Session 13 - Return to All Eyes Wood!

Day 23

Cullen returned to the survivor's camp as dawn was breaking, the mist still thick among the trees. People were already beginning to stir as he joined Ashrem beside the still smoking fire.

“Mallius is dead,” he said, his face pale and drawn, his eyes haunted, “Killed in the same fight Xin ran from...the fight we saw...the fight we could have reached...”.

Ashrem had been waiting for his friend ever since he heard the news. “I know. Xin told Makoa,” he said, looking at his friend intently, concern written all over his face, “Listen to me...you know we would never have got there in time...”.

“I'm going back,” Cullen interrupted, voice flat, lifeless, “I need to find his body. Bury him proper.” He looked up from the ashes of the fire, looking momentarily vulnerable. “Will you come with me, Ash? I know you are still looking for your family...”

“Of course! But...” replied Ashrem.

“I'm coming, too!” A stocky female dwarf, eyes raw from grief, dumped the kindling she had brought to get the fire going again. “My Folgrun...” she said, choking back a sob, “Folgrun was a friend of Mallius...they died fighting together. I won't leave his body for the crows!”

Cullen nodded, a look of shared grief and understanding passing between them.

“I've a mind to come, too” said Makao, emerging from a pile of blankets next to Ashrem, “If you'll have me...”

“And so will I,” said a voice from behind them. Cullen whirled around, anger flashing in his eyes. Xin stood there. Pale and dishevelled, he held Cullen's gaze.

“Better keep out of my way, then,” growled Cullen, after a moment, before turning back to Makao and nodding his thanks.

The sun was still low as they set off, its pale light struggling to reach them as they trudged through the early morning mist.

Day 24

By midday of the following day, they had reached the outskirts of All Eyes' Wood and the site of the hobgoblin's makeshift camp.

“Where did they fall?” asked Cullen gruffly, turning to Xin.

“Over there somewhere...” replied Xin, pointing vaguely. He seemed a little distracted and, as soon as he had answered, headed off in a slightly different direction.

“Bastard...” spat Cullen, eyes flashing in anger.

“Look!” said Ashrem, studying the ground around the remains of a camp fire, “You can see signs of the fight...some blood here...a broken arrow...all heading towards the forest there.” Ashrem pointed to the forest not too far from where Xin had pointed.

Cullen, Ashrem and Kinning followed the trail into the woods, while Makoa went after Xin. It was not long before the three of them came to an area showing the unmistakeable signs of a furious battle...flattened undergrowth, torn saplings and dried blood everywhere.

Suddenly, Cullen leapt forwards, dropping to his knees in front of a dense patch of thorny undergrowth. Pulling the brambles and leaves aside, he revealed the mangled body of a man. Stripped of anything of value, the swollen body was covered in blood and bruises from multiple wounds...not least, the brutal severing of the head which was nowhere to be seen.

“No...” whispered Cullen, hoarsely, as he delicately lifted the body's right arm, brushing aside leaves and insects. He gently pushed the frayed sleeve up to reveal an old scar running from wrist to elbow. “No...no...no” rasped Cullen, seemingly unable to catch his breath. “Mallius...brother!”

Ashrem standing a few paces behind him, bowed his head in sorrow. Unable to offer any comfort, he just stood there, helpless...as his friend rocked back and forth, weeping, holding the bruised and battered body of his dead brother.

After some moments, Cullen suddenly leapt to his feet and began thrashing maniacally through the nearby undergrowth. “Where is it?” he raved, cursing and tearing his hands on the brambles. Ashrem and Kinning, after a moment's hesitation, joined him and began to search the undergrowth, too.

Makoa arrived a few moments later. Taking in the scene for a moment, a look of pity crossed his face as he realised they were probably looking for the other bodies and the rest of Mallius.

“Cullen,” he called, gently, approaching the tear-stained and raving warrior, “Cullen! There was a bounty. The Ironfang put a bounty on them.” He gripped Cullen by the forearm, passing him a torn and frayed poster.

“Double for their heads,” said Makoa, sadly, glancing at Mallius' body, “Double again for the ringleaders.”

