Xanyon nods his agreement with Muqaq's plan.
"Now that I've this..."
He hefts the musket.
"I'll be firing from much farther away."
N'Dateh shrugs at Xanyon's comments.
As long as you do fire when it gets rough... she thinks for herself.
She remains on her horse as they move through the city, eyes scrutinizing nooks and crannies in search of baddies.
+1 Desert if applicable.
Gruthic is in good spirits after his visit with the cleric. Hope is always a reason to celebrate.
He cleans his breastplate and speaks with Muqaq about putting some of the spoils of battle to use.
"I have often kept an inventory of my wares in my mind. I have a good head for it. I purpose to act as your quartermaster for such time as I an in your employ. Saying so, three are some items laying unused that could help us in our fight. Seif should wear this breastplate from the gnoll rats, and I wish to claim the ring blessed with Desnas's graceful descent. It will be useful in scouting should I need to make a quick exit from a rooftop. There is also a potion of mighty strength that Seif should carry, as our strongest blademaster."
"Sounds quite reasonable to me," Muqaq replies to the dwarf. "Make it so. I would remind you that we are both in Lady Almah's employ, I am simply your commander for the moment."
The trip to back to the village is relatively simple; the team once again crosses the old ruined pesh fields, moving in and out of the few remaining cacti on their way around the city, towards the shrine of Nethys, and its strange attendant. Approaching from the east, you move into the lower city unimpeded. Whereas before you had become somewhat accustomed to seeing signs of life, now little or nothing stirs, except perhaps the odd bit of movement in the vicinity of the Battle Market itself. The rest of the town seems still, and perhaps even a little deserted.
Once the lower town is gained, you begin to move into position, readying yourselves to search the buildings, in the pattern laid out for you by your field leader, Muqaq. The first structure he has indicated is a large, but mostly burned out ruin. However long ago the fire destroyed the place, the ceiling partially collapsed into the remaining space, leaving only a partial shell of the building remaining. An old ruined sign bears the legend, hanging above the gaping entrance on the north side of the building. From the outside, nothing appears to move within the structure, or nearby.
N'Dateh nods at Muqaq's signing and lets Guthric go forward. She keeps her horse behind to avoid making too much noise.
Akhom has his bow drawn, an arrow nocked, covering Gruthic's approach. His concern for his friend is submerged by his concentration and the rising tide of battle-fury in his chest.
Gruthic will be moving as quietly as he can, with his axe out and his shield stowed.
Moving into the dark interior of the ruined slave market building, Gruthic is greeted by a variety of chilling sights; piles of chains here and there, rotted ropes and whip and prods, and even a length of chain, still connected to the ankles of skeletons, partially covered in rubble. It would seem that when the building burned, some of the slaves were abandoned here, unable to run due their bindings, and died as a result. Whether the fire killed them, the smoke, or the collapsing roof is unclear, but what is evident is that no one came to help them, either during the crisis, or after.
His darkvision enabling him to see within the shadowy enclave, Gruthic at first sees nothing of interest; the building seems devoid of threats or treasures. However, after a moment, he becomes away of something silently moving. What at first appeared to be piles of glossy black charcoal to his monochromatic dark sight are revealed in fact to be scales. What he initially took to be a thick timber is actually the round body of some scaled creature. Taking in the size of the thing, some 18 inches across, Gruthic is forced to hold his breath as his mind wraps around the girth of the monster, and attempts to extrapolate what the thickness might tell him about its overall length. Staring back from the darkness, he becomes aware of two glossy eyes, each the size of his hand with fingers splayed. The dark scaled features of a massive snake resolve as the thing continues to adjust itself, coiling as if to strike while its eyes make contact with his in an unbroken glare. The smooth features of its head begin to widen, forming into a crest some three feet across.
Gruthic's gut clenches involuntarily as the giant snake rears in the darkness. He gulps, his mouth rendered instantly dry.
"Torag, shield your faithful servant," he prays as he fumbles with the straps on his shield, trying to ready it without provoking the cobra into striking.
"Giant Cobra in here, Muqaq!" he hisses, hoping the noise doesn't startle the snake. "I'm backing out. Watch for its blinding spittle."
Moving slowly, very slowly, Gruthic backs his way out of the building. Each step brings with it the urge to turn and bolt, but in the intellectual part of his mind he knows this would be the worst thing to do. However, the animalistic urge to run is hard to ignore. After what feels like an eternity, Gruthic feels sunlight on the back of his neck. One more step out and to the side, and he is safe; the snake has not followed.
Such creatures eat rarely, and conserve energy between meals by sleeping most of the time. It seems this one was not particularly hungry, at least not right at this moment.
"We'll have to slay the beast eventually to retake the town. Want to prepare ourselves and then kill it now? We can use ranged attacks to draw it out, and you and Seif can flank the door attacking it as it emerges, Gruthic." Muqaq says after the dwarven scout makes his report.
"Maybe better to wait? The snake isn't going to sneak up on us and if we attack we could earn serious injury. I'd rather take out the gnolls and worry about the snake another day. Your call, of course."
"What do the rest of you think?"
"If the snake is currently sessile, we should leave it be. The Gnolls are our primary concern; we can come back for the snake later."
"I'm in favour of leaving it as well," rumbles Akhom quietly in his deep baritone. He ticks his points off on his fingers. "It can't raise the alarm; it's unlikely to trouble us if we leave it; the noise of battle here could betray our presence; we risk injuries and death in every battle; and it's just a dumb animal that's done us no harm. I see no reason to take life unnecessarily," he shrugs. "But if it's decided that it's in the best interests of our mission..."
