"That would be the logical course," Jonagher quips, using humor as always to try and defuse a tense situation, "But I'm rarely logical, I'm afraid. I'm far more practical instead."
"Isandril and I usually take the twilight hours when the light is dim," he explains, "We see far better in those conditions. Torden is best for the deepest night with his dwarven eyes. And Yuuwa, Origen, and yourself are usually better suited for when the sun starts to rise or just before it goes down. Since it's already nighttime, it might make more sense for Torden and I to stay up together. But if you prefer to keep an eye on me, you're more than welcome to join us."
The human seems to ponder Jonagher's asnwer for a second. He then shakes his head wearily, although his mood seems improved somewhat.
"So you finally admit that you are hardly a reasonable person most of the time."
He chuckles.
"Have it your way. I don't need to keep an eye on you really. You don't strike me as a murderer. And you probably need some quality time with master dwarf over here. I would love to join you, but I 'm exhausted. Yell when you need me."
With that he turns and enters the hut, shutting the ramshackle door behind him. The door creaks badly, even though the human tries to be slow and careful, and Brynmor curses loudly as he tries to secure it in place.
Yuuwa assembles her gear beside Origen as she makes him comfortable as possible for a long night.
As Brymor and Jonagher talk, Yuuwa begins her examination of Origen. Working quickly, but surprisingly gently, she tests his fever and then systematically begins to examine him for any signs of bites or jungle parasites.
Yuuwa:
Despite his collapse, his fever doesn’t seem any higher. Perhaps it’s breaking.
As Yuuwa begins to roll back Origen’s right sleeve, she suddenly pulls her hand back. Something moves underneath his clothes.
Taking a short stick, she pulls back the fabric from around his arm. Several black worms writhe around Origen’s wrist as they burrow into the swollen flesh of his forearm. Thick as a man’s finger, they are at least a hand’s breadth long. With a wet, tearing sound and a trickle of gray fluid, one of the creatures pulls itself partially out of the flesh. It pauses for a moment, its energy spent.
Yuuwa, Heal (DC 13), or Perception (DC 15)
The holes in Origen’s arm aren’t bleeding enough for them to be wounds. In a leap of intuition, you realize that the black worms aren’t parasites: They’re tentacles, which must have been fused to Origen’s body by some unnatural magic, assuming that he’s even human. Origen’s prudishness and his ridiculous habit of wearing long-sleeved shirts even in the hottest weather suddenly make a lot more sense.
Yuuwa
Jonagher and Torden
Satisfied that Brynmor likely doesn't represent a threat, Jonagher turns his attention back to Origen and Yuuwa. He quietly comes up behind the healer to watch a bit of her ministrations to the fever-stricken sorcerer. His eyes widen once she examines his arms.
"It's something more than just sickness, isn't it?" he quietly asks, "Origen always said something was wrong with him. Something he believes happened during his expedition to Sargava and the Mwangi Jungle. But he has no memory of it, apparently. Or, at least, no explanation. I can't say I have one for him either. And I'm guessing your skills as a healer can't provide one, as well."
He looks off into the jungle. "We've got to get off this island," he says, "If his condition worsens, there's nothing we can do for him here. And, if it gets better, that might actually worry me more. He wanted to retrace his father's expedition to find out what happened to him. Unfortunately, it seems like whatever it is...is still happening to him. And once it's done, we may not even know the real Origen anymore."
"Did you hear those words he was mumbling?" he asks, "He was speaking Aklo. A very old language. I know it from some of the stories and books my mother kept. Only the most dangerous...and, in some cases, evil...creatures and societies spoke it. Most of them originate from before the time of Golarion. From the First World. Or, at least before Earthfall and the coming of Aroden."
"He's dealing with something very old and very dangerous, Yuuwa. We've got to keep an eye on him. Because he may become a danger to us, as well. Especially if he can't master or reverse whatever's happening to him."
* * *
Jonagher spends the rest of his evening keeping watch over the camp with Torden. To pass the time, he takes out a whetstone and sharpens his knives and sword.
"Seems like we handled those cannibals fairly well back there," he notes aloud, "But we sure stirred up a hornet's nest of them. Lots more than I thought there'd be. And hard to imagine that many keeping themselves so well-fed. I guess all those shipwrecks on the shoals of Smuggler's Shiv must bring them new victims fairly regularly. And we're their latest batch of livestock ready for the culling."
"It was a wise move to attack them tonight," he adds, almost like he's trying to convince himself, "I was worried there might be children there. And then we'd have to deal with that moral dilemma, too. But, as it is, I'm happier they're all grown adults. And I have no qualms about putting them down. It's going to be survival of the fittest...and the sanest...out here. And we're going to have to keep hitting them to ensure we're the last ones standing."
"Also, I was talking to Yuuwa about getting off this island. It's important we get Origen back to the mainland where someone more skilled at assessing his condition can help him. To do that, we've either got to do one of two things. The cannibals had a tower at their camp. Looked like maybe an old lighthouse to me. If we could take it, maybe we could signal for help...attract another ship to the island and barter for passage to Sargava."
"Failing that, we need to start thinking about a boat. Between all the shipwrecks around this island, we ought to be able to find enough salvageable wood to make a really big raft...or maybe multiple rafts...and then try our hand at getting off the island on our own. But only after we stockpile enough food and water to take with us so we can last the journey."
"I'm not sure what your skills might be like with such a thing, but all the dwarves I've ever known were builders of some sort or the other. You think maybe you could try your hand at something like that?"
Torden’s silence deepens. Up to this point, shipwreck and all, this has been merely a wondrous adventure—slightly more exciting and exotic than his diplomatic tours, but an adventure and little more. Now, however, the thrill of the battle worn off, Origen’s condition not only worsening but also becoming more mysterious, and now Jonagher reminding him that they are on an island—shipwrecked and isolated, the dwarf feels a bit of fear and a bit of sadness. His songs and the library of epic tales he normally can recall in a moment have left him.
“Your friend Origen has proven a strong ally in our journey thus far, through the museum debacle and now on this island forgotten by the gods, but I heard what you heard and saw what you saw. His condition is concerning not only because of what it might do to him, but what it might do to us. We are fortunate to have come across this Brynmor, but then he starts speaking infernal. This is bad business.”
