As the group made their way toward the camp, Algret found herself walking with a lighter step. The weight of the day's events still pressed on her soul but the closer she got to their temporary home, the easier the burden became to bear.
Her thoughts went to the children. 'Had Kefir gotten himself into trouble? Would Sabha keep making progress or retreat into her shell without her?'
Only a day away and she already missed them. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered that her life would come to this. At least not at this age. She couldn't help but smile.
Her reverie was broken as they broke through the foliage onto the beach, and instantly her eyes began combing the area for signs of the little ones.
*Ma-Aati!. The word rang out across the crowded beach and the young lad Kahir came running across the shingle sand to thump into Algret. He was only a lad of around 7 years, but he still came easily to teh dwarfs chest. His hug was enthusiastic and strong, carrying teh energy only youth can show. Algret wrinkled her nose at the smell of his unwashed body, dirty from cleaning fish and shucking oystes all day.
More quiet, but eqully as enthusiastic she felt a small hand reach up and grab her own. Little Sahba had come to greet her as well. Her little rag doll was held in her left hand, its appearence looking more dwarven every day, thanks mostly to the new cut of the hair the girl had given it. Algret smiled.
**Vik had always been uncomfortable around large groups of people. When the refugees rushed towards teh party, returning triumphantly from teh jungles, he growled a little and stepped back defensively. Most of the on coming folk got the hint and the human wave broke around him. The big Ulfen was about to turn away and stalk off to the shelters when he was struck solidly from the front.
A womans body pressed closely against his, her soft flesh warming him in a way he wasn't ready for. Soft lips found his own and the girl gave him such a passionate kiss that the big man was left reeling momentarily. When the kiss broke, he found himself looking down into the eyes of the girl who Khelleshite girl who had brought him refreshement the day before. Her smile was coy, but her breathing was deep and a rosy glow flushed her cheeks. She stepped away from Vik, her hand resting lightly on his chest for amoment before it too trailed away and she stepped back into the crowd. just betore she disappeared completely, she called back "I'm glad you've come back", then her melodious laughter disapeared down the sandy stretch of beach.
***Bo Dan smiled at the reaction they were getting from the crowd. She felt almost heroic, though she wasn't sure they deserved the accolades. Beside her Paeras hand suddenly clenched tight and a small swear word escaped her lips. Bo followed her lovers eyes and saw her staring at Vik. The big man was being embraced and very passionately welcomed back by a young woman. Bo's heart sank a little when she realised it was Khraisi who was bestowing the boon. The eldest girl of the family he had sworn to help moved away from Vik, and for the briefest moment, Bo Dan was sure she threw a contemtuous smile her way.
Before she could act, another voice interrupted her thoughts. "You made it back! Did you succeed? Was there danger? Are the orcs all dead or did you convince them it was silly to fight us?" Eliisal, the youngest daughter had bubbled up to the pair of half elves, her enthusiasm causing her words to run together almost uninteliigably.
****Milhar wasn't greeted by overwhelming hugs or brazen displays of affection. Some of the woman folk smiled and patted him on the shoulder, but mostly they were just calling questions. He was surrounded by people all talking at once, and suddenly found himself with a burning headache. It had been throbbing dully for a good half an hour now, but the overwhelming noise and sudden glare of the sunlight brought it crashing to the fore of his thoughts. A pulse of concern came from the pack where Sen had returned for the journey back to the beach.
Before the sorceror could really address the issue, the deep and commanding voice of Captain Venn cut across the corwd.
"Stand back all of you. Get back to your wok and let them through. We'll have time for them to tell their tale around the camp fires tonight, but for now let them get sorted."
He moved along the beach, direting folk back to their prospective roles and campsites. Whe he got to the small group he stated simply "Good to see you back. When you've got yourself sorted, I'd appreciate a rport on how you did. There's food and water in teh main tent, for now its yours."
The day before, aboard Vixen
Captain Venn looked at this strangely dressed man who adressed him so boldly. The spectacle of his walk across the deck alone spoke volumes to the experienced traider and he took a wary tone as he replied. "Well, I'm glad to see you have recovered your senses."
He looked towards the beach, where campfires and tents were springing up in earnest now, a small enclave of civilisation against the feral backdrop of the volcanic island and its wild jungles.
"As you can tell, the majority of the refugees have made their way to shore already and are busy gathering supplies. If you really want to help, get yourself ashore when I return there and help gather and prepare food. We have groups out already doing other work, when they return we may have other tasks. Howver, this is no place for one who cannot handle themselves. Given your recent convalescence, you'll forgive me if I don't immediately send you into the jungles."
He smiled broadly at teh statement, trying to make it sound like a jest, though Symington could see the wary look in his eye as he addressed the wizard.
The captain turned to Pietr and seemd curious. "Now you I have seen around boy. Mjobo told me you have been useful belowdecks. The old seas dog even thought about taking you along with him, but decided against for some reason. If the tow of you prove useful enough working the beach, we'll see what else pops up when our other groups return".
With that the captain turns and leaves, effectively dismissing the tow of them before disapearing into his cabin and shutting the door.
Cynthia's story
Fleeing
The morning had started like any other. She had tossed back the sheets of the bed she shared with Kyle. The big man had already left the house, she had vaguely heard him walking out a few minutes before but hadn't heard him return. As she moved naked around the building, enjoying the feel of the cool mornign air on her flesh, she had heard a strange noise outside the small window they had built into the wooden shack.
She opened the shutter a crack, trying to see outside without being seen herself. It was most likely that young scoundrel Phillipe, the boy was always trying to catch glimpses of her when she was undressed. He was only 14 though, and it didn't worry her too much, but if Kyle found him he would beat the boy within an inch of his life again. She didn't want that.
As the outer light crept through the crack in the shutter, she caught a glimpse of movemnt. A shadow flitting across the light, and a strange scratching coming across the timber and shingles of the roof. As goosebumps raised across her now chilled body, she carefully pressed her eye to the narrow gap. The sight that greeted her terrified the young Warlock.
It was Kyle, lying on the ground convulsiing in a spaasm of death as green froth bubbled from his lips. A great spider was perched on his chest, the thing was about the size of a rottweiler, and it was turning the dying man around and around in its hairy legs like he was a rag doll. Great strands of sticky webbing were entangling her lover, as the spider wrapped him in its cocoon.
A shadow fell across the window again and a shiny chitinous leg suddenly burst hrough the gap, causing Cynthia to scream and slam the window shutter completely closed. There was a crunch and a spray of green ichor as the leg was severed from the beast. The staccatto sound of drumming spider legs beat a tattoo on the shingles as a strange keening noise echoed through the shack. She fell back from the walls and window, rushing to the door and securing it with the latch Kyle had put in only days before. Something big hit the door just as she finished and it rattled on its hinges. She could hear a number of them now, all scrabbling outside the room, hardened legs scratching at the timber and that keening noise continually piercing the air.
It had gone on like that for an age, Cynthia lying on the floor too terrified to move. After a while the noises had stoppped but she still hadn't moved. She thought she had heard a scream at one stage, but she hadn't been able t respond.
Another shadow moved across the doorway, and small voice called out. "Cynthia? Cynthia are you in there" It was Phillipe, his voice cracking in fear and terror. "Cynthia, please let me in. They're all on the other side of the viillage at the moment. They're attacking the tavern. If they see me I'm dead. Please"
Genuine laughter bubbles up from the depths of Algret's soul as she recieves the assault of affection. Dropping her shield she welcomes Kahir's hug as she catches up little Sabha in her other arm.
