Silence stretches across the darkness for a long many seconds before the voice resumes talking. It is male, somewhat ragged and high pitched; the sound of one of advanced age.
"Conversations are... so enjoyable. Very well, some questions will be answered, if Yd's questions are answered. You talk to Yd. Yd is a scholar. Why does Yd do things with the dead? Yd needs others, just as you do. But Yd's family is not so talkative, yes?"
"Why do you kill my Nargun and invade my home, old man of the Three Peoples?"
I suspect I am not much more than a babe compared to you, Yd Oios responds But we are here as we are escorting a caravan south and your tower is in our path. We were worried that we would be attacked when we passed so we came in to investigate. Until now all we have found are your... family... who seem unable to communicate. Your Nargun guardians also seem distressed.
Istiel can barely contain herself. Why are we speaking to this unholy creature?! Oios said Damballah wills all undead destroyed!
The monk is near trembling with rage and excitement, her discipline a paper-thin dam holding back a flood of primal expression. Her glory was so close...
Nat coughs, quietly, as she moves forward. She hasn't slept well, and waking up without seeing the light of day - much less the dawn - was ... rather like not waking up, in all honesty. The sooner we are out of here, the better.
"You know much of us, then, if you know we are Three Peoples. We do fairly boy others and we loyke to be treated the same. But whoy ask questions you already know the answer to? Those Nargun did not stroyke us of their own free will - they were commanded to. Was it boy you?"
A quiet cough, an imitation of Nat's filters back through the darkness.
"I've met the Three Peoples before. How else would I learn your tongue? Occasionally, an adventurous fisherman, or more often, one of your, how do you call them, engine-ears? The scarred ones, though, I have not met before. There is only one left, then? I'd like him back. I look forward to learning what makes him... motivated."
"My Nargun are compelled to protect my demesne. You trespassed. You were attacked. That you are here anyways makes you very... interesting."
Oios grits his teeth. It may be then that this is a misunderstanding. Would you promise our caravan safe passage as we pass by your demense? If so then we will leave you in peace.
Nat listens. She's good at that. "That we are here 'anyways' makes us strong, Oy think you mean. Strong enough to pass your defences, strong enough to resist you, if'n we've a moynd to."
It's not exactly a threat; but it's not not a threat, either. It is - above all - a statement of truth.
"But loyke Oy said, we troy to do fairly boy others. What can you offer us, and what can we offer you?"
Trade might be a good place to start.
Imix steps forward and speaks through disfigured mouth, toothed lips mangling his words "I also ang a scholar. I agree to answer your questions, if you answer ours. Neither of us o'fuscates. No more than an hour. Agreed?" he looks to the others as much as into the darkness, a trickle of drool running down between his teeth from the effort.
The voice comes warm, with just a hint of agitation underneath it. "Yd and you can discuss safe passage, Old Man, though Yd is not in the habit of giving things away for free. And there is the need to discuss recompense for the Nargun, of course."
"And yes, dark one," the voice addresses Nat, "You are strong, strong enough to run for cover, at least. That is something, Yd will grant you. The last like you, did not make it past my guardians. Yd would have liked to talk with them. Those with your skin, are Tooyah, yes? Yd has heard of your kind, of course, but they were the first Yd had almost had the pleasure of meeting."
A tone of delight dances upon the voice's words. "Yes, Suriname! Yd shall be happy to trade with you. Questions for questions. One hour. Then, Yd and you can discuss recompense and safe passage."
a hunch on what to do, that sort of thing
RUN!!!!
Just kidding.
As you listen to the voice, it becomes apparent that there is something just a little wrong about it. As if its speaker is trying on emotion, as if a costume. But everything is stilted, not quite right. It speaks, and reasons, but you get the sense it is more akin to a coywolf playing with its food, than like you and your companions.
Istiel turns to look at the rest of her companions; her face unreadable as ever. The flickering orange light of her torch plays along the red streaks of her mask, creating dancing flows of white. "We are far from Ayida-wedu's light. Deep below the Father of Waters. Yet still they see. In the end they will judge the deals you sign with this unholy creature." Her voice carries edges of surprise, anger, but most of all disappointment in their actions.
