Usawoti manages to bring down two of the bulettes as they close in. Once they're within range, though, they burst out of the ground with mighty leaps!
While one fails to get high enough, the other three land atop the plateau. One is immediately blasted to the ground by Torsten's powerful punch, but the other two attack with a flurry of claws.
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Having drawn his weapons as the beasts approach, Usawoti keeps the totem leaning against his shoulder, studying the bulette as it springs from the ground. Unable to dodge the claws of the beasts Usawoti's blood begins to run down the totem as he shifts it from left to right, attacking the creature. First swinging the hammer, then slashing with the klar, and repeating the process.
Torsten quickly found how hard it was to defend himself against a large beast with one hand, all the awhile not moving from his position, and in return to try and fight back. He managed to hold it off, but he struggled to get the kind of grip on it that he wanted so that he could pull it down to the ground and stomp it to death.
While the bulettes are easy to hit, the creatures' stony hides and the handicap caused by your totems mean that you both struggle to deal significant damage. Fortunately, the beasts' size also limits their mobility now that they're no longer burrowing, and your own defenses are equally significant.
Bulette (torsten): 33pts damage
Bulette (usawoti): 11pts damage
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Smiling when he realized the Klar and cut the shark like dirt creature, Usawoti, dodge tooth and claw. His eyes widen as one of the beasts talons strikes the totem. Shifting the totem slightly he again swings his earth breaker at the thing and shifting the klar again slashes at it's tough hide again.
Reaching out, Torsten managed to get a solid hold on the bulette's armored hide. Even with one hand holding up the totem, he was still strong enough to slam it into the ground with his other. This was, after all, the same dwarf who had punched his way through a stone wall. Once it was on the ground he raised a foot and slammed it down upon the creature's head. Runic power met hardened hide as his foot went down again and again, seeking to crack the creature open and leave it a gory mess.
Torsten turns his bulette into a bloody mess as Usawoti continues to hack away at his own.
Bulette (usawoti): 39pts damage
Torsten watched as Usawoti fought for his life with a sense of helplessness. He had nothing that could reach the shaman. If he went to help, it meant letting his totem fall. With a sour look on his face, he did the only thing he could think of doing, offer moral support. "Ye got this, lad!" He called out, as if though it would help.
While the bulette is easy to hit, the beast's stony hide is very difficult to penetrate.
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Seeing Torsten defeat the bulette with his fists, Usawoti growls when his weapons do not even penetrate the beast's hide. Usawoti grew up in the Cinderlands and had trained for years to fight with hammer and klar against such beasts. And now this bare-handed city-dweller was more effective at fighting the wilds of the Cinderlands than he.
Shifting around the totem, keeping it upright while dodging the claws and muzzle of the bulette, Usawoti swallowed his pride. He was more than just a warrior of the Skoan-Quah, more than just muscle and sinew and weapons, he was a Skoan-Quah Bone Caster. Lifting his hammer filled fist he pointed the bone ring at the bullette, Speaking the words, "വിനാശകരമായ സ്ഫോടനം സ്പെൽ പോയിന്റ്" Spending more of his magical energy to make the blast more deadly he launched a destructive blast at the bullette.
Your blast completely ignores the bulette's thick armor, inflicting serious damage. It immediately begins to beat a hasty retreat.
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Watching the effects of the destructive blast rip through the bullette, Usawoti nods as the beast chooses to save its life. He considered finishing the creature as it fled, realizing if it was a hunt he'd mount Mope and ride the thing down. But this was not a hunt, he'd not defeated the thing in physical combat. He was only here to pass this Sklar Quah test, not to prove himself worthy of living in the Cinderlands, he'd done that already time and time again.
Looking up at the dwarf, he nods towards the fleeing land shark. "There smarter than they look." As he moves his neck and back he felt the wounds from the bulette's attack. Seeing the wounds on Torsten as well he stood up straight as he moved his hand casting positive energy "പോസിറ്റീവ് എനർജി" Repeating the spell until he felt whole.
