The Hatred of Heat

If you lived deep inside a glacier, far from the light of day and the warmth of the sun, you would hate heat. Its very existence would threaten your home, your habitat, your environment, your belongings, the resources on which you rely. Even the tiny flame of a torch, which could have no effect on the ancient ice down there, would symbolise the power which warmth has over cold. You would want it extinguished, stamped out. You would see its invasion into your home as an affront. And you would want to eject or kill any warm-blooded intruders from the surface who might bring the threat of heat into your frozen world.

This is the mentality of intelligent beings in the depths of a glacier dungeon.

A Big List of Forthcoming Projects

People on G+ (well, one person anyway) has been asking for an update on what I'm currently working on. Well, I'm very much like Jesus, in the sense that I operate on the basis of ASK, AND YE SHALL RECEIVE. So, here goes, in the order in which they are likely to be released.

1. The Peridot

This is my semi-regular zine. It includes adventure locations and maps, NPCs, monsters, spells and magic items for use in games, as well as an entire unique mini-setting in each issue. Some of its contents are Yoon-Suin related; most are not. It contains the occasional piece of fiction. It typically has more than 50, and less than 100, pages of content.

2. There is Therefore a Strange Land

This is a campaign setting, which was originally planned as a kind of OSR update of Planescape, but with the Regency elements to the fore. It was billed as The Magician's Nephew meets William Blake. It has evolved somewhat since then, and I have recently been giving it considerable thought. My idea now is that There is Therefore a Strange Land is a kind of Ur-Setting. The PCs begin in a miscellaneous European city. They might be dilettantes, scholars, satanists, priests, or alchemists. One of them inherits the study of a dead uncle or aunt who was clearly Up To Something. In this study is a portal, or portals, which lead to another World or Worlds - and these can be anything the DM desires (the Forgotten Realms, Dark Sun, the Abyss, Yoon-Suin, Vornheim, the Warhammer world - or absolutely anything else). There is Therefore a Strange Land is thus a collection of tools for creating the study, the city, the PCs, the other investigating powers in the city, and so forth - the idea being that the existence of the other Worlds is also known by others, who will want to buy whatever the PCs can bring back, kill them as rivals, and so on. Moreover, since it is assumed that the PCs may become rich and powerful as a result of their explorations, there are also mechanisms for establishing power structures within the city with which they can interact. Picture a group of scholars from Regency-era London going to Athas and bringing back a cannibal halfling to sell to the Prince of Brunswick, all the while trying to avoid being noticed by their rivals, thieves, or high society, and you'll have in mind the kind of game that There is Therefore a Strange Land is all about.

3. New Troy

This is a setting loosely based on combing the Matter of Britain with Norse legend, and is a kind of tribute to Jack Vance's Lyonesse trilogy. The setting is New Troy - drawing from the old English legend that the British Isles were settled by refugees from the fall of Troy. There is a hex-map made up of 1-mile hexes, but slippage can take place into the lands of Faerie and Muspelheim. Faerie is a place where time moves much more slowly than it does in New Troy, and is the home of mystical beings and faerie shees. I call it the "Mythic Otherworld". Muspelheim is a place where time moves more quickly, and is constantly divided between the rule of frost giants and fire giants. There are also all manner of Norse and Norse-influenced evil spirits down there. It is a traditional mega-dungeon. The trick is that Faerie, New Troy, and Muspelheim all mirror each other, a bit like 3D chess: they possess the same or similar geographies, and it is possible for events in one world to influence the others. So, for instance, the castle of Kinkernadon finds a replica in Faerie in exactly the same location - Tripsey Shee - and ditto in Muspelheim. If the Lord of Kinkernadon is assassinated, the faerie prince in Tripsey Shee may also come to a sticky end. And so on. This means that the PCs can attempt to attack enemies, conduct heists, and so forth, from world to world.

4. Moons of Jupiter Planetcrawl

I've written enough about this recently: see here.

5. Fixed World [Proper title TBC]

Ditto: see here.

6. A sub-folder I have in my RPG folder on my Desktop entitled Emishi Ezo Ainu Nara Period Setting.

This is an evolution of my old 'Queen Country' idea, which I had been toying with anyway, but which I might now decide to set in an ancient iteration of Kara-Tur's 'Wa'. The PCs take on the role of officials in the budding Japanese Empire, which is spreading its tendrils into the cold North. Here there are strange hairy people called the Emishi, who worship bears, and all manner of supernatural beings, sorceresses, witches, evil spirits, and God knows what else. The PCs get XP for exploration and discovery. 

