Isle of Dread (Inactive)

Game Master Wilmannator

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Gabor looks blankly at the three who have spoken. Then his face splits into a wide grin. When Aeslin speaks, he is more deferential and bows his head slightly, not quite meeting her gaze. "Gado and lady, you no want meet Zombie Master. He mean and nasty. Ancestors not happy being raised from dead. Women in charge. Better meet Chief Itzel instead. Me take you. Clans part of tribe. Four clans. Not fight, but compete. Ape clan, Vole clan, Condor clan and Barracuda clan."

The native motions broadly with his arms to the tribesmen behind him and they rush off to the village to make ready. He then shoulders his spear and indicates that the companions should follow him. "Oily one - Baz, is it? - me warn you once: women here no appreciate to be disrespected. They run village.

"For drinks, stout-one, we drink god-nectar. Fermented berries. Very sweet. Very strong. Very good." Gado's grin becomes even wider as he trudges up the sandy beach, not even checking to see if the crew are following him. The fine, powdery sand squeak-squeaks in time to the marching of his bare feet as he works his way up to the tree line.

At the tree line, a cleared trail winds its way into a forested area. It is not long through the dense edge of the jungle before huts become visible. They are built simply from soft wood and packed mud with thatched palm leaf roofs. The trees thin out and the huts become more densely located shortly before the whole village opens up into a large, cleared mound - upon which sits a ten foot high pyramid hewn of massive stones and seemingly untouched by age. Many villagers have already gathered around it in four distinct groups, each with their backs to a circular arrangement of huts bearing different decorations related to one of the four village clans. The tattoos on each group villagers differs also, but do not adhere as closely to the imagery of the animal totems belonging to the clans.

"Meeting place," Gabor says simply.

The group is led to the top steps of the pyramid where they have a commanding view of the rest of the village. Each of the four circles of houses seems to face in on a central graveyard. Inside each graveyard is a large statue depicting the clan's totem animal. The village cannot possibly hold more than five hundred villagers, and yet it boasts four separate graveyards. Either they are very old villagers, or the rate of birth and death is very high... or possibly something else entirely.

In between each of the circular clan sites, gardens containing vegetables and fruit trees can be seen, as well as menageries of familiar yet foreign animals. While they are of breeds heretofore unknown to any present, the animals are unmistakably pigs, chickens and goats.

"Me get Chief. You want me say anything for you?"

I'll give you a chance to confer with each other about your desired approach and give Gabor something to say to the Chief on your behalf. Also, let me know if you don't want to accompany Gabor to the village (and what you do instead).


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Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15
Aeslin wrote:
"The women are in charge? Is the Zombie-Master your leader? Could you take us to her?"

If Bazsil had any fears about the Zombie Master, they had been completely quelled with one glance at Aeslin. Whereas some men might fear a woman who, called the Zombie-Master, could create stiffs quite quickly.

But Bazsil recognizes Aeslin's ability to kill any stiffness in a man with one glance.

You've been Grim'd.


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15
Isle of Dread wrote:
"Oily one - Baz, is it? - me warn you once: women here no appreciate to be disrespected. They run village."

Bazsil looks hurt and shocked that he would do anything other than respect women. It was only weaker men who, out of jealousy, think that because a man sleeps with many women that they are being disrespected.

Bazsil notes the graveyards.

"You have many dead here. Perhaps your gene pool need some superior stock injected into it so you do not die so often or easily..." Bazsil leaves off overtly saying that his gene stock is of perfect human quality, untainted by the weakness that elven or orc lines might bring.

Bazsil smugly flicks his oiled hair.


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

Elon nods quickly as Bazsil speaks, not picking up on his unsaid words. "I volunteer as tribute!" he says with a grin. "What's cuter than a few half-dwarves running around, plus we can surely find ways to put my children to work making this god-nectar..."

He quickly follows Gabor and searches for any signs of this elusive god-nectar.

Upon seeing the graveyards, Elon puts it together. "Oh, so you have a necromancer here?" he says with a frown. "We can probably rid you of that pesky problem, too..." he trails off.


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Labyrinth HP 47/47; AC 15/14/11; Saves 4/5/7; Init +3; Perc +10; Sense Motive +2

A bedraggled looking crewman climbs up behind you on the steps of the pyramid. Reaching the top a little out of breath, he stands a moment breathing heavily before he speaks.

”Hi, uh, look, you may not remember me - I’ve not been much help so far I’m afraid. I’m one of the, uh, thugs you convinced to join you back in Magnimar. I just want to say first, I appreciate the offer, this is, uh, more interesting that’s for sure.” he smiles.

You might remember him from his constant retching on the trip. Yeah, I’m not 6’8” and not a burly fighter, but a little artistic license never hurt - right? He seemed a decent sort at the beginning, but once the ship was underway, the poor man spent the cruise sickened and nauseated, barely able to do his minimum duties.

”Yeah, sorry about back on the ship. But look, I’m really a good guy - Femi’s the name, Euphemia Ferka, and I may be able to smooth things over for you. I’m pretty good at getting a point across. You tell me what you want, and I’ll speak to the natives - get what you are looking for. No problem. I’m also pretty good in a scrape if I do say so myself. My past actions were, ah, unfortunate.”

”Just let me join you huh? For a little while? On land?” he seems rather desperate at that last plea.