The monk turns back towards the ogres, sitting on the ground cross-legged. She places the torch to her side and stares straight ahead, unwilling to engage in negotiations.
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The essentials of fishing are calm and stillness; Nat has been through a lot in the last few weeks, but even the little sleep she's had is enough to restore the ground of her being.
Istiel's words don't cause so much as a ripple in the countenance of her calm as she patiently observes in reply: "Loyfe is a series of Midwoyfe's choices. Here, Oy choose bargaining with someone Oy'd prefer not to, in hope of saving loyves; and Oy'll gladly stand before Ayida-Wedu and say that Oy troyed peace over conflict, every day of the week and twoyce on Sundays."
Nevertheless, she gives Oios and Imix a meaningful look: she is disquieted by this stranger for reasons she can't entirely identify. It may yet come to a fight.
To Yd, she replies: "The Nargun are not yours; they belong to themselves. You ask for recompense - whoy should we not troy and free them instead?"
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Istiel's accusation hurts, but time is already passing. Imix leads with the question that burns hottest in his mind.
"Firtht quethion: Tell uth what you know of the Thirst Thlame. 'Riefly." Imix's mangled lips sneer as he tries to say the name of his enemy. Flecks of spittle fly from his mouth - but he stays in his divine form.
Istiel closes her eyes, intent on meditating instead of listening to the exchange with the unholy being. "You choose to deliver a demon unto us all, midwife priestess." Is all she says in response, consciousness drifting off into nothingness as she reflects on why any priest or priestess of Damballah would choose to deal with an intelligent undead.
Silent in twisted awe of the unnatural ogres in their pale green glow, Drazan is content to let the others ply their trade and diplomacy until the topic of reconciliage returns. Standing between the ogres and the party Drazan speaks as though only the party were present. This is contested land. The only ones that can demand a price be paid for passage are those that are willing and able to enforce it and only on those that are unable to protest. We already know the Nargun's weakness, and walk freely unhindered through these halls. We are the ones that need to be paid. They sue for peace now only because they fear true death.I do not want the flight to make a deal with these death-born unless it favors their lives and future.
"We do not negotiate for 'assage, 'ut for knowledge." Imix growls. "We 'av an 'our ahore that deal is made."
The voice chuckles, long and low and ultimately, mirthless. "The Nargun are tools, nothing more. Tools that you have broken, Tooyah."
The laughing stops and then starts again as Drazan speaks, changing into a growl as the Man From Fire Peaks finishes his thought. "You mistake interest for fear. But then, I can see you are the hammer in the Suriname's toolbox. Perhaps I will break you?"
Switching seemlessly to Imix, Yd continues...
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The Eldeleth came, six of them, in the dark of night. We of course, mistrusted them; many of their people had turned over the generations to necromancy, in an effort to save their civilization from a collapsing birth rate. These Elds were practitioners of that dark art, they wore skull tattoos around their faces, carried bone wands; gristle and hair fetishes. The Eldeleth lands themselves were whispered to be cursed, unlike our demesnes, which yielded up bounties untold, both above and below the earth. This settlement, Kyrahm Mynon, was on the border of our civilized empire, the long roads stretching south and east from here. The resources of what you call the Baunti Valley, was taken here by our frontiersmen, and distributed to other reaches of our empire. But I digress…
We were bound by treaty to take the Eldeleth in. They were sequestered here, in the upper city of Kyrahm Mynon, within the guard garrison and the small town that serviced it. The Eldeleth wished to view our library, particularly the reports regarding the Valley; it was clear that they were fleeing something, and wished to be informed before heading further north. Yd was a diviner in the service of our Spymaster - we needed to know what it was that they knew, but with little trust between our people, and the Eldeleth being a particularly secretive peoples... It was easy to delay them while we did our work, dribbling a report here and a report there to them, faulting bureaucracy and bad records keeping for the delays. All the while, we did our work.
