Doran jerkss his dagger free of the incutilis' hard shell as it falls into the water, then runs his eyes over his friends, to be sure no one has been injured in the fight. "Nasty things, just nasty. I thought I'd seen the evils of slavery, but this takes it to a whole new level. But we fought well. Is everyone okay?"
Looking ahead along the tunnel to where the decayed corpses shambled out, he continues, "Looks like that's the way to go, and where the shell-heads seem to be. I'm not over-hopeful about our crewmates still bein' our crewmates when we get to 'em. I sure don't want to have to fight what's left of 'em if the shells have taken 'em over."
He pauses a moment, as if startled by a thought, then says, "Hey, I just noticed - the shells and the Chells, they're all heartless, slaving bastards!" Again, he pauses, realizing what he's said, and gives Aaron an awkward look. Unable to bring himself to apologize, Doran just mutters, "Right, let's see what's down the tunnel," and sloshes through the shallow water in that direction.
Taking a moment to wash the creatures' ichor off of his swords, Aaron looks at the corpses of his former crewmates, his expression seemingly calm, even cold one might say. "I think that one's name was Smitt," he muses, thinking aloud more than anything else. "Or Smith... or... Schmid? Eh," he finally shrugs, giving up. "Whatever his name was, being dead and having tentacles in his skull did not much improve his coordination. Terrible dancer that one... and a lousy swordsman as well." He sighs. "Granted, no swords at this particular moment, but... well... fistsman just does not have the same ring to it...," he mutters as an afterthought.
And then his attention turns to Doran's quip. Once again he leans his head to the side, as if examining the halfling, as if trying to determine whether he should be offended of amused. And then he decides on the latter. "Heh. Heh heh heh...," he again chuckles softly, like when they met earlier, and adds, "Not only that, but they rhyme too." And then, just like that, the mirth is gone and his expression turns serious once again. "Cheliax has seen better days, you know. It was not always full of... heartless, slaving bastards. At least not that many and not the devil-worshipping kind..."
Ollivor shrugs, "If I could live in the past, I think I'd pick a nicer time than this...but we can't. Cheliax IS full of heartless slaving and devil worshiping bastards now. Unless that changes in my life, I'd be a fool not to bear that in mind. And Doran's got more right to be cautious than others. I've heard how most treat halflings in that land, worse even than their human slaves. They aren't even considered people. Which makes my stomach lurch to think of. So you can't expect him to think you're much better just from looking at you..." Ollivor takes a deep breath, "But if it's any comfort, I ain't blind to how you've been helping us...Aaron." he adds the first name almost as an after thought, "You fight well, and you want to help. Maybe mostly just to get off this rock, but whats to blame in that? You saying you're an old fashioned type of Cheliaxian when it was worth something more than wiping a devil's ass? Well... if you think our opinions are worth while, keep showing us with actions like how you've fought..help us take down the slaving bastard officers on our ship...and hell man, I'll even thank you. We aren't TOTAL savages in Andoran, aye?" He smirks at the last, but there's sincerity in his tone. Man's got a right to make something better of himself, to stand out instead of being told he's one of a mob with no choice. Ain't that what Andoran's about?
As the tide continues to rise - with the crew now inside the caves for half an hour, the narrowest of the cave tunnels are likely submerged - the seven sailors press onward with the smashed incutilis shells left behind. The tunnel continues its slow curve to the left, slowly revealed by the light of John's axe. They listen for echoes of movement, but all they can hear our their own splashes and the dripping from the cave walls. Cautiously but determined, the party of captured and marooned sailors pushes through the watery tunnel before they emerge into a massive cavern.
The cavern flares out above them, shadowed in darkness unpierced by Ollivor's magic. A shimmer of glinting lights reflects back off the walls and ceiling of the cavern. John holds the light up to get a closer look at the cavern walls near the tunnel that they emerged from. They can see dozens of incutilis shells seemingly growing on the surfaces of the cave. As he moves his arm, the glinting reveals the hint of hundreds - perhaps even thousands - more on every surface of the vast cavern that they are standing in. As the water laps at their knees, the seven of them turn to look deeper in the cavern.