Euphemia 'Femi' Ferka is bald and carefully shaved on a regular basis so as to show off his very fine tattoo. The tattoo is of a stylized pseudodragon whose tail is coiled around his neck, ‘clinging’ to the back of his head, and just peering out over the top (barely visible from the front but not really onto the forehead - it would be covered by hair if he didn’t shave) as the tiny dragon looks out onto the world. The tattoo is lightly colored in greens and blues and is very beautiful, if you’re into that sort of thing.

From there, the gaunt man is dressed in several layers of homespun cotton, also brightly dyed, and a light silk scarf - a gift from one of his lady friends back home as a remembrance. He has heavy well worn boots. He carries a large sling bag over his shoulder and chest with a variety of clanking objects within. A light crossbow hangs at his waist along with a dagger that sees more use in dinner than in combat.

Though he wears long sleeves most of the time, he often rolls them up and henna tattoos (temporary tattoos lasting a few weeks at a time) are visible on his forearms. In periods of quiet contemplation he often 'doodles' on his arms to allow his creativity to flourish. Unfortunately he is not, as yet, very good at it and so the tattoos are rough and messy.


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

"Ol' Sea Legs can speak?!" exclaims Elon as the man introduces himself finally, his seasickness seemingly abated now that they have reached dry land. "Wait... I thought yer name was William Billiam or something? I'm sure I would have remember Euthanasia..." Elon questions as he ponders the event back at town.


Labyrinth HP 47/47; AC 15/14/11; Saves 4/5/7; Init +3; Perc +10; Sense Motive +2
Elon Steelkeg wrote:
"Ol' Sea Legs can speak?!" exclaims Elon as the man introduces himself finally, his seasickness seemingly abated now that they have reached dry land.

"Yeah, well, sorry about that. It's hard to talk with your mouth full all the time." Femi frowns, remembering the taste.

Elon Steelkeg wrote:
"Wait... I thought yer name was William Billiam or something? I'm sure I would have remember Euthanasia..." Elon questions as he ponders the event back at town.

"That's true, I was traveling under an assumed name. A little trouble with the law - you understand. Just a simple misunderstanding, but the magistrate took it seriously enough. I just needed to lay low for a while."

He caresses one of his scarves, "She was willing you see, but her, ah, husband was another matter. He's the magistrate's brother as it turned out." he laughs at his bad luck. Just another hazard of living on the move - you don't always know who you're dealing with.

"So what do you say, c'mon - i'm a good guy, I'll smooth things over for you, no problem."


Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

"Could you all stop pissing about?" says Ciaran.

"Gabor, perhaps you could tell the chief that we'd be honoured to meet her and hope to build some mutually beneficial arrangement. Or some shit like that."

He shrugs and waves a hand at Femi to take over.


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot
Bazsil Grimalkin wrote:
"You have many dead here. Perhaps your gene pool need some superior stock injected into it so you do not die so often or easily..."

"No more than other tribes. We honor ancestors. Graves have been here since time when gods walked among us. Much time: many dead. Time kills all." Gabor says all of this as a priest might deliver a parable.

Elon Steelkeg wrote:
"Oh, so you have a necromancer here?" he says with a frown. "We can probably rid you of that pesky problem, too..." he trails off.

Gabor returns Elon's frown with one of his own. "Me is not sure if you serious. Please, do not say such things. Cihuateteo may hear you."

The tall, tanned warrior looks surprised as Femi climbs the steps, but nods along as he interacts with the crew - despite not understanding a word of Taldane. Luckily, Femi's sick bed was within easy earshot of Aaron Donal's lectures on Dread Tongue, and he has become at least moderately proficient (something you may have missed in the 1,000+ posts, the natives don't speak common but a mix of Azlanti vocabulary with Polyglot syntax - which was taught to the crew as they sailed).

Ciarán Cú Mhór-ríoghain wrote:
"Gabor, perhaps you could tell the chief that we'd be honoured to meet her and hope to build some mutually beneficial arrangement. Or some shit like that."

"Me happy tell her this. Anything more?" Gabor looks like he is ready to leave, but will still take additional requests for messages to pass along to Chief Itzel.


Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

Gado appears both relieved and bummed when it doesn't seem he will be meeting the only magic user in this tribe. Necromancy, admittedly, was a weak area in his studies. He spent far to much time studying the arts of conjuration, and the connections to the planes to meddle with the disgusting energies of false life.

But you aren't doing your job if you aren't taking notes on all of the magics of these isles... Well, maybe I will see if there are other magic users in other places. Might be better to get an idea of what I am getting into before talking to a zombie master.

Gado shudders involuntarily, lost in his own thoughts. He looks around, hoping that his body shake didn't happen at an inopportune time in the conversation.

Gado sits down as he waits for Gabor to go get the village chief, pulling out his journal and opening it to the first page. He begins taking notes, writing down his thoughts, names he has heard, and sketching the different totems and tattoos he has seen for reference. He mumbles to himself as he writes, "Did he say the zombie man's name? Cihuateteo... Better write that down, just in case. Wait... did he say if the zombie man was even a man? Better not make any assumptions. Cihuateteo... Why does that name sound familiar? Its certainly creepy enough that I should remember. Something about that name..."

Gado chews on the end of his pen, lost in thought. In his absent-mindedness, he winds up drawing a few odd swirls on the side of his lips and cheek.


Labyrinth HP 47/47; AC 15/14/11; Saves 4/5/7; Init +3; Perc +10; Sense Motive +2
Ciarán Cú Mhór-ríoghain wrote:

"Could you all stop pissing about?" says Ciaran.

"Gabor, perhaps you could tell the chief that we'd be honoured to meet her and hope to build some mutually beneficial arrangement. Or some s#*+ like that."

He shrugs and waves a hand at Femi to take over.