On the DM's Guild; or, Let's be Innovative with the Forgotten Realms

I was never a fan of the Forgotten Realms campaign setting. That isn't to say I hated it - I never really read a word of it. I was simply vaguely aware of its existence as a teenager, mainly because of the Drizzt novels that festooned the shelves of the F&SF sections of local bookstores. I don't apologise for sounding snobbish: it just seemed far too much like a substandard, or bog standard, Middle Earth. Why play in Forgotten Realms if you can play MERP? Why have cotton, when you can have silk?

So I know next to nothing about it. Something about Faerun, something about the Underdark, something about Kara-Tur, something about Waterdeep. I did play Baldur's Gate for a bit, which I believe may have been set there, but I didn't play it for long and it only confirmed my suspicions that what was going on wasn't particularly interesting. The exception to this is Al-Qadim, which I enjoyed, but which I honestly never had any idea was even the same world.

That doesn't put me in a fantastic position as regards this new DMs' Guild business. (In case you're not aware what this is: it's either a unique opportunity to self-publish RPG material set in the Forgotten Realms via OBS for real money, or an attempt by WotC to co-opt all the DIY D&D stuff going on, depending on how charitable you're being. Either way, I think we can agree that it surely ought to be entitled the Dungeon Masters' Guild.) But I am nonetheless curious. It strikes me as interesting to experiment with, at least: to reach a new audience, make some cash, and also perhaps even subvert things a little bit.

How to get around the fact that the Forgotten Realms, judging by its extensive wikipedia entries, is both really bland and rather restrictive?

The answer is simple: time travel. WotC haven't stipulated anything about the distant future or distant past. So let me offer some sample DMs' Guild submissions:

1) Fantasy world Japanese people in the fantasy world Nara period explore fantasy world Ainu Moshir. The adventurers are officials from Wa in the ancient past, when the frosty north has yet to be settled or explored. There are strange people up there who worship bears, not to mention, natch, glacier dungeons and symbiants. Civilized PCs explore a wild and dangerous miniature New World.

2) Fantasy Aztecs in the future. So there's a fantasy Mexico in the Forgotten Realms, it seems - full of scorpion men, jaguar men, Yuan-ti, and the rest. It's called Maztica. Fast forward 2,000 years. Now all the scorpion men, jaguar men, Yuan-ti and the rest are putting cybernetic implants in their bodies, riding around in driver-less cars, smoking e-cigarettes, and getting tattoos. The PCs are private investigators solving murders: there is a separate police force and legal system for each of the different race, and the PCs have to work in a fashion hidden from the authorities.

3) Fantasy aboriginal people in survival horror world. It's a million years ago. The Stone Age of some region of Faerun which resembles Australia. The PCs are warriors or shamans with clubs, magical tattoos, and the limited power to travel in the Dream World (the Abyss). But there are things living in the Dream World (i.e. devils and demons) who can enter theirs. Cue the PCs exploring a hostile, barren outback where there are amnizus, cornugons, glabrezus, and mariliths, trying the best they can to defend their people and, even, prosper.

4) Dying Faerun. It's a 5 billion years in the future. Faerun's sun is fading. Only one city remains on the surface. Its defiant inhabitants explore the Underdark in an attempt to survive...

Random Moon of Jupiter Generator and Three Random Moons

It's more interesting to come up with details for each of the Moons of Jupiter. But I couldn't resist creating a d20 table to spur the imagination. Here it is.

Let's create some moons.

Moon 1: Terrain - living growth. This moon is a forest of toadstools, mushrooms, and other fungi. It has one main antagonist type: an evil intelligence. A roll of 3 indicates beholders. Excellent: a fungus forest in which lurks a beholder hive mother and her many drones. They enslave anybody unfortunate enough to land, and are busy constructing a magical portal by which they can invade other worlds.

Moon 2: Terrain - Icy. A glacial ball hovering in the void. Main antagonist types are fomorians and a lammasu. There is a special condition of 'unstable'. Clearly, the lammasu was placed on this moon to protect an ancient artefact, temple, shrine, monument or captive. The fomorians dwell in caverns in the ice, perhaps plotting its conquest - or a way to get off this icy sphere and to somewhere where they can satisfy their cruel lusts.

