Luke stands between the fallen Stencmaga and the prisoners with an arrow notched and covering the actions of his companions just in case they are not accepting of escape.
Ragnar looks down at the extended hand before raising his eyes to look upon the skald again without extending his own. Pushing on he asks "Any more alive?"
After an awkward moment Sagol lets his hand drop. Yes. The two cells next to mine there and there.
Kylar leaves off the silence when Sagol speaks. "To whom do we owe our rescue, if rescue this is?"
Furrowing his brow Ragnar answers "Already gave you my name, though we came here to kill puca... not rescue. No puca to be found, so we gutted the cannibal and his hund instead." standing back slightly and not showing overt aggression - allowing those that were captive within the cells to make their own way out.
Well, the deed is done, and our fates are bound. There is more evil to be slain in this abyss, and glory still to be won.
Sagol walls out of his cell with his head held high in spite of numerous bruises and cuts that cover him. The bone club in his hand taps a subtle rhythm against his thigh.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Kylar drops the pitiful bone shard. It would have been less than useless against the armed and armored group before him. When he stands, he feels his bones and muscles ache with the strain. What little fat he'd ever had on him had melted away, leaving him bony in some places and taut in others.
"Sagol is optimistic," he says as he exits the cell. He looks about, but cannot immediately see where his pilfered belongings might have been stowed. How he hungered to study his spells again! Hopefully the tome would be undamaged - if it had not simply been used for firewood, or the pages torn out to wipe some cannibal's ass.
"Though my fate could use binding to folk who've been having better luck of late. I am called Kylar."
How could you not be Optimistic, friend Kylar? In times like this, great songs are begun! He claps the skinny wizard on the back with a great, calloused hand.
Seeing the rescued prisoners as no threat in the presence of Ragnar, Luke steps forward and lowers his bow. In his normal brooding manner, he says lowly.
I am Luke Falgren, Warden of Berghof. We seek to rid this lair of Puca. If you care to aid us, then arm yerself and do so.
Luke begins to search the immediate vicinity for the clothes and equipment of the prisoners.
Let's find yer stuff. You did have clothes and maybe weapons, right?
Aye, though mine is an instrument of creation and destruction. It is a club of formidable size, hard to miss.
We seek to rid this lair of Puca. If you care to aid us, then arm yerself and do so.
Kylar nods. "We shared your goal when we were captured. I gladly take it up again. If... if any of you have food, or knowledge of medicine, I believe that all of us here are in need of both."
This said, the wizard joins in the search for his belongings.
Putting skaggig back across his shoulders and stretching his neck to audible cricks Ragnar takes watch as the others search for gear. He adds "Puca probably dead or gone... maybe more of these cannibal bastards to kill though."
Searching past the carcasses and around the morass of muck, bones and refuse that Stencmaga once called its kennel nets little results... most likely equipment and weaponry taken from any prisoners will be housed elsewhere in the stolen nest.
(This is where you first encountered Redec the Hinderling)
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.
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 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"...
Arranged around this room are items which one would associate with training for combat and torture. By one wall sits a broken and blood-stained manikin. A rotten skull with long spikes hammered into it hangs by a chain from the ceiling. There are several thigh bones of varying thickness in a rack and a large barrel upon which sits several lengths of coiled rope... both the barrel and rope and slimey with congealed blood.
Nearby on a bench against another wall are some bottles, sacks and crudely fashioned crossbow bolts. Under this bench is a battered straw target...
You examine the broken manikin and find a gruesome discovery - the manikin has been made from the corpse of a humanoid - crudely mummified in lime crusted bandages.
Based on your expert eye this corpse is long time dead so it was either a fixture of the nest previously or was brought here...
You recognise the skull that hangs is of a small sized humanoid, most likely a Puca
In each of the sacks, you find the gear of the larder prisoners. In all cases the equipment is undamaged, but has been handled as the greasy, grim hand prints attest
3 flasks of Alchemical Oil
The rancid barrel holds lengths of sinew, feathers, lengths of blodpine wood and other sundry items that could be utilised to make bolts or arrows.
A passage leading from the one which you have been following is completely blocked by a jumble of rocks, casks, sacks and other items. As you approach, the barricade of refuse the strong stench of rotting flesh assails you...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Sagol follows the new people when they move out. Without his gear he is much less useful at the front line. Thankfully, no one is in the next room.
He turns his nose up at the filth of the place. He had seen such before, of course, but the fact that these beasts lived like this never stopped being repulsive to him.
In searching the room, he finds several sacks and opens them.
Here, friend captives, our gear!
For himself, he pulls out a sturdy suit of breast plate engraved with a heroic image of the legendary bard Beedle and his victory against Old Man Winter.
Next he removes a sling, his pack, then, lastly, a huge Greatclub with intricate carvings of many heroes doing deeds of legend. He handles the heavy looking weapon easily. Hello, old friend. I hope they didn't mistreat you.
He dons his armor, then takes up his club and strikes its top upon the ground. Hollow resonance chambers carved into its core humm with a deep thunder like a wide drum in response.
