Seeing the ghouls didn't hit him he tries an attack again. He takes a step south and tries to hammer the odd creature down. His wounds greatly slow him down.
Great now I have to listen to Eldon talk about the time he saved me. He'll probably make it sound like he killed 10 ghouls instead of one. Kawrock thinks to himself as he can do nothing else for the moment.
Wren squawks as Arval languidly swings his sword.
Arval slices repeatedly into the ghoul in front of him, remembers he has a haste spell, and slices once more! It collapses at his feet.
The final ghoul commits to fighting to the death and leaps at Whiskeyjack, clawing wildly! He catches a nasty scratch across his cheek.
Whiskeyjack (-44)
Lena
Wren
---
Ghouls:
Triangle (-37)
---
Eldon
Kawrock (-21) (paralyzed, 3)
Arval (-55)
Arval walks over to the ghoul that is attacking whiskey and swings his sword.
Wren feathers out a pearl of power, regaining one of her magic missile spells for use should the ghouly thing live another round.
"Come along now, Eldon, finish it!"
Arval swings his blade with a vicious, cutting backhand and decapitates the last ghoul. It collapses to the ground.
End of Combat
Kawrock's paralysis quickly ends, and you take a look over the body of the assassin. He has the following on his person:
- potion of shield of faith +4
- large scorpion venom (4 vials)
- +1 mithral shirt
- +2 dagger
- 2 masterwork daggers
- disguise kit
- thieves' tools
- 300 gp in platinum
- a strange ceramic egg that looks like a good luck charm or bauble
The stable itself stands before you. The fight is outside the centre of town and has not attracted any attention.
Kawrock gently picks up the ceramic egg. "Hey look Wren, he seems to think he is a bird as well. Do you think it will hatch into an assassin chick?"
Wren examines, then overexamines the egg which Kawrock has laid pointed out.
"Hmmm...I don't think this is what I thought it was," Wren comments after identifying the magics and offering them around. "Unlike Eldon, this egg might have some hidden value."
Know (Local/Arcana)
Eldon rushes over to the ghoul Arval just felled and stabs it. "Aha! And that's number eleven!"
He wipes the blade of his rapier clean and sheath the weapon with a flourish, then turns to Kawrock. "I'm sure glad I was there to save you from that horde of ghouls! It took no effort at all for me to kill ten of them, of course."
Eldon nods in reaction to Wren's words. "My value's indeed not hidden. As you've noticed, my unmeasurable value's on clear display and can be spotted from miles away. That's just how epic I am."
Arval looks to whiskey.
"You alright? You look like you took a beating."
Says the completely battered fighter with a blood smeared grin. A moment later he regrets his smile and grimaces in pain.
Whiskeyjack sat down on the stable floor with a clatter of armor. For a moment, he hung his head in weariness before reaching for his flask. Finding it empty, he grumbled for a moment, then chanted over it. Smiling slightly under his bloody beard he tipped it up to his lips to take three long swallows. Then, he held the flask out to Arval and pulled out one of the mostly depleted healing wands.
"Ye ain't lookin' like th' pride o th' human folk ye're own self, ald. Lemme be seein' t' these first. Gonna be a bi' o' scarrin' I be fearin'. These ghoul wounds don't close as nice as blade wounds do."
Whiskeyjack made sure everyone was close by, and that the enemies were definitely dead, then channeled a burst of healing energy into everyone around him. Rats skittered in the hay as they felt the energizing burst, but it was his companions that he was most concerned about. He did it again, seeing Kawrock straighten, almost as good as before the fight, save for some damaged feathers. Then, he turned the wand on Arval, and then himself.
As Whiskeyjack stitches the party back together with prayers and booze, Lena explores the stables. She finds the following in her explorations:
- Two pale mounts that look exhausted, although providing no real clues about their riders.
- The livery stable's sales ledger, which dutifully records the exchange of two horses of pale color for two piebalds bearing a "winged loop" brand: a figure 8 with an arcing line extending from each side. As well, a page has been torn out of the ledger.
- As the group look over the egg, it is not magical but appears to have a hidden seam that looks tricky to open.
Popping open the egg reveals a carving of a gagged human skull. The symbol of the Whispering Way.
