You manage to find some shelter in the ruins of the fort just in time as the worst of the storm begins. You hope the awful weather is enough to keep the wolves from where you are holed up - and that proves to be the case.
In the morning, the weather is better - without going as far as to say it's good. From the ruins of Fort Landing, it’s easy enough to follow the tracks of Iramine’s party. Grum has come down with a fever and makes it clear he would be a hindrance at this point. He says that when his health improves, he will catch you up. He points out the start of the trail of the cultists, and once you see what he sees, it seems straightforward to follow the signs of movement.
The cultists, whose trail leads to the east, follow a relatively straight course over fairly dry ground and travel as though they aren’t expecting anyone to follow them. There's no doubling back, no false trails, and no attempts to cover their tracks.
Their path leads due east into a swamp.
You've been on the island 24 hours now and have seen no sign of any more creatures when you are surprised by a figure emerging from the nearby brush.
It is a human man with his arms raised high and bearing no obvious weapons. He is about six feet tall, with a tangle of long, dirty red hair and a long red beard, wearing tattered, hole-ridden clothes soaked through with mud and stained black in many places. Even before he gets close, his stench precedes him — it’s not only as though he hasn’t bathed in years, but that he seems to have actually gone out of his way to cover himself in the most horrible smells the Isle of Terror has to offer: a blend of rotten eggs, human waste, and decaying organic matter.
An arrow is lodged in the back of his right leg, but seems to cause him no pain as he sloshes through the waters of the swamp. Suddenly he stops. His eyes go wide and he loudly exclaims, “I found you!”
"And here I was not realizing we'd been lost." Rain's words are accompanied by a shocked expression as she reflexively recoils from the unkempt man and his profound odor.
Grobradon gives his brother a pat on the shoulder and heads up after the others. He's glad for the easy path and obvious trail ...then he sees the swamp.
"Ugh. I hate swamps. Gunk gets in your armor..." But obviously there's little choice.
You've been on the island 24 hours now and have seen no sign of any more creatures when you are surprised by a figure emerging from the nearby brush.
It is a human man with his arms raised high and bearing no obvious weapons. He is about six feet tall, with a tangle of long, dirty red hair and a long red beard, wearing tattered, hole-ridden clothes soaked through with mud and stained black in many places. Even before he gets close, his stench precedes him — it’s not only as though he hasn’t bathed in years, but that he seems to have actually gone out of his way to cover himself in the most horrible smells the Isle of Terror has to offer: a blend of rotten eggs, human waste, and decaying organic matter.
An arrow is lodged in the back of his right leg, but seems to cause him no pain as he sloshes through the waters of the swamp. Suddenly he stops. His eyes go wide and he loudly exclaims, “I found you!”
"And here I was not realizing we'd been lost." Rain's words are accompanied by a shocked expression as she reflexively recoils from the unkempt man and his profound odor.
Grobradon is no lilac himself after a good sweat, but this fellow makes his red hued eyes water, "Uh huh... and YOU are?"
Rythan took a few steps back, trying to inconspicuously clamp a hand over his nose and mouth. Since that was hard to do inconspicuously, he didn't draw further attention to himself by speaking. He just lowered the sword that had leapt into his hand and tried not to imagine what the wild man had rolled in while waiting for his answer.
The man stares into each of your eyes, briefly, before looking into the distance.
“Venture-Captain Tree Roots said we should come to… island to island and then we left the city and swam north, keeping abreast of each other to fend off fish and then we swam and swam and we swam for years and came here to the island and we went inside the island and saw its heart and it was black and we knew it was black and we came out and we were black and then the blackness consumed them, ate them alive, ate me alive, and then we were all dead all dead all dead and I was dead and they were dead, and they were dead and I wasn’t dead—do you see? I was alive! I was alive and they were dead and then I lived here and I lived in a tree and a cave and in the ruins and I saw, I saw, I saw things, and then the men in masks came and they fought the lizards and many died on both sides, many died, oh yes, many died and they did not get back up they were not dead like me and they headed to the doors, to the many doors by the river, the many doors where I slept once when the storms reached down and grabbed me. They are there now, they try to open the doors come with me, yes, come come come with me. I can show you where they are.”
"You want the people in the masks stopped? They shouldn't open these doors?" Rain looks at the others and shrugs. "I can get on board with that."
Rythan nodded seriously to the man. "A generous offer. Please excuse us while we discuss it."
Pulling his friends aside, he whispered, "Do we really want to go with him? They'll smell us coming! Besides, this guy is a few nuts over a fruitcake. Did you see that arrow in his leg? He's probably fevered. And what about him being 'dead but alive?!' I'm just saying, he might just get us lost in the swamp rather than leading us where we need to go."
