Tark's Skull and Shackles: Besmara's Harpies (Inactive)

Game Master Tark the Ork

Fort1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
Fort1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17

Fort: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Fort: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

You'd be at -4 now Lorn

I believe I am at 0 with your 2hp heal. Just haven't corrected the vitals line. Tomorrow. tired. midnight here.

Cool so you're staggered, and Sylvestria is back on her feet.

Plenty of time to lie down later, red, and with better company!

Siera nonchalantly picks Sylvestra up to her right shoulder and hoisters Lorn under her left arm.

Fortitude saves: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 91d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Siera's Strength of 18 lets her carry under 100 lbs as a light load and up to 200 as a medium load.

Head pounding. Hangover? No. Explain why my skin itching and painful creepy crawlie sensation. Can't. Why am I bouncing? Open your eyes. View of Siera's front side, up close and personal. Awareness of passing through brush and whole lotta pain. CLOSE! Close your eyes! Bad dream! No more rum, I promise!
*moan* I miss my Cheliax sailloft. I need a drink.

Lorn is squinting as hard as she can. Facial creases where her eyes should be. A brief tensioning of her body tells Siera she is awake, clearly in pain but not struggling.

Fort: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Fort: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

Nearly everyone gets to understand what it feels like to be an ox in a rice field before you manage to make it to a deep river and dive to a nice deep part of it before the swarm eventually wanders off in search of more blood and hosts.

All of you emerge from the rivers bank muddy, tired, and bloody from a number of scratches some inflicted on the run.

"Bugs. I hate them." She coughs up and starts to scratch. "Hate them. Lets get the water an' get outa here."

"Wait a minute, those things are a lot more dangerous than just the painful bites. Quick, I need to check everyone for infestation. They lay eggs in you and the larvae can kill you while inside."

At the idea of eggs and larvae Mugwort's eyes grow big, then narrow as he begins licking his lips. Juicy juicy worms...

poke poke prod prod

HEAL OR PERCEPTION TO CONFIRM SIGNS OF INFESTATION?

"They flys may have been carrying Ghoul Fever as well. We need to check everyone."

I can't seem to find a rule on checking if people are infected. I'll roll two heal checks for everyone to represent checking.

HEal for one. Both can apply to another.

"Those bites may be infested with larvae, that need to be dug out now. Everybody strip down, I need to check you!" Rhialla says seriously.

The Halfling resists no one. She has minor bouts of consciousness with even less coherency. She is at 0hp, covered in bug bites, mud, scratches. Stripping her down, you get an idea of what a Halfling childhood and a fair bit of adulthood under Chellaxian ownership means. Throw in the unusual scarring caused by a lightning strike on top of all that and you have a roadmap no one would travel willingly.

Going on Sylvestra's rolls.

Lorn is in bad shape. Not only is she infested with maggot eggs but the wounds around the bites are already starting to rot and turn red, a sure sign she's been infected with ghoul fever.

Siera and Sylvestra also picked up grubs and already start to feel itchy as the maggots dig deeper into flesh.

With a look of intense focus, Rhialla channels the power of her goddess, providing some healing to their wounds before drawing her dagger and ripping parts of her own clothing to make bandages.

She proceeds to cut the Larvae out of Lorn's body trying to minimize the damage as she removes the infestation and bandages the wounds. Turning her attention to Siera she begins the process anew, taking what she learned of the larvae working on Lorn to apply to her technique with Siera.

By the time she is finished, she finds herself exhausted, the physical strain on her affecting the quality of her work, her hands shaking with tiredness she finds herself unable to remove the infestation from Sylvestria.

Channel Positive Energy 4/51d6 ⇒ 3

Heal check Lorn
1d20 ⇒ 15
Damage1d8 ⇒ 3

Heal Check Siera
1d20 ⇒ 18
Damage1d8 ⇒ 4

Heal Check Sylvestra
1d20 ⇒ 1
Damage1d8 ⇒ 7

channel Positive Energy 5/51d6 ⇒ 2

Channeling for the last time she feels capable, she rests for a bit before trying again, to no avail.

Heal Check 2 Sylvestra
1d20 ⇒ 3
Damage1d8 ⇒ 6

Lorn healed of infestation total HP gain 2 still infected with Ghoul fever, Siera healed of infection total HP gain 1, Sylvestria still infested total HP loss 8

Mugwort watches as Sylvestra works her magic, his eyes wide and watching. He cradles his blunderbuss, keeping it loaded and ready in case anything else comes calling.

When Lorn strips, Mugwort nods in appreciation of her scars and wounds suffered. "You am tough, like goblin!"

