The Father of Waters

Game Master Fighting Chicken

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Detectives
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The warehouse door hangs open, Texikuk's keys dangling from the lock. Once inside, the smell assaults you immediately, pungent and gag-inducing: spoilage, everywhere.

Tex begins wandering the warehouse, horror on her face. "No. Nononononono..." All around you, the foodstuffs are rotted, as if days, or even weeks are passed, even the preserved foods like smoked eel and dried woodland onions covered in a thick, black mold. Holding her hand over her mouth and nose, the Excise-Head barks an order. "Cover your breath, in and out! Who knows what this mold brings with it!"

Towards the back, Rigel stumbles on the guards, both men lying in thick puddles of blood, their skin slashed and cut. Nurix's knife is drawn and bloody, though who's blood covers it, it is tough to say. Telltuk never saw the attack coming, apparently - his spear is still strapped to his back.

A few bloody steps lead out of the puddle of blood, quickly becoming tacky in the putrid air, before they stop abruptly. A bloody shirt lies next to the footsteps.

"Careful! He could still be here. We need to find him before he strikes again! Rigel - can you see which way he has gone? Your eyes are better than mine in the dark."

Drazan's breath begins to strain as he is outmaneuvered and and outnumbered, but he continues to attack the injured mountain man despite the ache in his muscles and the impending, absolute fatigue.

The club-wielding Frozen collapses under the fury of Istiel's attacks, while Oios takes advantage of the hatchet wielder's turned back to stab the unsuspecting raider. The wounded Frozen gasps in pain, and taking quick note of his collapsing companion, tries to shift away from the fight.

On the other side of the house, despite Drazan's exhaustion, the Man From Fire Peaks lays a wicked slash across his foe's chest, dropping him in a heap. The remaining Frozen ducks and runs for cover, as quickly as his feet can carry him.

COMBAT MAP

Istiel twists her body as the club-wielding man swings in a brutal downward arc, the wooden weapon grazing her robes. As the weapon hits the ground her fist connects with his throat, crushing his adam's apple and robbing him of any future breaths.

The monk whirls, foot-first, to face the axe-wielding man; only to find air in the space his head once occupied. Bleeding and panting, she looks to Oios and snaps at him. "I did not ask for help!" was bellowed while reaching down to pull her javelin from the club man's body with a sickening, sucking sound.

Istiel turns to the south and hoists the missile over her shoulder, taking a step forward and loosing the javelin towards axe-wielding the runner with a mighty grunt.

Drazan's burning body speeds after the fleeing survivor, steam screaming up from where his burning feet land.

This is not a play tournament girl. There is no asking for help. You have two arms and a foot on Legba's crossroad, I am badly hurt, the entirety of the enemy army knows that we are here. Heal yourself monk we need to get away

Oios drinks a potion and calls Drazan! The leader has escaped and we are exposed! We need to get away from here.

Scouts

The Frozen running to the south grunts as Istiel's javelin lands with a wet thunk into the man's shoulder, but stooped over, he keeps running.

The raider closest to Drazan, however, is not so fortunate. With two swings of the bane axe, the fleeing Mountain Man is cut down, one severed arm still twitching in the mud as the rest of the man falls, dead, a few steps later.

All around you, the rain falls as the man to the south runs into the storm, soon to be lost to sight.

"I am fine." Istiel watches the javelin cut through the rain towards the man.

"My javelin is escaping." She growls in frustration as the runner does not fall, immediately breaking into a run herself. The warrior lines herself up with the coward and begins a short-distance sprint, leaping over any obstacles in the way.

Pounding feet and squishing mud close in on the mountain man until suddenly the monk grabs the spear lodged in his shoulder, yanking him backwards and kicking at the inside of his knee.

Oios bites back a curse as he runs after Isitel. Drazan to the south!

Oios runs after Isitel and her prey.

The Frozen running south stumbles under Istiel's assault and then falls as Oios' attack grazes the back of his head. The man lays bleeding, breath growing fainter by the second.

Istiel pulls the javelin from the man's shoulder, then stabs him in the back of the neck. She is still upset with Oios, but does agree with him. "More will come soon. They will track us. We must return to our walls."

Stepping on the frozen's back, she pulls out the javelin and walks back to the north. She robs the breath from any of the raiders still clinging to life while Oios and Drazen prepare to depart.

Panting Oios uncorks a healing potion and sighs with relief as the blessing of Loco revives him and knits together the worst of his gashes.

