After a time for rest and recovery, all appear to be much more able and ready to set off on the days long journey back down river. The initial hour or two is fraught as adjustments are made to the distribution of weight, especially Rilkus and Beordt whose every subtle shift threatens to capsize the craft until Targon is able to shift the refugees and others around well enough that barring a big storm all should be well.
Unfortunately the clouds in the east continue to build until the tops stretch into what can only be the very heights of the heavens. Despite the storm looming down river, the air inland has grown hot, humid, and stagnant with only the slimmest breeze ruffling the sails every once in a while. This reduces the boat's speed to that of the current which is somewhat slow and plodding along this stretch of lowlands. Useful for when you were traveling upstream, not as much when hurrying downstream.
Eventually the minotaur suggests a halt and slowly directs the craft toward a small patch of sandy shore almost immediately beset by the tall thick trees and undergrowth of the jungle.
By the time you finally reach shore, the a bloody sun is sinking toward the western horizon. It's rays gleaming against the nearly black underbelly of the looming clouds that crawl up the river valley. Thunder rumbles and the occasional jagged, forking, lance of lightning crackles downward in fits of electrical rage. The wind begins to pick up speed even as you all help pull the boat ashore and hurry to create some makeshift shelter.
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"Lean-tos! Lean-tos all around!" Gauis yells, as if the words alone can stave off the loaming thunderhead.
He points to a tall tree, a great round thing, the biggest in the area, and thus marks it as the base.
Then he uses his suit's enhanced strength to push over a few other trees of medium size, and drag a few others, of the same size, toward the base.
These he stands up against the base tree, using natural vines and the occasional Mending where needed.
In time the primitive lean-to take on more that appearance of a tee-pee, with the base tree almost surrounded by leaning trees like some kind of giant ent's skirt.
"That should at least stave off the worst of it for us. And the angle'd arrangement will even allow a fire.
Of course I'm sure the forest will throw some kind of flying lean-to eating beast at us, but one does what they can."
I will keep the others safe, Toki tells his party, Knock on the door, if things go bad.
Beordt nods at Toki's suggestion. He helps build Gauis' lean-tos.
Gauis calls for everyone to bend their backs in creating some quick shelters as Toki begins the ritual conjuring of his snug hut for himself and the refugees. The first massive drops of rain begin pelting each of you as you hack and chop and tie down what you can, where you can in order to provide yourselves with some kind of shelter. Within minutes each of you are soaked by the splattering wind driven rain. The jungle trees rattle and whip in the growing wind and there is no doubt this is another storm similar to the one that took the Rose and landed most of you upon these shores to begin with.
Looking to the east the sky is now little more than a great dark gray haze. Sheets of rain rush toward you driven by winds and riding beneath the angry clouds filled with thunder and lightning.
Inside Toki's shelter the refugees huddle together and the walls of the tent ripple and lean with each gust of wind. The pounding of the rain upon the thick cloth is deafening forcing anyone to shout in order to be heard above the cacophony.
Outside it is as if the elemental planes of air and water wage war directly overhead. The snap of tree limbs and thinner trunks crack like catapults and cannon on the field of battle. Rain pummels while winds rips away. Soon streams of fast moving water race everywhere from the jungle and into the river.
Dacknar is the first to shout the warning as he points out into the river. A water spout churns up the river. It's howling form dancing and twisting atop the wind driven white caps. Remnants of trees, boards, and other seemingly man made objects and even perhaps men or other beasts of the wild swirl about within the furious funnel of water and air. Hailstones begin to crash down upon the shore and jungle. Some stones as big as a Golden Imperial coin.
Just beyond the water spout, hovering a few hundred feet above the water is a figure of human size. Still over a hundred yards away, it is impossible to make out any details through the rain. All except the blue green glow of an arcane field surrounding the figure as it makes its way up river.
Toki takes a deep breath that turns into a yawn and walks toward the door, opening it and looking out at the river.
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As the lean-to-teepee becomes the target of the torrential deluge, Gauis performs the last step to see to its security. He goes around pushing large amounts of mud against the base, making a wall of sorts around the structure so water does not too easily make its way through the floor. This also makes a sort of moat that helps channel away a goodly amount of water. Well, at least it won't wash away botton-up,' he thinks.
