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Luke scans the pit prior to hearing the keening moan.
Shield Brother! There is a bone-handled item right there to your right. Pick it up before I pull ya out.
Luke grasps the rope, and prepares to pull the barbarian to safety.
His head turns at the keening moan.
Hurry, brother, we are under attack.
Ragnar mutters something indistinct below his breath, but does rescue the bone-guarded curio and skaggig from the pit before wrapping a length of the rope around an arm and beginning the climb...
Climb:
Disa braces herself as Luke and Ragnar work to get Ragnar out of the pit. She keeps her gaze pointed back toward the main passage as the wail echoes throughout the cave.
With assistance, a rot covered, battered, bitten and belligerent huscarl is pulled from the pit of decay.
Sitting in his belt is a jagged, rough hewn bone knife that seems too frail for combat. It does however appear to be razor sharp...
The knife is fashioned from the jagged bone of a humanoid infant. Its grip appears to be cured sinew from the same source. Its blade edge has the discolouration of blood...
Seeing the Whatever halted at the pit, Muli lobs another rodent.
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With a hurried glance, Disa does a double take at the bone handled blade. "That is heinous, Ragnar. That is crafted from the bone of an infant. That blade is discolored with what seems to be blood. I would guess you managed to find some kind of sacrificial tool. Not the good kind of sacrifice."
Ragnar looks at the knife before shrugging and tossing it Luke's way.
The creature, whatever it is, blanches and baulks at yet another combustible rodent bomb thrown nearby showering it in hot oil.
With a keening moan, the lank haired brute shields its eyes and utters an oath in its low voice;
"Arrrghhh! Əgər yanğın yüngül şəxs və siçovulların lənət!"
"Arrrgghh! Curse you light bringer and your rats of fire!"
Afore lumbering off back down the corridor at pace...
Stretching with a grunt and grimace, Ragnar plods back towards the others in the main corridor.
Luke puts the dagger in his pouch and follows on the heels of Ragnar with an arrow drawn on his bow.
Muli won't give immediate pursuit, but he will carefully work his way around the trap in the hall and then remind the others as they appear.
"Something with a dark tongue fled down here. Seems it didn't like Muli's friends." And here Muli give a stuffed pika a little pat on the head. "Mind the trap..."
Ragnar chuckles darkly, before stretching a weary arm and showing fresh spilled red blood upon him "Aye... traps..." leaden of foot and arm, he doesn't look keen or able to take point in the chase just yet.
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"Ouh. You look haggard. Muli has got the remedy." Muli pulls out what looks like a small dried salmon. He pours something out of a vial into the fish's mouth, pops in a cork and gives it a few rough shakes. Taking out the cork, he hand the fish to Ragnar, "Drink up, best in one gulp, before the taste sets in."
Ragnar sighs, but downs the fishy brew in a single grimaced gulp. As his bones begin to slowly knit back together he tosses the empty fish-vial back to Muli with a nod of acknowledged thanks.
Let me see what I have in here.
Frerin pulls out his crooked wooden wand of CLW and taps the brute.
Preceding her two companions back out of the side passage, Disa steps out to see scorch marks in the main tunnel and smell the burned flesh. As Muli moves back to help Ragnar, she steps up, carefully stepping over the tripwire to take point. Keeping her skold up, she maintains a defense against anything coming up from the deeper reaches.
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Muli looks at Frerin's healing stick and nods appreciatively, "Less old fish taste that way."
"But come this way. A man on fire curse Muli from back here." He points further down the main corridor.
Further down the corridor, the distant thump of footsteps and ragged breathing can still be heard, though they apparently end as quick as they began...
Your keen senses note that the mysterious assailant has either gone to ground or awaits your advance deeper in the nest... However scent of charred flesh that lingers in the air should make him easy to track.
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Let's get after him!
Luke draws another arrow to his bow.
Ragnar nods "Nei point waiting... let's after." stowing skaggig as he walks and putting shield to arm.
Without glancing back, Disa remarks, "There was the sound of footsteps and a ragged breath, but it has now stopped. Be prepared."
Disa begins moving steadily forward down the main tunnel keeping her shield up in a careful position.
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Muli's snout and facial hair twitch. "He has stopped running and waits for us...he gives off the smell of one burned....<chitter>"
Following the Raccmuli's keen nose your group advances deeper into the Puca lair. The narrow tunnel twists until it reaches an irregular chamber . From where you assemble it appears to be apparently unoccupied... but Muli's insistent chitterings suggest otherwise...
Your light reveals something of the room's interior...
The walls and ceilings are covered with lurid blue paint, over which childish drawings of battle scenes and strange words have been scrawled in chalk.
The language used is Aklo - the speech of otherworldly monsters and evil fey. The drawings and words all lie at child level suggesting that (if it is their handiwork) the Puca are not perhaps simply "Woad Goblins"...
There is a broken table lying on the floor, on top of which is a considerable quantity of what appears to be broken furniture.
... the air smells faintly of cooked meat and the sound of quickened breathing can be discerned from behind the considerable junk pile...
Luke peers into the cavern with an arrow ready to fire at any threat.
Can anyone make out the writings on the wall?
