Should have said, my ability siphons up to 10hp
Blocking Grit's blow with its axe, the slig that had slashed the mul's back goes down in a flurry of teeth and claws.
Not-Safia takes down another wounded beast with her spear before Raun pulps another with her mighty hammer. As the crushed slig chokes out a last bloody gasp, Nnn'tkklik'l siphons its remaining life force to heal Grit.
Gorkhan's sword kills another, flinging hot blood against the pillar at his back. The final slig appears dazed by the death of all of its fellows and scarcely reacts as Gorkhan follows up with a final blow.
Despite all of the blood painting the sand, only Grit was wounded in the attack and his injury was quickly sealed. The sligs have nothing of value, but you've won your way through their territory. To the west lie the rugged foothills of the Ringing Mountains and, you hope, the druid Durwadala. After camping among the ruins, you head out into the gathering night in search of the thri-kreen's trail.
to keep eyes peeled
to survive
to learn what the new crystal does
to keep tracks hidden
The moment the last Slig collapses a grey cloud wafts away from Safia's form and once it's gone so is her altered shape. She smiles but doesn't say anything.
As her blood starts to cool Raun looks around at the destruction and death of so many sligs, before glancing at her brain splatterd hammer, grinning happily in appreciation. When it is decided that they are to stay there the day she stows her sled, and sets about dragging the bodies well away from the ruins, scattering them around so that any predators will find a slig before they find them.
That done she returns to the others, washing her bloodied arms with sand, and carefully rubbing her hammer down as well, before finding a comfortable place to settle down in what shelter is available for the day.
You wake feeling refreshed after the battle with the sligs and set off into the hills to the west. Durwadala's trail is simple locate and the moons' light guides your path. Soon, however, you sense that you are being watched. Occasionally, a humanoid figure is silhouetted on a neighboring hill. Fast-moving figures seem to shadow your group, always staying well out of range while running parallel to your own path. Wary of an ambush, you advance more slowly as the hills grow more rugged. As the first glimmer of dawn settles across the desert behind you, a figure appears on the path ahead.
An old, bearded human man leans on a wooden staff. His other arm is shriveled, marred by an old wound. A blocky, gray tattoo covers his forehead and shards of shale and obsidian have been woven into his kilt.
"Hail, travelers. Few make it through slig territory looking so fit - fewer still follow such a ... particular ... path," the old man says, eying a patch of fireseed cacti with carefully broken needles - one of Durwadala's signs.
"Do not worry, we share that particular friend," the man says, as the rising sun illuminates the cliffs behind him, as well as the dozen tribal warriors above. "You are welcome among the Stone's Children." He winks. "If the sligs did not eat you, you're likely not to our taste, either."
The old man beckons you to follow him into a narrow passage between the cliffs while the warriors above look on.
"have you seen our friend?"
I'll have to wait until next level for that check unless I can get an assist on autohypnosis.
Also, how does this crystal interact with the other in terms of magic item slots? Both slotless?
The druid will study Safia's bone fetish again both before sleeping and after waking, but nature of the magic eludes him.
Grit follows the old man with caution. Does he recognize the tatoo. Tell us what you know revered one.
Safia plays with the fetish while walking, letting the thing roll through her hands while she examines it.
When they encounter the old man and he speaks of the slig she smiles, "The sligs we met joined the faceless spirits of their ancestors." She doesn't look at the man, instead keeping her eyes focused on the fetish.
Gorkhan remains silent in the back, his eyes wary, looking up at the warriors along the edge of the cliff and then around. Perfect for an ambush... {Then run! Quickly!} ... Shut up... But I'll keep that option in mind.
Gorkhan remains silent in the back, his eyes wary, looking up at the warriors along the edge of the cliff and then around. Perfect for an ambush... {Then run! Quickly!} ... Shut up... But I'll keep that option in mind.
Seeing no opposition, the old man leads you into a narrow cleft in the cliff ahead. At times the passage grows narrow enough that Raun must squeeze sideways, unpacking her sledge so that the water barrel and other bulky goods can be pushed through separately. After about five minutes the cleft opens into a wider ravine, about 100 feet across and open to the sky.
Shallow, man-made caves line both walls of the small canyon, with crude ladders and rope bridges providing access. Members of the Stone's Children tribe peer down at you from the protected dwellings, but most go on with their business after a few curious looks at your party.
Flanked by a pair of scarred warriors - escaped gladiators, judging from the tattoos on their cheeks - the old man leads you to one of the deeper caves on the lowest level. Incense burns in a small bone censer and the hides of various beasts are arranged on the floor in a circle.
