's sword to her sister while you talk to Kruthor."

[Jeff]

"Stay with your company," the orc says to Adamant as the only acknowledgment to his request.

[Jeff]

Taking initiative in having Melethos spurring the group forward, since Brian is still infrequently checking in.

Although Shorak's services as a guide are no longer needed, Melethos marches to the front and leads the group pass the first tents into the encampment.

You are soon glad to be told to linger in a specific area—the edge—for the Tents of Rushemé is an expansive community. This is a village-sized assemblage of arbors, huts, yurts, and pavillions of all different sizes—and most of them scaled to hill giants and spaced apart from one another. Most of the people you see are not giants, but those who've come to trade or do business with them. Yet moving among them, here and there, are individuals of prodigious size. Ogres, hill giants, and half-giants stand out the most, and from afar you some some slenderer ones who might be...stone giants?

The campfires are the size of bonfires. The barrels and wheelbarrows scattered about are huge. You see a skinned boar rotating on the spit of a great fire between two ogres, and you realize it's the size of a horse. Another food-pit just beyond it has some other sort of beast rotating on a spit, and you can't even be sure what it is.

Everywhere you look, there are weapons—clubs, rocks, axes, and all of them immense. But none of them are in hand. This looks like a camp capable of protecting itself, but desiring not to. It's odd. The reputation of giant-kind is one of savagery, but if the giants' instincts and impulses lean towards violence, someone or some thing has tempered it in this place. Yet for being so close to the city walls, the Tents feel more like the wild. You even spot a dire wolf—dark-furred, pony-sized—curled up outside one nearby tent, sleeping without any sort of leash on it.

Kal sees Tangat catch the scent of the roasting swine as his nose lifts into the air and his tail starts wagging. There are great wooden carts heaped with vegetables and fruits, some of which you can't identify. In the distance you hear the ringing of a smith's hammer. While you don't really see anyone hawking wares or running shops, you do get the sense that this a place of trade, of goods, of plenty.

The rain seems to bother fewer people here than in the city itself. Hoods and hats make casual inspection of the smaller folk difficult, though that seems to be the weather's doing. Yet the giants and ogres generally go about with none of these things. Rain slicks their hair but it bothers them not at all. And it is the giants who regard you as they pass or work.

The two Blademarks with you hold their flanking positions, but their vigilance is now mixed with wonder. You doubt they've ever been in here before.

Starg looks eager. The old minotaur takes everything in, even closing his eyes and breathing deep of the air. "I like this place," he says.

[Darren]

Kal kneels next to Tangat to scratch the dog behind the ears. "Go have a look around, but be careful. Don't end up as anybody's lunch," he says to the dog, knowing that through their shared bond Tangat will understand and that Kal will know if the dog senses any particular danger.

[Dave B.]

Shorak walks along with the group, pausing a moment to thank the Hill Giant in his own language. Looking around, he can't help but feel a bit at home. He remembers the Giants that would visit his tribe on occasion. Shorak was too young to be a party of whatever business was being transacted, but he did have a few conversations with them from time to time. Being only half-Drow, Shorak was an oddity that interested some of the Giants. He does offer a respectful greeting to any passing Giants, in their language.

[Brian]

"I also like this place," Melethos tells Starg. A tent filled with enormous stoneware jars draws his eyes. Lifting one would be difficult, let alone one filled with water or ale. "This has a nomad feel, permanent yet temporary. You can feel the vitality."

He continues to lead the group to the designated spot.

[Joe]

Streko nods, feeling an odd sense of comfort and safety here. Overhearing his friend's comments, he realizes that he, too, likes it in this "tent town." He find a smile comes easily, despite the massive size differential between him and most of the other denizens of this place. There is a sense of home here that he doesn't quite understand and he chooses to indulge in this for a short time. He suspects that this feeling won't last long, so why not soak it in while he has the chance.

The thought makes him chuckle and he lifts his head toward the heavens and lets the rain spatter his face. "No pun intended," he says in response to his clever bit of wit.

[Darren]

Aug 17, 2017 21:03:20 GMT -4 Dave B. said:

Shorak walks along with the group, pausing a moment to thank the Hill Giant in his own language. Looking around, he can't help but feel a bit at home. He remembers the Giants that would visit his tribe on occasion. Shorak was too young to be a party of whatever business was being transacted, but he did have a few conversations with them from time to time. Being only half-Drow, Shorak was an oddity that interested some of the Giants. He does offer a respectful greeting to any passing Giants, in their language.

"You speak their language?" Kal says to Shorak. "That would have been helpful to know earlier." Kal casts a sideways glance at Shorak and grins. "I bet you hide many secrets, don't you, Shorak?"

[Ken]

"I like this place, too," says Belarin. "So many identical places to hide. Ducking into one of these tents would be like playing a 'shell game' on your pursuer!"

[Jeff]

Aug 17, 2017 17:33:20 GMT -4 Darren said:

Kal kneels next to Tangat to scratch the dog behind the ears. "Go have a look around, but be careful. Don't end up as anybody's lunch," he says to the dog, knowing that through their shared bond Tangat will understand and that Kal will know if the dog senses any particular danger.

Tail wagging, Tangat bounds off happily.

Aug 17, 2017 21:03:20 GMT -4 Dave B. said:

Shorak walks along with the group, pausing a moment to thank the Hill Giant in his own language.

