My guardian! Mineko sends across the link, the thought traveling far faster than words ever could. Watch for the beast to approach and then strike, force it to come to us.
Snorting to himself, Komainu-Kun shook his head, the golden marble curls shaking ever so slightly. My lady Empress, I have guarded over a hundred of your line, I know what I must do. The Foo-Lion replied in an ever so gentle rebuke.
Nodding to herself, Mineko raised her crossbow and trained in on the crab as it clacked its way through the surf towards the leaders of the dwarven expedition. She quickly loosed a bolt before turning the handle on her crossbows crank to draw the bowstring back to its locked position.
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Seeing Komainu snort and stand his ground, Maven stretches her fingers around her grip and rolls her shoulders in anticipation, increasing the pace of her breaths just slightly to keep up with her pulse.
Just hafta wait till he does somethin' stupid and crack 'im open, then we're havin' seafood.
Maven's feet shift just slightly, digging into the sand. As the stone shelled monster draws near, her stance widens and her muscles coil.
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Angrin's eyes narrow as he gazes at the shield, and he nods in response to Dakún's words. "Yer right. The folk that lived here were killed... an' by somethin' not quite as thorough 'bout searchin' as we are." Honesty makes him pause, then add. "Well, than ye are. I've done naught, so far." He grins self-mockingly, but looks around quietly. "Anyhoo. Let's get those skeletons out, eh?"
Angrin frowns then, considering Rogath's questions. "I think tha' we can't tell yet. Say, d'ye have the spells t' talk with 'em? I know some priests do, but if ye don' it's no harm done. Well, very little, I guess." He frowns, then shrugs, helplessly as he keeps an eye out for threats while Dwunderbran helps the Desnan priest down the well, then finally adds. "Be careful! They migh' get up an' attack." The trapsmith shudders at the thought, taking a single step back from the well. "The bodies, I mean."
"We are all part of the whole that makes up this expedition, Angrin, we need not dwell specifically on one contribution over the other. We have yet to fall into any traps and your insight has been of value. You are without fault." Dakún Rabbúhamash was not the most skilled individual at cheering another man up, but he had sensed that Angrin was feeling under valued and rather than mollify him, Dakún spoke with simple honesty. Each member of this expedition brought a set of skills and the Pahmet was merely thankful that he was able to contribute and properly represent his kind.
Dakún moved to the lip of the well when Dwunderbran Vulgarbeard began to lower Rogath down into the well on a coil of rope. It appeared that the crude dwarf had more than enough strength to properly lower Rogath, allowing Dakún the chance to keep watch in case the dead did not wish to be disturbed. His Alkenstar crafted pistol was drawn from its holster, the recently polished weapon flashing momentarily as it caught a brief ray the setting sun.
"It is unwise to use Magrim's gift to communicate with dead of outsiders, without first seeking the blessing of the Judge." He said without remembering where he was and that he was no longer with his people. Decades of ingrained tradition were not easily erased and the Pahmet's respect for the dead was something Dakún could not easily disregard.
Angrin's warning was wisely given. These corpses had not been given proper burial and thus the souls might have fallen victim to the hateful powers which sought to twist the souls of the dead into abominations possessed of malice and spite.
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As Rogath climbs down into into the well, lowered by Dwunderbran, the other dwarves gather around the old riverstone walls and peer down into the depths. With sunlight fading, their view of the bottom of the well is a monochromatic scene of somber isolation. The skeletal remains are hard to make out from their height, but for Rogath the truth of their nature soon becomes all too clear.
Only one of the skeletons is an adult, shoulders and head above the water. It is barely held together by ancient flesh, lower jaw missing and stringy lengths of hair barely connected to a parchment-like scalp. The two bodies huddled at the corpse's chest are too small to be adults and not proportioned properly to be halflings or gnomes -- they're children.
As the history of the scene plays out for Rogath, the well feels colder than he expected. The echoing sounds of his own breathing seem to come from all directions, the moss-slicked walls closer than he remembered. The glint of metal around one of the neck of the adult skeleton resembles a chain from a necklace, and in seeing that the Varisian dwarf leans in off of the rope for a closer look.
Then the walls begin screaming.
The noise blasts up from the inside of the well like the wail of a banshee, the sudden deafening sobs of two terrified children and the panicked screams of an adult woman shouting, "Nei, nei, nei, nei, nei, "
The moment the screaming starts, Dwunderbran lets out a sound that is somewhere between a bark and a yelp as his hands reflexively release the rope, causing Rogath to plummet down the remaining ten feet to splash noisily into the ice cold water, his feet touch the bottom and he is able to stand, but is trapped in the well with the skeletal corpses and the tormented wailing of their lost souls.
Having released the rope, Dwunderbran scrambles across the grass, sprinting away from the well and nearly falling over in the process. Likewise Dakun retreats, scrambling backwards away from the well with his pistol shaking as he brandishes it towards the opening, his mind awash with all manner of horrors that could emerge from over its edge.