"Right. Got it."

He turns to the native, and speaks slowly in his tongue - a language still unpracticed to Femi. Still, he treats the man with respect and is forthright.

"We're a little tired from our journey so I apologize for our ramblings. We'd be honored to meet your leader, and hope to build a mutually beneficial relationship between our peoples. I bet we have a lot we can offer to each other."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26


Male Human N Shipwright 4 | HP: 24/27 Drown 21/26| AC: 16[19], 12[13] Tch, 15[18] Fl) | CMB: +4, CMD: 16 | F: +6, R: +3, W: +9 | Init: +1 | Perc: +8, SM: +4 | Speed 30ft | Spells: 1st 4/5, 2nd 2/4, Storm Burst 7/7, Enlarge 7/7, Channel 2/2, Hero Point 2/3 | Active conditions: SoFaith, Barkskin, W oAwe, TofSea

Seeing that their absurd ruse went over like a beached whale, Mtumbwi shrinks back to normal size. A sheepish look comes over him, "Sorry about that. Wouldn't work where I come from and didn't think it'd work here. But you know we have been a sea quite a long time, and wouldn't mind finding a woman or two. We can talk later."

He follows the procession into the village, and up the shallow steps to the pyramid at top. Mtumbwi points to where the animals are kept.

"See you have cocks. Ever use them to fight?"


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

Baszil keeps quiet, wondering only where the womens are. He lets the talkers talk.


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

With everyone seemingly agreed that a bargain of mutual benefit can be reached, Gabor smiles and rushes off to fetch Chief Itzel. It is an agonizing thirty minutes or so before he returns. During that time, tribesfolk gather. Most are similar in appearance and coloration to Gabor, but none are so strong as he. The men take standing positions behind the women of the tribe, who sit on the comfortable mound. As in the rest of known Golarion, men do seem to be the more physically dominant gender, but for whatever reason this has not decided their status in society. Both genders seem to be clothed in grass skirts with some women using cloth to cover their chests, others leaving them bare. None of the women are tattooed, but many have piercings.

I really don't want to go too deep into masculinity, femininity, biological history, feminism or any other shit like that... but I'm happy to roleplay out a brief discussion and in-character explanation for the matriarchal society here so long as you are assured that these are not my opinions, just the 'twist' on a theme provided by an author of a roleplaying adventure from the early 80s. He's David Cook, but still: take it with a grain of salt, alright?

At last, Gabor returns. He is following a tall woman, resplendent and clothed in feathers woven into golden lattices. Her figure is taut and clearly visible through her outer garments. She is easily the darkest member of the tribe, but most Garundi would still consider her somewhat fair in color. Behind the pair, a man with a simple loincloth, fur robe and a large feathered head-dress stoops low and follows at a distance. His face has a bleached-bone tattoo painted on it and his tattoos are both darker and more numerous than Gabor's. He must be Cihuateteo, the Zombie Master.

"Me Chief Itzel," the woman says, striding up the pyramid to take her place on the very top step. Her voice is at once gentle and commanding, "You come long way to trade, yes? What you have for Dawa people, and what you want in return?" Her direct manner of speech mirrors that of Gabor, but she also looks upon the new arrivals more suspiciously than the warrior did.

At the base of the Pyramid, Cihuateteo pays attention half to the bargain being struck above him and half to the assembled crowed. Man and woman alike shrink from his gaze.


Labyrinth HP 47/47; AC 15/14/11; Saves 4/5/7; Init +3; Perc +10; Sense Motive +2

Femi admires her beauty and quiet charm a long moment before a thought occurs to him. He casts about his equipment searching for something. Unable to find whatever it is, he takes off one of his beautifully wrought scarves, casts a quick spell* to clean the garment, and steps up toward the woman with bowed head.

”My lady, please accept this gift on our behalf. It’s a finely woven scarf from the city of Magnimar in the Varisian region. It catches your eyes rather nicely I think.” he presents the woman the scarf.

”We are on our way to the mainland but thought we might stop here and resupply, if you would be so gracious. We have had a rather harrowing trip across the sea and could use a few things to conduct repairs, food and water - just the basics. I’m sure that can all be arranged, with your kind permission of course.”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16

Sigh...

"And several of our warriors would like to make the acquaintance of your fine ladies. While we're here."

* Spellcraft DC 15:


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

@Femi: Just a quick note on diplomacy rolls, just don't make them. I prefer roleplay. When it's a gather info check, you need to improve a hostile attitude or something is kinda borderline, I'll roll (or request a roll). For now, it's enough to know that your diplomacy is +12 and I'll take that into account when adjudicating responses to your roleplaying. If you object and would prefer to go with the rolls, please take it to discussion and we can hash it out.


Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

"Tell her we can help with the cannibals," Ciaran rumbles, poking Femi in the back.

He eyes Cihuateteo with the practiced blank face of a guardsman.

"And... whatever else they may need."


Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

Gado does his best to seem curious in just the magic, but between the creepy feeling he gets looking at Cihuateteo, and the faint hope that some feminine companionship might be possible, he finds himself... distracted.

And so he keeps quiet, waiting for the initial greetings to play out, for now. This new envoy seems, capable.

Maybe Wrigley is performing for the captain. I could have sworn I saw him get on the boat...


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

Bazsil lets the talkers talk while he eyes each of the women in turn, figuring out which ones he would most like to bed. He doesn't overtly flirt, instead letting his dark curls and muscles flirt for him.

"Dibs on the Chihuahua one," Bazsil leans over to whisper in Gado's ears, in case the little man had designs on her.