Moon 3: Terrain - Icy. Another glacier world. Main antagonist type is salamanders. Curioser and curioser. The salamanders are clearly exiles from the elemental plane of fire. Having committed some obscure crime, they have been sentenced to punishment by their efreeti overlords to live in suffering for 1,001 years in severe and unrelenting cold. They are desperate to escape, or - even better - return their home plane to wreak horrible vengeance on their betrayers.

I love D&D.

Moons of Jupiter Ring Map

Let's think some more about D&D Moons of Jupiter. Let's also establish none of this is based in physics or actual astronomical reality. We're dealing in broad brush strokes.

This is what I am christening a Ring Map. I've arranged the moons of Jupiter into sections of rings. (Not actually related much to their real orbits.) The way it works is as follows.

Every d6 days the innermost ring rotates one section clockwise. (The irregularity is to do with fluidity of the phlogiston, direction of Jovian Winds, etc.) Every 2d6 days, the second ring rotates one section clockwise. Every 3d6 days, the third ring rotates... And so forth. This is not difficult to keep track of - you just make the rolls at the start of the campaign for all the rings, keep a tally of days, and reroll for a given ring on the predetermined rotation date.

Ships are limited in how far they can travel. Ordinary ships can move only as far as the next moon over in any direction before needing to resupply (or running out of aether or whatever). Very expensive, fancy ships can move two. Sailing between moons takes d3 days.

So, for example, imagine the PCs are on Euporie. They want to get to Adrastea because on that rock lives a medusa who owns a magical amethyst which can cure lycanthropy or whatever. They can get there by hopping to Leda, then Europa, and then Adrastea. Each time they have to stop to resupply and each journey risks an encounter with pirates, dragons, slaad raiders, floathing aboleths, Jovian krakens, plogiston sorcerors, and so forth.

On the other hand, imagine the PCs are on Europa. They need to get to Carpo, because they've heard their enemy, the spinagon Malakofrex, is building a fortress there. They could hop from Europa to Carpo, which would take a number of 'moves'. Or they could simply wait until Europa's orbit catches up with Carpo's and make the move in one easy step - perhaps taking the time in between to research Malakofrex's weaknesses and prepare.

Needs more work: the moons which are just code numbers need Greek sounding names, and maybe some empty spaces would be good to make travel in some regions riskier. But serves as a sort of proof of concept.

Fantasy Moons of Jupiter Planetcrawl

Imagine Jupiter with its (as of 2012) 66 moons (subject which has come up before). Now imagine a Spelljammer-esque game of D&D set there. Ships sailing from frigid Europa (planet of frost giants, ice mephits and white dragons) to fiery Io (the kingdom of the Efreeti). Stopping off at tiny rocky Thebe to pick up a potion of Stone to Mud from the duergar who mine that lonely, isolated speck of stone. Plotting a raid on the Necromancer who has made the moon Praxidike his home, where he is guarded by spectres and banshees shrieking into the cold infinity of space. Afterwards feasting with the hook horrors of Callisto, communicating with your hosts through a sverfnebiln interpreter who taps out words to them in code with a complicated system of pebbles tied to his fingers. You hear a rumour from them that on the rings of Saturn lives a gold dragon, who has buried all his treasures in a huge hunk of ice. He is practically invincible, but on far away Pluto there is the shattered remnant of a gelugon's palace, said to house a trident of dragon slaying in its deepest oubliette....

Moshir and the Symbiant Class

I've been doing some more thinking about the Fixed World. (At some point I will also think up a better name for it than this.)

In the North West of the map is a series of islands where it is always winter and always dawn ("C" on the map).

This is described in my notes as:

A group of islands where it is largely always winter and largely always dawn. Surrounded by semi-thawing pack ice. The seas are home to roving, warring tribes of merrow, who hunt seals and group together on the ice. The land is populated by stone giants, to whom the resident human population - eskimos or paleosiberian types - owe fealty. Little grows except lichens and molds (yellow mold, russet mold, etc.), oozes, jellies, and so forth. Some human tribes have symbiotic relationships with these creatures, and allow them to grow on their flesh.