Cullen stared at the poster for a moment, the maniacal look in his eyes fading to be replaced by a cold, hard fury.

“I had a look at the campsite,” said Makoa. “There are signs that two bodies were dragged out of the woods and probably loaded onto a cart which headed off south-east.”

This time it was Kinning who sank to her knees. Cullen laid a hand on her shoulder. “I'm going to bury my brother,” he said, voice hard, barely able to contain his wrath, “Alone. And then it will be time to decide what to do next.”

As the sun fell behind the trees, Cullen joined the others around the small campfire. His face pale and haggard, covered in mud and grime, he was exhausted both physically and emotionally but his voice was cold and hard.

“What is left of my brother is buried. He is with the old gods now.” Cullen bowed his head for a moment before looking up at the others, the anger burning brightly in his eyes. “Now it is time to make the bastards that did this pay!” he growled, hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, “The Ironfang Legion did this! So, by the gods, it is the Ironfang Legion who will pay!”

“We'd need an army,” said Ashrem, unconvinced.

“What about the Rangers?” replied Xin, staring deep into the fire, “The Chernasardo Rangers had a base here in All Eyes' Wood but left for Fort Trevelay. According to Aubrin that's somewhere in Fangwood.”

Cullen stared hard at the half-Elf for a moment. “Then we should find Fort Trevelay and get ourselves an army!” he replied.

Day 25

They left as dawn began to break, heading north-west over the grasslands as the sun rose until they came to the eaves of the great forest and entered its gloomy embrace.

In the woods, the companions slowly made their way westwards, mostly in silence. Cullen seethed with impatience while his friend, Ashrem, looked on with concern. Kinning, stony-faced, kept herself to herself. Xin did his best to stay out of Cullen's way at the back of the group. Only Makoa seemed oblivious to the tense and uncomfortable silence.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, the silence was broken by the sudden appearance of a young Centaur. Shield slung over his back and a long sword at his side, the lean and muscular creature greeted them in a friendly manner.

“Hello, strangers,” he said, raising his hands in peace, “What brings you this deep into the forest?”

“We're heading west in the direction of Phaendar,” replied Makoa, warily, “And you?”

“I live here,” said the Centaur, laughing, “I'm Trinauld. What news from the outside?”

“Do you mind if we keep walking?” said Cullen, impatient and somewhat curt.

“Of course,” replied Trinauld, somewhat taken aback, “Are you in a rush to get somewhere?”

Cullen didn't bother replying but set off. As the group began to follow, Trinauld moved into step next to Makoa, who briefly explained that Cullen had recently lost his brother. Xin, meanwhile, gradually fell back a dozen or so paces.

Suddenly, Trinauld whipped around. “What do you think you are doing?” he shouted at the half-Elf behind him, “Casting magic on me! I came in friendship but I see you are no friends.” The Centaur turned, abruptly, and headed off into the undergrowth. Before he had gone more than a dozen paces, Makoa called out to him.

“Trinauld. Forgive my friend here, he meant no harm. We've had a difficult few days and do not know who to trust.”

The Centaur had stopped. Turning, he slowly returned to the group, looking directly at Xin.

“Makoa is right,” said Xin, looking chastened, “I'm sorry. I meant no offense. I've lost people recently, too. I was just trying to make sure we were safe.”

The Centaur stayed with them for the remainder of the afternoon, talking with Makoa. Still a little wary, Makoa shared only the barest details of their journey and its purpose, despite some probing from the Centaur. Trinauld, on the other hand, seemed only too eager to share his own news, particularly of places of interest within the forest itself.

“There is, perhaps, someone who could help you...a wise woman and a hermit, Veld. She lives on her own to the west of here,” said Trinauld.

“I think I may have come across her already,” said Xin, who had been listening, “She told me and my companions to leave...quite forcibly.”

“I'm not surprised,” replied the Centaur, giving the half-Elf a withering look. “She can be somewhat difficult,” he said, relenting a moment later, “But she makes a good ally if you can win her over. She has much to trade...and some magic. There is also a hunter's stead...not far from here...that may be of interest. Keloch's place. No-one's seen him for years and the place is supposedly haunted...”