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

Elon jabs Sea Legs in the side. "Psst... Make sure to get me some of that god-nectar. Also, see if I can open a nectary here or at least a brewery with plenty of ovens for baking." he whispers to the man. "Tell them I have beer for them! But only a little bit!"

This is done in Taldane/Common.

Perception @ Bazsil: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

Elon listens in as Bazsil cracks wise, giggling to himself. "You want that weird looking guy down there?" he says, pointing at Cihuateteo in the crowd. "That guy is Chihuahua." he remarks quietly.


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

'Thank you for cloth," Chief Itzel seems to like it, but she hands it off to a servant who quickly ascends the steps to take it from her, "Please, have supplies. God-nectar. Recipe of anscestors long gone." She claps her hands sharply and several trays of refreshments appear, carried by male servants. The god-nectar is broadly similar to wine, but sweeter and probably stronger also. The ones served here appear to be derived from a fruit similar to mangoes.

"You help with cannibals?" Itzel raises a sceptical eyebrow, "How you know of cannibals? What you do to help?" It is clear the group has her interest, but they will have a hard time convincing Itzel that the eight of them can provide something that a tribe with what must be at least fifty or so warriors have not been able to accomplish.

Cihuateteo continues to glower at the proceedings from the lower steps. He mostly ignores Bazsil's amorous glances.


Labyrinth HP 47/47; AC 15/14/11; Saves 4/5/7; Init +3; Perc +10; Sense Motive +2

Got it GM Damo, thanks. I like the way you do business.

Chief Itzel wrote:
'Thank you for cloth," Chief Itzel seems to like it, but she hands it off to a servant who quickly ascends the steps to take it from her, "Please, have supplies. God-nectar. Recipe of ancestors long gone." She claps her hands sharply and several trays of refreshments appear, carried by male servants. The god-nectar is broadly similar to wine, but sweeter and probably stronger also. The ones served here appear to be derived from a fruit similar to mangoes.

Femi sips the mixture and finds it to be very pleasant - fruity and alcoholic, a good mix. He toasts the Chief, and the party, but does not over-indulge wanting to stay fresh to do his job.

Chief Itzel wrote:

"You help with cannibals?" Itzel raises a skeptical eyebrow, "How you know of cannibals? What you do to help?" It is clear the group has her interest, but they will have a hard time convincing Itzel that the eight of them can provide something that a tribe with what must be at least fifty or so warriors have not been able to accomplish.

Cihuateteo continues to glower at the proceedings from the lower steps. He mostly ignores Bazsil's amorous glances.

"Well, uh, Femi is a little at sea, not really knowing what they could do if pressed. "There are several of us as you can see, and we're really very talented. Also, as I mentioned, we have a ship, just yonder in the harbor. I'm not sure we could completely solve your problem, but I'm sure we can help!"

He glosses over knowing about the cannibals, not really sure himself how they know about them. Some of these folks must have been here before.

"Could you, please, tell us more about your trouble?"


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

Bazsil stands listening to the new negotiator negotiate, trying to be attentive. He tries really hard to keep his focus on Femi's words, but his mind and his eyes eventually go back to sizing up the different women around.

Flexing is arm, he scratches the back of his neck and twists, showing his well muscled body.


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

Elon jabs Bazsil in the side as he ignores the dwarf advising him againts lusting after the man who might be a necromancer. "Hey! Stop being a nitwit!" he say angrily at the coiffed man.

"I will gladly work to make the god-nectar better." Elon states as he straightens up to address Chief Itzel. "Do you want us to handle the cannonballs?" Elon asks as he hears her speak.

"It should be easy if we get in close, then they can't fire on us." he reasons.


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

Bazsil leans in to whisper in Femi's ear.

"Tell them that we will scatter the cannibals like goblins before giants. If they are anything like the man stock we see in this village, it shouldn't be too difficult," Bazsil instructs. "Me and the oaf, Ciaran, are surely too much for them to handle. Maybe even the dwarf and smart little man could take one or two as well."

Bazsil gives a confident wink to one of the nearby lasses.


Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

"I can hear you, you know."


Male Human N Shipwright 4 | HP: 24/27 Drown 21/26| AC: 16[19], 12[13] Tch, 15[18] Fl) | CMB: +4, CMD: 16 | F: +6, R: +3, W: +9 | Init: +1 | Perc: +8, SM: +4 | Speed 30ft | Spells: 1st 4/5, 2nd 2/4, Storm Burst 7/7, Enlarge 7/7, Channel 2/2, Hero Point 2/3 | Active conditions: SoFaith, Barkskin, W oAwe, TofSea

Mtumbwi grabs a bowl of god-nectar with each hand. He mumbles a "Thanks." into the floor while joining his friends to listen to the female chief.

He tips one bowl into his mouth, rivulets of god-nectar running down his beard and dripping onto his shirt in ever widening stains. Those around him can hear him gulping loudly, the sound of his mouth smacking and sucking the god-nectar.

Once he has finished one bowl, he grabs another while tipping the previous bowl into his mouth the same way.

The process is repeated for the third bowl which clatters to the ground, resting next to the two other empty bowls.

His shirt and beard covered in god-nectar, he wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve before belching quite loudly, projecting the belch in a low tone, rising to a high pitch as he forces the air out in one last, triumphant crescendo.

Turning to Femi, he implores the diplomat to say, "Chief Itzel, we are highly skilled professionals. There is not a task that we cannot accomplish. We posses great magics to come here from the 'other side'. Now where is the pisser?"


Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

"Wait, we are going to go after cannibals on purpose? We damn well better get something good from these natives if we are going to go risk getting killed and eaten, or eaten and killed," Gado whispers to Baszil.

Gado notices Baszil's overt body language towards the women. Unaccustomed to these things himself, he figures the man is fairly accomplished at bedding women. Staring for a minute or two to take mental notes, he puffs his scrawny chest out in an attempt to mimic the actions. It couldn't hurt to try. Plus, it had been a long couple of months at sea, and Aeslin had shown no interest in helping to keep moral high. At least through that method.

Prove our might by destroying a cannabilistic tribe that threatens these people, and put themselves in our figurative debt all at the same time. Aside from the wanton destruction of life, all in all I suppose its a pretty sound business plan. Except for the part where failure means I get eaten before I even have a chance to study the planar connections on this mysterious island.


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

Femi fort save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

Femi really enjoys the nectar. It has a slightly numbing effect on his tongue, but in a pleasant way.

"Ship? Tell me more of ship? It like canoe or longboat?" Chief Itzel asks. From what Femi saw, there was nothing bigger than a ten-man longboat beached on the bay, "How it help with cannibals? They come at night, mostly. They take men, women, children but leave the old. Three or four live captives, then gone for months. Always back, though. Always hungry for more."

After some more discussion, the group realizes that it has been this way for as long as any here can remember. The cannibals strike mostly at night, and mostly take the healthiest (or juiciest) specimens back on longboats to their island to eat. Chief Itzel has a pretty good idea of where their island is, but won't tell anyone just yet in case they decide to 'stir up trouble'. They do not dare assault the island. The last cannibal attack would coincide with Barbarosa's arrival here.

Elon fort save: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Elon is similarly impressed with the liquid. He does have several ideas about how to improve its flavor - and potency. A bare-breasted but homely woman steps up to the base of the pyramid, "Short-man, you know of brewing? You have way make nectar better?" Her feet are stained yellow, and Elon guesses it is from stomping on mangoes to juice them. She seems most eager to hear what he has to say, but remains skeptical that a male would have much to add to her process.

Mtumbwi wrote:
"Chief Itzel ... We posses great magics ..."

"Hssss!" the Zombie Master, Cihuateteo, exhales deeply between clenched teeth at the mention of magics, "Forbidden! Forbidden!" He stands and ascends two steps of the pyramid. His hunched posture is gone as he points a bony, long-nailed finger at Mtumbwi, "No magics but mine!"

Chief Itzel seems agitated by the interruption, but she does not countermand Cihuateteo. Instead, she waits to see how these newcomers react.


Male Human N Shipwright 4 | HP: 24/27 Drown 21/26| AC: 16[19], 12[13] Tch, 15[18] Fl) | CMB: +4, CMD: 16 | F: +6, R: +3, W: +9 | Init: +1 | Perc: +8, SM: +4 | Speed 30ft | Spells: 1st 4/5, 2nd 2/4, Storm Burst 7/7, Enlarge 7/7, Channel 2/2, Hero Point 2/3 | Active conditions: SoFaith, Barkskin, W oAwe, TofSea

Mtumbwi stands up, takes out his dick, and begins to piss into an empty bowl. Giving it a good shake to get all the urine off, he puts it back in his loin cloth and turns to Cihuateteo. "You talk loud. And say a lot of words. Are you a chief here to tell us what we can and cannot do? Am I a member of your tribe that you should speak to me in this manner? Best sit down before you get a foot up your ass."

Turning to Femi, "You get all that? Need me to say it again slower? Tell the lady chief what I said."

Making no move towards any of his weapons, Mtumbwi stands erect, staring at Cihuateteo.


Labyrinth HP 47/47; AC 15/14/11; Saves 4/5/7; Init +3; Perc +10; Sense Motive +2
Isle of Dread wrote:
"Ship? Tell me more of ship? It like canoe or longboat?" Chief Itzel asks. From what Femi saw, there was nothing bigger than a ten-man longboat beached on the bay, "How it help with cannibals? They come at night, mostly. They take men, women, children but leave the old. Three or four live captives, then gone for months. Always back, though. Always hungry for more."

”Of course. Our ship is very large, like dozens of longboats lashed together, but not really. It’s hard to describe. It’s like…”

Mtumbwi wrote:
Mtumbwi stands up, takes out his dick, and begins to piss into an empty bowl.

”I, uh, it’s like…”

Mtumbwi wrote:

Giving it a good shake to get all the urine off, he puts it back in his loin cloth and turns to Cihuateteo. "You talk loud. And say a lot of words. Are you a chief here to tell us what we can and cannot do? Am I a member of your tribe that you should speak to me in this manner? Best sit down before you get a foot up your ass."

Turning to Femi, “You get all that? Need me to say it again slower? Tell the lady chief what I said.”

”Yeah. OK.”

Femi throws a scarf over his shoulder and grimaces briefly, No one said this would be easy old salt. You work with what you have.

He takes a deep breath, ”My friend here, Mtumbwi, wants to know if Cihuateteo speaks for you? Should we answer to him as we answer to you? We, uh, are not members of your tribe, and though we respect it, there will be of course differences between us, which you should also respect. Do not make the mistake of thinking we are weak.”

He rushes onward, hoping not to get too hung up in the moment.

”Look, we can do what we say. If you are concerned that our attack on them get back to you, fear not. We can approach their island from a different direction, so they won’t know we came from here. We are not here to cause trouble, but rather resolve it and investigate your culture. Learn from you and perhaps trade.”