Wrinkling her nose as she ruffles the boy's hair she chuckles, "You stink my little warrior. Have you been opening oysters? We have to make sure you have a bath tonight. Vik would tell you it is easier to stalk when your prey cannot smell you coming."
She holds Sabha tight, reveling in the sensation as the little girl throws her arms around her neck. "Did you miss me little one? We have returned just like I promised. Shale and I missed you too. What have you been up to?"
As an experiment she connects to the dall in her pack, allowing the warmth of emotion from the children to flood through the link.
As she hears Vik's growl she glances over, unsurprised at his reaction to crowds or the parting sea of poeple that follows. The girl's actions however are a complete surprise. Algret's grin grows wider at Vik's dumbstruck expression.
It appeared that the Orks were not the only ones that appreciated the Bold warrior.
Pietro's heart swelled with pride. Me, Pietro Blanco. Me, chosen to go to the captain. He was a young man approaching his eighteenth summer, good-looking even in his worn leather jerkin and wellpatched trousers. Raven black hair, doe-like brown eyes, broad cheekbones, and a square chin composed an unremarkably handsome face. And why not me, who better? It was the sensation of the smile, the separation of his lips, the up-curling of the corners of his mouth, the sheer luxury of delight in himself and his election, that brought him back to himself. The smile was overwhelmed by a frown. For the others. Not for myself. To serve them because I can.
The others were the poorest refugees aboard the ship. Four or five families of farmers who hadn't even owned their own land. Of all the refugees on board, it was hardest on the poorest. They had the least education, the least experience of anything other than their old life, of anyone on the ship. More than anyone else, they needed the material pillars of life. And those were all gone, swallowed by the Horde.
They were worried. Most of them knew nothing of the sea. Even if they hadn't lost their homes, even if they hadn't lost their families, even if they hadn't lost friends, jobs, possessions, all that anchored them in their life, all that tied them to their communities and gave life meaning, even if they hadn't lost all that, they would have been worried. They were scorned by the crew for their ignorance of all things nautical, and so were denied one more thing that had always been inescapably present in their lives. Work.
So the refugees were worried. Having escaped the Horde, they were trapped aboard the ship with Ulfen and bugbears. The sailors told them tales of terrible hazards and monsters in the sea and on the jungle island by which they were now anchored. The uncertainty was the last straw. They wanted information.
To get it they needed an emissary. A council was held. Three candidates were considered. Pietro's father, Sempronio, put himself forward. The head of another family did likewise. They were at loggerheads, neither able to persuade a majority to vote for them when one of the teenage girls suggested Pietro. There was a brief spate of laughter, but the older women considered it and concurred. In their eyes Pietro had quietly distinguished himself during the voyage. He spent most of his time tending the sick and injured among the refugees. They knew he could read and write because they would sometimes see him in a quiet corner of the ship with the "Stories of the gods". When asked he would read a story or two for them. Sempronio put it about that his son had studied with the Abadaran priest in the village -- which was true, after a fashion. So Pietro had been nominated.
After his nomination, his mother had scrubbed every visible inch of his body with their store of carefully horded fresh water so that he would not disgrace the family. Now ready to step on deck, he dusted himself off again and checked his raw pink hands for any mote of dirt. He wanted to make a good impression on the captain. Then he remembered the comatose old man, didn't he have a mirror? He decided to check on him before seeing the captain.
“Also, I would recruit him as well.” Smythe continued casually, raising his walking stick and pointing it behind him, pointing it directly at Pietr, who stood on deck watching the performance with everyone else.
“Courage of a lion that boy, might come in handy I would think, whot?”
Pietro gritted his teeth. The day had gone south since he had walked into the old man's cabin. Pride had been replaced briefly with joy that the old man had woken. Then that had changed to confusion with the old man's variety of metamorphoses. He had followed Smythe out onto the deck in a daze. Now to be reduced to an afterthought. It was almost too much.
Captain Venn looked at this strangely dressed man who adressed him so boldly. The spectacle of his walk across the deck alone spoke volumes to the experienced traider and he took a wary tone as he replied. "Well, I'm glad to see you have recovered your senses."He looked towards the beach, ... If you really want to help, get yourself ashore when I return there and help gather and prepare food....
The captain turned to Pietr .... "Now you I have seen around boy. Mjobo told me you have been useful belowdecks. The old seas dog even thought about taking you along with him, but decided against for some reason. If the tow of you prove useful enough working the beach, we'll see what else pops up when our other groups return".
With that the captain turns and leaves, effectively dismissing the tow of them before disapearing into his cabin and shutting the door.
Pietro stared at the closed door. He had missed his chance.
There was only one thing to do. Go to the beach and try to be useful.
Pietro returns to the refugees left below decks and tells them he was unable to get answers from the captain. (If pressed he admits his failure to even ask the captain any of the refugees questions. ) He suggests as many as possible go to the beach to help gather food as it seems to be important to Captain Venn.
...Milhar wasn't greeted by overwhelming hugs or brazen displays of affection. Some of the woman folk smiled and patted him on the shoulder, but mostly they were just calling questions. He was surrounded by people all talking at once, and suddenly found himself with a burning headache. It had been throbbing dully for a good half an hour now, but the overwhelming noise and sudden glare of the sunlight brought it crashing to the fore of his thoughts. A pulse of concern came from the pack where Sen had returned for the journey back to the beach...
Milhar watches everyone split up and go to their various needs and concerns then he quickly follows the Captain for a brief word.
DM
Then Milhar walks off round the sandy point aways unti he cannot hear the camp. Then he lies down with Sen and some food and drink listening to the small waves collapsing on the shore, watching the soft clouds sail across the blue sky until he is lulled to sleep.
This is not easy. I have a brain on fire and that pressure could just be tiredness or it could be something else. Maybe those white warriors I seek will be able to help. it would be nice to have someone else who understands all this, someone other than a doll friend. Empathy and perhaps the ability to find ways to ease the pressure I feel.
If I was paranoid I would wonder if the spirit of the dead bugbear could inhabit someone like me. Either way I trust that the Source and my determination will see me through to the end. Seeing the red and black of the bugbear isn't enough. Its like seeing the first steps but not....
Bo-dan and Paera shared a knowing look with each other after watching Khrasi's performance. A mix of emotions surged through the young monk-surprise, anger, frustration, impatience and, even though she didn't really like to admit it to herself, a small bit of humour and pride at the girls bravado as well. But still, if she only barely knew the girl and was already feeling such a powerful and draining mix of emotions, she could only imagine how Khraisi's poor mother must be feeling. Most definitely, something would have to be said and/or done. Although this certainly had not been the kind of help Bo-dan had had in mind, an oath was an oath and the half-elf would die before she would go back on. 'It may be best to speak to the Ulfen first" Bo-dan mused to herself 'But I shall have to step softly as I know of his temper now and he and I have not exactly become boon companions as of yet.'