On the dawn of the third day, the Sun Shaman leads the entire tribe up to Bolt Rock in the pre-dawn hours, and as the sun rises, the sight of two untoppled totems is greeted with a rousing cheer. You've done it! "Two totems means two new brothers for the Sklar-Quah. Welcome!"
Later, after the celebration is over, the Sun Shaman quietly approaches you. "I am nearly ready to speak about the information you seek, but first I must commune with my ancestors at the Kallow Mounds. Their wisdom will bolster my knowledge, as what you ask happened well before my time. I have magic to speed my travel, so this journey will take no more than a day. Please take that time to rest, recover, and relax."
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Torsten allowed himself a small smile. He was officially part of another Clan. It was just one more element of his life which would give his father a heart attack. He wondered how the old coot would respond when he inevitably returned home and told him that he was officially Shoanti of the Sklar-Quah.
For the day, Torsten made the most out of it. He sought out the most knowledgeable of his new clan-members in the art of tattooing, for he had spent more than enough time pondering as towards the tattoo that had been added to his hand. It was meant for conjuring, that was certain, but he was certain that it could be modified. What the tattoo did was take in power from the world around them and use it as fuel to summon forth another being, and in doing so it would burn itself out. It was useful, to be sure, but he had another idea for it. The tattoo was like a dam, which could be broken so that a flood might ensue. But what if the tattoo could bring in a fraction of the power, store it, and then use it to fuel one's own body? It wouldn't burn out if it was done right, and if his calculations were correct (and he was certain that they were), the tattoo could power all of the major bodily functions. The magical power would replace food, water, sleeping, even breathing. It was like the rings that he and Usawoti wore. Only rather than using the ring to funnel the magic, he would use the tattoo. It felt right to him, that the very tattoo which had earned him the right to take the trial would be used in such a manner. It would remove but another weakness, leaving him one step closer to perfection.
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Watching as the Sklar-Quah followed their Shaman to the Bolt Rock, Usawoti looks from the shoanti to his dwarven friend, hoping that their accomplishment would provide the information he needed. As the tribe began to cheer, Usawoti gave a light smile, maybe it wouldn't be so bad being part of two tribes.
Having been part of Shoanti celebrations before, he watched his new dwarven friend, making a mental note to ask him how it compared to the parties in the big chelish city. But as he imagined celebrations in the city his thoughts darkened. The reminder that he'd promised 'Thousand bones' he'd help Torsten 'fix' the city started to overshadow the celebration.
Relieved when the celebration was over, he waited expectantly as the shaman approached ready for the old man to share his knowledge, so they could be on their way. Letting out a sign, he held his tongue as the elder explained he'd need time to 'commune' at the mounds. Biting his tongue again he resisted he urge to tell the elder he could rest when he was dead and simply nodded returning to the yurt they'd slept in four days before.
The following day Usawoti spent most of his time in the tent, sharpening blades and checking gear. Taking the precaution to weave a new rope from his robe. Occasionally stepping out into the daylight to check on his raven and horse. Keeping to himself, waiting in the comfortable darkness for the shaman to return.
Just after the sun goes down, the air fills with the sound of shrieks and roars. Looking out of your yurt, you see a large number of gargoyles attacking the camp. With them are humanoids wearing insect-like crimson armor and wielding strange blades - the same warriors you fought in the Acropolis of the Thrallkeepers . The other Shoanti are quick to rouse themselves and begin fighting, but the odds are definitely not in your favor.
”Fooking hell, lad. This doesn’t look good.” Torsten said. ”Stay back to back. Make them come to us.” Given the sheer number of enemies, it didn’t seem wise to charge blindly in. If nothing else, this would be a good opportunity to practice fighting as a team. Assuming they survived.
dice=Standard action Vital Strike]1d20+21[/dice]
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Looking out into the encampment, Usawoti nods, chuckling at the dwarfs exclamation. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Usawoti does a quick count, "An even dozen, I'd have thought they'd send thirteen just in case."