I am keen on developing both these islands and the small continent to the East (marked "D"), in large part because I am obsessed with creating a megadungeon glacier, or is that glacier megadungeon?, but in small part because, well, this:

But let's explore the idea of the inhabitants of Moshir, which these islands are going to be called, having symbiotic relationships with oozes, slimes, jellies and so forth. I should first caveat this by saying that big elements of this are lifted from the now sadly long-defunct Roguelike game, Tales of Middle Earth, which may very well be the greatest computer game ever created.

Symbiant Class

A symbiant is a human being who can charm oozes, slimes, jellies, molds and the like, and, through a dangerous magical process, enter into a life-sharing relationship with such a creature. This is usually done through allowing the life form in question to enter his or her orifices.

A symbiant has d6 hit points and uses the magic-user level progression chart. His prime requisite is CON. He advances in fighting ability and saving throws as does a cleric.

Symbiants have the following abilities.

Level One: Symbiants can cast the special spell, charm ooze, slime or jelly. They can memorise, and cast, this spell once per day. The function is identical to a charm person spell, but acts only upon primitive life forms.

Level Two: Symbiants gain the power to turn oozes, slimes and jellies in a manner similar to a cleric.

Level Three: Symbiants can cast the special spell, share life. This functions as follows:

First, the symbiant must have charmed an ooze, slime or jelly and have it in his thrall. He then casts the share life spell, and allows the life form to enter him through the mouth, nostrils, and so forth. (Or eats it in the case of a mold.) This process takes one day. The symbiant must make a saving throw vs poison if the life form has a number of HD equal to or greater than his number of levels, with a cumulative -1 penalty for each HD beyond his number of levels. If this saving throw fails, both he and the life form die.

Once the symbiant and another life form are sharing their lives, the symbiant gains half of the hit points of the life form. For instance, if the symbiant has 12 hit points, and his green slime has 8, the symbiant from that moment onwards has 16 hit points (as long as he continues to share his life with the green slime).

The reverse of the spell is called expel life, and causes the life form to leave the symbiant's body. This sickens the symbiant for one week per HD of the life form.

Level Four and onwards: At Level Four, the symbiant can use one attack from his life form, once per day. This increases to twice per day at Level Six, three times per day at Level Eight, etc. For instance, if our symbiant is sharing life with a green slime, once per day at Level Four he can invoke the green slime's attack in addition to his own attack during a combat round.

Level Nine: The symbiant gains all the special defences and resistances of his life form.

[Needs more work, but you get the idea.]

[Actual Play] Cruth Lowlands Campaign: Session 4

The fourth session of the Cruth Lowlands Campaign was a long time coming. For various reasons it dropped off the agenda and it was very hard arranging a resurrection. But it's back now.

Session four was good fun - and strangely enough featured more hireling deaths than monsters, which has to be a first. PCs present:

• Jason, playing Mixahâm Straji, a 1st level magic user
• Patrice, playing Dragosta, a 1st level fighter
• Luke, playing Andy, a 3rd level fighter

The session began with the introduction of a new character, Dragosta, to replace the dead Marm Jo'a. Dragosta is a female barbarian type, with a chain-mail dress and a shield decorated with huge horns. She has gambling debts of 7,000 gp, which is why she needed to join the party.

Initially Andy was not present, so it was just Mixaham and Dragosta, the hirelings Christina, Procopius and Menelaus, and the river pirates Evangelios, Diogenes and Hector. Having reached a natural break in the action from last time, with the Temple of Cronus having been ransacked and a nice reward received as a result, Mixaham and Dragosta decided to investigate nearby caves, known as the Worm's Mouth, which they had heard about from Yokomosok during session one.

They left their cart, and amassed gold, at the Temple of the Elements, and headed off to the cave, which stands at the end of a rocky ravine or chasm. Entering, they managed to clamber their way up a steep scree slope with the help of a lasso, and then investigated what appeared to be a dwarf-made chamber above. Almost immediately they disturbed some creature or creatures which made a horrendous loud chirping or squeaking sound. But they also found some doors. Picking one more-or-less at random, they found it to be locked. Procopius was ordered to barge it down, which he duly did; he then charged through, fell down a flight of stairs, and landed in a heap at the bottom.

It seemed that there were creatures down the stairs, in the darkness, so Dragosta followed. She too slipped on the stairs, which it appeared had been covered in some sort of grease or oil, and fell to the bottom, suffering a minor injury. She looked up and saw two kobolds in the room, menacing them with spears.

