Halfway up the tower, a curtain is thrown back, illuminating a dark ledge. An imposing figure steps out to survey the camp, and starts barking in the same language that you heard before. The large male figure jumps back into the room, and disappears.
Yuuwa turns, and fires another electrical arc at the giant lizard. It yelps and sways back a forth, still caught in the trap of Origen's spell.
With a grin, the fire elemental drops through the burning hole in the roof of the thatched building, and you can hear the screams of several people inside.
Both started fires expand more, taking on more and more of the building. Even now, this early in the fight, the fire is becoming something truly impressive, lighting up the entire camp.
A door slamming can be heard to the south, as well as a strange rattling sound...like bones clacking together.
Isandril lets his bolt fly, piercing the large lizard through its throat. The beast roars, and drops, it blood pumping out onto the path. It breaths slowly, but it seems to be fading rather fast.
Jonagher ghosts into the foliage across from his previous position, and lines up a shot. His arrow slices through the rising heat waves and confusion, and finds itself buried in the chest of a panicked cannibal.
The fire that Jonagher first started spreads even further.
The Cannibals around the bonfire panic! They spread out, looking about blindly for a moment, trying to find out where they are being attacked from. The one that Jonagher hit, staggers toward the tower, calling something out in their pidgen infernal. Even injured, the man seems to continue forward at a good pace, disappearing into the door near the base of the tower.
Three cannibals burst out of the burning building. One speaks rapidly with one of the other cannibals from near the fire, and points back into the building. His deep tan is marred from the obvious burns over his exposed chest.
Origen says to Isandril, "Nice shot. I'll make it harder for them to chase us."
After Origen cast the spell, he seemed completely disoriented for a moment, as if he didn't recognize what he was doing. He tried to shake it off before you could notice.
He wipes some sweat from his forehead, and he casts a familiar-sounding spell. The camp's entrance is covered with slippery goo.
Origen moves slightly back from the camp's entrance and behind Isandril.
Torden’s curiosity overcomes the trepidation he has had about the conflict with the cannibals. He inches closer to the bend in the path to get a better look at what was happening.
Origen casts and retreats quickly, as Torden moves forward to get a better look.
Over the fire, the group can hear some bellowing, followed shortly thereafter by some drumming...a deep drumming sound that is almost felt more than heard...the sound...it must be traveling for miles.
Over the fire, the group can hear some bellowing, followed shortly thereafter by some drumming...a deep drumming sound that is almost felt more than heard...the sound...it must be traveling for miles.
Origen mutters, "Looks like we found the other drummers, Torden. So much for the civilizing effects of the fine arts."
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Yuuwa watches the lizard for a moment, looking for signs of life. Satisfied there is none, she is startled into realization that those drums mean a call for battle. Turning to the others, "Looks like they are onto us, lets adhere to the pirate code of "Run away so we may fight again". I think we should make haste. Perhaps to our own encampment."
Yuuwa moves to full retreat, putting words to action. Moving down the path and herding the others as needed.
Observing Origen casting a spell, , she does not disturb him, moving past and somehow taking point as she navigates the trail away from the camp.
Jonagher frowns with the noise of the drumming. 'Well, they've got themselves a leader,' he surmises, 'Someone capable of organizing the tribe well enough to respond to an attack. And maybe they've got allies elsewhere on the island. I should have considered that.'
He glances back in the direction of his friends, hoping they've taken their cue and started retreating back the way they came. For himself, he waits to better cover their retreat, and also to further gauge how the tribe's chieftain rallies his men and determine what additional resources they might have to defend themselves.
While still hidden within the treeline, Jonagher moves away from his position to keep anyone from spotting him, and also to get closer so he can better target the cannibals. He then takes another shot. After all, the more enemies he can wound, the more it'll slow down pursuit.
"On we go then. I think we have overstayed our welcome," Isandril remarks as he starts to fall back, crossbow loaded and ready in case he needs to fire again. As he moves, he notices the sorcerer's apparent disorientation and look of confusion. "Origen, are you alright? You seemed... odd just now, as if you did not know what was happening."
Even as he talks, the elf does not stop moving, dividing his attention between the cannibals' encampment now behind them and the jungle in front of them.
"Ia . . . it's hot. I mean, I'm fine, Isandril."
He's lying. In fact, you suspect he's barely able to focus on what Isandril just said. But fortunately, whatever illness that he has isn't making him too sick to run.
