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Yuuwa awakes in her hung hammock, mumbling, "thats where birds usually are..." She cocks one eye open to watch Torden and Origen stumble about for any obvious threat. If she is amused by the bird-panic stricken Torden, she'll watch quietly, slowly coming alert if Origen doesn't calm him down.
Otherwise, she falls back asleep smiling, with visions of dancing dwarves dodging diving seagulls.
Torden, while calling out to wake everyone, prepares to fling a dagger at the fast moving creature if it swoops down at him.
The flying creature moves forward quickly, angling toward the camp.
At Torden and Yuuwa's warning, Jonagher rolls to his feet and squints in the dim light to spot their adversary. Thankfully, his half-elven heritage serves him well. Spying the reptilian "bird," he figures ranged weapons will probably work best and grabs his bow and quiver. He hastily slings the latter and draws an arrow so he can nock it and take aim on the beast. At the same time, he seeks cover behind whatever tree or shrub might best hide him.
Torden roars, recognizing the dimorphodon from a tome he perused prior to their 'landing' on the island. "Careful, lads, those flying lizards generally don't come after prey our size unless there's more 'n one of them."
"Careful, lads, those flying lizards generally don't come after prey our size unless there's more 'n one of them."
"Well that certainly makes things more...sporting!" Jonagher calls out from the shadows, "Thank you for today's zoology lesson, master dwarf. No doubt something you picked up during our foray in the Blakros Museum back in Absalom..."
Yuuwa, offering up obscenities to her deity, launches an icicle at the incoming beast. It takes the flying ice dagger in the shoulder, as it spreads its wings to come in for a bite attack on Torden.
The dimorphodon covers the last twenty feet to Torden, and brings it's wicked teeth to bear. It bites Torden deeply on the arm, and pulls away, ripping some flesh, as it continues on past Torden another ten feet. Greenish liquid drips from its teeth, as well as Torden's wound.
Torden launches one of his daggers at the thing. It sinks deeply up to the hilt in the creatures back. It roars, but continues on an arc around the clearing.
Jonagher quickly moves to a concealed and covered position near the edge of the clearing. He has a clear shot at the beast as it continues to wing its way around the camp.
Origen looks at the creature as it wheels around. "Just a little closer," he mutters, quickly moving to stand next to Isandril.
"Over here, Torden!"
Opening his eyes, Isandril quickly stands up and directs his gaze towards the sky, looking for the flying creature. In one fluid motion, he unsheathes one of his short swords with his right hand, while his left is already pulled back and ready to throw a dagger at the 'bird'.
Torden howls in pain as the things rips into his arm, but channels his fury into his dagger attack.
Though empowered by his successful attack, he scrambles at the call of Origin's voice and the hope of cover.
Isandril launches a dagger at the flying lizard as it sails past, missing it barely, and his dagger plants itself in a tree on the opposite side of the clearing.
Jonagher moves to the edge of the clearing.
Origen launches a familiar acidic ray at the beast, aiming just in front of it as it passes where Isandril made an attempt to attack it. The ray slams into the beast, and burns a hole into its side.
With a screech, it slams into the trees at the far end of the clearing. It is having difficulty breathing, clearly taking its last breaths, as blood pours out of its wounds.
"Anybody see more of them?" Origen looks up into the sky, trying to spot any other silhouettes against the sky.
As Torden approaches, Origen says, "Lucky that you saw it first, Torden. How's the bite? And what exactly was that creature?"
"Anybody see more of them?" Origen looks up into the sky, trying to spot any other silhouettes against the sky.
Jonagher lends his eyes to the task, squinting into the canopy overhead and using the dim light of the stars and moon to help him.
As Torden approaches, Origen says, "Lucky that you saw it first, Torden. How's the bite? And what exactly was that creature?"
"It was another menace on this accursed island..." Jonagher volunteers as he continues slinking through the shadows at the edges of their camp, doing his best to ensure there are no further surprises, "And it's disturbing our rest!"
Your search of the night sky is fruitless. Either this thing was alone, or you scared away any of its remaining companions. The night sounds return to a more normal pitch. The grasshoppers, beetles, and crickets get back to their symphony.
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Yuuwa, assured that no further combat is forthcoming, lets her guard down to tend to Torden's wounds. Whispering quietly to herself, squints her eyes as she palpatates the wound, tracing the tears in flesh and sinew.
"Next time: duck. Now rest, your watch is over, even if you cannot sleep, let your body recover from the combat." She blows her hair from her face and looks for some spare water to rinse off her hands. After she cleans up a bit, she steps into her hammock once again, stabs the soft jungle detris under her with the trident leveraging a rocking motion as she closes her eyes. Clearly she is not asleep when she speaks once again, "Something you learn onboard ships, maintaining a variety of watches, and limited crowded sleeping eating living conditions. Let those who are on duty maintain vigilance, eat when you got food, rest when you can. See you at first light."
