Drovya slowly lowers his bow and returns the arrow to the quiver. He stays silent, trusting the others to do the talking but remains wary of the daemonic boatman. As he puts away his bow, he racks his mind for any knowledge of these creatures.
The Deacon of death erupted with a hardly-audible laugh at Kanthuun's attempt at courtesy.
"How rare. Politeness... even if it comes with ulterior motives."
A boney hand extended from the boatman's sleeves as he took the coin.
"Make your way onto the skiff, little maggots...,"
The words were said with something of a fondness, or a mockery of it (the latter of which being more likely).
Something rippled in the water off-shore, bringing a pile of mucus to the surface that reflected the dim light from the ferry like oil.
"Be quick about it, too... lest the Ba'abzt changes its mind and takes the weakest. I will not stop it."
Without further prompting Drovya steps onto the skiff. He takes a place near the center and distractedly itches at the infected bite on his forearm.
The... Ba'abzt, that serpent-aspected creature in the river, that is its name? I have never seen one before. Quite charming. I shall have to study up on it.
As he speaks, he scans the surface of the river, watching for the beast to resurface.
Arasmes nods gratefully to the boatman, and boards the skiff. He gestures for the others to do so as well "Let's not keep the boatman waiting, and avoid getting eaten as well, shall we?" he turns to the boatman then "And thank you for the ride. It is appreciated."
Petrova gets on the boat, too. She nods to the boatman, bowing respectfully.
Talon will wait for the others to board before he steps onto the boat. "Yea, getting eaten is something I avoid."
"Don't mention it, hunted."
The fiend finished this sentence with violent, hacking coughs (one of which dislocated the ferryman's lower, fanged jaw, which righted itself moments later).
Drovya felt the creatures eyes on him, even though the Thanadaemon was looking elsewhere.
"That monstrosity is a larval beast from Leng. A rash Venedaemon brought it here as an egg, hoping to gain favor with Szuriel. She, being in a foul mood, caused it to hatch and eat the winged failure before exiling it to the river."
The boatman stopped his explanation and struck his staff into the water, turning it into an oar as Hanethes jumped on the skiff.
"Might I ask... where you are going? Official messengers?"
Arasmes chuckles at the story and says, in a somewhat bored tone at the boatman "Procurers, really. We've been sent out to acquire something unique and interesting. You haven't heard of anything in particular like that, have you?"
The skiff was moving now, and the ferryman didn't even need to keep the staff in the grotesque river.
"My, but you're a curious bunch of loathesome children...
There's always something to be had."
The fiend's cloak and hat ruffled in a passing breeze.
"But-," The tone, however raspy, seemed both patronizing and flabberghasted, "-as servants of Apollyon," the boatman turned back to look at Drovya with his left eye, which flickered with sinister flames, "I would imagine you're going to that lovely little camoflauged shantytown up the way of those cute little dead hunted that think they've succeeded in hiding from their masters? Hm?"
Kanthuun stands in the middle of the boat, takes out the Wayfinder and examines it, nodding to the daemon. "Being that places, directions, and of course, that which we seek are all in flux in this land, we cannot say for certain about the proper path save for a given moment. However, if you would be so kind as to indicate the direction of this shantytown, I will attempt to confirm that is the place to which we should proceed." Kanthuun offers another slight nod, as if to bow from the neck up only.
Drovya manages not to wilt under the unnerving gaze of the Thanadaemon while resisting the urge to grip Black Ivan for comfort.
As our tracker says, Drovya nods towards Kanthuun that very well may be our destination. What are you willing to tell us of the place? And the dead hunted, I take it you gave them passage. It might be best if you tell us what you know of them.
The thanadaemon pointed a gloved hand in the same direction as the wayfinder's compass, chuckling once more(if one could call it that).
"I might... have ...given them passage, but I assure you they paid the toll three times over."
More coughing ensued.
"They have numbers on their side, but... I hardly smelt transformation... amongst them in the time I took them, group -HACK- by group."
This oration took some time, as the Thanadaemon seemed preoccupied with sliding a few beads on the skiff in place with one hand whilst rowing with the other.
"I assume ...they gave their town some sort of name, but I seldom go their way. Somehow, they've kept the-HACK- cacodaemons at bay, though... or else they'd all be caught by now.
I believe you're to reward them for this by sanctioning them, if only temporarily, in exchange for setting up the tribute, yes?"
A shrill bell cried in the far distance behind the party. The boatman responded by pulling to the left as what appeared to be another skiff shot by almost too fast to be seen, leaving behind only an overwhelming scent of blood.
