Queshem's head breaks the surface. She breathes in deeply, and the air is musty. The air closes off any access to the fresh air above, and is trapped in this pocket. The scent of rotting seaweed and fish is strong here.
Ahead the tunnel, still smoothly laid with sand, leads downward into pitch darkness, leading back toward the mainland. Queshem detects no further water down that way. Except for this annoying plug, the way appears clear.
Queshem waits for about half a minute to see if anything unexpected pops up before tapping Rabbis on the shoulder and heading back the way they came.
On the other side she says Looks good on the other side. There's a small openin' where the water's coming in from but it ain't a long swim at all to the rest of the tunnel. We also found a chest wedged in a crack that might be interestin'. I'll tie it up with a good sailor's knot and then we can pull it out and up after us.
Right put anythin' valuable in a waterproof bag. Rabbis, Polos, and I will make our way to the other side and we'll hammer a nail in to attach a rope there and do the same here. That should make crossin' easy for even weak swimmers.
Abadar forgive me fer not bein' prepared but he provides us with fortune in that regard anyhow. That chest in the tunnel looked sealed pretty well. We'll bring it back and see if we can't open it up. We'll use it to move our stuff across the plug too.
Queshem examines the chest for traps before she puts a rope on it and also later when it's out of the water.
Queshem dives back under, Rabbis at her side. Using a crowbaw lent to her by Thorrson, the former slave easily frees the chest from the crack. Queshem carefully examines it but detects no traps, just a simple lock and seal.
They heave it out of the water onto the gritty sandy beach. Now able to see it more clearly Queshem can see a word branded onto the top of the chest, burned into the wood.
The word is in a language that neither she or any of them know. This surprises Thasha who apparently has quite the background in linguistics.
'Do we open it?" Rabbis says in his deep slow voice.
If it isn't trapped, then yeah, but be careful. Quehsem goes through a cycle of Detect Magic and Alignments on the chest before she has it opened. Of course if someone can pick the lock she would prefer that to breaking it.
Queshem detects no magic or alignment on it and gives Rabbis the nod. The ex-slave leans in with his crowbar but Thasha jumps in, rolling her eyes. 'Let's try some finesse first..."
The bard produce a small set of tools and gets to work on the lock. In a surprisingly short period of time she pops the lock remarking, "It was more sealed then locked. Whoever designed this wasn't really trying to keep it from being opened."
The inside of the chest is dry. Queshem peers in and takes a mental inventory.
5 sunrods
A small box of rations
A water purification sponge
A set of flint and steel
Two medium sized knives
A bunch of old rags
And an iron ring, tied with a note. The note is in that unknown writing from the lid.
Good work Thasha. Right we're taking the lot. Right of salvage.Let's leave the ring and the note in there till we get back to the ship. Don't want to be hit by an old curse or somesuch. Alright we got a nice extra watertight container fer our stuff as well so load anything ye don't want wet in there and we'll head deeper in fer just a little longer before turning back. Queshem orders.
Thasha, Draflo, what do ye make of the magic on the ring?
Thasa and Draflo examine the ring closely, and cast a few spells over it.
But no one can identify the item.
Rabbis however, says he thinks the strange script looks familiar and he will reflect on it.
Together, the group all plunge into the water and cross to the other side without mishap. The rope helps the weaker swimmers (like Thorrson and Draflo) get across.
The exploring goes well. The tunnel doesn't go much deeper, instead winding landward, the floor an easy to traverse sand. Thorrson is quite useful here and makes sure everyone stays safe and directed. He guesses they aren't very far underground, and are not longer descending.
Once or twice they detect signs of cave life, be it weird oozes or fungus, but the dwarf assures them this is normal and there is little danger. They soon pass into the cave system that Thorrson suggest is under dry land and it runs on to the cave system under the town. He seems fairly certain it connects to the tunnels he explored before.
They rest in a small chamber before heading back.
Polos, sitting near Queshem in the dim light says, 'Well, do we really need to explore the other cave entrance? This should work for us to get into Beachcomber."
