If I get out of this alive, I'll not do awt as daft again
Wincing with the pain in his back, Healaugh ducks, suppresses a howl and keeps running.
Get on with it, you fool humans ...
Healaugh races over to the bound man and sees that he is an old male human, with long white hair and beard and a rather wild-eyed look at the moment. Which is hardly surprising.
"You understand me?"
Clutching his injured back, Healaugh drops to the ground and waits for a response from the man.
"Hav'ta hurry. Scum'll be coming."
...and we're all sharkbait if we don't get a move on.
Strength check to roll the rock on to the hapless foes
Tresmeer aims to help Bran but as he pushes his beard gets trapped under the rock.
The old man splutters at Healaugh, as on the hill the two men flounder around trying to push the boulders. The last of the yrchish Fhoi Myore falls to a spear, and the the pucha-folk spy the latest combatant (in the form of Healaugh)
Before they can do anything, a clatter of stones turns into a cascade of boulders as Bran puts his back into it. A torrent of stones falls on the terrified sea-demons before they can escape. The hail of stone narrowly misses the halfling and the now rescued old man, who looks on in amazement.
"Sharkbait scum. Crushed ya!"
"Good work lads!"
he yells across to his companions, his voice mostly drowned out by the noise of the wind and thunder. Coming back to his senses, he turns to the bewildered old man.
"You hurt?. Can you walk?"
Tresmeer waits to make sure that Healaugh is out of danger then he runs off to fetch the rest of the party.
--
"Dey bin crushed by der rocks, you folks cun come an' see to this 'ere robed man. Healaugh as 'im now."
The sweat streams down his face, with all this exercise and rock pushing and he weaves a bit on the spot. "Healaugh gotten shot by dem bledy little uns, but ees a tough little un 'imslef." The farmer tries to let the adrenalin slow and stop but its difficult to do.
"You cummin'?"
At the news Healaugh is injured Siobhán quickly follows Tresmeer, sure that Conall is strong enough to follow, especially with Melisana for support if he needs it. Without spells she feels all but useless, save a few scraps of knowledge and her healer's skill. Watching the farmer sway from exeretion and adrenaline she wraps an arm loosely around him.
"That was very brave of you" She tells him lightly and assuringly "Are you sure you're not hurt at all?"
Tresmeer is shocked out of his unsteadiness by the hug.
"Um, I'm, um, eh, foine, missus Siobhan."
Close to, his face shows a more tortured and angry farmer - angry at his lack of usefulness. Then he covers his emotions with a beardy grin.
"Must 'ave been a damn good shot to 'it Healaugh, must of!"
Healaugh
The old man recovers from his shock, and you get a better look at him; his beard is less white and more... yellow. It needs a good wash. He has a sallow complexion, and wide eyes that only seem to be marginally less wide than when he was watching the battle unfold. He starts to jabber immediately at your questions,
"Aye, aye, I unnerstan' ye, little one. Stranded ye must be, I can help ye, aye, take ye to shelter an' all! I ken this isle like the back o' me hand. What ye wanna know?"
Incongruously, his torrent of words is unhindered by having his arms trussed like a hunting prize.
"I'm not a 'missus'" she replies with a little shake of her head "Just Siobhán"
Releasing him from the loose embrace she gives the young farmer a small smile. "You need to learn to stop hiding your emotions" She announces flatly "We're all in the same boat and feeling similar things afterall" She adds before turning her attention to the robed man and the halfling ahead.
"Help'd be good" admits Healaugh. "Got friends coming", he adds as he sees them approaching.
With a belated sense of caution, he refrains from undoing the bonds until his friends arrive.
"Why'd those scum want you? Thought they et captures."
"They wanted the tresure, ye see. But I din tell 'em." the man says to Healaugh after a brief while.
The rest of the escapees arrive, having carefully (very carefully in Conall's case) crested the rise. Healaugh undoes the man's bonds and the old fellow gratefully rubs his wrists. Now he's up you can see that he's very old indeed but still hale at 6 feet tall. His blue eyes have a piercing quality to them.
"Ye'd best be getting tae shelter, 'specially with yon fella ther." he adds, pointing at Conall.
"Foller me." with that he sets off out of the ravine.
Tresmeer looks around the ground at the dead.
"Dee weapons an' armour, mebbes good fur Conall an me. Dem clothes may smell but dey be keepin' us warm fur an hour or two."
"Don't want to be using pucha scum weapons." snarls Healaugh.
"Look a good size for me mind." he adds reluctantly. "An clothes wouldn't hurt none. Could do wi' more 'an trousers."
Despite his feelings of revulsion, Healaugh joins Tresmeer in the search for useable gear for the party.