Talk of fighting the cannibals only troubles him more, until Jonagher mentions the lighthouse, signaling a ship or even building a boat.
“Yes, yes, getting off the island. We should focus on that. We’ve forgotten our purpose for coming here. We’ve spent too much time exploring the island, we need to just get off of it. But building a boat? I don’t know that I could help much—though I’m willing to try just about anything once.”
The hours slowly tick away...
"NO! Brynmor, for the love of Gods no! Please! I have it under control! It's gone! For real! Please don't do it!" the lean tiefling struggles desperately as a huge man in full armor and a bulky dwarf struggle to keep her pinned down. A third cloaked figure chants softly nearby, clutching a holy symbol in trembling hands. Brynmor stands above her chest holding a highly ornate dagger pointed down in a double grip. His eyes are wild and he hesitates.
"Do it you Chelaxian fool! Now, while we can still hold it!' bellows the one-eyed dwarf, barely able to keep the tiefling's left arm pinned down.
"Brynmor, she's gone! The fiend is just toying with us! Arvanoth is gone... For good... Do it, or we will perish as well..." the huge warrior pants heavily, as he too fights with everything he's got to keep the tiefling down.
Arvanoth's red eyes turn that freakish uniform black again, as the fiend cackles maniacally, and starts talking in an unnerving pattern alternating seemingly randomly between her usual clear voice and a ,deep guttural growl.
"Noooo, don't do it Bryn-mor... Spare your poor buddy Arvanoth... The fiend is gone... For real..." Looking at Brynmor's anguished face the fiend seems to stay still for a split second. "Oh, gimme a break... Really? This keeps getting better! How pathetically predictable... You care for this b+$&&? You weak, pathetic, fool!" The hysterical laughter turns into a howl, as the fiend loses its patience and starts hissing and cursing in Infernal.
"Give me your best worms! You're mine! You 're all mine anyway! Killing this husk won't matter at all! I just get a free ticket back home...and then... I will be back again! I will get every single one of you! And I will feast on your souls!"
"Do it you oversized GIT! Do it now, damn you!' screams the dwarf again as he is nearly thrown on his back, by the creature that cackles with glee.
Brynmore seems in utter shock. Hands trembling, he seems frozen in place. Finally after moments that seem like an eternity, he mumbles "Forgive me..." as he bears down with all his weight and plunges the dagger hilt-deep into Arvanoth's heart.
For a moment the tiefling's eyes turn red again, and tears start streaming down her ravaged face. A backlash of crackling reddish-black energy explodes, launching everyone off their feet and towards every random direction. The place looks like a charnel house, with bodies torn limb from limb scattered all over the place, blood and gore mingling with mud as a soft rain starts to fall. Then there is only silence.
A scream can be heard from inside the hut. A couple of moments later the door creaks open and Brynmor appears, panting and steadying himself against the frame as he wipes his face with his hand. He appears drenched in sweat, as he shoots a wary glance to the others and clumsily walks toward the stream, where he practically plunges his head into the cool water.
A couple of minutes later he gets back inside, only to appear shortly with his gear. He seems more composed now.
"I guess nothing untowards happened, while I was snoring the hours away, right?" he says in a low voice as he moves towards the group. "How is your friend faring?"
A scream can be heard from inside the hut.
Jonagher draws his knife and nimbly rolls to his feet at the sound, looking on in costernation at the hut.
A couple of moments later the door creaks open and Brynmor appears, panting and steadying himself against the frame as he wipes his face with his hand. He appears drenched in sweat, as he shoots a wary glance to the others and clumsily walks toward the stream, where he practically plunges his head into the cool water.
Jonagher watches the man go and silently puts his knife away. He glances at Torden with a quizzical expression, at a loss to explain Brynmor's outburst.
A couple of minutes later..."I guess nothing untowards happened, while I was snoring the hours away, right?" he says in a low voice as he moves towards the group. "How is your friend faring?"
"He's resting easier. For now," Jonagher says, "It doesn't seem the same can be said for yourself, however."
Unsure of what else to say, he looks around the camp for a moment. "I'll go wake Isandril. He'll stand watch with you. Yuuwa needs her rest if she's to take care of Origen tomorrow."
Before turning away, he stops to add one more thought. "We'll be heading back to our own camp at sun up. We've already been gone longer than the other castaways expected. It's best we check in with them. You're welcome to come along. It might do you good to be around people again...instead of...you know...whatever those things have become since being driven mad enough to eat the living."
"Isandril and I can lead the way. And we could use your presence to guard the rear while Torden and Yuuwa look after Origen..."
You do notice that on top of all this strangeness with Origen, he is also most likely in the incubation period of a rather nasty disease called the Red Ache.
The night seems to pass with no interference. Though the cannibal village stays quiet, and the nighttime creatures keep mostly to themselves...the air is filled with a nervous energy.
At first light, as everyone is waking from fitful sleep, the jungle is quiet for a moment...then the drums start. A deep, thrumming sound, booming forth from the cannibal camp!
"He's resting easier. For now," Jonagher says, "It doesn't seem the same can be said for yourself, however."
Brynmor shrugs awkwardly as he acknowledges the half-elf's comment. "A really vivid nightmare. I get them sometimes."
"Unsure of what else to say, he looks around the camp for a moment. "I'll go wake Isandril. He'll stand watch with you. Yuuwa needs her rest if she's to take care of Origen tomorrow."
The human nods in agreement and looks to find a suitable spot for them.
Before turning away, he stops to add one more thought. "We'll be heading back to our own camp at sun up. We've already been gone longer than the other castaways expected. It's best we check in with them. You're welcome to come along. It might do you good to be around people again...instead of...you know...whatever those things have become since being driven mad enough to eat the living."
"Isandril and I can lead the way. And we could use your presence to guard the rear while Torden and Yuuwa look after Origen..."
He looks at Jonagher again and this time he seems determined and clearheaded.
