Loki seeks out a foe fully engaged in the throng of stabbing and tossing of fellow slavers over the side of the small boat. Magic coalesces about his hands and a sickly cloud forms about the man's head weakening the human with disease (disease cloud, 1 damage then 1 damage every second round for 21 round, DC 18 fort to negate, 8/8 hit points, 6/14 mana).
Channeling (vs. highest DC of Defensive Casting & Violent Motion - DC 16):
Fort Save vs. DC 18 (Slaver):
Piter, getting used to the chain, adjusts his swing and tries again. It's now or never, for the slavers would take notice of the group soon... He attacks the same one again.
Attack with chain, two handed
Cleave another if the first one drops
(hp: 6/13)
A pressure wave proceeds Zaruksis' mighty swing, and perhaps it is this wave that warns the attacker that he is about to be decapitated. Contributing to the death of such powerful attackers is tactically wise, since if the two had not combined forces they would instead have two wounded foes very keen on their demise, rather than one corporeal frame devoid of a spirit.
Nogglegrop continues to sink towards his demise (1 damage).
Stabilization Check (10% chance):
The magical cloud of necrotic disease is nothing more than a minor annoyance, but time will tell a different tale.
4 bodies lay on the deck with 4 swords and 4 daggers among them.
Piter makes his presence felt as he caves in the skull of one heavily wounded man, and carries the momentum into another. The other man re-orients to attack the human traitor.
Impressively the party has secured a beachhead of sorts. The aft section of the boat is theirs.
5 slavers remain, and the power of the ex-slaves is definitely something that has been noted.
(awaiting Cakkarak and Kur'Plugh's actions)
Stepping forward, Cakkarak eyes take in the results of the former slaves agaist the soon to been deceased slavers. For not being properly armed and armored they faired surprisingly well. It was a rather pleasing surprise.
The iksar brings his attention to the next to fall to his claws as he silently continues his march through the slavers.
Kur'plugh moves forward, not even bothering to swing with his chains, knowing that flailing about could do more harm that good. He rears back, letting his size assist him he slams his fist into the next closest slaver that he could reach. He gives a grin at the sound of impact, hoping that the slaver falls on the deck.
Kur'Plugh misses by such a wide margin that he would have been hard pressed to have found contact with an octogenarian invalid, let alone a trained combatant.
Cakkarak is unable to find the solidity of the man's flesh on the first strike, but his speed makes up for his lack of accuracy. His second strike hit home, though not as solidly as he might have wished.
None of the slavers has avoided injury, in fact two look ready to drop at any moment, and one looks like he has come down with a cold. As one they turn on the naked, and still bound group.
It is the time of treachery as one of the least injured slavers becomes the most as a shortsword erupts from the base of his neck. From the reaction of the one nearest the dying man it appears as if he held the human fountain in some esteem. The two square off against one another again.
You are faced with 2 of the 4, and though they are heavily injured they are also well-trained.
Cakkarak becomes the target of choice, but the monk is slippery and remains untouched.
Strike Recipient (by Alpha):
Strike (shortsword):
Damage (shortsword):
Strike Recipient (by Alpha):
Strike (shortsword):
Damage (shortsword):
(end of round)
(start of new round)
Understanding the truth of the foes arrayed against them, Loki works to make himself harder to hit (minor shielding, 8/8 hit points, 4/14 mana) and moves as far from the combatants as possible (move action).
Channeling (vs. highest DC of Defensive Casting & Violent Motion - DC 16):
It is a wonderful moment to be an unconscious gnome in the corner of the boat, though Nogglegrop continues to die right in front of your eyes (1 damage).
Stabilization Check:
From the number of triangular fins the actions on the boat have attracted it appears to be unwise to consider any swims in the near future. Truth be told these cauldron sharks will doggedly pursue the group to the ends of the Norrath.
You feel the bumps as their bodies slam into the wooden sides of the very fragile hull and understand that getting low, making no movements, and especially shutting up are all that will keep you alive.
One rather brutal bump takes everyone by surprise, as its force is enough to crack wood.
Reflex Save (Cakkarak):
Reflex Save (Kur'plugh): (pass)
Reflex Save (Loki):
Reflex Save (Piter):
Reflex Save (Zaruksis): (pass)
Cakkarak, Loki and Piter follow 3 of the slavers into the Timorous Deep. The least agile of the group, Kur'Plugh, manages to remain on board with dexterity that belies his size. Both he and Zaruksis face off against a single opponent.
