The boat ride spanned half a shadow’s time, and the calm sea journey was uneventful, almost narcoleptic. Our three drowsy adventurers would have been taken flatfooted, if anything had rose out of the waters at them. But the tranquility prevailed, almost too well.
Before long, they saw it; the island loomed before them – and given their proximity now, they were able to see that the shore looked unnatural, as if it were presented to them from under a veneer of glass. At the same time, the perimeter of tree cover surrounding the shore looked singed badly, as if a large crater or fireball had devastated whatever used to be there.
If they were looking for a beach resort or a nice island getaway, this sure was not it. The remnants of the shoreline certainly gave new definition to the function of a Welcome mat.
At the same time, the boatsman piped up in his reedy voice, “Ye all hear me. I ain’t going no further than ther’, yuh see?” His gnarled hand, ravaged with the blisters of boat rowing over time, pointed out what seemed to be a makeshift jetty near the far end of the beach. “S’no good, dis isle. Ye stories, aye, they’d be told. An’ I don’t intend to tread where foul spirits roam.”
His rowing picked up speed, and soon, a gnome, a halfling and a clerk of TNR were left, confuzzled, on the edge of the island as the boatsman sped off without so much as a hasty, “An’ I’d be gone now! *muttermutter*”
Trudging around the shore, they noticed their boots did not sink into the sand. Instead, a thick layer of glass lined the whole area, and remains of what used to be the animal inhabitants of the island lay encased beneath the surface – like some old archeological museum.
“Perhaps…” the clerk offered hesitantly, “whatever singed the trees also turned the sand into glass.”
“Yeah, well. No green device to be found here anyway.” The halfling trudged forward towards the trees.
The stroll across the beach was actually quite treacherous, what with renegade shards of glass sticking up dangerously, and the smooth surface, slimy and slippery with sea salt and scum that had gathered over the years, was a challenge even for the more agile folk.
Halfway to the trees, the clerk tripped over a protrusion in the glassy sand and fell over. “Crrrrakkk”, the sand mocked, and cracks appeared on the glassy surface from where a chicken bone poked out of the sand. The clerk picked himself up, clambering from his hands and knees, when suddenly he was accosted by a huge chicken skeleton, sans head, that had sprung from under the cracked glass and was swinging at him with its huge bony appendages.
“AIEEEEE!” he shrieked, alerting LaGrad, Subway and Sandwich, who yipped with all his might at the ferocious headless chicken.
Soon, three such birds surrounded the party, flapping their now-flightless wings angrily as they stomped on the sand.
“Gah. Did I mention I hate chicken?” the halfling exclaimed, clipping one of the creature’s wings with a bullet.
“Everything tastes like chicken,” the gnome shrugged, as she charged at the bird closest to her with her sword, as Sandwich eagerly tore off its leg.
“Ahhh!~” the clerk screamed, narrowly dodging a clawed leg that came to scratch at him and inadvertedly brandishing his stick, he managed to smash the chicken’s ribcage.
“Chicken feet!” LaGrad exclaimed, pumping more lead into the creature most fowl before him, sending it toppling to the ground in a heap of bones.
“This is fowl play -__-“ Subway tare-d across the glass, flanking one of the creatures with her dog while the clerk relentlessly beat at his chicken with his tree branch.
Before long, the party resumed their journey into the thick foliage before them, giving no bones to the matter past.
The forest was surprisingly lush and thick, despite the heat it had borne. The sun’s rays still emerged as dappled pools of light, although the thick canopy blocked out most of the blue sky above. Our adventures were headed to what they spied could be a tower in the middle of the island, where rumour had it that was where the green contraption was kept.
After trekking for quite a distance, suddenly Sandwich barked excitedly and stopped, turning around to bark at the party. “What’s wrong, Sandwich?” Subway asked, but the answer was suddenly clear – as clear as the deep gash that lay before them, half-covered in thick foliage and unseen to those with a low spot check.
“Dang. A ravine.”
“Looks like we gotta make a detour.”
“s’ getting dark an’ looks lik’ rain, what yer all think of that place over there?”
Behind them, a church-like structure stood on the low mound of a hill, almost beckoning …but first, the party had to shimmy down a narrow path that led down to the bottom of the ravine, slick and slippery from the moisture below. The ravine seemed to be a near-dried up canal of sorts, with puddles of wet and large flat smooth rocks.
***************************
Because I am insanely far behind in rolling out our past adventures, I think I will embark on a more doable summary of events past.
The Beetles! And Fan Memorabilia
While navigating the puddles of the ravine, large beetles with a veneer of metallic blue on their shells roused from their slumber and attacked the party. Native insects to the isle of Fontia, they were cleared relatively quickly, with the party looting the carapaces for shields and beetle hats. LaGrad gets rather squeamish at bugs, secretly, so he won't admit he was pretty freaked out by this encounter, but not to the extent that he suffered any penalties nor was rendered immobilised.
As Dead As A... Churchmouse?
It was still overcast when the party reached the abandoned church on the gentle hill. There was pretty much nothing to do there, and from their vantage point, they spotted a village below in the foliage that seemed to have decent lodging and cover from the rain. Hopefully there wouldn't be anymore corpses lying around. If there had to be a dead body, pray that it'd be one generously laden with gold pieces. While the sky rumbled grumpily and sang words of promised rain, the party, with their hands full, left the clerk of TNR (whose senses had already left him) in a hole in the floor of the church. No one knows what happened to the poor guy. Word has it that the rains filled the hole and he drowned.
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