With the stable explored, it appears your next destination is Illmarsh unless you have further business in Thrushmoor.
"I would like to know what was torn from this ledger...might have been important," Wren grouses.
Wren examines the description of the winged loop like a raven looking at a shiny object.
Know (History)
Know (Local)
"We should probably move on in the morning, yes? Unless we think there are other assassins around? It is amazing that we were chasing 2 horses, yet there are 5 additional foes here to attack us. Maybe we need a way to speak to the body of the dead assassin?"
Arval thanks whiskey and stands up, flexing to check if everything seems in place again.
"We are going to have to watch our step from now on. If there are assassins here there are going to be more down the road. I think we should move on and chase them."
He says to the group, agreeing with Lena.
"We have bought the supplies we need and can forage on the way if the need arises."
Eldon looks the egg over and notices the seam. He takes one of his bolts and gives the ceramic egg a couple of firm taps with the tip, applying enough force to break the material yet keep whatever is inside from being damaged.
Inside the egg Eldon finds a carving of a gagged human skull.
"This is the Whispering Way's symbol... Looks we we haven't fully rid ourselves of them yet."
"We be gettin' any more info from this place? Or is i' time t' be movin' on t' th' Illmarsh? Wit' these assassins abou', I ain't keen on hangin' abou' wit' me britches abou' me knees. Arval, lad, ye feelin' good enough t' be movin' on? Th' slow dwarf feels th' goblin knives, as me mudder always said."
Whiskeyjack took another swig from his flask and looked down at the assassin. "I dinnae think I ken be talkin' t' the whelp now. I' ain't in me repertoire." Whiskeyjack pronounced the last word like rep-pe-twa-ray.
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Consulting Wren's giant brain, she tells you that Ilmarsh is around thirty miles down the coast. It being midday, you decide to strike out immediately rather than spend any more time in the weird town. Also, the body of the assassin may raise uncomfortable questions.
You strike out eastwards along what may be the worst road in Ustalav. Winding along the north shore of Lake Encarthan, it is alternatively washed out, crumbled away, or overgrown at any given point and it makes for very hard going. The lake, which is effectively a sea, is extremely rough and the waves crash constantly against the shore, soaking you as you walk. What could be a two day march will likely take four. Except for Wren and Kawrock who enjoy the miracles of flight, like jerks.
It is only a couple of miles into the trip out of Ilmarsh that you encounter something.
A stormy sky hangs over the bay, reducing the light to a burning autumn dawn. A single stone quay extends out into the lake’s wind-tossed surf, forming a quiet landing for boats far from any signs of settlement.
Kawrock and Wren both spot the boat and call down to the group. Around 150 feet from the shore, a single-masted trawler is desperately fighting the whitecaps, and losing. With the way the boat is headed for the rocky shore, a crash appears inevitable.
Except for Wren and Kawrock who enjoy the miracles of flight, like jerks.
Wren floats lower into the wind, trying to avoid being overblown.
"Say Kawrock, do you see that boat? Did you think we have enough time to watch it crash?" Wren squawks, and moves 40' over the water to get a better look.
Perception
"Reminds me of this one disasterous trip I was on...blahblahblah...going directly into werewolf country...blahblahblah...stupid bird of fire...blahblahblah...kept eating all the onions...blahblahblah...twice, with two different hands, then again with a mango...blahblahblah...and the halfling bragged he could do better."
"What boat?!"
Arval says as he still tries to get through the rough terrain whilst birdman and birdwoman have already arrived at the lake. He eventually makes his way over to the coastline and looks to whiskey for guiding.
"I don't think we are going to stop that thing... Not without one of us being crushes between the landing and the boat..."
Kawrock turns to follow Wren out over the lake. "Perhaps we can see if they need assistance?" Kawrock manages to squeeze in after Wren's long winded story. "Wouldn't be good for someone to get tossed out into such rough water."
Eldon nods. "Yes, that would sure be nasty..."
He quickens his pace, heading over to the shore as fast as he can.
The group all stare out at the shore. It's hard to make out the figure on the boat but he looks like an older human male. He continues to battle with the boat as it careens for the shore. It looks like it will crash in around a minute and a half.
