Droaam: Graywall and Long Shadows

A DM's Interlude: Asher
Tails in the Late of Night

Asher lays against the hard packed dirt of the Graywall Mountains. His companions rest in a campsite tightly fitted into a flatted section just off a trail, which provides safety but none of the comforts a high born son would wish. Though well tended, something about the large worg bite across his shoulder has a lingering ache that makes it even more difficult to find rest. It is late though, and despite two of the twelve moons in the sky there is a raw feeling of darkness.

There is no rest, but Asher at some point sees the camp around him is empty. The others are gone, their bed rolls and belongings left behind. The smell of the wrog pelts left aside to dry smell tangy and surprisingly putrid. Being alone registers in his mind, but Asher finds himself unable to even turn about to look for where the others have gone.

His eyes stare into the darkness, waiting to be met. Long, strained time passes before yellow eyes appear to stare back. Then another set, and another. Six dead yellow eyes moving forward in the gloom, too low to be a man’s and too high to be a typical beast. Dark figures of exposed muscle and clotted wounds trot into the camp. No guardian stops them. The dead worgs walk ahead with no sign of pain, even as one awkwardly steps down on a broken paw.

“It was to come with us.” The led beast growls in goblin. The voice having a hollow and distant tone, as if it were still speaking from deep in the cave. “It was to come with us, but it cheats!”

The three forms walk past their own pelts, holding a stronger sent of death and rot. Their mouths drip thickened gore from between missing and broken teeth. The remaining shards appear jagged, more viscous then even a full mouth of fangs. Even paces away, Asher can do nothing but stare and smell their decay.

“The Keeper wants it.” The three say together. “The Keeper would have it, and show it the ones it loves.” The are so close now. Cold, lifeless breath hits Asher’s face with each word. “We will give the Keeper a taste.”

“We will bring the taste, and then wait by the Keeper’s feet”

“We will wait at the Keeper’s feet.”

“The Keeper will know it’s taste”

“And the Keeper will let us gnaw on it’s loved ones while we wait.”

Long, cold, rotten tongues slide out and lap Asher’s face.

Asher wakes. His brow wet, with cold sweet or something else.

Worg pelts dry, but their smell hangs in the air.

Makoa - Entry 1
From cutpurses to worgs

Makoa looks at the sleeping people that surround him and shakes his head. “What have I gotten myself into?” he says under his breath.

The bulking Half-Orc towers over them and reaches idly for the dragonshard he wears as a pendant. He wanders over to a nearby tree to lean against during his watch. At nearly seven feet tall, the trinket he begins toying with seems so small in his worn hands. He stares into the deep, rich-purple gem and loses himself in the swirling beauty while beginning to verbally tell it about the recent days.

First he explains that a couple of weeks ago an elf arrived to town and was looking for work. Lord Khundrun approved the placement in Makoa’s barracks and he has since been paired up with the guy a number of times. He seems a solid enough shot with a bow to keep as an ally. So far, it seems like the right idea to keep the guy around.

He continues by stating that upon returning from the most recent assignment, they decided to head out for an ale. Imagine this, the elf even offered to buy the first round. What kind of a Half-Orc could say no to that?

On the way to the closest place with dark enough ale and the proper table space for an arm-wrestling match, the stumble upon an incident in the middle of the square in the Kennels. Despite being off duty, Makoa decides to intervene. A couple of new guys to town seem to have pissed off a street urchin and some of his buddies. Needless to say, one of the buddies was an orc that isn’t about to drop the subject even though I made him…for now.

Turns out the street urchin was trying to swindle the two new guys the whole time (and while some buddies snagged some coins cut-purse style) with some fake, plated coins.

Over a few beers and some negotiations, I…well we both, decided to tag along with our newfound acquaintances for a while. It got us a few gold so far plus the guy owes me a half-decent longbow as long as I help take care of the orc problem. I am thinking the orc and I might be able to settle the issue in a ring somewhere.

You wanna know what the first thing this guy asks after some sleep and a good breakfast? If we can hunt down some worgs for him! He definitely has me guessing at every turn.

That was this morning. We just spent all day hunting three of these things down and I practically had to pull this insane caster guy out of a worg’s stomach. Good thing Finn was there or he might not have pulled through.

Overall, it is definitely some excitement. No idea how it will all work out. Now to finish prepping these skins and teeth for sale tomorrow. I bet I might already be halfway to getting that bow.

Even if these two are crazy, I am curious to find out where this whole ordeal goes.

Makoa tucks the shard back away and thinks for a second that he hopes he didn’t miss anything in the last few minutes during watch. He checks all three people are asleep still, finishes the preparations for tomorrow and then goes and wakes up the next guys for watch.

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