"Aye, sounds like a plan. I was wondering about the rest of your group as well. After our little party yesterday, those freaks might get interesting ideas and decide to head for your friends. I will join you. And we might talk a bit about those crazed monkeys as well. I think I 've found out a few things about them".***
At first light, as everyone is waking from fitful sleep, the jungle is quiet for a moment...then the drums start. A deep, thrumming sound, booming forth from the cannibal camp!
At the sound of the drums Brynmor tenses immediately and starts cursing softly.
"Damned freaks... I think I recognize this call. They 're starting something big. A prayer or a ritual of some sort. I don't like this at all. We have to move fast, if we are to find out what is going on, while there is still time to do something about it.
Origen's fever breaks during the night, and he awakens in his right mind. The faint nausea from yesterday still dogs him, but he feels surprisingly refreshed.
Yuuwa and DM Berwick
His fever is almost completely gone, and so is much of the inflammation. You think that whatever happened to him is over for now. Normally, you'd prefer to give him a day of bed rest to recover, but under the circumstances, Origen is fit to travel.
He lifts himself up on one elbow. What happened? Wait . . . my arms . . . .. Underneath the thin blanket covering him, a ropey mass of black tentacles lies coiled around his forearms like a nest of serpents.
A quick look at Yuuwa, who sits nearby, reveals the truth. They know now. He sinks back to the ground, closing his eyes. The long tentacles withdraw into his arms.
At first light, as everyone is waking from fitful sleep, the jungle is quiet for a moment...then the drums start. A deep, thrumming sound, booming forth from the cannibal camp!
At the sound of the drums, Origen throws aside the blanket and drags himself up from the ground. "Yuuwa, have you seen my . . . ah, there." He picks up his hat.
"I don't remember much from last night, but I vaguely remember you taking care of me. Thanks."
All traces of the last night's delirium seem gone from him now.
"I owe you--and everyone else--an explanation. I'll give you the whole story when we're a little further away from that drumming. For now, you should know that despite whatever happened to me in Sargava, it was over a year ago, and it hasn't made me harm anyone."
Origen looks away, a little uneasily. Not anyone that I remember, anyway. Not yet.
At the sound of the drums Brynmor tenses immediately and starts cursing softly.
"Damned freaks... I think I recognize this call. They 're starting something big. A prayer or a ritual of some sort. I don't like this at all. We have to move fast, if we are to find out what is going on, while there is still time to do something about it."
Origen says, "What do you have in mind? Falling back, scouting, or attacking?"
"We thinned their numbers last night, but the odds against us still seem long for a toe-to-toe fight. Especially if that hag made the tribesmen's bodies into more zombies."
Torden does his best to regain his composure after Brynmor’s sudden scream and exit from the hut.
“Blast it, boy!” He wants to tell the man how much he scared him, but decides against revealing his fear. Instead he opts for bridge building. “I’ve had my share of nightmares recently.” He casts his case to the shadows of the underbrush.
“Those drums . . . they are . . . I don't think they are a call to war. Perhaps a rite of some sort.“
He casts his gaze back at Brynmor. “Are you suggesting we go visit their village again? Mr. Witt, tell me you're joking. Let’s go back to the others. We need to find out how they are doing, and we need to build a boat. Isn’t that what we talked about? Building a boat?”
"What do you have in mind? Falling back, scouting, or attacking?"
"We thinned their numbers last night, but the odds against us still seem long for a toe-to-toe fight. Especially if that hag made the tribesmen's bodies into more zombies."
Brynmor seems both surprised and relieved to see that Origen has mostly recovered:
"You must be far more resilient than you look magic-user. Count me impressed. Jonagher suggested checking back with the rest of your group, before those damned drums started. That's a sound idea in my book, however I am concerned now about what is going on in that freaky hamlet..."Acknowledging Torden's wary remark he scratches his chin thoughtfully:
"I am not too eager to stir that hornet's nest again master dwarf either. However, they are already pissed and up to something. That devil worshipping hag, Nylithati, is both powerful and crafty. I am more concerned about a ritual than a call to war. Those apes we can kill; abominations from the Nine Hells? I am not so sure."
He turns to face Jonagher who seems to be deep in thought:
"If we strike fast and hard, we might be able to inflict enough damage, so that they leave us alone for some time. It would give us time to plan an escape. If on the other hand they have time to pull off whatever it is they 're doing, then it might be too late. We could scout their thorp and act accordingly. Either attack or fall back to get your people and go somewhere relatively safe. Are your positions defensible, at your main camp?"
|
Yuuwa rolls:
Immediate heal checks:
Future:
Init:
Survival:
Perception:
Heal:
and one combat round
Trident: to hit
BAB +2, MW Trident +1
Damage
She rouses herself up from her prayers session, sees that Origen is already acting healthy much to her dismay. "Origen, glad you feel well enough, please take caution not to suffer a relapse." Something catches her eye and a sudden "Ahhaa" moment, she wanders over to Torden, looking at him closely, pulling up pant legs/pulling back sleeves. She slaps his hands and protests aside, clucking at him like Grandma with no time for shenanigans. "You got something too, but not what Origen has or had. I suspect Bone Crushing Fever. You ain't gonna feel so well pretty soon. Get some water in you and I'll do what I can for now."[ooc]Heal
"If we strike fast and hard, we might be able to inflict enough damage, so that they leave us alone for some time. It would give us time to plan an escape. If on the other hand they have time to pull off whatever it is they 're doing, then it might be too late. We could scout their thorp and act accordingly. Either attack or fall back to get your people and go somewhere relatively safe. Are your positions defensible, at your main camp?"
"Our camp is probably less defensible than theirs...particularly in light of their superior numbers...and the more permanent structures like that lighthouse tower they command," Jonagher allows, "I doubt we could reach the cannibals again before they complete whatever it is they're up to, though. We're quite some distance away, if I'm not mistaken. By the time we arrive, we'll be tired and they'll be energized by whatever fervor this...Nylithati, you say?...whips them into."
The half-elf looks at Origen with a mix of relief, admiration, and yet a bit of uncertainty and distrust with the swiftness of the sorcerer's recovery. "We all but had to carry you here last night," he tells his friend, "Are you well enough to travel? I had thought to lead us back to the shore and update the others. Torden and I were discussing a couple of different plans for dealing with our situation last night and I wanted to go over them with everyone...but only after getting us away from any hunting parties the cannibals might send out following our little raid."
