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Summer, 1331
It was almost a month into the quest before the strains began to show among the party: Karlen finally vocalized what everyone in Logan’s party was thinking as they navigated a steep and narrow hillside trail.
“It's been weeks since we set out from Caldern." The Duregaren trader fumed. "We've crossed the Rapidan, ascended the Southern Ranges, made our way to Wetherill, worked through the Great Forest, fought Hunter Killers in the City of the Dead and the Valley of Bones, yet we're still hundreds of miles from Fort Brecas. Can we even make it before the Other Men seize Caldern?”
“Trust in the plan.” Dr. Moller scribbled in response.
“Fat good the plan would be if the Other Men move faster than predicted.” Liza added. “We could save the dragon queen all for naught.”
“Saving the dragon queen might help even if Caldern falls and the kingdom surrenders.” Logan emphasized.
“The dragon queen could be dead. She could be dead now and we wouldn't even know this quest had failed before we had even reached her.” Sufjan pointed out.
“At least it's been a fun trip.” Glib shrugged.
“I think we need to fly your dragon.” The Sabine continued.
“Too dangerous. There are spies everywhere.” Liza countered.
“We’ll have to take the risk.”
“If only the Back Valley had real roads instead of trudging through the woods.” Karlen deadpanned, triggering Sufjan's fury.
“Enough of this!” Logan declared. “We do what we can with the odds we have.”
“A little luck wouldn't hurt.” Glib added.
The Duregaren shook his head. “We should never have embarked upon this fool's err-”
The argument abruptly interrupted when the group ascended a steep slope and suddenly found themselves standing atop a saddle, the trail rapidly wound down a smooth granite rockface to a large, bubbling river, the sounds of flowing water having evidently been masked by the promontories. Below, a dozen humans clad in camouflaged outfits and armed with bows and spears stood at a small, sandy beach, guarding bundles and two large canoes.
Logan turned to notice that Mera had disappeared at some point during the earlier argument.
“Who guards the kingdom?” The leader of the human group called up to the party on the slope.
Lord de Trobliand, having been silent during the entire ascent, pulled out his portcullis medallion. “The heroes of the land guard the kingdom. The people keep it safe.” The Normad called back.
His counterpart nodded. “Welcome friends, we were expecting you all.”
Lord de Trobliand bowed, before turning to his companions.
“We have reached the Missoula. Things will get easier-we take the river.”
***
Kinte's Guerrillas were well prepared for the meetup, having brought over a week's worth of fresh supplies, including fresh meats, bags of ale, quivers of arrows and javelins, rope, bandages, flint and even blankets and fresh clothes. By far the most impressive provision however, was in transportation.
After a restful night at a hidden campsite nearby protected by their hosts, Captain Kinte offered one of the impressively large and well carved vessels to the travelers.
“Our gift to you.” The guerrilla leader turned down an additional bag of coins Lord de Trobliand brought out.
“Only pirogues had been requested from the king.”
“What we provided by order of the king was our duty. This gift we provide for our own hope. Now pull off your miracles, Dragonrider.”
Logan turned pale.
The Normad lord politely bowed in the Forester’s stead. “That is our intention. We thank you for your generosity.”
***
The great cedar dugout canoe, forty feet in length, comfortably seated the entire humanoid group with their supplies. Built by expert craftsmen to trade between the lonely outposts between the Great Forest, the vessel was surprisingly light, shallow and maneuverable along the waters, and within minutes of bidding Kinte's Guerillas farewell the travelers had already paddled out of sight. A few miles further Mera rejoined Logan’s party, briefly following the canoe along the shore before giving up and leaping into the water and swimming along them, much to Logan’s surprise.
Now the speed of travel increased greatly. Behind the front lines, behind enemy positions, with contacts established and alliances built, Logan’s Party rapidly moved North down the Missoula River, hopping from encampment to encampment, prepared, supplied and guarded by local guerrilla forces. Even without flying, the distance covered by the group shot up from around 20 miles to more than 60 miles in a day.