We did good work today. Queshem says. I'd love to see what other secrets this place leads to but it's time to be movin' on afore we get noticed. Let's head back. We'll take the bodies with us. I know it's gruesome work but we need to do somethin' to push back against Blackfingers since I ain't riskin tearin' down their foul shipwreck of a shrine. We'll read 'em their rites, and we'll bury 'em at sea. Thorsson, when we're back I want ye and Draflo to update our maps with what we learned of the tunnels. Thahsha, Rabbis think about that writin' we found yeah? We're heading for the bay far away from Beachcomber
The way back is tedious but safe, with Thorsson leading the way. Everyone gets wet, again, swimming through the flooded area. The tide is going out, which makes the current stronger, but everyone holds on to the rope and passes safely.
They gather up the dead, decaying bodies of the floodslain, which is easier said then done. Not only are the bodies half-rotten and filled with rank water, many of them were heavily damaged int he fighting. The captain in particular had been ravaged by Queshem's divine-aided blows. Still, with effort, they are gathered up.
The crew greets them with relief, although the sight of the corpses dampens the mood. Xaikon is brought forth and instantly begins praying over the bodies and doing his best to prepare them, as they are sewn into canvas sheets, as custom for the dead at sea.
Thorsson and Draflo go off to update the maps, with the dwarf postulating new routes based on their findings.
As Queshem oversees getting the ship back into order, Rabbis and Tenkac come up. The former slaves are talking in low voices together. Tenkac, the carpenter, nods slightly to Queshem before speaking, "Captain. Rabbis here was telling me about this note you found. I think it is Vudrani, the script the slavers on the Rampore Islands use. I was kept there for many long years and know the words well. Rabbis scratched the signs for me, and I think the note on the ring says, "Put this on." and the brand on the top of the chest says, "Emergency Use Only". I hope that helps?" The former slave seems eager to please.
Queshem nods at Tenkac. Good work Tenkac, this do be right helpful. Hopefully we won't need to make use of it yeah? Well done. She loops the iron ring with a strong cord and a good knot and wears it around her neck, making sure it doesn't get in the way of her holy symbol.
Queshem nods at Parcell Let's get goin' to the bay. I want to be away from this place. We'll send 'em to their rest as we go. She gives the chest a small nudge and says with a grin We got some loot though. She takes one of the sunrods and commits the rest to the general stores.
Then she joins with Xiakon in praying over the dead in the name of the Master of the Vault and assisting him with burial rights. Once the bodies are disposed of with as much dignity as is possible she goes over to one of the sides of the ship and tosses the sunrod after 'em.
I don't think they're going to be welcomed by either Abadar or Besmara. She comments. But we do what we can, eh? And hope that someone'll do the same for us in the end.
Xakion nods, speaking in his high-pitched voice "taking care of the fallen in the proper way is one of the main tenets of our god. There are few things worse then the chaotic destruction of the undead. You did well bringing them back. I am sure he will bless our mission."
All the sailors hop into action and the ship begins to head north, toward the bay.
The way north is quick and easy, a helpful breeze filling the sails. They dodge a long sweep of sand and then find a small natural bay. Thorsson squints longingly, looking green again.
"The spot on the map looks about 5 miles inland. Might have to cut through some woods, so might take awhile. We better bring supplies."
Queshem nods as she considers the information before her. She had to admit, the silver lining to Magner's mutiny was that she didn't have to worry about him mutinying any longer. Not having to leave crew she knew was loyal to her behind on the ship was an advantage that she had not had before.
Polos, Rabbis, Draflo, Thasha, and I will go ashore along with ye Thorsson. Then she goes to clap the young tengu cleric on the back. How about ye Xiakon? Ya feel up to going inland. Could have used ye when we were tanglin' with the floodslain. Don't expect anymore undead, but it'd still be right helpful to have ye along.
Parcell pretends to sigh heavily, "And I keep the ship ready for either a victory regatta or a desperate dash for freedom?"
Xiakon wavers a bit under the blow from Queshem, still a bit unsteady on his feet. The month on land seems to have lost what little 'sea-legs' he had gathered. Still he nods firmly, saying, "These cultists are a scourge that I would be honored to help remove."