Later, if we manage to get to safety, then you and I will have words monk. Oios grunts as they move to rejoin Drazan.

Istiel's eyes are focused forward as she walks. "My Master already provides all the lectures I care to hear." She stops at the club-wielding man she was fighting, crushing his neck under her boot.

Drazan heaves a heavy sigh as his rage turns to fatigue and he dismisses his transformation from fire back to man. Slowly the man from fire peaks walks back to meet with Oios and Istiel.

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Scouts
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You make your way north, towards the Western Watchtower, passing quickly through a couple of farmsteads that seem to be untouched, thankful for the rain that clouds the scene even a hundred feet from you, and hopeful that any tracks will be washed away soon enough.

You make your way across another farmstead's fields, when Drazan looks to his boots. There among the runner-beans sitting in a few inches of water, there is a black sludge swirling in the flooded fields.

Boots making sucking sounds through the bean field, you approach the farmhouse, only to find a green ribbon tied along the doorhandle, the house itself empty and ransacked.

Moving slightly west, the group jogs through another farmstead's lands, this one belonging to the Heldrens, a larger building with an outkitchen and a small goat pen. There is a yellow ribbon tied around the goat pen, in which the goats stand, sullen-faced and soaking wet, but alive.

Istiel uncorks a gourd filled with the Frozen's healing blood-draught, pouring it into her mask hole in a slow, practice manner. The gourd is tossed into the field, floating in the thin film of black sludge.

She eyes the film for a moment, and shakes her head. They do something to our lands. It cannot be good.

The appearances of the ribbons are an oddity, especially the one around the goat pen. "Do they mark the searched structures? Their looting is disturbingly organized for savages."

"Maybe it is time to stop underestimating them as savages. They craft quality weapons and wield tools that turn walls and bridges to rubble. They are also well organized and cooperating with other tribes without much trouble. Three People has a serious threat here." Drazan says eyeing the goats.

"How were they able to manage a surprise attack?"

"Rigel! Rigel!"
Imix paused, a rare moment of almost-empathy. Memories rose up of how betrayed he had felt in the Labyrinth, how he had reacted.
Heedless of the danger he put a hand on Rigel's shoulder. "It isn't him. We need to stop this creature from undermining his legacy. Your mayor gave his life for this town - don't let his death destroy that."

Then, all out of time, he screams for the other to follow and runs shouting out into the night, the glowing nimbus of an enraged Suriname around him.

Green for looted, yellow for places to be looted. Oios says to the others before noticing something.

Group of ten, scavenging potatoes to the east. We must not alert them. The word of how organized this force is must get back to Shadeholme.

Istiel shakes her head at Drazen, water tumbling off of her cloak."The quality of their tools and alchemy do not matter. Their actions make them savage. They kill, loot, and desecrate for the whim of a false god. If they were all Drazen of the Fire Peaks we would be the land of the Four People."

She nods at Oios' assessment of the ribbons- it made sense, though she had difficulty imagining a Frozen coming up with the idea of using colored string for anything. The false priests that united the mountain men must be in charge.

Her head turns to the east as Oios points them out, though she cannot see them. The warrior monk is momentarily silent, and then speaks through obviously clenched teeth. "If you saw a woman being raped by ten men you would try to stop it. But you will walk away from the rape of our land?"

These are potatoes girl. You insult your master with your mulish ways. If you think that all three of us dying to save a few tubers is a higher priority than warning Shadeholme of what it is that we face in this war then I am forced to question if the fault is yours for being a poor student or his for being a poor teacher. Oios snaps losing patience at the bullheaded young monk and starts moving around the scavengers.

Istiel growls and clenches her fists, her eyes furious for the few moments she continues to look at Oios. However, she says nothing and begrudgingly follows him - she has been berated many times in such a way before, and knows it is pointless to argue.

Where will it stop? First tubers and goats. Next our people and homes. They will only stop when dead.

After a few moments it is clear Oios is more of a figurative shadow rather than a literal one. "That grass you are heading to is phragmite. It grows in swamps and the edges of ponds. We will get stuck in the mud. Make for the trees instead." As these words exit her mouth, her left boot sinks over a foot into a puddle. Aghast, Istiel shakes her leg to no avail before pulling it out, with a huge sucking noise, with two hands.

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Scouts
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With the figures suitably distracted with their task and the rainstorm deadening sound and vision, you slink away easily enough and continue towards the watchtower. You pass through more farms, some with ribbons some not, and once you think you spy another group of people moving in the distance.