The Sound of Ancients is with us, friends. Let us have our revenge upon these that would dare take us captive!
Perception:
Knowledge (Nature):
Ragnar watches as the fresh meat regathers their weaponry and sees themselves returned to arms. The remainder of the once was puca's lair serves to give little more inspiration except for the barricade of rotten flesh. To the others he muses "Have you the strength to fight?"
Aye, but one moment.
Sagol goes to each of the prisoners and whispers a chant over them. Whispers from thin air respond, and a few of their wounds are relieved.
Once that is done, he turns back to Ragnar and says, Ready
Kylar surveys the putrid surroundings, noting what seems like a Puca skull transfixed by spikes. Odd.
His investigations are interrupted as Sagol locates their equipment. the wizard is grateful to put the rest of his clothing back on and hold his spellbook - poorly handled though unharmed - once again. He also slips his precious ring back on his finger sigh a relieved sigh. Some modicum of his old power restored to him would serve until he could rest.
At Ragnar's question, he nods. "We were taken by deceit, and I took care to keep my spells fresh in my mind."
He nods his thanks to Sagol as the man's healing magic shudders through him, restoring much of the vigor to his abused body.
You do indeed my friend. Likely you'd been keeping them memorised and readied, should your time for the pot have come... a last stand if you will...
Should you wish to share any of your observations on the rest of the Hinderling family - you can tell Ragnar and Luke of the following:
The Hinderlings:
There are... were four of these misbegotten cave dwelling cannibals...
Redec (slain by Ragnar) was the youngest and the runt of the litter. He tended the trow-hund, and was most oft charged with feeding the prisoners a foul porridge and keeping guard of the lair
Fin'nok is the next oldest, and the largest. A massive, foul tempered brute who tormented his brothers and would exhibit sundering rages in the aftermath of any poisonings or slights.
Pakrit was the second eldest and gave the impression of being the most competant at arms. The only one of the brood to wear armour of iron. He was barely seen by the captives save for when he would question them on their weapons and equipment.
Det'ruk was the most sinister, eldest of the brood his brothers typically gave him a wide berth unless Fin'nok was feeling brave. Typically Det'ruk would placate his brother through the use of poisons - and you all suspect it was this Hinderling who administered the poisons used subjugate your company. You have all witnessed what appeared to be Det'ruk suddenly becoming visible at the makeshift bars of your cells. All the while wearing his slit mouth smile...
Bearncennicge ("Mother" in Auld Iobarian) - The woman who leads these cannibals has black, frostbitten skin, white hair, and carries a black ice staff decorated with bones and gems. Small and frail in comparison to her brutal "sons" this crone is cruelly arrogant, intelligent and has an insatiable hunger for flesh and bone. Having studied her actions and bearing you believe her very likely to be a hag of some description, and as such likely a being who wields fell powers...
You have good cause to believe the Hinderling "Mother" may be a fell winter hag.
These sadistic crones haunt winter-blasted plains and rime-covered forests. Exceptionally arrogant, they oft use their magic to subjugate entire tribes of evil humanoids so they can rule over them as queen of a fashion. These arrangements rarely last more than a few seasons, because no creature is truly safe from a winter hag's irrepressible appetite for warm, raw flesh. An ambitious winter hag might extort a village by causing constant snowfall until they give her children to eat or adults to become her slaves...
Like all hags they possess innate spell abilities, granting them powers both deceptive and devastating
They carry potent staves of black ice, possess an kald breath and can move across ice and snow with ease. Their crystalline pupils grant them vision in all climes and can even see things invisible to normal mortals. Yet like many cold hearted creatures - they fear fire and the damage it can wrought upon them...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
We need to track this winter hag down afore she makes more trouble Fer the kind folk of my home.
As everyone gets their gear ready, Sagol gives the short and sweet of the owners of this filth pit (spoilered above). Of all of them, the mother worries him the worst. Anything that commands through that much fear deserves to be dispatched with extreme prejudice.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Grimacing Ragnar intones "Best to hack the knees apart before going for the head... any idea where the other cannibal bastards lay their head in this place?"
Unfortunately, no. We're going to have to take this place apart room by room. Not that I mind.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Nodding, Ragnar pauses and has a thought. Going back to Redec's severed head he lifts it and tucks the beast's hair into his belt-loop, leaving it swinging from his belt like a macabre trophy. If queried he reasons "Black b1tch thinks the cannibal bastards are her sons... could be we'll get her pissed off enough to not fight well if we turn their heads into a nithing pole."
With Knowledge (Nature) checks like yours, feel free to look over the Winter Hag stat profile on the SRD. Nothing there should take you by surprise - just make sure you mix up your crunch knowledge into fable/lore flavor :)
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Kylar's lips purse as he ponders what he knows of hags. "She possesses powerful magic. Innate. And earthly weapons do not bite her as they should... some connection to the Fey, perhaps. She is a creature of the ice and snow - any fire we can create or conjure will serve us well against her."
If we find her in this lair, there is a good chance she may overcome us all.
Sagol approaches the barrier and wrinkles his nose. What on earth what that smell?
