"Did not see Durwadala. Oasis still poisoned." the kreen says matter-of-factly, yet with a hint of sadness.
Raun scratches her sweaty brow as she stretches up on tip-toe to peer over the wall. "Why do houses not have roofs? That's whole point of houses." she mumbles to herself, but given her size the others can likely hear her, dwarf included. She looks at Grit, the kreen and the dwarf as they seem to recognize each other.
"Why did dwarves take water from bad-oasis?" she asks the gate guard, needing to sate her curiosity.
It is I. the mul states. I hoped you would have news of Durwadalla for us. He is not at the oasis and I thought he might have sought shelter here. How is my mother? And what do you know of the poison at the oasis? We seek information and shelter for the day.
"Shelter we can provide, but information will have to come from the uhrnomus," the guard says, referring to the village's founder and leader, Lyanius. "Come inside and I will take you to him."
The great gate of mekillot bone creaks open and you are ushered inside. As you march along one of the village's main streets toward the center, you are struck by the lack of activity. Only a few dwarves labor in the hot sun, shaping bone staves or herding fat aprigs into the shade. In open-topped homes you pass, you see dozens of dwarves sleeping fitfully in the shade cast by crude tents made of stretched hide.
The guard leading you sighs and shakes his bald head. "It is shameful to hide from the sun's light and sleep away the day. But the water shortage has left us no choice - most of our folk labor at night, or not at all, so they can drink as little as possible."
You arrive at a larger building near the center of the village. A patchwork of hides has been stretched across the tops of the walls, shading the interior from the sun. The guard raps on the door and calls inside to announce your presence. A moment later another dwarf, this one an aged woman, opens the door. As she leads you toward the center of the building you pass several shaded chambers filled with sleeping children.
The center chamber is dominated by a circular stone table, around which several benches sit. As the old woman ushers you in, an equally aged dwarf male - his skin stretched taut and thin across blocky features - is wiping the brow of a younger male dwarf asleep on a low bench. The younger dwarf's brow is marked by a stylized sun, and he appears to be ill.
The older dwarf, Lyanius, turns to you. "My son, Caelum. He's been able to cleanse some of the tainted water from the oasis to add to our reservoir, but it taxes him greatly. He has been pushing himself too hard." After sparing a glance at Grit, he adds: "I see you have encountered the cursed waters, as well. Hamanu's magic is strong, and I fear his dispute with the elves may cost us all dearly."
Lyanius crosses to one of the stone benches surrounding the table and sits down. "I had hoped you would bring word from Durwadalla, but it appears I have seen the oasis druid more recently than you. Tell me what you know and where you have been and I will answer your questions. Perhaps together we can figure out a way to restore the waters before we all dry up and blow away on the morning wind."
Grit nods and tells his story, introducing his new friends at the appropriate time. He even introduces the cat as he tells about the wyrm they fought but failed to kill. And so, when we reached the oasis we found it like you saw it. I tried to cleanse the water, and succeeded in a way. The poison attacked me physically and I thank my dwarven heritage for my surviving it as well as I did. It seems the this magical poison must be consumed to remove it. After I recovered as best I could we followed your tracks back to the city. It was my hope that you has found Durwadalla at the oasis and brought him back here with you.
So I would know why the oasis was attacked and more about who did this. I have studied the magical poison and understand it as well as I might, but since it is not fully a thing of nature I have no idea how to safely remove it and no expectation that its strength will fade with time like an organic poison would.
Raun follows the rest through the strange village, peering curiously around at the slumbering inhabitants. She's about to ask why the buildings don't have roofs but have shade-cloths instead when the guard comments on it himself. She's still confused why they don't have roofs but holds her tongue for now.
When they reach the house she pulls herself awkwardly through the doors, still dragging her sled behind her. The process does little to improve her mood. When they finally reach their destination she sits herself down on the floor and glares at the sick dwarf and the man tending him, waiting impatiently as he and Grit talk. She'd been trained not to interrupt, but then neither of these men were her master, or meant anything to her as more than fellow survivors or potential explorers.
"If we find Dwadlla he be able to fix water?" she interrupts at last, mangling the druid's name. "If we find way to fix oasis then we can stay here? Work with dwarfs?"
Safia kept to herself most of the trip through the Dwarven town. She had never seen so many Dwarves in the same place. Actually, she had never seen so many Dwarves.
She was thankful when they were led into the shade inside the building that was home to the elders. Seeing the children in the same house put a smile on her face. It was poetic, both the start and the end of the cycle in the same house.