[dice=Sense motive]1d20+2
In his current mental state, it's hard to ascertain a motive. He doesn't seem to mean you any harm.
[dice=Know: religion to determine if we're talking to some kind of weird undead]1d20+6
Not undead - definitely living.
"Well, yeah, he's obviously insane, but that doesn't mean he can't be helpful to us."
"Poor bastard," Grobradon mutters, "Maybe after this we can get him to some sort of care... at a temple, a REAL temple of a goodly god."
The pungent man appears to be waiting for you to interact with him again.
"Alright, you can show us, but if you betray us, we're going to be seven shades of cranky, understand?" Grobradon finally says, realizing that none of the others are making a choice on this.
Heledar observes the man as he speaks, and comments to the others - "We could certainly use any help we can get. I do feel sorry for what this man seems to have been through, perhaps I can assist with his wounds and condition - I am not sure though..."
He then moves closer to him - "Would you allow me to take a look at that wound in your leg before we move along? You need to get rid of that arrow" - he offers smiling - "I can help"
If the man allows him to approach, he grabs the opportunity to try and assess both his mental and physical condition - trying to understand if the man is indeed feverish, how long that arrow may be lodged there, and if there is any point in removing it, or if it would make things worse, etc.
"Arrow, what arrow?" He looks at the back of his leg and reacts as if he's seen the arrow for the first time.
"Damn those men in masks. Nearly caught me too. They didn't understand my knowledge of this terrain was so good, eh?"
The wound is smelly and leaking blood and pus. You are able to stop the blood flow and apply a poultice that should counteract the infection. You doubt his mental state is caused by the wound though.
As you tend his leg, the man mumbles incoherently, pulls a journal out of his pocket and scribbles a few notes before returning the notebook to his pocket.
Seeing the man make a few notes in what appears to be a journal or book of some kind, Rain grabs at an idea. "Oh! Is that a book? I do so like books. Would you mind if I looked at it while we walk?"
The man smiles at Talarin and hands over his notebook. His grin reveals several missing teeth.
Then he points east and starts sloshing off in that direction, "No time like the present. I can lead you to the men in the masks."
The battered is full of scribbles, and not all of it is easily legible. It says that he is Dusan Dremlock, a Pathfinder and clearly the only survivor of an expedition sent to the Isle of Terror from Absalom nearly 10 years ago.
The book tells of the toll of simply surviving the long, lonely years on the island - and his writing has become progressively worse and less lucid as it continues.
It seems Dremlock tried to communicate with Iramine and her cultists, but they attacked him and nearly caught him.
He writes that he believes that the 'men in masks' are here for the City of Golden Death. His most recent scribbling says that you have either come either to stop them or get the gold for yourselves. Either way, as you didn’t attack him on sight (like Iramine did) he plans to guide you to the entrance of the City of Golden Death.
He also expects you to take him with you when you leave the island.
Once the decision had been made to follow the old man, Rythan shrugged philosophically and followed willingly enough. He did his best to stay upwind of the man's stench, though.
"Are you Drusan? You've been here a very long time, I'm afraid." Rain continues to make small talk with Drusan as the he leads the group. Her statements and questions all phrased in such a way as to inform her companions and reveal what's contained in the journal.
Then he points east and starts sloshing off in that direction, "No time like the present. I can lead you to the men in the masks."
"Lead the way friend" - Heledar replies - "We shall follow suit"
Grobradon nods quietly at Rain, realizing what she's doing by sharing the name, and more. And yes, he follows Drusan
Drusan leads you to a cave deep in the darkest, most overgrown part of the swamp. Inside are all of his earthly possessions: a couple of ratty backpacks, a broken short sword, a mouldy blanket, a waterskin, and a heavy wooden shield missing half its circumference.
A barrel stands at the back of the cave, in which he’s piled an assortment of tubers, leaves, and dried meat of indeterminate origin.
He stuffs both backpacks full of food, straps the broken shield on his back and the broken short sword at his waist, and grabs the waterskin.
All the while he mutters about the properties of the various leaves and tubers, some of which you know to be true and wonder about his explanation of the others.
Some fourteen miles east of Fort Landing along Iramine’s trail, you come across a campsite on the swampy southern shore of Whispering Lake that appears to have become a scene of battle.
Here you find the bodies of nine Razmiri cultists left out in the open and clearly gnawed upon by scavengers.
Scattered about the cultists are the corpses of at least three dozen black-scaled, reptilian humanoids with morningstars and heavy wooden shields. They also carry the odd mutations on their bodies - similar to the wolves.
