Ashshar hisses at the glorified turtle's escape "No! You die today, beast!" the lizardfolk yells as he grabs his spear in both hands...
... and starts running towards the border of the platform before jumping, aiming to land on Kalaktua with his spear mightily thrusting in hate..
"Stylish," Rehil comments to no one. The elf looks to Cole.
Nalverren directs the crews to fire on kalaktua once more.
First Crew:
Second Crew:
Two dragonbane catapult stones fly into the sky, one sailing just too far and the other landing dead-center on Kalaktua.
Tal drops two of his swords and redraws his bow.
Ashshar hurls himself at Kalaktua, taking flight as he leaps the gap between himself and the dragon-turtle. She turns and grabs him with her beaked jaws, inflicting horrible lacerations before dropping him. As he falls, Ashshar lashes out, plunging his spear deep into Kalaktua's unprotected neck. Steaming blood spurts over him as he rolls over her shell and splashes into the water.
Cole is only a heartbeat behind Ashshar, thundering along the bank before launching himself out over the water to smash down on the dragon-turtle’s shell.
On the shell, he scrambles for a foothold as he tries to bring the tribe's warmaul down once more in defense of its people.
Cole's maul slams down on Kalaktua's head. There is a crunch and scalding spray, and Cole rolls into the water next to Ashshar.
As he struggles to the bank, he looks back and sees Kalaktua's head drooping, the side of her head staved in by his blow - one eye dangling on its cord from her shattered eye socket in a welter of steaming crimson, her other lifeless.
After a minute, the big warforged’s head breaks the surface as he climbs back up onto the shore, trying to awkwardly spin back around to see if she still lives. At the sight of her destroyed head and broken shell, his gaze drifts back to his crew.
“That’s a lot of turtle meat.”
As his flesh is being rend, Ashshar can only hope that his companion finish the job so no Lizarsfolk falls prey of Kalaktua again.
The lizardfolk hits the water and starts plunging when hesees the beast's head following. Ashshar closes his eyes waiting for the moment... but it never comes. When he watches again, he sees Cole swimming towards the rest and Kalaktua's blood oozing in the water. The distinct mark of the warforged's weapon on the killing wound.
Before returning as well, Ashshar holds his breath and swims towards the maw. Still reeling from the pain, the lizardfolk breaks two of the turtle's fangs and swims ashore.
Walking to Cole, the hunter presents his one of the fangs "This isss your trophy, Cole Bane of the Devourer. And thiss one..." he says as he stuffs his fang in his puch "... is to remember the day you, sstrangerss to thiss land but friendss of me and my people, freed uss from our worsst nightmare. I am in debt with you all. And bleeding... a lot" he finish as he sits to catch his breath.
Tal spends a moment to relink people.
Tal then LOH's himself for
Tal then Channels for and excludes the dragon.
Tal then LOH's himself for
Tal then Channels for and excludes the dragon.
Tal drops Vaard from the link.
Tal then LOH's himself for
Tal then Channels for and excludes the dragon.
Tal casts Cure Light Wounds on himself 3 times , and then another 2 times .
When he's done, Tal retrieves all his weapons and begins to clean and store them away.
Cole takes the fang, which seems as big as a smaller fighter’s forearm, and nods to Ashshar.
“Bane of Devourer,” he monotones, as if feeling out the title, “I was happy to help, Ashshar.” He nods towards the team, where the strange multi-armed creature is literally bursting away the team’s hurts. “It was all of our efforts, though.”
“Well fought.”
He nods, “Affirmative.” He looks around at the ruined village. “Not ideal, but the immediate threat is gone. So what now? We head downstream?”
"I suggest we help the villagers as much as we can, rebuilding, burying the dead, scraping the shell out. It will make a very good building roof for them, perhaps a common house for village meetings. Unless things have changed, I also suggest we gather up as much blood and body parts from the corpse as we can, as they are, or at least were, quite valuable for enchanting magical items."
As the slayers of Kalaktua stand by and recover from their immediate ordeal, the ever-pragmatic lizardfolk descend upon the carcass with shoults of joy and immediately begin to dismember it. Bokehn shows up and nods, giving a crooked smile. "Very impressive. I think there's going to be a feast tonight, and I think I know who will be the guests of honour."
Bokehn is right. The sound of drums pounds long into the night and the jubilant villagers sway before the roaring fires. The menu is a little monotonous - lots of turtle meat, roasted - but the party mood is infectious.