"The lion is what taints the oasis, in a more direct way than one would expect. It his his essence that is in the water and that is what attacks those trying to cleanse it. There has been much death there, the spirits linger on the same spot on the other side."
"That could well be, child," the uhrnomus says, favoring Safia with a worried look. "My hope is that Durwadalla knows some way to cleanse the waters. Otherwise, we may be forced to ask the Lion to lift the curse himself. I shudder to think what he might ask in return."
Lyanius shuffles around the stone table and peeks at the sleeping children asleep in the next room before continuing.
I last saw Durwadalla when Ral was waning, about three weeks ago. The druid had been visited by some messenger - he did not say who or what - and had an urgent need to travel west, toward the Ringing Mountains. He mentioned that you, Grit and Nnn'tkklik'l, were visiting Urik, and said that if he was needed, you would be able to find him. 'The land will show my sign,' were his words."
"Please, find him and bring him back. Without the oasis, our village will cease to exist, our folk scattered to the winds or doomed to remain as banshees."
We will go Lyanius. We can leave at sundown and will do our best to find the druid and bring him back to you. We have our own water. Can you spare some food and perhaps equip us a little better for the trip? We may have some things to trade.
"Yes, of course. I will rouse some of our craftsmen so they can work as you sleep. And here, take this," Lyanius says, before moving to a stone chest built into one wall of the chamber.
Lifting the lid, he pulls out a long, thin bundle wrapped in oiled leather, which he lays on the table. Unwrapping it, he reveals a pair of gleaming, broad-bladed daggers large enough to serve as spearheads.
"Steel, he says reverently. "Return with Durwadalla and I will arrange for an additional reward. But these may help you on your journey."
The aged dwarf shows you to a shadowed room in the central complex then leaves to make the required arrangements for food, armor or weapons. You settle in to sleep, wondering where the next day will take you. When you wake, the halfling, Zok, is gone, having made off with one of Nnn'tkklik'l's waterskins. In its place, the halfling left behind two leather coin purses (4 sp, 27 cp total); a silver House Stel ring (worth 5 sp) and the trader's enchanted soapstone medallion (1/day, gain +10 to Sense Motive for 1 hour but -2 to attacks and saves for the same period).
Gorkhan, With help I have finally been able to unlock the secrets of this blade. It is called Swift Bite in Elven. See these runes here spell it out. It holds powerful enchantments and will bite into your foes more deeply than a normal blade, even one that is enchanted. And when this blade strikes a critical blow it will haste you momentarily allowing you to move with magical swiftness covering a great deal of ground or attacking again. It should also make you harder to hit and your blows harder to dodge when moving so.
vs DC to identify the crystal that was picked up (aside from the first one he picked up that gave +2 autohypnosis)
Nnn'tkklik'l comes up to the group, particularly Grit.
Having known him a bit, you can tell that he is somewhat distraught, but has an idea
"The plight of our dwarf friends hurts me. Our troubles have taught me things. Our clutch must help the dwarf-clutch. Durwadala would want us to try anything in our power for them. I have meditated deeply on the problem before us all. After deep thought, I have found a path through The Way that might protect Grit as he cleanses the water. It will take much of my power, as cleansing takes much of his. Others may also provide guidance. Succeed or fail, we should leave to find Durwadala after."
The kreen then leans forward, looking each party member in the eyes.
In your mind, you hear the following in the kreen's voice, but rather than his slightly broken common Athasian language, you hear it in whatever language you most commonly think to yourself in. <<I can talk to you in our minds. Through The Way, we can share our thoughts using my mind as a path. I can open and close the path when necessary.>>
Gorkhan looks at the blade, tracing the runes upon it. "Interesting... This could definitely come in handy. My thanks for the information."
"If we are connected like this," he asks of the thri-kreen, "do we run the risk of being infected by the Lion's curse as Grit was when he cleansed the water before?"
<<No. But I can force enemies into my mind-clutch and use their vitality to heal our wounds. When they are in the mind-clutch, they can also speak to our minds.>>
Raun glowers angrily as her questions are seemingly ignored, but is too weary and uncomfortable after the night's travel to vent her frustrations on the dwarves. She starts to struggle her way back through the building before her temper does get the better of her and she yanks part of the temporary roof away from the wall and simply climbs out of the low building.
She takes a few minutes to stretch her legs before finding the others and climbing into the building provided to settle down for the night, grumbling about dwarven hospitality.
She awakes that evening as if none of it had happened. She still seems uncomfortable in the dwarf-sized structures, but it doesn't seem to be getting her ire up by itself.