Cracking open an eyelid, she croaks out "It ain't toughness. Its a determination to settle couple of scores." With that said, it serves as impetus to roll over and slowly, painfully gather her clothes. "Buxom. My thanks for the knife gouging. I don't feel any active creepy-crawlies." The naked Halfling stumbles to "clean" muddy bank to begin a painful mud scrub to purge her skin and clothes of blood, sweat and grime. The occasional overly vicious slap of a just landed flying insect while bathing lets you know she is alive.

"She's got the right idea, we need to get you all as rinsed off as possible and get moving. We need a clean watersource so everyone can bathe properly and rest while I take care of the wounds and Sylvestra's infection still needs work, but I need her to heal before she's strong enough for me to try again." Rhialla says taking charge of her wounded friends.

The goblin nods. "Me am good at water-sniffing." Survival to find clean water: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Did we forget the barrel in our escape?

"Lets get that barrel filled but not yet hand it over to Plugg. I wonder if that undead beastie was a shipwreck survivor or intentionally stranded here? Can't help but think, Plugg would love to take advantage of our current status."

A fully dressed, damp and physically worn out Lorn straightens out her almost 3' frame. "First: water. Despite those bugs, I'd like to find out more about the former inhabitants. We may have to if the Wormwood is already gone."

Reviewing the healing and surgery, I'm be sitting at -7hp right now, just an FYI. I do still have one cure spell I can cast if brought back up.

Seeing how severely affected Sylvestria is Rhialla converts the energy from her last spell into healing hoping to keep her friend alive enough for another attempt at removing the infestation.

Burn Disguise self or CLW1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

So sylvestra is still unconscious and Lorn is currently turning into a ghoul. Intent was to get the water barrel back, fill it up and bugger off to the ship?

Or rest long enough to get Sylvestria ti the point where my next attempt won't kill her.

Lorn might look a little pale but that is, um, due to lack of sun. Yeah, that's the ticket, lack of sun... When is dinner?

"Get the barrel, return to ship. Already tired of this too sunny island paradise." ;)

Lorn will head out to collect the barrel to fill it up, and start rolling it to the ship. She motions for Sierra and Mugwort to follow, mumbles some platitudes to Rhialla and Sylvestra.

@Lorn: No you failed I just forgot to aply the damage and not going to at this point.

Stumbling through the swamp again you find your hidden barrel.

However on the shore you hear activity and the sound of voices.

Freebie! I'll provide a goat at the next available altar in thanks. Maybe a chicken. Sea cucumber?

Not feeling the paradise island love, in a foul mood, dirty and tired, her paranoia or perhaps raging pessimism cautions her to whisper to her cohorts, "Lets guard the barrel while Mugwort listens to some unguarded talk. These are Plugg and his cronies afterall. I don't trust him. Shanhai'd me, ...us, into this crew, set me up for murder in the bilges, time in the box for self-defense."

Mugwort nods, draws his axe and creeps closer to listen. Stealth: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (10) + 4 - 2 = 12

Mugwort stalks through the bushes and sees a beach of clear white sands and welcomign water. On the beach appears to be a fish net tied between two of the effigies you saw in the tide water and on either side of it are a pair of grindylow females cavorting about and smacking what appears to be a human head from one side of the net to the other. One of them appears to be wearing Sandara Quinns tricorne hat indicating that she may be nearby. Alive, she was a more powerful cleric than Rhialla. Dead, she'd be a good meal.

Mugwort slowly slips back into the bushes and heads back to the others. "Two fish-women is playing with head on beach. One of them is wearing Sandara's hat."

Lorn takes in the Mugwort's observations. Looking over their bedraggled group, not at their finest moment, but the chips are not in their favor. ..."When are they ever lately?" escapes from her inner monologue. "No ship? Was it a head from one of the effigies or a bit more recent? Was it Sandra's? Her lower lip trembles a bit and voice wavers with this last few words, of course this could be because of the cold breeze. Who gets cold on a hot tropical island like this?

An inner resolve visibly steels her backbone, "I have a confession of sorts. I can scream silently but only the person who hears it is hurt, sometimes stunned. I might be able to keep one of them out of the fight long enough to kill the other fish-creature. It is how I was able to survive those two sailors knifing me in the bilges, much thanks to Mugwort's killing the other before he got to me."

*poke*

"Two fish-women is playing with head on beach. One of them is wearing Sandara's hat."

Fish-women? Like those bloody s!&@stains that attacked the ship?

An inner resolve visibly steels her backbone, "I have a confession of sorts. I can scream silently but only the person who hears it is hurt, sometimes stunned. I might be able to keep one of them out of the fight long enough to kill the other fish-creature. It is how I was able to survive those two sailors knifing me in the bilges, much thanks to Mugwort's killing the other before he got to me."

Then do it, halfpint. I've been hurtin' to get back on those piss-pot leftovers.

Face red from hate and pent-up anger, Siera moves to the beach with determination in her steps and murder in her eyes.