Reflex Save (Slaver 1):
Reflex Save (Slaver 2):
Reflex Save (Slaver 3):
Reflex Save (Slaver 4): (pass)
The sharks circle and it will take strength to get out fast (full round action with STR check vs. DC 10 will put yourself back into the boat).
Loki moves far too slowly (already expended actions for this round).
(Piter)
(Piter)
(Slaver 1)
(Slaver 1)
(Slaver 2)
(Slaver 2)
Piter:
Slaver 1:
Slaver 2:
One of the two slavers lands in an unfortunate position (critical failure) and immediately pays for it. The seas run crimson, and his screams assail your ears.
(tag PCs Actions)
The bumps against the bottom of the hull spur Zaruksis to grab on to an oar still in its lock, using it for leverage to hold him against the floor of the boat -- and that's all that saves him when an especially hard bump sends most of the occupants flying. "%$#@!" he exclaims, before realizing that there's only one opponent left between him and helping the badly-wounded gnome that can keep him alive in the killing chill.
The cold-blooded shadow knight swings the other oar hard with both hands, missing horribly as he shivers. "%$#@!" In desperation, he ignores the lone human, kneeling by the little healer to try and keep Nog-whatever from dying. Zaru turns to the big, strong ogre. "Never mind the slaver! Help the others out! The more of us the better!"
...for damage.
Heal (first aid):
hp 5/12, AC 14
To say that Cakkarak was surprised to find himself back in the cold, uncaring embrace of the ocean was an understatement. The glowing shapes of the huge sharks cutting through the water helped to wash away the surprise. The sight of two of the sharks playing a short game of tug-o-war with a slaver did little to make him want to stay in the salt water any longer.
With a kick of his legs, Cakkarak pushes himself through the water. The monk was finding a little hard to think clearly. The crystal clarity that he normally enjoyed was dulled ny the mistreatment of his body during his time as a slave. And the cold was doing it's very best to freeze his muscles.
Spying the floundering dark elf, Cakkarak swims by the caster. The monk throws out an arm, catching the necromancer around the torso. Cakkarak uses his powerful legs and tail to speed them back to the surface and near the longboat. The necromatic magics of the elf could be very useful. If they survived.
Cakkarak's eyes land on the slaver struggling to climb back up the railing. He would back the perfect ladder for the iksar monk to claw his way up.
Piter feels the combined shock of the cold dark water and the deadly threat of the massive death machines within it. Only one thought comes to him now, that of getting out of the water. He scrambles to get back on the boat as quickly as he can. Despite his size, he is quite agile as well.
Str check to climb out of the water.
He rolls onto the deck of his new ship, and then peeks over to see if any of the others need a hand, or a chain. A bite from one shark would likely do any one of them in for good. It might be interesting to see such a thing, both to see how effective the bite is up close and to see the reaction. But for now, he wanted all to survive to ensure he would survive.
(hp 6/13)
Zaruksis is able to forgo attacking to keep Nogglegrop from passing into the great beyond (stabilized).
It is a bad day to Piter, for he has attracted a great deal of attention from some very powerful animals. This is not the time for his muscles to fail him, for if he is unable to get into the boat in a single motion it is likely that he will spend eternity as shark shit.
The human shadowknight is equal to the challenge and falls into the boat like a sack of bones held together by hate.
Cakkarak grabs the floundering necromancer, and uses the slaver as a makeshift ladder (counter aid another -2 to STR check for slaver 2), permitting both wide-eyed iksar and dark elf the land heavily in the boat.
The slaver would have escaped the water, but the monk's action slows him just enough that a shark is able to grab hold of his calf. Roiling water becomes murky with his body's fluids.
Strength Check (Slaver 2):
On the other side of the craft, hidden from view, one of the slavers had worked his way back to the boat faster than the sharks, by a fraction, and started to climb back in.
Initiative (slaver 3):
But it was to no avail, he did not have the leverage (failed STR check) to get back in. He is pulled under without a sound, and with no one even realizing what happened to him.
Strength Check (slaver 3):
Seeing all of the other slavers dispatched so easily the remaining slaver, looking quite sickly, throws his hands in the air and surrenders. His wounds are grievous, nearly as bad as Nogglegrops.
(end of combat)
Exhausted, Piter rolls on his back and lets out a big sigh. Then he looks around and notices the swords, and moves to grab one while talking, remaining on his hands and knees. "Good job, everyone. You're all strong warriors. And necromancer, of course." He nods at Loki.