Angrin's heart pounds in his chest, but his feet do not budge. The dwarven scout feels every hair on his body standing on end, the sobbing of the children and the wailing of their mother ringing in his ears. But all he can see is the rope tied around Rogath slowly slinking into the well now that Dwunderbran has let it go.
Rogath's down there.
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Quint looks pleased that he actually hit the creature. Of course it bounced of it's shell but at least he didn't make a complete fool of himself. He draws back for another shot while the creature rallies itself, releasing it in a smooth motion. The shot looks better than the last, but the dwarf doesn't waste time waiting for it to land, turning instead and hurrying back behind the front line. Only then does he look to see if the arrow found it's mark.
Scoffing that Quint went before him, as Dr. Logem was hoping to make the first shot with his familiar, Dr. Logem moves forward, next to the annoying creature that is Mineko's guardian, and readies against the giant crab's approach, flask of acid in one hand, obsidian dagger in the other.
Meanwhile, he whistles to his familiar, currently resting on Dr. Logem's shoulder with a flask of acid grasped in one claw, and the creature flaps upwards and towards the crab - nearing the creature, and using its momentum to help its throw, Tusen half-throws and half-drops the flask at the crab, its aim precise, even thirty-feet away.
Chitinous shell bubbling with acid and an arrow lodged in a chink in its armored hide, the gigantic crab scuttles out from its rock formation with a keening shriek and a froth of bubbles at its mouthparth. The hug crab looks around at where the splash from the acid has dissolved the soft shells of its children, then turns to look back at the intruders.
With a snap-clack of its claws, the crab ambles through the tide pools, huge pointy legs digging into the sand and overturning rocks as it moves. When it finally hits the sand it begins speedily scuttling sideways across the sand, all six legs rapidly moving it towards the dwarves.
My guardian! Mineko sends across the link, the thought traveling far faster than words ever could. Watch for the beast to approach and then strike, force it to come to us.
Snorting to himself, Komainu-Kun shook his head, the golden marble curls shaking ever so slightly. My lady Empress, I have guarded over a hundred of your line, I know what I must do. The Foo-Lion replied in an ever so gentle rebuke.
Nodding to herself, Mineko raised her crossbow and trained in on the crab as it clacked its way through the surf towards the leaders of the dwarven expedition. She quickly loosed a bolt before turning the handle on her crossbows crank to draw the bowstring back to its locked position. The shot finds itself bristling up from the sand, rather than the crab, and the injured beast continues its approach.
Seeing Komainu snort and stand his ground, Maven stretches her fingers around her grip and rolls her shoulders in anticipation, increasing the pace of her breaths just slightly to keep up with her pulse.
Just hafta wait till he does somethin' stupid and crack 'im open, then we're havin' seafood.
Maven's feet shift just slightly, digging into the sand. As the stone shelled monster draws near, her stance widens and her muscles coil.
<< | | The Rocky Beach >>
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It seems they chose their position well, as Quint turns back he watches the crab scuttle towards them. He hadn't been sure he'd be able to get into position to take another shot before it reached their defenders... including the now hulking Logem. He'd heard of such things, but not seen them before...
He shakes his head, clearing the distraction from his mind, raising his bow to fire past Maven and the others and hopefully find his mark once again.
________________
Seeing that acid hurts the beast, Dr. Logem hefts the now-tiny-in-his-hand flask of acid and throws it with all of his now-impressive might, hitting the crab and shattering the flask, causing acid to spray all over the creature and the rocks below. As the rock and sand sizzles from the acid, Dr. Logem prepares for the creature's inevitable arrival.
Sumetusen, meanwhile, continues flying foward and sees the crab scuttle beneath the small tumor; Fifty feet further out, Sumetusen does an impressive 180-degree turn and begins flying back at the crab, fully intending on doing an aerial charge at what counts as the crab's posterior.
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As Rogath secures his rope to his waist, he takes a moment to peer down into the well. "I have no fear if you dropping me, but I'm not sure the best way to go about recovering these bones for burial. Perhaps once I'm down there you can lower a cloth or bag of some sort that I can wrap them in?" He ponders for a moment, before looking back up. "I don't expect that they will bestir themselves while I'm down there, but if they do, I will trust to Lady Luck's favor and the strength of your arms. " To Angrin's question, he adds, "I know of the spell of which you speak, but She hasn't yet seen fit to instruct me in its mysteries. But then again, I have never had occasion to ask Her to do so. Perhaps tonight I will see if She will reveal them to me."
Taking hold of the rope, he climbs up onto the endge of the well and dangles his feet over. Queen of the North Star, protect me. He momentarily touches the birthmark on the bakc of his hand, and begins to climb down.
As the history of the scene plays out for Rogath, the well feels colder than he expected. The echoing sounds of his own breathing seem to come from all directions, the moss-slicked walls closer than he remembered. The glint of metal around one of the neck of the adult skeleton resembles a chain from a necklace, and in seeing that the Varisian dwarf leans in off of the rope for a closer look.