"Let's get out of here."
Origen follows his friends, staying close to Isandril.
"I... see," Isandril says, the brief pause in his words hinting at his seeing through the mage's answer. "Well, as long as you are fine, as you say, and able to follow, that is a good enough answer for me."
Torden is engrossed by the conflagration and the return of the drumming. It sounds so deep . . .
If, IF, you are good with it, consider one or more of the following rolls.
Perform (percussion)
Linguistics
Perception
Bardic knowledge
Turning and seeing that everyone else has made their way back down the trail, Torden snaps out of his fascination and head after them.
"I... see," Isandril says, the brief pause in his words hinting at his seeing through the mage's answer. "Well, as long as you are fine, as you say, and able to follow, that is a good enough answer for me."
Origen continues his retreat, oblivious to his companion's intent. He looks back to make sure that Torden is not falling behind.
Yuuwa retreats after ensuring her kill.
The fire set by the elemental kicks up, and rages out of control, spreading quickly with a sudden gust of wind in from the ocean.
As the fire rages, an old crone hobbles in from the south east, flanked on either side by skeleton warriors. She has small animal skulls and old ratty feathers tied to her in many ways, and her hair is in tattered dreads, her eyes are misshapen and milky. She cackles and dances at the sight of the flames as a small monkey capers about, screaming.
Isandril pulls back as well, keeping a vigilant eye on the retreat.
Jonagher seeing the cackling old crone, pops out of his hiding hole and fires an arrow at her. The arrow pierces a slight blue glow about her, before slamming into her side, and nearly knocking her off her feet. She screams, and starts yelling in that pidgin infernal as she visually scans for her attacker, and the skeleton start to rattle and moan.
She spots Jonnagher as he ducks back behind some cover, and curses in her unclear infernal. Her left eye glows red for a moment, and she spits in Jonnagher's direction.
She howls in rage as the skeletons move in on Jonnagher's position. They seemingly surround him, but cannot find him.
The original fire that Jonagher set continues to get larger and larger steadily.
The cannibals, seeing the witch suddenly double over, come running to her aide. The surround her in a wall of their own bodies, ready to intercept an attack on her.
Origen moves along with Isandril and Yuuwa, he is not in a position to see Jonnagher's plight, but he does hear a LOT of commotion going on.
Torden is able to piece together several thoughts about the drums as he follows the others down the trail.
As they move down the trail, Origen is able to clearly see Torden from the light of the fire that was set.
A huge cannibal bursts out of the doorway leading to the tower. The same door that the injured cannibal ran into earlier. He has a head full of blood red hair, and vacant look of rage on his face. He wears a rough leather cloak, with scalps and skulls as shoulder pauldrons. He has tribal tattoos all over his body, and has hoops that stretch out his earlobes. He has a wooden shield with a devilish visage on it, with dried blood on it. He also carries a shining scimitar with red silk wrappings...it looks sharp. He bellows in pidgin infernal, and looks about wild eyed...searching for a target to crush.
Following behind him is the wounded cannibal that Jonnagher shot earlier.
Also, four more guards pump out of the door, following their Chieftain. They stick around the entrance to the tower, javelin's in hand.
Muffled screams can be heard from the second floor of the tower, as several females poke their heads over the railing on the balcony above to watch the burning barracks building, concern for their chieftain and the barracks on their face.
Upon seeing so many enemies...as well as the gleam of the witch's eye...Jonagher flattens himself against the trunk of a tree, hoping to shield himself from view. He immediately recognizes the threat represented by the skeletal warriors, remembering back to their encounter with such creatures in the Blackros Museum of Absalom.
'Blunt weapons smash them apart better...' he reminds himself. Consequently, rather than nock another arrow, he simply draws his light mace instead, holding his bow in his off-hand in case he needs to use it again after making a run for it.
Then, the skeletons surround him and the half-elf realizes he'll need to fight his way out. Hopefully, the skeletons won't be able to impede him. So, he crouches down to hide among the foliage, relying on his low-light vision to help him pick out a target and an escape route. Then, he springs up and brings his mace crashing down on a skeleton's spine to crush it into pieces.
Even as he strikes, Jonagher can still feel the doubt created by the witch's power creeping over his mind. His adrenaline starts to rise as he fears for his life, leaving himself feeling more vulnerable. As such, he rushes through the opening created by lashing out at the skeleton and makes a break for the deeper dark of the jungle.
