"If I recall correctly, around this time a ferry and the ticket house should most absolutely be operating... I must council care, companions."
You scout the ferries, ticket house, and loading ramps as stealthily as possible. Checking the muddy waiting yard, you find a great deal of footprints, though most of them seem to have been made before this afternoon's rain.
Suchak is checking a wagon ramp near a boat named The Copper Wing when he notices an odd scrap of paper.
One Night Only at the Lamid Amphitheater!
Sophia Lasilaran and the King's Players Present:
Performance Begins at Dusk
It's rather an impressive sight, watching a whale gulp in mild panic.
"...so, chaps; would you forgive some consternation at the fact that this play involves the color yellow?"
"That...is not good. Anyone feeling up to taking in a play?"
Podrick nods with rare grimness.
Horn-the-loping-terejakk's toothy maw closes in what might be a terethunderers' grimace.
In a low, reptilian voice, he says "Very well then. Lets continue on to Lamid."
The group climbs aboard the Brass Fin and unties it from its mooring. Horn is chained to the winch in the center of the boat and slowly cranks it across, though he strains a leg muscle pushing through the current.
On the docks side, Suchak can smell the familiar odors of ripe fish and sewage. However, the taverns are unusually dark, seemingly empty, and as the group comes up through the mercantile district they see not a single shop open. The bar Podrick and Aught rested in is shuttered as well. There are sometimes lights visible in upper stories, but as far as the group can tell no one is left outdoors. Until they hear screaming.
As you approach the Town Square, hoping to investigate the Lamid Amphitheater, the screams grow louder. Rounding the last corner, you see a group of humanoids in front of a great haphazard wall of piled carts, boxes, and rubble. The people look to be triaxians and gnomes from all walks of life - some in the tightly-tailored outfits of shop-keepers, but others wearing the triangle-cut tunics of local farmers, and others seeming to only be wearing pajamas. As you come closer, though, you can see that all garments are torn, muddy, or bloodstained, and the humanoids carry swords and light shields. The screams sound like they're coming from beyond the barricade.
The band seems focused on someone in its center, a triaxian with basalt-colored skin and wrinkles around his eyes. He seems to be the first to notice the approaching poet-whale, terejakk, and companions.
"Halt! Are you friend?" he says, raising his torch up above the heads of his fellows. The band of townsfolk turns to face you, and you notice two sentries on top of the barricade do so as well.
Exultant in the water, Podrick swims along next to the boat, four glowing white-and-blue lights shining above him, illuminating the party's journey through the current.
"Constable Radcliff" Podrick whispers to the group. "Close friend of the mayor, tread carefully."
The cetakin casts a worried look towards the barricade.
With Podrick's warning, the winter guard takes a more defensive hold on his bardiche.
He whispers to his companions "...those screams... They came from beyond their barricade. We must get beyond the wall."
"Ho, Constable! We come in friendship! We've been tracking the source of a destroyed town and it seems we've arrived not a moment too soon!
One of the townsfolk, a gnome with half a pair of glasses tied in front of one eye, waves their dagger at the approaching group. "Hey, you aren't by any chance Podrick of Mudsedge, are you? I've heard of your works!"
Constable Radcliff nods wearily to Suchak, then looks down at his grey-suited underling. "Are they trustworthy?" he asks in a scratchy voice.
The gnome nods, but is cut off by a particularly shrill screech from beyond the barricade. "The King came for us all, and he granted us the wisdom of Carcosa!" calls something that sounds like a man.
Radcliff turns to face the newcomers once again, and you can see the wrinkles under his eyes are purple with weariness. "Welcome, travelers. I would offer you hospitality, but with the current state of Lamid I'm afraid there is no time. Will you help us man the barricades? And - would you be willing to send that great tere over to fight what lies beyond?"
Horn-the-Great-Tere speaks, saying "This is not my usual form -- I am Horn of the Ghoan Plains, Season Keeper. Still, tell me of what lies beyond and I may well fight, as best I can."
Radcliff looks up at the terejakk with a start. "A - a Season Keeper! Thank Erastil," he says, inclining his head. "Two nights ago, something horrific happened in the Amphitheater. Our friends, family, and neighbors turned into monsters - monsters nothing like teres, or stilt-runners, or even frost worms. They are intelligent, and they know it is just a matter of time before they whittle us down and eat through the rest of the town."
As Radcliff finishes saying this, you hear the same voice shouting from beyond the barricade, "He chose some, they are his children now!"