"Traffic.. today," the Thanadaemon hacked for a few seconds. "- Been a lot more movement of late. Something's got Szuriel on edge, but you didn't hear it from me."
"Any idea what's gotten her riled up? Not that I really care or anything. The tribute should be interesting enough." Talon asks nonchalantly.
"As long as it does not interfere with obtaining our prize--but if it does, then we do care. Indeed, boatman, it appears the shantytown is where we should disembark. It sounds...fascinating."
Kanthuun purses his lips and looks to the rest of the group.
"I'm not sure that a group of fugitive souls will be overjoyed to receive us in their fair hamlet. We should keep our motives hushed when possible."
Arasmes nods emphatically "Indeed. No need to have those in the town become concerned before it is necessary to reveal our mission."
In an effort to distract the Thanadaemon from Arasmes and Kanthuun's conversation, Drovya seizes on the first thing that comes to mind and asks the boatman, Those beads you are adjusting, what is their purpose?
"Mm... -hack- I don't..think.. I'm at liberty... to say."The boatman responded to Talon's pressing.
Several of the beads the boatman was pushing gave out a pale green light in blinking sequences.
"I, mortal... I am setting... our folding options... Lest you'd rather be in my boat for years, I must... fold... conform... distance... to coherent terms. Close for you and... close...-cough- for your tiny selves... different."
Nothing visible changed, but the trip started in earnest. It lasted nearly four hours.
Arasmes sat calmly through this time, talking of inconsequential things and being generally pleasant, but a bit more reserved than usual, with a few cruel and biting remarks directed at people not present thrown in. Presumably as part of their cover, though his comments towards one particularly greedy and chiseling merchant seemed fairly sincere...
Talon just lets the subject go as the trip goes on. "We there yet?" He asks impatiently.
Kanthuun looks for a shoreline, then looks at the Wayfinder.
He mutters to himself, semi-respondent to Arasmes, hunched over the Wayfinder. "...aye...thrice-damned shipments of pesh...no jackalweres here at least...I wonder if that town has a public house with something to wet the throat...what could possibly be brewed there?...probably has blood in it..."
After a point, the boatman seemed to have lost interest in talking until the boat reached its destination.
The skiff came to a halt on the shore dominated by a fiendish jungle. The cries of life were off-tune, and the amount of insects buzzing around, if one had to guess, was at least twice as loud as it should be.
"Welcome... to the Jungle... of Arrest..," The boatman chortled.
"Mind the mosquitos."
The thanadaemon pressed his bony fingers together.
"Your destination-," he began one of his now all-too-familiar hacking coughs,[b]"-is hidden by illusion, but look for the... tree... with eighteen notches in... the lowest branch. Should be... a straight shot from -wheeze- here."
"Thanks for the ride." Talon says stepping off the boat. He starts ineffectually swatting some insects flying around him. "Tree. Eighteen notches. Lowest branch, got it."
"...feel better, boatman." Kanthuun disembarks. He draws his hat and cloak around him, shrugging elbows and shoulders and puffing air at the flying bugs in what looks almost like an absurd dance move. What exposed skin he shows ripples slightly with unease.
Drovya hastily disembarks from the skiff, shooting glances back at the daemon boatman in expectation of a double-cross.
Thank you for the swift journey, may the screams of your victims linger in your ears. He bows slightly, and steps onto the pestilent shore, scanning the treeline as he does.
Arasmes nods at the boatman as the disembark "Yes, our thanks for the ride."
He surveys the jungle calmly and professionally, keeping an eye out for anthing unusual. Though the Gods only know what's unusual here.
Petrova scampers off the skiff, careful not to touch the water of the Styx. "Indeed. I'm not sure if chicken soup is appropriate fare for you and yours, but get well."
Perception:
Nothing jumped out in any way, aside from the occasional tainted insect. The trees towered almost beyond what the eyes could see, but the bark seeped pus-like sap.
"Again with the decorum... What strange, strange...," the ferryman stopped to wheeze some more,"..mortals..."
The ferryman eyed the group as they acclimated.
"Woman," the fiend motioned to Petrova with a decayed hand (which, by chance, contained an object on a chain (a whistle made of bone, perhaps?), "If you manage to survive this errand, you may... -cough.. need my services... once again. Keep this.. close... Doubt you'll get such an offer again."
Petrova approaches and gives a slight bow to the ferryman. "You are very gracious, sir. I will keep it safe. Only in the gravest of emergencies would we consider disturbing you by using it."
"Good. Abuse.... would be highly unhealthy."
The ferryman then turned his skiff around and disappeared into the fog.
" I think he likes you." Talon says after the boatman takes his leave.