Origen half-jogs, half-staggers through the hot, dank jungle night. He tries to focus on Isandril in front of him, relying on the elf's keener night vision to guide the retreat.
Torden hurries after the others, bent now on not getting left behind for the sake of curiosity. Nonetheless, once down the trail a bit, he takes time to inform his friends of something he believes he's discovered.
"Those drums . . ." he breathes, "they're signal drums . . ." again a breath, "they're calling back the scouts," breath, "due to the fire and apparent attack on the village." He takes a deep breath. "There may be some coming from ahead of us, making their way back."
He continues moving forward in retreat along with the others.
Jonagher destroys a skeleton as he rushes past, sprinting for safety. The other skeletons zero in on him, and all bring their broken cutlass' to bear.
Each strike misses by mere hairsbreadths as Jonagher deftly dodges and moves into the jungle like a ghost.
The rest of the group hightails it back to the rendezvous point, hearing the chaos and drums fade into the distance.
Jonagher meets them shortly thereafter, and the group moves out quickly. Just as they pass the rigged spike trap that Jonagher left for the cannibals, they come across a fork in the path, the left leading back where they came, and the right, leading up into the hills towards that abandoned shack that was spied earlier.
Shouts and several figures running can be heard on the left path, though you definitely know that could not have spotted you yet. Torden's warning about the scouts returning perhaps...
Origen half-pants, "No one . . . behind yet. Let's . . . thin their numbers."
Origen doesn't sound well. You suspect that only the need to keep moving is keeping him up and focused.
Origen half-pants, "No one...behind yet. Let's...thin their numbers."
"There's no need for all us to get involved," Jonagher returns, not nearly as winded as the poor sorcerer, "Besides, you look like a butterfly would knock you over right about now. And it's way too dark for most of you to see very well out here."
"Isandril? You've got the eyes to lead everyone to safety. And I've got the eyes and skills to take these others on a merry chase full of pain and misery. Why don't the rest of you take that path...towards the shack? You get away and I'll stay behind to sting them again."
"I should be okay, especially if Origen can lay down a patch of that greasy stuff before you leave. Maybe it'll put a bunch of them on the ground for a bit. And, from there, I can put some arrows into them. Maybe kill a few. That spike trap might do the same. After that, I'll lead them off in another direction...away from the rest of you. And, once I lose them, I'll double-back and rejoin you."
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Yuuwa appears like she caught her second wind, and does a quick assessment of our crew for need of a breather. Heal
"This will likely be a straight up physical battle." deep breath "I have healing to back us up a bit. " deep breath "I agree with Origen, lets do a little ambushing ourselves and catch a breather for a minute or two as we setup." Her shield resting on the ground to give her arm a rest from carrying it, she twirls her trident absently, almost invisible in the darkness of the jungle night. Her breathing quickly becomes silent.
"Are you sure the rest of you are up for this?" the half-elf responds, "We can't afford to get tied down with these runners for very long, especially if anyone's following us from the camp. So, if we're going to spring an ambush of our own, it'd better be hard and fast."
He gestures towards the spike trap. "Maybe we can lead them into that? Then, Origen can lay them out with that dazzling spell of his...or some more grease. Isandril and I can fire on them from the edges of the trail, before closing hand-to-hand. You and Torden keep us all on our feet."
He pauses and then adds, "As soon as things go south, however...we turn and run."
"You and your plans, Cousin," Isandril quips with a chuckle. "Sure, I am alright with wreaking a bit more havoc on our rather persistent foes, if for no other reason than to get them off of our backs for a while."
"Still," he continues, gesturing towards Origen, "let us not get too caught up in it, yes? Our friend here is looking none too good, as you yourself have pointed out. So, fend them off, sure, which might only take routing them, not necessarily defeating all of them. Still, let us be quick about it."
"You certain you are up for this?" The half-elf asks the mage, a note of concern in his voice.
Having seen the fire, heard the drums, and felt his lungs and heart pump with the recent run, Torden's adrenaline pushes him forward with the others.
His usual trepidation is lost in the excitement, his voice takes on the growling dwarven quality he often suppresses. "Yes, yes, let's take 'em on."
"Yes, yes, let's take 'em on."