Two familiar figures stand motionless at the edge of the light. Their eerie stillness is unnerving, prompting the group to spread out as they approach with their weapons drawn. As the light draws closer, Crimson Cogward and Sandara Quinn simply stare at them with blank expressions. The group stops a good distance from the silent and unmoving pair. Behind them, John's light reveals a darker color to the water - suggesting that they stand at the edge of a much deeper hole in the cave floor. To the relief of the rescuers, neither of the two have a rider atop their head and both are clearly alive.
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Drip... drip... drip
The combat with the Vudu since past, John led the group through winding tunnels that curved and snaked through the waterlogged stone. Water dripped from the cave walls, dropping down into the water and accompanying the sound of muted splashes as John's friends followed behind him. As the water continued to rise, John had to occasionally stop to allow the shortest members of the group, Vrunyar and Doran to catch up. The ever changing depth of the water seemed to be hardest on them, though John had not heard a complaint out of either of them. They were good men, John thought. Strong and solid in their own, differing ways, but good men regardless.
During one such pause, John thought back to the recent combat that he had shared with Aaron. In less than a day, John had fought not once, but twice next to Aaron. In the first fight against the merfolk, John had brought down one of the warriors before it had been able to take down Aaron and in the second fight, Aaron had severed the tentacles of the Vudu before they had been able to enwrap John's head. Frowning slightly, John glanced back at Aaron. The way the man talked, about two different Cheliax's made John wonder. It seemed odd to the burly marine. It was like something that one of John's elders might have said, talking about a time long past. It just seemed... strange. John still didn't trust the man, but John was sure of one thing.. Aaron Ivey was an odd one.
Having allowed for everyone to catch back up, John raised his axe to light the groups way and waded forward through the watery tunnel before stopping short as the group emerged into a massive cavern.
Drip... drip... drip
The walls shimmered, as if wet from the ever present sounds of dripping, and the roof disappeared into the darkness. Peering at the edges of the shimmering walls, John's eyes flared open in shock. The walls.. the walls are covered in those incutilis's! Gods... John thought, feeling a shiver run down his spine. He craned his neck to the left and right, looking at the walls. The shells were everywhere. It's like something out of a nightmare. John muttered to himself, his knuckles tightening on the haft of his axe. Swinging the axe around, to illuminate more of the chamber, John stops as the light catches the shape of two figures, Crimson and Sandra. They stood motionless and silent. They were alive, but something seemed terribly, terribly wrong.
Glancing to his left and right at the other members of the group that have spread about among the chamber, John opens his mouth. He wants to speak, he wants to say something, but he knows that something's not right. Gritting his teeth, John slowly eases the trident with its seaweed strap off of his back and grips it in his free hand. He peers into the deepest part of the water, feeling like he has just walked into a trap.
Back in the caves, Wyn had pounded at the depraved mollusk well after it was dead, letting out a fair bit of steam along with ensuring its demise. Afterward, she felt calmer, however slightly--and was still apprehensive of course about what lay ahead. But she found little in her to contribute to the conversation about Cheliax afterward. Faint glimpses in her mind, as if from a past life, of ordinary Cheliaxan sailors singing and drinking in the Muddled Fish were overshadowed by memories of the lash and long grueling days at the oar, a jumble of thoughts and feelings she had no time nor inner resources to prise apart. Aaron wasn't trying to kill them, so she'd return the favor. That was as far as she could reason at the moment.
Reaching the incutilis chamber, Wyn gasps. While glad to see they were not being puppets to the creatures, Crimson and Quinn were still enthralled by something. Seeing the room full of the squid-beasts, she could not imagine why they hadn't been killed and "ridden," or how they themselves could avoid such a fate if they went in after them. All she wanted was to somehow run in, tuck their crewmates under her arms, and flee, an unlikely prospect for a number of sensible reasons.
She examines Crimson and Quinn to gain any understanding of what might be affecting them, as well as the nature of the terrain where they stand.
"Ye gods..." Doran says in an awed whisper as he sees the seemingly endless ranks of incultis on the walls of the cavern. As he scans the chamber fearfully, he also sees Crimson and Quinn standing stock-still, as if frozen, but blessedly free of shell-head riders.
The two seem to be staring at Doran and the others, but it's not clear that they see anything with those blank eyes. Doran waves a hand back and forth, to try to see if there's any reaction from them, while also looking about the chamber and into the water, in case there's a reaction from the incultis.
