"Elemion is the rat, hoss." Mitarat says.
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Ryan's eyes pop open: "That thing has a name? Oh my... Well, greetings Elemion Plague-Rat, don't bite me, and I'll toss you my cheese crust".
Leaning, as always, on his 7 foot pole, with its simple cold-iron blade on top, Ryan wonders why the dwarf is going on about axes...
"Well, better get to marching while we still have daylight, as Sergeant Draghici used to say".
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Skilgannon noda in agreement with Ryan. For all the man's whining he had a good head on him and obviously a soldier's instincts. With his purchases done, he dona his new armour and shrugs on his pack, breastplate and Ranseur secured to it.
"Aye, let us be off. At 100 miles we will need to march if we are going to get anywhere fast. A scholar's stroll will get us nowhere!" he states seriously, waiting for the rest to be ready.
Mitarat looks around at the gathered party. Pointing specifically Ryan, Skillganon and Polanco, but addressing the entire party "You all sure you want to go out in that heavy-ass armor? Your funeral. Zephyr, you're fine."
Shortly after leaving Nantambu, you find yourselves under torrential rain. Mitarat seems unperturbed, "Yep, these happens pretty much e'ry day durin' the wet season."
The heat is oppressive, rain or dry. The insects are biting, though those who bought and used the small pots of repellent realize that this one dose will last for two weeks.
Also, please look at the handout link at the top. I put y'all in marching order. Please move it around if you have a preference.
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Zephyr does his best not to complain through the scorching heat and grueling march. He occasionally summons a floating disk for someone should they fall behind. In most cases, this is for himself, though he keeps a concerned eye on Khellek's condition as well. "The sooner we see this through, the sooner we get back to civilization," the half-elf can be consistently heard muttering under his breath. He also dries himself as often as possible using prestidigitation.
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Khellek really doesn't like the jungle.
For the first few hours of the first day he points out exotic birds, deadly plants and regales the team with stories of teams of explorers who went out and have never returned. As the day (and days) wear on, he speaks less and less, wilting under the oppressive heat.
"I am turning into a mosquito buffet!" sighs the irritated scholar.
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Polanco seems right at home in the hot and humid jungle " Aye lad this reminds me of the deep mountain regions in the Volcanous rregions. Ah ya just need to sweat in the right places Khellek and the STANK drives off the insects. "
He watches Khellek cataloging the wildlife and pesters him with all sorts of obvious questions. Why da ya figurr dem birds have the bright coloration. Dae'nt ya think that'd get them eaten?
and others of the like.
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"Well, master dwarf. One theory is that by achieving such vibrant plumage, the tinged fowl have an easier time attracting a mate. Theoman however claims that the brilliant red colour is seen as a marker of dangerous things, and thus is 'warning' off predators."
He starts to go off at length on the subject of tail colouration and the correlation between volume of plumage and rates of survival in different biomes.
"Tell me, good Polanco. How does a dwarf choose where he sweats?"
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Despite his fatigue, Zephyr grins at Khellek's query. "Good to see we're asking the right questions. Not quite sure about dwarves, but some elves and their ilk are known to not sweat at all, so detached are they from the physical world. Those minorities of the population show few signs of discomfort or trauma due to their environment, up until such an ailment becomes too much for the body to bear, at which point they keel over and feel all of the effects at once. Apparently even they don't know of a problem until then.
"No worries about temperature, toxins, curses, even stab wounds until they lay the subject out flat when they rack up. I don't think I've ever met one in person, they are quite rare. I may have once, a powerful elven Kalistocrat and mage in Druma. When thinking about it logically, it seems more of a curse than a blessing. But at times like these, I must find myself a bit envious of such resistance."
While Zephyr has forgone his stately robes in favor of more practical garb, he keeps his white blindfold-esque band of silk on at all times. Every morning, however, it appears as more of a bloodstained rag With a spell, the half-elf alters it upon waking up to make it look like it usually does.
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Ryan looks right back at Mitarat, pointing at him in return: "My armor is not heavy, oh so perceptive non-Guide. And I can walk briskly to your funeral with it, since I have received training... oh, sorry, jungle-boy, like 'washing', you don't know that word".
Ryan just trudges on, not listening much to any explanations about the local fowl, explanations he does not really understand.
Heat or rain, he just plods along, polearm in hand, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that might be moving in to attack him.
In the evening he removes his boots, and massages his feet, and washes them carefully before the next day's trek.
Ryan is content to walk in second place, and he will volunteer to "take whichever watch you want. First, last, middle... I've no spells to learn".