Then, as he watches the water-funnel take shape and a glowing being of power emerge, he just nods to himself. "Yeah, I thought something like that might happen."
He braves the swirling whirlwind to knock on the door of Loki's Spa and Hut. Poking his head in he says, "Um, hey, there's a powerful flying sorcerer headed our way. Someone that's good at talking to people should talk to him. Unless you want Beordt to talk to him, could you field this, Toki?"
Dacknar scrambles to help Gauis to secure the lean-to.
Spotting the flying person an funnel cloud. "Hopefully they are just cleaning up the undead mess from the other river witch." he says jokingly.
Beordt yells over the torrent, "Tie yourself down to that big tree." he turns and knocks on the hut, "Toki get out here. Maybe ye can talk this weather warlock into not washing us away."
The figure continues to advance up river. As the distance closes the rain, wind and hail grow more and more intense and threatening to those hunkered down in the makeshift leanto's. Growing in size, the hailstones begin to crash through the jungle canopy with alarming ferocity and power forcing everyone to duck for any kind of cover they can find or face multiple bruises or worse.
EDIT:
Beordt puts a hand up to see the sorceress but it blocks his view of the hail stone that strikes him on the crown just behind his ear. He lets our a short pained bear noise.
Toki throws open the door, rain battering his face and chest, Storm Lord, keeper of the tempest's fury! Listen to your herald and let me tell your tale!
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The Artificer was all but useless as far as the new StormWitch was concerned. Seeing that Toki seemed to have the situation well in hand, for whatever hand was needed in this case, he sheltered by the leanto, making patches and repairs as best he could, his plan still mostly solid and sheltering him from the worst, so the damage was no more than his defensive field could keep up with.
Keeping his silent vigil, Rilkus was fortunate to have stood under enough foliage and provide some natural shelter. What hail came through was not enough to seriously damage his steel frame, for the moment, at least. He glumly thought that in this abysmal place even the weather wanted to kill them.
Spending so any years on board ships. He has spent many a days on a deck during storms. He feels right it home with this storm, all that is needed is the smell of sea salt. He cups a hand over is eyes to keep a sharp look out.
He calls out to the river witch. "Ahoy, yer making my bearkin friend start to smell of wet dog. Can you ease your storm please!"
The hailstones continue to pummel the entire area. Dacknar shouted call is pulled up into the vortex where from this even closer vantage point you spot the whipping white shapes of multiple trollkin bodies swirling within the vortex. Despite the howling of the wind and pounding rain and hail, the pirates shout does seem to grab the attention of the tiefling riding the waterspout as if it were little more than a gentle mare strolling along a highland meadow.
After a few more moments the twisting spout starts to slowly diminish and the storm takes on more normal proportions as the hail subsides and the rain shifts from a drowning deluge to a more manageable soaking downpour.
The sorceress causally drifts over toward your little camp, a wry smirk crossing her lips. Although her long hair flows in the wind, not a single strand or stitch of clothing seems even slightly dampened by the storm. Still floating fifteen feet above the ground, her dark eyes gaze upon your waterlogged forms.
"You! I should have known it was you." She says, her voice clear and easily heard above the diminishing storm. "I aught to drown the lot of you for all the trouble you've caused. But my orders are clear."
She glances upriver. "The balance of power shifts. Old gods crawl forth from long slumber. Old enemies rejoin old conflicts. My masters do not wish to allow such things. Bad for business. I warned them, you are bad for business. But always blinded by the short term are the Beys."
The words cease for a second as the woman seems suddenly lost in her own thoughts.
Toki looks at the sorceress, Do I know you? I don't usually forget a lady's face... Look, we wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the Kraken. Maybe we can do a quest for you, if you let us get these poor folk home...
"Hrmmpff." The redheaded tiefling snorts her brow frowning in consternation and more than a bit of wounded vanity at the bard's remark. "And so many men have called me unforgettable." She adds as the wind continues to whip the stinging sheets of rain in every which direction.