Sighing quietly though, Bo-dan put the matter aside for now and, forcing a smile onto her tired face, turned to face the delightful Eliisal, laughing as she answers the young and enthusiastic girl "My dear Eliisal! If any of us had but a tenth of your energy, why, we should have run all the way there and back and returned half a day ago! But come child, lead us to your mother and show us what improvements have been made in the camp. Pae and I are tired and hungry and need to rest our feet and feed our bellies. While we sit and dine, I promise you we shall answer all your questions and tell you all about our journey.
The excited youngster jumps and squeals in excitement to have dinning at her tent two of the "Heroes of the Crossing" as some of the refugees were referring to the journey across the sea and those who had several times now protected them on it. Grabbing Bo-Dan's hand, she leads the monk as quick as she can to her mother's tent. Shrugging their shoulders with a silly grin at each other, Bo-dan and Paera allow themselves to be dragged along.
On route, the two boys Paera had earlier befriend dart through the crowd at her like hunting barracuda, regaling the rogue with very similar questions and enthusiasm as Eliisal had done. Ruffling their hair with her free hand, Paera invites the boys along and they trial excitedly after her.
Milhar
The rythmic wash of waves on sand lulled the gray man deeper into slumber. The soft hiss of water and sand rubbing against each other matched his breathing. Hisss, wooooosh, hissss, wooooooosh.
Hisssssssss. The land fell away, his spirit rising sluggishly though the air at first, seemingly held back by the confines of pain and weariness his corporeal body presented. As he looked back down to the raggedly tired figure, he saw with some curiosity the heavy sheen of sweat starting to form across the brow and the involuntary shake of his hands, even in sleep. Something was definetely wrong with him.
Sen fought his way free of the backpack, desperately shaking the body on the beach, and looking around as if in confusion. The little companion doll seemed confused and scared. With some astonishment, Milhar realised he couldn't feel the connection with the doll like he could when in his body. How interesting.
He hovered there, watching and waiting, hoping his sometime companion on these forays would turn up. With a start, the spirit form became aware of a weight in his hand. He looked down and saw the gleaming blade of the bugbears sword resting comfortably in his hand. The metal seemed real, glwoing with a sheen all its own, neither evil nor good, merely a blade. As if its purpose in this world was yet to be decided. Milhar was gaining new insights into the nature of spiritual combat merely by holding this blade in his hand. Information flowed into him, allowing some simple truths for enhancing his form in this world.
A voice spoke, dark and sibilant...and close. "So the white one has learned a new trick. Well, it won't matter now, your fate was sealed the moment you killed the eshekki". Milhar knew the word as bugbear in the goblin tongue, an intuitive bit of information that came to him even as he turned.
Three dark figures were arrayed before him. Their bodies were cloaked in shadowed armour, and short blades filled their hands. Their faces were those of jackals, though the bodies were hobgoblin.
"You shouldn't have left your body white one. Now it's time to die"
Aboard Vixen, the day before
The rope ladder down to the gently ocking boat was troulesome enough for the two men, let alone finding their balance in the boat when tehy first settled.
The Capatin was already seated, his place at the prow giving him prime view of teh beach and also allowing him to call teh direction of travel through the shallow reef and rocks as waters shallowed near the beach. He sat, balanced perfectly, watching the two newomers with some interest as they settled themselves in the boat.
"Would be good if one of you could help seaman Collis here row while I called directions" he stated, nodding at the other man also in the boat. Collis had picked up one of the ors and locked it into its mount already. They were heavy pieces of timber and didn't look to easy to use. Both of the seafarers stared at Pietr and Symmington, wating to see how they'd respond.
Milhar looks down at the new blade in his hand and then nods grimly at the dog-faced hobgoblins. He wills the Source to aid him as best it can and calls on his innate magic to cover his spirit with a shield and also provide him with a second short sword then in his other hand. New to this, the celestial warrior hopes to see his form protected and armed ready for battle with the three mind assassins.
That should be a standard action to cast shield and a move action to pull out another short sword.
Day before aboard Vixen:
Pietro sat in a quiet corner of the deck. He was watching for the captain. He planned to be in the same boat when the captain went ashore. He could still feel his father's eyes on him, the reproach and disappointment in them mirroring that in the others eyes, when he had reported the results of his first attempt to talk with the captain. It was a bitter feeling.
He was beginning to despair when the delegation approached him. Two of the older women and golden Astallia, a girl of about his own age.
It was Astallia who actually asked him, her soft brown eyes looking up into his and her gentle smile warming him in a way he felt uncomfortable about. "You can still be our voice to the Captain, Pietro" she said quietly. "Nothing has changed. They are making decisions that affect our future yet none are asking us for input. If you would stand for us, we may have a better place when we arrive at Gergythia. Will you still do it?" She had taken his hand in hers on the last question, the warmth of her skin like the fire of Iomedae herself in the young man's heart.
" I will do it. I am waiting for him now. I will be in his boat when he goes to the island." He drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders before smiling back at her. "Thanks."
A few moments later the captain appeared on deck. Pietro relinquished Astallia's hand and picked up his meager gear. "Get the rest to the island soon. I think it's important that we show the captain we all can help."
He made his way across the deck. Getting into the boat was awkward. It fell away on the back of a wave as he stepped down and although he maintained his footing, he dropped heavily into the bottom of the launch.
"Would be good if one of you could help seaman Collis here row while I called directions" he stated, nodding at the other man also in the boat. Collis had picked up one of the ors and locked it into its mount already. They were heavy pieces of timber and didn't look to easy to use. Both of the seafarers stared at Pietr and Symmington, wating to see how they'd respond.
"I'll do it, sir." Pietro wriggled to the next bench, across from Collis. He grabbed the remaining oar and manuvered it into the oarlock. Then he looked over at Collis, "Ready when you are."
A push from the bosun gave the launch a little speed away from the ship. Collis waited until his oar was clear then nodded to Pietro and pulled. Pietro pulled too, trying to match the seaman's stroke for length and speed.
Rowing check:
It seemed to be going well. Even if Pietro's oar skipped over the waves occasionally, at least they were holding a straight course to the beach.
After a few moments, Pietro looked Captain Venn straight in the eye. "Captain, sir, if I may. The poorer folk have had a tough time of it. Most of them have lost everything, and with the troubles on board and now this island, we don't know what to think. We're sick with worry. 'twould ease everyone if you were to say plainly how long we're staying and what our options are. And what kind of a place it is we're going to."
"A lot of the people are glad to be here at the island. The sailors call us stupid and tease and taunt us, but at least here we can help. People are glad of something to do and a chance to get out in the air."
"Speaking for myself, when we leave this place, it might be good if we could get more time on deck for exercise, or even if some of us could help the crew. Twould give people somethin' to do and might mend bridges with the sailors."
DIplomacy if needed :
With that the captain turns and leaves, effectively dismissing the two of them before disapearing into his cabin and shutting the door.
Symington raised an eyebrow sardonically at the now closed door. HE clearly wasn't used to, or at least hadn't expected to, be dismissed quite so cavalierly.
"Well,..." He drew out the word so long it threatened to become as deep as the object it named.
"That was, anti-climatic." He finished softly to his feathered friend. Seraph, for his part, seemed unconcerned regarding the entire thing.
When the mage turned back around, he just caught sight of Pietr going back below decks. With a sigh, he wandered over to the side of the ship facing the island, and peered towards land for a while. HE then turned his attention back to the deck of the ship, and wandered about while observed the goings-on of the crew for a bit. He would occasionally mutter softly, whether to himself or his dark feathered companion it was hard to tell. He never spoke directly to anyone, which made the superstitious crew perfectly happy. After apparently being satisfied with what he saw, he reached into his an inner pocket of his cloak, and pulled out a slim, battered and well-worn book.