To everyone else, Shorak's words sound more like Elvish than Giant, but he drow have altered and stylized their language in such a way that makes them sound distinct. But few know they are essentially the same language. Long ago, the elves of Thelanis who were enslaved by the giants were themselves sundered and altered. The elves reinvented their tongue, adapted from the Sylvan they once spoke freely. The drow, instead, adopted the language of their masters but evolved it. Now, the two languages sound like exotic deviations of the other.

The hill giant smiles as Shorak passes by, and responds in Giant with, "Have a stable day, little drow." Which Shorak understands to mean grounded, rooted in the earth. Secure.

Melethos doesn't lead the group far, because to do so would get them lost. The orc had requested they stay just inside, so here you wait.

As Streko looks around, and smells the cooking meat and the odd familiar qualities of home, he sees that he is not the only halfling here. A pair of clawfoots* with their riders amble between two tents and then disappear with their riders. The Talentans were wearing the native garments of their homeland, and even bear hunting masks, though they were pushed up from their faces. But now they're out of sight...

Just as the old orc reappears, beckoning you to follow. "Kruthor has other guests, but he says that you are expected."

---

* Talentan halfling velociraptor-like steeds.

[Brian]

"Expected," Melethos says, hiding his surprise. "Of course. Please, lead the way." He motions for the orc to proceed, and the rest to follow.

[Dave W.]

backing up a bit

Aug 17, 2017 14:53:45 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"Stay with your company," the orc says to Adamant as the only acknowledgment to his request.

Adamant nods to the orc, "of course."

As the party waits in the reception area, he paces. "It's fine." the warforged replies to those who 'like this place'.

"I do not understand why," Adamant states, "But I am anxious to proceed. I would very much have liked to take the sword to the medusa's brood-sister while the rest of you speak to the giant Kruthor." He forces himself to stop pacing. "It feels like we are back underwater, restrained to moving slowly... but now we are submerged in time."

When the orc returns to escort them on, Adamant moves with the group but says nothing. When they get to the clearing he stays to the back, trying almost comically to force himself to be relaxed.

[Jeff]

The old orc, who never introduces himself, leads you to a clearing at the far corner of the giants' encampment where it nears the denser edge of the jungle. There a few trees surround the glade, and an immense boulder juts from the earth on one side. There appear to be some patterns drawn onto the surface of the rock—druidic designs? They don't look like wizard's marks.

"Kruthor," calls out the orc, "these are the friends of the sphinx."

Three figures are here talking to one another, though they grow quiet as you approach.

The most striking one is, of course, the hill giant among them, though he little resembles the greeter you first met. He's not short, though he appears to be somewhat stooped by age, reaching only nine or so feet in height. While not as portly as many of his people, he is nonetheless broad-shouldered and stout. Long, unbraided dark hair hangs down to his waist and his wrinkled, brown-skinned body is covered almost completely by a voluminous robe the color of parchment. He holds a thick staff that is simply the trunk of a white-birch tree trimmed of most of most of its branches. Leafy sprigs at the top serve as the perch for a few round little birds. There is no question that this is Kruthor, and though stooped by age he towers over the two smaller figures before him.

The one on the left is a tall, middle-aged human in a long leather stormcoat, though the only obvious weapon he carries is a battle axe slung over his back. His hair has been hacked short, brown peppered with gray, with a matching unkempt beard and a stern expression. And with possibly more battle scars on his face than you've ever seen on a human before. He wears a guarded expression and instantly swipes his grey eyes over your party, appraising your arms and armor, the Blademarks, even Starg. His distrustful expression does not fade.

The one on the right appears considerably younger, and is of average height and a slender build. His hair is shoulder-length, raven-black, and his pointed ears reveal an elvish heritage, though his face is stubbled. This half-elf wears a suit of black leather, not so much armor as a military-style uniform with no insignia to be found. He's got a backpack at his feet and bears an unusual weapon on his belt that seems to combine a military pick and a hammer. Neither man wears a sword.

"Is this them?" The half-elf's eyebrows go up, and when he sees Shorak, he smiles broadly. "Greetings again, Sh...Shoray...Shorackyr, wasn't it?"

Shorak instantly recognizes the man as the one who brought the chandeliers down at the gala a few nights ago, and clearly orchestrated much of the chaos that unfolded there.

Meanwhile, Kruthor bows his head. "Welcome, friends," he says rather slowly. His voice is gruff and deep, but he has greater control over its volume than the hill giant greeter.

Nearby, another hill giant can be seen crossed-legged on the ground, whittling at a massive log.

[Darren]

Kal spreads his arms wide and nods his head deeply, not quite a bow but definitely a show of respect, to Kruthor. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Kruthor. Llash-Tava sends her regards and speaks highly of you. It will no doubt bring you joy to know that she is well, and by now I have no doubt that she and Argushem are reunited. I am Kalarian d'Deneith." Kalarian waits to see how Kruthor receives the information about Llash-Tava before continuing.

Kal notices the exchange between the half-elf and half-drow. "Do you know each other?" he asks.

[Jeff]

I'm waiting for more participation,FYI. Even if anyone's decided their character is being passive and not getting involved in anything going on (a frequent occurrence), I still need to know what they're doing, what their reactions are, as visual cues for NPCs and whatever.