Before leaving the merfolk corpses, Vrunyar inspects the hands closely. ”Imagine a pair of gloves with webbing like this. Swimming would be so much easier.” He glances at the others and gives a uncomfortable cough. ”If we return this way, you wouldn’t mind if I took a moment to take a specimen would you?” he mimes chopping a merfolk’s hand off at the wrist. ”I do find anatomy fascinating, you know.”
------
After the fight with the incutilis he nods to Doran in appreciation. ”Good team-work, Doran. Thanks.” Standing where he is, the dwarf gives a quick check of each person in the group to see if there are any terrible wounds but doesn’t see any.
”I’m sure Chellaxians are used to being nearly universally disliked wherever they go in the Inner Sea and points farther afield. As I’m sure you realize Ivay, your actions now speak louder than any placating words. We’ll have enough time to discuss cultural practices when we’re not slogging through water and trying to rescue crew members.”
——
Seeing Crimson and Sandara standing with the blank looks on their faces continues the despair Vrunyar felt when entering this chamber and realizing the walls were covered by shells. He swallows and licks his lips, fighting the dryness claiming his mouth. His hands hold his battle axe, across his chest, ready to chop down a monster attacking him. He peers into the dark water.
The eerie quiet settles over the group as the pair that they came to rescue simply stand and watch them passively. They seem to see Doran waving, but there is no reaction from either of them beyond looking at their rescuers. The water at their knees - and the waists of Vrunyar and Doran - but the dark area behind Crimson and Sandara doesn't ripple any more than any other area of the water. Unsure of what to do and unnerved by the stifling silence, the sailors simply wait with their weapons out. Doran and Vrunyar both get excellent looks at the pair, but nothing seems immediately apparent as the cause of their passivity.
Crimson breaks the silence with a question. "Why have you come here?" The words echo through the cavern between the water and the walls, amplifying the question many times over. His voice seems entirely different: deeper and crisp on the words like he is merely pronouncing them without understanding them.
Two familiar figures stand motionless at the edge of the light. Their eerie stillness is unnerving, prompting the group to spread out as they approach with their weapons drawn. As the light draws closer, Crimson Cogward and Sandara Quinn simply stare at them with blank expressions. The group stops a good distance from the silent and unmoving pair. Behind them, John's light reveals a darker color to the water - suggesting that they stand at the edge of a much deeper hole in the cave floor. To the relief of the rescuers, neither of the two have a rider atop their head and both are clearly alive.
Ollivor was tired, and relieved and ..was waiting for someone else to talk only to realize they were likely the same.
The eerie quiet settles over the group as the pair that they came to rescue simply stand and watch them passively. They seem to see Doran waving, but there is no reaction from either of them beyond looking at their rescuers. The water at their knees - and the waists of Vrunyar and Doran - but the dark area behind Crimson and Sandara doesn't ripple any more than any other area of the water. Unsure of what to do and unnerved by the stifling silence, the sailors simply wait with their weapons out. Doran and Vrunyar both get excellent looks at the pair, but nothing seems immediately apparent as the cause of their passivity.
Crimson breaks the silence with a question. "Why have you come here?" The words echo through the cavern between the water and the walls, amplifying the question many times over. His voice seems entirely different: deeper and crisp on the words like he is merely pronouncing them without understanding them.
"Why have we come? To rescue you, o course," Ollivor states, "Though we may yet have trouble... Plug's up to no good and that won't bode well on our return. Something the matter?" For a second, he wonders if they're shocked themselves, or bespelled.
Thorn pops his head out from under the water and quickly toss the dead sailors body off of his own. Quickly regaining his footing Thorn could see Wyn was smashing the incutilis aginst the rock wall. Observing Wyn had control of the situation, Thorn began to remove his arrows from the dead sailors body. Placing the arrows back into his quiver he walked over to what was left of the incutilis after Wyn was finished with it. "Thank you Wyn, I dont think I would would look so good wearing one of those for a helm."
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Once Thorn entered the large open area of the cavern the light radiating from John's boarding ax was casting off plenty of light to allow Thorn to see all of the incutilis shells covering the walls and reflecting the low light onto their prize. The two missing sailor were standing in the center of the cavern with blank stares as Doran attempted to gain their attention. "Something is not right with those two, I do not know what it is but they are different. Lets grab them and get out of here!" Thorn began to slowly circle to the right side of the men gaining a flanking position not trusting them. Thorn also began to scan the rest of the cavern for any threats or treasures while he also examined the walls a little more closely but with just enough distance to react in case one of the incutilis shells awakens.