In all, not quite an hour has passed since the fight you were in earlier, and you know soon you'll be at the Western Watchtower. You'd be easily able to see it, if it weren't for this gods damnable rain...

Which, times not being so dire, what happens next would be almost laughable. Within a few seconds the downpour tapers off to mere drizzle, and with it, the horizon seems to elongate, your field of vision increased greatly.

The storm drove you a little off course, but with the increased visibility comes the realization that you're close to the watchtower. It stands a few hundred feet to the northeast, three squat stories of well-cut, thick stone. To the east of the tower, just out of bow range in a flooded field, an encampment has sprung up; a mass of tents, with figures milling about them.

To your west lies the forest that stretches much of the way to the Teeth of the World's foothills. The sounds of construction - sawing, hammering, the babble of men shouting, makes its way across the drizzle to your ears, about the same time that four short horn blasts echo from the south, followed by two longer ones.

"Looks like they have skilled trackers to be keeping this pace, or maybe its just their numbers that lets them go in all directions. We must keep moving, and quickly."

As the rain fades Istiel is immediately disheartened by the encampment around the watchtower- no doubt its occupants have already been killed, desecrated, or enslaved. They have completely surrounded Shadeholme. Will any runners get through to the capital?

The horn blasts from the south clearly signal they are being followed. Considering the group had killed over six men, the frozen undoubtedly were sending a large hunting party their way. "Yes. Damballah's blessed cover has ended. We move north until out of sight of the encampment then east to return to the walls."

Lead on Isitel. Speed is of the essence here.

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Scouts
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Teeth gritted in tension, you reach the low city, and make your way cautiously into it. Many of the dwellings have green ribbons tied to the doors, and on occasion you hear the guttural and sharp sounds of the Frozen language bouncing off a wall or carried on the mist down the street, raiders nearby but luckily unmet. Footprints here and there show signs of passage, and you find, stacked in an alleyway, two score bodies of villagers, including, throat slit, the dim but sweet Chasqui, Kiko.

From the shadows comes a whisper - "Ai!" - and from the darkness reaches out a bloody arm, followed by the bleached pine beastial mask of the warrior-monk Scree. She points up and you see it, circling high above you, a dark winged shape. Then Scree points down the alleyway, past the bodies, and says quickly, "A misshapen giant will be back with more bodies soon. I've been watching him come and go."

please remove the following from all memory

Then, all out of time, he screams for the other to follow and runs shouting out into the night, the glowing nimbus of an enraged Suriname around him.

Imix paused "Texikuk. Take the children. Go to Tolita's house. Tell the people there what has happened. Take the knife as evidence. Get reinforcements." he pauses "I'm sorry Texikuk. I don't think I can give you what you wanted. With hindsight I regret losing these last few days together."

The tension as the group moves through the misty lower city is palpable. Istiel is ready for horns to blare, barbarians to crash through windows into the street, and to climb over the walls of Eel Mound on a mound of dead Frozen corpses.

Instead, she simply finds a pile of villager corpses.

Stopping, the monk feels a wave of regret wash over her; more people she failed to protect. The sight of Chasqui Kiko is particularly discouraging. He probably died trying to hide, no one to defend him...

Scree's warning causes Istiel to jump and briefly fall into a defensive stance. "Scree!" She whispers, former despair washed away by renewed hope. It amuses her that perhaps few would imagine being excited to see Scree; these are strange times.

The crow Scree warns about is enough to make the monk slowly move into the shadows herself, warily watching the... bird? A crow? Istiel looks to Scree. "We are scouting. How soon will the giant be back? What is it doing?"

She briefly glances around, expecting to see more familiar masks. "...Where are the other monks?"

We must burn these bodies. It is far less than they deserve but far better than to have them as fuel for dark magic. Oios says. This giant... Does it come alone?

Drazan squints up at the aerial creature causing a reflexive clenching of his jaw before he looks back to the others. "You don't have time to burn bodies and wait for giants, pursuers will be here in great number and all this will be for nothing. You can fight and burn alone with short memories or continue on with Scree and live." Drazan turns to take a few steps toward their continued course emphasizing his intent to go on.

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Scouts
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Scree's voice comes high-pitched with anxiety. "He comes every few minutes, a few corpses slung over his shoulders like sacks of potatoes."