The constable gives a weary sigh. "Those that didn't turn foul went mad, and most of those had died by the time the militia arrived. There's at least one left, somewhere in the bottom of the Amphitheater. Geoff." He coughs, then looks in the eyes of each traveler in turn. "The mayor. If you and perhaps your companions could disperse the mob of monsters and save Mayor Bresnik, the militia can handle the rest."
The gnome with the broken glasses chimes in. "Watch for Kthunk Cihlar. He was once a hero, here, but his family's magic is strongest when the Stranger shines and I believe that made his corruption all the worse. He was a gnome, like me, and carries a greataxe even now."
Crunching over the remains of a few shattered lanterns, you enter the square.
The great terejakk nods to the gnome. "We will do our best."
Turning to his companions, he turn again into the form of a whirling wind and says, "Let me summon some more Ghoan plainsrunners to aid in the coming battle. Once I summon them, I can grant us all haste as well, as Podrick did in our last confrontation."
Horn will cast his spells from atop the wall of rubble, so that the plainsrunners don't need to scale it.
_____________________
"Hold, hold" counsels Podrick, raising a cautioning fin. "Let's see what we're dealing with first, mayhaps?"
Rising up from the ground, he peers over the barricade at the transformed villagers.
Aught tries his best to ascend the makeshift barrier as quietly as possibly, yet, under his weight, he can't help but cause some noise. He apologizes to the others for being so noisy as he dusts himself off.
Podrick can see several corpses from on top of the rubble wall. He also notices a familiar three-pronged symbol drawn in blood on one of the wagons down below.
After Horn casts his first spell, Aught, Horn, and Suchak hear bubbling, clicking sounds from ahead. The sound goes on.
The squishing, clicking sounds continue even as the group climbs down, moving forward into the square. From the same area, everyone also hears a strange susurrus like a hundred triaxians whispering. Further south the man in the square shouts, "The Harbinger brought us gifts from the King in Yellow!"
The squishing sounds suddenly cease. In the light of Podrick's ice-blue torches, you see a small figure running towards you. The green-skinned gnome-thing rests the tip of its gore-caked greataxe on the bloodstained street, waves its undulating mandibles at you, and draws a cloud of gangrene-green vapor out of midair. The thick vapor quickly spreads twenty feet high and forty feet wide, obscuring your view of the rest of the square and the gnome itself.
"Oh dear" mutters Podrick distastefully at the vile creature.
"A nauseous cloud... It should not persist for more than a minute!"
Horn-the-whirling-wind shifts and extends, whirling faster, until he is a 20' tornado, reminiscent of those that send dustballs rolling across the Ghoan plains.
He says, "Allow me to handle this." and motions to his Plainsrunners not to charge in until the cloud is gone. He then flies above the cloud and starts to funnel it harmlessly away from his allies...doing his best to avoid smelling it in the process.
Podrick also thinks that the gnome-thing's gelid form is so amorphous that he must be hacked apart wholly to be destroyed. His coruscating flesh is an affront to the minds of creatures of this world, and he is thus slightly harder for those creatures to hit.
Horn-as-the-whirling-wind wafts above the ground, kicking up clouds of dust as he moves past his summoned plainsrunners. His form of the gyre quickly adapts to the sickening fog, and he quickly clears a good section ahead of the group. His furthest plainsrunner momentarily panics as the wind passes over its head, but snorts happily when the noxious fumes around it dissipate.
The travelers still cannot see the mutated gnome, but just after Horn whisks through the cloud they hear the sound of something very large moving. Surging out of the mist are a throng of transformed triaxians much like you saw in Hallowfeld; you can hear many more behind them. They wield crude spikes and pitchforks in something like mockery of the townsfolk you just left moments ago.
As he clears a swath of space behind him, Horn-the-whirling-wind catches a glimpse of the raving man in the square. Then he hears the mob coming their way.
He nods to his plainsrunners and they go through the space he just cleared, stampeding over mob and then the man in the midst of his ravings.
Horn sees the Ghoan plainsrunners tearing out of the fog with great lacerations along their flanks, but still alive. The creatures charge down among broken seats, bodies, and into a pool of dark water at the bottom of the amphitheater. They trample the unarmed triaxian into the water, and he does not rise.
Suchak enters his defensive stance and teleports to a nearby roof, then proceeds to run across the rooftop to find a better vantage point.