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Polanco thinks on it for a moment. As though he was just asked "how do you blink?" or "how do you eat?"
"Well lad, ye see we sweat as a means of cooling down, but it'd be right useless if you had to sweat all over useless body parts like yer arms or yer legs. So ye just think 'where am I hot?'and you just let the sweat out there. Bet if you sweat out yer arse a bit, it produces a right nasty repellent dat's what I've been doin' "
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"I am not sure I trust a blind druid. Did you not just see me purchase leather and place my armour in my pack? I hope your Jungle sense is better than your eyes." Skilgannon snorts, taking off at pace, his long legs and powerful stride easily eating the miles now he was free of the restriction of his normal armour.
As they march, the heat beats down on their group and Skilgannon finds himself swatting insects as much as often as low hanging branches. Making sure to use the Insect repellent purchased from Aya each morning, he feels confident.
The party quickly realizes even the lightest of armors is heavy and constricting enough in this dense and humid jungle. The sweat sticks to them closer than they thought possible, and forms quicker than a wizard can prestidigitation it off.
Shortly before lunch on the third day, Mitarat is surprised the flow of a local river. "Stronger rains than normal," he mutter to himself before he leads the group upstream to another place that they can ford the river more easily .
Unfortunately, just as he and Elemion dive into the river to secure passage, the party notices three kitten sized mosquitoes.
One of these magical beasts is able to charge forward and attack Zephyr
The creature's barbed proboscis jabs into Zephyr's skin, and Zephyr can feel himself lose blood.
Then Orange and Purple
Then Khellek, ryan and Zephyr.
Zephyr, 1 pt Con Damage
Mitarat isn't really part of this combat though I will let him throw a rope over when he gets across if any of your want to run away from these things.
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Seeing Mitirat's surprise, Ryan sighs, muttering about surprise not being a great Guide skill.
Having no idea of what is special about these surroundings, or what these critters are, Ryan simply sees that it is hostile, and so his reflexes take over, and he cuts at the skitter with his Glaive as it comes buzzing in.
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Spying the quicksand before him just as the Dwarf calls out, Skilgannon swiftly pulls his feet back as he release the catch on his wicked Ranseur, bringing it to bear. Focusing the righteous anger of Gorum, Skilgannon can feel his muscles bulge and his fighting spirit heighten. Swinging quickly, he aims to cut the closest Sturge in half.
for
for
Ryan sees the creature and is even able to react in time to swing at the tiny bugger, but his split attention between the sullen mumbling and the strange creature causes him to just miss with his glaive.
"I heard that, Ryan!" Mitarat yells as he continues his breast stroke.
Skilgannon, on the other hand, is able to slice through a central blood reservoir of these strange mosquito-like creatures. Both he and Polanco are splattered by the blood that filled the Orange stirge's stomach.
The purple stirge seeing its broodmate get absolutely pulverized knows enough to try to avoid the thing covered in stirge guts
But it's careful flight takes it directly into the axe of Polanco. While still twitching, Purple is also out of the fight, and will die in moments.
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Thinking that at least the river washed the wax and grime out of Mitarat's ears, and seeing the mosquitoes are down, Ryan drops his glaive, yanks his silver morningstar from his belt, and swings with both hands at the skeeter that is trying to suck Zephyr dry... wondering if he'll bash his companion too, thinking that this is why the Society should come up with some medical insurance plan.
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"I think you brawny types have the worst of this covered," Zephyr notes as he grimaces in pain. The half-elf steps away from the creature and, on the off chance it survives Ryan, throws a quick one-two punch in the stirge's general direction. Unbeknownst to the others, an unseen, arcane pair of fists mimic the move.
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Kehllek steps back from the nearby mosquito.
"To arms my friends. Remember when the Taldan phalanax was attacked by a squad of flying devils during the Cheliax succession wars? They responded with a deadly fusilade of missile fire."
Aside from offering advice, Khellek fumbles around with Bessie, trying to get the crossbow off the attachment that fixes her to his belt.
"Never fear my students. Just as soon as I have my crossbow out, I'll be able to drive them off."
The remaining pathfinders are able to take out the remaining stirge before Zephyr suffers from more blood draining.
Mitarat gets the party across the river. Unfortunately, as they continue on, some of them start feeling the effects of traveling through the jungle. Mitarat has you carry on for a few more miles, but eventually has you make camp as you're near the borders of what the Ekujae claim as their lands (though still far from the village proper).
As you wake up, some of the party feels the pressure from traveling through the jungle.