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

+1 to the newcomer trying to wrap his hands diplomatically around this cast of idiots roleplayed yahoos. Well played, sir Femi. You're either a master or we're making this too easy on you.

Bazsil nods, backing up the sweet talking Femi.

"Also, we can try to eliminate the cannibal's food source so that they die slowly from starvation," Baszil offers helpfully.


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

Flavorful, to say the least. Elon thinks as he downs his cup in one go, glad to have something new to taste after being cooped up on the boat for a month.

"Hmm... I do have some ideas. Show me your setup and we can talk turkey... or god-nectar, as it were." Elon says, following the yellow-footed woman, smelling the faint aroma of mangoes as he trails behind her, leaving the rest of the crew to discuss annoying things like cannibals and boats.

Elon would prefer if Mtumbwi is not erect at any point around him, standing or otherwise. ;-)


Female N Human (Kellish) Archeologist 4 | HP: 25/25 (9/9 temp) | AC: 16 (12 tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +2, CMD: 14 | F: +2, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +0, SM: +0 | Speed 30ft | Spells: Possibly || Active conditions: Mage Armor, False Life, Comp Languages

As Aeslin sees the shipwrights urinating in a bowl, she exclaims, "Wel, I never!"
Deathly afraid they will be offending their hosts, she gives the man a look so stern that he should wilt under it... At least until the magics of the look overwhelm his brain and he passes out where he stands. slumber hex dc17 or falls asleep for four rounds.

In a very loud voice, typical of a tourist trying to get a native to understand her butchery of their language she says, "I am very sorry for my uncouth friend here. This is the first time he ever saw a feast so extraordinary. I am sure he was overwhelmed and such. "
Back in common she yells "Gavin., Cleanup this fool before he wakes. And get some pants on him!"


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

Femi does his best to deflect the vitriol, disrespect and bravado in Mtumbwi's tirade as he translates.

Femi wrote:
"My friend here, Mtumbwi, wants to know if Cihuateteo speaks for you? Should we answer to him as we answer to you?"

"Cihuateteo is Zombie Master. Me Chief," Itzel says it as though that should explain everything. When she sees that it does not, she adds, "Chief in charge of living people in village. Zombie Master in charge of ancestors. Zombie Master keep traditions and laws. Zombie Master assign new chief when need new chief. Zombie Master mostly not speak and not interfere. When Zombie Master speak, all listen: even the dead."

Sense motive, DC 15: 1d6d6 ⇒ 4

"Ship you speak of sounds good. Plan sounds good," Chief Itzel nods, "Show me ship later and we speak more of how deal with cannibals later. First, how what you have for trade."

<Elon>
The homely woman smiles, revealing several missing and even more rotten teeth. She clearly enjoys quite a bit of her own sugary nectar of the gods. "Come." is all she says as she leads Elon into the Vole clan's circle of huts. Just before the graveyard, sits a hut that has been fortified with stones. They have been almost glued together with a strange black tar. It is the only hut of that kind around here, and Elon can see that the stones are here primarily for insulation as the interior of the hut is far cooler than the outside. It is also dug into the earth about three feet for further insulation.

The interior is simple, a series of crude barrels on shelves as well as shelves of disfigured, hand-blown bottles. In the center of the room is a pit that was clearly used for crushing the mangoes - pulp still clings to its sides. The woman points to one of the barrels: "Yeast culture." she says. At least, from the sharp smell, Elon assumes that is what those words were (Master Donal did not include the words she used in his lessons).

The whole setup is very crude, and not overly sterile.
</Elon>

Meanwhile, back at the pyramid, Aeslin panics and hexes Mtumbwi.

Mtumbwi will save: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

The shipwright suddenly feels very sleepy. He quickly closes his eyes and flops down ungracefully upon the pyramid steps, snoring loudly.

Aeslin bluff: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (12) + 0 = 12 -- To hide that it was a spell casting, and for the lies about Mtumbwi being overwhelmed.
Cihuateteo sense motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
Cihuateteo spellcraft, unfamiliar with witchcraft: 1d20 + 12 - 5 ⇒ (15) + 12 - 5 = 22 -- To realize that magic was used.

Oh dear.

"Magic!" cries Cihuateteo, pointing a crone-like finger accusingly at Aeslin, "Ancestors! Drive blasphemers from village!"

A look of horror overcomes most of the villagers. Women and men alike grab their children and start to run back to their huts.

I won't enter combat rounds just yet. I'll give you guys a chance to do some things. Elon, you hear Cihuateteo screaming from the brewery. Your guide looks very worried.


Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

"Holy bones of Wee Jas!" Gado freezes for a moment at the sudden shift in the conversation. He looks around frantically, and then quick steps his way over to Bazsil.

"Sorry Femi, this isn't going to help matters!!" he shouts, uncomfortably loud in his panic heightened state.

Pulling out a slender, mahagony rod, Gado begins to chant in draconic. He places his hand on his oily-haired friend's shoulder and finishes his incantation.

"mage armor!"

If there is time, Gado will use his pearl of power to recall that spell, then cast it on himself.

"I was going to ask why he is the only one who gets to cast spells! Curse my tangled tongue..." He mutters to himself, a tinge of fear in his voice.


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

Bazsil facepalms as Aeslin instigates open war with the tribe. He shakes his head for the violent tendencies that push armed confrontation before reasoned discourse. He shakes his head with sadness for the blood he must now spill in defense of his friends.

Why do women always seek violence before talking? Why!?

Bazsil nods to Gado, appreciating the magics upon his skin. He draws Lucy from his handy haversack, feeling the weight of the metal in his palms, girding himself for combat.