Her frown is replaced with a sly, sensual grin. She runs her hands along a quite shapely and comely figure, letting the wind billow the flowing silks in most intriguing ways. "I've had kings and princes dedicate sonnets and marvelous statues to my comforting prowess. Seers and sorcerers have sacrificed many a slave for a single evening of conversational pleasure."
"You forget so soon the slaying of Verrack and the freeing of your little croaking friends? Words shared above a shining sea and revolutionary blood spilt upon the ground? I believe when last our eyes met, yonder bearkin friend was attempting to skewer me with one of those pointy sticks he so likes to toss about."
She waves a hand as if tossing away a spent bottle of fine wine. "Alas, I've other duties to attend. Else I might be forced to more permanently impress upon your memory our time spent together."
Pulling back into the sky and over the river, the tiefling gestures with a simple swirling motion and the spout begins to spin up once again. "I shouldn't tarry long upon the shore." She says beginning to laugh with wild abandon. "I expect there will be little dry land for your paltry boots to stand upon in a few short hours. After all, it takes an awful amount of water to drown a god. Ahhhahahha!"
Beordt makes a puzzled twist to his face and points to his own chest as if to say, "Who me?"
The more the woman talks the more lost the bearkin looks. He mumbles, "Drown a god?" He speaks louder,
Rilkus used his divine sense, the area where eyes would be emitting a soft glow as he did so.
The presence of strong evil registers on your Senses like a noxious odor, and powerful good rings like heavenly music in your ears. As an action, you can open your awareness to detect such forces. Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any Celestial, fiend, or Undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identity (the Vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich, for instance). Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated, as with the Hallow spell.
Talk of drowning a God made him wonder if this tiefling was more than met the eye.
Tor's bearded crotch! Toki curses and turns to the refugees, To the boat, everyone!
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What more, even for a sorceress of obvious ability her aura burns bright. There is something else burning within her and it is this that you recognize as divinity of a sort.
More gears whir and click. Your mind sparks with thought and recollections of your initial training back in Rava's temple. You recall your instructor speaking about the lands of the south and how these wild lands were once ruled by an empire of titans and demigods. When the empire fell 'sparks' of divinity were scattered across the land with each fallen titan. Some to be discovered and taken up by mortals, others to disappear for all time or lay hidden in the depths and wilds of this vast land.
You cannot be certain, but your analysis of the spectrum and power running through the weather sorceress leads you to believe that she carries such a divine spark within her being at that is what allows her to wield such power and speak of drowning gods.
”Rava’s golden gears…” Rilkus intoned. His arms fell to his side as he stared in wonder. ”The witch carries the divine spark of a fallen titan.” Speaking more to himself than anyone else he finished by saying ”Even fleeing would be in vain.”
We stand a better chance of surviving in the boat. I do not relish being washed away, Toki holds the door open and urges the refugees to make their way to the boat, going last knowing that his hut will disappear as soon as he leaves.
In shock Dacknar mumbles out "The witch." And then he hustles to help with the boat.
The sorceress flies up river. Rain continues to fall although not in the hail filled, flash flood, quantities as a few short minutes earlier. Despite this easing of the deluge, each of you can easily notice the water level along the shore has already increased a couple of inches since you first started making camp. And the tiefling's words echo loudly in your minds. As unpleasant as drifting down river through the storm on the small boat sounds, it still sounds better than drowning within the confines of the rapidly flooding jungle.
So camp is quickly packed away and soon enough the entire water logged party of heroes and refugees are aboard and quickly drifting downstream. Mostly at the mercy of the currents, Dacknar does his best to keep the little craft near the center of the debris filled river. But after series of near misses with massive floating, gnarl rooted trees you find yourselves rounding a bend in near the northern shore.
Too late to avoid, the lookout spots a long sweeper tree hanging well out over the river. The branches jerking and dragging in the rapid flow. Fortunately, with no hope of using the sails in the storm you've kept the mast stowed, else disaster would have surely struck. As it is, everyone aboard is forced to dive for the deck as Dacknar does his best to pilot the craft through an opening in the thick mass of foliage.
Beordt does his best to keep himself in the boat and to balance things with himself and Rilkus.