"It's true that might give them further time to recover. But, in all honesty, we could benefit from that, too. Like you, I suspect they animate the bones of those they eat. And I imagine we gave them all full bellies once they butchered their own. But, if the skeletons are preserved, someone skilled enough in witchcraft and necromancy can animate and control them. I encountered four such skeletons last night on our way out...like the ones we faced at Blakros in Absalom, if you remember? I cut one down as I went past them. And, thankfully, whoever controlled them didn't send them after us."
"Regardless, Yuuwa probably has the grace of Gozreh to put them down again," he surmises, "After all, isn't that what you did when we boarded that shipwreck and found those undead things belowdecks? As long as you can do that again, we can probably eliminate those guardians quickly enough. We do need to find the witch responsible for them, though. She could be a recurring thorn in our backside if we don't deal with her before she targets us first."
"Look, I'm no field general," Jonagher explains to everyone, "Bran or Frik would be better at that than me. They're both back at camp. Maybe if we consult with them, they can propose a better plan for dealing with the cannibals? There's also safety in numbers. And right now, our group's split in two. We're able to take care of ourselves as long as we keep our wits about us. I worry about the others, though. We need to let them know what we're facing out here and make sure they prepare some adequate defenses so the cannibals don't carry someone off again. Especially now that we've stirred them up."
"That's my take on it, at least. Now that we're awake, why don't the rest of you speak your mind? I'm willing and able to head either direction." He glances at Origen. "I just want to make sure everyone's up for whatever we decide."
Brynmor seems both surprised and relieved to see that Origen has mostly recovered:
"You must be far more resilient than you look magic-user. Count me impressed. . . ."
Origen nods in response to the compliment. "Not much choice. I don't want to be the reason that those savages catch one of us."
DM Berwick:
" . . . That devil worshipping hag, Nylithati, is both powerful and crafty. I am more concerned about a ritual than a call to war. Those apes we can kill; abominations from the Nine Hells? I am not so sure."
Origen listens closely to his companions as they debate their next step, but Brynmor's mention of the witch stirs him to speak. "You know her name? Do you know what other things that she can do besides animate the dead?"
She rouses herself up from her prayers session, sees that Origen is already acting healthy much to her dismay. "Origen, glad you feel well enough, please take caution not to suffer a relapse."
"Thanks to you, at least in part. I'll try not to slow us down with a relapse. Sorry to disturb your prayers."
Origen steps back from the priestess's devotions. I should probably say a few prayers to Gozreh--and Sarenrae--myself.
Something catches her eye and a sudden "Ahhaa" moment, she wanders over to Torden, looking at him closely, pulling up pant legs/pulling back sleeves. She slaps his hands and protests aside, clucking at him like Grandma with no time for shenanigans. "You got something too, but not what Origen has or had. I suspect Bone Crushing Fever. You ain't gonna feel so well pretty soon. Get some water in you and I'll do what I can for now."]
Origen says, "Torden, when we get back to camp, we should break out one of the alchemical anti-disease elixirs for you."
He coughs, a little self-consciously. "Or maybe both of us."
"My sister used to say that if you're not willing to use potions, you might as well give them away for nothing. 'If you're going to be a fool anyhow, the gods favor the generous ones.'"
The half-elf looks at Origen with a mix of relief, admiration, and yet a bit of uncertainty and distrust with the swiftness of the sorcerer's recovery. "We all but had to carry you here last night," he tells his friend, "Are you well enough to travel? I had thought to lead us back to the shore and update the others. Torden and I were discussing a couple of different plans for dealing with our situation last night and I wanted to go over them with everyone...but only after getting us away from any hunting parties the cannibals might send out following our little raid."
"I think so. Given the situation, I'll have to be."
Origen smiles, a little stiffly. "Besides, I'd never forgive myself if the cannibals caught you because of me, Witt. An island like this can't have enough rum to cook you properly."
I had thought to lead us back to the shore and update the others. Torden and I were discussing a couple of different plans for dealing with our situation last night and I wanted to go over them with everyone...but only after getting us away from any hunting parties the cannibals might send out following our little raid."
Origen looks into the distance, thinking for a moment. "Well, it's daytime. That removes the advantage that you and Isandril have for sneaking around. And our friends back at the camp deserve to know about the cannibals."
"What do you think, Isandril? Yuuwa?"
"I agree that we should return to our camp," the elf offers. "We have been gone for a bit of time and we should see if everyone has been safe during our absence. Besides, we should indeed inform the rest about the cannibals and decide on a course of action."
"Are you alright?" Isandril asks the mage after offering his opinion. "You certainly seem much healthier than yesterday. How do you feel?"
Brynmor Drakh wrote:
" . . . That devil worshipping hag, Nylithati, is both powerful and crafty. I am more concerned about a ritual than a call to war. Those apes we can kill; abominations from the Nine Hells? I am not so sure."Origen listens closely to his companions as they debate their next step, but Brynmor's mention of the witch stirs him to speak. "You know her name? Do you know what other things that she can do besides animate the dead?"
Brynmor turns to Origen.
"As I said, I have found out a few things about these lunatics. She is, or more properly she used to be, a Chelaxian cleric or witch of some sort. I am not sure what exactly she is now. She did have healing powers though, and an appetite for command."
The discussion continues for some times, with the general consensus being that they should check with the others first, before they attempt anything drastic. Suddenly the rhythm of the drums changes perceptibly. Brynmor is jolted out of the discussion and looks expectantly over the treeline towards the cannibal settlement. After a moment he turns to the others with a grim expression on his face.
"It seems I might get my wish for action after all. Did you notice the rhythm changing? I last heard this call the single time when those freaks came near this place. They sacrificed one of their own and then treated themselves to a banquet . I was hidden inside the hut and they never even bothered to approach it, but I saw the whole thing. It will be a golden opportunity to ambush them, right in the middle of what they 're doing. If you insist on leaving this place however, we have to move now and make sure we don't just stumble upon them somewhere on the road. No point in giving them a fair fighting chance, especially since they will be having that hag around."