He reclined against a rail and flipped through the book slowly, almost idly, going through it's pages. When Pietr reappeared on deck later, looking despondent, the mage gave a small smile and flipped his book closed with a snap. But before he could walk over to the youth, another small group of women came on deck and engaged the lad in conversation. Smythe resettled against the rail and watched the interaction with curiosity.
The Captain appeared shortly after, and Symington strode across the deck to join him, Pietr, and another sailor in entering the skiff. Seraph stretched and took flight as the mage reached the ladder with the Captain and Pietr.
The rope ladder down to the gently ocking boat was troulesome enough for the two men, let alone finding their balance in the boat when they first settled.
Symington managed to enter the boat without capsizing it, although his climbing was hampered by his overcloak and cane, both of which he politely refused to give up when asked by a sailor who had become braver at the raven's departure. When the small craft bounced unexpectedly as they entered, Smythe teetered, and made tiny windmills with his arms. This brought a burst of laughter from the watching sailors.
"Darnit Captain, I'm a magus, not an acrobat!" He muttered with a drawl to his accent as he regained both his balance and his composure, and took his seat.
"Would be good if one of you could help seaman Collis here row while I called directions" he stated, nodding at the other man also in the boat. Collis had picked up one of the oars and locked it into its mount already. They were heavy pieces of timber and didn't look to easy to use. Both of the seafarers stared at Pietr and Symmington, wating to see how they'd respond.
"I'll do it, sir." Pietro wriggled to the next bench, across from Collis.
Symington had hardly opened his mouth when Pietr volunteered. He settled back onto his bench with a small smile, back straight and hands resting atop his cane standing up in front of him, as they set out towards shore. He shaded his eyes with one hand as Pietr found his rhythm and matched the sailors rowing. HE occasionally glanced upwards, as if reassuring himself that Seraph was still there. He was. The raven circled overhead as the tiny craft maneuvered through the shallows towards the beach.
When Pietr spoke to the captain, Smythe listened expectantly. His look could have been taken for smugness, but the sharp-eyed captain could tell that the mage approved of Pietr's request.
"An excellent idea Pietr, if I may say so Captain." Symington spoke softly, his aristocratic accent making it a declaration. He addressed Pietr, hands resting atop his cane once more.
"Judging by the hands and clothing of the women who spoke to you on deck, the people you refer to are primarily farmers, correct?" He asked Pietr. "It makes perfectly logical sense Captain. Your men sail for a living, it's what they do. And while I'm certain they're more than capable of foraging for supplies, these people grow, harvest, store and transport food for a living. It's what they do. If you want to resupply swiftly and efficiently, I would turn it over to them to organize." Smythe said matter of factly.
"It's just a suggestion, of course, Captain." He adds, almost as an after thought, politely nodding his head to the captain. "But a perfectly logical one, as I said. And if I may point out sir, with the recent events, morale is low. Giving the people a purpose will not only help the ship, but will help them as well. Again, it's merely a suggestion sir." Smythe finished with another polite nod of his head.
Seeing the captain's skeptical look, Symington shrugs depreciatingly. "Yes, I know, I've been,... indisposed, for most of the journey thus far. But, I'm observant Captain, I tend to notice things that others miss entirely or take for granted. In the short time since we last spoke, I've managed to put together a fairly complete picture of recent events on board ship, as well as their after-effects. The lad is offering you a solution to one of your immediate concerns. And the people your trying to protect are bored, and frightened. A bad combination in the best of circumstances sir. And they want to help. Let them. Please."
Symington adds the last after the barest hint of a pause. He is clearly unused to asking, but he is also clearly sincere in his request.
:)
Yesterday, Rowing to shore
Captin Venn looks at both men, his attention momentarily drawn from directing the row boat to shore.
"You both make fine points gentlemen. I have no intentions of isolating groups within this vessel. Everyone will be needed to ensure we survive this trip. If the two of you can organise these farmers into work parties that can use their skills, then by all means do so"
He turns back to the task of getting everyone to shore without running afoul of the small reef and rocks near the beach.
As the keel of the boat finally strikes the gravelly sand, both Pietr and Collis are forced to ship their oars and leap into the water to drag the boat further onto dry land.
Collis then makes fast the line and pats Pietr firmly on the back, awakening the ache that has started there from the unnacustomed work of pulling oars. "Good job lad, we can make a half decent sailor of ye, if you choose to travel that rod". He grins then heads back up to the main camp to join a small knot of sailors gathered to mend sail and rope.
Ven turns and regards the two men again, thoughtfully rubbing at his beard. "There's a few things as want looking two if you want to be useful. Our defenses are none to great. If these orcs, or something else, decide not to be friendly we won't be able to hold them very well. We could use someone with a trained eye directing a few sturdy folk to make those better. That Big Ulfen tried his hand at it, but he's another task ahead of him now."
He points towards the treeline, beyond the point where the two totems mark their fearsome boundary. "If you can get some folk brave enough to penetrate a small ways into the forest, we desperately need edible fruits and vegetable matter. Mind, I'm not sure as how the locals will repsond to such a thing"
He then turns and looks past the rocky point where people are gathering shellfish and using nets forother sea life. "Beyond that point another beach stretches before coming to a group of rocks and jungle. None have gone that way since the group who left to find the village of Haven. Might be there's other foods we could be harvesting there. Most of the folk aboard are tow spooked to travel there without protection. If you two can convince a group of foragers to travel up shore with you and gather foood, it may increase our food supplies very rapidly. Mind you don't wander too far though. We won't know if trouble comes a knocking unless you send a runner."
He turns away again, walking towards the main camp and calling out to others as he goes. His parting words are sent over his shoulder "Ship to it lads, you say your folk want a say in things, well them show they mean it."
Symington nods his head to the Captain with a small smile, and salutes him with a touch of his cane to his forehead as Venn stalks off to organize,... whatever it is that Captains organize.
"Well." He says, turning to his new friend Pietr. "I don't suppose that you or one of your family have practical knowledge pertaining to construction of defensive palisades, perchance?" He muses idly, pursing his lips at the defenses so far. "A construction engineer? Time in the Legion, perhaps? Militia?" He asks casually, but quickly, the statements rattling off so rapidly that those nearby wonder when he actually draws a breath.
"I could probably design something adequate. Of course I could, I could design a fortress! The trouble is while I can recall multiple building techniques, and name the best situation to utilize each in, I have very little, experience, in actual construction." He confesses casually.
"Now." He continues, raising his cane to point it at the edge of the jungle, and the warning totems. "As we recently informed the good Captain, your friends are imminently well-suited for a foraging expedition. However, what I overheard on the ship, the Captain's mention of the natives possible reaction, and those items planted there, make me suggest a very cautious approach if we attempt to do so here. At the very least, I would prefer a chance to examine those totems more closely before endeavoring to venture past them."