----
Thorn pops his head out from under the water and quickly toss the dead sailors body off of his own. Quickly regaining his footing Thorn could see Wyn was smashing the incutilis aginst the rock wall. Observing Wyn had control of the situation, Thorn began to remove his arrows from the dead sailors body. Placing the arrows back into his quiver he walked over to what was left of the incutilis after Wyn was finished with it. "Thank you Wyn, I dont think I would would look so good wearing one of those for a helm."
"No problem. That's a fashion trend better prevented, aye?"
-----In the cave, as Crimson speaks inhumanly... it almost seems as if he is being puppetted, even though he has no "rider." She looks around, replying to him but also letting her voice carry to the creatures surrounding them.
"We just want to take our two friends and go, fix our ship and leave. No one else has to die today."
"Rescue? We don't need to be rescued. We are free," Sandara intones. Like Crimson, her voice seems alien. The echoes of the cave make it seem like a hundred voices are joining hers. "We will free you as well. Don't you wish to be free? Let go of your burdens, and join us."
It's clear from their words and actions that they have been enchanted. Ollivor probes the spell that clouds their minds, finding that it is entirely dominating their wills. Whoever (or whatever) cast the spells has a great deal of power; he has heard of the power to steal a man's mind before, but the only people that he has met remotely capable of casting such a spell were Captain Jonas and Admiral Endymion.
"The makaru welcome you," Crimson continues. "We have been given purpose and freedom from fear, as will you be. Resistance is futile."
"Oh #$#$ that!" Ollivor snorts with anger, "I've been enslaved by Chelish devil summoner, a damn pirate, and I'm not happy about those so I'm not about to join you two in whatever charm shackles this magic has put you in without a fight! Snap out of it already, stop kissing the ass of this Makaru whatever it is! You're a priest, Quinn, you should be serving your god!"
"We fought at first," Sandara offers. It isn't clear if she is speaking for both her and Crimson, or if she is simply speaking in the plural. "But it seems so futile now. We don't know why we fought so hard. We have purpose. We have evolved beyond petty gods and the limitations of our previous form." She points to the incutilis shells to show what she is speaking about.
Wyn looks at her companions, horrified, and says quietly, "It's like their heart and soul were eaten out of them. You think there's anything left to save?"
"I don't know, Wyn," responds Doran in a quiet tone, "but if I were in their place, I'd want someone to try to save me. Whatever they're being made to say, that is not freedom. They're even worse than slaves, it seems, they're puppets."
He calls out to their crewmates, "Why don't you come over here, tell us about your freedom?"
"We offer you a chance to evolve," echoes the voice of Crimson through the cavern. He ignores Doran's plea to come closer. "Who among you wishes to join us?"
Ollivor answers, "Give us a moment to think about it. Change can be scary..."
Then he whispers to the others, "Do you think destroying those other things will do us any good, or should we just knock those two out and make a run for it with them?
"I say we grab them both and run Olli, we can knock some since back into them once we are off this island." Thorn continues to circle behind the two brained washed sailors and observes a patch of water near the two that looks very suspicious and unnatural. Thorn closes the distance to the dark water to get a better look. "Whats this dark patch of water behind them."
"Destroying them might do good, Olli, but I don't see how to do it. I think you and Thorn are right--grab'em and run. Anyone got any rope? We could lasso'em and pull.
Louder to the two brainwashed crewmembers Wyn rebuffs, "I don't see how you're 'evolved' at all. Quinn was a cold-hearted wench and she's still acting like one now--no change at all there. And Crim, you're just talking different. That don't prove anything. You're gonna have to come over here and show us how special you are if you want to convince us you've changed for the better."
"Closest thing we've had to a decent rope is those damn vines I tied together to get down into the cove," responds Doran. "I'm afraid if we're to get 'em out of there, we'll have to get close and grab them."
He pauses and considers a moment, then says, "I hate to think of hurting our own crewmates, but I wonder if we'd snap 'em out of it if we hit 'em with something? I could try to knock one on the head with a slingstone, see what happens?"
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They've been brainwashed! John hissed quietly to the others. I don't know what did it, but sometimes the slaves that we would save aboard the Eagle would act all funny like this. Try to fight for their "masters". Alot of them were addled on drugs too, but I don't think this is the same thing. From what I heard that takes much longer. I don't want to hurt Sandra or Crimson, but knocking them unconscious is the only thing I can think of to save them.