The other all nod, used to being Queshem's go-to team. Polos does say, 'That is leaving the ship without many fighters. They'd have to run if there is trouble and we'd be trapped here."
Queshem sighs One or two of us ain't going to be able to do much regardless if we stay behind. Parcell, ye're to stay way from trouble. If ye spot hostiles then run and hide if ye can, if ye can't, then make fer Quent and get word to Starra. Do the same if we ain't back in three weeks or seem lost. That'll be the place where we try and hook back up if we get split up. Keep the ship ready and caution otherwise yeah?
She addresses the crew. I be headin' into parts unknown inland and leaving the lot of ye to guard The Deadly Bolt. This ship be precious to me. It be the first ship I won in combat and we've all seen it turn from an ill kept vessel into one of the finest ships in The Shackles. We did that. With our sweat and blood and the gold we earned together we've built it into our pride and joy. I wouldn't entrust the care of it to anyone I didn't trust with me life sos it be a good thing that I'd trust each and every one of ye with just that. The Deadly Bolt were never just mine in any case. It's always been ours. I be handing over' charge of it to Parcell now until I get back. Which be soon I hope but the gods only know what the morrow will bring. We know that on the sea more keenly than most who live on the land do. I don't know whether this be the final order I ever give ye or not, and I pray to The Master of the Vault that it not be that, but either way it'd be the same. Keep the ship safe, Keep it formidable, and, if it be a while afore I come back, use it to take care of you just as ye take care of it.
She catches Tound's eye and gives him a deep nod before clasping Parcell and pulling him in close. Pirate hunter should keep both the Besmarans and the Dragons happy if it come to that, yeah? she says to him quietly with a grin.
The assembled crew gives her a cheer and Queshem hears a few cries of "You'll show them, Captain!" and other like remarks. Confidence is high among her crew lately. There is real pride in the new and faster ship and an obvious happiness at being at sea again.
Tound is surprised by her nod but is obviously pleased by it. While still a normal seaman, his experience has obviously helped the average sailors. Sometimes it is awkward, but the heavy-set man has done his best to smooth any waves.
Parcell nods but says, 'I'd rather do it under you. You are a fair Captain, and that is rare enough. Even for an old pirate like me that means alot. Besides, I don't think I have taught you the fine art of looting yet."
Then, more solemnly, "I'll keep her afloat, come hells or high water." He knocks on the wooden railing, as if sealing the promise.
Queshem takes a deep breath and knocks as well. Then she turns to her party. Let's be gettin' a move on then.
Take notes as we go. Mebbe more detailed maps will come in handy.
Queshem whistles to Key to get the young eagle on her shoulder. We're off.
There is a final round of farewells and promises to meet over some grog as the whaleboats are let down. In particular Queshem notes Polos having a quiet moment with one of the female former pirates.
Soon her strike team is on the waves, batteling their way to shore. The ocean is fairly rough today and it takes some skill to avoid getting tumbled in the breakers or running aground on rocks. Thorsson is, again, usless, spending his time being sick over the stern, but everyone else mans the oars with vigor, even Xaikon although the inexperienced tengu is more hindrance then help. As usual Rabbis takes point, the powerful man more then a match for the rough surf.
Without getting overly wet, they land on shore, hull scraping on wet sand. In a few moments, they clamber out of the boat, pulling it out of reach of high tide.
Ahead of them the green wall of the jungle looms, hot and rank. The sun blazes down harshly, dulling the otherwise vivid colors of the jungle. The smells are not the clean air of the sea, but rotting wood and wet leaves. Hot and humid, Queshem instantly breaks into a sweat, even before they begin the march.
They heave the heavy packs as Thasha says, "Might only be a few miles as the crow flies, but it may take us a long while to cut through all this." Key screams and floats above their heads, sharp eyes trained on the jungle ahead.
Queshem squints up at Key wishing that she could see through the bird's eyes. Then she shakes her head at the idle thought.