Mixaham still had two doses left of his spider climb potion, and used this to clamber into the room by the walls and ceiling, avoiding the grease. The kobolds, seemingly having no stomach for a fight, turned and ran in to another chamber. After the PCs and hirelings had gathered together beyond the greasy stairs, Dragosta, Procopius and Menelaus charged after the kobolds. They found themselves in a room with a murder hole above them, through which two kobolds emptied a large bucket of scorpions, right on their heads. Dragosta made her save, but both Procopius and Menelaus were stung, choking to death on their own tongues.

Dragosta fled back to the others and she and Mixaham hatched a plan to use the spider climb potion to get up into the murder hole and surprise the kobolds. Dragosta slipped inside and killed one of the kobolds in short order; the other meekly surrendered. After numerous threats and clear lies, they were able to get from the kobold the information that there were about twenty kobold males in the caves, plus a number of females, and they were led by a chieftain called Ho El and a shaman called Yezakal. They worshipped a god they referred to as the Mighty Grishnack.

There was no apparent entrance to the murder hole except through the floor, but they also managed to extract from the kobold that there was a secret entrance. They then threw the poor creature to the scorpions and, once this was done, used Mixaham's staff to clear away the scorpions to allow the hirelings to all climb up and join them.

They then tried to open the secret entrance, but found out it was a one-way door which could not be entered through the side they were on. But they also found that there was somebody in a room behind it. Initially, Mixaham (who can speak draconic) tried to pretend he was a kobold, but this wasn't persuasive, so he and Dragosta hit on the plan [DM's note: I was astounded at this] to try to stir up all the kobolds so they would come and attack the murder hole.

This failed miserably, as the kobolds were indeed stirred up, but laid siege to the murder hole instead. With everybody up in the hole it was clear that the group were completely stuck - the kobolds could just starve them to death if they really wanted. So Mixaham and Dragosta decided the only option was parley. They offered to turn to the worship of Grishnack if Yezakal and the other kobolds would let them live. Yezekal and Ho El, instead, offered to let them live if they would go and destroy other creatures who lived in the caves, which they referred to as water demons, who pull unfortunates into an underground lake to drown, then feast on their souls.

Mixaham and Dragosta saw no alternative but to agree, and pledged allegiance to Grishnack and surrendered their weapons and those of the hirelings. The kobolds proved true to their word and allowed the PCs to come down from the murder hole and then reclaim their weapons.

At this point Luke, Andy's player, arrived, so Andy (having been there all along, of course), was able to chime in. The PCs were clearly of the view that they needed to find some way to get out of the caves without having to fight any water demons. They hit upon the idea of pretending they were going to the distant town of Koriszegy to buy a huge amount of salt to pour into the underground lake. The kobolds agreed to this if they left a hostage, and they ended up choosing poor Hector. [DM's note: I rolled a dice for this and was extremely disappointed that it didn't end up being one of the PCs] The deal was that if the PCs did not return within a week with their salt, Hector's throat would be cut. Hector, naturally, begged his boss, Andy, to return.

There was some debate about whether to just run off and leave Hector to his fate, but eventually the PCs came to the conclusion that they ought to at least investigate the possibility of killing the water demons. (There was also considerable discussion of how to come back and get revenge on the kobolds, but they realised they had hired all the hirelings available in Riverfork a few weeks ago, and there were unlikely to be enough left to take on the kobolds, who it seemed also had at least four giant weasels.) They realised that they were on good terms with the Temple of the Elements, who would surely know something about water demons.

The next day they headed back to Riverfork and to the Temple of the Elements. There, they met a sage called Karpi, an expert on elemental water. He surmised that these 'water demons' could be killed either through freezing whatever lake they were in, or casting purify water on it. Either way, it would take a wizard of considerable power. He also reckoned that the 'water demons' had either been summoned by some evil priest or druid to guard something, or the lake which they inhabited was a place where the Elemental Plane of Water nudged up against the Prime Material. He also told them that if they were looking for a wizard of sufficient power, they might ask the Three Faced Wizard, whose tower was three days to the North across dangerous terrain.

The Three Faced Wizard was somebody the PCs had heard of before, and Mixaham had already made it one of his goals to meet this famous archmage. So he was keen to go. Andy was also of the opinion that he owed Hector his loyalty and ought not to just leave him to be killed by kobolds. Dragosta, on the other hand, needed some persuading as to why they needed to risk so much in the name of a hireling. [As Patrice put it, that's like going to find God and then, when you meet him, asking for a good recipe for minestrone] But ultimately he agreed that it might be worth going to meet the Three Faced Wizard anyway.

