Any sense of triumph Penance feels at the terrible dragon, the thing that's hung over them like a shadow for so long, being defeated.... fades quickly, as the world begins to shake around them. "Damn!" he roars.
"Telemakos! Can you walk?" he shouts as he runs on the gore-spattered beach to dig the gnome out and get him on his feet. He hauls him over one shoulder like a sack of grain and starts towards the canoes.
"Get to the boats!"
"C'mon, Abadar," Penance whispers in a prayer. "See us home. Back to where we're supposed to be... I'll start going to church or something..."
Mauled by the dragon, Telemakos gets up on one elbow, then lifts himself up-right. He is terrified. His only thought: call down the wrath of Heavens and Hells on this dragon.
And then Penance and Emerion do just that themselves.
“Oh… that… that was very well done” he bites down the spell he had ready “Yes, truly. Master Penance, Master Iliante, Master Coates, Master Nimlaidas: good job everyone!” he tries to clean his clothes from blood and sand and chunks of dragon. He fails.
Then, still shaking, he realizes We won! “Perhaps we were hasty with our plans to abandon our exploration. We did defeat the “big guy” of the island, and that sort of makes us the big guys, doesn’t it? We could prob…” then the world starts going crazy, quakes and storms and wind “Yes, well, maybe not so hasty, maybe just at the right time. Let’s go.” he runs towards the canoes, and is even picked up by Penance. “Master Penance, is that really necessary? You did heal most of the damage, you know.”
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Devram laughs as he sees the dragon fall to Penance and his butcher's blade. He slashes at the beast's face and cuts off a tentacle, catching it out of the air. He the proud joy is cut short however, when the island gives its retort.
"To the boats! Whatever this place has left, I think it's going to throw it at us!" The Aldori scrambles towards one of the canoes.
Iliante numbly follows through his plan to reload his revolver after shooting the dragon between the eyes. As the wind and quaking shakes him from his shock, he asks to anyone, "Did that dragon say father?" What could father that aberration? He holsters his revolver, and then picks up his almost empty cylinder and stows it in his bandolier. He hustles to pick up and stow his crossbow. He prepares to swim with his revolver and bandolier going into his Haversack.
He follows his companions to help them to their boat.
As the dragon dies and his second devil appears, he is about to give it an order when things turned even worse then they had been shortly before. Still his mind keeps working despite his bodies fear clawing at him. He rushes over to the dragons body and reads from a scroll, unlike the others this one did not disappear with the spell. He rolls it up and places it in his scroll box once more.
"I think we are over due for our departure."
He signals the devils and uses them to fly to their escape boat, along with the remaining agents that can't fly.
"Do not fear my friends, we didn't leave empty handed. If nothing else we have our lives and maybe more if luck holds."
The agents and Iron Fist push the canoes out to sea and begin rowing their way north across the tempestuous waves. Even with their outriggers, the long canoes have a hard time maintain stability as the wind and waves grow by the minute. Soon a lashing rain begins to fall, as the sky is covered in the angry black thunderheads of the oncoming storm. Every back and muscle in the little boats bend and strain as one, rowing instinctively together. It takes no great intelligence to see that their lives depend on it.
Before long the agents lose sight of the other canoes and even the people sitting more than a few feet away from them in the rainy darkness. The sounds of creaking oars, roaring wind, and crashing waves make talking impossible, and their worlds are reduced down into the terrifying nexus of water and wind that are their immediate surroundings. This continues for hours, until their hands are bleeding from gripping the oars, and their backs burn with a constant fire. Adrenaline has long since given way to dogged determination, yet the desperate people continue to push their canoes further across the angry ocean. A flash of lighting reveals that at some point during the ordeal, the other boats were lost. Only the agents' canoe remains within sight. To make things worse, they have had no way to navigate properly, and cannot be sure that they are even heading in the right direction. They row and row until their bodies reach the point of breaking. Their muscles are screaming for relief, their palms have rubbed raw until all that's left is broken skin and blood. Hope begins to fade...and the agents consider resigning themselves to a death drowning in a mad god's swimming pool. Then, a sight both terrible and joyous looms through dark, illuminated by a lightning flash - the Hungry Mists! Apparently Abadar, and Nethys heard the cries of their servants, or maybe they're just lucky. Either way, hope floods back into the agents' hearts as they see the barrier between their own world and this hell.
Better yet, it seems the storm's power is weakened in the proximity of the Mists, and a ribbon of the evening sky beyond the mists is visible. Iliante is able to determine their position based off that of the sun, and directs the canoe which way to turn up the wall of Mist. In the relative calm at the edge of the Mists the rowing becomes easier, but not much faster (exhaustion has long since taken its toll). The storm continues to rage to the canoe's left hand side, growing worse if anything. Watching the towering waves and rain cut off and peter out at the edge of the unseen barrier is one of the strangest sights the agents have ever beheld. Finally, they see it, the arched passage through the Hungry Mists, and their gateway back home. A ragged cheer raises from the lips of the few remaining mercs and the hobgoblins sharing the canoe look to the agents with hope. The Khaan turns from his oar and asks them, "Is this it?"
