Your parents had died and before their bodies, the village elders of Guatl called forth Plutoq from his rocky home. He had walked forth from the cliff that faced the main square of the city and stood facing the icy face of the Chimatepec mountains far across the valley. His avatar stood no taller than any Golliath, but the sense of permanence about him was unmistakable. He was older than the mountain. There stood your most revered god and he looked into the eyes of your parents’ only child’s soul. Your green eyes blazed in recognition of him. And then, he spoke the prophesy. He spoke at your parent’s funeral rites. He spoke of the one who would overthrow the gods that had so carelessly done this to your parents. The village never let you forget this moment. They treated you differently from that point and kept you in the temple, teaching you everything they could of the Tamqua, but you learned little.
One cantrip you remembered. Rub heat into your hands and clutch a stone, say the word from the old language and then throw it forth Out would spring a magma mephit that would do your bidding for ten minutes and he fade back into the Tumqua. You could only do it once before taking a long rest. There was so much more to learn, but your mind was in turmoil. By now, you have decided to leave the village and pursue your destiny. You could always learn more Tumqua from others along your path. You have never left your city on the cliff, where you helped your father grow the stone house that you played in. The white hill town was beautiful. They say that you were 10,000 feet above the sea, but that meant little to you, but if you were to leave, that is where you must begin. You must go down the mountain and go to the great port city of Baya. How will you prepare and how will you go?
———-
While gathering up those belongings that seem essential for my travels, it occurs to me that I don't really know where to find those fabled places that Songweaver mentions so often in the takes of great adventures. Perhaps I should visit Farwalker and see if he will let me copy one of his trading maps. But do I really want to announce that I am leaving, or should I sneak off. If many in the town get wind of my plans, they will want to have a great farewell feast, and I'll have to listen to them speak on and on about my destiny yet again. Do I really have a destiny? Is that what I'm seeking, or am I just running away from all the pressure. I don't really know. Maybe a bit of both, really. But I do know that I need to go. Maybe I can convince Farwalker to keep things quiet. Guess there's nothing to it but to go and find out. I finish packing up my things and head out for Farwalker's place...
———-
You finish packing your pack and wait until the cover of dusk to make your way to Farwalker’s. He doesn’t answer the knock on his stone cave door but it is unlocked as all the houses here are. You press the gem at the nameplate and the stone melts away for you to enter. It reforms as you walk into a comfortable den full of strange artifacts. You pick up a stone totem beside the entry to admire it and it shocks you, your teeth gritting until you can utter a password he had taught you. You are more careful, remembering all the wards that Farwalker has placed on his memoirs. One small piece of obsidian overcomes your caution and you peer into its depths
There is the ocean with a strange seed the size of a tree on a seaweed shore. The waves break, swirling the seaweed but never threatening the giant seed. You hear it hum over the sound of the ocean. The sun has sunk on the scene so you put down the stone. You know the sun has sunk outside as well.
On his desk is the map. No wards. The map is dangerous enough for to peer at it makes you yearn for adventure. You never looked at it before like this, like you might need it.
"So you are ready?" Booms a loud voice behind you. You start, as you had not heard the door and knew that you would and still had not.
The great hulk of Farwalker bends under the beams as he sets his staff against the wall. He is lean and dark and usually quiet.
"I see you are packed. Why have you not left yet?" He grins. "Ah, you have conjured me. You spoke my name and formed me into existence to answer to you. Well done! Am I and my study not impressive? What do you need Little Cloud Blower?"
He was always strange, you think. Maybe the elders are right that he has traveled too far and lost his mind?
"Not so!" he answers. "I was never been able to go deeper into the Chapullelel Jungle to get to Lopango where the most beautiful women ever are said to live. The beasts in the jungle will flay your mind and eat your brains. No, I have only walked so far."
"Have you walked to that seed?" You ask pointing to the obsidian.
He frowns, pauses and considers. "Yes, Stormslayer. It is in the archipelagos off the northernmost coast of Kolan and can be reached from shore at low tide. There are some terrors that are better experienced than described. I walked there. You named me. I am no Farsailer." He tries to grin.
You look back to the map.
https://pin.it/1oqWdw1
"Now, what do really want to ask?"
———-
I look around, trying to think of some way to stall, but then realize that Farwalker's insights have been piercing through me, almost as if he could read my mind. There was no point. Had I really come here to see the map, or to ask the question. The question that has been burning in my heart for as long as I can remember.
And yet... I'm still not ready to speak it. Do I really want to know if I am the one spoken of in the prophecy? Farwalker, strange and mystical as he is, might actually know...
I open my mouth, thinking I might be able to just choke it out, get it over with. Instead, I just choke. "Ca- c- can I...", I shake my head, start over, "I mean, do you have any copies of this map? Or can I make a rough copy of it? If you don't mind, sir."