Then the walls begin screaming, and the rope begins falling into the well. A ten foot drop into water is not a huge one, even for a dwarf less than four feet tall. However, it is very unexpected, and he lands hard, with the breath knocked out of him. This turns what may have been a call for help or a curse into a barely coughed out "'esna". The lack of breath, however, does not prevent him from releasing a wave of positive energy which briefly fills the well with holy light instead of the more usual water.
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Angrin nods in response to Rogath's answer, grinning slightly. He really should be the one going down there, he reflects silently, as he had a great deal of experience in cramped quarters, but... The image of a skeletal claw flashes in his mind again, and he shudders. No. He would not go down there.
The moment the screaming starts, terror burns its way up the trapsmith's spine. Again. Something was happening again! Angrin trembles, torn between desperately trying to flee and the innate dwarven refusal to budge faster than they damned well pleased. Then Dwunderbran drops the rope. Rogath was down there. With the things that were screaming. No. No.
The screams of dead children and women burn in his ears as Angrin rushes to grab at the rope, holding it fast to keep Rogath from sinking in any deeper. Terror provides strength to his limbs, and he pulls as hard as he can, though he only pulls back a few inches before he sees the well radiate with holy light, a flash that sends him back to the Deep briefly, when his elder brother, Norkhan, blazed with similar light. Not that it availed him in the end... He shudders, tugging harder. "Rogath, lad, are ye well down there?"
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A pulse of positive energy erupts out of the well mouth like a billowing cloud of luminescent white smoke. Accompanying the gout of healing energy is a dissipating cacophony of screams. By the time the swirling clouds of radiance have escaped the well, the screams have subsided entirely and all that can be heard in the well is a faint clicking sound of stone on stone. The wave of terror that had washed over the dwarves outside of the well subsides, but there is not yet a sign of Rogath.
Down in the dark of the well, the walls rattle with noise. Faint stone-on-stone sounds click inside of the masoned walls, and Rogath knows that they are not merely the result of geological settling -- that is the presence of cowed spirits trying to communicate. Stories had been told around campfires in Rogath's youth about rapping spirits, the impressions of the dead that refuse to move on and try to communicate with the living. These spirits can perceive the world around them, but can only rattle the confines of their metaphysical prison in response.
For the time being the spirits pain has been soothed, their rage at the living quelled, and an opportunity to discover how to put them to rest has been gained.
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Scuttling furiously across the sand, the gigantic crab moves at a galloping pace like a horse. Suddenly the chitinous bulk of this aquatic crustacean seems terrifying as -- pincers snapping -- it rushes towards Maven. With a defianr roar, Koimanu-kun leaps in front of the priestess and smashes its brow against the crab's midsection, causing it to reel backward before the eidolon lunges in to snap a ferocious bite against its rocky hide. Koimanu's teeth rake across stone but fail to find purchase.
As the crab lunges in with serrated pincers at Maven, its claw hand is buffeted aside by a deft parry with the cleric's mighty earthbreaker, sending flakes of stone shattering off of its rocky hide. Acid bubbling through its armored flesh, arrows bristling up from where quint expertly targeted the crab's weak-points, the beast looks ready to collapse.
"Now!" Mineko shouts, thrusting one hand towards the crab in direction to the others, "finish it!"
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Attempting to follow through on her earlier parry, Maven finishes her draw back in preparation for a mighty swing, but is startled by the speed and force of the wounded beast as its pincers work further to prevent her strike. As she finds her center and pulls forward on the haft of her immense weapon, the crab shocks her by returning the parry as expertly as any trained soldier.
As the ailing crustacean snaps and fences with her, Maven takes the opportunity to shift position to surround the beast and keep its attention on her.
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Rogath slowly looks up after getting the wind knocked out of him and releasing his almost reflexive blast of energy. It's not that the holy light was bright, per se, since it wasn't actually light. But positive energy has always felt to him like it should be shedding light, even if that meant it would hurt his dark-adjusted eyes and light him up like a beacon.
As he registers the quiet that has settled over the well as the screams cut off, he notices the faint knocking sounds that come from no visible source. They're still here? But... they're calmer. I wonder... "Can you hear me?" he asks, in something approximating a normal speaking voice. *click* "Can you understand me?" *click*
Dragging the stories about rapping spirits from his memory, Rogath sets about trying to establish some form of communication with the spirits that doesn't involve loud wails in foreign tongues.
"If you can understand me, knock two times." *click* *click*
"If you would recognize runes, knock three times."
"Hmm, ok. If you would recognize them as I spoke them, knock three times." *click* *click* *click*
"If you're the spirits of those who died in this well, knock twice quickly, then twice again slowly."*click**click* *click* *click*
By testing the spirit's ability to use different patterns, and his knowledge of the practices of some fortune tellers who use boards of letters and runes to receive their "messages from beyond", Rogath establishes something along those lines by scratching such a board on the wall with a sharp fishhook, and a system whereby he can call out a letter, and the spirits can tell him to move forward or back by various increments. He also adds a few common words to have their own click sequences. It's a very crude system, but it should work for as long as the spirits deign to communicate. To anyone looking down from above the well, it would likely look like Rogath had hit his head when the rope dropped, since he's pointing at a wall and reciting the alphabet over and over with odd skips. Rogath is entirely unaware of the impression this may give, though.