And at that logical break, the session ended. A lot of negotiation and parlaying this session, and not so much violence. A nice change of pace. Tune in next time for, it seems, an encounter with the infamous Three Faced Wizard.

On Length

One of the things I like most about this hobby is that everything takes a long time. Running a game session takes hours. Preparing for a campaign takes longer. Plotting out a dungeon or a hex map is painstaking. Writing things for publication is a frustratingly drawn-out process, full of false starts and failures and do-overs. Reading rule-books and digesting them can't be done in an hour.

All of this feels, to me, like an antidote to the world we live in - the web of tweets and video games and work emails and internet arguments and forgettable clickbait bullshit that can drag you down and turn your life into a hollowed-out simulacrum of living if you're not careful. Gaming means devoting time and energy to making and doing things that are good. This is important. There is a sanctuary in craftsmanship. If all the internet activity you involve yourself in day-to-day (staring at your phone, checking your emails, commenting on news articles, reading other people's opinions, losing yourself in the visual and auditory fantasies of youtube, Spotify and tumblr) begins to feel like an obligation, like work, then the role playing hobby is the Sabbath.

More Aborted Yoon-Suin Fiction, Circa 2009

Here is another Yoon-Suin piece which did not make the final cut. I wrote it early on (it is dated 2009), when a lot of the elements of the setting were still up in the air. There is a lot that's wrong with it, but I think it has a kind of interesting energy about it. I don't appear to have got anywhere near finishing it, although you can probably guess the broad drift of what happens next.

1.

The forest was green, and thick, and endless. Sodden with warm rain which dripped and trickled in a constant downpour from the canopy a hundred metres above. The air felt like a hot cloth pressed against skin, and even when it was just after noon the canopy gloomed all underneath it in dim emerald green light. Ground level was flooded with an ocean of insect sound almost deafening.

          The forest was swollen with life. And yet in recent weeks it had taken five of Yàk è's men to their deaths. They had each starved and died like fish thrown on a shoreline. Feeble gasping and staring eyes. After the last had passed the others had caught a giant gèpà, and things were easier. Yàk è pondered the grimness of fortune in this alien place.

          Now there were but seven of them.

          At dusk, as was their ritual, they rested in hammocks strung above the ground. Spirits were somewhat higher now that food was regular. Three of the men, the ones from Lamarakh, even sang, in their strange alveolar language full of 't's and 'd's and 's's. Yàk è's other men, his Yellow City brothers, lit torches around the circle of their camp. All night these fires would bring insects - huge beetles, fat moths like birds, and tiny bloodsucking flies. Their flutterings and clickings would be a constant low-level torture. But the alternative was darkness, and then the things that sometimes came in the night, and which needed no light to see, would easily kill everyone in the camp.

          "Who will take the watches?" asked Yàk è. "I will be first."

          "I will be second." Jòh Pò, the others had learned, had the sharpest ears. He had been with Yàk è on many journeys, all of them triumphant. Never a big man he was wasted now by hunger and heat. He volunteered for everything, clearly attempting to disguise his horror at his own weakness.

          The third volunteer was one of the Lamarakhi, the tallest of the three. The Yellow City men called him U. His real name was an impossibility for them and he seemed to prefer this abbreviation to the indignity of mispronunciation.

          As darkness surrounded their island of light, they slept. All except Yàk è, sitting in his hammock with three javelins across his lap. He thought about the men who had starved, as he often did, and then his mind went back to the Yellow City and he imagined he was there, in the rooftop garden of the fourth library, with a pipe and poppy seeds, watching the sun rise over the ocean.

          He woke from that dream with the man called U shaking his shoulder. Looked around. It was not yet day. The light from the torches was dim and orange. Flickering. Some mindless winged thing was butting itself repeatedly into the flames.

          The man called U put a finger to his lips, then made the waving motion with his fingers. So, one of the things had come. Yàk è clenched his fists and pressed his teeth together. An old and familiar mixture of excitement and fear.

          Together, he and U woke the others. All the men knew not to make a sound. The hunters could feel the very vibrations of the air. Not that it greatly mattered - they would be smelled out. But it might buy them some time.

          They fanned out around their little circle of hammocks. The blades on their javelins glowed in the light from the fires. Since the others had died, javelins at least had become plentiful. Each man carried three.