There was a sickness spreading among the Eldeleth. One born of religious fervor, it burned intensely and fiercely, and utilized a doctrine of purification of the low classes. The Eldeleth spoke furtively of a Year Zero, which had yet to have happened. But when it did, the deserving would ascend into the corpus of the Flame, becoming part of it, while the mass purification would happen to the rest. They would be used as fuel for the ascension, as it were. The Elds didn’t speak much of the Flame itself; our spies and divinations could wrestle little of the actual doctrine. Our guests seemed afraid to utter even minor details regarding the theology of the Flame, as if language itself could spread the contagion. We gathered the Flame burned brightest in Eldeleth Keherim, to the south.
We delayed them, a fortnight. It seemed our first assumptions were wrong. The Eldeleth were not refugees - they were an advance party, heading north to find a suitable place for resettlement for the uninfected. The Elds grew restless, suspicious of the delays and mistakes, and intended to leave after their next rest. That chance never came.
The entirety the Eldeleth lands - and more - sunk in an instant. The cataclysm went as far as our doorstep here, rivening the land and dropping the majority of Kyrahm Mynon thousands of feet, burying the city and leaving only the upper levels - and those few hundred of us here, alive. Our roads, stretching under Eldeleth lands, were sundered, many of our settlements - obliterated, the surface lands sunken and spoiled, cursed. Our Dendarim stayed in the Baunti, and pursued their ancient vows, their numbers dwindling over time. It has been centuries, I suspect, since I saw one. The Eastern Darhom retreated underground. Rumors of civil war to the south, the southern Darhom descending into demon worship and debasement most foul. The Flame was, for all intents and purposes, the end of my peoples.
A long pause envelopes you, the air within this large cavern chilled and moist. Yd speaks again. "I have answered your question. Tell me, what interest do you have in the Flame?"
I am no hammer of a suriname. Drazan growls back, before turning to address Imix and Oios. The Nargun are no more than slaves to this death born. This matter is already settled for me. Have your words, but do not make promises unless you've thought about where I stand.
"I am with Drazen." Istiel affirms, though her reasons are entirely different from his own.
The monk cannot concentrate on her meditation throughout Yd's story, as much as she pretends not to listen. Truly, she could block him out, but curiousity draws her into the blasphemous creature story.
We fight... an idea? Is it a plague of the mind? Or are gods involved? The Crone suggested there were.
Imix pauses, processing the information. "The Thirst Thlame has resurthaced. My 'eo'le have thallen. A thragment survive, by the will of the gods, and thlee the 'aunti. We thought them, and lotht. I look thor how to thtop it following."
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"Is it still like that?"
Yd huffs. "It seems to be, from my perch." He doesn't follow up with what - or where - this perch is.
"Does he know of anything beyond the Southlands? There is talk of another great lake. "
Laughter, peels of laughter, genuine and mocking. "A lake? Yes, in a manner of speaking. You rubes have no word for ocean then? Past the Eld lands there was a rugged coast that sat next to an ocean. An ocean is a body of water, salty, and much, much bigger than a lake. Yd never saw it, but it could be still be there."
"If we had people who spent time with the Flame, could they become infected? Is there anyway to check for infection? Would they know? "
"The Elds seemed to think so. Yd has never seen this Flame, nor any infected. Take that as it may be."
"What are these "demons" you are talking about? "
"Demons! Horrific creatures from beyond the veil! Agents of destruction and chaos!"
"How and why did you become undead?"
Sadness creeps into Yd's voice. "We took the Eldeleth ritual book off their corpses. Our numbers dwindled. When faced with bad choices, one always chooses awareness over extinction."
"Is he intending to stay here when the Flame comes through?"
You can practically hear the derisive sneer on Yd's face. "The Flame has never touched my people. We will hide, and then, when yours wipe themselves out, we will begin our next era."
"What happened to our Eldeleth counterparts? Does he think the riving stopped here because he stopped them going further north?"