Bokehn leans over, a turtle skewer in his hand, the firelight flickering over his face. "Pooma was saying that he knows the location of Kalaktua's lair. It's in the lake. We can check it out on the way downriver tomorrow. It's underwater but Pooma can lend us some potions to help with that. He says we killed the old girl, so the treasure is ours. He's just happy we killed her before she ate the village."
As Tal's power heals him, Vaard turns to his non-reptilian companions.
"I must thank you, outsiders, for aiding in the destruction of a force that has ravaged my tribe for ages. Cole, Tal'va'Nocht, Nalverren, Rehil, Wultram, I am indebted to you."
With formalities aside, Vaard joins his fellow lizardfolk in the dismemberment of Kalaktua's corpse.
Rehil stands on the bank. There's no need to make the leap. The elf wipes his blade clean and slides it into its sheath. He steps to the water's edge to help pull Cole and Ashshar onto dry land.
Rehil eats his fill and maintains a low profile throughout the feast. The night is still young when he slips away. He returns to the river's edge and watches the water drift by. A hour or so later, he returns unobtrusively.
"CEEEEEAAASSSEEE FIIIIIRRREEE!" Nalverren yells a moment after the death-screech of the turtle-god. Not that it would have been much more than a whisper on the fetid breeze of the jungle at the distance he was at. Though he rushed forward at a jaunty pace, it was several somber moments before he reached the rest of the group, nearly out of breath. Though he would liked to have believed the victory was due mostly to his plans, the un-sprung trap and hammer-wounds on the side of the beast's head tell him otherwise.
"Wow, everyone lived." he says, pleasantly surprised.
At an appropriate moment thereafter, he will assist in the scavenging for materials.
Nalverren thoroughly enjoys himself as much as anyone would if they hadn't expected to see the end of the day, to include temporal interracial consensual indecencies and dreams of treasure under the lake.
”I am indebted to you.”
Cole puts a massive, heavy hand on Vaard’s shoulder. “How many times would we have died without your aid over the last few weeks?” He gives a single nod, as if that’s all there is to say.
Cole (once again) becomes a moving playground for scores of lizardfolk young ones, lumbering around as they chirp and squeal and climb all over him. No one’s really sure if he’s pretending to be some kind of monster or actually trying to escape the little aggressors, but everyone seems happy that he’s keeping them occupied. At some point in the evening, he’s able to disengage, and he lumbers off towards the river.
He steps up to Rehil, the elf having heard him ka-THUNK-ing nearer for nearly a minute. He stops by the elf and, for the longest time, simply stands with the team’s scout. The big warforged seems comfortable in this companionable silence in a way he never is with groups of people.
Finally, without preamble, he speaks. “Marzien—the man who found me and took me in after the war—used to have a saying. ’You never know where your road will lead. And you never know what roads people had to walk to get there they are.’” He lapses into silence a few moments, considering the old man’s words. “When we met on Bokehn’s boat, I certainly didn’t realize we’d end up here.” His deep, rumbling voice drops, taking on a melancholy tone, “Well, those of us still functioning.”
He looks down at Rehil, the perfect, silver circles of his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “I am glad you are still functioning, Rehil.”
After a moment, his eyes return to the waters quietly sliding by.
Rehil doesn't seem to register the big warforged's approach, except to greet him with a single word. "Cole."
The elf stares silently at the river until Cole brings up roads and functioning. He waits for the big 'forged to finish.
"Will, Portforged, Otto, Eshsheth. Our road is of spilled blood and bones."
Rehil lapses into silence again. Out on the river two white egrets fight over some prize before one flies away in defeat and the other throws back his head to swallow in victory.
"In the jungle before Da'Sheth, I'd thought I'd go to Valenar when we were done. Now I wonder if I will get the chance. Or if I would be fit."
"What's in Valenar for you?"
Tal does not overly engage in the party, instead, he cleans his equipment and then meditates somewhere dry, probably in a borrowed hut. The water and moisture in the air he finds alien and uncomfortable. While his kind could live here, he himself was born and raised in a desert that may no longer exist, with people who certainly do not.
Tal does not feel like partying.
"I don't know. They are horse warriors. My own family are -- entertainers. I don't fit in well with them."
"And there would be women."
1 rank in perform(dance).