"Thank you, Smart Little Man," Bazsil says, flicking his now protected curls over his shoulder. "Stay behind me and I will keep you safe. Time to teach these warriors how to fight!"

Bazsil nods at Ciaran, seeing if the man is getting ready to rumble.


Female N Human (Kellish) Archeologist 4 | HP: 25/25 (9/9 temp) | AC: 16 (12 tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +2, CMD: 14 | F: +2, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +0, SM: +0 | Speed 30ft | Spells: Possibly || Active conditions: Mage Armor, False Life, Comp Languages

"What? Magics? Why would you think that?"

She looks at Sebastian, who rolls his eyes at her. "I mean, I am sorry... I was merely trying prevent you from being offended by the lout's peeing in the dishes."

"Well, Sebastian, it was inevitable if they are as superstitious as they look. Guess we test out the zombie master's power. I'll be he is lacking."

She looks at the zombie master... giving him a little smile, mentally urging him to sleep.


Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

Ciaran, having been watching Cihuateteo carefully, is moving as soon as the words start coming out of his mouth. He sprints across to the Zombie Master, attempting to sweep him up in a rugby tackle.

Grapple: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

+2 for charging?

If Aeslin's slumber hex goes off first and he passes out, he skids to a halt right in front of him instead.


Labyrinth HP 47/47; AC 15/14/11; Saves 4/5/7; Init +3; Perc +10; Sense Motive +2
Cihuateteo wrote:
"Magic!" cries Cihuateteo, pointing a crone-like finger accusingly at Aeslin, "Ancestors! Drive blasphemers from village!"

Femi steps in and tries to calm the man down, "Now look here Cihuateteo. Just calm down a moment, won't you? It was, after all, just a minor thing. Nothing, I'm sure, like what you can do, right?"

"I mean, can you show us something impressive, I mean really impressive? That would surely show everyone who is the truly powerful here."

Femi continues to work his mouth, so as to avoid combat with these natives. If Cihuateteo seems at all responsive, he leaves it at that, but if it's clear that combat of some sort is imminent, he kicks Mtumbwi awake if he can.

EDIT: Just saw I was ninjaed... Femi still tries to chatter away, but he's more likely to be awakening Mtumbwi. hehehe


Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

Everyone else does it to me - it's only fair I do it to you :) It's the problem of living in the wrong timezone


Male Human N Shipwright 4 | HP: 24/27 Drown 21/26| AC: 16[19], 12[13] Tch, 15[18] Fl) | CMB: +4, CMD: 16 | F: +6, R: +3, W: +9 | Init: +1 | Perc: +8, SM: +4 | Speed 30ft | Spells: 1st 4/5, 2nd 2/4, Storm Burst 7/7, Enlarge 7/7, Channel 2/2, Hero Point 2/3 | Active conditions: SoFaith, Barkskin, W oAwe, TofSea
Euphemia 'Femi' Ferka wrote:
but he's more likely to be awakening Mtumbwi. hehehe

Works for me

"What the f&%%?! Who f!!*ing thought it was a good idea to put me to sleep? You a@~&~*# Aeslin. i am going to shove that rat of yours so far up your ass you can comb your tongue!"

Pushing himself off the floor, Mtumbwi charges at the witch, hand cocked back. Upon reaching her, he swings as hard as he can at her jaw.

Unarmed Strike, assuming does not provoke as she is not armed vs Aeslin: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Damage, NL: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3


Female N Human (Kellish) Archeologist 4 | HP: 25/25 (9/9 temp) | AC: 16 (12 tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +2, CMD: 14 | F: +2, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +0, SM: +0 | Speed 30ft | Spells: Possibly || Active conditions: Mage Armor, False Life, Comp Languages

oh, you think there is any chance that she is that close to you, Mtumbwi? Slumber hex has range! She is armed, too. She has two of them!


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

Elon hears the loud raucous noises that are surely to have emanated from his cohorts, but the dwarf is uninterested.

"Hmmm... you need to clean up your setup. Need giant barrel for mango smashing. No use the pit. Dirt makes god-nectar bad. Add local grains to add depth of flavor and to cut the sweetness." Torgan starts listing off in the local tongue.

"The chilled room is a nice touch, but curtains need to be added to remove light from the equation. Prevents skunking, though you likely can't taste it over the sickly sweetness." Elon says as he runs his fingers over the bricks and the weird tar.

Cheerfully looking at the woman, he gleefully says. "This will do! I have some ingredients on the long canoe that we can start with, but first can I cleanse the mango pit with nature's blessing?" he asks, wanting to purify the mango pulp before it turns from being exposed to open air in the pit for this long.

Should be similar to a mango lambic due to open-air contaminants, so there is likely some sourness to the god-nectar as well. I'm intrigued and now want to brew a mango beer since my raspberry marzen turned out to be very good.


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

"Get out of here!" cries Chief Itzel, her voice fearful rather than commanding, "You have violated our laws! If you stay, you die!" Unless stopped, the chief's servants help her down from the pyramid and she rushes to her hut for safety.

Ciarán makes a running grab for the the Zombie Master, who easily steps out of the way. He sees Gado applying a mage armor to Bazsil and hisses loudly, "Magics! More blasphemy! Drive them out, ancestors!" Cihuateteo seems to hear Femi's plea, but a wicked smile is his only response. Femi realizes that the Zombie Master probably didn't want them here in the first place and their use of magic was as good an excuse as any to send them packing.