His soaking wet clothes are entirely forgotten in the process.
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Dakún had a long history and culture of dealing with the dead. The spirits of the ancestors were revered and given proper burial to prevent them from being tormented in the here-after. It was the fact that he understood the torment and pain that had been inflicted upon these spirits that caused him such hesitation and sent shivers up his spine. Eventually the disquiet faded. He sheathed his pistol, knowing full well that the weapon would be useless against the incorporeal dead.
With slow, inching footsteps he came to the well's mouth again and stared down at his companion still trapped down there and possibily driven mad by the experience. A worried look filled Dakún's eyes as he met Angrin's gaze.
"We must help him. Only by granting the dead a proper burial will their tormented souls be granted rest."
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It seems they chose their position well, as Quint turns back he watches the crab scuttle towards them. He hadn't been sure he'd be able to get into position to take another shot before it reached their defenders... including the now hulking Logem. He'd heard of such things, but not seen them before...
He shakes his head, clearing the distraction from his mind, raising his bow to fire past Maven and the others and hopefully find his mark once again. The arrow sails through the air in a steady arc, but as it comes down atop the crab it clatters away off of its rocky hide.
Seeing that acid hurts the beast, Dr. Logem hefts the now-tiny-in-his-hand flask of acid and throws it with all of his now-impressive might, hitting the crab and shattering the flask, causing acid to spray all over the creature and the rocks below. As the rock and sand sizzles from the acid, Dr. Logem prepares for the creature's inevitable arrival.
Sumetusen, meanwhile, continues flying foward and sees the crab scuttle beneath the small tumor; Fifty feet further out, Sumetusen does an impressive 180-degree turn and begins flying back at the crab, fully intending on doing an aerial charge at what counts as the crab's posterior.
Scuttling furiously across the sand, the gigantic crab moves at a galloping pace like a horse. Suddenly the chitinous bulk of this aquatic crustacean seems terrifying as -- pincers snapping -- it rushes towards Maven. With a defianr roar, Koimanu-kun leaps in front of the priestess and smashes its brow against the crab's midsection, causing it to reel backward before the eidolon lunges in to snap a ferocious bite against its rocky hide. Koimanu's teeth rake across stone but fail to find purchase.
As the crab lunges in with serrated pincers at Maven, its claw hand is buffeted aside by a deft parry with the cleric's mighty earthbreaker, sending flakes of stone shattering off of its rocky hide. Acid bubbling through its armored flesh, arrows bristling up from where quint expertly targeted the crab's weak-points, the beast looks ready to collapse.
"Now!" Mineko shouts, thrusting one hand towards the crab in direction to the others, "finish it!"
Attempting to follow through on her earlier parry, Maven finishes her draw back in preparation for a mighty swing, but is startled by the speed and force of the wounded beast as its pincers work further to prevent her strike. As she finds her center and pulls forward on the haft of her immense weapon, the crab shocks her by returning the parry as expertly as any trained soldier.
As the ailing crustacean snaps and fences with her, Maven takes the opportunity to shift position to surround the beast and keep its attention on her.
<< | | The Rocky Beach >>
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Shifting his grip on his bow Quint stretches his hand out towards the crab, intoning arcane words in an ancient tongue. A barely perceptible force arcs from his hand and into the creature as he finishes the final phrase... but nothing seems to happen. He frowns in consternation as his early assumptions are proved correct, and he busies himself stowing his bow, his hand moving instead to grasp the hilt of his rarely wielded longsword.
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As the delicious meal-to-be scuttles forward and starts attacking the group, Dr. Logem side-steps the beast before plunging his pathetic-looking obsidian scalpel into the beast, aiming for the weak spot in its armor.
Meanwhile, Sumetusen, after doing a 180-degree turn moments before, suddenly swoops from his position, dive-bombing the beast from the rear, jamming it's beak into the beast using its momentum to help penetrate the armor. To those watching the small tumor, the thing momentarily looks more like a projectile than a creature.
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Several dozens of yards beyond the well, resting flat on his dwarven ass, Dwunderbran gapes at the eruption of energy from within the haunted well in slack-jawed terror, wondering at what horror might shamble out of the ruin dragging the likely demolished remains of what had been Rogath moments prior. That he has managed to avoid releasing his bladder is a wonder in and of itself, even if his stench would leave one to believe he does so on a regular basis. Moments seem to drag on for an eternity, until the cracking and tapping of residual spirits begin to attempt communication with the Desnan still trapped within. Ye blubberin' fool, be gettin' off'n yer arse an' go see if'n 'e be livin'! Forcing shaky legs to oblige, Dwunderbran begins the uneasy and crawl-pace back towards the cursed resting place of the former Ulfen settlers. His breathing is rapid and shaky, his lower lip quivering at the thought of incurring the thing's ire once again. They'd never let him live it down, though, so he presses on, pride barreling past reason and cowardice alike to drive the rancid dwarf onward.