As the shadows drew in, Cullen reluctantly stopped near a brook to make camp for the night. With the last of the light, he and some of the others went out hunting, returning later with half a dozen rabbits. Kinning had already lit a small fire and quickly set about preparing the rabbits.

“I have apples,” said Trinauld, offering a small sack full of golden-looking apples, “Help yourself.”

They all took one. “Wait..” shouted Ashrem, just as the rest of them took their first bite. Suddenly, Xin's eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed, narrowly missing the fire. Cullen, Kinning and Makoa hastily spat out the foul-tasting fruit.

“Poison!” hissed Cullen, leaping to his feet. All the pent up anger and frustration of the last few days coming to a head. “What is this?” he demanded, drawing his sword and advancing on Trinauld.

“Ha! There's a bounty on your heads...and I intend to claim it!” replied the Centaur, drawing his own sword and unslinging his shield.

Cullen also unslung his shield, both he and Ashrem advancing on the Centaur. Makoa, meanwhile, squatted next to the fallen Xin, slapping his face none too gently in an attempt to rouse him.

Cullen suddenly lunged forward with his sword, stabbing the Centaur and drawing first blood. Trinauld hissed in pain, backing off a couple of steps.

This gave Ashrem the space to charge forward, leaping into the air and bringing his great two-handed sword down in a savage blow that cut deep into the Centaurs hindquarters, almost severing the creature in twain. Trinauld immediately collapsed, his life's blood spurting forth in fountains. Makoa and Cullen, taken aback at such impressive sword-work, stood in awe...the battle already over.

After a moment, Cullen clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Never have I seen such a mighty blow, old friend,” he said, wonder in his eyes. Ashrem shrugged and grinned as he wiped off his sword on the creature's flank. “Not bad, eh?”

Makoa, meanwhile, knelt beside the fallen Centaur, attempting to stop the bleeding. “If I can stabilise him, maybe we can get some information out of him,” he said. Cullen shrugged, indifferent to the fate of the beast.

Ashrem went through the Centaur's belongings to see if there was anything of use. Among other things, he found a map of the Fangwood with various places marked off and a small package sealed with wax. Setting the package aside, he took the map and sat down with Cullen to study it.

A little while later, Xin awoke. Makoa filled him in on what had happened as he continued to tend to Trinauld. Cullen and Ashrem were still studying the map by the fire, while Kinning roasted the rabbits. Xin took the package and moved away from the others.

A few moments later Xin returned. “What was in it?” asked Makoa, nodding in the direction of the opened package. Xin handed it to him. It was empty apart from a torn letter.

“Is that it?” asked Makao, frowning. Xin nodded, sitting down next to the fire.

“Bollocks,” said Makoa, shaking the package, “There was something in this. What was it?”

Cullen, Ashrem and Kining were now all looking directly at Xin.

“There wasn't...” replied Xin, starting to deny it. But, after seeing the others staring at him, he reluctantly reached into his cloak and tossed Makoa a broach. “I didn't think anyone would find much use for it,” he mumbled, moving away from the fire.

Cullen balled his hands into fists and made to stand up but Ashrem restrained him, shaking his head.

The atmosphere was tense and uneasy as they shared the roast rabbit, before settling down for an uneasy night.

Day 26

The following day, as the rosy-fingered dawn tried to pierce through the gloom beneath the canopy, a tired-looking Makoa stood, stretching his lean and lanky frame. “No good,” he said, shaking his head at the others as they awoke, “Too far gone.” He pulled out a dagger and slipped it smoothly under the Centaur's chin into his brain, before wiping the blade clean on its flank. “Now...for some food!” he said, cheerfully.

Sat around the cold camp fire, they finished off the rabbit as they mulled over the events of the previous day and what it meant for their plans. The Centaur's map showed some caves not far to the east of their present position, just beyond the hunter's stead. Kinning argued that this could be a good site for a new camp for the survivors, further into the forest and away from the Ironfang search parties. She also argued that finding a new camp was urgent, not least because the survivor's existing camp was clearly marked on the Centaur's map. If he had known, then it would not be long before the Ironfang Legion did too..if they didn't already.