The fisherman and the farmer hunt around amongst the mutilated bodies of the sea-demons.
They find:
Cloaks for everyone in the party (slightly verminous)
2 longspears (Small size)
5 daggers (Small size)
A pair of high, hard boots
Padded armour (Medium size)
5 battle axes (Medium size)
Unfortunately, the bows and arrows have all been smashed.
Healaugh perks up at the sight of the spears.
"Can use them" he remarks with satisfaction, testing them for balance and wrapping himself in the vile cloak.
"Daggers are good too. Can give this thing back to Bran. Lessen you or one of t'others want it." he suggests to Tresmeer.
Tresmeer takes a battleaxe uncertainly. "Taint a farmer's weapon. Nor dat dagger."
He offers Siobhan the padded armour. "Keep you warm and protect yum a bit. Tis roight that it belong to yum."
Then the moorwalker wraps a cloak round his body, appreciating the protection.
"Boots a'nt no good to me. How 'bout Connal, think they'll fit lad?"
"Share an' share alike. He cun have em."
'Ooh-yea. That was harder to do than any tree I have fleed' Bran says coming down to join Healaugh and Tressmer. He listens to the old man ramble on about some treasure, noting it and remembering it for later.
As the Halfing and Tressmer go through the bodies of the Faries and their equipment he eyes one of the battleaxes with great glee and excitment.
'I hope no one minds that I take an an axe, could anyone use this sword?' He takes the dagger from Healaugh and puts in a fold of his armour.
'So sir, could you direct us to any shelter?' he askes the old man as the wind and rain rage against him and his friends.
Siobhán takes the offered armour a little uncertainly. "Surely this would be better for someone more adept in a fight than I am. A cloak would serve just fine to keep me warm" She declares openly and sweetly, seeming touched that Tresmeer wants to help keep her warm.
"Although this isn't the weather to be standing around sharing things around in, let's just grab as much as we can and we can go over it all once we've found shelter."
"Keepin' the 'ealer alive, keeps us'll well." He pushes the padded armour back into her hands.
Then waits to see where things go from here.
"Aye, keep t'healer warm is good advice."
With the armour in the possession of Siobhan, and Melisana having taken a dagger as well, the group sets off after the old man. He's pretty limber for his age and sets a good pace.
"'Ey, will ye get yer friends tae foller or no, wee man?" the old man asks Healaugh, "Ah, here they come, c'mon!"
With that he's off again.
As always, Healaugh ends up running to keep pace with these long-legged humans.
"Where are we then?"
gasps the halfling,
"and what's goin' on 'ere? Not seen Fhoi Myore fight each other afore. Pah. Hates 'em I does."
Pain and the effort of keeping up put an end to his questions.
Siobhán follows silently for a while before her polite streak takes over and she moves a little closer to the robed man.
"Thank you for taking us to shelter sir. I'm Siobhán" The half-elf introduces herself quietly but loud enough to be heard over the storm.
The old man turns to Healaugh and says over his shoulder, "D'you know ken where y'are? Hehe! That's sorta funny, aye." and to Siobhan he stops and says, "Ma name? Ah have nae needed that fer a long time, aye. Ma name be Coinneach, and yer the first human faces ah've seen in more years than ah can remember, aye!"
He turns to you all and draws himself up, "Ya would nae know it to look at me but in mah day, in mah day, I was groom to himself - to Viladel, the Sea King. Aye, this is his island! Did ye nae know that?"
DM
"Likely miles from anywhere but fish then." grumbles Healaugh.
"Name's Healaugh. M'a halfling." he adds, a little unnecessarily. "If'n you were Sea King's groom, why're you still here? Could've built boat by now."
Fool humans. Can't do awt by theyselves. Been me stuck here forty year, would have been away long since.
Siobhán's eyes widen a little in delight at Coinneach's words, it was even more thrilling than a new book, a living piece of history. Still, she knew it would be rude to interrogate him right now so she keeps herself quite quiet for the time being, merely nodding thankfully at his ntroduction.
"Yum guarding der treasure, Cunnitch?" asks the farmer as he strides along.
"P'haps us'll slow a bit fur dee 'alfling. Eee be on shorta legs although dey do reach the groind as we say on Dennik."
"So full o' questions y'are!" the old man says testily, "Eh, I do forget that ye don't all ken this ol' place like me. Right enough, We'l slow a bit for yon wee man."
He leads you down backtrails and across rough terrain, "I dinnae wanna get mesen caught by them Formors again." he huffs as you trudge across the island.
He carries on his story at points, "Himself died when th' pirates crushed the isle, years and years ago, when ma hair was still black and ma face was nae so lined. I didnae fight on the day the pirates came, ah wasnae a gallowglass even then. I hid mesen in an overturned, ruined boat no-one looked under, while tha murdering and burning went on day afta day. Finally the pirates was gone and ah've been here alone since then."