"...Did you notice the rhythm changing? I last heard this call the single time when those freaks came near this place. They sacrificed one of their own and then treated themselves to a banquet. I was hidden inside the hut and they never even bothered to approach it, but I saw the whole thing. It will be a golden opportunity to ambush them, right in the middle of what they 're doing. If you insist on leaving this place however, we have to move now and make sure we don't just stumble upon them somewhere on the road. No point in giving them a fair fighting chance, especially since they will be having that hag around."
"If they're coming here, perhaps it's because they know we're here...or found our trail?" Jonagher suggests, "Why else would they venture this way following our attack? Is this place important to them for some reason?"
"Either way, they'll probably come in greater numbers than we can handle. Last night, we had the advantage of operating under cover of darkness. But they can travel a lot faster over this terrain than we can. They also know it better. They've got the advantage, so we should probably move away. Doesn't mean we can't leave something behind to slow them down, though."
"I may be able to rig a trap. Possibly on the hut. Or one of the trees again. If nothing else, it should slow them down as they have to keep checking for traps while we make a break for the coast and rejoin our friends."
"Or...we do have another option," Jonagher adds, "Well, two really, but one of them is likely suicidal. The other only marginally less so. As Brynmor suggested, we could try another ambush. I just don't think we should risk it. If they show up with as many warriors as we saw last night, we could be overrun...or worse, captured and taken back for their next feast."
"The second idea might be more viable," he continues, "If we could circle around and go back to their camp without any of them seeing us, we could attack it again while the main group is away and occupied here. Presumably, there'd be less defenders in the little village. We could then rescue anyone else they may have captured. Learn a bit more about them...and whether that lighthouse could be used to signal a passing ship so we can get off this island. We'd also have the chance to find and maybe eliminate this witch if she didn't accompany the main group. But we'd have to be real careful that we didn't linger there or let them pound those drums again and summon the warriors' return before we could get out."
Torden looks back at the shack and the sounds that came from it the previous night.
His eyes narrow a bit as he speaks to Brynmor. "What's in there? Why would they avoid it? Is there something inside we could use to repel them?"
"Right now I fear for our camp. Perhaps the cannibals already know of it, have surmised it is our point of origin and now it is their target. I suggest, unless Mr. Brynmor has something to offer from inside, that we get back to our camp as quickly as possible. Or. . . dare I say it, intercept the cannibals if they are marching in some kind of attack."
"If they're coming here, perhaps it's because they know we're here...or found our trail?" Jonagher suggests, "Why else would they venture this way following our attack? Is this place important to them for some reason?"
Brynmor points to the human bones that seem to be rather plentiful in the area.
"I get the impression that this is something they do regularly, if the human remains here are any indication. I wouldn't necessarily think that they 're on to us."His eyes narrow a bit as he speaks to Brynmor. "What's in there? Why would they avoid it? Is there something inside we could use to repel them?"
"I am not exactly sure to be honest..."
He seems lost in though as he starts to speak again, disgust showing clearly in his voice.
"These freaks were part of a Chelaxian expedition sent years ago to bring Sargava back in line. Their ship crashed here. It would seem that this friggin witch led a mutiny against the captain and took over. He probably retired to this place and continued to oppose them; that could be a reason, but it seems almost too simplistic..."
"It could also be that this is a holy place for them; they come here to sacrifice their own to appease the fiends they worship; it would make sense that they hold the place in awe and fear... What little information I have came from what appears to be the captain's journal, or what remains of it."
"The second idea might be more viable," he continues, "If we could circle around and go back to their camp without any of them seeing us, we could attack it again while the main group is away and occupied here. Presumably, there'd be less defenders in the little village. We could then rescue anyone else they may have captured. Learn a bit more about them...and whether that lighthouse could be used to signal a passing ship so we can get off this island. We'd also have the chance to find and maybe eliminate this witch if she didn't accompany the main group. But we'd have to be real careful that we didn't linger there or let them pound those drums again and summon the warriors' return before we could get out."
He turns to Jonagher, with an almost predatory grin:
"Now that you mention it, I like the second option even better. Provided we can pull it off succesfully, we will be able to hit them hard where it hurts, without the risk of facing their main force. Someone needs to lead the ritual, so I am not sure if we will find the hag back in their hamlet, but we can always find ways to be creative in making their lives miserable."
"And I'm all about making people miserable..." Jonagher can't help but grin through his own humor.
"But in all seriousness, we've got options here. Torden? I doubt they know the location of our camp yet. They only ran across us when they tried to abduct Bran. I doubt they've had much luck scouting the entire beach looking for a new shipwreck yet. Besides, Frik and Bran are still back there looking after the others. They're both capable warriors. Jask confided in us that he's a priest. So, even he'll have the means of keeping back the undead. They'll likely be as good at dealing with the problem as we would."
"In the meantime, this might actually be our best opportunity to deal a really signficant blow to the cannibals if we can cut down part of their leadership. Again, that's assuming the witch stays behind. But, even if she doesn't...as Brynmor says...we'll certainly find additional ways to hit them where it hurts. And they'll know they're dealing with a group that's not afraid to attack at night or during the day."
"It certainly sounds like an interesting enough plan," Isandril comments after a moment's thought. "It should considerably help our continued survival in this place if we manage to deal a crippling blow to the cannibals, if nothing else. After all, even if they have not yet found our camp, they are bound to do so eventually and it might prove the better choice to go on the offensive now instead of simply wait to defend our encampment once they finally decide to attack."
The elf pats his swords' pommels, the slender blades resting in their scabbards. "Besides," he adds with a little smile, "I rather like a challenge and attacking a small community of hungry cannibals is bound to be just that, no matter how good our final plan is. It should make for a good enough fight, anyway."
"Ah," he muses, the thin smile now turning into a grin of excitement, "is this not what adventure is all about? Going up against difficult odds and prevailing. Well, hopefully, that is."
"Far better to tweak the odds in our favor, though," Jonagher drily comments, "I find that makes it far easier to enjoy the adventure of it all."
