We were joined in our adventure on the Thunder Bird by the young Anmangarn half-breed Lhankor Mhy initiate, Varanos, whom the Black Spears sent on the journey to keep a protective eye on the sacred spear of the Colymar. Despite his questionable parentage and a reputation for bucking authority, his mentor, Hastur the Lawspeaker himself, vouched for Varanos’ honor and intelligence. Leika, who is willing to defer to her Ring when they speak wisely, agreed and sent Varanos along as her eyes and ears. After all, the last time Leika employed us directly, we subverted her goals somewhat. Leika is not a queen who repeats mistakes.
.jw
Fireday, Disorder Week, Sea Season 1627
We survived the fall from the Thunder Bird, miraculously. We awoke to find ourselves face down in mud (miraculously not drowned, too), with spear-wielding baboons pawing at our metal valuables. Berrik awoke quickly and baring teeth and growling in Beastspeech, he convinced the baboons to back off and engage us in relatively polite conversation. The baboons apologized with open-paws, saying they thought we were dead. They laughed at us whenever we mentioned riding to Prax on the Great Thunder Bird (“Thunder Bird?! Yeah, right, humans so funny. Baboons know this is joke!”). They helped us orient ourselves: we were somewhere near Corflu, in the Zola Fel River Delta, hundreds of miles off our original course to Pavis. The baboons told us that Corflu was a ruin now, and that Pavis was a ruin, too. The only city left in Prax that wasn’t a ruin was Monkey Ruins. Stupid humans, we call it Ruins to trick you. Despite suffering their ridicule, the baboons gifted us with some half-eaten fish and eels and wished us good luck on our journey.
Berrik decided to head towards Corflu, despite the baboons telling us it was in ruins. Fortunately, we came across two affable Riverfolk, Sarky and Dagis, who helped us. Leading us along the shore as far as possible, Dagis finally departed in their little coracle to return a few hours later with a larger fishing boat we could all fit in. They then paddled us northward, through the marsh, to the little fishing village of Reedy.
At Reedy, we were treated well, fed, and introduced to Captain Namarth, sun-weathered captain of the riverboat, The Bluefish, and his two children and crew, Summy and Liss. For a fee of 50L, Namarth was happy to carry us to Pavis, a journey he had made many times for trade. He also obliquely indicated that he would be happy for strong company, as the river was acting weirdly lately, but he didn’t want to discuss it further.
In the distance, to the west, we could see the smoke fires of the Corflu pirates rising. Why didn’t the pirates attack Reedy, we wondered? Because they do not know, or care, that we are here.
We spent the night on The Bluefish, anchored upon the Zola Fel. The sounds of mosquitoes and frogs echoed all around us. Aeson had a vivid nightmare of giant red spiders on a desolate moon. When he awoke, we were already under way.
Klw
Wildday, Harmony Week, Sea Season 1627
We left the swamps and marshes of the river delta behind and entered the great wide canyons of the lower Zola Fel. The river was flooded with the spring melt from the distant Rockwood Mountains and the sailing was easy under the capable hands of Namarth and his children. The distance cliffs, easily kilometers away east and west, rose above us. To the west, beyond the 300 meter cliffs, would lie the sacred chaparral of Prax, and to the east, beyond the taller 1000 meter cliffs, would lie the harsh desert of Vulture’s Country and the desolation of Genert’s Wastes. By late afternoon, we had arrived at the permanent fishing village of Lokazzi (perhaps 35 kilometers north of Reedy), where we spent the night among its stone and adobe walls, eating, dancing, and story-telling with the locals.
That night, Obrast had a wet dream that he was incredibly sexy and she was just going to love him. When he awoke, we were already under way.
Xlw
Godday, Harmony Week, Sea Season 1627
Click to Enlarge
Past Lokazzi, we left behind the wide canyons of the lower Zola Fel and entered the South Bog. Midges, biting flies the size of one’s thumb, and mosquitos descended upon us. To make matters worse, a sandstorm blew in from the northeast, forcing Captain Namarth to tack frequently and slowing our progress upstream.
An unusual event occurred: a school of fish came flying up the river, above the water. They leapt and danced through the air just as if they were in the river, but they did this just above the water’s surface. A few landed in The Bluefish, and we threw them back in the Zola Fel, only to see them leap immediately back into the air and rejoin the school.
Unable to escape the South Bog quickly, we were forced to anchor midstream and sleep out the night, feasted upon by insects and haunted by odd calls and loud splashes of creatures in the distance. Once or twice, something pushed past the boat, heading upstream. But no one dreamed anything.
wlw
Waterday, Harmony Week, Sea Season 1627
The next day, despite the cursed winds still pushing out of the north and east, we escaped the South Bog and entered the narrow canyons between the sacred North Head Acres to the west and the Eyes Rise Flat to the east.
But by midmorning, Namarth was forced to stop the boat as the river was blocked by frolicking undines; Namarth did not enough magic to shoo so many of them away, so we just had to wait.
As chance would have it, we anchored within the looming shadows of the Five Eyes, a canyon wall that came down right to the river’s edge. Within the cliff face were five massive cave entrances that looked very, very much like eyes staring out at the river. We felt a strange compulsion to investigate those caves; besides, there was nothing else to do on the boat.