The initial encounter with Auxian guerillas quickly became a trend: during the daylight hours when Logan’s party continued on their trek, Mera kept close, swimming alongside the great canoe the humanoids rowed and sometimes physically pushing the boat along in rough currents; on one or two occasions, the dragon even helped drag out the canoe and carry it over portages. Yet at night, when the longboat was pulled to shore and contact was made with the local resistance forces, Mera made himself scarce, stealing away with supplies specifically cached for him at hidden locations by Lord de Trobliand and communicating with Logan’s Party by Liza and Raptor, only to rejoin Logan's company when the coast seemed clear.
“You can leave us and rendezvous at our next stops.” Logan finally quietly asked one day as the wet wyrm awkwardly and grumpily paddled beside them like a dog. “Don't you hate swimming?”
Mera snorted. “I do. But if I cannot fly this is the next fastest way. Plus I need you guys with me: present, intact and in shape for the rescue mission. I can keep myself healthy, I can assemble my squadron, but those are easier than finding a bunch of humans and not-humans in this wilderness in wartime.”
“Sorry.”
The dragon sighed. “I will accept this. We are at war, not a forest ramble.”
Despite Mera’s precautions however, it seemed like everyone had heard about the coalition party of humans, Sabines and Duregaren who commanded a dragon. Every new guerrilla group inquired about the great wyrm they were hiding, everyone hopeful that the visit would herald a turning point. That was dangerous exposure, Logan thought, and with the Hunter Killers pursuing somewhere close behind, the group continued with breakneck pace. Even traveling light and fast, every rest was timed, every leg of the river warily covered by Raptor overhead and the dragon's senses.
The Dragon Queen awaited rescue. And with her, possibly the course of the war.
No one was taking any chances.
Creedence Clearwater Revival - Proud Mary
From
Chickenzaur!
It was almost a month into the quest before the strains began to show among the party: Karlen finally vocalized what everyone in Logan’s party was thinking as they navigated a steep and narrow hillside trail.
“It's been weeks since we set out from Caldern." The Duregaren trader fumed. "We've crossed the Rapidan, ascended the Southern Ranges, made our way to Wetherill, worked through the Great Forest, fought Hunter Killers in the City of the Dead and the Valley of Bones, yet we're still hundreds of miles from Fort Brecas. Can we even make it before the Other Men seize Caldern?”
“Trust in the plan.” Dr. Moller scribbled in response.
“Fat good the plan would be if the Other Men move faster than predicted.” Liza added. “We could save the dragon queen all for naught.”
“Saving the dragon queen might help even if Caldern falls and the kingdom surrenders.” Logan emphasized.
“The dragon queen could be dead. She could be dead now and we wouldn't even know this quest had failed before we had even reached her.” Sufjan pointed out.
“At least it's been a fun trip.” Glib shrugged.
“I think we need to fly your dragon.” The Sabine continued.
“Too dangerous. There are spies everywhere.” Liza countered.
“We’ll have to take the risk.”
“If only the Back Valley had real roads instead of trudging through the woods.” Karlen deadpanned, triggering Sufjan's fury.
“Enough of this!” Logan declared. “We do what we can with the odds we have.”
“A little luck wouldn't hurt.” Glib added.
The Duregaren shook his head. “We should never have embarked upon this fool's err-”
The argument abruptly interrupted when the group ascended a steep slope and suddenly found themselves standing atop a saddle, the trail rapidly wound down a smooth granite rockface to a large, bubbling river, the sounds of flowing water having evidently been masked by the promontories. Below, a dozen humans clad in camouflaged outfits and armed with bows and spears stood at a small, sandy beach, guarding bundles and two large canoes.
Logan turned to notice that Mera had disappeared at some point during the earlier argument.
“Who guards the kingdom?” The leader of the human group called up to the party on the slope.
Lord de Trobliand, having been silent during the entire ascent, pulled out his portcullis medallion. “The heroes of the land guard the kingdom. The people keep it safe.” The Normad called back.