What it is about him that does this to me? I still feel like a child, and even act like one when I'm around him. Stuttering? Stumbling? I'm no fool. I almost tried to come up with some dumb excuse for wanting it, when he's already deduced that I'm heading out.
"And, ehemm... while I'm asking," I try to utter more confidently, "would you care to help me mark out the specifics of where that seed is? I may want to visit it someday..."
There, that sounded more adult-like... I just hope he didn't notice the slight tremble that snuck in there near the end.
———-
You are so entertaining Little Cloud. You should share these gifts with the world. Yes, yes, indeed, call this map my parting gift as well as a good kick out the door with my boot. Whoa, don’t roll it up so fast and don’t mind the table.
"Wh..What?" You stumble and crush one of the table legs.
I have time enough to draw a new one from memory and fix the table. Here, I’ll mark the island, just west of the most northern tip of the Kolan mountains. But you intend for Baya, do you not? You can take the full elevation change now down to the coast and then make your way up the coast to the inlet of Baya. Or you stay in the mountains while the spring water thaw and then drop down at the last of your three days into the inlet without seeing the sea. Your choice. You will have many choices. If you choose to go to the seed, remember to come out. Go. Follow your destiny and make it what you want of it. I will be proud of your journey no matter where it leads. I will tell you something though. You are not the one Plutoq spoke of.
You fall back relieved, justified, and just more than a bit bewildered.
There, go I said. Take your path. You’ll have plenty of time to ponder on whether you wouldn’t have broken the table leg if I had not said something about it first.
He shoves you out the door, a bit more briskly than you would have expected. He was nothing like what you expected. The moon is out and the snow glistens. You leave.
Which path?
———-
Boy can that Farwalker talk in riddles. But it's nice to have the map, that's for sure! And to be free of the prophecy! Phew!
Unless... Was that last comment about whether I would have broken the table let if he hasn't said anything... Was he really talking about the prophecy? Will I become the one in the prophecy by taking his word that I'm not? Aacch. Stupid prophesies and the vague riddles that come with them.
Sigh. Might as well ask whether the egg or the falcon came first! Oh well, it's not as if anything really changed, has it?
Now, I guess I better get moving before anyone (else) sees me. Just standing here, mind wandering... I really need to get my head in the game if I'm going to survive out there on my own.
I think... I think I'll head straight down to the coast. I've never seen the ocean up close, always been there, the vast waters just visible at the edge of the horizon. Plutoq knows I've seen enough mountains in my lifetime... I wonder if I'll ever miss the mountains...
My thoughts ebb and flow as I start down the steep switchbacks that wander their way along the sides of the ravine as I descend away from the familiar and towards the unknown. I should probably be making plans, but for now... I want to be free of fate and destiny, and so I just follow where my feet lead me.
———-
With the relief of not facing your destiny and no longer seeking self knowledge, you nevertheless escape the village in the night. Down the crevices that you have so long hunted, you drop down out of the snowy mountains and out of your own comfortable surroundings with the speed and force of an avalanche.
At the tallest step hills to the moutains, you reach flowered pastures and practically run past elk and lion. The moon is gone and the sun now lights the rim of the snow caps behind you and before you, you see the endless sea ahead and to all sides of you in the sharp light of morning.
Having not taken a rest, you risk the early signs of exhaustion if you go much further. Having practically eaten through the one day of rations you had in the hard hike downhill, you feel the dull and never ceasing hunger that comes from eating hard rations without real food.
Your survival skills kick in. The hair stands up on your neck as you realize that a giant black bear lopes toward you on giant paws with malice to match.
———-
I quickly draw my greatclub, wishing I had thought to carry a stone. I must still be unsettled from that conversation, not thinking clearly. Then a rumbling from my not-quite-satisfied gut reminds me... I could use some fresh meat along the way, and my fiery golem might not leave much edible.
I shift my stance, one leg forward, one leg back, holding my body loose, but ready to spring to action. The bear continues it's loping approach, briefly confused that I do not flee. But then appears to double-down on his charge. I stand ready, unwavering, watching it's gate, estimating it's path and footfalls. If I can time this just right...
At what I hope is the last possible moment, I lunge forward and to the side, turning my whole body as I swing my greatclub, aiming to strike the bear at the nape of it's neck with the full weight of my upper body and all of the strength I can muster, hoping I have not pushed my body to it's limit in my rush down the mountain. Hoping, trusting the adrenaline coursing through my veins to drive this critical strike home...