"Yuuwa's right. Get some rest, Torden. It'd almost be time for my watch anyway."
Origen listens to the noises in the jungle around, straining to catch any strange sounds. He periodically looks up into the sky.
"Next time: duck. Now rest, your watch is over, even if you cannot sleep, let your body recover from the combat."
"Doubt not, young lady, I'd prefer duck to that thing," Torden's stomach grumbles as her positive energy takes away the worst of the pain and seals the wound.
He needn't be told twice, but makes for a quiet place to rest. There he offers a quick prayer of thanksgiving and supplication to Grunndinnar in hopes that his torn arm can be completely healed. Then he takes the step of stripping off his armor and lying down to rest, hoping to see nothing more until the sun is in the sky.
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If the night retreats from dawn with no further surprises, Yuuwa will check on Torden in the newly risen sun. If she see that Torden is still in need of healing, she'll offer her ministration of mundane or magical healing.
Afterwards she'll bear homage to Gozreh, thankful for the new day, a decent wind to keep the insects away and guidance of how best to deal with the vegetative zombies(natural or unnatural). Afterwards casting Endure Elements on Torden, Jonagher and herself. Her gear stashed within her backpack, donning of her chainshirt, shield and trident, she pokes the flying creature. "Hey Torden, are these good eating?" She whispers a phrase and waves blurred shimmering hand over the flying beast.
Origen looks at the priestess with amusement and disbelief. "You're going to eat it? I'm all for preserving our supplies, but are you missing the food aboard ship?"
Origen activates the magic of his hat, sighing in relief. Even though it's early, the still jungle air is already uncomfortably warm. He keeps watch on the jungle around as his companions rouse themselves for the new day.
Once all are ready to begin, Origen asks, "So, onward to the village? Maybe this group will be friendlier." His tone suggests his lack of conviction.
Origen looks at the priestess with amusement and disbelief. "You're going to eat it? I'm all for preserving our supplies, but are you missing the food aboard ship?"
"Yeah...I'm going to have to agree with our erstwhile sorcerer here," Jonagher adds, "I'd rather dine on more crustacean back at camp than carve this thing up for the table. Food hasn't really been a major problem yet. So I'm not that desperate. And I remember that gruel the ship's cook served up. Don't really care to repeat an experience like that. In some ways, getting stranded on this island was a relief. At least, for our stomachs..."
"So, onward to the village? Maybe this group will be friendlier." His tone suggests his lack of conviction.
"If by friendlier you mean meaner and more lacking in social grace, I suspect you're right." The half-elf shoulders his pack and strings his bow, keeping it close at hand in the event he needs to fire quickly. "I'll stay in front," he tells Isandril as the two scouts make their plans, "Just to make sure we don't stumble across any more of those traps. Make sure you stay within sight of both me and the others following behind you. If I spot something unusual or worrisome, I'll double-back and update you. Then, you can pass on the information to the others while I wait. We'll pull back together if everyone agrees on a new course of action. Otherwise, we push on as we can..."
Torden thanks Yuuwa as he dons his armor and gathers his gear. "I've certainly had a bad couple of days--perhaps a day in the cool breeze of the waterfront, in just my skivvies is what I need." He grins to himself if to no one else. "Okay, okay, to the village."
Torden scans the skies and the underbrush as they move--and knowing his stealthiness is weak, brings up the year--by a few yards so as not to give away Jonager.
"I'll stay in front," he tells Isandril as the two scouts make their plans, "Just to make sure we don't stumble across any more of those traps. Make sure you stay within sight of both me and the others following behind you. If I spot something unusual or worrisome, I'll double-back and update you. Then, you can pass on the information to the others while I wait. We'll pull back together if everyone agrees on a new course of action. Otherwise, we push on as we can..."
"Very well," Isandril simply agrees as he lets the half-elf take the lead, taking care to keep equal distance from both Jonagher, as well as the ones behind him. The elven warrior does his best to follow the rogue's example, moving as quietly as he can while at the same time keeping an eye on his surroundings.
The rest of the evening passes with no interruption. The calm breeze soothes those not on watch to sleep, while Origen finds himself invigorated.
Dawn brings the light on the horizon, a red sky paints the east blood red as the sun rises, clearing to a more normal blue, but with promise of heavy rain as the clouds are heavy upon the horizon.
You make your way back to the trail, and find that the path continues south by southwest. The path winds through a 10 foot wide gulch here, flanked on either side by steep 50-foot-high slopes. Not quite vertical cliffs, these slopes host numerous scraggly plants and a number of hanging vines.
Atop the hill, you see a cleverly hidden blind. You also see someone in there, with a vine leading up into the blind. There is someone in there who is watching the group!