"We killed them. Later... much later, they became the first testing grounds in the creation of my new family."
A silence settles over the cavern, Yd apparently lost in thought. Eventually, his voice comes again, pensive.
"Humor me these questions:"
"Scarred one : How does it feel to know that all of your friends are gone?"
"Dark one: You speak of midwife's choices. A lovely analogy, by the way. Why would your goddess do that to you? Why does a goddess that puts you in such quandaries deserve your adulation?"
"Hammer: You do not hammer for the Suriname? What do you hammer for? Have you forgotten that you are just a hammer?"
"Old Man: What do you believe happens when your people go beyond the veil?"
"Silent One: What does your mask mean to you? How does it shape your perception of the world, to never be able to change your face?"
"Suriname: Did they tell you that you were alone? One of a kind? Unique?"
Yd sighs, a tiredness creeping into his voice. "And please, tell me your names, so that I may record them for our histories."
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Nat answers the question the only way she knows how: with absolute honesty. "Oy'm a good midwoyfe: most of the toyme, things go well. But sometoymes, they don't: sometoymes you lose one, sometoymes Oy lose both. And sometoymes, very very occasionally, Oy can act to save one - but knowing that if'n Oy do, Oy'll lose the other. And when you're up to your elbows in blood, having troyed everything you know, when the moment comes to choose, there's never toyme - not to think, not to foynd someone else to make the choice, not to catch a breath; Oy just have to do. And Oy never get told if'n Oy chose well or ill, if'n Oy should have left alone or done summat else besoydes: Oy just have to do, and choose, and get up the next day, and the next, from can to can't..."
She trails off to catch her breath, unused to talking this much.
"Because loyfe isn't neat. It isn't toydy. Sometoymes, if you're very lucky, you're given a clear choice between good and ill." She thinks briefly of Ashkesh, and the moral - if not emotional - clarity in rejecting him and all he stands for. "But most of the toyme, all you're faced with is a series of bad choices, or between bad an' worse... And you're asking the wrong question. It's not 'whoy' - it's never 'whoy.' It's 'what.' What am Oy going to do, in this moment, with the toyme that has been given to me? That's the only question that matters. And Oy've only found one answer to that question."
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"My name is Thuriname Imix." Imix nods to Yd "'leased to meet you."
"They told me that I wath the latht one of my breed. One of the Throzen who serve the Thirst Thlame told me there was another. I know now they lied. I do not know how 'uch they lied. I thuppose I never will." Emotions are hard to read on a crocodilian mouth, but Imix seems downcast.
"You should know that those who therve the thirst thlame know of the the latht time. They believe they can do a "thlow 'burn", and latht for thouthandth of yearth."
True to name, Istiel remains silent. She sits cross-legged, one arm laid on her right thigh palm up while the other rigidity holds a slowly dying torch.
The monk cannot help but to reflect, however; A ridiculous question. Others do not change their face. I was given this face as others are. There is no other perception. Perhaps if Yd knew there was another way to immortality he would not have chose this blasphemy.
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Yd snorts, his voice full of contempt. "A slow burn? Humans aren't capable of a slow burn. The Elds couldn't do it, humans certainly won't be able to. They'll go out in some blaze, sooner rather than later."
"At any rate, Suriname Imix, it has been a pleasure. Yd is afraid you'll have to leave the rest for the histories."
Istiel's torch flickers and dims, darkness enveloping you. Yd's voice, speaking in a strange tongue, echoes harshly across the cavern's walls.
Questions? Ask away!
Ydsp: 10/10 Yddp: 9/10
lingering: 2/2
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Round 1
Istiel's eyes snap open as Yd begins chanting, her blood running cold as the unsettling magic swirls around them. She jumps to her feet just in time for her robe to be snagged by a piece of solid shadow, jerking her movement to a halt.
Istiel snaps her hand down and knocks the shadow away, shivering as the cold non-light touches her hand.