"If we do this," he adds, "We'll have to move fast...and quietly. Maybe even hide while we let the main group pass by. What I like best about this idea...aside from the fact that it was mine, I mean...is that it does help us stack the odds in our favor. We take on these cannibals on our terms. One small group at a time. We successfully drew them out last night. They send out a foray to try and find us. We strike them again while their camp is that much weaker. And, when the first group comes back, they'll realize their numbers are that much smaller in trying to stand against us."
"If I were a betting man, I'd put the odds in our favor. Provided, of course, we can avoid getting caught between the two groups. That's why we need to be prepared to hightail it out of there if we have to..."
"Origen? Yuuwa? What do you guys think? Your spells will be supremely important to our success if we choose to strike at them again..."
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Yuuwa quietly repacks her gear in her backpack and shoulders it. Her brow furrows as she dons her chainshirt and shield, absentmindedly twirling her trident upon her boot. "It is a tough nut to crack. sounds like they want an all-out frontal assault. We are the target but I am concerned about the crew we left behind taking the brunt on our behalf. Fast or slow they'd get to us if we retreated to the encampment. I feel we must leave our crew to fight alone, as we do the same to their main camp or..."
She cautiously voices an idea that is clearly still forming...
"follow at a discrete distance, as Jonagher, Isandril and Brynmor pick off the slower cannibals. I can cast Endure Elements upon you three to keep pace without heat stroke. We'll follow a bit further behind. I suspect the trail will be easy to locate as no one will likely attempt stealth with a frontal assault. If the witch has an undead corp with her, fetch me before tangling with them. Then target her whilst I reduce the dead to dust. Otherwise we catch them unawares from astern when they reach our remaining crew."
"Far better to tweak the odds in our favor, though," Jonagher drily comments, "I find that makes it far easier to enjoy the adventure of it all."
Origen mutters, "Let's make it as one-sided as possible."
"Origen? Yuuwa? What do you guys think? Your spells will be supremely important to our success if we choose to strike at them again..."
"It's bold, Jonagher, but since they're splitting their forces, I think that it's worth the risk. If we hit their camp again while most of them are up here at the ceremony, that'll give us another chance to fight them on favorable terms. And if we do enough damage, they'll be cautious about leaving their home lightly guarded, which ties more of them down."
Origen stops, disturbed for a moment that he's talking so nonchalantly about killing people, even though they are cannibals. But it's us or them.
"As for my magic, most of you know what I can do. I can fire bolts of acid, make the ground slippery, or stun at close range. I can give someone protection from enchantments and attacks from evil creatures, which would likely help against the witch's magic, and I can make a warrior ogre-sized. That might help you, Brynmor, if we get into a melee."
"But I can't do much at crossbow range, at least not yet. You'll have to rely on Torden or Yuuwa for hitting something far away."
She cautiously voices an idea that is clearly still forming...
"follow at a discrete distance, as Jonagher, Isandril and Brynmor pick off the slower cannibals. I can cast Endure Elements upon you three to keep pace without heat stroke. We'll follow a bit further behind. I suspect the trail will be easy to locate as no one will likely attempt stealth with a frontal assault. If the witch has an undead corp with her, fetch me before tangling with them. Then target her whilst I reduce the dead to dust. Otherwise we catch them unawares from astern when they reach our remaining crew."
Origen thinks for a few moments about Yuuwa's plan. "I like the idea of picking them off as they move. But right now, I don't think that they're coming to get us. Maybe that could be out next step--or our fallback plan for if they seem to be coming toward our camp."
"Also, I'd like to see if they have any captives in that camp. We still don't know where the other sailors from the Jenivere are, assuming that they made it onto the island."
"Also, I'd like to see if they have any captives in that camp. We still don't know where the other sailors from the Jenivere are, assuming that they made it onto the island."
"Very good point. Someone got us off the Jenivere and onto that beach. Then, they disappeared. If they ventured inland to forage or look for help, they could have run afoul of these cannibals quite easily, I'd imagine. In which case, they're either dead...or still held captive. If that had been one of us, I know I'd be hopeful those I rescued would come looking for me."
Origen focuses on the persistent drumming. Is it getting louder, or is it just my imagination?
"Brynmor, do you know another route to their camp from here? If we do decide to attack it, I'm not eager to meet them on the way. Or to let them know that we were here."
Origen looks a bit uneasy. "Unless we could wreck their ceremony by defiling this place. Would that work?"
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"Alright then! Enough talk, a storm is a'brewing and we're running out of time in precisely the wrong place. A majority has been reached to raid the Cannibal Camp. Lets remove what traces we can and circle around to the camp ASAP. You three will be hustling more than the rest of us. Hold still for a minute. She casts Endure Elements upon Jonagher, Isandril and Brynmor. Then starts picking up what ever flotsam or jetsom and tossing it into the cabin. "Lead us to the Cannibal Camp without getting us killed Brynmor. Daylight isa'burnin."
"Brynmor, do you know another route to their camp from here? If we do decide to attack it, I'm not eager to meet them on the way. Or to let them know that we were here."
The mercenary thinks for a moment before he replies.
"There is a trail that might do... However it is going to be somewhat longer than the distance those freaks have to cover. We will have to be fast if we are to pull this off before they get back and catch us red-handed."
She casts Endure Elements upon Jonagher, Isandril and Brynmor. Then starts picking up what ever flotsam or jetsom and tossing it into the cabin. "Lead us to the Cannibal Camp without getting us killed Brynmor. Daylight isa'burnin."
Brynmor accepts Yuuwa's blessing with a nod.
"Aye, we have to get going."He then motions the others towards the rear of the hut and enters the thick foliage.
Brynmor accepts Yuuwa's blessing with a nod.
"Aye, we have to get going."He then motions the others towards the rear of the hut and enters the thick foliage.
Origen spends a moment in concentration, activating the power of his hat, and then he follows Brynmor into the jungle.
"Although speed is of the essence," Isandril agrees as he follows the human warrior into the jungle as well, "it would probably be a good idea to cover our tracks a little. Not all of them, of course, as that would take too long, but doing away with the ones leading away from the cabin could serve just as well."