Suchak sees a press of hideously deformed triaxians wielding broken timbers, stones, discarded weapons, and farming implements. They are moving chaotically towards the street he just escaped from, gurgling and thrashing feelers and gelatinous wing-fins in what seems to be anticipation. In the center of the mob, on the edge of the nauseating mist, he can see the gnome still grips its dark-slicked greataxe, fresh blood running down its face.
Looking over the edge of the mist, he can also see the Lamid Amphitheater in the center of the square. It has been torn to shreds - seats are broken and corpses are strewn everywhere, and at the bottom, in the center of the stage, are three feet of brackish, dark water. The Yellow Sign has been crudely drawn on most every surface he can see.
Aught steadies his bardiche and eyes Suchak as he runs on the rooftops.
What could he possibly be doing?
He moves forward, hasted by Podrick's magic and settles near the stinking cloud.
A rising chorus of notes in whalesong ripple out across the square.
Phantasms of the deep rise to my aid, tricks of current and heat and salt... ARISE!
Scattering reagents from a purse strapped to his side, Podrick summons into existence a mighty cube of rock-hard coral to entrap the crowd utterly, forcing them close, unable to move. On his allies' request, a blink of concentration enables a window in the coral to retract, allowing arrows and magics to pour in.
Podrick's illusory prison quickly confuses the mob, and they seem to be readying their makeshift weapons.
The gnome in the center of the chaos throws back its head, turning its skull inside-out and exposing a nest of writhing tentacles. It gurgles, weaving the tentacles back and forth, and seems to cast a spell, but Suchak cannot see any immediate effect. It then slides further into the toxic mist, moving out of sight of the sky-priest.
Horn manages to hear a telltale gurgle and squilurp as the once-gnome moves into the mist, betraying his location.
He stills his stomach as best he can and methodically clears away the rest of the noxious cloud before rising higher into the air above the town, looking for a better vantage point.
Meanwhile he motions for the bloodied plainsrunner-spirits to once again enter danger, sending them on a path to trample over the mob and the thing that was once a gnome.
______________
Horn-as-the-whirling-wind whisks away the rest of the cloud, leaving only a stinking pocket inside the building Suchak sits atop. The crowd of transformed triaxians roars and whimpers in yet more confusion as wind swirls around their heads.
The plainsrunners lower their horns and charge up-slope again, aiming for the song-built wall of coral that hides the squirming mob. They veer too close to the gnome, though, and his blood-caked blade swings with incredible speed out of the darkness.
The gnome cuts the left legs off the first plainsrunner, and it skids through the wall of coral, dissipating into dust. Before Horn can issue a warning, the second's head is bouncing down towards the pool of water. And as the third plainsrunner charges up towards the wall, its belly comes open. In seconds, each plainsrunner's form quickly reverts to a scattering of plain Ghoan soil.
Suchak and Horn see the mob swarm up against the walls of its new prison, trying to tear them apart.
Though the squirming horde swings their timbers and pitchforks, they seem not to notice their weapons have no effect. Meanwhile, the ones on the inside of the mass look upward to the sky-priest on the roof.
Suchak, watching from above, suddenly notices a contingent of the mutated townsfolk have started throwing their weapons towards him. The volley of stones, fragments of metal, and shards of glass rain down on the clay roof around him.
Suchak enters his rapid throwing stance, paying no heed to the tossed objects of the mob below.
Suchak's first throw goes too far, sailing through the wall of coral before returning to his belt in an instant. His second slices through part of the gnome's rubbery skull, lightly wounding it, but his following throws seem to waft sideways at the last second and miss like the first. You notice he seems to be bleeding slightly less than should be normal, and his strength seems to have increased even over that provided by his magic.
The blade lops off one of the gnome's lashing tentacles, and it hisses in anger.
Podrick remembers finding a book about these creatures while cataloging Garen's library back in Mudsedge. According to the research in that volume, half-farspawn creatures seem to have senses much like the slug-creatures the group fought earlier, though their echolocation is of a much higher pitch. They are not immune to mind-affecting spells, but as the gnome is no longer really a gnome, it would not be affected by spells targeting humanoids. Half-farspawn are immune to poison, which might explain why this individual included himself in the cloud of vapors.
Podrick also thinks that the gnome-thing's gelid form is so amorphous that he must be hacked apart wholly to be destroyed. His coruscating flesh is an affront to the minds of creatures of this world, and he is thus slightly harder for those creatures to hit.