We found each “eye” filled with a globe of seawater. Two were deadly hot or cold to the touch (which we absolutely did not touch). Two were scaldingly hot or bracingly cold, and one was pleasantly warm. We pushed through the pleasantly warm globe and found ourselves within the ancient Five Eyes Temple.
We soon found ourselves within the temple sanctum, were dozens of newtlings, undines, and water horses cavorted, danced, made-out, and otherwise partied-down in the foaming water, music, and light. We found ourselves drawn in, attempting to trace unseen magical pathways with our own dancing. Varanos, unaccustomed to heroquesting, fumbled and flailed helplessly upon the edges of the ceremony, but Aeson and Berrik plunged (literally) ahead, dancing, swimming, mounting a water horse, and, climatically, pleasing the Frog Woman. Aeson took the lead with his nimble tongue and as the Frog Woman achieved what she wanted most, the newtlings exploded into a orgy of reproduction around us.
While the newtlings spawned around us, we saw a crested dragonewt we had not seen before (Were they even there before?) beckoning us to speak with them. The dragonewt was none other than Sarna Ya’qal and his mutilated translator, Slave to Lies. Sarna Ya’qal drew us a frustratingly oblique (stereotypically for dragonewts) message upon the sand, which Slave to Lies translated for us:
Click to Enlarge
“Sarna Ya’qal says: Storm Dragon has risen. Sun Dragon has risen. Sea Dragon is rising. Darkness Dragon will rise. Mountain Dragon will rise. All five Dragons shall ascend to the Moon. Things fall apart: the centre cannot hold. The circle of dragon power must be complete. And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Boldhome to be born?”
If we learned anything at Five Eyes Temple, it was the sacred words that begin and end all sacred Zola Fel ceremonies: Go With the Flow.
People We Met
Cheeky Bj
Cheeky, Son of Chuff, lives in the Zola Fel delta. He is a troop leader and rather talkative for a baboon. Intimidated by Berrik, he made no move to challenge us and instead proved very helpful. He prejudicially scoffed at most anything we said, but was nonetheless informative. He even gave us some half-gnawed raw eels to slake our hunger, most certainly either a sign of great respect, or a prank, or both. Certainly, we know a lot more of the true history of Glorantha now thanks to his tutelage.
Sarky and Dagis wl
Inseparable friends in their mid 40s, Sarky (the thin one) and Dagis (the big one) saved us from stumbling into Corflu and falling prey to the Wolf Pirates.
Sarky is a scrawny, near-sighted beanpole, twitchy and talkative, who enjoys showing off his (rather limited) knowledge and experience, and his (similarly limited) language skills – he speaks native Boatspeech, fluent Pavic, and fairly poor Sartarite, Praxian and New Pelorian.
Dagis is large, somewhat overweight, patient, slow-moving and mostly speaks in monosyllables: “Yup,” “Nope,” “Mebbe so,” and “I reckon.” He often sucks on a tasty marsh-reed with gusto.
Both riverfolk men live in the small river village of Reedy, at the north end of the Zola Fel River Delta. They have dealt with adventurers like us before. Or so they told us over reedbeer in Reedy.
As we drank with them, Dagis nudged Sarky and Sarky, somewhat timidly, asked to see our tattoos. Both men seemed disappointed, as we did not bear strong and obvious water, harmony, and movement runes combined in a certain way. They seemed especially disappointed that Aeson did not. When pressed, they admitted that years ago, they had rescued a Yelmalian, an Uroxi, and an Arroyan who all seemed lost and confused, had encountered Chuff the Baboon and his troop, and all bore the sacred runes of the Zola Fel. Sarky and Dagis ferried the heroes to Corflu, which was not occupied by pirates then, and helped them find the local newtling shaman, Sa’ar, who explained the meaning of the Zola Fel stigmata to the heroes. Over time, tales of the heroes’ exploits along the Zola Fel drifted down river, much to Sarky and Dagis’ delight, as they had been the first people, besides baboons anyway, to meet them.
I realize this information may come as a surprise to you, but please forgive me. I was not on my best form during the session and this important little detail got dropped from the narrative (soon after we stopped playing, I was in the ER until 2AM). I apologize, but hope you enjoy this little tidbit of connectivity nonetheless.
Captain Namarth wls
Gruff and weathered beyond his years, Captain Namarth has been sailing his festively festooned felucca, The Bluefish, up and down the Zola Fel for most of his adult life. Though a widower, his late wife (Nesmee) granted him two handsome children: Summy, now a fine lad of 17, and Liss, a pretty young girl of 15, who are not only his children but his crew. He loves them both very much.
Underneath his gruff and weathered exterior, Namarth is a kind-hearted man (like most riverfolk) and a dedicated worshipper of Zola Fel. He is perhaps one of the best sailors on the river. When he dies, Summy will inherit The Bluefish.
Sarna Ya'qal A
We first met the crested dragonewt, Sarna Ya’qal, when trying to find the dream dragon, Yezerum Storm. He and his cadre of dragonewts came upon us in the Thunder Hills, where his ever-present voice, Slave to Lies, translated for us.
Sarna Ya’qal asked us to deliver utuma to Yezerum Storm, which we did. For this, Sarna Ya’qal admitted to being eternally grateful.
To meet such a powerful dragonewt once is notable. To meet the same one twice is unbelievable. Our fates, as the wise people would say, are entertwined.
Foundry Chat Log