Looking up from his hushed conversation, John looks at the deadpanned faces of Sandra and Crimson his face stern and unyielding. I know i'm not talking to Sandra or Crimson. I saved Crimson's life and Sandra watched over my friend as I buried him. I know both of them, and I know they wouldn't give up on their freedom. You can't be free without freedom to choose. So whatever you are, I will give you a chance to make a choice.
Thorn doubles around to get a closer look at the deep, dark water as the group tries to find a way to get past the brainwashing of the pair they came to rescue. Wyn and Doran try trickery and cajoling, while John tries to directly threaten the makaru - but to no effect. The stolen pair speak as if they are part of a hive mind, and the alien psychology is impossible to truly understand.
A dozen feet away from Crimson, Thorn tries to peer down into the darkness. He sees a dark shape under the water rushing towards him, and he turns with his extraordinary reflexes to warn the others. A massive creature bursts out of the dark water in a spray. Each of them can hear its alien thoughts pulsing against their mind, but it 'speaks' in a chthonic language impossible to pronounce with a human tongue. Its appearance is truly monstrous: a mass of tentacles and feelers precede its body, whipping and writhing in every direction; four huge tentacles sway, separate from the others from its rubbery body; its massive pulsing head has a half-dozen black eyes at irregular intervals, while two gnashing maws on its underside snap open and shut in total disunion. The nightmarish octopus pulls itself into the shallower water, pummeling them mentally with its cry.
A makaru whips forward with one of its tentacles at the closest target, slamming into Thorn. As quick as he is, the tentacles strikes him hard and wraps itself around his body. As the rubbery tentacles grasp at the elf, he can feel the mental assault grow tenfold. While its sticky suckers pull across his body, the makaru's 'voice' fills Thorn's heads with commands to kill his party members. He tries to resist, but he can feel the bow coming up. The makaru pulls its tentacle away from Thorn as the mental compulsion starts to take hold.
Doran reels in horror as the massive, tentacled monstrosity bursts from the water and grabs Thorn with one of its many writhing arms. Instinct taking over, he scans in all directions, looking for the best position from which to fight this thing, or at least die more slowly.
"Dammit!" cries Doran. "If it weren't for Thorn, I'd say we back out of here and fight the thing from the passage, I don't think it could get at us as easily there. But we can't leave Thorn behind."
He gives his small shoulders a fatalistic shrug and moves forward, a knife in each hand, saying as he does so, "I'm going to try to get behind it, keep it busy, see if you can't get in close so it's distracted."
"Thorn!" Wyn calls out. The elf's recklessness was an endless source of exasperation to her, but they'd had each other's backs in many a fight and she couldn't let him go undefended. Drawing her scimitar, she moves as carefully as she can to get close to Thorn without--yet--provoking the monster's, or her brainwashed comrades, retaliation.
She yells to Thorn in Skald:
Crimson seems to hesitate for the briefest of moments as he receives the telepathic command to attack. His meager will collapses immediately, and he steps forward in the splashing water to bring Wynifrid into his reach. Crimson still sports the scars that he received from being keelhauled, but he has always been a scrappy fighter. He may not have a weapon, but that's never stopped him before in the many bar fights he was in before having his mind overtaken. He jabs at Wynifrid, but it is an easy dodge for her. Unfortunately, it was too easy, and Crimson brings a knee up to strike her hard in the side. She feels a rib on her left side crack, but she has more than enough strength to fight him off.
Sandara shimmers as she summons an illusory double of herself. Apparently being brainwashed as part of a hive mind does not sever a cleric's connection to their god. She points at Ollivor, pressing at the edges of his mind alongside the makaru. He can feel horrible dread creeping into the pit of his stomach with nagging self-doubt.
”Thorn! Vrunyar calls out as the elf is grabbed. As people start springing into action, Vrunyar thinks about charging Crimson. If they could wrestle her and Sandara out of the fight, that would help the others fight the monster. Of course if the makaru is killed his two crew members should hopefully return to normal. With tendrils like those, this is a great opportunity for using his crossbow.
”Wyn, call out if you want help with her,” the dwarf says swinging his crossbow from his shoulder. He has it loaded and cocked in a matter of seconds. Water splashes with each step as he hurries closer to the makaru to get a better shot. Once Doran is in position, maybe they’ll have a chance to coordinate their attacks.