Hearing Rogath's questions and tapping, he thinks the dwarf has gone mad. Turning a worried glance to Dakún, Dwunderbran shakes his head in dismay. He whispers softly so that those above ground can hear him. "Ah think 'e lost 'e's marbles, boy-o. Bandyin' words withae rock'n bones. Soddin', bleedin' blighters, ah should nae h've dropped tha' rope."
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Much like what happened with the Kraken, Doctor Logem finds himself face-to-face with a dreadful abomination born of the sea. Like with the Kraken, it is Logem's scalpel that finishes the beast off, plunged wrist-deep into its soft underbelly, cutting through vital organs and spilling them in a greenish-yellow heap onto the sand. The crab lets out a clicking gurgle before collapsing onto its side, leaving Sumetusen swooping down over its carcass in one last flyby.
"Unbelievable," Mineko gasps with a raise of one brow, looking questioningly to Logem, "what are the odds?" Koimanu-kun strides over to Mineko, nudging the crab carcass with one paw.
The Foo-lion's head tilts to the side, eyes upturning to the Doctor. "You should have been a fisherman," the guardian states, and it's hard to tell if that is actually jest or not.
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The sea crashes into the shore, gulls cry overhead and circle the site of the giant crab's death. It looks like meat is back on the menu.
"Well done all. Dr. Logem, would you care to drag the creature back for us or should we send for someone. We could even use one of our new sleds." he observes with a smile. His hand slides away from the as yet sheathed sword to slap Logem on the back in a convivial manner, while looking back towards the creature's nest. "Well, I suppose we'll need some help anyway. Shall we see what else the creature may have been keeping in it's nest?" he suggests, waiting for one of the more martially competent members (or Komainu-kun) to agree to accompany him before approaching the nest. It wouldn't do for him to find the creature had itself a mate.
"Drag it back to camp? No, get an underling to do so - my job here is done." As he speaks, Sumetusen lands on his shoulder and wipes away the mess covering his sleeve with a useful application of Presdigititation, once again returning Dr. Logem's clothing to a pristine state of cleanliness.
His scalpel also getting a taste of Sumetusen's cleaning skills, Dr. Logem sheathes the blade into his coat pocket and pats his hands. "I would doubt you would find anything of value; The creature is a mindless vermin, not some sort of hoarder. Should you, against the odds, find something of interest that may concern me, however, let me know. I would like to get back to my duties."
Heading off of the beach and back towards camp, Dr. Logem stops, remembering to add one last thing. "Once dinner is ready, have someone bring my portion to my tent, I will dine in private tonight." Not particularly enjoying Mineko's disbelief in his abilities, Dr. Logem does not stick around to be further annoyed by the woman, nor her guardian-turned-jester foo-lion.
Maven frowns at seeing the group split mere moments after the battle's conclusion. Having a choice to make was all well and good, but seeing the sudden shift in attitudes at virtually the same instant as the crab's death worried her a bit.
"Quint," she starts, hesitantly pondering her next thoughts, "Ah think we ought ta get the food back ta camp first. Cannae let it go bad after all the work we just did bringin' it down, aye? 'Sides, I don' think the cave's goin' anywhere in a hurry, is it?"
Quint frowns at Logem's abrupt, and quite rude departure and general attitude. He knew the doctor like himself was accustomed to finer things, and willing to ensure his position afforded him such things--their morning chat had shown that; pilfering from the salvaged supplies to claiming the coffee for his own--but such abrupt behavior was unexpected even so. What had even brought it on? Surely not Komainu-kun's jest?
He shakes his head as he looks away from the retreating figure of the doctor, focusing instead on Maven. "Well I hardly think it will spoil much in the few minutes it would take to examine the nest--certainly no worse than it will have from being doused with acid." he observes, a slightly condescending smile splitting his well combed beard. "But okay then, let's see about getting that salvage team back down here then and see if there's a sled ready for a field test."
As he focuses on listening for quiet taps, Rogath is oblivious to the quiet whispering of his companions peaking over the well. He continues the tedious, slow process of extracting information from the spirits.
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As the dwarves gather 'round the carcass of the rockcrab, sizzling with a noxious odor of low-tide and sulfuric acid, Koimanu-kun offers an askance look to doctor Logem as he begins to depart, eyes narrowing as he looks back at Mineko. The princess exhales a slow sigh, then looks to Maven and Quint with a furrow of her brows. "Later," she softly says in regards to the doctor's brusque attitude, and as she circles the crab the wind off the water blows in hard, the tides receeding with each crash of waves, revealing more of the bristling wood jutting up from the sand, tangled with netting and other detritus of the wrecked ships.