"If the snake is currently sessile, we should leave it be. The Gnolls are our primary concern; we can come back for the snake later."
ˈsesəl,-īl
adjective
1.(of an organism, e.g., a barnacle) fixed in one place; immobile.
"I cannot emphasise enough how big the snake is." He holds up his hand, fingers splayed. "This. This is an eye. This is no cobra that lays as long as a man. It is massive. Bigger than that boar we fought. Much bigger. Best leave it lie. Fighting the snake will be tough enough without drawing out the gnolls to fall upon us as well. Let us deal with them, and then deal with the snake in our own time."
N'Dateh smiles as she looks at Guthric's splayed hand: "Can we bring the gnolls to the snake; kill two gnolls with one snake?"
What would lure them in there? Do they know about the snake?
"If it's that big I bet we get more than 2."
"Then let's continue on to the next building."
"Agreed; that would seem to be the wisest course..."
The next building on Muqaq's search plan is a mill . The wheel of this roofless mill still turns with the flow of the river, but it does not appear that the machinery is engaged, for the wheel just spins without resistance. Again Gruthic enters the structure alone in order to scout for threats. Within a moment he signals for the rest of the team to follow, for there appears to be nothing living here.
The interior of the structure is a mess. Mud cakes most of the ground, and a mess of both feathers and fur can be found. The nest or den of some creature most certainly existed here, and from the mix of detritus, it soon becomes clear that this must have been where the peryton dwelt when not searching the skies. Slivers of crushed bone abound, much of it bearing cuts like those from a sword or axe, so it seems it was fed by the gnolls, rather than needing to hunt much for its own needs.
A search of the area turns up a few pieces of mundane gear, such as scraps of rope, a soiled bedroll, a shredded pack that likely once contained foodstuffs, but now has only a few pots tied to it, all of which are sound however.
It is Seif who turns up a blade, a longsword still in its sheath, though the length of the same is caked with mud and scat. Pulling the blade free however shows a blade of remarkable quality. If checked for magic, it shines with just such an aura.
Though it appears little else might be present, Gruthic's keen eye catches a glint of something else. Caked in the mud, he finds a small golden ring. It too appears to be magical.
N'Dateh nods as she recognizes the peryton's dwelling.
A dangerous creature. But why would such a magnificent beast associate with gnolls? Did it come so low as to allow to be fed? It deserved to die then... You don't take the Desert for granted. Not for long anyway!
Seif-al-Din checks over both items, noting that they are magical.
"The sword is enchanted with a minor aura, one to allow you to hit more effectively; I am afraid that I cannot identify the aura of the other one..."
"I'm not sure either."
The half-orc shakes his head.
"Nothing I know anything about, sorry. Glad that things gone, cost us too much though."
N'Dateh stares at them: "The Peryton died; it had taken life for granted. This is Gnoll territory. Let's not make the same mistake. Stay focused!"
"Trust my nose to find the gold. It's in my blood."
"We should move on. The faster we take out the remaining Gnolls, the better."
"I agree," Muqaq says, and makes his way out of the building.
As the team moves out towards the next building , the only other structure on this side of the river, in addition to the mill, a few features become evident. The large building is mostly intact, and sports a solid roof that while not exactly proof against leaks, does not look soon prone to collapse. Numerous colourful pits are cut into the ground, all around the structure, measuring a few feet square perhaps two feet deep on average. Those native to the area, as well as those familiar with the production of leather from their own crafting talents with armour or the like, recognize this as what would have been the village tannery.
When the village was occupied, hides would have been soaked in these pits along with urine, other acids, and the colours of the dye that the tanner wished for the leather to take on. While the liquids have long since evaporated, the colours remained, hardening, and colouring each pit permanently of the last shade used within.
As you draw near to the structure, odd smells waft near on the air, foul smells of something boiling, and wisps of smoke escape the chimney. Whatever is contained within, it appears that there has been activity here recently, and the structure may even have someone still within.
Wrinkling her nose, N'Dateh turns to Muqaq: "Any way to make this faster? It's a big city..."
"We should still do a proper sweep; do not let a foul odour deter you..."
"No, there is no other way. We must ensure the entire village is free of threats. Gruthic, go on inside and find out who's in there working."
"I'm on it. They can't hide from me."
Gruthic enters same as always. Shield stowed for stealth, axe out for trouble.
The door to the old tannery is unlocked, allowing Gruthic to slip in without any trouble.
Amidst an array of boiling cauldrons, and small pots boiling over a wide variety of small stoves and fires, stands a hideous, feral looking woman, but with ragged feathered wings extending from her back. She is nude, and while her face is hard to linger on for any amount of time, her body is incongruously comely, with smoothness of skin and fullness of bosom that speak of youth and vitality. Below the waist, her skin fades away into more ragged feathers, as bird-like legs take over from otherwise human anatomy, ending in leathery betaloned gripping feet.
She looks up at the intruding dwarf without apparent alarm, and smiles, revealing yellowed, predatory teeth.
"Well hello there, friend. I was not expecting visitors, but I must say, the sight of you is not unwelcome. A man is always welcome in Undrella's home; and what a man... I must say, I've always had a curiosity about dwarves; so much masculinity compressed into such a compact package. Tell me master dwarf, what is your name, and what brings you to call on this poor, lonely maid?" Each phrase is uttered breathily, as though she thinks that by tone alone she can seduce you.
"They sound friendly. Gruthic should be fine, yes?"
"What do you suppose they tan here? What kind of hides?"
"Hopefully not ours," Muqaq says drolly.