Realizing that when he'd need to start using death magic that he'd need the shoanti out of the reach of his spell he calls out,
Lifting his hammer-filled left-hand he points the ring towards the two approaching from the south-east, targeting the Gargoyle. Channeling more of his mystical power into the spell, he tells the ring "വാംപിരിക് പ്രേത സമരം" Sending a black smoky ray at the Gargoyle.
Usawoti's shout draws the attention of several of your enemies - who quickly charge in and attack. Usawoti's ray injures the first gargoyle as it comes in, and then Torsten obliterates what's left of it with a titanic punch.
Seeing that they were outnumbered, Torsten decided to just try and thin the enemy ranks as quickly as he could. Rather than focusing on bringing a single foe to the ground, he instead just lashed out with fist and foot.
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Feeling the energy sap from the gargoyle to himself, Usawoti smiled as Torsten smashed the creature with a punch. Ducking the blade of the red assassin, Usawoti pauses to see if more draw near. Telling the ring "മരണ ഊർജ്ജം അയയ്ക്കുക, കുള്ളനെ രക്ഷിക്കുക" sending a sphere of negative energy into the camp around them.
Torsten brings down one of the assassins and heavily wounds another. Usawoti's channeled energy finishes it off and wounds everyone in a large area around him. Fortunately, most of the Sklar-Quah warriors are too far away to be affected.
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"Blast!" Cursing as the gargoyle gores him and one of the assassins cut him with it's serrated blade. He holds his ground, seeing more of the enemy move with in the range of his attack. Again commanding "മരണ ഊർജ്ജം അയയ്ക്കുക, കുള്ളനെ രക്ഷിക്കുക" sending a sphere of negative energy into the camp around them.
The living attackers were replaced by gargoyles. Their claws slashed out at Tortsten, who did little in the way of dodging. Trusting his runic tattoos to keep him safe, their claws reacted to his flesh as if though they had struck solid plate. In return, his fists lashed out, hitting with all of the power of sledgehammers. By the time he was done, both were reduced to little more than rubble.
As Torsten obliterates gargoyles, Usawoti continues to guard his back and damage anyone who gets too close. You're thinning their numbers, but the attack continues.
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Blocking the assassins blade with his hammer, Usawoti glares at the Gargoyle as it's horns tear his 'Robe of Infinite Twine' mumbling, "Stupid Gargoyle" as the robe begins to knit itself back together. Turning the hammer in his hand so the ring faces the assassin, he commands again ""മരണ ഊർജ്ജം അയയ്ക്കുക, കുള്ളനെ രക്ഷിക്കുക" sending a sphere of negative energy into the camp around them.
The gargoyles exploded into shards. The dust and debris momentarily blocked Torsten's vision. Taking full advantage of this, three assassins leapt at him. The first had his blade stab out, blocked by Torsten's arm. Solid steel met flesh, but the runes inscribed upon him turned the blade away, leaving no more than a faint mark. The second assassin came at the other side, both blades raised overhead. Torsten stepped to the side, the blades coming down into thin air. But this was naught but a distraction, as a third was behind him. With all of his strength, the assassin plunged the blade into Torsten's back. A normal man would have been impaled by the strike, but for Torsten the blade only managed to draw sink in deep enough to draw blood. Grunting in both pain and surprise, he went about counter attacking. Trusting his craft to keep him safe, he waded into the fray. Solid stone had broken before his fists, so what chance did flesh and bone have? One by one he turned his attention to them, fighting in a manner that was as brutal as it was inevitable. All but eschewing defense, he sought to grab arms, legs, collar bones, anything he could get his hands on. And from there? There he would squeeze, feeling bodies break within his hands. And once in his grasp, he would pull the assassins in to punch with his other hand. One unfortunate found what a true impaling strike was like, as Torsten's hand went into the man's gut and out of his back. Covered in gore past his elbow, he let the assassin fall to the ground, his tattoos already working to clean the mess off of him.