However, something else bristles up from this beach -- bones. Over the stink of low tide, the smell of decay is difficult to notice and when it is picked out over the briny funk, the source clearly appears to be coming from the tide pools. On closer inspection, there is a slouched corpse tangled up within the rocks, limbs torn apart and much of its bulk having been feasted on by the giant crab and its much smaller offspring that still scuttle through the tidepools.
At the rocky tidepools, the corpse is revealed to be a familiar one. While much of his body has been eaten, the distinctively braided beard and once fine raiments of a prophet of Kalistrade is still recognizable. He was once Halsiig Halfhammer.
Now he is just meat.
Drag marks in the sand from where Halsiig's body was hauled by the crabs lead away from the beach to a grassy patch on the cliff overlooking the beach, up a steep slope, where a wind-battered tent made of canvas flaps in the wind.
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Down in the well, the rapping sound of knocking stone seems like the last vestiges of sanity breaking away to those up top. To Rogath, however, they are messages from beyond the grave inferring words desperately desired to be communicated. Rogath's wish to know who these people were and what befell them is met with tangled and confusing answers. Using the cipher he devised for phrases, answers and letters he spends a few minutes getting the first of his answers.
The corpses in the well are Hilde Svaerthal and Igrun Svaerthal, settlers from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings who had come to Arcadia with hundreds more of their people to establish a colony in the name of the Jarl White Estrid of the Ironbound Islands. But when Rogath presses them for answers about how they came to be where they are, their responses become more frantic, more panicked, the rapping coming rapid-fire as if they were reliving the terrified moments leading up to their deaths.
Jorva did this--
but it wasn't him
father
his eyes were blood
his teeth fell out
I'm your wife, please stop!
no daddy, no
hide, hide!
it's burning!
please go away
why are you doing this
daddy please stop
we're safe down here
mommy, i can still hear it
it's cold
I'm hungry
I'm cold
I miss daddy
With that the spirits grow silent, at least for a time.
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Over the wash of sea and acid, Maven almost doesn't catch the scent. Thinking more on crab meat and familiar matters, her distracted mind takes a moment to register the unsettling smell.
"Wait." She whispers, eyes racing as she tries to home in on the source. "D'ya smell that?" The smell intensifies as she turns towards the pools. She knows what it is, but despite her urge to back away, she finds her feet carrying her forward, until she is able to peer over rocks and crabs to see the mutilated form of Halfhammer himself.
"Torag's mercy..." She covers her mouth as her body reflexively heaves once, spinning away to put distance between herself and the odor. The marks of crab pickings, the twisted limbs, and the now overpowering odor threaten to kill what remains of her appetite faster than the endless blue sky ever did.
Fighting to keep her stomach in it's rightful place and force the image from her mind, it's all she can do to call out "Dead Dwarf!"
As Dr. Logem walks away from the beach and those remaining on it, he is rudely interrupted by a hard tap on the side of his head. Sumetusen, his tumor familiar, had heard yelling; Through his empathic link with the small beast, not to mention the combination of the tumor tapping on the side of his head amd pointing back at the group with its beak, Dr. Logem had figured that much out. "Fine, fine, I'll go back, stop pecking me."
Sumetusen, feeling simultaneously proud of himself and annoyed at Dr. Logem's inattentiveness, decides to stay out of the 'pouch' on Dr. Logem's body, instead resting on the dwarf's shoulder. Through the empathic link, Dr. Logem can tell the familiar wants to make sure he doesn't miss anything else again.
Returning to the group, Dr. Logem surprises them by suddenly speaking. "I heard yelling." At the claim that he heard the yelling instead of giving credit where it is due, Dr. Logem is rewarded by another hard tap on the side of his head, along with another feeling of annoyance through his empathic link. Ignoring it this time, he continues, "Did someone find something of interest, or am I wasting my time by returning?"
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Dakún set down his pack beside the well and after a few moments of searching he produced his own line of work, removing it from the gunslingers kit he had purchased before he had departed Alkenstar. Holding the rope in his hands, he glanced down into the depths of the well to look upon Quint as he continued to tap repeatedly on the walls of the haunted pit.
"One o' us should go down into the well and retreive him fr'm the clutches o' the restless spirits. He and the b'nes both need t' be retrieved, one t' rejoin us and the other t' receive pr'per burial." Dakún said matter of factly. It was clear from his positioning that he did not want to go into the belly of the well with the spirits, but he would do so if it was needed.
It remained unclear to Dakún whether Quint was communicating with the spirits of the dead or whether his mind had been ensnared by a madness due to his proximety to the screaming of the incorporeal dead. Both were possibilities and neither sat well with the Pahmet. Communing with ones ancestors was one thing, but the dead of other races could be lie and twist the truth as well as any living human could.
Quint himself is starting to turn away to organize the salvage party to collect the crab when Maven speaks. He turns back, pulling in a big lungful of air, slowly nodding. "Yes." he agrees, frowning as he casts his gaze about, squinting against the wind ruffling his plentiful hair. He follows Maven as she drags her feet towards the tidepools, his left hand raising up to pinch his nose closed against the offensive odor, stronger now near the pool. It blocks out the worst of the smell, though the sight is disturbing enough, he likely would have been fine had Maven not just voided her own stomach. He holds onto his own lunch--meager as it was--but his features take on a distinctly green cast.