Quickly the monk reaches for one of the gourds on her belt, ripping it free from the thin cord that bound it. She bites the cork and spits it out; the stopper is greedily caught by a nearby shadow. With a frustrated yell as shadows pull on her arms the warrior rams the neck of the gourd into the open mouth of her mask with a crunch. Istiel twists the deformed neck into place, throwing her head back and draining the stuck gourd of its magical liquid while her free hand defends her body from groping shadows.
The magic is all at once immediate and overwhelming. Suddenly, the force that holds her to the floor is gone. The downward push on her shoulders that she never knew existed had been lifted from her entire body. The lightness! The freedom!
On any other occasion it would be a joy to test the limits of this power and apply it to her forms. But instead, the monk only had one goal:
She was coming for Yd.
Istiel jumps. But instead of falling down again she just... keeps going. The others see her torchlight flicker and sputter as it hurtles through the darkness, up and away towards the northeast.
Round 1
Nat sighs briefly as the cloying darkness tugs at her, snaring her feet. "Alroyt, we'll do this your way." The tone is resigned but it isn't clear whether she's talking to Yd or to Istiel. Possibly both. Economy with words and all that.
Istiel was right about one thing: even here under ground, far from the sun, Ayida-Wedu is with them. Nat lifts her left hand up; the tattooed holy symbol on it starts to glow, like an ember at first, and then more brightly, and brighter still until it is at least the equal of Istiel's torch.
If a Light sphere effect is created inside a darkness effect, the creator of the Light sphere effect must pass a magic skill check against the creator of the darkness effect. If the check succeeds, the Light sphere effect functions normally. Otherwise, it functions as any other light source, as described above.
So, you'll need to make a magic skill check (with your total hd instead of your caster level, since it is a supernatural ability) or the light effect will be dim light in 10' radius, and no light effect beyond that.
After death, Legba takes us to be judged by Damballah, all else is a mystery to mortals Oios says
Swift: Activate Agile Feet
Act One: Intimidate
Act Two and Three: Spend spell point to cast Armored Aegis on Drazan
Drazan gets a +3 armor bonus does not stack with other armor bonuses, but does apply against attacks made by incorporeal creatures for 3 hours. I believe concentration checks are just caster level?
Oios shouts in fury at Yd's betrayal You ask what will happen on the other side of the veil? We will send you there so you may see for yourself!
So saying Oios tries to reach out to Drazan to give him extra protection. We are called to be the instruments of justice in this dark place. We WILL prevail.
Oios points his (hopefully visibly glowing staff) in the direction he heard Yd. The Foul undead is there!
But, I'll need a Magic Skill Check (see discussion).
Your concentration check: see discussion.
MSB check for artifact glow
lingering: 1/2
Ogres 1&2: charge, -2 AC
Istiel's torch - and Istiel - lift off the ground and streak up and away, casting her shadow across the flagstones as the monk flies. A hulking form runs through the dim light below her, stopping just short of the tendrils of shadow grasping at you. Roaring, the ogre swings his greataxe at Drazan, dealing the Man From Fire Peaks two grevious wounds.
Another ogre charges Imix, but the creature is blinded and thrown off balance by Oios' staff, which flares to light right as the ogre swings. Despite the staff's feeble light, the surprise is enough; the ogre's axe misses the Suriname by inches.
Light springs from Imix's shield and Nat's aura, while Oios gifts Drazan with Damballah's protection...
I wrote Nat and Oios' actions into the narrative, but feel free to retcon if you'd like, given circumstances on the ground.
Drazan, 38 damage, but if Nat and Imix fail their Magic Skill Checks, you'll benifit from concealment, and you'll only take 19 points of damage.
PCs are up! Bolt goes on a 1 (and has no weapon).
The character is ensnared. Being entangled impedes movement, but does not entirely prevent it unless the bonds are anchored to an immobile object or tethered by an opposing force. An entangled creature moves at half speed, cannot run or charge, and takes a –2 penalty on all attack rolls and a –4 penalty to Dexterity. An entangled character who attempts to cast a spell must make a concentration check (DC 15 + spell level) or lose the spell.