Only a few enemies remain - all of them injured due to Usawoti's relentless channeling. This doesn't deter them, though.
Finding his hand stuck in the body of a fallen foe made it quite hard to defend against three new enemies at once. Freeing himself (and using what was left of the disintegrating foe as an improvised shield), Torsten continued to lash out at the ones who were left.
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Shifting from one side to the other, Usawoti dodges first the gargoyle then the assassins blade. Shaking his head at the suicidal mature of the attackers, he tells them, "You should have fled." Turning the hammer in his hand so the ring points towards the most the assailants, he commands again. ""മരണ ഊർജ്ജം അയയ്ക്കുക, കുള്ളനെ രക്ഷിക്കുക" sending a sphere of negative energy into the camp around them.
As the last of your enemies fall, the battle is won! Fortunately, the Sklar-Quah are hardy folk, and despite the unexpectedness of the attack, came through with relatively few casualties. The overall mood, in fact, is triumphant.
Torsten shook the worst of the remnants of battle off of his hands, while his tattoos did the rest. Turning to Usawoti, he slapped the man on the back. "Well done, lad. Well done." He said, his wounds already healing, leaving no trace behind.
"Same fookers from before, aye? Only this time with stone beasties. I should have taken ye advice from earlier and tried to take one alive. Got a bit caught up in the excitement of it all." He finished, glancing back to the remains of the attack.
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As the black glow from Usawoti's tattoo and bone ring dissipates, Usawoti, looks around the camp realizing how many of the Sklar-Quah had seen his power. He was not used to letting those who witness the Skoan-Quah bone casters gifts live. Rarely had he ever used them in front of anyone he was not using them on. Shaking off the feeling of dread, he nodded as Torsten congratulated them. Watching as the dwarf's tattoo's healed him, Usawoti echoed the sentiment. "Yes, well done."
Chuckling at Torsten's observation, Usawoti responded. "Yes, same 'Fookers' at least these brought gargoyles and made it interesting." He shrugs, "I've a feeling taking one alive will only make us do things we will regret. Obviously, they are some sort of suicide cult." He smiles, "I hear 'death by dwarf' is just the rage in all the cities."
Looking around the encampment, he asks, "What will you tell the Shaman?"
”Lately it has been.” Torsten responded. ”Too many fookers won’t let a craftsman be. Someday idiots will stop running into me fists. I hope.” He said, looking at the cheering Shoanti. ”Will tell them that the Queen is making her move, and we need that information now. Won’t have much time to rest, especially if we want to keep these people safe. We’ll need to move on.” His voice slowly lost its jovial tone.
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Chuckling at Tosten's comment about 'idiots running into fists' Usawoti bit his tongue. In his experience the opposite was true, but he didn't want to spoil the dwarves hopes. Nodding in agreement as he looked over the tribe, remembering what 'Thousand Bones' had told him. "Yes moving on would be good. Apparently we have a Chelish city to save from itself."
Once the Sun Shaman returns, he's ready to recount an ancient legend.
"Many hundreds of years ago, a man named Mandraivus gathered a small group of heroes to fight a despotic blue dragon named Kazavon, and my ancestor was one who joined this crusade. This ancestor, a shaman named Amarund, was gone for months. When she finally returned, she was not the same woman - her hands shook, her eyes carried a haunted stare, and she cried out in fear at night. She spoke little of what she had experienced while fighting at Mandraivus's side, but did say that they were successful in defeating Kazavon and that the dragon's fortress of Scarwall in Belkzen was now under Mandraivus's control.
"While Kazavon had been defeated, his will to live was so immense that even the remains of his body twitched. The heroes attempted to destroy the remains, but key fragments of the dragon's skeleton resisted even their most destructive spells. Mandraivus tasked the seven surviving heroes, among them Amarund, with each claiming one of the bony relics of Kazavon's body and taking them far from Scarwall. None of the seven would communicate where they were going to the others or to Mandraivus in hopes of ensuring that their chosen relics would remain hidden and guarded for all time in order to prevent the dragon from returning to life.
