Drûr 1-3, 652 DR: Marcus flees the ravenous Shykyr, finding the others at a riverside shrine to Jarjàða. Xoren’s spell puts the monster to sleep, and it is killed. A temple map is retrieved from Marcus’ dead client. Marcus makes a shelter when none can be found. Strange voices warn the resting group of approaching Ortor. A band of Agâru are dispatched and deposited into the devouring river. A waterfall and its reptilian sentries. Descent from a fallen tree. The door behind the waterfall.

Aldor, 1 Drûr 652

Xoren approached the vine enveloped shrine, fatigued from the day’s journey. Nearby, the Run Sūluð carved its sapphire way through the rain forest toward the distant Nyr Sūdul. Four days had passed since Xoren had left the throngs of the City of Jædð, and still no treasures were to be found along this pilgrim road. Ducking into the low doorway, Xoren met the stare of two statues encrusted with colorful gems. Eyes wide, Xoren then noticed the priest sitting at the statue’s feet. Xoren dropped a stone to the floor but the priest did not move. Another dreamer. Stepping nimbly around the priest, Xoren lifted a dagger to Jarjàða’s swirled emerald and blue gemmed eye, to pry it from it’s stony socket. Suddenly entombed in unwaking darkness, Xoren faced the priest who asked “What are you doing here?”. But before Xoren could release all the lies welling within, the priest disappeared.

Outside the shrine, Cimrûn heard footsteps racing up the path. Soon a man appeared bedecked in leather armor, swords, and a bow in his hand, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Spying the small shrine, the man turned and dove through the door. Cimrûn saw the shadow of something winged curve above. A terrible shriek filled the air. Catching his breath, the man explained to the priest that his client had been torn to shreds by another of the creatures, despite his warning to flee. At this, the sleepingXoren awoke in the cramped quarters of the shrine. “What is it?” Xoren asked. The armed man looked about. “They are Shykyr” he explained, telling that he had not encountered them this closely before. After much deliberation, Xoren agreed to check on the creature. Darting out of the shrine, Xoren found the green scaled creature perched atop the shrine’s conical stone and vine roof. As the creature unwound its tail to pounce, the nimble Xoren dove back into the shrine.

After more shrieking and discussion, Marcus crept out the door, hiding among the vines. Placing an arrow in his bow, he fired at the Shykyr. The creature unwound itself and pounced on the archer as an arrow tore through a membranous wing. Claws flashed forward, tearing at Marcus’s armor. Cimrûn moved to his aid, and with a prayer and a light touch placed the creature into a sound sleep. Marcus drew his sword, and thrust it through the thing’s scaled head. Returning to the shrine, the forest became drenched by downpour. Soon Marcus and Xoren ventured back down the path in the rain to investigate Marcus’ “client”. They came upon the insect-clouded, eviscerated remains of a man close to where the the first Shykyr had attacked. After looting the corpse, they returned to the shrine. Marcus handed Cimrûn a folded paper found among his client’s remains. Between the stains of blood and sweat, Cimrûn noted that the paper was a temple map. Marcus explained that he’d been hired to lead the man to a high place in the Sleeping Mountains, and was to wait three days while the man continued alone from there.

Marcus hunted some small jungle beast and cooked a fair meal. After eating, a pale hooded woman appeared at the shrine door and offered a prayer at the idol of Jarjàða. Seeing the crowd gathered within the shrine, she asked for directions to another shrine, and left into the rainy night.

Kændor, 2 Drûr 652

The next morning, Marcus made a simple breakfast and the group continued deeper into the Dreamlands. Xoren continued nervously along the riverside path, jumping at sudden jungle sounds. The heavy lidded Cimrûn continued slowly, sometimes drifting in and out of conversation, as if even walking could not prevent meandering between the waking and sleeping dream. That evening, the trio searched for the next wayside shrine but found none. Marcus gathered branches and leaves and by nightfall had constructed a shelter for the night.

That night, Marcus awoke to sounds of distant conversation. After waking his fellows, the ranger gathered his things and slipped from the shelter into the rain outside. Xoren too gathered her equipment and moved into the forest outside. Soon, the misshapen Ortor could be seen walking up the trail. None could understand its tongue, but their glistening weapons bespoke of a hunt. One of the creatures stopped short, spying Xoren in the bushes. Raising a curved dagger, the Ortor screamed and charged the thief. Arrows sliced through the undergrowth, wounding the last Ortor. Xoren clambered up the nearest tree trunk, the dagger’s blade narrowly missing her leg and burying itself into the trunk beside her. Marcus dropped his bow and and drew his blades. With one sweeping cut a shower of blood spewed from the creature, but before it could fall to the ground his second sword slid into the Ortor’s gut. Cimrûn stepped from the shrine and placed his sleeping hand onto the second creature, who fell drowsily to the forest floor. Xoren tumbled from the tree perch, burying a dagger into the last of the Ortor. After disarming and looting the creatures, the three dragged the bodies to the river and tossed them into the black waters. Within seconds the waters frothed with activity. The awakened Ortor’s gasp from being thrown into the river swiftly turned to screams of horror. Its horrible screams soon ended.

Malor, 3 Drûr 652

The next day, the group continued upriver. Within the first watch, they arrived at a scenic waterfall. The pool at the waterfall’s base was surrounded by large reptiles, basking in the blazing sunlight. Looking closely at the waterfall, Marcus spied a stone doorway behind the falling waters. Climbing the trail beside the waters, Xoren made note of a large tree that had fallen into the river above the falls. Walking out on to the log, Xoren fastened a rope to the log and tied the other end around Cimrûn’s chest.Marcus and Xoren then lowered Cimrûn into the rushing waters at the river’s center. The priest however has unexpectedly pulled by the rushing waters, and with flailing arms disappeared over the waterfall’s edge. As Xoren and Marcus clambered for a second hold on the rope they found it taut, and then quite slack. Walking back to the shore, Marcus ran to the escarpment to see if the priest had fallen into the pool. Below, the reptiles circled but did not feast. Cimrûn cast a small spell to part the falling waters into a window. He explained that he was fine and that a passage led beneath the falls. Marcus climbed back out along the fallen tree and allowed Xoren to tie him. He too then jumped into the rushing river. Using a branch as leverage, Xoren slowly lowered the ranger over the waterfall and safely onto the door’s threshold beneath. When the rope grew slack again, Xoren grabbed it and lowered herself into the waters, remembering vividly the meat-eating waters that had disposed of the Ortor bodies. Once in the rushing waters she began toward the waterfall’s edge but lost her grip on the slick rope. Dragged swiftly to the edge she grasped frantically for the jutting stones, but they too were too slick to find purchase, and the young woman was sucked out and over the falls. Beneath, the reptiles snapped with hunger while closing in for the feast. Seeing the shape of Xoren falling past the door, Marcus wrapped the rope around one arm and dove from the doorway into the pool below. Dropping into the water, the ranger at first did not see the fallen thief. Then the limb body of Xoren rose in the churning waters before him. Grabbing Xoren’s unconscious form he tugged at the rope. Above, Cimrûn pulled with all his strength, and with great effort was able to drag the two from the churning waters. Two of the reptiles snapped at Xoren’s feet but she managed to kick them aside. Safe, and all quite out of breath, the three sat in the strange stone corridor behind the waterfall. Cimrûn placed a hand of healing on Xoren, and all sat in silence for a several minutes, wondering how close had come to joining the queues of Drāūn.

Continued in Dol Tazhnur Medur.

Characters

• Cimrûn of Sūdul
• Marcus
• Xoren of Ðojir
• Astara
• Cul Lomun

Played: 04 Apr 1999