With a great *SPLASH* the gearforged was knocked off the boat. While he could not drown, as such, given his great weight it wasn’t exactly the most ideal situation to be in.
Rilkus! Toki rushes to the anchor and tosses it where Rilkus fell in!
Just like the stormy seas with the mask swinging loosely, Dacknar almost has a six sense of when to duck and when to just lean back. He keep he eye on the water, judging where the swells are and how to use them.
Seeing the gear forge fall into the water, he tries to keep the boat near the metal man. "Man overboard!" he calls out.
Never taking his hands off the tiller, Dacknar bobs and weaves away from the low hanging branches as he guides the boat carefully through the narrow opening as Toki shouts several quick course corrections. Nearly everyone manages to hit the deck in time, but then there is a loud *clang* as a heavy limb catches Rilkus in the side. The blow knocks the heavy gearforged back and he's unable to regain his balance before hitting the water. His impact raises a spout of water that soaks several already saturated companions.
The loss of nearly three hundred pounds of weight from the small craft causes immediate and unfortunate consequences. The port side of the craft suddenly shoots up in a great lurch. Beordt does his best to leap back toward the center of the boat but cannot prevent a pair of the refugees from also tumbling overboard. Their startled shouts are quickly cut off by two more loud splashes as they hit the water.
Dacknar shouts and does his best to hold the boat steady although with no sails and no oars he much at the mercy of the current. That is until Toki tosses the anchor and Gauis' rope flies out toward the gearforged as well. The artificer's aim is true and the weighted rope lands within easy reach of where Rilkus stands twenty feet below on the bottom of the river. As soon as the paladin of Rava grab the rope the ship comes to an abrupt stop, dancing at the end of the line in the current.
Beordt a coil rope throws a line out in the direction of the fallen refugees.
Dacknar tries to keep the boat steady for the rescue efforts.
"Get them back onboard! The current will take them just as any river monster would. And the rest of ye, lash on to something. This ride is not over yet."
And he keeps a weathered eye out for other dangers.
Between the well-aimed rope and the anchor being dropped, Rilkus began the process of coming back onboard. Just as certainly as he had fallen did he begin to rise, moving with untiring efficiency. He intoned "Many thanks as he pulled himself up.
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"Unfasten," Gauis murmmurs to the rope, allowing it to uncoil from Rilkus as the big warforged is again out of the water's greedy embrace.
"You are quite welcome, sir!" he states back before rotating to where the refugees have fallen in.
He notices where Beordt is tossing his rope, and then follows suit to the other unfortunate that might be farther from the aforementioned rope.
"Fasten!" he yells at the rope as it heads outward. With luck, the rope itself might be able to fish in the refugee, even if their own flagging strength fails them.
He mentally directs more power to his gauntlet, fixing himself solidly to the ship, as the his armor had always been a part of it. It would do not good to attempt a rescue only to become in need of a rescue himself.
Beordt's rope lands several feet from the first refugee. The man makes a desperate, flailing grab for the safety line but the current grabs him before he can reach it. His screams echo just above the roaring storm as he quickly drifts downriver outpacing the boat that is still locked in place by the anchor and Rilkus.
Grabbing a second rope Gauis practically lassos the second struggling refugee. The sinking elf-marked just manages to snag the line and pulls herself aboard just moments after Rilkus emerges over the opposite side. With some quick direction from Dacknar, and movement by the other passengers, the paladin is able to reboard in one great heave that barely causes the boat to tip.
From his upright vantage at the tiller, Dacknar can still see the bobbing head of the first man. It would be a challenge to get back into range for another rope toss attempt. But with two folk on oars, the quick cutting of the anchor rope, and no lollygagging, the former pirate thinks it can be done.
"We still have one in the drink. Cut the anchor, Strong men on the oars! By Nethus, we might only have one try at this."
And Dacknar uses the boat like a shark after a minnow. To try and save that poor mans life.
Dacknar's skilled handling of the boat and some quick, hard work on the oars by Turgon and a couple of the other refugees put the swimmer back in range of a cast line. His head still bobs above the water, but it's clear by the flailing arms and sputtering cries that there's little time to waste.