He glances over his shoulder as Logem returns, frowning at the man's display of pique. "Something yes... " he confirms, glancing down at the body, and then slowly up the beach. His eyes go wide as he spots the tent pitched there.
What was going on? This didn't make any sense... Surely Halsiig had died on the ship, to be in this state of decay and in the tidepool... but then who had erected the tent? If it had been Halsiig then why had he not joined the rest of the survivors. He doesn't bother to elaborate for Logem's benefit, leaving the man to see the body for himself as Quint quickly circles the pools and begins to follow the drag marks up towards the tent, scrabbling up the slope without his usual concern for maintaining his image, grabbing hold of clumps of grass and roots as necessary to haul himself to the top.
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Following the group and their noses, Dr. Logem comes upon the body as well. "Hmm.. I do believe I recognize that man. Halsiig.. Halsiig Halfhammer I believe? It seems as if he had an unfortunate accident. Pity, considering he was a man of wealth. Being my area of expertise, I will examine the body. It will take a few minutes; If you would, I'd recommend checking the tent up there as I work, unless you wish to see how a real healer goes about his job, rather than let his god do it for them." That last phrase might've been aimed towards Maven, hinting at Dr. Logem's dislike of magical healing.
Pulling out one of his surgical scalpels, the same one used in felling the crab, Dr. Logem goes to work, performing a quick autopsy of what is left of Halsiig's body.
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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Amidst scuttling crabs and ankle-deep seawater Doctor Logem begins a grisly task of looking over Halsiig's dismantled body. What is immediately evident to the doctor is the lack of bloat in the flesh and pulpification of the skin. It's clear to Logem that Halsiig had not died of drowning and -- despite having been knocked overboard -- must have survived long enough to reach shore. Halsiig's injuries are consistent with the claws of the giant rock crab that now lays dead further down the beach.
Halsiig's clothing is shredded by the giant crab, though much of his fineries seem to still be intact. Golden rings on each finger inlaid with precious stones, valuables that hold surprisingly little value here in a land with no discernable economy. For all his material wealth, Halsiig came to one of the few places in the world where his wealth was of no consequence.
Ultimately, Logem's assessment requires little internal examination fo Halsiig's body. Judging from the condition of decay he's only been dead for a day.
Meanwhile, Quint's ascent up the sandy hill towards the small camp is an arduous one. While the slope makes ascent possible, the climb up is fraught with crumbling handholds and clumps of reeds that tear out of the ground when pulled on. A few close calls later, Quint has made his way up to where Halsiig had set up a makeshift camp. Signs of a struggle are evident, with puncture-marks in the ground indicative of giant crab legs scuttling about. Blood stains the ground near a small pit dug where blackened driftwood is all that remains of a tiny fire.
The tent is a single, large piece of burlap draped over two sticks driven into the ground creating a makeshift lean-to. No bedding of any real kind of present, just the grassy ground. A sealed crate rests near the tent, scratch marks on one nailed-shut side indicate Halsiig had attempted to get into it but lacked a prybar to open it with successfully.
Then, something catches Quint's eye; a book.
Spattered with blood, a leatherbound journal lays face down in the tall grass, abandoned. Picking it up, Quint finds pages and pages of smudged, hand-written journal entries in Dwarven. Most of them are illegible, at least without time spent to decipher the damaged writing. Some words and dates pop out enough that Quint can assess the journal details the expedition, but much of the writing came long before the expedition set out, back even before the funeral that started everything.
Curiously, the first page of the journal has a sketch instead of writing. It depicts a broad-headed warhammer engraved with dwarven runes of some ancient, archaic dialect of their tongue. Below the hammer, a single line of text is written in large dwarven script and Quint can clearly tell what it says.
The Lost Hammer of the Dwarvish Lords
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Quint's efforts are accompanied by curses and oaths one might be surprised to hear coming from his mouth. He perseveres despite the difficulty, sure that whatever he might find at the top will be worth the effort; sure there must be some clue to how such a powerful dwarf suffered such a fate...
In part he is correct. It is sobering, and sad to see the struggle, the desperation of Halsiig scratching at the crate with his bare hands; the bloody end... but there was something in the blood, a large object. Dirt stained hands trembling Quint carefully lifts the book and opens it. His eyes go wide as he reads the runes beneath the opening sketch, and he eagerly flicks through the pages hoping to find more. The damage from the salt water was extensive however, pages swollen, text smudged and obscured... He stops when he reaches the final pages, text clearly written after the attack, but no better for it... He sighs, carefully closing the diary and clasping it to his chest as he looks around. They would have to have someone collect the crate and the tent, along with Halsiig's body. This could be a blow for the expedition or--he glances down at the journal--perhaps a boon.