"That leaves us with the Captain's final suggestion." Symington says, swinging his extended cane around horizontally, and causing Pietr to back up a step to avoid being poked as the mage points down the beach. "Foraging down the beach, in the areas as of yet unexplored. Certainly some of your stalwart compatriots can be convinced to venture forth, if they were to be assured of their physical safety by the combined physical and mystical prowess of such as ourselves!?" He inquires with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, what do you think lad?" Symington asks as he swings his cane down, plants it in the sand, and lightly rests one hand on it.
The spirit realm, current time
Milhar reacted with speed and precision. A thought brought forth a shimmering white shield to float in front of the mage. His left hand reached for a weapon at his belt, but it clutched at nothing. Obviously the metal of the bugbear blade was forged of something more than his normal weapons.
He didn't have time to do more than those simple actions before the fiends in front of him moved. One dropped and rushed forwards, interposing itself between Milhars spirit form and his corporeal body. The others moved, shifting in opposite directions of each other to try and encircle the source mage. Despite his best efforts, Milhar couldn't keep them from their falmking tactic and he now found himself having to turn and weave to keep the enemy at bay. The beasts closed for the kill
Algret
Shale responds to the offered emotions with a warm opening of her sulstone. The feelings pour into the doll, and Algret feels the growth of the constructs feelings. The longer this chanel runs though, the less intense her own feeling of joy and comfort become. It is almost as if the soulstone were leaching the emotion from the situation.
A surge of confusion and panic come from Shale and she desperately tries to break the conection between the two, hoever neither seem to have experience in this sitation.
If you pass the will save
If you fail the save
Sahba drops Algrets hand almost immediately, a look of suspicion and a little fear crossing her eyes. She hugs her doll a little more closely to her body and a shivers as if a small chill has touched her.
Bo-Dan
Ellisal blushes at teh complement and makes a delighted sort of squeal. Her smile almost splits her face, yet she continues to bombard them with questions, asking them how they handled the situation and what tatics they used during the fighting.
Paera was strangely quiet throughout the exchange. Her beautiful eyes seemed distant, as if she were pondering something of great import and it appeared as if she were struggling to keep the conversations in her thoughts.
When the entourage finally reached Khsimia's camp area, the smell of cooking seafood chowder filled the evening air. The large woman was busy preparing an evening meal and also trying to med some sailcloth that had been left as a chore for her. When teh group arrived, she looked up, brushing a few loose strands of dark hair from her face and frowning deeply.
"Ah, retured have you. Good t see you've made it back in one piece, oh and picked up my youngest too I see. Perhaps now you've all decided to return, we can get some these jobs done and help me prepare the supper!"
She turns her intimidting glare towards her youngest daughter "Ad where is your sister young lady? Off listening to tales from that damnable sailor again I bet." She seemed wound up, looking for any reason to explode and vent what was probably a few weeks worth of frustration.
The two youths that had spoken with Paera earlier suddenly vansihed from the area, not wishing to be around when this womans anger was vented.
Milhar's novice nerves go as he realises it is him or them. They will not be easy to take but he has the light of the Source and they will feel it's gentle power awakened. Then he unleashes the blade aiming to pierce the goblinoid's face as he passes.
Attack roll , Damage
Then the sorcerer quickly steps out of the trap moving beside the one in front to the left.
Bo-dan laughs at the girls continued enthusiasm yet gives her only general answers for the moment.
The monk senses Paera's distance, yet she does not make to much of it at present. They were both tired from their long day, and as well, Bo-dan knew that her lover was sometimes prone to spells of restlessness or discontent, as was she herself. Bo-dan knew that if it was something important, Paera would discuss it with her later.
As they reach the small area claimed by Khsimia and her girls, Bo-dan smiles again, happy to see the good-hearted and hard-working woman. The half-elf nods easily at the request to help and pitches in whole heartedly with whatever tasks need doing.
As Khsimia begins to vent her frustration on the innocent Ellisal, Bo-dan subtly moves in front of her, forcing the large woman to be facing her instead. Deciding to leave the matter of the wayward Khrasi to the side for the moment, Bo-dan attempts to distract the wild girl's mother by beginning to relate the take of the party's adventure in the jungle with the orcs, making sure to involve Khsimia in the story by asking her opinion on several matters.
As well, the monk makes sure to include the bittersweet tale of the reunion of the Orc mothers and their children and the one poor mother who would never see her dear child smile again. Perhaps the reminder that there were always those who were suffering more would recall to Khsmima that there were worse fates that could befall her daughter then that of simply acting out as a young woman (although granted a particularly wild and wanton one)
Yesterday, Rowing to shore
"You both make fine points gentlemen. I have no intentions of isolating groups within this vessel. Everyone will be needed to ensure we survive this trip. If the two of you can organise these farmers into work parties that can use their skills, then by all means do so"
... "There's a few things as want looking two if you want to be useful. Our defenses are none to great. ... We could use someone with a trained eye directing a few sturdy folk to make those better. ...
... "If you can get some folk brave enough to penetrate a small ways into the forest, we desperately need edible fruits and vegetable matter. ...
"Beyond that point another beach stretches before coming to a group of rocks and jungle. ... If you two can convince a group of foragers to travel up shore with you and gather food, it may increase our food supplies very rapidly. ...."
He turns away again, walking towards the main camp and calling out to others as he goes. His parting words are sent over his shoulder "Ship to it lads, you say your folk want a say in things, well them show they mean it."
Pietro has no idea what to do yet, but he enthusiastically answers like he's heard the sailors do, "Aye Aye, captain. " He finishes pulling the boat up onto the beach and stowing the oars with Collis. He says nothing in return to the sailor's words, but his smile may be eloquent enough.
Symington nods his head to the Captain with a small smile, and salutes him with a touch of his cane to his forehead as Venn stalks off to organize,... whatever it is that Captains organize.
"Well." He says, turning to his new friend Pietr. "I don't suppose that you or one of your family have practical knowledge pertaining to construction of defensive palisades, perchance?" ...
"Now ... your friends are imminently well-suited for a foraging expedition. ... At the very least, I would prefer a chance to examine those totems more closely before endeavoring to venture past them."
"That leaves us with ... Foraging down the beach ... Certainly some of your stalwart compatriots can be convinced to venture forth, if they were to be assured of their physical safety by the combined physical and mystical prowess of such as ourselves!?" He inquires with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, what do you think lad?" Symington asks as he swings his cane down, plants it in the sand, and lightly rests one hand on it.
Pietro considers the question. In fact throughout Smythe's rather long-winded discourse, he's been thinking about it. He and his family know nothing about fortifications. That's out. He could gather food in the forest, but it looks thick enough that the wind would just die in there. Even with the shade he could easily imagine it being quite oppresive under the trees. The beach on the other hand .... Poor son of a poor farmer in a landlocked village, he's never seen anything quite like this broad strand. And despite the sun, the breeze off the water was very pleasant. And no one had been down the beach. It would be like exploring. It was really no decision at all.
"Down the beach, sir. I think we would do well down the beach."
Pietro looked up and down the beach for a work party. Spotting one on the way, he shouldered his meager gear and began walking toward them. "Maybe we can get these good people to help us."
"Down the beach, sir. I think we would do well down the beach."
Pietro looked up and down the beach for a work party. Spotting one on the way, he shouldered his meager gear and began walking toward them. "Maybe we can get these good people to help us."
"Sir?!? DOn't call me 'sir', I work for a living!" Mutters Symington with a smirk.
"Right then!" He continues with a smile in a normal tone, (which means loudly for Smythe).