"Then that we shall..." Jonagher pronounces. His shortsword sings free of its scabbard and he also draws from his boot the fine dagger they found the prior day at the shipwreck of the Lady.
"Hide yourselves along the trail. Back that way, on the other side of the trap." He waves everyone off. "I'll come at them from the rear when they set it off." He then retreats into the foliage, becoming one with the night.
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"Aye! That be a good station to fill. I'll on the campside of the trap and capitalize on the potential chaos. My shield and trident will be put to good use for about, say, three rounds is my guess." Yuuwa heads into the underbrush and backtracks the path to just about 20'beyond the trap. She hunkers down behind brush and shield, casts guidance upon herself and waits.
"Darn bugs..." She slaps and waves them away to no avail.
Isandril follows the half-elf's advice, looking for a good place to lay low and hide, while at the same time be able to keep an eye at the trap and its intended victims.
Torden does his best to follow Isandril and Yuuwa into the trees.
"Gads, these bugs are indeed bothersome. Some of them are as big as my head." Torden whispers loudly to the sailor.
Somewhere in the dark, Jonagher silently rolls his eyes at the loudness of his companions. Mentally, he prepares himself to take advantage of whatever distraction they might provide anyway.
"Besides, you look like a butterfly would knock you over right about now. And it's way too dark for most of you to see very well out here."
Origen mumbles, "M'fine. No . . . time now."
Origen follows Isandril into the bush. He tries to take a position where he can use color spray to hit the path.
However, his fever makes him clumsy--and loud.
Moving to the trap site, somewhat into the gulch, but further south than the cannibals old ambush site, the party prepares a warm welcome for their hosts.
The cannibals rush into the kill zone, intent on returning to assist the main camp. Unfortunately, the lead cannibal doesn't spot the trap in time. Possibly a combination of running in the dark night, and rushing back to answer the call of the drums...
The vines snap taught around its ankle, and jerk him up off his feet, to the eastern slope. As the trap finishes, two spikes jerk through his body, causing him to grunt in pain. He flails about, suspended upside-down, partway up the hill side.
The other 5 cannibals are stunned by the sight just long enough for the group to spring their trap.
Eyes fixed on the appraoching cannibals, Origen prepares a magical welcome for them.
Taking advantage of the cannibals' surprise, Isandril aims and lets loose a bolt at one of them.
Torden prepares his sleep spell, "I really want to put someone to sleep," he mutters to himself as much as to anyone else.
He readies to target the back most cannibal in the on-coming patrol.
Having heard the commotion from the cannibal's main camp Brynmor set out cautiously to investigate. It almost seemed as if someone or something was attacking these savages in their own turf. It probably meant trouble too, but if the time he had spent in the island already was any indication, there wouldn't be many more chances to do some actual damage.
Brynmor approaches the ambush area carefully trying to make sense of the situation. Once he sees the trapped cannibal he gets his crossbow out ready to put a bolt into the man to finish him off.
Jonagher darts in from the side of the trail, relying on a swift attack to take the cannibals by surprise. The dagger he retrieved from the shipwrecked Lady flashes once in the moonlight.
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She readies herself for an icicle burst into the nearest cannibal she could positively see, knowing that shooting blindly or by sound will likely strike one of her crew. She stills her breathing and focuses her spellwrath along the path but forgets to brace her trident which falls and hits a couple of treeroots.
[ooc]Icicle Ranged (30')Touch attack: to hit
BAB +2
Damage
+1 per 2 lvl
As the cannibals try to react quickly, the group springs to action.
Origen prepares to cast a grease spell targeting the first cannibal who approaches within 30'.
Torden's deep baritone chants an ancient melody. The last cannibal in the group sways in time with his chant for a moment, but seems to shake it off.
Yuuwa pops up out of the thick grass and cattails, and points at the now lead cannibal, a missile of ice flies out towards it's target. The cannibal turned at the last minute, dodging out of the way as the missile flew by.
Jonagher ghosts out of the brush, just as the cannibal in front of him sprouts a dagger from the liver. The dagger goes in almost to the hilt, and the cannibal lets out a loud gasp. He falls to his knees, trying to reach for the dagger blade, and falls face first onto the path...dead. Deep, dark blood pumps out of the wound around the dagger.