———-
You readied your weapon and waited for his charge, thus gaining advantage on your blow, but not surprise on the beast. You rolled a 17+1 for initiative but the bear rolled a 19. He reaches you before you can bring down the club with two hands. He attacks with his toothy jaw and rolls a 4, missing your AC and with his claw and rolls a 7, missing. His first attack was wild and ineffective. Your attack slams down with a 7 as well and misses, but since you had advantage you roll twice getting a 23 the second time which does 5 damage to his hind leg as he turns around and renews his attack. So, obviously natures combatants need training. His bite misses again but he lands a 16 to attack striking through your armor and into your shoulder for 6 points of damage. The blood flows down your chest and you retaliate. A 16 and you club him on the head for 10 points. He howls and stands his ground. With no tricks up your sleeve, you watch as he renews the attack. He slams his jaws on your already hurt arm but you were able to evade him, but not his claw at 18 which does a mere 3 points. Enough though that death may be an option. Certainly you cannot dash away without him getting an opportunity attack on your fleeing rear end. You dare not disengage and run, for the bear could easily outrun you. Your only brave choice is to attack again hoping for a killing blow. You aim your club for his head and roll an 11 to strike his cranium. His eyes blaze for one second but the damage is enough to smite him. You stand over him triumphant but without glory. You collapse onto its steamy carcass.
———-
After a few moments spent catching my breath, I carefully roll myself off the beast that nearly took my life. I don't know how Beastcrusher took one of these on barehanded and survived, she made it look a lot easier. I think I'll stick to hunting them with a bow from a distance from now on. I shake myself off, grunting a little at the pain this causes in my shoulder. I gingerly strip off my armor and clothes from the wounded areas, and then seek out a patch of fresh clean top-snow.
Man, I need to get my head out of the clouds and slow down, pay more attention. I pick up a handful of snow, grit my teeth, and begin to clean the wounds. I'm barely on my way out, and I already came this close to dying. It hurts, but it's necessary. Handful after handful, always sticking to the top snow, I grind away and flush out the debris. Once the wounds are good and clean, I move on to my armor and clothes. Well, at least I'll have some meat to go with what's left of my hard tack. Once everything has been cleaned well, I wipe my hands in some more fresh snow, then wipe the fresh blood from the wounds. Handful after handful, I pack the wounds with snow, twitching at the occasional pulses of pain. As I put my clothes and armor back on over the snow, the pain starts to fade to a dull throb.
Alright, now to deal with him. Her? I'll worry about finding those healing plants that Fleshweaver taught me about when I helped him dress Tripwalker's wounds once I've got this beast dealt with. I pull out my dagger and begin to process the carcass. As it turns out, it was a he after all. I sure hope he'll earn a new nickname soon, Tripwalker's been rather grumpy about that one ever since. I put aside several days worth of the more palatable strips of meat, taking care to find a clean bit of snow for that pile. Hmmm... I wonder if this pelt will net me a few coins, or a bed and a meal, at the very least. I strip the pelt, then clean it thoroughly. Cutting away the useless parts, I end up with a fairly sizable pair of pelts. Let's see... I can use this for something in the meantime... I carry them over and wrap the salvaged meat up in them.
I'm beat, and I'm hungry... but it seems best not to camp here, next to these remains. Grudgingly, I pick up the pelt wrapped meat, and head on for another hour or so, before finding a good place to make camp. Along my hike to find a place to camp, I keep an eye out for the appropriate herbs, collecting a few here and there, and packing them in the wounds as I went. I wearily set down my package, then start about setting up "camp," or what passes for one. Well, first I tear into one of the strips of bear-steak, raw. Ugh... I hate eating raw meat. I take the rest of the meat, wrap it in one of the pelts, and place it on some thick snow, burying it in a good amount of snow. That should keep it. Why didn't I think to bring some salt. Haste. Too much haste. But the snow should keep the smells in, too. No need to draw the predators to me while i rest. I spread out the second pelt, then bunker down with the bedroll from my pack. A good rest is what I need. I'm even tired enough to fall asleep in the daytime...
———-
Your ranger good sense is picking up. As you drag your cache of meat over to safer ground, you hear a howl and whine. Not again! you cry. At the top of the pasture stands on two feet a Goliath of bears, her teats shown bare of hair, her teeth covered with dripping saliva which spits as she pants. Out of the brush just a little ways below your battle scene, two black bear cubs roll out and bound up to see Mama. You put a little quick in your step.
You break into a trot, but quickly swipe healquick and comfeca herb. Did I grab my herbal kit so I can properly use these? Druid Bitterweed will be most disappointed in me. I must be more prepared.
Had you tried to sleep near the carcass, you may never have woken up. As it is, you sleep soundly having chanced your fate to the capricious whims of fortune and survived two wandering monster checks.
Refreshed, you grab some semi-dried meat and stashed the rest in a more organized fashion in your pack with the hide over your healed shoulder, you looking like the barbarian everyone expects and dismisses as uncivilized. You make your way carefully this time to the shore, making less time than when you darted down the mountain.
The sea faces you, smelly and salty and very unappetizing. Seaweed litters the gravelly beach. The moldy heat sinks into your pelt clad skin.