Her voice lowers, suddenly shakey tinged with sadness, or perhaps regret. "Dead. We went north into the treeline, where we met... an army. Our monks died with honor, and took many with them to the crossroads, but it was over in less than a minute. I knew I would serve everyone better alive, so I ran south. There was a bottleneck at the bridge, so I continued, eventually moving east and up the Wooded Way, alongside the road. They have small patrols on the road, groups of four or five at a time. I crossed the canal south, and then crossed it again after making my way west, and came into the city. I've been in this alley for an hour, trying to judge if I could take the misshapen one."

Turning to Oios, the monk continues. "Yes, he comes alone."

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Imix
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Texikuk nods and gathers the children, her eyes wide with fear. "I need to complete the survey. And we need to make sure no one else tampers with our food. Be careful, Suriname Imix." That said, she ushers the children out the door and heads for the former chief engineer's house.

As you pull the basket from the shelf, the guards answer your questions. These buildings are meant to withstand disaster. Look at the stone walls - five feet thick at least. Still, perhaps we could light the roof? The slate shingles won't burn, but the crossbeams are wood..."

Rigel, meanwhile, stares at the shirt laying bloody, beside the footprints. "That. That was his shirt," she murmurs, face totally devoid of expression.

Basket in hand, Imix lifts the lid...

Inside, atop some of last fall's chestnut harvest, you find a rumpled bit of flesh-colored cloth. Or, that's what you think at first. Heart pounding, you realize it isn't cloth, but rather skin. Someone's skin...

Keenly aware of being surrounded by the enemy Oios reluctantly withdraws his hand from his pack.

We are hurting and tired. We need to get back and report and see what everyone else is doing. If all of Shadeholme does not work in concert we are even more certain of being doomed. Come with us Scree, we go back behind the walls

Istiel listens to Scree, naturally expressionless, as her worst fears ate confirmed. She is silent for a moment, looking down at the ground "I see." is spoken softly, and the fire on monks mound enters her mind, as fresh as when it was pointed out to her.

Her attention turns to the pile of corpses, and the thought of the giant, to clear her remorse. "Scree, you and I can kill it if-"

The monk's attempt to re-energize and get back at the murderers of her comrades is interrupted by Oios. She knew his words were true, and she felt slightly broken as a result. The two bloodied monks could have a glorious death between them, but what would be the point? I watched the monks charge north. I wanted to join them. Would I be at the crossroads now, finishing my Journey if I had? I must apologize to my Master. He was right again.

Voice cracking with trepidation, Istiel actually agrees with the priest. "Yes... Return with us Scree. We will avenge our brothers and sisters tomorrow."

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Scouts
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Scree nods, and you move on, wending by the corpses and moving further into the city. By sticking to side roads and alleyways, you manage to make it to Eel Mound unseen, and then, circling around to the ghats, you sprint for the top...

...which you reach, unmolested, the winged creature circling high above you. The gates creak open, and you slip safely into Eel Mound, as the day begins to fade to night.

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Imix
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We have news from our scouting Oios says to the ones who opened the gate We need to report. Where are the leaders?

Istiel steps through the gates and is surprised as the tension leaves her body. It was nor stressful being outside the walls than she cared to admit.

Eyes training upward, she briefly watches the circling figure in the sky- wondering who, or what, was watching them.

With the adrenaline draining away the monk is acutely aware of the pain in her neck, arms, and legs. "I am going to the triage for bandages and food." Is all she says, walking away and leaving Oios to his reports. The revelation that her home has been burned to the ground and most of her "family" was dead has put her in no mood for talking.

Talking makes her think of Suuha, and while she knows he survived , she realizes she has not seen him since the morning.

For Drazan, the tension did not leave him as he stood there just inside the gates. These were not his people as they were always determined to remind him despite their common enemies. The only ones that had ever extended any interest in Drazan's well being he hadn't seen in days. Drazan followed Oios to attend to reporting the dire situation, but Drazan's thoughts were already shifting toward seeking out Lijart, Helaya, and maybe Sarre. Were they even still alive? What of the mountain man that had dedicated his life to Drazan?

"Let's be quick about this then. Other matters must be seen to before rest and heading back out to keep an eye on the movements of these invaders." Drazan said sternly, picking up his pace to walk along side Oios along their way to report. "An aggressive defense must be realized as soon as possible. Shadeholme will not be safe waiting for their numbers to answer any passiveness."

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Scouts
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A handful of guards stand at watch on the palisade walls, while another handful stand in the rain by the gate, ten in total. The sergeant, Antuk, orders the gate closed and barred behind you.