His counterpart nodded. “Welcome friends, we were expecting you all.”
Lord de Trobliand bowed, before turning to his companions.
“We have reached the Missoula. Things will get easier-we take the river.”
***
Kinte's Guerrillas were well prepared for the meetup, having brought over a week's worth of fresh supplies, including fresh meats, bags of ale, quivers of arrows and javelins, rope, bandages, flint and even blankets and fresh clothes. By far the most impressive provision however, was in transportation.
After a restful night at a hidden campsite nearby protected by their hosts, Captain Kinte offered one of the impressively large and well carved vessels to the travelers.
“Our gift to you.” The guerrilla leader turned down an additional bag of coins Lord de Trobliand brought out.
“Only pirogues had been requested from the king.”
“What we provided by order of the king was our duty. This gift we provide for our own hope. Now pull off your miracles, Dragonrider.”
Logan turned pale.
The Normad lord politely bowed in the Forester’s stead. “That is our intention. We thank you for your generosity.”
***
The great cedar dugout canoe, forty feet in length, comfortably seated the entire humanoid group with their supplies. Built by expert craftsmen to trade between the lonely outposts between the Great Forest, the vessel was surprisingly light, shallow and maneuverable along the waters, and within minutes of bidding Kinte's Guerillas farewell the travelers had already paddled out of sight. A few miles further Mera rejoined Logan’s party, briefly following the canoe along the shore before giving up and leaping into the water and swimming along them, much to Logan’s surprise.
Now the speed of travel increased greatly. Behind the front lines, behind enemy positions, with contacts established and alliances built, Logan’s Party rapidly moved North down the Missoula River, hopping from encampment to encampment, prepared, supplied and guarded by local guerrilla forces. Even without flying, the distance covered by the group shot up from around 20 miles to more than 60 miles in a day.
The initial encounter with Auxian guerillas quickly became a trend: during the daylight hours when Logan’s party continued on their trek, Mera kept close, swimming alongside the great canoe the humanoids rowed and sometimes physically pushing the boat along in rough currents; on one or two occasions, the dragon even helped drag out the canoe and carry it over portages. Yet at night, when the longboat was pulled to shore and contact was made with the local resistance forces, Mera made himself scarce, stealing away with supplies specifically cached for him at hidden locations by Lord de Trobliand and communicating with Logan’s Party by Liza and Raptor, only to rejoin Logan's company when the coast seemed clear.
“You can leave us and rendezvous at our next stops.” Logan finally quietly asked one day as the wet wyrm awkwardly and grumpily paddled beside them like a dog. “Don't you hate swimming?”
Mera snorted. “I do. But if I cannot fly this is the next fastest way. Plus I need you guys with me: present, intact and in shape for the rescue mission. I can keep myself healthy, I can assemble my squadron, but those are easier than finding a bunch of humans and not-humans in this wilderness in wartime.”
“Sorry.”
The dragon sighed. “I will accept this. We are at war, not a forest ramble.”
Despite Mera’s precautions however, it seemed like everyone had heard about the coalition party of humans, Sabines and Duregaren who commanded a dragon. Every new guerrilla group inquired about the great wyrm they were hiding, everyone hopeful that the visit would herald a turning point. That was dangerous exposure, Logan thought, and with the Hunter Killers pursuing somewhere close behind, the group continued with breakneck pace. Even traveling light and fast, every rest was timed, every leg of the river warily covered by Raptor overhead and the dragon's senses.
The Dragon Queen awaited rescue. And with her, possibly the course of the war.
No one was taking any chances.
Creedence Clearwater Revival - Proud Mary
From
Chickenzaur!
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 3292 x 2288px
File Size 5.78 MB
Yes, cedar dugout canoes are massive, and yes loosely they may weigh around half a ton, but I've not been able to find much actual info about their weight. I know the dugout canoes of the Pacific Northwest are thinner and lighter than expected based upon the intricacy of their design, which involves steaming, stretching and pressing.
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