"Amarund told this story to her fellow shamans and revealed that her selected relics were the dragon's fangs, which she called Midnight's Teeth. She and the other shamans chose the ancient pyramid on the shores of Conqueror's Bay as the fangs' reliquary. After hiding them in a secret room deep inside the pyramid, Amarund and her descendants swore to ensure the fangs would remain safe. For generations, they maintained their task - until Cheliax invaded and drove us off. The few survivors who knew the secret of the fangs were forced to flee with their kin into the Cinderlands. For the next three centuries, the knowledge was passed from Sun Shaman to Sun Shaman, and we have watched with fearful eyes as the city of Korvosa has grown up around our ancient reliquary."
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"The fragments of Kazavon's soul are like seeds: once they find soil in which to bloom, they can bloom into a mighty tree. This is what I fear has happened to your queen. Her own cruelty and strength have been enhanced greatly by Midnight's Teeth. Worse, she now possesses two souls: her own and one grown from the fragment of Kazavon's. This would grant her incredible power over her own mortality."
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While you process this information, Torsten suddenly receives a sending from Cressida Kroft. "Return to Korvosa! An opportunity to strike at our enemies has presented itself. The Mantis and Maidens will fall! Seek us in the Dead Warrens!"
Torsten listened quietly, nodding when appropriate but doing nothing to interrupt. Doing so would be beyond rude. That, and the information was all pertinent to what they were setting out to accomplish. What he gathered from all of this was that they were all, inside and outside of the city, in deep trouble.
This respectful silence ended when Kroft's voice suddenly filled his mind. Standing up in surprise, he looked around with a worried look on his face. "Uhm..." He said, to those present. "I just got a message from Kroft. She is an ally, who, err...well, is working against Kazavon. She says that there is an opportunity back in the city to strike at the Mantis and the Maidens. The mantis be the fook-, the red-cloaks who attacked us here, and the Maidens being Kazavon's personal army. She wants me to meet her in the Dead Warrens." He let that hang for a moment. "I'm not able to respond, and I do worry that this might be a trap. Just, uhm, laying this all out so we are all on the same page. Before we jump to any conclusions, what is this about having two souls. How do we rip out these seeds?"
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Listening as the Shaman told the tale, Usawoti frowned. One more thing the cursed Chelish did to his people. Nodding his understanding, he was surprised when Torsten explains his sending. After Torsten askes the shaman his questions he adds, "Once we have acquired the 'Midnight's Teeth' should we destroy them, hide them where no one can find or bring them back to you?"
Then turning to Torsten, he asks, "How soon can you be ready to leave? Trap or no, we will take the darkness of the Skoan-Quah to them and they shall know fear."
Usawoti's connection to the souls of the dead unexpectedly bears fruit. The spirit of a young Varisian woman appears in his mind, and she chants an ancient poem before fading away. You and Torsten later find a Harrow card tucked among your other possessions.
Her cage for years sustained.
Four enthralled in lost Scarwall;
Undead to keep her chained.
A spirit first, red war his thirst
Still stands at post of old;
A second foe, infernal soul
Waits high in tower cold.
In kennel's grime, third bides his time
Then vents his killing breath.
And on a stone 'mid ash and bone,
The final dreams of death.
The spirits worn and battle torn
And locked in their damnation,
The chained one's hold at last grows old
And ushers in salvation.
Yet hope remains amid the chains
When blade's stone cage has crumbled,
Friends to dread and death of the dead,
Keys to Kazavon humbled."
"Can't say it rings a bell." Torsten said. "Perhaps it is about some kind of weapon? Something about a blade in a stone cage. But who be the four, and what is Lost Scarwall?"
”Well, back to the city then? Sounds to me that whatever else is out there can wait, but we’ve got a chance to kick the assassins in the gibblies. It’s a long walk, so we should get going.”
”Oh. I see. Wonderful.” Torsten said, dryly. It made sense, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He just hoped that the horses were well trained enough to see him threw the ordeal.