Assessing the creature's threat and deciding against moving in range of its tentacles, at least for the time being, Aaron sheathes his swords and moves a little closer, drawing his crossbow while doing so. At the same time, he keeps his eyes fixed on the huge beast -if it can be called a beast, considering its apparent intelligence- and tries to discern anything of value about it. Yet, despite his experience fighting the smaller cephalopods, he is not prepared for this particual foe.
"Well, this is new," he mutters to himself before turning to the others.
"I am assuming you kind of need your friends still alive after all this," he calls out to the rest of them as he stands ready to load his crossbow and shoot at the makaru first chance he gets.
"You bloody well assume right..." Ollivor states.
[ooc[Raging 3 of 6 +4 to Strength[/ooc]
Doubled over in pain grasping at his head Thorn Fights the foreign commands of Makaru. As he battles in his mind with Makaru his inner rage boils over and Thorn is able to cast off the voice and hears his own. "I will not kill my friends monster but I will kill you!!! Thorn drops his bow and draws his great elven curve blade and lunges forward with a upward slash. Thorn cuts deep into the monsters midsection.
Ollivor feels the magic crawl up his spine, and a cold fear grips him, the like of which he's only felt a few times in his life. Normally, when something scares Ollivor, it makes him mad! But this time, magic doesn't quite allow that. The sorcerer's hands shake a bit, and his face is as white as a sheet.
Dear gods, there's TWO of her! The thought is almost hysterical. As much to avoid her as for any tactical reason, while he does race forward he also veers away from her.
This Makura actually scares him less than the woman he came to save. While his fingers may shake, they still hold long enough to release twin bolts at the monster controlling their friends.
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Wyn! John yells, watching as Crimson's knee drives up hard into the woman's side. Gritting his teeth, John points towards the Makaru. You've made a terrible mistake beast! You enslaved my friends and you're going to die for it. Gripping the trident in one hand and his axe in the other, John thinks for a moment about hurling the coral trident at the beast as if in exclamation from his words. Judging the distance however, John shakes his head, realizing that the cast would have to be perfect to even have a chance at striking the creature. Instead, John splashes through the water towards the combat that Wyn and Crimson are locked in.
It seemed appropriate, John thought in a sudden flash as he charged through the water towards Crimson, that it would be Wyn and John once again locked in a combat to save the scarred man. Hopefully they could work as a team again despite their difference.
___________________________
Thorn slashes the makaru's rubbery flesh with his elven curved blade, cutting deeply into the undulating body of the octopus-like creature. It emits a silent, telepathic scream at all of them, louder than any vocal chords could produce. Nearly simultaneously, Ollivor's force missiles slam into its side, rippling its skin. The makaru uses its feeler tentacles to crawl and slither away from Thorn. It gets closer to its new prey - Doran - and flings out two of its tentacles at the halfling. The first tentacle, which is almost as thick around as his body, slams him hard and sends him reeling. The tentacle starts wrapping around his body, but Doran wriggles free for just a moment. The second tentacle slaps onto his body, quickly wrapping him up tightly in its grip. Doran can feel the suckers grabbing onto his skin, and he can feel the humming pulses of the alien tongue begin to assault his psyche. He receives no commands or instructions, but he is ready to fight as hard as he can to reject the psychic onslaught.
The makaru simultaneously mercilessly slams its tentacles into Thorn, seemingly angry about his resistance to the mental command. It grabs hard and squeezes into Thorn's body, keeping him from attacking again. The elf can feel his skeleton pop and his skin bruise under the pressure, but it is nothing compared to the mental compulsion that he feels to drop his weapon. His elven heritage and innate resistance to being told what to do helped him not turn on his friends and allies, but the mental attacks keep coming. The physical attack of a slamming tentacle misses him by inches as he tries to twist free, even with one of the tentacles holding him in place.
So much had changed in a matter of seconds. Wyn almost considered withdrawing from Crimson to charge Sandara after seeing her cast spells--that was a bad thing--but with John joining her she couldn't leave him alone, nor did she want to get too far from Thorn either. Besides, she wasn't sure which Sandara to charge.
When Vrun asks if he needs help, she yells back after she's had a second to assess the situation, "Either help Thorn or take care of Quinn!"