When the kreen stares at her and she suddenly hears his voice in her head she frowns, rubbing her short haired scalp. She still wasn't quite sure what to think of his access to her thoughts, but she was somewhat aware that his mind had been with her in some of their battles and afterwards coaxing her body into healing itself much faster than she ever had when Kjarros had injured her in training. The instinctual urge to rebuff attempts to manipulate her mind, and the associated distrust of such things remained however.
"How we going to find Dwadla? What dwarf mean land will show you signs?" she asks, looking at the Druid.
<<Oh, I like this communication by thought Nnn'tkklik'l. It is a great gift and will make us a stronger clutch. I am willing to try to cleanse the waters and perhaps the dwarves will appreciate it and supply us with the gear we need to succeed. Raun, I have a sense of nature about me and can follow tracks well in the sands. If my druid mentor wants to be followed he will leave us signs in the landscape that I can read. He has taught me well. I pray that I have learned his lessons well enough. >>
The first thing that pierces through the mind link from Safia is an overwhelming feeling of dread accompanied by a grey blanket covering everything, making the world seem dull and lifeless. It only lasts for a fraction of a second before it evaporates. <<Sorry about that. I have to learn how to handle this and not burden you with my visions of the hereafter.>>
Rested and freshly equipped with dwarven tools and dried food, you set out after Durwadala at dusk. Grit's repeated castings of create water allowed you to replace the extra water drunk the day before and a little more, but not enough to fill the new waterskins you obtained in Kled.
Once outside the walled village, Durwadala's trail is easy to spot. A pair of flat rocks subtly arranged to form a "V" and an old leg bone - turned to expose the side that had not been bleached by the sun - are just the sort of signs the thri-kreen used to teach Grit and Nnn'tkklik'l lessons in the past.
Traveling at night will make it more difficult to spot Durwadala's trail, but the signs near Kled clearly point the way west, toward the Ringing Mountains. Gathering your gear, you head that direction as the last rays of the sun fade over the desert landscape.
There. Our first sign Grit says as he picks up the leg bone. Following will be harder at night but I believe we can do it.
Raun sleeps late that evening, relaxed by presence of walls and the noises of so many people nearby. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed that. The journey through the desert had been good--she'd gotten a chance to really test herself against the world--but it was so wide and empty...
By the time she awakens it seems the others have already been out and about trading and talking to the dwarves. She looks beligerantly at the sled which they seem to have taken the liberty of dumping things on, but when she actually takes in what is on it the look fades. She picks up the earthbreaker on the second try, adjusting her grip for the weight of the thing and rests it across her lap, reverently running her fingers over it's broad spike-studded head. She'd never had a weapon like this before... hammers yes, but nothing this impressive. She also seems to have doubled her spears and gained a large roll of leather, which proves to be filled with strange tools including a needle made of metal, on which she promptly stabs herself.
Sucking her thumb she bundles everything back up, and turns her attention to reloading the sled. She eventually takes everything off, lays the shield she'd formerly been using on top of the other, and reloads the rest of it. She still find it a bit harder to drag when everyone else is ready to go, but the food would get eaten and lighten the load as it had the last time. She takes the time to fill her new waterskins in case something makes off with their barrel again--but successfully this time--and drags her sled out after the others.
When Grit draws her attention to the sign she squints at it, before squiting at Grit. "Anybody could have seen that. Even me." she observes, and sets about peering around for any other signs as they start to put the town behind them. Once it fades beyond sight the others are treated to variations of "Is that one?" every twenty to thirty minutes as they travel onwards.
The kreen walks with the group, spear in one hand like a walking stick, unknown crystal in the other, and working the chatka in another hand almost like a fetish. His remaining hand is at the crossbow slung on him, keeping it from clattering around along with the one full waterskin and two empties. He remains relatively silent, conserving his concentration for the task of finding the path.
Gorkhan roams around the outskirts of the party, making short thrusts further away, scouting.
The first night traveling from Kled passes uneventfully. Although Ral is waning, Guthay casts enough of a greenish glow over the desert terrain for you to find and follow Durwadala's trail.
The path leads ever west, and you wager you'll be in the foothills of the Ringing Mountains in another day or two. You see no other travelers, although at one point you hear the roaring of what you think was a b'rohg, a type of brutish, four-armed giant known for stalking caravans and lone travelers.
As the sun rises, you make camp in a dry wash filled with crackling spider-brush. Having conserved their spells for the day, Grit and Safia are able to conjure enough water to allow all of you to fill your new waterskins without greatly draining the large cask. You sleep and wake again at dusk ready for another night's travel.