"I'm ashamed I was only able to brain one of those bastards before the ship threw me into the drink."
He moves to put on the sword, but realizes he has no belt, indeed he has no clothes. Feeling suddenly cold he scans the bodies for the best, warmest clothes and crawls toward them.
"I am Piter, in case any of you didn't know my name... Try to stay low."
Kur'Plugh grunts, then catches the railing of the boat keeping his place by shear strength alone, hearing Zaruksis tell him to help the others out he gives a snort. Annoyed, he reaches over to grab the dark elf, by an arm or his hair, Kur'Plugh didn't care, to bring him back on the ship. Holding on to the railing for leverage he gives another grunt while lifting.
Icy sea spray stabs at your exposed flesh.
Nogglegrop breathes on his own. He is quiet, which is a blessing considering his proclivity at snore-laced slumber.
Aboard the slaver's life boat (LINK) you find:
- 6 daggers
- 4 shortswords
- 2 long swords
- Blood-Stained Clothing for all save Nogglegrop (Kur'Plugh is partially covered with fabric from two different men)
- 6 barrels of ale
- Enough food, packed in sacks, for perhaps a month eating
- 5 dead bodies
- 7 blankets
- 1 sickly and heavily wounded slaver
- 1 unconscious gnome
- 5 oars
- 1 tent
- flint & steel
- 17 torches
- 4 pieces of women's jewelry
- 4 platinum pieces
- 58 gold pieces
- 40 silver pieces
- 71 copper pieces
The sail is partially raised and tossing you about based on the storm's whims. If anything you would be more stable if the sail was lowered, which is an easy proposition, even for landlubbers. A single strong gust of wind will capsize you, and you all know that you will not survive long in the waves.
If you drop the sail then you will be subject to the whims of the storm-roiled waters. Winds, and icy winter ocean waves, darkness, and thick fog that skitters across the water with cruel intentions, all conspiring to reduce visibility to perhaps a hundred feet.
In short order you can see no sign of the ship or monster. It is the stuff of nightmares, and the waiting is the worst.
You are all covered in the blood of the fallen, for it has pooled in the bottom of the boat and is nearly everywhere. You must keep your voices to a whisper and your movements as gentle as possible, for anything else attracts the attention of the frenzied cauldron sharks. Suffice to say that moving about while still having an 8.0 pound chain attached to your wrist is not conducive to avoiding the shark's attention.
Hungry sharks bump into the boat nearly consistently.
Zaruksis relieves the surrendering slaver of his weapons, rapidly strips a corpse, pulls on the pants, and wraps himself in a blanket. Throwing a blanket over the gnome, the shivering iksar straps on a longsword and dagger, then whispers. "Piter. Do you still have that key? We should probably lower the sail, and it would be easier without this chain."
Piter checks his balled up fist to see if it still contains the key he was holding onto, or if it had not survived his discharge from the ship a minute earlier.
Keeping low, he loots some bloody clothing from a few bodies and puts it on himself., straps on the longsword he had collected, and grabs a dagger to add, and a blanket which he wraps himself in like a cloak.
Noting the sail pushing the ship around in the storm, Piter crawls over to the mast, then looks at the sail to see which rope should be used to lower it. "I agree we should lower the sail," he says to the others. "Then maybe we can rest."
"Can you think of any use for the dead bodiesss, or should we toss them overboard? It looks like we have plenty of food without them." While they talk, Zaruksis does his best to keep track of the direction that they're going. "And is it possible to pitch a tent in a boat? It's c-c-cold!"
Piter still holds the keychain.
The sail is lowered.
Bodies are stripped and their weapons are relieved of them.
The surrendered slaver collapses as Loki's spell continues to rot him out from the inside.
Sharks batter the boat with each movement or sound.
Zaruksis is confident that they remain in the Timorous Deep south of Kunark.
Carefully stripping a corpse of it's clothing, Cakkarak dresses in the ill fitting clothing after tearing a hole in the breeches for his tail. Finished, the Iksar braces himself and looks at the others.
"I see no need for the corpses. There seems to be enough food. Let's get ride of all at the same time, rather then one at a time," Cakkarak says quietly. "They might think that bumping the boat will reward them with fresh meat if we heave them out one at a time."
The Iksar monk thinks for a few seconds, his cold eyes staring at the dead weight.