Rabbis, Polos, up front, the two of ye will be best at hacking through that mess. Then Thasha, Thorsson, Xiakon and Draflo. I'll be rear guard and keep an eye on everyone. Don't lose sight of each other, it be real easy to get separated. Call out if ye feel lost. We'll be standing out to the denizens of the forest like a blazin' fire anyhow. Can't be helped. Thorsson, ye've prospected through such things before right? Anyhow let's get goin'
Thorsson nods but adds, "I've gone ashore in plenty of jungles, but never in the interior of Bag Island. From what I gather, you have done more exploring here then most."
In marching order, they dive into the jungle. Instantly, Queshem can see it is going to be slow going. The forest here is thick with brush and vines, creating a solid green wall of foliage. Polos has to literally hack their way through most of it, forcing everyone to pack into a single-file line behind him. Visibility is non-existent as the plants rise like walls on both sides of them, only sometimes broken by towering pillars of tree trunks.
The hot, sticky arm is filled with biting insects which adds to the misery. Queshem and Polos, due to their childhoods are more accustomed to the heat and Rabbis seems carved from wood, but Draflo, Thasha and Thorsson seem to wilt in the heat and constant struggle against the plants.
Finally, after 4 hours of solid marching, the jungle clears a bit. The trees becoming larger, shading out the undergrowth. There is space here, an expanse of dead leaves, shrouded in dim gloom. Queshem doesn't detect the outright evil here she senses in those undead woods to the north, but something isn't quite right.
Everyone relaxes though, happy to be able to walk freely. Their strict single file line is broken up as they naturally fan out slightly, happy not to be stepping on the others heels.
After a quick break, they reform up to march. After two steps Queshem, with a start, suddenly realizes something. Rabbis is gone. She looks around and spots nothing but empty jungle, marching away in green twilight.
Queshem calls a stop Halt! Where's Rabbis? Magic Light Now! Everyone Look around. Call out anything that seem out of place! And keep each other in sight!
Her normally keen senses seem to be deserting her. She takes a knee to look for Rabbis footprints. She was sure he'd been with them only steps before!
The other starts in surprise. No one seems to have noticed suddenly one member of their party was missing. At Queshem's shouts, Draflo and Thasha send up flares of light, throwing back the green dimness of the trees.
All start calling for Rabbis, but their voices echo back faintly from the trees.
Queshem leans down to examine the ground. Their tracks as a whole are clear but all are muddled and jumbled together. She can see nothing of use among them.
"Any ideas?" Polos remarks, sword held out in front of him, looking for danger.
Our senses be failing us. Use yer others. Detect Magic. I'll detect if there be something strongly aligned Queshem orders, and then goes through a cycle of Detecting Evil, then Chaos, then Law, then Good.
Queshem barks her orders and she sees Draflo start to cast. Herself, she begins searching for alignments, drawing on her inner connection with Abadar.
It takes awhile, turning in every direction, and focusing. With no place to start, she must systematically scan the entire surrounding area, one spot at a time. For an achingly long time, she detects nothing. Had Rabbis just vanished into thing air?
Finally, nearing panic, she catches the edge of an aura. A faint one of Law coming from...
"Up that tree!" Draflo shouts, pointing at a tall jungle tree, with wide branches laden with fruit. It is the same area Queshem is detecting Law from.
The other squint up but see nothing.
We need to climb, or fly, fast! Queshem says loudly. I think I be detectin... Rabbis himself there. But it be faint. We need to be fast. We got that magic or are we climbin' up the hard way? Also if we be havin' something to detect invisiblity then now be the time to be turning it on!
Queshem magically scans the area but can see nothing unusual among the wide branches.
Thasha says, "I have glitterdust, but it is a small area of coverage. We need to pin things down more..."
Dralfo rushes over and taps Queshem on the shoulder. Instantly, the inquisitor feels stronger, more nimble. "There, that should help."
Queshem takes off towards the tree where the faint essence of Law calls to her.
Keep track o' me as I go up! she orders as she moves towards the spot she detected with as much speed as she can, throwing caution to the wind.
If she can, if nothing happens to her, she'll pause halfway up the tree to try and get another fix on the aura of Law.