Taking care to be the last in line as the group leaves the small building, the elf takes a little time to erase any signs revealing their having been there, as well as which way they have taken. He does his best with the little time that he has, knowing full well that he cannot take too long to do as much as he would like.
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RESTART:
Morning Day 7:
The group quickly and as quietly as they can leaves the old hut behind and heads out towards the Thrunefang cannibals encampment. Using the map they have they circle wide around the marked southern path and cut through the thick jungle.
The forest is lush and green for a few miles and although it slows them down for a bit, it soon opens to another path that leads to the camp.
It takes a few hours to get down the winding path and once more see the lighthouse above the trees in the distance. Staying off the path this close the group comes to the village from the south and hides in the treeline watching for signs of life. The lighthouse and other buildings loom before them.
You see no one anywhere around. There are also no guards in the building on stilts like last time.
Origen follows the lead of Isandril and Brynmor. At first, he is quiet, but as the bone-filled hut drops further behind, he relaxes a little, occasionally stopping to ask Torden about some of the jungle plants.
When the group approaches the camp, Origen tries to be as quiet as he can, and he looks all around for signs of another ambush. He winces as a piece of dead wood snaps beneath his foot. I hope that didn't carry too far.
Origen says softly, "Shouldn't we hear some noise from the camp by now? Something's not right."
As the group gets near enough to the cannibals' camp, Isandril takes a look around in an attempt to spot any guards, before crouching down and examining the ground, as well as any nearby low-hanging plants and tree branches, more closely.
"Odd," he finally says, "there does not see to be anyone around. Neither guards, nor the bustle one would expect from... well, a small village full of rather bloodthirsty cannibals."
"And from what I can tell, more than a dozen of them left earlier today. They went...," he pauses for a moment to look at the signs of passage again, before continuing. "Northeast, where your hut lies, Brynmor."
"All in all," the elf concludes, "too quiet, if you ask me."
It takes a few hours to get down the winding path and once more see the lighthouse above the trees in the distance. Staying off the path this close the group comes to the village from the south and hides in the treeline watching for signs of life. The lighthouse and other buildings loom before them.
Jonagher's adrenaline picks up as he spots the lighthouse again. Testing himself in a life or death struggle against man-eating cannibals and skeletal undead actually brings more of a thrill than any level of personal concern for himself. But he can't help worrying about Origen, Torden, and the others.
'Should we have gone back to our camp like we originally planned?' he wonders to himself, 'I hope my hare-brained idea hasn't gotten us in over our heads. Oh, well...wouldn't be the first time, I suppose. And I'm still around to tell the tales of my misadventures just as easily as the adventures. Of course, I just don't call them that. Everything becomes a successful adventure with the retelling.'
A grin breaks out on his face at that thought, but then he settles down to the business of acting as the group's eyes and ears.
"Shouldn't we hear some noise from the camp by now? Something's not right."
"Odd...there does not see to be anyone around. Neither guards, nor the bustle one would expect from...well, a small village full of rather bloodthirsty cannibals....from what I can tell, more than a dozen of them left earlier today. They went...northeast, where your hut lies, Brynmor. All in all, too quiet, if you ask me."
"I don't see anyone either. And it's definitely too quiet for a place we attacked pretty hard last night. Crafty little buggers," Jonagher comments, "At least we know most of them left for Brynmor's hut like we expected. I'll wager my bottle of rum they left this place trapped. And they've probably got some folks holed up in that lighthouse. It might as well be a fortress to us."
He takes a bit of time to further scan the campsite from the safety of the treeline. Then, he crouches down and draws his dagger to scratch out a quick map in the dirt. In a few moments, he's reproduced a rough sketch of the buildings they can see...as well as what he recalls from his own quick dash to set fire to the main hut the night before.
"Okay. Nothing in the guard tower...that we can see, anyway," he offers, "So, I doubt they have anyone watching from up high. We killed that big lizard over here. Hopefully, the witch hasn't had enough time to animate that thing's bones yet. I saw at least three other skeletons before we retreated last night. It doesn't look like they left with the main group, so we can assume they're still around...somewhere. The one I fought was over here on this side of the main trail. For them to come after us, someone would have had to command them. So, that's probably where our witch lives."
"Back here," he continues, "I've got no idea what these buildings are for...but some of them look like they're close to that lighthouse. I'd like to take a look at them, if possible, just to learn what they are and who else we might be dealing with. Honestly, I think the tower's where the chieftain sleeps at night. At least, that's what it looked like based on that big guy who came out and started yelling at everyone when we set those fires. Hopefully, he led the main group to Brynmor's hut. So, that means the lighthouse might be less defended now. But it might not. Or it might be locked up. We just need to figure out a way into it."
"Before that, though..." he allows, "I think we need to focus on these outer buildings. See if they're trapped. See who else might be there. See if they're holding anyone else prisoner so we can get them out of there. If we get in over our heads, it'll be easier to retreat if we focus on them first, because we can just blend back into the trees. Origen? Yuuwa? You guys will need to be ready to cover our retreat...whether it's with those knockout spells or the misty and greasy stuff. Either one can help us. Torden? You should probably stay here to protect them...just in case. Have a crossbow ready. Isandril? Loan him yours if you need to..."
"In the meantime, Isandril, Brynmor, and I can creep up on this side of the camp and work our way around the outer buildings until we encounter something. I'll look for any traps and disarm them as we go. If we encounter any undead, we'll try and draw them back here to Yuuwa so she can use Gozreh's power to destroy them. Basically, we'll be trying to lure out any guardians that are left. But, if we're spotted...and if any of those cannibals start that drumming again...we'll know we have to get out fast, because the main body of warriors will be high-tailing it back here. If possible, we do our fighting inside the buildings or back here among the trees to hide our numbers and keep out of sight."
"If everything goes okay, hopefully, we kill a few more cannibals, free any prisoners we find, and learn a bit more about their camp and this witch. Also, if we can trim their leadership by rooting her out and taking down those skeletons, I'll count this another successful raid. Then, we can torch another hut, head back to the coast to rejoin the others, and make ready to defend ourselves in case the chieftain and his boys come seeking vengeance."
"What do you guys think?"