"Perhaps, rather then heaving them out, we should lower them in. I am unsure, my experience with sharks is limited to a few minutes of swimming with them and sailor's talk." the monk admits.
"But first, the sail," Cakkarak looks over the mast, rigging, and the sail itself. The monk picks his steps carefully, staying low to help keep his balance. Although the seas had calmed somewhat, the regualr thumps at the bottom of the boat told him enough. They had more to worry about then a storm at the moment.
"After I begin to lower the sail, we should dump the bodies," Cakkarak says as he looks for the rope that he figures should lower the sails. Mentally, he chids himself for relying so much on the sailors, and not observing what they did more closely. "Unless there is anyhting I might be forgetting?" Cakkarak looks at the others briefly.
Piter tries the key on his own manacle first.
Kur'Plugh shivers, glad to have something that would help keep his body warmer then not wearing anything. Looking at the gnome his stomach gives a growl, wishing that he could light a fire and start grilling the gnome, giving a sigh, Kur'Plugh drapes a blanket over his shoulders, helping to warm himself up.
" I dunno, what about that wheel looking thingie, that got anything to do with sailing." Kur'Plugh chimes in, wanting food, an ale, sleep, then time spent with the spirits, knowing that it might be a while before he get's any of what he wants.
Congealed blood and frozen seawater make the dead slaver's clothing uncomfortable, but compared to naked flesh any clothing is a blessing. Two thick wool blankets are draped over his shoulders and head as he moves forward to gather supplies.
Loki grabs 3 torches, the flint and steel, a sack of food, and dagger. Cramming food into his starving stomach, he starts the tedious process of cutting one of the closest slaver's arm off.
His soft blue eyes flit back to the man slowly wasting away to his diseased cloud.
Death and its related horrors do nothing to the Teir'Dal's frigid heart.
Slaver shackles are removed leaving only Nogglegrop's shackle still about his wrist. There was no key that fit the tiny shackle, not that it mattered much, since only a very short, and bloody swim awaits him if he decides to try to escape. The idea goes around to keep the little guy blindfolded, at least that would stop him from being able to cast any offensive spells. Nogglegrop remains unconscious.
Bodies, one missing an arm, are tossed overboard. This creates all manner of activity in the water as the frenzied cauldron sharks feed anew. For a moment you have a moment's peace from the constant horrors of the sharks bumping against the boat.
Time passes in silence as everyone dresses, gets settled in, and the full impact of what just has transpired becomes apparent. No sign of the ship your traveled upon, and more importantly the dragon that sunk it, can be sensed.
His shackle off, Zaruksis finishes dressing, then takes a sack of food and starts eating. He watches the dark elf cut off a dead man's arm with idle curiosity. "What's that for?"
Words sashay about the expansive wad of hard tack that the necromancer had jammed into his face, "A reagent for my magics. A shard of bone and marrow sacrificed within the casting to produce a skeletal minion."
Loki pursues his words with a spell (minor shielding: +2 hit points/AC, 8/8 hit points, 1/14 mana), and though the first is lost, the second attempt finds purchase.
Channeling (vs. DC 16):
Channeling (vs. DC 16): (success)
It is an awkward birth as the bloody shard of slaver's bone disappears and in its place appears a small skeletal construct.
Loki hands his pet the 3 torches, and ensures that they are all held together, and works on lighting the torches for warmth.
Days drift past before the nefarious group sees a bit of sky not entombed by the storm. The reprieve is short, but the storm's fury never returns to the same intensity as you had experienced right next to the sea dragon Faydedar.
Iksar recover at a preternatural rate (fast recovery), and Zaruksis and Cakkarak are no exception. They are at full capacity (full hit points) in a surprisingly short amount of time. It takes longer, but the rest of the motley gathering also recover to full capacity (full health, full mana). Bellies filled with hard tack and ale, mixed with clothing, weapons, a craft, blankets and the heat from a torch flame do much to buoy your spirits.
While the iksar are perfect predators in the water, they suffer with the cold far more than anyone else (cold vulnerability).
After their meal of slaver the sharks have become even more aggressive, reacting to even the slightest movement or sound. Those that refuse to simply stay still risk everyone's life, for the first to test the dedication frenzied cauldron sharks have to their next meal almost lead to a capsizing of the boat.
Nogglegrop remains gagged and silent. Soft sobs wrack his tiny naked body, when he is poorly treated, especially when someone decides to cut him for sport, but he is wise enough to not call much in the way of attention to himself.