He skids and slides his way back down the hill, sheltering the book against his chest, ignoring the further dishevelment and fresh scrapes it causes as he returns to the others. "There are some supplies up there, though they did not help Halsiig." he sounds weary, but more of emotion than body. "I suspect the crab caught him by surprise, still trying to recover from the fight. It seems particularly cruel that he perished so, but... if nothing else he left us this; his journal. It is badly damaged, but I may be able to decipher some passages that may tell us more about this land, and his plans for us here. Needless to say such information could be invaluable..." he trails off, looking at the journal, held out in front of him.
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Noticing that the rest of the group has gone up to the tent and seemed to have found something of interest, Dr. Logem, as he performs his unnecessary autopsy, quickly and deftly takes off Halsiig's rings and secrets them away in one of his many pockets. Quickly, with his scalpel, he also takes one of Halsiig's remaining fingers, and pockets it as well, though in a different pocket than the rings. Let us see if the good Halsiig Halfhammer cannot be of use to us later on, eh? Just a piece that was with him at his time of death is all that is needed, if memory serves.. although finding the required reagents and the person to do it will take time. He won't be going anywhere, anyways.
Cleaning his scalpel of dwarf-meat with the aid of Sumetusen, Dr. Logem sheathes the blade and, satisfied of his work, heads to where the others are. "An autopsy was largely unnecessary after all; His cause of death was obvious, though confirmation was still needed. He has only been dead a day; As is obvious by the tent, he survived to shore, though was eaten afterwards by the very same crab I recently slew." The fact that he said 'he' slew it is likely not lost on the others. "There was nothing of interest on the body. We should see him a proper burial before dinner, though. A man of his station deserves as much." Pausing to examine the campsite, he adds after a moment of glancing around, "Was there anything of interest here?"
Maven collects herself as the doctor investigates the corpse, stepping backwards with purposeful, measured steps from the rocks and the body. As the distance grows between her and Halsiig's remains, she visibly relaxes as her breathing normalizes. Got to get over the smell...ah can't always be retchin' every time someone dies...Torag, why'd ye have to curse me with such a weak stomach?
She considers following Quint up the slope, but as her eyes follow it upward, she catches herself almost looking skyward, and jerks her head back down to earth. Ohhh no ye don't; not again. Not gonna soil the sand twice in a row, now.
Lifting Drowbreaker over her shoulder, Maven looks back toward the camp, eager to get away from the smell of rotting kinsman. "Let's get back and have a crew haul the meat in, aye? don't think we're gettin' any more comfortable sittin' round our cousin's upper half...Torag knows I'm not."
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RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4
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Mineko stood in silence over the remains of Halsiig after Logem completed his autopsy. Her leonine guardian just a few feet away watched the good doctor with momentary concern, but quickly turned his attention back to the princess-in-exile. "He should be honored," Koimanu-kun rumbles, padding over to where she stands in the tide pools. Mineko is silent, head bowed and only acknowledges the eidolon's approach with a subtle nod of her head.
After a few moments, she turns to look at her friend and protector, weariness present in her expression. So much death does not need to be spoken for Koimanu-kun to understand it, to empathize with Mineko so effortlessly. What she says is in stark contrast, her focus not on the corpse, but rather Quint and his discovery.
"Good work, Quint." He can see the tiredness in Mineko's eyes. "We should bring everything back to camp with us. The supplies will have to wait until we can send the scouts back. Perhaps they can take some of the..." she motions to the tidepools, "smaller crabs as well for food."
Looking to Maven, Mineko dips her head into a shallow nod, then looks back to the book Quint clutches to his chest. There is a confusing mixture of emotions in her eyes as she regards the cover, then little more than silence as she turns towards the slope. "We will use the canvas from the tent to wrap his body and transport it..."
It was the least she could do.
"I will have my assistants handle it. I have a stretcher that will work for transporting the body." Dr. Logem glances over at the Empress, annoyed at her continued presence, before looking over at Maven. "Maven, if you would handle the rest, being our expert on religious matters, that would be appreciated. I will be present for the ceremony, but I have other things that need attending to in the mean time. Now, unless there ends up being anything else, I would like to depart." Giving a curt nod to the rest of the group, he turns and walks away, attempting at least to leave on a less rude manner than before, though no less eager to get back to his own duties - not to mention examine his new findings.
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Rogath speaks a few more questions into the darkness and damp of the well bottom: "When did this happen - what year? And were there other settlers in the area, or were you alone? "
Then, when he's done with them, or when they fall silent once more: "We will ensure you do not lay in this well any longer, this I promise you."
Turning his head up towards the sky he calls out, "Anyone still up there? Hello?"
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"Aye, I'm up here!" Angrin calls down worriedly, shaking himself free of the reverie into which he had been cast. "Are ye well, Rogath?" He tugs on the rope helplessly, causing it to jerk the priest up for a moment, before letting him fall down to the previous level once again. He looks around, noticing the other two and giving them a nod. "An' it looks like the rest o' us're up here, too. What're ye doin' down there?" The trapsmith frowns, worried about his companion.
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