"A stroll down the beach sounds like just the ticket after a convalescence. Capital choice." He declares. Then realizes that his potential audience is walking away, towards a group of workers.
"Right then, I'll just follow you then, shall I?" He adds wryly, sotto voice, and strides to catch up to the earnest youth. He glances upwards, as if to assure himself that Seraph is still in sight. He seems to relax slightly at the sight of the small dark form circling overhead, and one side of his mouth twists upwards in a half smile.
Will save:
"It's alright little one." Algret whispers as she strokes Sabha's hair.
She tries not to let the confusion and worry into her voice.
Yesterday, on the beach
Pietro strides up the beach to meet with the work party. He recognizes most of them from the ship. He addresses one woman whose husband is still aboard ship. He was injured when some crates shifted and crushed his leg. "Umma, Tald does well. The swelling's down and I feel the bones're whole. Need a splint for a week or three. I'll set it tomorrow." He smiles at her obvious relief.
Then he addresses the whole party. "I've jus' come o'er wi' the captain. He said we might gather food faster if we look farther down there where no one's been." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Symington. "In case any's nervous, here's Master Smythe, fresh and hale this morning as afore his fit. Master Magus he says. He'll watch for any taboos or curses. Any up for a change of scenery?"
Diplomacy check
Vik (Algret will see this too, everyone else is doing their own thing)
As the girl left and the crowd began disperse, Vik was left standing there. A tumult of emotions roiled through the great barbarian. His heart hammered in his chest and he felt flushed, almost burning with heat after the exchange.
After a moment he grinned broadly and turned to call out to Algret. As he did so the heat in his body seemed to rise, his heart beat thundered in his ears and his vision blurred. He staggered a step or two towards the dwarf, his leg twitching a little. The he simply fell forward into the gravelly sand of the beach.
Cynthia's story
Cynthia finally scrabbled herself towards the door and drew the bolt back. Her eyes blazed and power welled within her, readying to unleash a bolt of force if something other than Phillipe came through the door.
The wooden baricade swung outwards and the terrified boy scrambled through, low to the ground and whimpering uncontrollably. As he came through he desperately pulled the door shut and slid the bolt across. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and sweat soaked through the rough spun shirt he wore on his back. Phillipe turned to the young warlock, his eyes wide as saucers and he leapt to her, grabbing her ina great embrace. Though only 14, he was broad across the shoulders and strong in the arms. Years of Toiling on the ship and then hauling barrels and cargo for his father at the tavern had strengthened the lad. He would be a big man when fully grown. For now he was a terrified boy, clutching desperately to the only person he had found alive so far.
After a small moment, he pulled away from Cynthia, his breathing seemeing to have calmed. He eyed her then, his young face changing from terror to embarrassment, and something else. He turned his eyes away, blushing furiously as he stammered "Uuumm, Cynthia, you 'aint got no clothes on!" His voice broke softly on the last words.
The warlock let out a little laugh, tension releaseing from her quickly now she had a companion in this horror. She quickly moved to her bed chest and got dressed. She spent a few moments and gathered her equipment. Outside, the terrible keening was gaining in tempo, interspersed occasionally with screams and shouts as the people in the tavern were aassaulted by the giant arachnids.
As Vik fell Algret watched, frozen in horror. The children, sensing her emotional change, followed her eyes to the collapsed warrior. Kahir ran along with her as she carried little Sabha to Vik's side looking for a sign of what was wrong with him.
Heal:
Algret (and Vik)
Algrets extensive knowledge of healing and combat wounds lets her know immediately that the big man is fighting an infection of some type. She turns him carefully, and notes a swelling of his hands and forearms, as if a thousand small bites were marking his skin.
As she stares more closesly, the celric can see the telltale red lines of infection running up his arms. She had seen signs of infections like this before, and knew well how to care for them. One of the great chymests of the gnomes had written a treatise on these types of things before, claiming that many were the consequence of very tiny life forms invading teh body. Certainly the rash appeared to be puntures or welts from bites. They would supperate and become toxic given enough time, and even now she could see his arms twitching involuntarily. A neural parasite then.
Working quickly, she opened the big Ulfens clothes up as much as she could without stripping him down. Careful not to touch the infected area, she rolled him over into a comfortable recovery position. She sent the boy off to get some strong folk to help her carry Vik to his bed. She sent Sahba to gather a container of sea water, both for scrubbing the infected area and for cooling the big man. The cleric felt Vik was easily strong enough to fight this off, but was determined to give the big man as much help as possible.
The spirit realm
Milhar's blade lept forwad with consumate skill, striking the first of the demon men, despite its obviously enhanced armour. The thing shrieked as black shadow spilled from its body, though no mark was evident upon it. It fell back from the glowing white form of the angered sorceror, panic filling its eyes as then it turned to flee back across the sea.
It's companion swore, the goblinoid tongue unintelligable to Milhar, but the intent all too obvious. It closed and swung, the shortsword moaning with hunger as it tried to strike the spirit form of its masters enemy. . The creature badly misjudged Milhars abilities though and swung very wide as the white man lept to the side. The demon man called to its companion, and the other creature sped to its aid, also swinging wildly at Milhar. . The second attack hits solidly on Milhar. He felt no pain, but below he watched as the front of his shirt began to stain red with his own blood.
A gleam of white caught his eye, above and behind the two creatures attacking him. A fast moving object carreening in from the north, white light glaring from an armoured body and curved bastard sword. Help had arrived.
Yesterday, the beach
The small group of refugees listend as Pietr made his offer. They looked at Symmington with interest when the big Paladin mentioned he was a caster. They were a group of seven, five women and two men, though one of those could only really be termed a boy. The oldest man was about to step forwadand say something when Umma interrupted.
"Of course Pietr, if you tell us we are safe, then I am sure it is true". Her faith in you is reassuring, and unfaltering. You had helped her husband while Milhar and Algret were busy dealing with the bugbear issue and the uprising. This woman at least felt she owed you a debt.
The others looked at her and eventually nodded their heads. The man spoke, almost grudgingly "We was goin' ter harvst some o' that weed as grows alongside the colour rocks (). May as well be doin it across them rocks as here I say." Having said his piece and reclaiming a little of his dignity back, the group all head along the beach and cross the rocky point.
When they finally decend to the other side of the craggy mass, they are taken by the beauty of the small beach spread before them. IT curved sharply, almost the sckle shape of a crescent moon in winter. The sand was the same shale colour as before, but piles of drift wood still adorned this one, where teh campsite beach had been picked bare. Gathering the wood and bringing it back to teh main camp would prove difficult though.
The spur of rock that formed the point seemed to cut back into the jungle, heading deeper inland and forming a sharp shoulder of rocks before vanishing from sight. The new beach itself was no more than a few hundred feet, maybe 400 at the most. More coral outcrops could be seen in the shallow lagoon waters, and from this height the water was crystal clear. Schools of fish and rays could be seen swiming within the rocks and corals, moving languidly in the warm waters as they fed.
The far end of the sandy expanse was boxed in by another sttep layer of volcanic rock, the jungle adn palms growing right down to the waters edge along this spur. Going beyond that to collect foods would be nigh impossible.
The beach was an untapped goldmine of resources, now al they had to do was round them up.