As Mitarat leads the group deeper into the jungle, he says "There's clearing up ahead that I've known the Ekujae scouts to rest at. I'd like to meet them there, and try to negotiate passage into their village."
But as they get closer to Mitarat's clearing, its clear that someone is there.
"Y'know, we'll get a good price for you in Bloodcove. Y'know, you probably be left alone if you didn't burn down Nightfall, you damn point-ears" a half-elf says. He's accompanied by two humans, and both humans have bounded elves kneeling in front of them. The elves are battered and bleeding.
"Wait, I hear something," the Half-elf says. As the party can partially see through the trees, so can Walou see the party. "You're not Ekujae. What are you doing out here?"
"I don't like this," Mitarat says, as he and Elemion move to hide themselves in the brush.
Walou pulls out a scroll and says few arcane words
Ready to go
Zephyr
Ryan
Khellek
Then Green then on deck
Skilganon
Polanco
Then Red
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"What's for breakfast? I feel hungry. Hot feverish and hungry, like after a night with.. well, what's for breakfast?".
Later, at the clearing, Ryan sighs when he sees the guide flee again... then he trudges along, glaive in hand, plodding down the path, going around the bushes at the turn and moving into the clearing, where he lowers his polearm: "Hoy, fellows! Got any tea, or such that fight's the fever, to spare?"
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Sweating profusely, both from the heat and the disease that is slowly wracking his system, Khellek calls out to the team.
"Pathfinders, while we are not all members of the Blade of Liberty, we do Cooperate with them. Since time immemorial the society has thwarted the wishes of slave dealers. Perhaps now is a chance to win friends with the Ekujae."
The elderly scholar starts muttering something about designing a quick release catch for his crossbow as he fumbles around with the hook on his belt. "I'm sure it's here somewhere."
"Ware the potent magics. Only one of those people is real!" he calls out.
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"I have a guess as to who these humans are, given two of their talking points: Bloodcove and Nightfall," Zephyr says airily. "Regardless, let their lights go out." With that, the half-elf stretches his hand, from which motes of darkness fly. They encircle the eyes of the man and seep through his skin, soaking him with their necromantic energy.
Walou shouts that he can't see. His thug drops the bow that they had drawn, and makes a careful step to stab at Ryan with a rapier. But the agent is unable to pierce through Ryan's armor.
Now Up
Skilganon
Polanco
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Feeling fine despite the heat, Skilgannon starts as his companions rush off into the surrounding jungle. Rushing forwards with Ranseur drawn, the Gladiator makes use of the easier range of movement afforded by his leather armour by moving at a blinding pace. In the centre of the clearing he points his Ranseur at the Agent in red and narrows his eyes.
"I would back off now..."
The other thug drops the bow and lunges forward with a rapier at an odd angle towards Skilganon
The thug laughs as her rapiers finds contact with Skilganon's skin and draws a trickle of blood.
Walou frantically draws a wand. He tries to follow the footsteps of his opponent, and luckily for him, both Ryan and Skilganon both wear much heavier armor than his compatriots in studded leather.
He activates the wand at Skilganon.
The blind mage's spell flies off harmlessly into the forest. Well, not exactly harmless, as a poor parrot falls to the ground, most of its feather melted away.
UP NEXT
Zephyr
Kellek
Ryan
Nerisel.
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Perseverance is always an admirable virtue, but there comes a time when it is wiser to give up, Zephyr analyzes and begrudges credit towards their opponents. He calls to them even as he fires off another spell, this one a pair of force blasts. "Lacking eyesight is no picnic, eh? I should know. If you see the sense in standing down, I can fix that right up. That said, my continued assault shows how I likely I believe you are to do so."
"Your arcane missles are nothing! I'd rather fu--" Walou's defiant response to Zephyr is cut short as Ryan's glaive pierces his heart, killing him instantly.
Green, not having a better place to move to avoid the glaive and ranseur, stays where is and attempts to pierce Ryan again.
Up Next
Skilganon (-4)
Polanco
While it doesn't look good for the last remaining aspis agent, she takes solace that she hasn't been hit yet. She take her luck against the dwarf.
But her rapier does little against Polanco's scale armor.
Up Next
The party.
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Khellek continues his history lesson. "And then the Taldan phalanx turned the tables on their ambushers! By holding a disciplined formation and regular use of their crossbows, their initial losses were capped and the militia quickly fled."
He then pulls the trigger on his crossbow and then looks around for a another bolt to put in.
"I'm sure I put it somewhere convenient."