She sidesteps carefully in the water so that Crimson is directly between her and John, following his unspoken cues to keep Crimson guessing as to their movements. Mindful of the pain in her ribs, she aims a swift kick in Crimson's direction, returning the injury in kind.
Crimson grabs his side and groans in pain. He splashes back, feeling John behind him, and kicks at Wyn's left knee. Used to the dirty tactic, she brings her leg up so that it passes underneath. He rears back and delivers a powerful haymaker with his right fist, hitting her straight in the center of the face. She can feel her nose break with his attack, streaming blood down her face and chin. "It's easier this way," he insists, "if you just accept the makaru's gift."
Sandara - the pair of Sandaras - charges towards John. She raises a fist to strike him but stops short of doing it. She shakes her head and seems to snap to it. "Yaaahh!" She shouts in exertion as she resists the mental command. She yanks a hidden pendant from her pocket and holds it up. A wave of healing energy explodes out of her, rolling over her crewmates. The magic stings exquisitely as it heals their wounds, far different than Vrunyar's antiseptic magical healing. "Like I told you the first time, I'm not interested!" She looks over at John and winks at him. The command to attack him was apparently enough against her nature that she could throw off the mental shackles that bound her.
is up! Map link!
After the brutal, smashing blows from the makaru's tentacles, Doran is terrified to find he's trapped in the creature's grip. He knows his only chance is to try to wriggle free of the monster's crushing strength, and he tries to do so, but is held fast. In frustration, he cries out, "Kill the beast, not his slaves! Fight the monster!!"
"'d'love to, Dor, but the slave's between us and it!"
”I’ll try to free Thorn,” Vrunyar says to Wyn and the others. The healing he received from Sandara makes him feel fresh, washing away the weariness and aches accumulated over the past two days.
He wades through the water past Ollivor to get a better shot at the tentacle holding his elven crew mate. John’s right! This beast is going to die. And we need Thorn’s arrows, he thinks as he aims towards the base of the tentacle. The monster is much larger than Thorn, so that should help him. He fires but the bolt is intercepted by one of the makaru’s other tentacles and slapped harmlessly into the water.
”Torag’s slag!” he spits.
Sandara - the pair of Sandaras - charges towards John. She raises a fist to strike him but stops short of doing it. She shakes her head and seems to snap to it. "Yaaahh!" She shouts in exertion as she resists the mental command. She yanks a hidden pendant from her pocket and holds it up. A wave of healing energy explodes out of her, rolling over her crewmates. The magic stings exquisitely as it heals their wounds, far different than Vrunyar's antiseptic magical healing. "Like I told you the first time, I'm not interested!" She looks over at John and winks at him. The command to attack him was apparently enough against her nature that she could throw off the mental shackles that bound her.
"Oh sure... HIM you don't want to hurt.." Ollivor mutters, his teeth threatening to chatter, "Still, good to have you back on our side."
Following Vrunyar's example, Aaron takes aim and lets loose a bolt from his crossbow, his target the makaru's tentacle holding Thorn. The Chelaxian tries his best to avoid hitting the elf, trying to use everything he knows about these strange creatures, these... aberrations, in this confrontation with what appears to be a much more formidable member of their race.
Thorn watched as the Makaru withdrew his position away from him and quickly turned its attention towards Doran. The Makaru unleashed a barrage of tentacles upon Doran before grabbing him tightly with one of the great tentacles and attempting to squeeze every bit of life out of Doran. Thorn was too slow to react when the Makaru double back for Thorn by unleashing his remaining tentacles at him. The first tentacle grabs Thorn tightly and lifts him in the air out of the water while the second tentacle rises over Thorn's head just briefly as the Makaru tried to decapitate the elf. As the Makaru began to squeeze Thorn like Doran by trying the squeeze every once of life out of him. Thorn felt a crushing pain momentarily but a sudden rush of warm energy rush through his body and soothed all his pain away from his body and Thorn felt rejuvenated and refreshed. The warm feeling was brief before a eerie and familiar voice forced its way back into Thorn's head. "You will pay for your insubordination. Now Drop your weapon, resistance is futile!" A sharp and piercing pain penetrated Thorn's mind and sent shivers through his body. Thorn tried to resist the command but watched in disbelief as his hand open against his will to release his fathers sword and obey his new master.