Cullen, though reluctant to delay the search for Fort Trevelay and the rangers, acknowledged that the survivors needed to move camp as a matter of urgency. The others, too, were all in agreement. The decision was made. Head to the caves via the hunter's stead.

Day 27

By mid-morning of the following day, they came to a part of the forest that seemed eerily quiet. They began to notice strange scratches on the trunks of trees as well as the bones of many small animals littered about. Makoa discovered some recent tracks which, he said, belonged to a large cat-like creature. A lynx, perhaps. Then they heard a distant mewling, echoing through the trees.

Undeterred but wary, they pressed on, moments later finding themselves standing on the edge of a clearing. In the middle of the clearing stood a wooden cabin, fallen into disrepair with a partially collapsed roof. The clearing itself was overgrown and it would not be many more years before the forest reclaimed it completely.

Makoa pointed to the track leading into the clearing, whereupon could be seen a number of small humanoid tracks. “Fey, I reckon,” he said, frowning.

“Mites?” offered Xin, stooping to look at the tracks, “We came upon some several days ago...and not too far from here.”

“”Could be,” said Makoa, nodding, “I've heard some about those critters. Not good. Old tracks, though.”

Cullen shrugged, swinging his shield onto his arm and drawing his sword. “Shall we?” he asked. Ashrem drew his sword and the two of them cautiously approached the door of the cabin. Makoa kept several paces back with his crossbow drawn, while Xin and Kinning stayed on the edge of the clearing.

Cullen stood at the cabin door for a moment, listening intently. He looked at Ashrem, shaking his head, then opened the door. There was a creak and then a thud as a bolt flew out of a small hidden opening, punching Cullen in the chest. An “Umph!” escaped from the burly warriors lips but luckily his armour saved him from anything more than a nasty bruise.

As the door swung open, Cullen caught a glimpse of a room in disarray. Broken furniture and belongings were strewn about the place and all of it covered in the grime of many years. There was also a dead thing sitting on a stool. The dead thing stood up and shuffled towards Cullen.

Suddenly, there was an animal growl from outside. Cullen turned around to see a large bobcat leap from the undergrowth onto Makoa's back. Stabbing its claws into the half-Orc's sides, it bit him savagely on the back of the neck. Makoa collapsed to the floor.

Xin, from the edge of the clearing, raised his hands and, muttering strange words of power, hurled bolts of burning energy from his hands towards the creature which hissed in pain.

Cullen took all this in with a glance. He slammed the door closed and leapt from the top step, running towards the bobcat. He tripped a hidden bear trap in the undergrowth, but luckily he was moving so fast it closed on nothing but air as he charged past. Ashrem, too, was right behind Cullen as they both reached the snarling beast. The bobcat pounced onto Ashrem, fangs bared as its claws tore at his flesh. Another pair of magical bolts hit the snarling beast as its claws dug deeper into the half-Elf. Cullen lunged at the cat, skewering it with his sword. Tearing the beast from his friend, he flung it to the ground, dead.

At this point, the dead thing had somehow managed to open the door and began to lumber its way towards them. Ashrem, now free of the cat, span around and charged the dead thing...sword cutting deep into the creature's side. Moments later, a pair of burning bolts struck the creature which, undeterred, tried to take a bite out of the lanky half-Elf warrior.

As Ashrem and Xin battled the dead thing, Cullen dropped to his knees to tend to the bleeding Makoa. Pulling a potion from his backpack, he poured its contents into the half-Orcs mouth, instantly reviving him.

Ashrem had by now got the measure of the slow-moving dead thing and, shoving it back with his shoulder, he gave himself enough space to swing at the creature's head. With most of its skull caved in, the thing fell to the ground...really dead this time, he hoped.

After making sure there were no more nasty surprises, the group searched the cabin for anything useful. Finding a few useful odds and ends, they settled down for a much needed rest.

It was, by now, late afternoon. The sun, low in the sky, cast a golden glow among the long shadows of the trees.

For a slightly easier read, a PDF of the write-up on Google Drive here.