Brynmor seems worried by the state of the camp, casting quick glances around and trying to scan the area as efficiently as possible for any signs of a potential trap ready to be sprung.
"I don't like this either... It is obvious by the trail they left, that a good number of them have left as you said, probably to go the hut as we expected. But it cannot be that everyone is gone... The place is too quiet... We should be ready for trouble."
Turning to Jonagher: "Sounds like a plan. Let's take a quick look and then strike fast and hard. That old hag should be a priority if we can get any chance to take her out. We need to make sure though that we keep a viable retreat route clear. I know it might sound paranoid, but I am half expecting a trap... Origen, Yuuwa and Torden should indeed be on the lookout and ready to cover our backs in case things go south..."
He seems to think for a moment and then he adds: "One minor complication though... What do we do if we find non-combatants? The situation might get hairy really fast and I don't want us having a philosophical discussion in the middle of it. We need to decide how to deal with them sooner rather than later."
"One minor complication though... What do we do if we find non-combatants? The situation might get hairy really fast and I don't want us having a philosophical discussion in the middle of it. We need to decide how to deal with them sooner rather than later."
"If they leave us alone, we leave them alone," Jonagher states, "The priority is rescuing any prisoners from a grisly fate, culling their numbers so they can no longer threaten us while we're stuck on the Shiv, and then we leave them behind to live out their miserable lives however they wish after that."
"If we wind up slaying all the adults and there's no children, I'm fine with that..." he hastily adds, "Just so long as long as the adults are fighting back. If they surrender, we let them be. But they won't do that until we've killed enough of their warriors and leaders to cow them. If we run across children, on the other hand...well, I'm of half a mind to rescue them from this fate if they're all that's left. I wouldn't want to see any child die out here alone. And, unlike their parents, it might be possible to save them from this lifestyle if turned over to an orphanage or a caring priesthood."
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Yuuwa stays further back in the brush, within earshot but not risking a peek. Disengaging her shield from the pack and resting it against her calf. The tines of the trident angled above her right shoulder at port arms. In a quiet voice "Aye, Jonagher has the right of it in my opinion. We should try to salvage the kids from this environment. It may not happen and I'll not look forward to ensuing battle. We are the invaders in this instance and my mind and heart are a maelstrom of emotions. Trying to keep it black and white: I am thier dinner or they are fed to the sharks."
She listens to the discussion regarding traps and undead.
"So far thier tactics have been bull rushing, overwhelming force and vicious traps. Since there appears to be no watchers or movement, I suspect traps aplenty. If this is an ambush, I'd be surprised, but just in case, secure any drums you find. Lets clear one building at a time. I favor the toughest one while we are at our strongest."
As a consenus is reached, she'll secure the shield to her left forearm, gripping her trident braced atop the chainshirted shoulder. She motions Torden forward so she may remain at the vanguard.
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The group spends the next twenty or so minutes searching the outlying huts and moving quietly between them.
The furthest hut from the light house must belong to the witch the group encountered the night before. The front room must double as a workshop for all the mess about. Drying flowers, glass jars of odd liquids and animal parts are only some of the odd things to be found.
The second room is some wort of sleeping chamber but how anyone can sleep in such an awful smelling area you will never know. The group gives the hut a quick search and finds only one thing of interest. What looks like a rock to some of the others Torden knows to be a thunderstone of dwarven make. Beyond that there is nothing worth taking or any clues as to where everyone is.
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As they head to the next hut the spot a spider monkey clamoring along a small ledge that encircles the lighthouse.
The clank of armor brings the monkey to a stop and it looks at the group. Excitedly it jumps up and down screeching, and then points to an area between the lighthouse and the main building that caught fire the night before.
The monkey continues to clamor around the ledge moving back and forth as if pacing anxiously.
Origen points at the spider monkey. He whispers, "Torden, can you put that monkey to sle . . . ."
But the monkey's excited chattering makes what he planned to say moot. Origen frowns at the creature. Naturally it's a monkey. Somewhere, a gorilla demon is laughing right now.
But he catches sight of something more interesting than the little animal. "Isn't that . . . a rope? There, next to the lighthouse. And I think . . . an entrance to some underground chamber."
"Brynmor, you've been watching them for a while. Do you know anything about this?"
"Maybe we should check it out. The cannibals may be hiding down there."
"The rope is not the only thing of interest, Origen," Isandril points out as he takes a better look at the hole next to the lighthouse. "I can see a hat over there. The plume may be broken off, but I am willing to bet that is Captain Kovack's hat."
He turns to the rest of them. "I am also willing to bet that there are cannibals waiting for us down there, but perhaps there are some answers to our questions with them as well. Like whatever happened on the ship that led us to being shipwrecked here?"
"You sure it's the Captain's hat? If so, I'm figuring he came here as a dinner guest. That means he's either dead...and the cannibals think his hat might draw us out. Or, he's a prisoner and they just left that thing lying around for some reason while they fatten him up for the stewpot."
"Either way," he sighs, "We'll need to get closer to find out."
He glances once more at the animated monkey above. "That thing seems a little too smart for its own good," he notes, "It keeps pointing at the hut we burned down last night. Like it knows we're the ones who did it. But how'd that thing see us? Can monkeys see all that well at night?"
He finally shrugs. "No matter. Let's finish searching the rest of the buildings. Someone keep an eye on the tower...and that monkey...while Isandril, Brynmor, and I have a look around."
"Brynmor, you've been watching them for a while. Do you know anything about this?"
Brynmor takes a look at where the others seem to focus their attention; the rope and the hat are easy enough to spot. He looks nervously back at the other huts as he acknowledges Origen's comment:
"No... I didn't exactly frequent this place, you see; I was trying to stay low and stay alive."
Nodding towards the pit: "That's your captain you say? Well, that hole sure looks like it could be an entrance to wherever they might hold prisoners. But we shouldn't be too hasty to go down there. Not without making sure there's no one else above ground who might jump us."
Looking at the monkey, he takes out his crossbow and loads. "I don't like this critter at all... It almost looks as if it understands too much. Origen, don't magic users keep small animals sometimes as special pets? Could it belong to that crazed hag?"