          The forest was dark, so very dark, beyond the circle of light. Before he had come to this place Yàk è could scarcely have imagined it. The canopy was so thick that the moonlight could not penetrate. To look into the trees at night was to stare into nothing. A black nothing which thronged with invisible life.

          He turned his head this way and that, trying to spot what U had seen. An endless ululating swell of insect calls washed over them.

          It came silently from the vegetation near Hè Lòk. 

          The Yellow City man had the most fleeting of moments to survive. At once the blackness before him revealed movement. A velveteen, slithering body reared. Huge, wet, horribly graceful. Its maw opened beneath the expressionless, blank, faceless face. Its feelers - long, whip like - reached for him. To Yàk è they looked for a second like a pair of arms spread wide in anticipation of a loving embrace. If they touched Hè Lòk he was as good as dead. But if he moved it would sense him nevertheless.

          He was at the mercy of his companions.

          Yàk è stepped towards Hè Lòk's position and threw his first javelin over hand. It thudded into the hunter's exposed side, slicing through thick skin. An instant later three more javelins hit it from the other flank - the Lamarakhi. Sharp metal punched through flesh.

          Instantly the creature's face began to change. Yàk è saw the quiver of movement. He raised his second javelin and threw wildly, even as  Jòh Pò, Fò Yà and the three Lamarakhi came bounding in the hunter's direction, hurling another volley.

          They were too late. The two openings had already appearing in the hunter's face. Even as the javelins cut into its flesh it was spraying twin streams of liquid which coated Hè Lòk in thick ropes. He had flung himself aside but it did not matter. He did not stand up. As the hunter thrashed itself back into the forest he lay almost motionless, only a leg twitching.

          The others gathered round.

          "He is finished," said Fò Yà. The younger man was a complainer and a fatalist, but for once, Yàk è could not argue. The hunter's liquid was impossible to dissolve or break.

        Hè Lòk gazed up at them. He was glued to the forest floor; the liquid had even sprayed across his face, coating his mouth closed. Only his left leg was free.

          The Lamarakhi gathered together and held each other's hands.

          Yàk è bent down. "We cannot help you, brother," he said.

          Hè Lòk merely stared at him. It was impossible to tell whether forgiveness or anger was in those wide brown eyes.

          Yàk è straightened up. "Who will do it?"

          The man called U stepped forward and drew his knife.

          "Don't let the lozenge touch your skin. Do it quickly."

          U nodded, bent down, and with one quick slice it was done.

Yàk è looked into Hè Lòk's eyes and saw that he was dead. He saw nothing of the blank horror that the starved men's eyes had showed, and for that he was grateful. The hunter would return to claim the body the next night - no other animal would touch it. 

          "A quick end, which we might not have," said Fò Yà. "In a way, he is to be envied?"

          "We lost ten javelins and an intelligent man." Yàk è stepped away from the body. He had not known Hè Lòk well but was saddened. He felt, not for the first time, the forest's indifference. Whether they lived or died meant nothing here.

          "How many more days?" said Jòh Pò.

          "Maybe three."

          "Then the return."

          "We will never leave this forest. You realise this?" Fò Yà was studying the corpse with interested eyes.

2.

The next morning Yàk è opened the journal of Laxmi Guptra Dahl, as was his custom, and pored over the Silaish script. Like Lamarakhi it was difficult for him to pronounce the words but he understood their meaning. "The thirty fourth day. As the ground rose we came to monuments in the forest like the menhirs on the River of Crayfish. Except smaller and worn away by the heat of this vile place. Clearly they are of the same or similar makers." Yàk è had never been to the River of Crayfish and knew it only by its name on a map; it was hundreds of leagues away, in high mountains distant in every sense of the word.

          Not for the first time he felt that reading the journal had left him more apprehensive and confused than he had been. Though it was easy enough to be apprehensive and confused that morning. The forest was thick with mist that seemed a tangible thing. Like grey foam strung between the trees.

          "Let's break camp," he said.

          The Lamarakhi had gathered around Hè Lòk's body. The tall one called U was saying something to the others, who Fò Yà had nicknamed The Chin and The Eyes after their most prominent features. They did not have the look of men ready to continue.

          "We should have moved on as soon as the hunter was gone," said Yàk è to Jòh Pò. "This way we start the day with it...fresh in our minds."