The feeling of restraint and immobility did not sit well with Thorn but there was nothing he could do. In the distance Thorn could see Vrunyar and Aaron raise their crossbow in his direction. The first cross bow bolt was easily reflected away by another of Makaru's massive tentacles but the second bolt struck true. The bolt pierced the tightly gripping tentacle and slightly loosened its grip. "This is my chance" Thorn thought to himself as he began to quickly wiggle himself about an inch free before a familiar piercing sharp pain preceded the same erie voice "Resistance is futile! Join me and I can show you how to evolve to something much greater, like a god." The tentacle quickly adjusted its grip and re-tightened around Thorn's torso.
Gods I hope Quinn STAYS on our side... no, don't be afraid of Quinn, don't be afraid... But he is afraid, even though he has to get closer to her in order to get in range of the tentacle that's holding Thorn.
Gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering, the young sorcerer races forward to Sandara's rear and flings a large spark of electricity at the part of the monster that contains Thorn.
Unfortunately, the spark goes wide, "D..damn it.." Ollivor curses.
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It's cause I'm the charming one mate! John bellows, laughing as Sandra's healing energy flows over the group. There was often a turning point in battle. John had felt it before and the sensation was no stranger to him. In the battle aboard the Carron Maw he had felt it, just as the hidden reserves of mercenaries charged up upon the deck cutting the boarding team from the Righteous Eagle from making their escape. John had felt it aboard the Empty Lighthouse when Captain Jonas had fallen to the hell-spawns arrows. John was no stranger to the tides of battle.
Grinning wildly, John glanced at Sandra before throwing the captured trident he held in his burly hands at her feet with a splash. I knew you were still with us! John cried before grabbing his axe and rushing towards Thorn, who fought with bellows of rage against the Makaru's grasping tentacle.
Each foot fall caused a splash of water. It rose in a spray behind him as John grabbed the axe with both hands. A long purple tentacle, covered in black veined sucker pods flew towards him with sickening strength. At the last moment, John, still charging threw himself to the left just as the massive appendage slammed down into the water.
Holding the axe high above his head, John aimed for the meatiest piece of the Makaru's limb, that was already oozing ichor from a crossbow bolt fired by Aaron. As the blade fell, John could see the wild fury in Thorns eyes. Blade falling John heaved downward with every ounce of strength he had. The axe bit deep through blubber, sinew and muscle. A telepathic howl of wordless pain ripped through Johns mind as blood sputtered from the now severed tentacle.
Crimson turns and swings at John as he passes, only to find Wyn grabbing hold of his hand just long enough to throw his momentum off. The brainwashed pirate turns his attention back to his friend, intent on doing the makaru's will.
The makaru mentally bellows in rage as its useless tentacle stump flails about and dumps blood into the water. It drops Doran back to the ground, turning its three remaining tentacles upon John. The first tentacle spins around John's neck, pulling him up out of the water as it constricts. With one hand holding onto his blade and the other trying to keep the tentacle from strangling him, John does his best to stay alive. The second of the tentacles - the one that had been holding Doran - slams into his stomach, rocking him backwards in the makaru's grasp and wrenching his neck badly. Its last tentacle streaks towards him and whips him across the body, impacting him through his armor as if it weren't even there. John can feel the makaru's will begin to overpower his as he feels his body tense up to stop fighting altogether. The paralysis and terror begin to set in for the barely-conscious sailor.
As John leaves her and charges toward the beast and then thoroughly gets thrashed, Wyn decides its better to give the makaru another target--and Crimson can hopefully be distracted by the approaching Quinn. She sweeps her leg at Crimson's knee. She leaves her flank open as she does but Crimson overcompensates as he swings at her side and only succeeds in helping her unbalance him, and a falls into the water.
Wyn somersaults toward the beast but her wet clothes weigh her down and she slams into a tentacle rather than avoids it. She cries out in shock and pain but manages to wriggle away before it ensnares her.
Crimson bursts from the water, coughing and soaked - but Wynifrid is already gone. He turns his attention to the nearest of his enemies - the sorcerer Ollivor. He steps forward after getting to his feet, striking out with a lightning-fast fist. Ollivor's magical protection deflects the blow with an audible humming thump of energy.
"Ollivor! It's a water creature! Lightning!" She takes a step backwards and presses her hand against his shoulder. He can feel a surge of good fortune spreading through his body, pressing down the fear that she instilled in him earlier. Still, with Crimson trying to beat him unconscious just a few feet away, perhaps fear is still the correct emotion.