On a particularly blustering morning, where visibility is almost nil, you feel the bottom of the craft scrape against something beneath you. You almost cry out at the betrayal of noise, having all become accustomed to silence, and living in your own thoughts. The horror of the constant shark attacks have been so commonplace that you have been waiting for the one that ends it all. This one is different, like rocks, or coral, and before you can fully process its import you bash into a cliff.
The sharks are no where to be seen, and handholds are surprisingly easily found (DC 10 climb check). This is your chance to drop anchor, grab all of the supplies and get away from the vessel before the sharks react to the noise.
Loki scrambles up the cliff like he was born to do so (critical success). Otherwise, even the blind Nogglegrop (-6 to climb) is able to pick their way up the rocks without trouble, though your fingers are worn raw by the bite of the chill. You crest the top and stand knee deep in snow atop the lowest part of the mountain plateau, fully in the fury of storm.
Kur'Plugh:
Loki:
Nogglegrop:
Piter:
Zaruksis:
Tearing off his gag and blindfold the gnome enacts a plan carefully considered, though likely suicidal, over the course of days. He simply dives off the cliff yelling a single word. The gnome mistimes his jump and/or poorly judges his weakness, since he bashes against the rocks multiple times before he is out of sight. The splash reveals the truth of his death, well for all but those that understood the import of that word.
A faint bit of smoke stink finds your noses, and then it is gone.
Beneath you is a goblin's cave, and it is burning feces for fuel. Its chimney is perhaps 200' away, though you know none of this.
(please provide a colourful synopsis of your activities as of late, and what your character took from the supplies in the boat)
A blanket wrapped around his frame helped some, as did the clothes, but Cakkarak was still bitterly cold. He had never been as cold as he was currently. Still, it was much better then being in the water, or chained to the ship, or eaten by a dragon. Or sharks for that matter.
Cakkarak's cold eyes hungerily roam over the stores of food. The monk then runs a calculating eye over the others, mentally gauging how much they might consume.
Gathering a meal, Cakkarak eats in small bites. The Iksar had been so strictly trained that he was ready to battle without being distracted by food. His body greedily absorbed the food that was finally making it's way to his stomach. Cakkarak couldn't actually remember the last solid meal that he had eaten. He vaguely remembers the heavily drugged mush that had been force fed to him.
The Iksar's cold eyes watch the necromancer's magics calmly. Cakkarak had not seen anything similar casts within his presence before. But, given that the dark elf was a necromancer, it wasn't a terribly big surprise.
Finishing his quick meal, Cakkarak takes several deep drinks of water. Both the food and water would help to flush out the toxins still lingered within his body.
Piter took the coinage and sorted it into piles in the middle of the boat for all to see. Then he divided it all up so that each of the five received 1 platinum, 10 gold, 4 silver, and 14 copper (Piter received no platinum but 19 gold and 14 silver, and Kur'Plugh received 1 platinum, 9 gold and 14 silver; both received 14 copper). If anyone questioned him, Piter patiently explained the value of each division and how all were receiving the same value. Getting along with others, smoothing the path and improving others' impression of him was almost always a prime motivation for Piter.
He had held up the jewelry and inspected it to see if it was worth anything, and had offered to carry it until such time as it could be sold and the proceeds evenly divided.
Next, he had crafted a crude sack out of one of the blankets, using just a strip of cloth to tie it off. In the sack he had put three torches and as much food as would fit. He had left the flint and steel for others if they wanted it (perhaps the cold-blooded Iksars, he thinks), but took it if nobody wanted it. He still hung onto the key, and his own manacle and chain.
He had found himself wishing he had spent more time camping, or traveling, in order to gain some skills to help him survive. But it was too late to dwell on that; he must move forward now.
Finally, he had spoken to Nogglegrop privately, suggesting Piter would petition to free him once they all reached civilization again. Also, that it was not his decision alone, but if the gnome helped them during these hard times it would certainly help his case. "We are in tough positions, being the only members of civilized races here," he had said, and had given him some food and water. Piter figured there was more than one way to gain help and support, even from a slave.
---------------------
When he leaves the boat, he ensures all the ale is taken off the ship and put in a secure place on the rocks, above any tide lines he observes. The same is true for the tent, any torches, blankets, oars or food not taken by individuals.
Appraise check on women's jewelry:
Spellcraft to determine what the gnome's word meant.