"Sit, please. Surely you are tired by now," he says. "I will have someone bring water, so you do not have to tap your own supplies."
"Perhaps you are hungry, too?" he asks, then pulls several long strips of raw meat - erdlu, maybe - from a wicker basket. Laying the meat on a large slate platter, he mutters what sounds like a prayer before slapping his palm on the stone floor. Seconds later, the rock plate glows with heat as the meat starts to sizzle.
"I am Cradokk, earthspeaker and elder of the Stone's Children. The druid Durwadala has long been my friend - his claws knit shut the wound on my arm here."
"I last saw him two weeks ago, when he entered the Maw to search out whispers of an old evil that should have been left to slumber. But I'm getting ahead of myself."
"Since the Stone's Children settled here, we've kept an eye on the Maw, which in form is much like the ravine that houses our tribe but on a much grander scale. Its depths extend into the blackest pits. The songs say it was created during the Cleansing Wars, when the sorcerer-kings made war on elves and dwarves and races whose names are lost to time."
"Some says the Maw swallowed whole armies then. In the ages since it has become home to monsters, although mostly of the minor variety. Gith raiders and scavenging ratmen have been the most common in recent memory. But when I was younger - before Durwadala did what he could to save my arm - the Maw had a darker resident. A defiler from Tyr, a necromancer, spent time exploring the Maw and its secrets. A deadheart and a bonecaller, Dote Mal Payne left the Maw half a King's Age ago, but I've long suspected he left behind more foulness than he found."
"Durwadala shared my fear. When a band of elves recently entered the Maw - no doubt seeking an advantage in their war with Urik's king - I sent word to him. He wasted no time in coming, but I fear whatever darkness he found in the Maw was too much even for him. I only hope you have come in time to save him. That is what you are here for, is it not?"
Accepting the hospitality with gratitude Grit nods. While we had no knowledge of the Maw, we certainly have come to help Durwadala, and to try to find a way to remove magical poison from an oasis near the Dwarven home.
"Yes." Nnn'tkklik'l nods, agreeing with the mul.
Raun takes a firmer grip on her hammer as the figures start to chadow them. These are certainly no sligs... She marches on with the others, looking slowly around, she raises her hammer when the figure is sighted, but slowly lowers it again, resting the heavy head on the sand as he greets them. His gesture to the cactus causes her to squint at it for several moments before recognition clicks into place, and with the situation seeming good and pleasant she happily follows their new allies into the ravine.
The happiness fades somewhat when it become such a trial to get there however; the half-giant grunting and cursing as she is forced to squeeze through the narrow passages and manhandle her cart. She offers to help widen the path to make it easier, but for some reason the offer is declined, and she is forced to continue onwards.
She looks curiously around at the strange dwellings, and upwards to the sky above. It seems nice enough, but the caves are still too small, and it's a bit sparse. "Stone Children need to grow more plants. Be nicer here then." she observes as she follows the earthspeaker to his cave. The offer of meat causes her to lick her licks, but she successfully restrains herself from grabbing the meat and/or stone plate before it is done cooking.
"What we do if we find Elves?" she asks, chewing on a strip of meat, though she has the manners to keep her mouth closed when she does so.
"Durwadala's oasis has been poisoned? Nothing good about that. Hamanu must be concerned about these elves if he's willing to burn bridges with the dwarves, not to mention ruin one of the few water sources in that stretch of the desert."
Cradokk pauses, chewing a strip of meat thoughtfully.
As for what to do with the elves if you find them, I can't tell you. It may be they've stumbled across something they shouldn't, and they won't be a problem. Of course, it may be they've stumbled on something that will make them a bigger problem. They latter may be more likely, considering Durwadala hasn't returned."
The earthspeaker stands.
"I see you've got your own food and water, which is good, because we don't have much more than what is needed for simple hospitality. But our scouts can outfit you with good rope and some bone spikes. And I can give you these, to light your way." Cradokk steps to a pile of fur and hides and returns with a small knapsack made of thick leather. From inside he pulls a pair of fist-sized stones that burn with a heatless light. "They won't burn you, and you can use the sack to douse the light if you have to."
"The Maw's only about two hours hike from here, but you'll want to decide whether to approach at night or during the day. Some of the things that live inside creep about during the day, others are most active in darkness. You can sleep here, if you like, and make whatever preparations you need. If you have other questions, I'll answer as best I can."
The kreen chews the piece of meat he had been eating, then asks, "Of the night and day creatures, which is worse?"