Durwadala's trail is as easy to follow on the second night as on the first, but you find other signs, as well. As you pass through a small field of boulders, you spot srude totems made of cracked bone hanging from the spider-brush that grows in the rocks' shade. After finding and examining several piles of dung - a few days old, at most - Grit is convinced that you've wandered into slig territory.
Wiry and covered with coarse, patchy hair, sligs are voracious humanoids known for a certain animal cunning. Their bodies are unable to store fat, so they are in a near-constant state of hunger and tend not to mind if their food is still squirming - or screaming - while they eat it.
You could try to skirt the slig's territory, but it could take days to work your way around the area and there's no way to be certain you could pick up Durwadala's trail on the other side.
(keeping eyes peeled for signs of enemies and enemy ambushes)
(to find Durwadala's tracks and provide for us as we go, if doing so will not hinder our progress)
to avoid being seen (make our party numbers appear smaller to attract less attention.
<<What does clutch think? Avoid slig territory safer, but then maybe not see Durwadala. Through slig territory easy to find Durwadala, but sligs likely to ambush us. Our clutch has one less warrior, but has better tools to fight.>>
Raun grows bored of picking out signs halfway through the night's travel and simply trudges on despite her boredom. When they make camp that night she settles down, stripping off her armor and pulling out her new set of tools, setting to work on improving the quality of the jury-rigged alterations she and Grit had made to it, pulling it back on to sleep curled up with her hammer.
When they reach the slig signs the next night she peers down at them, rubbing her head as the kreen speaks telepathically again. "Go through. Want to try out hammer." she observes, grabbing her hammer off the sled with both hands and peering around at the horizon as if expect the humanoids at any moment.
<<We must follow the trail, even through this area of slig lands. >>
<<With the poison being as it is, I doubt we can risk the time to go around.>>
Despite her best attempts to restrain it, the occasional visions of what Safia sees when she peers into the Grey still seep into the clutch from time to time, though never to the same scale as the first time.
<<I don't mind. Sligs die like anything else, their minds enter the Grey, quickly fading. I'm not afraid.>> Safia clutched her spear tighter as she spoke. She felt power surging through her, someone this trail is where she was supposed to go, this was what would lead to her success.
Seeing glimpses of the grey gives the kreen new-found zeal in healing his friends, anything to ensure they dont pass into the grey.
Darting among the shadows, Gorkhan scouts the rocky terrain ahead of the main group. Aided by the mental whispering of his psicrystal, he spots at least a dozen sligs ranging across the area in groups of 3-4, scouring the land for anything edible.
The mangy creatures are moving slowly, focused on their search for food, so it shouldn't be too difficult to lead the group past. But the sligs will almost certainly pick up your scent after, likely within minutes, an hour at most.
As the moons set, Guthay silhouettes a ruined wall on a low ridge to the west. You think you could make it their by dawn - with the approach to the ruins on the far side of the cliff, the sligs would have to loop around and attack with the rising sun in their eyes.
Alternatively, you could make a break for it, head west and hope to outrun the sligs. Leaving behind some of your food or water could serve to distract them long enough to make escape possible.
The kreen is in favor of making them attack us at a disadvantage.
Grit favors this as well...
Guided by Gorkhan, the party picks its way through the rock-strewn badlands then breaks into a run, making for the shelter offered by the ruins atop the ridge.
Howls of excitement erupt behind you as the sligs catch your scent. Crossing the cracked remains of an old trade road, you glance back to see a dozen figures chasing you, the pre-dawn sky behind them outlining their gaunt limbs and the crude weapons they clutch.
Rushing around the sheer face of the ridge, you begin clambering up the scree-covered slope toward the ruined village. The remains of old stone walls crumble under your feet as you make the climb, the hungry cries of the sligs growing closer by the moment.
Once at the top of the plateau, you quickly assess the terrain ahead. Several low walls - all that remains of some unknown structure - offer cover. Beyond, a pair of stone pillars thrust up from the ground with curving ridges of sand in between. Another ruin, reduced to little more than a stone foundation, lies to the east of that.
Quickly, to the building ruin. Form a line. Grit says as he moves in that direction leading his new feline friend.
Nnn'tkklik'l will attempt to hide in his surroundings, hoping that the sandy coloration of his carapace aids him well enough to not be on the receiving end of the initial slig assault.
<<I will pull enemy into mind-clutch, use their vitality to heal us.>>
He will wait until one of the sligs is in medium (130ft) range or is visible (if they arent visible until they are closer) and will try to force them into the collective (DC 15 Will negates). After the sligs initially attack a party member, the kreen will use Drain Health to pull HP from the slig to an injured party member.