Brynmor can detect an opposing force ambushing the cannibals as they were apparently running back to camp. Details are sparse, as it is a clear night lit only by the moon, but it is easy to differentiate between cannibal, and not-cannibal...clothes being an easy identifier. The opposing force set up a snare trap, and caught the first cannibal on the path. He is speared through the body, and is wiggling about halfway down the ridge. Brynmor turns, and takes a moment to aim, focusing on the next cannibal in the line, as he notices the others seeming to mass attacks on this on. Due to the quality of the light, Brynmor's shot goes wide...the moon is out, but these are not good fighting conditions for a human.
Isandril can smell the very essence of human on these degenerates. He expertly pops up, takes aim, and lets a bolt fly home, hitting the now lead cannibal in the arm.
Origen mumbles to Isandril, "Got to . . . split them up." He staggers from the bush onto the path.
"Over here, you stinking savages!" He hesitates for a moment, as if confused, but recovers in time to send a searing bolt of acid at the foremost cannibal.
"Might as well keep them occupied a little, yes?" The question is directed at Origen, the mage being the one nearest to him, a smile on the elf's face as he asks it.
Letting the crossbow fall to the ground, Isandril moves towards the enemy, drawing his twin blades as he does so. As soon as he closes with the cannibal closest to him, he thrusts with his right hand, the sword's point aimed at his foe's left side.
With one cannibal seemingly down, Jonagher wreches his dagger free of the man's abdomen. He then pivots in the darkness on one foot, feinting low for another runner's legs before executing a quick uppercut maneuver designed to take him in the throat instead.
The half-elf frowns as he feels the dagger clip the man's jawbone and scrape along his cheek more than anything else.
'Oh, well...at least I've given him a new, nasty scar...' Jonagher thinks.
Realizing, however, it might take more to bring down these warriors than he thought, he quickly recovers his stance and prepares to defend himself in the midst of the melee.
Torden draws out his hammer and moves forward and into the center of the path, and urges the cannibals forward, hoping to draw them closer to his allies.
"C'mon dogs," he roars.
Brynmor curses under his breath and drops his crossbow to draw his greatsword. Despite being unsure about the identity of the attackers he decides to take his chances. The inactivity of the previous days and his frustration in being unable to do anything meaningful against the savages up until now overcome his nnormal cautiousness: "Kill first, ask questions later..." he thinks. With sure strides he descends the slope to attack one of the savages with an overhead sweep of his sword.
Origen jumps onto the path, puffing, and sends off a familiar acidic ray. The ray slams into the cannibal in front of him, and he can see it burn some of the skin and muscle.
Torden moves in front of Origen, pulling his hammer, and preparing for any to come near.
Yuuwa moves to stand next to Torden, and fires off another Icicle. She barely misses as the cannibel recovers from Origen's wound, causing her icicle to fly wide.
Jonagher's slice takes the cannibal in the jawbone and cheek, causing blood to spray out on the trail. The cannibal howls and turns to face Jonagher, grimacing, and cursing at Jonagher.
Brynmor grimly moves down the path, drawing his greatsword as he goes. The sound of a blade clearing the sheath can be heard over the grunts and dim of the ambush. Brynmor uses his momentum, coming down the ridge, and brings his blade down in an overhand chop, severing the cannibal in front of him neatly in two.
Isandril rushes forward, drawing his weapons, and slashes quickly at the same cannibal that Origen fired at. His slash connects and opens up the cannibal from shoulder to hip, a roar and a grunt coming from the target as his blood spurts out.
Finally catching their breath collectively after the trap was sprung, the Cannibals all howl in unison. Their veins bulge, their flesh reddens, and the light of intelligence seems to leave their eyes as they froth at the mouth.
The cannibal next to Jonagher, turns and brings his blade down in a vicious and crude overhand chop. His timing off, as his muscles bulge. He moves slow enough that Jonagher easily dodges out of the way.
After having just watched Brynmor slice his tribe-mate in half, one cannibal charges Brynmor, and brings his blade to bear. His blade scores a hit, drawing blood.
After getting slammed with attack after attack, the cannibal in front of Isandril turns, and swings at him first. His blade whistles as it slices through the air...not from fine craftsmanship, but from the brute force behind the blade. His slow movements are easy for the elf to dance away from, causing the attempted strike to miss.
The cannibal stuck in the trap on the ridge struggles, but is unable to free himself.
Origen stumbles forward, firing another ray of acid. He is intent only on slaying the cannibal.
But his eyes are tricked by the darkness, and the ray narrowly misses.