"Only a fool 'r a deperate man'd be out in this. So 'e's probably a halfling," Whiskeyjack said with a chortle. "If'n ye two ken be flyin' ou' ther et' help 'im, i' be on yer heads. Ain't nothin' the rest o' us ken be doin fer th' now."
Whiskeyjack moved to where the boat would likely make landfall and waited, ready to aid, but not sure what could be done at this point. he looked around to see if there was anything they could use to help out in this situation.
Now that others have advocated rescue rather than watching the crash, Wren flies 80' closer to the boat to try to see if there is just one humanoid needs help or there are more.
"Kawrock, can you lift the man out?"
Kawrock follows Wren looking down at this flaming talons after her question. "Probably not the best idea in this form, give me a moment." Kawrock flaps his wings to gain a bit of altitude before shifting into a giant vulture and swooping down to retrieve the man.
Wren looks to see what she can see.
The trawler has one pilot and is single-mast. As Kawrock changes into a giant vulture, he gets a better look at the pilot. He wears a leather apron smock bearing unidentifiable stains and has a set of goggles with multi-coloured lenses pulled up on his forehead. His white hair is spiky from the wind and water and sticks out in all directions.
Kawrock flies up into the air and becomes far less fiery and beautiful as he turns into a gigantic vulture who then speeds for the scientist. He screams in terror as the giant death bird descends for him.
The road runs a line between the rocky shore and the dense Forest of the Veils. There's plenty of deadfall handy if you can find a use for it.
Arval stands deep in thought.
I think I would also be terrified...
Kawrock gets a firm grip on the man and lifts him from the doomed vessel. "Stop squirming or you'll end up in the water. I'll have you on land in just a moment." Moving quickly Kawrock flies over to his companions and gently sets the man down.
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Kawrock gets a properly mighty grip on the man, yanking him off of the boat. He wails in despair as he leaves his trawler behind which continues to make for shore. Kawrock flaps over to the group, and deposits him down. The trawler is around ten seconds from crashing.
"AUAUGUGHGHGHGGIATNVULTUREDON... wait, that's not right!" The man pulls down his googles to stare at Kawrock, completely forgetting about the boat.
"Vultures aren't predatory, they eat carrion. Beyond that giant vultures are absolutely not native fauna, and don't talk. Fascinating. Also they don't travel with halflings as a rule. Let me see..."
Distracted and ignoring the rest of you, he sits down on a rock and starts trying to figure something out, drawing equations in the air. His ship continues its way towards shore.
"Arval, mebbe if ye ken be gettin' a rope hooked on her, we ken be hauling her in. Even if'n she be crashin ont' th' rocks between me an' th' elf bird we ken be mendin' i'?" Whiskeyjack doesn't sound too certain about this plan, but it's all he can think of.
Eldon fishes his silk rope from his backpack and jumps onto Kawrock's back.
"Fly me over to the boat! I'll tie this to it, and then you can drag it toward the shore!"
While he sits on Kawrock's back Eldon quickly casts haste to speed everyone up. "Let's go!"
Wren watches what happens but is still very confused about things. She's never been much of a sailor and doesn't have the strength to carry others. She tries to console the man.
"Oh, you'll be fine, Dearie. Like you, I'm not much of a sailor. It seems like we'd both be dreadfully incompetent at sailing, the way you were guiding your raft to crashing," Wren chirps, offering comfort. "Don't worry, you're much less likely to hurt yourself as you walk on your own two claws than you were trying to guide that boat."
Vulture-rock grabs Eldon in his claws while the strange man continues to figure out some sort of mathematical probability for the chances of finding a giant vulture in southern Ustalav. The two swoop for the trawler, and Eldon neatly loops a prepared noose around the maidenhead. He then hops onto Kawrock's back and Kawrock flaps steadily as he tries to pull the boat to shore.
Meanwhile, Lena summons up nasty, rubbery black tentacles out of the rocky shore. The boat is pulled onto the tentacles, who immediately cling to it and absorb the impact. Quickly, she disables the spell before the ship is destroyed, and it comes to a rest, safely in one piece.
The man looks up, blinking as he realizes what's happened.