Afore moving toward the living chamber Ragnar initially mulls destroying the rot-stench emitting barricade of debris ... however Sagol stays the big Northman's hand and axe...
Your keen eyes notice that the barrier of debris has been built of rubbish, refuse plugged with a number of rotten carcass parts (of apparently different origins). However far more concerning is the numerous foul grubs that crawl and writhe amidst the fetid barrier that you recognise as dangerous rotian-maða ...
Rotian-maða, rot grubs. He points out the foul parasites.
One touch and they'll start eating you.
Fire is the key to her defeat, and she may easily hide her passing, even to my tracking abilities, but we will try.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
With a grimace of distaste and muscle memory from his own encounters with rot grubs Ragnar growls "Put it to fire..."
Not for the first time, Kylar wishes he had made a study of the more aggressive magics. It would have been rather satisfying to bathe the disgusting little maggots in flames of his own making.
Muli nods enthusiastically and grins through his wild beard of tangled whiskers;
"Yes-yes. Muli knows the little Rotian-maða... Will byrn them well...
The wild man alchemist rummages through his massive pack and picks out a couple of stuffed hedgehogs, curled up as if sleeping... He gives both a little shake then gently rolls them toward the barricade of refuse and rotten muck.
"Well fired rolls for grub's breakfast! Best we all stand back!"
As he scoots round the corner to apparent safety as the two hedgrenades wobble slowly toward their target, a gently hissing emitting from them as they go..
Sagol takes a few steps back just because the odd man was. The look on his face says he's not sure about the reality of what just happened.
Ragnar stands outside of the line of fire, but does not see any need to cower. He keeps a ready grip on skaggig... as the tumult of noise to follow will likely draw some kind of interest...
Kylar takes cover around a corner, not willing to trust the safety of hedgehog alchemy. "And yet, perhaps I should make a study of such things."
"Ah-ah-chu!" Someone sneezes behind where the others are taking cover. The someone, a young woman with white hair and pointed ears drooped like a wolf's that is scared. The only piece of clothing that she seems to be wearing is a too-large woolen shirt that hangs loosely off of her shivering shoulders.
She speaks in a language that is definitely not locally known. Her voice is quiet and quivering as she forces the words out through chattering teeth.
Sagol waves her behind cover. It would not do to lose someone to friendly fire so early after their release.
Sesi does as told, well motioned to do, and gets back, finding the closest warm body she can and getting close, as much for warmth as for protection.
While Muli's critter bombs burn the fetid blockage in the corridor the rest of you investigate the central chamber to the Auld Puca Nest
In comparison to the other chambers in the run down and fetid lair of the Puca, it seems this area has been kept relatively clean and tidy. Small piles of bone and refuse act sit at the entrance and inside lies 5 hollowed chambers surrounding a central firepit, upon which sits a scum encrusted cooking pot.
4 of the alcoved chambers appear to be identical in nature, save for varying degrees of mess and “decoration”. All are large enough for big men such as Ragnar or Ságol to lie relatively comfortably, and all contain a fur pile, small table and bucket. The fifth hollow is the only one with a patchwork skin curtain hiding it from the rest of the room...
It is clear that these alcoves have been added recently, although curiously it seems they were excavated by the small hands of infant sized creatures.
The pile of furs are mangey and likely lice ridden, nothing strikes you of value here. Upon the tables sit a variety of bones, grime and grisly trophies (eyes in jars, stacks of fingernails, various teeth etc) - all macabre, and all mundane in nature. Each of the buckets stink of nightsoil and are best left alone…
The northern most alcove has rigged been up a patchwork hide curtain across it granting a degree of privacy. Inside the alcove there is a simple bed, a small table with a mirror fixed to the wall above it, a padded stool and a chest. Sitting on the table are several pots of cosmetics, a bone quill and ink bottle. Beside the writing implements a several sheets of parchment sit… one of which has been written upon.
The sturdy wooden chest is locked.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Sagol moves about the room with care to touch nothing unless absolutely necessary. He could practically feel the disease in this place.
These alcoves are a recent addition, and the beasts didn't dig them. Small hands did this. Infant hands.
Sagol spots beads of a viscous liquid on the table of the eastern alcove. What could this be?
The Erutaki shivers as she follows along, finding Snow-Paw would have to wait. She needed to find the rest of her clothes before she froze to death.
"Un-unnatural. Everything in this place seems so," she responds to Sagol's question. She moves to the curtained alcove, her voice quiet, "People, thinking, feeling, slain. Slaughtered and devoured like animals. It is not right. It is not right."
Trembling hands gingerly move the curtain back. She doesn't recognize the pots for what they are, nor the quill and ink, but she does recognize the chest.
"Most curious to see the trappings of 'civilized' people in a den of sadistic barbarism."
Sesi looks at the chest closely, wary of any fell magic that may be upon it.
Luke examines the alcoves and central area, each in turn, saving the curtained one for last.
Sesi, be careful with that chest. Make sure it is not trapped.
"Most strange that stranger knows my name," Sesi mutters in a listless sing-song voice.