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Ragnar grimaces as he steps steadily forward "Bugger the wall... there's summat breathing in here..." holding his sword point down and forward.
At Ragnar's warning, Disa readies her skold for trouble.
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"That is him. It is no no-face dog, but a man of sorts that Muli burned."
From within the darkened chamber a guttural voice shouts out;
"Ægyltas ! Leáfa our hame now and I spare your lives... Utherwise my cnósl will dine on your mearg and wear your gesen like the scarves of the gypsies..."
Ragnar growls "Show your face and we can talk... otherwise there'll be blood."
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Disa snorts at her companion's words. "Less talk, more blod."
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Luke keeps his arrow trained on the source of the voice.
Show yerself, now!
The voice is at first silent to your threats and requests... the creature merely takes deep sniffs of the air before once again addressing you all in its guttural voice;
(sniff-sniff)..."Mmmm... Emberkin! Yes? I can swæc you! Come to Redec yes? Comme let me abyrgan you and your... (sniff-sniff) big rodent!"
The voice descends into squealing laughter...
Ragnar shrugs "Blood it is then..." bringing skaggig to bear and looking to stalk forwards.
"By all means, come taste the stiele and ácwudu of my skold."
Disa walks into the room ready to spellstrike whatever comes at her.
Luke stalks into the room behind the others and positions himself just inside the door for a clear shot at whatever has challenged the group.
As your group stalk deeper into the room, your noses are assailed by a sour tang mixed with the scent of charred flesh...
From behind the rubbish pile a form shifts and rises;
Tall and lean the creature before you was perhaps once a man, but now it appears little more than a bestial demon inhabiting such a form. Corded muscle and ritualized scarring cover its pale skin, squinting eyes narrow as it views you, as a tongue plays across a mouth cloven with a hare-lip and filled with filed teeth.
Tales of Iobaria tell of folk lost in the caves, deep under the mountains who sustained by becoming creatures of ravenous base needs; inbred cannibals preying on the weak, the lost and their own... The "Hinderlings" in Auld Iobarian lore...
A patchwork of leather armour offers rudimentary protection, whilst offering a crude compliment to multitude of joint bones and wrapped sinew that adorn the creature.
The brute sways, its hands apparently empty at present;
"Guests to Redec's hus... Yessss. Stay for supper mmmmmm? Bearncennicge always says ámæste our giestmægen ... make them séfte ..."
Luke, upon seeing the creature, carefully draws a MW Cold Iron arrow to his bow and fires into the thing.
I dinna' think we'll attend.
Disa
Ragnar
Muli
Frerin
Redec
Initiative: Luke; Muli; Disa; Redec; Frerin; Ragnar
Luke's arrow buries deep inside the feral man's gut, eliciting a screaming howl of pain;
"Neiiiiiiargghhhh! Pax! Peace!! Friþáþ !!!"
Muli raises another rodent to throw, "Why do you plague the village of Kustnir? Answer or feel the burn of another Muli rodent."
Ragnar holds skaggig at the ready, but does not take overt step towards the feral one. Adding to Muli's question "And what became of the puca?"
The creature sways and flinches as bow, axe, shield and rodent are threatened;
"No! No! Redec not plague Kustnir! Bearncennicge told us not yet... We listen... yessssss. We listen!"
The wretch waggles a necklace of small ears to emphasise his point.
"Puca? Hehhhhhh. We come knocking... kill some, eat some, rest run... yessssss... Where to you ask? Redec not say more... hold tongue.. hehhhhhhh...."
Sinewy fingers move to its skin belt, studded with shriven tongues, fingers clutching one, as nervous eyes squint at your company.
"Shhhhh."
Luke draws another cold iron tipped arrow.
Should I give it another taste, brothers?
Ragnar picks up on two words "Not yet? - who is Bearncennicge, and where?"
The lanky miscreant sways at Ragnar's question, then hisses an angry toned response;
"Bearncennicge birthed me... birthed us all Nordmann... Shhhhh! Where is she? Hunting the Puca... hunting where they nestle ... huntnoþ their cuma ...Shhhhhh! Sssssssaid too much! Big mouth Redec!!!"
The creature claps its long nailed fingers over its file toothed maw like a chatty child who has spoiled the birthday surprise...
Ragnar growls and spits a gobbet of phlegm to the side "Your b1tch may have birthed ye, but not all the men of the North." before tilting skaggig forward, turning to Luke and raising an eyebrow.
Luke pulls back the arrow, aiming at the face of the beast.
What cuma do ya speak of? How far in is the b&@%# that whelped ya?
Frerin stands back and takes in the conversation awaiting the answer.
The creature sways and convulses a little at the threats;
"Hungrig ... Redec sooooo hungrig... Eat then talk yessss?"
The cave dweller's long tongue brushes across his filed teeth and his eyes glitter in the half dark;
"Redec tell of cuma... of its magick... My Bearncennicge is no b!tch hunter! You wear the wulfs ring... it is you that is whelped heh-heh-heh..."
Redec hisses a laugh, then looks expectantly to you all once more;
"Æt ... then I tell... you will like my words... Máðmæht they are.. heh-heh-heh-heh..."
At a low ebb to his companions "Theres a dead grub in that fecking pit I fell into... I say we dump the bastard in there for his supper?"