"You saved the Isinglass! Thank you strangers! Your rare giant bird has come quite in handy."
He moves to each of you, shaking your hands in turns as he stumbles over his words thanking you. He finally steps back to introduce himself.
"Horace Croon, at your service. I'm a dabbler, a thinker - an inventor of sorts. Ahem. I was out at the Tern Rocks you see.."
He points out to the lake. Kawrock had already spotted it before - a rocky little islet. On it are some tarps concealing ... well, something. Horace smiles, staring out at the rocks for a little while before he's nudged into speaking again.
"Right! Yes. Well, I was conducting experiments near the Tern Rocks with some new equipment I'm developing. I use the quay out there because darn hooligans keep vandalizing my equipment if I use the wharves in Ilmarsh. I had hired a crew of fisherman to handle my ship, but once the storm hit the scoundrels dove off and swam to shore! I quite nearly died out there. Anyways, how do you do? I am quite in your debt. What can I do for you strangers? It's so nice to see some new faces out here."
Arval looks really doubtful of the rope idea, a breathes a sigh of relief when Lena comes up with the weird tentacle idea. When the man starts rambling he stares at whiskey.
[smaller]"Another Eldon?! We have three now! I don't think I can take this..."
He says with a terrified look on his face.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Croon. We are happy to offer assistance...and less you need anything else, we need to get moving. We have to go to the south quickly," Wren chitters, pressed for time.
"Oh you're in a hurry then! Well, if you're going to Ilmarsh best of luck I'm sure I'll see you again. I must now make sense of what I have, my subaqueous research and exploration tests must continue!"
He wanders off to look over his ship, muttering to himself.
----
Lena's chariot makes the trip far more bearable than it would be otherwise, and you make it to Ilmarsh after only two days. You smell Ilmarsh well before you see it as the road makes its way through the Soddentimbers, a particularly musty, dank swamp that surrounds the town. You stop noticing the odour after most of a day traveling through the swamp, but it's obvious how the residents of the town get a reputation for having a distinct smell to them.
Ilmarsh is a small town of primarily antiquated, chinked, split-log buildings, though a few more modern half-timbered structures are found near the town square. The town is dominated by its wharves, and its clear fishing is far and above the dominant industry.
You arrive in the town more or less in one piece and with a rider to find, what do you do?
"Right... lodgings first!"
Eldon starts looking around for a place where the party can stay during their visit to the town.
"Maybe we can stay at the tavern, and gather some information there while at it?"
|
back at the boat
Lena gives the feather brain elf a nasty look
Wren, you have the sensitivity of a vulture. We are not in that much of a hurry. A couple of minutes won't hurt.
She turns to Mr Croon, ignoring any reply.
before we go, sir, are you sure you are all right.
Sorry about my companion, but the elf's mouth speaks often before the brain catches up. Your experiments sound most interesting, what is it you are trying to archive?
After the answer
That sounds like a worthy endeavour, but as has been said, we are somewhat pressed for time. We are following a scoundral who has crimes to answer to. You haven't send a horseman pass here, moving at pace?
She smiles at the inventor.
Later, at the town.
So as to not draw too much attention, Lena gets everyone to dismount from the chariot, and dismisses it.
Replying to Eldon, she says Good idea. Some food and drink would be nice, and perhaps some information can be had.
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Wren, you have the sensitivity of a vulture. We are not in that much of a hurry. A couple of minutes won't hurt.
Wren looks at Vladlena as if the halfling was crazy, which she is. Wren considers herself to be a delight, which of course she is. Wren is the most delightful hag toothed gossip if there ever was one.
She waits for an answer to the halfling's good questions, not even bothering to understand why the man wouldn't reveal his secrets to her.
Arval starts as they arrive at the town, having fallen asleep on the carriage.
"There already?"
He asks, still feeling very tired.
"What is that stink?!"
The burly warrior says as he follows after Eldon, his hand over his nose and mouth.
Kawrock follows the chariot into town still in his giant vulture form, lest he have to rescue another hapless sailor. Once they approach the town he lands and turns back to his regular, not quite as strange as a giant vulture, self. After getting a wiff of the town Kawrock comments, "Smells like it's ready to burn."