He clambers over some rocks, "Living in the house of the Sea King, protecting the treasure he left behind, aye the treasure as ye said, man" he says to Tresmeer, "For the pirates ne'er found the real goods o' Viledel, just some trinkets and baubles kept in the manor - and gettin' tired and grey. How long has it been?"
"Sixty year you've been 'ere! What're ye guarding that's so special?"
Healaugh sounds impressed in spite of himself by Coinneach's tenacity.
"Twas sixty, grandar said so in 'is stories. But dat meks you bout sebenty or more! How long yum bin fightin' dees formor den?" the farmer tugs his beard as he walks, carefully flicking the drips away from his cloak and robe.
"Dy must 'ave a boat, must um?"
Ynyr
The boat later broke apart on the reefs at the southeast tip of the island, and you made it alive to the coast, but you were scattered and you have no idea where anyone else is.
You have been wandering for most of the day, tired and lost. You hear voices up ahead; human voices... a group of people come into view led by an old man.
Everyone else
As you are listening to the old man's tale and making your way to shelter, you hear a noise up ahead. A figure appears over a rise; it has the size and shape of a man.
"Friend o' yourn?" asks Healaugh suspiciously.
"No Healaugh. Eee wus sat behind you an' in front of me on dee oars."
"He cun help us. An' we 'im." Nods the moorwalker.
Hesitantly at first but then with gathering speed, Ynyr approaches the party.
"And I was just saying to meself, I must be the only one alive! And here you all are! Isn't that so? Escaped I did, but the boat was dashed. Well, I heard the noises and thought it must be more of those awful pirates, wouldn't you? Is it really the poor souls I was caught up with? I was sure you'ld be dead and me left to wander alone, how could I not?"
He has reached the party by now and, realising how exhausted he actually is, abruptly flops into to a sitting position in front of them.
"There be a whole barrelful o' ye now," mutters Coinneach, "C'mon," he says, "Have nae the time to be sittin' aboot."
He sets off, seemingly heedless of the newcomer.
"Long as he's not seascum. Get oop man, we're ont way to shelter. Tes storming."
Wet. Yes. So much for dignity.
Standing up again he follows after the halfling.
"Ynyr Treiglwyr. Scholar. I see we have an invalid. Is he alright? Nothing broken would there be?"
"Hafkris hit 'im with broadsword." explains the halfling. He plods on a few steps and adds
"Scholar? That be good. Found some papers. Not learned meself, m'fisherman. Healaugh."
Siobhán frowns a little as the halfling mentions the papers to the scholar but bites her tongue.
'Of course, scholar always overshadows the wisewoman' She bitterly and silently bemoans as she wraps her arms around herself and walks at a steady pace behind Coinneach 'Now I truly am useless to this grouping.' Whilst she trides to hide the pain at yet another blow to her ego she's far from a gifted actress so she hangs her head to hide her face a little.
"P'haps us cun keep movin', Ynyr. I be Tresmeer an' us need rest an' shelter proper now!"
"lead on, farther," asks him of the old man.
Later on, whne the party start moving again, he speaks to Siobhan on the quiet, "Tis a shame, you never met Ma. She be wise. People listened to 'er. You know when she be gone, everyone missed 'er help in so many ways." He pats her shoulder then carries on.
Siobhán gives a gentle smile at Tresmeer's words and falls in step beside him. "I would have loved to have met your mother" She tells him lightly with an even brighter smile "She sounds like a wonderful woman and she raised a fine son"
She knew the compliment had a chance of been taken as a little too much but she was truly thankful for his words. The situation wasn't a competition afterall and she would do her hardest to help the group survive, even if that meant bowing out gracefully to those more skilled for the mostpart.
Noticing the healer's unhappy look and Tresmeer's attempts to comfort her, Healaugh canters over.
"If'n I've upset you Siobhan, I'm sorry. We're all int' mess together and weren't right of me to speak so. You know I'm daft herring and acts stupid when I gets ideas." he concludes ruefully.
"Get meself killed if'n weren't for Tresmeer and Bran here. Reckons as we all need each other. You just ding me round lug if I speak out of line to ye."
Siobhán shakes her head a little at the halfling. "You have nothing to apologise for Healaugh" she assures him kindly "I'm just feeling a little out of my element, back home I'm needed, but here. I just feel like a hinderance." She confides honestly with a tiny smile.
"But I know that's just the tiredness and the fact I haven't been able to pray effectively for so long talking. I always feel insecure when I feel cut off from the earthmother, she's the only family I have."