Petrova watches the boatman vanish.
"He is a well-setup gentleman. A lady could do worse." Her gaze rests briefly on her would be suitors before she turns her attention to the jungle ahead.
"You're right. You could do Arasmes." Talon laughs at the set-up. He looks towards the jungle, but cannot find a trail despite his best efforts.
Arasmes laughs lightly "Indeed, I'm quite certain that indulging yourself with me, fair lady, would be a true tragedy for the world as a whole. Nobody else could remotely compare with me, afterwards, and all men everywhere would be saddened by the loss of the chance at your exquisite companionship." his tone grows more serious then "On a more serious note, I am a professional hunter and occasional tracker, and these appear to be some old tracks leading into the jungle." he says the last with a slightly melodramatic gesture at the tracks in question, and continues in a slightly amused tone "It might be wise of us to follow them, assuming our little device agrees with them on the general direction we should be going."
Kanthuun consults the Wayfinder with a now-practiced flourish.
"The direct route given by our little trinket may not be the best through this jungle, I know that much. Arasmes, what do you make of those trees? Indulge us with your professional opinion," Kanthuun says with a smirk. "I doubt that sap is medicinal."
Drovya resists the urge to draw Black Ivan for what seems like the hundredth time since arriving on this gods-forsaken plane. He itches irritably at the festering wound on his arm and thinks fondly of the ease and comfort of holding the black blade in his hand. Abruptly, a thought occurs to him and he speaks it aloud.
What do you all suppose the Thanadaemon meant when he called our quarry the 'dead hunted'? Do you think they may be undead, or is it another figure of speech?
The already eclipsed sky started to undergo a visual change as the party spoke. The red and sole light source became somewhat obscured by dim, corpse-blue clouds seething with energy.
Arasmes shrugs at Kanthuun "I've never seen their like before...but give me a few moments and I suppose something might come to me. In any case, following the tracks seems a good plan."
He turns to Drovya then "And I assume he means they are some of the damned souls who call this plane home. They are dead, and were once mortal like us, which is what 'hunted' means to such creatures. Though in this place, I suspect assumptions are dangerous, we'd best be prepared for them to be almost anything."
A look of deep worry crosses Drovya's face. I do not like the looks of those clouds my friends. I have read of great storms in Abbadon and this looks to be one. If we are lucky, it will only be an oppressive thunderstorm. If not, it could be anything from hail, to acid, to fire to frogs. This hidden settlement may be our best defense against whatever falls from the sky. We should make haste, and be prepared to present ourselves as soul traders, at least, that is my opinion. Whether we follow the tracks or the device, let us make haste.
"Drovya's right. We need to get shelter and quick."
Arasmes nods quickly "Very well then, let's be away. The tracks seem our best bet, and the device agrees with them on general direction." and proceeds to follow the tracks in question.
Kanthuun glances to the skies. "If we are caught by the storm before we reach our destination, I'll throw a rope up and give us shelter. If it's acid..." Kanthuun can't think of a way to mention his acid resistance without sounding a braggart, notices that the party has already started moving, and huffs to keep up with the sturdier melee types.
The Shadow Dancer is right behind them.
As they enter the plague jungle, Drovya draws Black Ivan and for a moment an almost beatific smile changes his features. The moment passes, and his face returns to its usual dour countenance. He busies himself affixing his weapon cord from pommel to wrist, keeping a wary eye out as they make their way into the dense vegetation.
Best to be wary. he speaks in a hushed tone, almost as though it were to himself. There is no succor here, and shelter is not sanctum, if we even reach shelter.
"Do not look for safe harbors here. For every moment of respite will be filled with its own agonies."
Hanethes says as though quoting from a book, though it might be startling for some of his companions as it is the first he has spoken since they boarded the barge.
Kanthuun replaces the Wayfinder and pulls out a metal rod, managing not to trip on any litter or roots in the process, trying uneasily to count the number of hours that have passed since he cast Mage Armor.
Some of the vines obstructing the way are reacting oddly to the party's presence... hungrily, perhaps?
You are in the presence of assassin vines, though the number is difficult to tell thanks to their entangle ability. They are immune to electricity and resist fire and cold. Luckily, they are very slow to move.
Talon's eyes open wide when realizes what is near the party. "We should get moving, like now. We seem to be surrounded by assassin vines. If we go now, we can lose them. They're really slow, but if they do catch you... Well don't let them catch you."
"Beware the vines!" He shouts, but not before Talon has already reacted to their presence.
He makes ready to bolt as soon as the party indicates their direction, but he draws his dueling blade just in case.