To the clutch, he thinks <<We should hurry as much as we can>>
"For the Stone's Children, the night-time raids by the gith are most dangerous. Little else lives in these hills, so the gith target us frequently. Several of their elders are skilled in the Way, lending their attacks a certain cunning not always present with gith."
"The tari - the ratmen - are more annoyance than danger. They'll attack a lone scout, but are more likely to try to make off with unattended supplies. Sometimes our hunters will down a crodlu from a nearby ridge only for the damned tari to make off with half the carcass before our own runners can reach it. They tend to roam outside the Maw while the sun is up, perhaps to avoid the gith."
"As for what else might lair within the Maw, I can't say."
I feel an urgency to this task Cradokk. Your people are generous to offer us food and water and a place to stay, but Durwadala could be in trouble. We should recover what resources we are able (time to pray for spells, right?) and be off.
If that is what we are doing, Nnn'tkklik'l will meditate to recover power points and mentally prod into that crystal
Safia had been silent. These people were strange to her, living in caves in this harsh environment with sligs as neighbors. They had to be crazy.
When the others spoke of moving on already she hesitated. "I need some time, yes, I can't go right now, it would be unwise."
It takes a few moments, but eventually your thoughts settle into the deep tranquility of meditation. Your consciousness floats out and down toward the psionic reliquary, which appears in your mind as a giant prism made of interlocking strands of light. You find a gap and slip inside.
Your view shifts instantly. You are flying above the Sea of Silt, except the bone-white powder is the dark, blue-gray of slate and it crashes and sighs with regular clamor. An island appears, its sheer walls rising from the sea. Finger-like towers rise from the cliff. Atop the highest one a beacon fire burns, silhouetting a tall man in a faceless helm and lacquered armor.
The figure raises a two-handed crystal blade as you fly near, the weapon glowing a crackling blue as it points in your direction.
“Who are you, that approaches? My watch has been long, but you will find my blade remains keen.”
"I am merely a visitor, I mean no harm. What is this place? Why do you watch?"
“I am the Warden. I watch, I protect, I … Forgive me. After all these years I forget myself." The figure lowers the blade in resignation. The tower, the island and the frothing sea dissolve into a white mist, leaving you and the Warden standing alone in featureless expanse.
"This place is nowhere. A cage or a coffin - no, a cupboard - in which I have slept a long, very long time. At times I have feared my mind has slipped into madness. Whether your presence proves that or indicates otherwise, I cannot say. The images I sense in your mind do not match the memories in mine and I am ... unsure of my purpose.”
"We should be awake when most dangerous things awake." Raun observes, suggesting a night-time approach. "So they not get us while we sleep. Go after sleep"
Consensus having been reached she curls up in whatever space they are offered, keeping her sled close, sleeping with one arm draped over the water barrel.
<<How did you come to be trapped here? How long have you been here? Can I help you escape? Or at least find peace?>>
sense motive
The armored figure considers your words for a moment. Although you can't see his face, he seems thoughtful - and confused - but not dishonest.
"Trapped, no, I was not trapped. I ... volunteered. To keep fighting ... something. Some evil. I don't know why it is not clear."
The figure paces around in the empty space, flagstones appearing beneath its feet but vanishing again with each step.
"We were losing, I think. I was one of the last. I may have been dying ... I took an oath, to endure, to be the Warden. There were others. I could feel them once, but they must be gone, or too far to sense."
The figure shakes his head in frustration.
"My memories are like ill-fitting pieces of a puzzle. I need to see, to sense the world again. Perhaps something will shake loose."
The figure turns to you.
"You must be skilled in the Way to have accessed the reliquary. It should be within your power to bond with it, allowing me to see what you see. Do not worry - I will have no control, but be a passenger only. I may be able to lend you some strength, however."
"I understand. It must be quite disturbing to reach within one's mind and have memories slip through claws like sand. I will provide what sight I can to you. I have some skill in the way, and I am shepherding my clutch on a hunt for my teacher. The path is dangerous, but more so for those of flesh and chitin." After a brief pause, the kreen changes the subject. "When we first met, was the landscape somewhere you remember, or was it a construction of your own design? The world that I have seen looks quite different."
Towards the end of Nnn'tkklik'l's meditations on the crystal whose nature eluded them, he held it with both of his top-claws up to his forehead. For a time, a low hum could be heard by any who were awake near him, and it was occasionally punctuated by a crackling sound that became more frequent as time passed. Though the kreen didn't make any outward signs of pain, when he pulled his claws away, the blue crystal was embedded in the exoskeleton of his head above his eyes. It let out a dull blue glow through the wet sheen of a thin layer of yellow blood.