At the sight of the corpses Rumha snorts, "If we wait long enough, this island will do our job for us."
Rythan frowned at the reptilians. "They do seem to be making it easier for us, but I'd hate for us to run into them. Our numbers aren't nearly as great as those of the Razmirans, and they got torn up. Drusan, do you know what they are? Maybe we'll have an easier time avoiding them if we know a little more about them."
"Lizardfolk," Drusan says, matter of factly.
This confirms what you suspect, but the blackened skin and eyes are not typical of the lizardfolk you are aware of. Again, it seems the island has played a hand in creating this hybrid - perhaps the negative energy storms that plague the island hold a clue?
Rain shudders at the sight of the lizardfolk corpses and subconsciously grips the handle of her whip a little tighter. She moves through the scene of battle, carefully and systematically searching the Razmirans and lizardfolk bodies for useful items or gear.
"Ugh. This island'll likely get us too if we're not quick about things."
Talarin looks around and sees nothing out of the ordinary.
"So far our best hope as that opposing sides took each other out to point where they're weaker and don't have numbers on us like they used to, but with the changes that have inflicted them, I'm not sure I want to see any of US grow a third eye or something. I'm pretty enough the way I am," He gives a fangy grin for emphasis
"I am not the best tracker in the world... But perhaps we could gather more clues here? Like where the groups came from, how many there were, how many left, and in which direction?" - Heledar comments, starting to look for clues around the killing zone.
Rumha follows suit on the effort to track the different parties.
Between you all you identify that the surviving Razmiri cultists fled quickly to the east at the conclusion of the battle while the lizardfolk survivors turned west toward the Lingerlost Swamp.
In fact, the lizardfolk have circled back and come upon you as you explore the battlefield. They leap out, brandishing morningstars, directly engaging in melee combat.
"They are upon us!" - Heledar urges - "Stand fast!"
"Well, looks like we get a work out," Grob says, blade drawn
Rumha touches Grob and convey a Bit of Luck upon him.
Rain fades back a step towards the group as she plucks the wand from her belt. As the magics settle over her, she wryly opines, "Great. Another welcoming committee."
HP: 28/28
AC: 21 (13 T / 18 FF)
CMD: 16 (18 vs disarm)
F/R/W: +2/+6/+4
Second Chance: [ ]
Shadowstrikes used: 0/7
Shield charges used: 2/42
Spell Slots:
Cantrips (--) - arcane mark, dancing lights, daze, detect magic, ghost sound, mage hand, prestidigitation
Level 1 (4+1) - [ ], [ ], [ ], [ ], [ ]
Ongoing Effects
shield (1/10 rounds): +4 shield bonus to AC
Rumha and Talarin both act before the lizards strike.
Only the chief is successful with his attack - managing to cut Rythanus with his morningstar.
"Gah! Does anyone speak their language? Tell them we're not with the Razmirans and we don't mean to trespass!" Rythan yelled, wincing from the cruel blow.
Rumha calls on the Gods to bless the group.
Rain uncoils the whip hanging from her hip and lashes out at the larger lizardman's Morningstar.
HP: 28/28
AC: 21 (13 T / 18 FF)
CMD: 16 (18 vs disarm)
F/R/W: +2/+6/+4
Second Chance: [X]
Shadowstrikes used: 0/7
Shield charges used: 2/42
Spell Slots:
Cantrips (--) - arcane mark, dancing lights, daze, detect magic, ghost sound, mage hand, prestidigitation
Level 1 (4+1) - [ ], [ ], [ ], [ ], [ ]
Ongoing Effects
shield (2/10 rounds): +4 shield bonus to AC
bless: +1 to hit/+1 vs fear
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"Gah! Does anyone speak their language? Tell them we're not with the Razmirans and we don't mean to trespass!" Rythan yelled, wincing from the cruel blow.
[dice=Con save]1d20
You are now poisoned (and it was a Fort save). It will kick in next round. Effects? -2 Con until cured (no saves allowed here). And -1 Con per turn until you make 2 saves in a row.
In summary - next turn -2 Con. The turn after that -1 Con and your chance to save. The turn after that -1 Con and another save chance. Between us we'll keep track.
"Itheik! yth re ti dout wioti! yth slathalin wer munthrek!"
"Wait! We are not your foes! We fight the human cultists!"
"Am I supposed to wait until they decide to talk or kill me? Because this is a bit nervewracking" The half orc holds his action
The lizardfolk don't seem to be the sort to be reasoned with, despite Heledar's words!
Rumha casts a spell nd Talarin uses her whip but fails to connect with the morningstar.
The chief swipes at Rythanus but this time misses.