Considering the small size of the boat, and the silence the group were forced to adopt, Piter's actions/words with the slave were potentially seen, though the boat was not the place for an argument, if anyone disagreed with his choices.
(Piter include a bluff check and hide check in your next post)
(Everyone else: include a sense motive and listen check, with a -4 modifier due to the storm, in your next post)
Piter was checking on the gnome's wounds while whispering quietly to him.
Hide
Bluff
Kur'Plugh spent a good portion of his time watching the others, it seemed that the human Piter was dead set on being in charge. Kur'Plugh cared little about the need for others to follow his view point, staying still was what Kur'Plugh wanted the most, the sea didn't make him feel too great. Kur'Plugh preferred the forests, bettre places to hide and make ambush points. At night Kur'Plugh would look at the gnome, trying to decide when he was going to eat the gnome, and how he was going to cook him.
Noooo don't eat him, sacrifice him to us the spirits whispered to him, giving a shake of his head, Kur'Plugh kept his thoughts away from the spirits. He noticed that Piter had spent some time looking over the gnome, not caring about whatever the human was saying to the gnome. Kur'Plugh kept on meditation for his Mana, healing himself to full first, he then checked on the others.
The next person who was healed to full would be the monk, after all Kur'Plugh knew that he had shown himself to be useful, then everyone else as Kur'Plugh felt the need to pass time. Gathering up a sack of food, a flint and steel, the coinage that the human had given him and a shortsword, he needed something to skin a gnome with.
Kur'Plugh turns to the gnome after the climb up, getting ready to grab him and knock him out, when the little treat up and jumped over the cliff, growling at the loss of his snack Kur'Plugh, looks at the others and says " Look, it's still cold outside, let's find some shelter and soon, the last thing I wanna do is freeze out here."
Listen:
Sense Motive:
Loki snaps his head around as he hears the word of magic, and watches the gnome's descent with an unreadable little smile played across his handsome features.
Spellcraft:
Drawing his blanket tighter about his body, he moves closer to the rocks to shield himself from the bite of the wind.
"I smell smoke."
When the bone of the slaver's arm disappears and a little skeleton appears in its place, ready to serve its master, Zaruksis is suitably impressed. "Nice! I hope I can do that someday." An odd statement for such a brutally physical man.
The budding shadow knight occasionally cuts the gnome just to make sure that it's still alive, just in case he needs some healing, but otherwise tries to move as little as possible -- until their boat crashes into a cliff. The strong iksar carries as much stuff up the rock face as he can -- beginning with the tent and some bags of food, and ending with a few torches and a couple of barrels of ale.
Then the gnome throws himself off the cliff, casting a short-term spell of immunity to harm as he went. But Zaru didn't really care, since he wasn't the one that wanted to eat the little snack, and it smelled like there was shelter enough that he wouldn't need the little healer. He tries to find the source of the pungent smells.
Sense Motive:
Spellcraft vs. DC 16 (Nogglegrop):
Wilderness Lore:
The rusted shackle was cast far asea the moment it left Loki's raw wrist.
Days drifted past in soft repose for the contemplative Teir'Dal, gathering information about those around him. Loki was suitably impressed. They were each exceptional specimens of their respective races, with training that only made them more deadly. Such beings would make worthy traveling companions, as long as they could suppress their innate selfish inclinations long enough to be effective.
Pearl-white teeth flash in response to Zaruksis revealing himself as a death knight. A monk, shaman, and whatever the powerful human was, yes, this motley cross section of the nefarious races clinging to the spinning surface of Norrath would make fine travelling companions.
Human skin and sinew is meticulously peeled back in long strips, balled up and thrown far behind the boat. Shards of bone are snapped free and pocketed, until the necromancer has sufficient supplies for several skeletal constructs.
His immortal pet moves for the first time in days, snapping free from the pathetic enclosure of ice that had sought to restrict its movements, grabs a short sword and returns to its post. None would approach its master without his leave. The dark elf had moved to the front end of the boat to ensure that none would get behind him.
Never one to care about meals, the arcane spell caster jams food and ale into his awaiting gullet as an afterthought. The coins are taken, and pocketed, with pragmatism, but no real lust. His passion was power and his aspirations divine.
Armed with the dagger, enwrapped in a dead man's clothing, entombed in the embrace of two blankets, he prepares for the trials ahead.