Perception (sight)DC14
If you make that perception check. Knowledge nature or dungeoneering
DC12
The creature was most likely a shark. In these tropical waters and given its relative size, it would be a Tiger or Bronze whaler. Definately dangerous if it got close to anyone in the water. It didn'tseem overly agitated or aggresive, it was merely following the beach line at this stage. It would be hard to see it from the waters edge, but the height of this position, it was easy to pick out.
Symmington
A short pulse of unease finds its way into Symmingtons thoughts. It took him a while before he realised it was his crow, letting him know the unease that it felt flying high above teh island like this. Something had it a little spooked, though the mage couldn't tell more at this stage. Sense motive DC 10 since he's your familar. Spoiler is below
For Symmington, if he passes his sense motive
Most likely the animal was scared of the larger Pteradons that perpetually swept across the beach. They seemed to mostly be trying to catch fish from the bay, but the wizard, and presumbly the crow, had both seen them take slower seagulls and terns from the skys around the Sun Empire. Perhaps leaving him so high and exposed wasn't advisable until they both got used to what the flying reptiles were capable of.
The Spirit Realm
Milhar tries to ignore his own obvious wound and the pain inflicted on his mind rather than his body. Then the sorcerer notices his help coming and sidesteps away from the one that hit staying close to the other, bringing the short sword low and hard into his stomach.
The blade stabs upwards, (damage aiming to confuse the goblin with his movement.
Pietro was enjoying himself. The day was beautiful. Umma's faith in him was gratifying. The new beach was glorious. This expedition going well.
Knowing little of the beach ecology he followed the example of the others gathering driftwood on the beach. Returning to the common woodpile near the rocky spur, he dropped his armful of sun-bleached branches and stretched his back. Shading his eyes with both hands he looked out over the lagoon.
Perception DC 14:
know(nature) DC 12 :
"There! what's that?! " Pietro points toward the shadowy shape gliding through the water. He doesn't know if it is a predator, or perhaps a large gamefish. Either way it could represent a lot of food. The scrambles back to the sack with his belongings and weapons and pulls out his crossbow. Then he begins running down the beach, shouting warnings to the fishermen in the water.
Symington Smythe strode casually with the others as they entered the new untouched stretch of beach. When the untouched beauty first comes into view, He gazes with it in as much wonder as the others.
He joins the rest as they race to see what bounty the hemmed in stretch of sand holds for them, but his steps are sure and steady, almost casual. But if any think to comment on his less-than-energetic approach to the work before them, it is silenced by the intense look on the mage's face. His piercing gaze slowly sweeps the beauty before him, his slightly large, hooked nose giving him the appearance of a hunting bird as he surveys the vista before him.
"Ware' Pietro!" Smythe cries, stepping forward with sudden speed, waving at the youth to get his attention before he can fire his weapon. His long legs carry him to the young leader with deceptive speed.
"Stop! Don't shoot! It's a shark, a hunter of the ocean. At least, it's most likely a shark. In these tropical waters and given its relative size, it would be a Tiger or Bronze whaler. Definitely dangerous if it gets close to anyone in the water. It doesn't seem overly agitated or aggressive. Note it's merely following the beach line at this stage. I don't know if it's alone, but blood in the water is said to drive them into a frenzy worthy of the mightiest barbarian! At the very least, you'll probably just perturb it, making it dangerous for the fishermen. And at worst, it's blood would attract more of it's kind." He thinks for a moment.
"Our height vantage allows us to spot it easily, but those near the water's edge will have a more difficult time. Have one of the group run a message to the fishermen. Warn them of the shark, and tell them to keep an eye on it and get out of the water if it gets too close. And for Elysium's sake, tell them NOT to shoot it unless they want more of those things in here! The meat you get from it, IF we got it, wouldn't be worth it if it attracts more of them!" He whispers to the young warrior with a small smile. He claps Pietro on the shoulder, trusting in the young leaders ability with people to handle it, and turns back to his scanning of the beach.
Symington is mumbling comments about the rocky enclosures of the small section of beach, and possible geologic reasons for the arrangement, when he stops suddenly with a peculiar look on his face. He glances upwards, his gaze settling upon the small, dark form of his familiar, Seraph, wheeling high almost directly above him.
With a look of what seems like relief, Smythe raises his arm, and makes a small 'come hither' gesture while sending a thought back along the empathic link he shares with Seraph. In response, the Raven screams a reply, and begins circling down, swiftly losing altitude until it lands atop of the mage's extended cane.
"What's the matter Seraph? Don't tell me your afraid of an overgrown lizard with delusions of aerodynamics!" He says chidingly while giving the Raven an affectionate ruffling of it's head feathers. Seraph squawks in annoyance, and shakes his head until his feathers resettle. His silent glare at his master says volumes.
"Do me a favor old thief? Take a look along the treeline will you? Let me know if you see anything interesting. And stay low, for now. IF one of those mangy lizards is actually hungry enough to try to nibble on your scrawny carcass, just duck into the trees. Alright? Good, off you go then!" He whispers to the raven, just loudly enough for Pietro to overhear. At the end he gives the cane a bounce, practically catapulting his friend into the air with an undignified squawk. Seraph recovers with a swift flap of his wings, and circles Smythe once to get his bearings, then obediently flys towards the treeline, leaving the wizard a gift which just misses landing on his cape.
"Oh. Verry funny. Hah. Hah. That never gets old." The dandy mutters, brushing at his cloak despite the fact that nothing is there.
As soon as the men lowered Vik into his bed Algret set to work scrubbing him down with the salt water. She had one of the men build a fire and set rocks within the blaze to gather heat, removing them and allowing them to cool enough to not cause harm, she packed them around the big Ulfen, wrapping him in blankets.
Heal
"The Beach, yesterday
Pietro lowers his bow at Symmington's words, watching with interest as the triangular fin of the great fish slices briefly through the waters surface. A great school of bait fish swarm past and dart in exagerated movements designed to confuse the hunting predator. It twitches slightly, moving ever so fast before coming out of the school. Whether it caught a fish or not is impossible to tell.
The young lad who accompanied them was sent back across the rocks to warn the others of the approaching menace, and work stopped while everyone watched the great creature. Within a few minutes it had vanished around the point and wasn't seen again that day. When the boy Ishmael returned, he informed them that the others had seen the creature and had stayed out of the water till it left.
****
The day wore on, the humid air speaking of rains and storms waiting to break over this speck of island. They had started shifting the great pile of driftwood across the rocks when the warning cry came from Seraph. The great crow burst from the jungle's edge, cawing a mournful dirge of noise as he sped like an arrow towards Symmington.
All eyes turned towards the sound, giving ample warning as a great reptile stalked onto the beach. The two legged raptor stood at least the height of a tall man. Great rending claws tipped its feet, and its sleek head swivelled and bobbed from side to side as it marked the new prey it had found on the sandy expanse. A sibbilant hiss escaped the creatures mouth, its purple toungue flickering ever so slightly forwards as it tasted the air, nostriils flaring and slitted eyes focusing on the two creatures now closest to it.
For a moment, everything hung suspended in time. Then the two refuges furthest from the rocks broke and ran, dry timber scattering from their arms as sheer terror gripped their minds. The creature sprang forward.
It didn't take long for Vik to recover from his comatose state. When the big Ulfen finally opened his eyes, the night was fully upon the tent village. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand on his chest and the throbbing ache of his own head prevented him from moving.