Imix raises his shield, and the eyes snap open. Yellow sunlight floods the room - light that burns at the undead monsters that surround him. "I need thupport!" yells Imix through monstrous lips "Ithtiel; thtop running and thight!"
Seeing the light shining strongly from Imix's shield, Nat swiftly ch
Seeing the light shining strongly from Imix's shield, Nat swiftly changes her plan: lifting up her palm, the tattooed holy symbol glows brightly for an instant before fading to a glimmering dweomer, which spreads out and settles on the party's weapons.
Spending 1 spell point to get caster level 5.
Using my War totem: all allies get +3 to damage. No spell points used.
Using move action to maintain the spell by concentration.
Using 1 spell point to let Istiel re-roll failed saving throw
2 spell points used, 14 remaining
"Then, there's the deathshead, a deep purple mushroom that grows underground. It has powerful preservative properties, and is used by our neighbors to the north for embalming purposes. But, I suspect, with the right mixture of regeants, one could create a state among the living not unlike that of the living dead, with many of the same benefits and drawbacks..."
Istiel suddenly stops moving, going limp as her momentum slows. She casually floats to the ground, body crumpling in an inert heap.
lingering: 1/2
Ogres blue and red: charge, -2 AC, 8 dmg
The ogres flinch, reflexively covering their eyes as Imix's channel bombards them. They howl; smoke rises from their flesh, you can see their blood pulsing under their skin, as if flowing away from the energy.
Naturally Drazan stumbles backward spell and tremendous force too much for near any man, and he scrambles to stave off dying from the loss of blood momentarily losing his focus to contain his rage.
gain entangled
Step away 5ft
Drink potion cure moderate
Rage!!!
lingering: 0/2 [Oios, Imix, Nat, Drazan]
Ogres blue and red: charge, -2 AC, 5 dmg
Bolt yells, voice trembling, "Four ogres! There were four! And four of my companions still unseen!" Then, running into the dim light, unimpeded by the grasping darkness, Bolt disappears into the shadows and a few seconds later, appears in Istiel's torchlight, breathing heavily.
The ogre that attacked Drazan steps forward and swings his axe again at the Mountain Man, slicing it down Drazan's torso. The other ogre swings three times, howling in frustration as his attacks are again turned aside, the creature's attacks glancing off of Imix's armor.
Yd barks a quick command in a harsh tongue, different than the language he'd just spoken in, and then falls silent.
====================
Round 2
====================
Istiel floats to the ground, landing softly next to Bolt, the lit torch still gripped tightly in the monk's sleeping hand.
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1 spell point to summon
1 spell point to remain for 3 minutes without using concentration
4 spell points used, 12 remaining
Still in silence, Nat prays again. Maybe it's the silence and stillness of her spellcasting; perhaps it's that Ayida-Wedu's light is stronger than any shadow. Either way, the clinging, snaring dark fails to prevent Nat's prayer from taking effect.
Slowly at first, but with increasing brightness, the great form of the Father of Coywolves coalesces out of the dark.
Takes up a 3x3 square space, so there's a limited number of places on the map he can go. He has 15 ft reach, if it matters.
(Assuming the ogre survives, it's grappled, I'm guessing!)
His bite takes great chunks from the ogres.
lingering: 0/2 [Oios, Imix, Nat, Drazan]
Ogre blue: 24, grappled
Ogre red: 5 dmg
The Father of Coywolves lunges at the ogre that had attacked Drazan, latching onto it and rending it between its jaws. Green blood coats the ground, the ogre screams, and buckling under Chaquapetl's teeth, the ogre squirms, unable to get free.
Stumbling away, Drazan flesh and blood form in favor of one made of earth.
Step away
Cast Transformation Elemental Earth - Fast Healing
RAGE
Elemental Transformation Earth
Fast Healing
Darkvision 60 ft
30 ft burrow speed
Earth Glide
+2 Strength bonus
Resistance to acid