          The older man shrugged. "We would have all died in the forest at night."

          "You believe that would have been regrettable?" said Fò Yà, overhearing. His laugh was a derisory cackle.

          "Why are you here, Fò Yà?" said Jòh Pò, true feeling suddenly in his voice for the first time in many days.

          "There is no 'why', there only 'is'."

          "The hunter worm should have taken you instead," Jòh Pò muttered.

           Yàk è watched them both, but knew neither had the energy for more than bickering. In any case he doubted he himself had the energy to say anything to them of value.

          "We go," he said.

3.

The mist grew thicker around them. It was like nothing Yàk è had seen before on earth. As if the very air itself was slowly coalescing into something grey and solid. It lay on the forest like a damp cloak, suppressing all sound. He could hear his own breathing.

          None of them talked. This was common enough and they had often been silent for hours at a time as they travelled. Nevertheless Yàk è could almost feel the men’s' apprehension. They were only six in number now, and it could not be doubted that Fò Yà was right - they would never leave the forest alive. They might reach their destination but the return journey would destroy them.

          He was not even sure any longer why he had come.

         

          At noon, they reached a slope, as Dahl's journal had predicted. It ran upwards for half a mile, then flattened itself out. When they reached the top they saw things dark in the mist, among the tree trunks. Tall, narrow, and made from stone. The menhirs. They looked like termite mounds on the hills of the aviary's garden where it ran down to the God River; monuments of earth and stone which seemed nevertheless alive.

          There were twelve, arranged in three rows of four.

          "Well, there once were people here, then," said Jòh Pò. "Though I wonder what manner of fools might choose to live in such a place?"

          "The same manner of fool who might choose to come here and try to find out?" Fò Yà approached the nearest stone and laid his hand against it.

          The Lamarakhi had gathered together, their arms linked. They reminded Yàk è of women you might see on Temple Row in summer, examining the incense stalls or buying parasols. Their physical comfort with one another intrigued and repelled him.

          "It is basalt," Fò Yà was saying.

          Yàk è went over. "Basalt? There was once a volcano around here, then."

          "Or they brought it." The younger man appeared already to have lost interest. "There is no way of telling."

            Yàk è stood back, wondering what the three rows signified. Perhaps graves of chiefs or kings. Or monuments to forgotten gods or heroes. Or perhaps there had been beauty in them in the eyes of their creators. Their silence and stillness was undoubtedly impressive.

            Fò Yà had wandered beyond them and was gazing up at the high canopy with a bored expression. Yàk è watched him. The young man was a mystery, all right. He was handsome, strong, intelligent, and his entire bearing was that of a rich and educated city boy. And yet here he was. Diffidence could ruin an entire life.

          There were plenty of men like that in the Yellow City of course. Some of them were fixtures in the lounges and atria of the aviary - men who Yàk è had shared smoke with and held pleasant conversation. They were men whose laziness had made them like shells. Fò Yà's lack of ambition was monstrous, however, and that had taken him beyond useless dilettancy to outright delinquency, and thus here. Yàk è was sure of it.            

4.

Reluctant to stay near the standing stones, they pressed on after making only cursory sketches. Yàk è took out Laxmi Guptra Dahl's journal again. They were now near the end of the journey, and the man's writings. Yàk è had read the entries dozens of times, but he went over the final two once more. They were carefully etched in Dahl's pedantic hand; nothing about them hinted at any nervousness or fear. The expedition had spent an uneventful night just beyond the stones, and from there had reached the Holes unmolested. Their doom had crept up on them unawares.

          At least when our doom creeps up on us, we won't be unawares, Yàk è thought to himself, and then suddenly found himself chuckling.

          "You are laughing about our impending death?" said Fò Yà.

          "How did you guess?"

          "What else is there to laugh about?"

          Yàk è chuckled again. The Lamarakhi glanced at turned around and looked at him with uneasy smiles.

          "I would kill for some poppy seeds," said Yàk è.

          "Poppy seeds," said the man they called U, showing a rare willingness to use the Yellow City tongue. "When we return."

          "A thousand of them," said Fò Yà.

         

          They camped in a clearing where a tree fall had created a space in the vegetation. The huge body of the tree lay like some slumbering rock-hewn being on the ground. Knowing that there might be beetle grubs burrowed inside they spent some time smoking them out, and then chewing on the resultant tasteless catch as evening fell.