Queshem darts up the tree, her hands and feet feeling strong and limber. She grips the tree easily, the rough bark giving her plenty of handholds. She had a passing thought that this is much easier then climbing the smooth mast of a pitching ship.
Soon, she is at the lower branches, peering among hanging fruit and leaves. With the help of her auras and those below she soon focuses on a spot. Her questing hands touch something soft, but still invisible. It moves under her touch, as if hanging or loosely connected. It still makes no sound.
Before she orders anything, Thasha sends up a cloud of Glitterdust and the spell covers the area in a fine coat of sparkling motes. It soon outlines a body hanging, upside down, right in front of Queshem. A long rope runs up and out of sight among the tree.
The figure writhes very slowly, as if struggling to breath.
Qushem barks down Slow fall on the dusted person! then she casts Cure Light Wounds on the obviously distressed figure.
Then she climbs up to get to the rope and takes out her dagger to slash at the rope. She does this repeatedly until the figure is freed.
"It is feather fall!" Draflo shouts back, a bit miffed at Queshem's misused of the spell name. Either way she casts the spell so when Queshem cuts the rope, the figure doesn't plummet to the ground.
Instead the shimmering figure floats down. After a few feet, it flashes into sight and it is obviously Rabbis. He is hanging from one ankle in a tight noose, and he looks fairly bruised. Obviously the trap was not gentle when it dragged him up.
The usually stoic ex-slave looks quite shaken and when he hits the ground, he starts to shake. 'I..I was screaming...but you couldn't hear me."
"Silence spell, I bet." Thasha said, eyeing the man.
Invisible, and Silent Queshem says shaking her head. That be elaborate stuff. That mean we're in the territory of people with power and smarts. People that be exactly who we're trying to meet. The Abadaran pauses to try and understand the implications of this No need to be this fancy fer an animal trap. So seems like this be meant to keep intruders out. Draflo, Thahsha, can ye figger what kind of magic user would be able to do this? Wizard type?
Whatever the answer is, We be trying to establish contact. So we might as well try and make our intentions clear.
She shouts out WE BE FROM OFF THE ISLAND. JUST WANT TO TALK
and sees if there is a response. If not she orders. Alright, Draflo, ye and I will keep Detect Magic runnin' as we walk and try'n make our way to one of the marks on the map. Will make us slow but that ain't a bad thing if we going to be dealin' with traps.
She pats Rabbis on the back. I'm glad yer alright. Ye want to rest a bit before we continue?. She casts another heal spell on him.
Queshem's shouts echo off the trees around them, unanswered.The other shuffle nervously, and the empty jungle now seems forbidding and threatening.
Thasha and Draflo look at the trap they can see, and ponder it. Finally the half-elf wizard says, 'It is fairly advanced. Like you said, Captain, this isn't for animals or even for warning. This is a deadly trap aimed at groups to prevent rescue."
Rabbsi shrugs off her help, recovering his composure. "I'm...I'm all right. Let's get to where we are going." he shakes himself and joins the group.
Dralfo does add, 'very slow. Detect Magic takes time and we'll have to cover everything. We will probably not make it tonight."
Polos mutters, 'Making camp here sounds wonderful."
Xaikon eyes him then hangs back and places a feathered hand on Queshem's arm. "Just to be sure." and he keeps ahold as they continue inward.
The pace is slow, as Draflo guessed. They scan the area ahead thoroughly before proceeding, making the entire affair drag along. In addition to the scanning,t heir own magical items sometimes confuse the pair, and they have to work it out. The sun passes overhead and slowly starts to arc to the west before they have covered more then another two miles of rough terrain.
Then Queshem spots a shape in a tree. At first she thinks it is another fruit, but they looks closer. It is too large, too pale....With horror, she sees it is a human figure hanging upside down...
Queshem grimaces Whoever be here don't want to be disturbed, that be fer sure.
She advances very carefully checking her footing as she goes until she gets into Sift Range.
Queshem edges closer then examines the body from a safe distance.