Taken:
- Dagger with Sheath
- Shortsword
- Bloody Clothing
- PP: 1, GP: 10, SP: 4, CP: 14
- (2) Wool Blankets
- Several Finger-Sized Pieces of Bone
- Days of Hard Tack Iron Rations
Leaning against the rocks, he speaks up so the others can hear him over the wind, "Anyone have any ideas as to our next move?"
Piter hears the normally quiet Teir'Dal ask a question, and waits a little before he responds. He sits on a rock and eats some of his dried meat.
"First, we need to survive. Water is aplenty in the snow we see. So food and shelter are next. If there's a fire nearby, that could mean a settlement. I think we should approach carefully, without being seen. Whoever has the fire might be Human or Elf. Or Iksar or Ogre or Teir'Dal. Sorry Kur'Plugh, what do your people call themselves?
After that... our boat?" He looks to see if he can see the boat. Is it destroyed on the rocks? Or adrift at sea?
"Or by land, but that then begs the question - where are we? I hope we are on Antonica, then we can just walk somewhere. If we are on some gods-forsaken island, we could be here a while."
Piter's questions were interupted as the wind started to pick up, as the light of the morning starts to get dim. Looking up at the sky, the clouds are turning dark grey. Trying to weather the upcoming storm in the ship isn't going to be a good idea. More then likely everyone would freeze to death waiting out the storm.
Zaruksis, after traveling 30 minutes you find the source of the smell, a cave is right under neath your feet with smoke coming out of the lip of the cave. Looking over the cave lip you see a few places where even Kur'Plugh could hide without too much issues. Peering into the cave you see a small tribe of goblins huddled together with a fire going, the smell of cooked meat hits your nostrils. It appears to be about 12 goblins, although there are a few large furs in the corner of the cave. The cave is large enough to hold the tribe and have space left over.
Kur'Plugh looks at Piter for a moment and then says " The spirits say shelter is close, and that nature is bringing the frozen rain." His voice has an ethereal quality to it, as if someone is borrowing his vocal cords. The ship that you arrived on isn't going anywhere without some serious work and repairs. While not taking in any water, it is deferentially beached, cradled on the rocks, it would take a gang of Ogre's a day of pulling and pushing just to get it back on the water.
Wilderness lore DC 16 will let anyone know how long they have until the sleet storm moves in.
Cakkarak had torn a hole in the blanket and now wore it like a poncho. He found it helped to ward off the cold and still allowed the greatest degree of mobility.
At some point during the journey, the iksar happens to be near the gnome. Crouching down, Cakkarak, drags his claws across the gmomes back. With litle effort, his claws pierce the skin, leaving lines of blood in their wake. The monk looks at his claws, mentally marking the depth. Now that he knew the thickness of the gnomes skin, he grabs his rations and moves back to his original spot.
The monk had spent most of time sitting near motionless. It wasn't until one observed the monk for a length of time, that one can see he is actaul moving. Cakkarak scales actually seem to shift as he works on fine muscle control. He spots Piter near the gnome several times.
The Iksar thinks very little of the human interactions with the gnome. Cakkarak figures that he is discribing the horrors that will await in the Ogre's stomach.
When the longboat parks itself against the rocks, Cakkarak wastes little time gathering his meager amount of supplies. He didn't know if the boat had any holes in it, and the monk didn't feel like wait around to find out.
After the climb, and suicide of the gnome, Cakkarak looks around at his new surroundings. It left something to be desired. But it was better then being stuck on that damn boat, surrounded by hungry sharks. Cakkarak notes that Zarukis had smelled something. By the look of his nostril slits, it hadn't smelled pleasant.
Inhaling a few times, he looks around, seeing if he can aid the other iksar. At the Ogre's odd sounding voice he looks over at the large creature, raising an eyeridge.
Cakkarak you think that the storm is 6 hours away from hitting the party
Kur'Plugh clears his throat, rumbling " we have two hours until the first wave of the storm hits this part of the island, we have little time. It will be sleet for hours then snow." Shaking his head as if to clear it, he lifts his sack of food, then looking at the monks' clock he says " Clever, indeed he is a clever one."
After an hour of wandering away and back, Zaruksis returns. "Good news! I found shelter. Bad news, it's occupied by goblins. About a dozen. I suggest we take it together, kind of like the boat, since there's a sleet storm coming in about an hour..." He sees the expressions of the others. "Oh. You already knew that. Well, their cave is only half an hour away, so we have a little time to decide what to do."