The following morning, Vaard, Ashshar and Nalverren emerge looking jaded but happy while the other just look jaded. The ashes in the firepit are cold, but the remains of Kalaktua's body - now mostly skeleton and chitin picked over by carrion birds - still loom over the village.
"We will build a shrine from her bones," says Pooma by the shore as the party prepare to leave on the boat, "Both to the victory of the River Serpent, and to the softskins who made it possible. It will be a reminder that the Cold Sun and the humans can live together and help one another."
The rest of the village have turned out to see the group off. Typically undemonstrative, they line the strand and stand in a respectful silence as the boat pulls away from the shore. The half-orc troops also treat the adventurers with a new deference, having witnessed their impressive feat of the previous day.
As the boat winds down the river towards the lake, Bokehn shouts over the roar of the air elemental, "Pooma's told me where the turtle's lair is - we should be there in about an hour. He also gave me some potions so you can breathe down there. Should be a cake walk now you dealt with her."
Tal shakes his head. "Has no one learned in all the thousands of years I was asleep? Never say a mission is easy, it ensures the gods notice and make your life interesting to ensure you do not become complacent."
"I disagree, anything large would have been eaten by her, unless it was larger than her. I would be more concerned about small fast predators that fed on her leftovers. Small faster predators can be more dangerous in large numbers than even she was."
Cole stands at the boat’s railing, next to Rehil, a statue watching the receding village and its occupants. As always, there’s none of the usual expressions you’d notice on a non-warforged, but something in the way he holds his armored body suggests conflict within. “I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t think their troubles are over, either.”
Then, without warning, he takes back up the conversation he’d left so awkwardly hanging the night before … as if the conversation with Rehil had never stopped. “I would think you could find women and fighting anywhere. And if we can’t find our place, we’ll make it.”
He stops to listen to the ongoing conversation between the strange newcomer, Nalverren,and Bokehn.
“The local threats are worrisome, but I’m just as concerned about the lair itself.” He looks to Bokehn. “My frame doesn’t float as well as your bodies. What potions did Pooma give us to get in and back out?”
"Yeah, good point," says Bokehn thoughtfully, "We only thought about breathing, not floating. Still, we can always haul you out with a rope - the lake isn't too deep, one of the lizardfolk can swim down with one once you finish down there."
Cole nods, "I can't think of anything better." He looks over at Nalverren, "You've been johnny on the spot with useful spells. You got anything to help us with underwater exploration?"
Tal looks at Cole. "Do you even need to breath? I thought mechanical men didn't need air?"
"I don't, but I was talking about moving and fighting functionally. I'm not exactly trained for aquatic engagements."
"If it consoles you, I was born and raised in a desert, and now find myself in a swamp."
Responding to Cole, Nalverren says, "Hmm, there are a lot of things I could probably whip up. Magic is made of everything in the world, so in turn everything is a little bit magic. Like a recipe. Take a spice out, the dish tastes differently. Add a different spice in its place, and you might have a new dish altogether. Although... perhaps this analogy is lost on you. If I took off some of your armor, and put other armor on you, you'd feel different and look different as well. Almost like another warforged."
Cole stands at the boat’s railing, next to Rehil, a statue watching the receding village and its occupants. As always, there’s none of the usual expressions you’d notice on a non-warforged, but something in the way he holds his armored body suggests conflict within. “I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t think their troubles are over, either.”
Then, without warning, he takes back up the conversation he’d left so awkwardly hanging the night before … as if the conversation with Rehil had never stopped. “I would think you could find women and fighting anywhere. And if we can’t find our place, we’ll make it.”
"No,Cole. I can't find women anywhere. "
Cole shrugs back at Rehil, "Tell me about it."
Tal unlimbers his shield, and bow and arrows, as well as his pack. All will be a detriment in the water.
He does take two spears. His four arms allow him to swim and attack at the same time.
Ashshar meditates for a moment before walking to Cole "Weaponss that.... basssh, like yourss Bane, are bad. Difficult to sswing, less force." the lizardfolk points to Skelly's curved blade "Ssslasshing issn't good either. Besst if you usse sssomething you can thrusst with. Like thiss." he says as he demonstrates a series of powerful but agile thrusts and stabs with his hunting spear. The lizardfolk smiles pleased by his demonstration.
"Anyway... we won't be able to ssee well, water is dirty and full of plantss. We sshould move fasst and sstraight to the Devourer'ss lair."