It is a halfling, she realizes, peering magically. Strung up the same way Rabbis was, except there is a jagged gash across the throat. A red stains covers the head from the dripping blood, building up in a grisly mass in the curly hair.
His skin is pale from lack of blood, and Queshem realizes he was quite young. He is dressed in dirty, ragged clothing that has seen much jungle use. There is no gear, and she wonders if it was stolen or if he was traveling that light. The only other thing of note is a humble green armband, tied tightly.
'Do we cut him down?" Polos asks, reading Queshem's face.
Qushem, mouth tight So this be the interior of Bag Island eh? Both Raffles and Gnarea with all their power, fine with matters such as these in their own home.
Then to Polos she says Yeah, we'll take precautions, but we will. See what the manner o his death can tell us and then give 'im a quick grave. And a vigil too actually. This be as good a place as any to camp. We ain't hidin' from whoever did this, and it be obvious that they came along to kill what their trap caught. Maybe we'll find 'em,
or the poor dead bastard's people.
Polos, Rabbis, a shallow grave, Thasha, Thorsson, a simple grave marker if you would, Xiakon, a simple ceremony, Draflo, anything else you can figure from all this? Heck if anyone else be havin' ideas then I want to know. Then we set up camp and set up a double watch, spend the night.
Carefully, they approach the body and gently cut it down. While Xaikon prays over it, giving the soul over to Abadar, Queshem examines the body closely for clues.
She guesses the halfling died awhile ago but there seems to be some magic or preservation at work to prevent rot. There are no maggots or bite marks from scavengers, which is unusual in a hot and humid jungle. That makes it hard to tell how long it hung, but she guesses a week or more.
The armband was worn before, as best as she can tell. The armband itself doesn't symbolize anything to her, although it looks simply made in a rush. There are no items except an empty pouch at the belt, so the body was looted.
Queshem looks up as Xaikon finishes praying and gasps. In the distance hang more bodies...at least a dozen, strung up among the trees.
Draflo mutters, 'This is beyond a simple trap to keep outsiders away, Queshem. This is something fouler, eviler."
Queshem shudders as she makes the discovery. She casts her mind back to her inquisitorial training to try and make sense of it. What manner of death was this that would trap, then kill, then loot, and in such a way that the body would be preserved.
It is difficult to think back to those distant days in Absalom, standing in a humid jungle confronted with rows of dead corpses. Queshem had always been more interested in the practical side of things, in those days. How to sail, how to lead a group then in dry discussions of religion. The more esoteric items never featured much on her mental landscape.
The fact these corpses aren't merely puddles of decaying meat after hanging in the jungle for a week or so, tells her there is something dark here beyond usual evil, unnatural. No animals or even vermin dared approach these strung up victims. This was a cruel way to kill but the fact that these were visible, despite the spells pointed to...intimidation. Whoever, whatever did his, wanted to send a message.
We ain't goin' deeper. We're switchin' tracks. We need to find where the victims came from. Queshem decides. Thorsson, it seem obvious that the map mark we be followin' be leadin' deeper into the lands of some magic users that'll kill to keep folks out. Could be some of the other marks on the map be the folks that are bein' kept out. Mark this place as a boundary maker o' sorts on there and we need to decide what's the most likely place this poor halfling came from. Give me options. I no want to camp in sight of this horror though that be fer sure.
Queshem scans the ground, looking for tracks, natural rotues, even game trails. With Draflo providing magical aid to avoid traps (Queshem finds one untripped), she circles the area.
It is tough to tell but she guesses the tracks lead outward, from the same direction Queshem is headed.
Thorsson speaks first, breaking the silence. 'We could simply go back. Forget all of this and head back to the sea caves. This isn't our mission, is it?"
Xakion shakes his head, high pitched voice rising, "This is a great evil, although we do not know the type. It is our duty to rid the land of it, as best we can."
Thasha looks quite sick at the death all around and stays silent.
Polos and Rabbis, after a quick talk suggest camping perhaps in one of the massive jungle trees, off the ground. It won't be comfortable but more defensible.
Draflo seems to somewhat agree with Thorrson but doesn't say so.