Ahead of the Storm - Day 24

Sasserine, Four Months Ago

Larissa paused her reading for a moment. All these memories of those first days on the Isle of Dread - nearly fifteen years ago now, but feeling as though yesterday. In her heart, she was set on it now - whether Verik liked it or not, she wanted Lavinia and Anzak to have the Blue Nixie and all their sea charts for how to navigate the long journey back to the Isle of Dread. It was an adventure she wanted Lavinia to experience more than anything now - to test herself and discover the inner strength her mother knew she had.

Eagerly, Larissa returned to her reading...

THE ECOLOGY OF THE ISLE OF DREAD
The Journal of Larissa Vanderboren

Ecology of the Phanaton
24th of Wealsun, 578 CY

While wandering the central jungle, stubbornly classifying the island's endless varieties of flora, I caught sight of a strange, diminutive primate. Carrying a spear, it had a satchel slung across its shoulders and appeared to be rummaging for mushrooms on the spongy ground. It hadn't noticed me so I approached for a closer look.

Little more than 2 feet tall, the creature looked like a raccoon, with dark fur around its eyes and ringed stripes on its tail. It also had primate-distinguishing features, such as opposable thumbs and a prehensile tail, but displayed a thin membrane of skin stretched between its front and back legs (later I would observe its use for gliding between trees).

Its eyes suddenly met mine, and for a brief moment, I thought the creature looked inquisitive, but then it started shrieking in a shrill, warbling cry. Almost instantly, more of the creatures came rushing through the bushes and dropping from the trees - too many to count. Before I could act, a primitive net made from vines ensnared me, and the creatures began pummeling me with their clubs and the butt-ends of their spears until I lost consciousness.

I awoke with my hands tied behind my back, lying on a wooden platform supported by the boughs of an ancient deklo tree. I could sense that I was high up in the jungle canopy, and I noticed my provisions and research notes dumped out next to me. As I looked around, I could see more platforms in the surrounding trees, connected by treacherous-looking bridges made of knotted vines and strewn with simple wooden huts. These creatures had built an entire village among the trees. Scores of the small creatures watched from nearby platforms, through tiny hut windows, and from the foliage of branches above, spying on me curiously as I came to my senses.

As I composed myself, one of the tiny creatures, their leader by the look of his unique, brightly feathered adornments, approached me and untied my hands. He shocked me by speaking a crude sort of Sylvan - distinguishable phrases interspersed with soft hoots and odd clicks of the tongue. He apologized for the inconvenience and explained that I had surprised a group of his people while they gathered medicinal herbs from the forest floor below. He had looked through my journal, discovered my druidic beliefs, and was very apologetic for the misunderstanding. He invited me to a village feast and the following grooming session that evening as a token of their good will.

I stayed with the creatures - who I came to know as phanatons - for three days thereafter, learning of their society and culture. When I left, the one that I had spied on the jungle floor, named Hatoi, offered to join me as a guide - a sort of peace offering from these creatures. At first, Hatoi was shy, but with time I began to connect with him by letting him look at my journal. He is fond of my sketches, particularly of the island's plant life, and he will no doubt prove invaluable in classifying the jungle flora.

The Effects of Loco Weed
7th of Richfest, 578 CY

For the past severel days, I've been observing a herd of ankylosaurs that graze near an inland lake in the northwestern reaches of the isle. Within this group, one male in particular has been exhibiting very curious behavior, of hostile and unsocial bearing. I've come to blame this comportment on his consumption of a toxic weed that grows in patches along the lake's eastern banks.

Several minutes after eating the weed, the ankylosaur begins taking short, shallow breaths, and seems a bit unsteady on his feet. Once the drug fully takes hold, he exhibits an increased blood flow - evidenced by his overall pinkish hue - and begins to drool. Other effects of the plant are rapid eye movement, loss of balance, occasional vomiting, and highly aggressive behavior.

The amount of weed consumed has a proportional effect on the ankylosaur's belligerence. On a normal day, he eats only a small quantity - enough to become easily agitated. The rest of the herd has learned to avoid him during these episodes, as he swings his tail at anything that approaches. Even when docile and not under the influence of the plant, the herd and other local herbivores give him plenty of space, not wishing to incur his wrath. A bruised shin is apparently enough to make even the largest diplodocus wary of him.

Larger meals of the plant have a more powerful effect on the giant reptile, causing him to become extremely aggressive and attack anything he sees. His depth perception seems altered during these episodes, as yesterday I observed him charging into the jungle only to run headlong into a tree trunk. He became so enraged that he smashed down nearly thirty trees before disappearing into the jungle.

After about two hours, the drug begins to wear off. The specimen exhibits loss of hunger, lethargy, and impotent irritability; usually collapsing wherever he finds himself after the plant's effects have run their course. Once he is fast asleep, the herd resumes its daily grazing.

The ankylosaur shows signs of physical addiction to the plant, refusing to let any members of his herd near a patch. When he can't find sources of the weed, he goes through stages of extreme depression, although social rejection might account for this behavior, as he is an outcast among the group.

When I asked the Panitube natives about the weed, they smiled and laughed to themselves as if privy to some private joke, which I take to mean that they are indeed familiar with it. I overheard one of them call it "cualoco zacatl," which roughly translates from Olman to "angry grass." The few natives who speak the trade tongue, however, have made a broken translation, calling it "loco weed."

Territorial Behavior of Terror Birds
10th of Reaping, 578 CY

Concerning the flock of terror birds that I have been studying near the isle's eastern peninsula, today I witnessed a pack of males force a dimetrodon away from its kill. The creature had wandered into the high grasses of the flock's territory and brought down a giant scorpion, an easy catch with little signs of struggle. This was soon to change, though, for the terror bird scavengers can be very persistent when it comes to robbing meals.

The tall birds slowly encircled the predator, assessing the situation. At first, the dimetrodon seemed indifferent to their presence, continuing to eat while only occasionally snapping at birds that got too close. As the flightless avians gained confidence, they began flaunting - rising up to their full height and fluffing their head plumes. They strutted back and forth, low resonating grunts emanating from deep within their chests. When their displays failed to intimidate the feeding predator, some of them began turning their hindquarters toward it and kicking dirt into its face. This immediately garnered the reptile's full attention.

Unwilling to give up its kill, the dimetrodon flushed the sail on its back, bared its teeth, and began bellowing at its attackers. This show of force came too late, though, as the birds had worked themselves into a frenzy. The flanking terror birds nipped at its tail, hitting and running, much to their target's frustration. While doing little harm, it made the dimetrodon spin around to snap at them. Taking advantage of this momentary distraction, the other birds rushed in for quick strikes, butting and quickly biting with their powerful beaks. At one point, the dimetrodon actually staggered to keep its balance. Finally having had enough, the giant lizard abandoned its meal and fled at a waddling gait. The birds gave pursuit, screeching as they drove the creature from their territory. Once the threat of the predator was gone, they dragged the half-eaten scorpion back to the waiting chicks and females of their flock.

In other parts of the Flanaess, these flightless birds are top predators of their habitats, but her they are clearly bottom-feeding scavengers. If it were not for their strength of numbers, they would certainly be ill-equipped at defending their nests and might have long ago disappeared from the island. They have adapted quite well to their situation and exhibit a remarkable ability to drive off most predators that threaten their nesting grounds.

To be continued...