Origen looks at the clouds on the horizon. "Say, Yuuwa, do you think those will blow over?" I hope so.
He's too focused on the threat of rain to notice a more immediate danger . . . .
Isandril simply agrees as he lets the half-elf take the lead, taking care to keep equal distance from both Jonagher, as well as the ones behind him.
"Red sky in morning, ranger's warning," the elf mutters almost to himself, a half-remembered phrase coming to him. "The weather is going to change," Isandril offers as he looks at the red morning sky, "and not for the better." He smiles. "Never fear though, I am certain I will be able to take care of finding enough food so that we do not need to use up our own supplies if it comes to that. And there are some ways to make bad weather feel... well, less bad actually."
As they move along, the warrior-turned-tracker makes a motion for the ones behind him to stop as he calls out to Jonagher in as low a voice as he can. "There is a trap over there, where that vine seems to run up the ridge," he says, hopefully before the rogue accidentally sets it off. As he looks around for any other nasty surprises, he finds one sure enough.
"Up there," he simply says, turning his head and eyes in an attempt to signal to the others to follow his example and look towards the hilltop and a hidden blind, its occupant watching the group.
...he calls out to Jonagher in as low a voice as he can. "There is a trap over there, where that vine seems to run up the ridge..."
Jonagher stops in his tracks. He can feel the color of his embarrassment at not having seen the trap before the sharp-eyed elf behind him. Without giving his lack of attention away, he nods and crouches down.
"Why, yes...of course," he whispers back, "I was just about to warn the rest of you."
"Up there..."
Jonagher looks up the hillside, trying to perceive what Isandril has already discerned.
"I see him too," Torden whispers.
Torden then begins to chant slowly and then suddenly burst out in a roar.
Isandril draws weapons, and calls out the two dangers to the group, the trap and that someone was up on the ridge.
Yuuwa draws her weapons, and prepares to move to protect Origen.
Torden draws his weapons and looks to the ridgelines.
Origen looks up on the ridge, trying to spot whatever is up on the ridge. He prepares to dodge any attack that might be coming.
"Isandril! Take the hill! I'll cover you!" Jonagher urges, drawing an arrow and launching a shot at the man on the hill.
Not needing to be told twice, Isandril returns his swords to his scabbards and scrambles to the side of the hill, immediately moving to close the distance to the one watching them.
Suddenly remembering his crossbow, Origen pulls it off his back and fumbles for his case of bolts. Got too used to the rays . . . Elly'd never let me live this down.
Origen tries to look up the hill to wherever Isandril seems to be running.
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Yuuwa catches movement up on the ridge and advances to cover Origen with her fully armored self(well Chainmail shirt anyway) and shield. She posts her trident into the ground alongside her, and casts Guidance(+1 next action/save) upon Origen as he preps the crossbow.
She speaks in a stage whisper "If they've got reinforcments up there, I'll cast Obscuring mist and we will retreat to a defensible position."
Edited for snarky comment: Oh yeah she rawks!
Isandril sheathes his swords as he moves deftly up the ridge wall. He barely uses handholds, seemingly dancing up the steep incline. He easily makes it to the top.
As he does so, a javelin comes sailing out of the blind at him. It grazes Isandril's thigh, leaving a gash in his leg.
Yuuwa, having seen the blind earlier, shouts to Gozreh and launches an icy bolt into the camouflaged area. A deep thud resounds from within.
Origen brings out his crossbow, and starts to load it.
Jonagher feels the wind, and launches his arrow up into the hiding spot. There is another deep thud, followed by a blood curdling scream as the arrow finds its home.
Origen finishes loading the crossbow, and he focuses it on the ridge next to where Isandril is standing, waiting till he can see a target.
After a few moments, he sees that Isandril doesn't seem to be fighting anyone, so he relaxes a little. "Are we all clear, Isandril?"
"Keep covering us," Jonagher offers to Origen as he too jogs up the slope to join Isandril, "We'll check it out." On his way, he draws and nocks another arrow, just in case more of the natives are around or heard the attack.
Once he arrives, he maintains a sharp lookout, using the hillside as a vantage point from which to attack anyone else who appears. He waits until Isandril examines the fallen man.
"Is he dead?" he asks.
After a few moments, he sees that Isandril doesn't seem to be fighting anyone, so he relaxes a little. "Are we all clear, Isandril?"
"So it would seem," the elf calls back. "There was only one up here, a sentry." He then proceeds to move closer to the downed foe.
He waits until Isandril examines the fallen man.
"Is he dead?" he asks.
"Well," Isandril starts as he crouches down next to the fallen native, wincing at the pain coming from his leg, "between the icicle and your arrow -incredible shot, by the way- he is certainly in no shape to be going anywhere. As for his being dead or not, I think not; simply unconscious, though more than a little wounded."