Mutumbwi awakens only to stand and rush over to Aeslin, and smash her in the face (not really running combat rounds, but that PvP thing sounded fun - Aeslin, if you object and think you would have seen it coming, you can have instead run away from Mtubmwi).

The other companions may be preparing to battle the warriors of the four clans, but these warriors seem just as intent upon getting their families away as the non-combatants are. Evidently, Cihuateteo does not need the tribe's fighters to enforce his laws... at least not the living ones.

A low groan makes itself known over the commotion surrounding the pyramid. It starts off first from the north, but then seems to come from all directions. Moments later, shuffling figures appear between the houses. As one, they move toward the pyramid. The dead of the village have come to drive the intruders away. The animated corpses of men and women alike, some devoid of skin some with pussy flesh mounds still clinging to their frames. A few of the fleshless defenders have small pits of flames glowing within their eye sockets. Some of the undead army carry weapons hewn of bone - surprisingly well-polished - whereas others simply brandish the sharpened points of their own bones.

All told, at least thirty zombies and skeletons are pushing their way toward the central mound and the pyramid upon which the crew find themselves. Within moments, the crew of The Audacious are all but surrounded. The only clear path is to the south west, and back along the trail to the beach.

So, you can run for it if you like and no rolling will be necessary. They aren't being commanded to kill you (unless you decide to stay), just to drive you out. I have no problems telling you that this combat would both be epic and very hard for all of you to survive.

<Elon>
"What you talking about?" the woman cries, clearly distressed at both the events and that Elon seems to be taking things so calmly, "Your friends being driven out by ancestors that walk!"

As the undeterred Elon continues, his calmness seems to be infectious. The woman's breathing slows a little as she pays attention to what he says, "Hmm. That surprisingly good advice. No light and keep clean, you say? Yes. Could work. Please, 'cleanse with nature's blessing'."

I think if you made a mango lambic based on a fictional drink from my campaign, I may have to come visit you to try it...
</Elon>


Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

"To fight, or not to fight?" Gado muses, his panic rising again at the sheer volume of undead around them. He looks back nervously to the pathway back to the beach.

"You are being manipulated Itzel! Your zombie master sends the cannibals in to steal your people to create his army of undead! He is in league with your enemy and controls you through fear! He lets you think you are the chief, but he holds the power! These are not your ancestors! They are merely the shells of their former bodies, stolen and twisted by your dead-speaker!"

That might not be exactly right, but I don't think I am too far off...

Gado begins to back up towards the opening, torn on whether to stay or flee to the longboat. It looks like certain death is surrounding him and his crew-mates. But saving the villagers from this necromancer would get him laid for sure. If they realized they had actually been saved, that is.

Disappointed deep down by his indecision and lack of intestinal fortitude, he looks to Bazsil and the others to see what they do.

An epic fight sounds like so much fun, but it would suck to lose someone so soon after we finally got to the island. I'm torn. Leaning towards running, and perhaps seeing how this plays out in the long run as we meet more natives. I think Cihuateteo is a fantastic villain already. Not sure if he was intended to be a villian, but thats where we are!

Also, let me know if Gado has enough time to recall and recast mage armor before we have to make our fight or flight decision. Both castings would be with the extend metamagic rod for 8 total hours of protection. Shoulda done that when we were warming up on the beach... lesson learned.


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

Bazsil turns to glare at Femi.

"FEMI! You really screwed this up!" Bazsil says, clearly blaming the person totally at fault. "What IDIOT invited you to come here?!"

Bazsil turns to address the hordes of undead, a grim and smug smile on his face. He turns to address the party.

"Run if you wish to run. I shall catch up...for I run as the fish swims!" Bazsil says confidently. "Much faster than you stubby legged."

Bazsil begins a series of martial exercises with Lucy that he's sure (at least in his mind) will dazzle and delay both the living and the dead, hence giving the others time to get away.


Labyrinth HP 47/47; AC 15/14/11; Saves 4/5/7; Init +3; Perc +10; Sense Motive +2

Femi scowls at Bazsil, but says nothing.

He looks at the advancing hoard and says, ”I’m betting if we wipe out their ancestors they’re going to come at us with their warriors for the dishonor or some-such. I think it’s time to beat a hasty retreat and let them sort out their own cannibal troubles!”

With that Femi makes a hasty retreat toward the ship. Assuming the others follow, he doesn’t stop until he’s on board, where he gets to a spot where he has a good view of the path in case the undead try to swarm the ship.


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

"Eh, those people will be fine." Elon says dismissively as he continues to look over the rudimentary brewing setup. "Need more wood. Wonder what types of wood they have on the island..." he mumbles to himself.

Once he hears of her approval, Elon sets to work, bending down near the pit. He extends his hands and invokes the Green Faith as green light, leaves and roots begins to emanate from his hands. "Nature has brought this boon to our table and we have kept it far too long. Please allow us one more chance..." he intones as the roots and leaves washes over the remains of the pulp in the pit.

Finished, he stands up and claps his hands. "Alright! Now do you mash the mango flesh only? What do you do with the skins?" he wonders.


Steelkeg Yak 4 | HP: 22/22 | AC: 17 (11 Tch, 16 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 17 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +1 | Init: +1 | Perc: +0 | Speed 40ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: One day... | Active conditions: None.

Barley, content to follow his best friend, meanders behind him and the shapely woman with weird teeth. Mooo... he thinks to himself as he feels the pangs of hunger.

Luckily, he spies leftover mango peels and begins to heartily chew on them. "Mooooooooo..." he utters happily, having never tasted such deliciousness before.

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