Day 115

Part one of two of the D&D update for this week.

 

Our adventurers awake in the late morning. The forest is quieter than they’d expect for this hour, the lack of bugs and birds a good yet ominous sign that they are on the right path.

They continue their walk in the woods, the canopy above them growing thicker until it’s hard to tell if it’s even day anymore. Every now and then sunlight will break through, lighting up a small pond or a glade, but the gloom is persistent. The air deadens as they travel deeper into the forest, dark trees creaking despite no wind. On the back of their neck, the hairs stand up. The forest is watching, something malevolent, stirring. \

Drawing weapons and looking about, Constance and Aymer see a fuzzy leg disappearing among the branches above. They move slowly toward it, the branches creaking, nothing visible in the dark canopy above. The party continues walking through the ‘day’ until they feel it might be night. The terrain has been rough, knotted root bursting over what may have once been a path. It has been a long day of travel, and they wearily lay their heads.

After an uneventful night, our adventurers wake in what they assume is morning. They feel a gentle breeze as they pack up their camp. A moment after the breeze rustles the bushes, a mist rolls into the camp. It’s hard to tell what direction the mist is coming from; it seems to swirl around them.

The mist stays thick on the ground, slowing our adventurers’ movement through the forest. After a few trips, the party carefully picks through the underbrush, walking for a few hours. The mist slowly parts around them, seeming to cling to their legs as they walk. As it reaches what they estimate to be late afternoon, the mist vanishes as quickly as it came, slinking back into the dark forest. As night falls, the forest is deadly quiet. No branches are moving or bushes rustling. All they can hear is their own breathing, echoing in the quiet. There’s a long moment of silence, breath slowing as they strain to hear anything else.

As night falls, the forest is deadly quiet. No branches are moving or bushes rustling. All they can hear is their own breathing, echoing in the quiet. There’s a long moment of silence, breath slowing as they strain to hear anything else.As our adventurers prepare camp, they hear a laugh from a nearby tree.

As our adventurers prepare camp, they hear a laugh from a nearby tree: “You should really leave, you know.”They turn to see a humanoid figure with crossed arms leaning against a nearby tree. He is tall and lanky with pallid skin and dark hair. He turns, brushing his hair back, revealing a delicate face with high cheekbones and a proud, aquiline nose. His eyes glow a dull red, like embers from a long-dead fire. He’s wearing armor that at first glance seems to twist and shift in the darkness. At his side hangs a delicate blade, black and shimmering.

They turn to see a humanoid figure with crossed arms leaning against a nearby tree. He is tall and lanky with pallid skin and dark hair. He turns, brushing his hair back, revealing a delicate face with high cheekbones and a proud, aquiline nose. His eyes glow a dull red, like embers from a long-dead fire. He’s wearing armor that at first glance seems to twist and shift in the darkness. At his side hangs a delicate blade, black and shimmering.

“Then again, judging by the way you dispatched that owlbear, you’re more the types to run toward danger. Didn’t even need the help of your big zombie friend. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.”

They look at him, eyes narrowing.

“We’re here to fight evil,” Constance tells him.

“Oh, well, plenty of evil to find here. I’m afraid my master is very busy at the moment, but if wait long enough…”

“Is your master evil?” Elzeni asks him.

“Good, evil, who can tell the difference anymore?”

Constance focuses in on the shadowy figure, trying to sense what his motive might be. She doesn’t feel anything from him.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Ah, yes, forgive me how rude. I am Cryus, former elf and current watcher of interesting things.”

“Where is your master?”

“Perhaps that’s not what you should be worrying about,” he replies, looking up into the treetops.

As our adventurers look up, a web shoots down, wrapping tight around Gantar.

 

To be continued tomorrow…

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One thought on “Day 115

  1. Pingback: Day 116 – A Year of Writing

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