"Well located, such a shelter is crucial in such a harsh environment, for I feel we would be hard-pressed to survive the night otherwise. Please lead us to it so we might best plan out our next move, and see what tactical advantage can be gained."
A shivering and exhausted Loki lowers his head into the frigid winds, letting his double blankets take the brunt of the bite, and moves off following Zaruksis' trail towards the cave.
The necromancers dark summoned minion, bearing as many of the supplies as it can carry, tirelessly follows seemingly unaffected by the chill.
The length of the journey was a complete surprise, making the necromancer wonder if they had smelled another fire, for he was dubious about whether the winds could carry a smell so far during the initial stages of a storm.
"Sounds like the cave is are best chance of survival," Cakkarak says quietly. The monks cold eyes never stop moving, and his body language suggested that he expected to be attacked at any moment. Of course, that could just be the Iksar's normal behavior.
"A small tribe of goblins? That shouldn't present us with too much difficulty," Cakkarak says, looking over the others. "Much better plan then trying to weather an ice storm without any shelter."
The Iksar monk turns looks at the other Iksar present.
"Lead on."
"Sounds like a great plan. Shelter, fire, possibly food, and goblin slaughtering. Thoughts of those things will get us there faster than thoughts of sleet and wind. Great initiative, Zaruksis, for trekking out while the rest of us were resting. Let's take as much of the ale as we can, shall we?"
Piter smiles and picks up a keg of ale.
Everyone agrees that moving would be the best course of action, grabbing what you need everyone starts the trek to the goblin cave. As you get closer to the cave make a move silently check if you wish to sneak up on the cave, too not alert the goblins inside.
Zaruksis actually had to scale the cliff three times when they first arrived, since the improvised sling that he made from a blanket could only hold so much. It was easy for him to lift a keg of ale, and even to move up a steep rock face with one on his back; but the containers were so bulky that he could only carry one at a time (and nothing else with it) while climbing.
On the trek back to the cave, however, the amazingly-strong iksar carries one keg under each arm as only a moderate burden. Indeed, the sling on his back is as nothing even though it holds the tent, plus some food and a few torches. They discuss tactics while easily following his distinctive tracks, since he (of necessity) followed Cakkarak's example by cutting a hole in the trousers for his tail.
When they get close to the goblins' lair, Zaru puts down his load, and motions for the others to do the same. "We're there," he whispers.
Knowledge (monster lore [humanoid]):
Strength check to lift a keg: Take 10 + 6 ⇒ 16
To lift a second keg: Ditto
Sneak:
The innately stealthful Loki picks his footsteps carefully both to avoid detection, and also to avoid a misstep on the frozen ground.
Hide (Loki):
His skeletal minion is less focused on avoiding detection.
Hide (pet):
He stops once they are close enough to view the cave, and finds a hide from which to draw as much information as he can about the cave and its occupants, paying special attention on any advantage they might glean.
The one called Zaruksis had mentioned that there were "about a dozen" goblins in the cave. Loki would like a more accurate accounting.
To the others he whispers, "A storm sounds like a perfect backdrop to launch an offensive if all can hold on for a bit longer."
Despite their clothing and blankets the chill cut them all to the bone, but it was a mere inconvenience compared the potential ramifications of a flawed stratagem.
Kur'Plugh nods, keeping as quiet as he can, hoping that the coming storm and the wind will help hide everyone's footsteps, glad to no longer carrying two barrels of ale. Kur'Plugh keeps hearing the whispers of voices, he can't quite make out the words that are being said, every since the party arrived on this island, he could feel something growing around him. Almost as if the restless dead and their souls are fueling something that only Kur'Plugh can sense.
The trek up the path wasn't too difficult, tiring through, carrying two keg's of ale, wasn't something that Kur'Plugh enjoyed. He felt more like a beast of burden, at least what little ale Kur'Plugh was going to drink tonight, might make him feel better at being cheated from eating gnome steak.
Piter puts down the keg with relief. After catching his breath and stretching his muscles, he whispers to the others, "If we can block the cave entrance, they will choke on their own smoke. It would be like a present, to us." He smiles a warm smile. "But I agree with Loki, it is better to wait until the storm. That will ensure all the goblins are inside first."
He looks to the cave and its environs to ensure there is no smoke exiting from other locations.
The smoke is rising from the cave entrance alone, no other possible exit for the smoke is coming anywhere else. Trying to block the entrance would take more time then you have and not enough rocks that would be easy to move.