"We can leave when all of us are at full strength and power," Gorkhan says. "From the sounds of things, this place may require all of our resources."
He glances at the thrikreen and blinks. "Nice toy. Did it hurt?"
"I was out of body when I did it."
Cradokk's cave dwelling provides welcome respite from the mid-day sun, allowing you to sleep and recover from you fight through the sligs' territory. When you wake you find two coils of sturdy spider-silk rope laying next to your waterskins, which the Stone's Children have refilled from their own supply.
Raun's sledge is gone, replaced by a cunningly constructed pack made of staves from the shield and several hide sacks. It contains all of the provisions from the sledge as well as straps to hold the water cask and Raun's supply of extra weapons.
"Our scouts will lead you to the Maw," Cradokk says while roasting a few strips of seasoned meat to send with you on you journey. "They'll keep an eye out for you the next several days, but I can't risk any of my people sending them in after you."
With that, the old man sends you on your way. The Stone's Children scouts say little as they lead you up a treacherous path to a wind-scoured ridge winding to the west. The sun beats down from above the western mountains as the ridge begins angling down. Below, a massive ravine stretches to the southwest, parallel to the mountains. A black slash across the broken hills, it extends several miles from your position, its depths lost in darkness.
The scouts lead you down to the canyon and along its edge, stopping at a wide, sandy ledge that leans out over the raving. A half dozen carved stone pillars rise from the ledge, their ancient inscriptions scoured away to illegible grooves. The bones of both large and small humanoids lay in piles at their bases, and the desiccated corpses of a pair of ratmen have been hung from stony protrusions that jut from the pillars. Scratches on the rock and ruts in the sand below suggest that two other bodies recently were pulled down and dragged away.
Closest to the ravine, a thick rope has been tied around one broken-off pillar, its other end dangling into the abyss. Lengths of bone and bits of wood have been knotted into the rope at regular intervals, creating a crude ladder.
Suddenly, for no explicable reason, Safia stands still near one of the ratman corpses. For a moment she stares at it before she starts rattling away in the same nonsensical language she speaks while meditating. Suddenly the corpse begins to move, or rather it's head does, and from the mouth billows forth a puff of grey smoke. Safia smiles at the sight of it all.
Mere moments after the mouth opens up, though whatever is doing it has to struggle to get the jaw to move. First a black pincer appears from the opened mouth, shortly after followed by another, mouth unsuccessfully trying to further open up the mouth. Safia steps up to the pillar and helps open the mouth. Immediately a smoky gray scorpion runs out and crawls up Safia's arm to sit down on her shoulder, loudly chattering.
At that Safia rejoins the others as if nothing had happened at all while the scorpion made threatening gestures to all of her comrades, with the exception of the Nnn.
grit at first looks concerned, but the smiles and nods approval. A new friend?
Raun squints at Nnn'tkklik'l when she awakes, starting to reach out towards his new gem before changing her mind and poking the same spot on her own forehead instead. When she notices the disappearance of the sled and the replacement backpack she eyes it warily, gripping her hammer as she looks around. When a careful examination of the pack reveals that everything on the sled is still there including some extra supplies she calms down again and tries it out, strapping the water and weapons on as well. The top-heavy feel of it would take some getting used to, but it seemed okay, and she wouldn't have to leave things behind if she had to run after anyone.
She follows their guide as they head into the lowering sun. Every so often she kicks a pebble off the edge out of boredom, pausing to listen to it clatter it's way down into the depths below.
When they reach the ledge Raun steps forward to examine the rope suspiciously, at least until Safia's babbling catches her attention. She watches as the thing crawls out and onto the strange woman's arm. "Will it be Raun's turn to get special friend next?" she asks. One might almost think she was making a joke.
She turns to the scouts then, bending down to pick up the rope. "This won't break when I use it?" she asks them, giving a couple experimental tugs. If it seems sturdy enough and the others are ready to go she'll lead the way down.
"We are all special friends. A clutch." Nnn'tkklik'l observes, deadpan.
Once at the edge of the maw, he will peer over the edge to see if his darkvision can penetrate its depths.
Gorkhan blinks, his blade in hand, as Safia picks up the scorpion. He then sighs and shakes his head before peering into the darkness below. "We're probably going to need a little light."
Safia beams as Grit asks about her new companion, "Yes, isn't it the sweetest thing? I think it said it's name was Svogtt't." She scratches the little scorpion on it's head and it in turn moves away it's stinger as to not accidentally sting her.
Looking over the ledge Safia peers down into the depths like Nnn.
Nothing else from me. I dont know anything about the darklands as a player either.