"It hardly takes a healer to say that, mind you," he turns to the half-elf with a smile. "Not when two such pointy things are sticking out of him."
"Well," Isandril starts as he crouches down next to the fallen native, wincing at the pain coming from his leg, "between the icicle and your arrow -incredible shot, by the way- he is certainly in no shape to be going anywhere. As for his being dead or not, I think not; simply unconscious, though more than a little wounded."
"Hmmm...well...if we can bring him around...after trussing him up, of course...maybe we can interrogate this fellow and see what we can learn about him and his people."
The half-elf looks back down the hill and waves the others up. "Watch your step," he advises, "But I think you guys will probably want to see this..."
"Also, Isandril's got a bit of gash from this guy's javelin. We might need a break to see if we can patch everyone up...including our captive."
"You know," Isandril offers as he waits for the rest of them to join him and Jonagher, "I rather liked my clothes. They were nice clothes, comfortable and not too bad as far as style goes, if I do say so myself."
He sighs. "Since we got here, they have accumulated more rips and holes than... I do not know. What has many rips and holes, Cousin?"
Another sigh as he looks down at his leg. "I hope Origen or maybe Torden has a way to magically mend my trousers just as Yuuwa will do with my leg. Otherwise, by the end of the week, I am probably going to be showing more skin than a tavern wench."
"Keep covering us," Jonagher offers to Origen as he too jogs up the slope to join Isandril, "We'll check it out."
"Right. I've got your back." Origen keeps his crossbow ready to fire at any enemy until Jonagher reaches the top of the hill.
The half-elf looks back down the hill and waves the others up. "Watch your step," he advises, "But I think you guys will probably want to see this..."
Origen walks over, looking at the hill skeptically as he unloads his crossbow. "I'm happy that you're so confident in our athletic ability, Jonagher."
He turns to his friends. "Here, Torden, I'll give you a hand up. And you too if you want it, Yuuwa."
With a small sigh, Origen starts up the slope, trying hard not to fall.
"I hope Origen or maybe Torden has a way to magically mend my trousers just as Yuuwa will do with my leg. Otherwise, by the end of the week, I am probably going to be showing more skin than a tavern wench."
Fortunately, Origen's face is turned to the slope in front of him, so his companions don't see the sudden worry in his eyes. This could be a problem. I can use rags to wrap around my arms, but they'll know something is wrong with me.
As he grabs his next handhold, Origen responds, "Sorry, Isandril, but I'm better at destroying things than fixing them. At least you'll improve the women's morale."
Origen makes it up the hill to the top reasonable well, with a minimal amount of work.
The cannibal is in fact breathing still, though shallowly.
He is nearly naked, a ragged loincloth of what looks to be human skin is his only clothing. He had red swirling patterns drawn about his body, and has a nearly shaved head. As he yelps in pain, you do notice that his teeth are pointed, almost like a sharks. He has a sizable icicle sticking out of his shoulder, and an arrow sticking out of his lower back.
Origen stoops down to look at the shark-toothed native, absent-mindedly rubbing at his wrists.
"Sharpened teeth. Better and better."
Origen rummages through his pack and pulls out a short length silk rope. "If you don't mind, I'll leave tying the knots to a sailor. But here's a rope for it."
"Sharpened teeth. Better and better."
"Well, that sounds like a fellow with a winning smile..." Jonagher quips over his shoulder while he keeps a lookout, "You fellows work your magic on seeing what we can get out of him. It's best to know what we might be walking into before we walk into it."
With that, the half-elf moves to hide himself in the same spot the wounded cannibal once occupied. He also takes the time to examine the trap of vines and the ingenuity behind it so he can get a sense its construction as compared to the earlier traps they encountered.
"Thank you for your efforts to assist me Master Origin, but I think I can make it."
Torden carefully attempts to pick his way up the slope, slinging his hammer and fumbling through the underbrush.
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Yuuwa clambers up the hillside, taking her time as there is no rush. Perception
Good thing too, as she spots a fine looking vine amongst the many roots. She is not even breaking a sweat from the effort, although that could be more due to the Endure Elements spell. She pauses at the top, near the blind to see what is around when she hears a cry of pain within.
Sense motive DC 15
She steps nearer to the blind and peers in. In Common "Well, lets see if he can do more than cry out in pain. Isandril be ready to keep him from yelling out." Looking at Torden "Would you like the honor of establishing a dialogue, I am gonna step away and help Jonagher for a bit."
perception
Origen looks out of the blind to catch the expression on Yuuwa's face. "What's wrong, Yuuwa?" Does she think that we're going to slit his throat after we're done? That'd be . . . barbaric.
Torden makes it up the hill in due time.
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DM Berwick
Yuuwa keeps a poker face, obstinately maintaining a lookout with Jonagher.