"Ye'll need to be lyin' there a while yet me lad" Algret's voice spoke to him out of the fugue of pain and nausea that swept over him. "When the Sun comes above these trees on the morrow, maybe then ye can think about walkin' around again. Rest now Vik. Take yer time and recover."
Bo Dan sat and ate quietly, her leg resting comfortably against Paera's, the warmth of their subtle touch bringing the half elf comfort. Something was definitely wrong with her heart companion. She hadn't spoken aword since they returned to the beach, despite the cheerful company of the girls and their mother.
Bo Dan's words had the desired effect on the family, allowing teh mother hen the objective view of enjoying her daughters company whiel she could. When the eldest girl had returned, the atmosphere had threatened to be icy, but eventually Khsimia egulfed her daughter ina great hug and spoken quietly in her ear. The nights repast from that moment had been full of laughter and joy.
Except for Pae.
With a suddeness that caught the monk of guard, Paera turned and spoke. Her eyes burned with an intensity the half elf had raarely seen, and her cheeks flushed a deep red with emotion. "I must return to the ship Vestach. There is something....I must do. Something I must speak to Emallion about. Please, give me the time I need for this." She lent in then, and gently kissed her lover on the lips, her hand entwining in her fingers briefly. All to soon the moment had passed and the lithe rogue had stood and walked from the campsite
A forlorn cry emerged from the jungles as a Curlew called for its mate in the gathering gloom.
"The Beach, yesterday
... They had started shifting the great pile of driftwood across the rocks when the warning cry came from Seraph. The great crow burst from the jungle's edge, cawing a mournful dirge of noise as he sped like an arrow towards Symmington.All eyes turned towards the sound, giving ample warning as a great reptile stalked onto the beach ... eyes focusing on the two creatures now closest to it.
For a moment, everything hung suspended in time. Then the two refuges furthest from the rocks broke and ran, dry timber scattering from their arms as sheer terror gripped their minds. The creature sprang forward.
Pietro stared in confusion at the reptile. That's a big salamander! And those claws. He didn't know what to think until the beast broke toward Umma and Ishmael. It didn't look like it wanted to give them a hand carrying the wood.
He dashed to his pack and began loading his crossbow.
Initiative:
The spirit realm
Milhar's attack is inneffective, yet it serves to draw the beasts attention away from the approaching spirit. Both demonmen laugh horribly as they close to finish off the apparently single figure in front of them. Milhar notes in those moments that their eyes seem to slit and squint against the gleam of his shield, almost as if the light hurts them.
It is all he has time to notice though as they press their attack, again moving to flank the sorceror.
The first attack misses, but the second one makes solid contact, slicing into Milhar and dimming the shining glow of his body signinficatny;. Again in the worl below, his corporeal body seems to spurt blood across the sand as a large slice appears in Milhars upper leg. Yet Milhar feels no pain here, just a rising sense of worry that he will not make it back to the world of the living.
The two demon headed opponents smile with glee, and then the white woman is upon them.
She moved with a fluid grace that stunned Milhar, the great sword in her hand dancing as if it had a life of its own. The blade flicked out, slicing throuh the throat of the first oponent. It binked out fo existance almost immediately. In the same motion, she allowed the blade to swing up and across, sliding through the ribs of teh second opponent. It gasped briefly before it too blinked out of existance.
Milhar staggered slighlty, the effect strangegiven he wasn't standing on solid ground. The woman moved to him and caught hold of his arm. She looked into his face, both frustration and relief written across her features.
"Well Milhar, you managed to learn to defend yourself I see. Perhaps you'd remember to urn those candles we spoke of before you tried this again?"
Sweating profusely, as as the fever started to break, Vik tosses in his sleep.
"The Beach, yesterday
The day wore on, the humid air speaking of rains and storms waiting to break over this speck of island. They had started shifting the great pile of driftwood across the rocks when the warning cry came from Seraph. The great crow burst from the jungle's edge, cawing a mournful dirge of noise as he sped like an arrow towards Symmington.
"Seraph?, What?, Why are you, What's the matter?!" " Symington cries, clutching his head as if Seraph's cries were causing him pain.
"Calm DOWN you great bloody bird! I can't tell what, you're,... Oh. Bother." The dandy mutters. He blinks once, staring at the direction that Seraph is flying furiously from.
All eyes turned towards the sound, giving ample warning as a great reptile stalked onto the beach. The two legged raptor stood at least the height of a tall man. Great rending claws tipped its feet, and its sleek head swivelled and bobbed from side to side as it marked the new prey it had found on the sandy expanse. A sibbilant hiss escaped the creatures mouth, its purple toungue flickering ever so slightly forwards as it tasted the air, nostriils flaring and slitted eyes focusing on the two creatures now closest to it.
"That is one biig gecko!" Smythe mutters, unknowingly echoing similar thoughts nearby.
For a moment, everything hung suspended in time. Then the two refuges furthest from the rocks broke and ran, dry timber scattering from their arms as sheer terror gripped their minds. The creature sprang forward.
Another cry from Seraph spurs Symington into action. He snags his cane from its resting place and leaps into movement with the rest of the frightened group. Towards the raptor!
He jumps from his perch upon the rocks (were he was examining an interesting formation) to clear the way for those fleeing the beach. His lips are already forming mystic syllables as his boots hit the sand. The dandy waves the nearest of the group past as his speech settles into a well-practiced rhythm, the arcane syllables loud and clear, but refusing to hang about in the ear to be comprehended. He waves once more at Seraph, then his hands begin to form patterns that somehow seem to fit comfortably with the unintelligible speech.
He narrows his eyes as he chants and gestures at a seemingly casual speed, but it is obvious that he is judging the distance carefully, and it is a race between his casting and the lizard's legs,... and teeth.
The beach, yesterday
Pietro reacts the fastest, his youth and calm demeanour coming to the fore as he moves to his pack and readies his crossbow. The heavy wooden stock of the weapon rests comfortably in his hands as he slots the bolt into the armeture. As he raises it, ready to shoot he gasps in shock at the speed of the thing.
In the time it had taken him to look away, the beast had nearly closed on the two refugees. Their screams were all the louder for the terror its screeching cry invoked in them. Their footfalls were terribly hampered by the sand they ran through, separating them a little as the longer legs of Umma outdistance the young lad beside her. Sensing its prey was close the beast sprang into the air, desperately scything out its claws but falling short of the running boy by a few feet.
Nearby, Symmington chanted and gestured with the deftness of one practised in the arts of magic. The air fairly tingled around the mage as he took the molecules of the world and rewove them into something altogether different. Mass began colaesce and condense in the air near by, warping the view of those who looked. Symmington new the density of the space was becoming such that the fabric of the material plane itself was beginning to tear, opening the way for something else to enter this land. He carefully controlled the matirix of repelling magnetism around the tear, ensuring the effect didn't get out of hand and create a mini balckhole here on the beach. He began to sweat with the effort.
The two refugees ran onwards, closing to within mere feet of their would be protectors.
"burn candles?" Milhar smiles at his saviour. "Are you the Source? My Lady. And he slowly moves to bow, unconsciously holding his other worldly leg wound.
"No need for healing My Lady. I can provide a little and my friends are more than capable of providing more still. You save yours for your journey home. But tell me who were they and why me? I mean them no harm."