"Home!" Iliante says to himself with a broad smile after they finally pass the Hungry Mists. The past month feels like a nightmare. Maybe it was. With the luck that they've had, he looks for signs of the kraken to swallow them whole.
"Yes!" Penance shouts to the Khaan.
He's exhausted, and his armor feels like it weighs a solid ton, but there's been no time or space in which he could spare the time to strip off the steel-- his arms have been needed to help pull on the oars. Every muscle burns with exhaustion, but Penance tries to find some last reserve to keep them going forward. "C'mon now, pull, all together!"
The canoe turns into the gap, and begins the passage back to Golarion. Thoughts of rest and safety allow the tired passengers to draw on reserves of strength that they didn't even know they had left, and push out the final distance. The passage is just as it was a month ago, the mist walls rising above and over them. The interior of the mist is quiet and still, and their canoe feels tiny in the massive passage. After a few minutes the warm sunlight of the Obari Ocean floods in from the far end of the passage. As the canoe exits the Hungry Mists, they sight the brightly colored Naga's Breath floating at anchor across the waves.
"Finally! Khaan, that beauty is our ticket home!" Devram pushes through his exhaustion, continuing to paddle towards the large ship.
"Hey! We're here!" he shouts.
Iliante breathes a sigh of relief and slips into the water to rehydrate. He swims around the canoe on its way toward the Naga's Breath. He may never recover his sanity, but swimming starts the therapy. He hums the tune to his aunt Dori's song, just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.
The hobgoblins look shocked and terrified, first to see so much water. Secondly, to see a ship so large. "I thought we were going to a new land! Not the belly of a wooden monster!" the Khaan exclaims.
The Agents guide the canoe up to the Breath and the galleon's crew quickly drop ladders, and bring them all quickly on board. Beyond the five Bronze Agents, only eight hobgoblins and three mercenaries survived their ordeal on the Island. As they come onto the ship the excited atmosphere of those waiting quickly gives way to confusion and worry as the crew sees the state of the expedition. Captain Wangerre is waiting for them, still wearing his frayed captain's uniform and sporting that magnificent mustache. Jaavela is waiting with him in a cute little white linen shirt and green silk skirt. She runs to Penance, "My gods...are you okay, Penance?" The dark woman rests one hand softly on his armored chest, looking up into his face with concern.
The Captain approaches in her wake, "I say! Whatever happened to you all on that Island? You look as if you'd journeyed through the nine Hells." he says, harrumphing his mustache. The captain frowns daintily at the hobgoblins, "And for the love of Gozreh's hermaphroditic nether bits, why have you brought a band of savages onto my ship? Are they slaves?"
"It's no monster," Penance says, letting the oars finally rest for a bit in his bleeding hands. "Just a really big canoe..."
He breathes deeply, staring up at the sunny sky, and air that already feels less oppressive than the island's humid jungle.
He clambers on board and, despite everything, a crooked smile takes over his face the sight of Jaavela. Talk about a sight for sore eyes...
"Ah, 'm fine," he says with a lot more cockiness than he really feels, shaking out his aching, bleeding hands. "Killed a dragon today, fled certain death... that sorta thing. Lemme wipe my hands off and I'll give you a proper hello."
At the captain's words, he turns a yellow-eyed glare on the man. "They're warriors worthy of the name, and allies," he says shortly. "The Consortium will have work for them. They may be savages, but damn if they're not good bastards to have at your back in a fight."
The terseness fades from him and Penance stares back into the mists, just now coming to terms with how many men the Khaan lost... how many men they lost.... and the two agents who don't get to come home again.
"Nine hells sounds about right," he says. "Or maybe that island is a tenth, all-new kind of hell. Never been so glad to see a thing in my life as the sight of your ship waiting for us, cap'n."
Penance starts unbuckling his dented and damaged armor right there on the deck, appearances be damned. "I'll tell you all about it... if you get me drunk as hell. For now... can you turn the prow back to civilized lands? The Consortium will need our report... though I know already they won't be happy with it."
That's an understatement. Thousands on thousands of gold pieces' worth of gear and men's lives got thrown at this expedition. The Consortium, in their mercenary measurement, will likely consider it a failure, Penance thinks.
But he's alive. He's breathing. He's going to count that as a success.
To the Khaan, in Ork, he says, "I... am sorry so many of your tribe fell to the waves, Khaan. But there is a new land waiting for those who survive. A land where the one you call God has no reach."