Scree nods her head. "I'm going to the triage as well." She briefly looks over herself, slick with gore, little of which has washed off in the drizzle. "Some of this blood is mine."

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Drazan and Oios
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Aktuk looks at you both wide-eyed, a grim smile on his thin face. "Looks like you two have been through the crossroads and back. Anyways, leader's missing. No one has seen Gilders since this morning."

The sergeant nods to Drazan. "Agreed. We need to think about our defense. Or at least how to take as many of them with us, if it comes to that."

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Istiel
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Despite the obvious emotional wounds of those in the triage, at least the wounded seem to be in good physical health. It is quickly apparent that the Suriname has been here.

The Copper Coywolf is still packed with humanity, however. Many sit around listlessly, as if in shock, slack expressions on their faces, the villagers staring off into nothing. The large common room is largely silent, although the wise woman Helgya moves among the wounded, murmuring softly to the villagers as she goes.

Near to the entrance, the cripple Issy sits on a footstool, an elderly villager's foot in her lap. The girl runs some brilliant blue dye over the woman's toes, painting them the color of a brilliant summer day.

She stands quickly as you and Scree enter, blushing. "I-I wanted her to feel beautiful," the girl stammers, before looking meekly at her own feet. "Everyone's wounds are stanched. The physical ones anyways. We have some bandages and ointment, and Ogwe's in the kitchen making soup, if you'd like some."

Istiel is covered in a similar amount of blood and mud- though she avoids mentioning much of it is her own. "It will be a long time until a proper bath. The savages burned down the dojo." She bitterly mentions, tone implying that the ones responsible will meet a swift end.

On entering the Copper Coywolf Istiel is shocked at the state of the villagers. A flicker of anger lights in her mind- she has lost the same if not more than anyone today, and yet she still fights and works.

Issy's sudden stammeeing interrupts her train of thought, and the monk looks over at the crippled girl. She ignores the excuses, and nods slowly. "Send for bandages and soup." The monk quickly glances across the room again. "Where are Suuha and Master Domhnall?

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Istiel
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Scree shrugs. "We will burn down their dojos then. And we will bathe in their misery."

Issy wrings her hands, nervously, and looking away, mumbles. "It isn't a bath, but... hold still." Her hand stretches out, shaking, and the blood and muck lifts off your clothes and separates in the air, growing thinner and smaller, until it is nothing, and you and your clothes are spotless. "We all deserve the dignity of being clean." Nodding, the girl looks at the floor and shuffles towards the kitchen.

Scanning the room, at first you don't see any monks, looking as you are for Suuha's cherrywood flame or Domhnall's morning glories. But after a few seconds you spy a familiar black robe, worn by a young man nursing a cup of soup, eyes closed (one with a nasty bruise surrounding it), back flat and straight against the tavern's wall.

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Imix
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Istiel comments to Scree- "As long as they are dead."

The monk casts a curious glance over Issy when she is asked to hold still. Istiel tenses for a moment, but when the nature of the cleaning magic reveals itself she wordlessly relaxes.

Lifting her arm, she marvels at her spotless sleeves. Even the grim under her nails was gone. "Thank you." Istiel murmurs to the girl, silently hoping no one thinks she looks too well-kept to have just participated in a protracted battle and scouting mission.

She was about to simply sit down when she finally figures out Suuha is sitting against the wall. Picking her way between the masses of people, she approaches him from the side. "Suuha." Interrupts his meditation, Istiel standing over him.

It was odd, no, almost disturbing, seeing him without the mask- no, his face. As if his head has been replaced. It was a fine replacement, at any rate. His handsomeness was certainly striking (and surprising); she had certainly not come to terms with this fact on the battlefield, and still struggled to do so. Suuha's skin was terminally pale due to a combination of apparent Tsinyah heritage and wearing black robes all day, while the faint stubble of black hair covered his normally shaven head and face. His features- angular and well defined, mystified her. He seems better suited for priesthood.

The monk lowers herself to the ground, sitting next to him and crossing her legs. "We avoided the crossroads today. You look well enough for it." She eyes the bruise on his face. "Your mask took the worst of it. A replacement will take some time. I would find you a hood..." Pausing, she looks down. "But they burned down our home." Inhaling a deep breath, the air whistles through the nose-holes on her mask when she exhales slowly. "I swear I will find the savages responsible and kill them."

We need him. If not him than the others. Where are Telowo? Domnhall? Hamfatten? Oios pauses for a second before continuing Bennet?