Toki quickly wraps Gaius rope around his waist and dives into the surging river to help the drowning man!
Beordt was moving toward the oar but when Toki jumps in he moves to the rope and braces himself for the signal to pull.
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"Fasten, FASTEN!" Gauis states emphatically at his magical rope of climbing...and many other things, commanding it to wrap firmly around the brave and heart-strong bard.
He keeps his mental control over his suit, forcing the two gauntlets to stay secure. One is gripped to the the ship and the other is in a death-clench around the rope. The power drain on both is so great that he is bathed in an eerie blue light never seen by any natural source.
Dacknar keeps the boat as close to the struggling man as he can while also avoiding debris,swirling eddies and the other dangers churning within the raging river. Seeing Dacknar can't get any closer, Toki dives after the man even as his head slips beneath the surface. But the bard aimed his dive well, and with only a few sweeps of his strong arms he is able to spot the drowning refugee even in the murky waters. In one grab, Toki loops an arm around the man's chest and kicks toward the surface.
Back on the boat, both Beordt and Gauis feel the sudden tug of added weight on the rope and now two men struggle against the current. Bearkin muscles bulge and strain along side the sparking, humming strength of Gaius' arcane enhanced gauntlets.
Slowly, slowly, the two are able to begin reeling the two back toward the boat even as they break the surface again. Toki takes in a massive gasp of air, while the refugee coughs and splutters, but is clearly still alive.
Beordt lets out a laugh over the storm, "Stay dry." He moves to the oar that Dacknar had earlier suggested nodding to the elf. Ready to help.
The entire pull up to the deck, Toki is laughing in the storm, Ha ha, hear that Tor? I laugh at your four winds! I will win a seat at the table yet!
”Impressive.” Rilkus intoned, though he kept his focus on ensuring that he stayed out of the water.
After a few more tense moments, Toki and the dark skinned half-elf from Shibai are back on board.
For the next three days the rain continues to fall, at times in great torrents that threaten to simply sink the boat with the extra weight of your sodden clothing and gear. Occasionally, one of you spot the a white skinned corpse drifting past on the current. Dry land becomes a completely foreign concept as the river seems to spread for miles in every direction. Maintaining your course in the main channel becomes more and more difficult and there are several moments where the lookout spies a nasty tangle of submerged brush or short trees that could easily rip the underside of your boat apart. But Dacknar and Toki proves themselves a skilled team and each danger is avoided even if by the narrowest of margins.
Each time you look back to the west, lighting flashes and thunder continue to rumble across the great distance. All among the refugees consider themselves lucky not to be caught within such a conflagration. Finally, at the end of that third day the distance battle seems to wain. Who was victorious, you cannot know.
Still the rain falls. Whatever usual weather patterns typically exist have clearly been disrupted by the powerful magics wielded by the sorceress and whatever foe she battled. Gauis is certain the weather will abate eventually and indeed the rain hasn't dumped in torrential flows for several hours.
Finally, Gauis' keen eyes are the first to spot the flicker of a light upon to the east and south. Dacknar picks it out shortly after. Turgon quickly recognizes it as the light of his uncle's inn. Setting course for the refuge, nobody balks at taking the oars with the hope of a warm fire and and hot meal waiting.
This time there is no need to beach the boat on the shore. There is no shore. Standing atop the tall pillars, the inn is an island in a vast churning bay where sea and river battle for supremacy. Fortunately the contours of the drowned beach do keep the largest of the big rollers tumbling further out at sea from crashing into the inn.
Another welcome sight are the trio of ships anchored well out to sea, but within sight of the shore. Once within the inn, you discover they were forced to anchor here having suffered some serious damage during the height of the storm. Some members of the crew including the leader of the merchant convoy are staying at the inn and willing to offer passage to port further north once repairs have been completed and the weather is more favorable.
The minotaur's great each other warmly and the old man rewards each of you with assorted coins and gemstones equal to a hundred gold crowns each.
"It may not seem enough." The old minotaur says. "But it is all I have to say thank you for your courage and fortitude in bringing my family back safe from the clutches of the Ghosts."
Beordt lets out a happy bear roar. "Tis a good sight."
Beordt nods to the old minotaur. "We are glad to bring them back to you."
As the boat is secured Beordt readies to head to the inn. He stops when his feet hit solid ground reveling in knowing its solid and enjoying that strange sensation of the world still rocking with the boat as his brain adjusts to the change. He smiles at the others and heads for the door of the inn.
If the gearforged could have smiled, he would have. It was done internally, as he stood in the rear, unmoving and silent. It felt good to have done such good. The world was not a fair place, and it was not always possible to act within such clear confines of right and wrong. When such opportunities presented themselves, it was worth savoring it.
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"And if a fire and a meal can supplement thy thanks, then I shall consider it a fair trade!" Gauis jovially states, glad to have delivered almost all of the refugees, and to at last be out of that swirling deluge. He worried they'd stop believing him about everything just because he was certain that it couldn't rain -all- of the time, despite nature's best efforts.
At last finding a meal and a favorable glass of wine, Gauis went to seek out the leader of the merchant convoy that was so generously offering passage. Using the invaluable rope as a demonstration, he states that he has some knowledge of how to conduct repairs of veritably _every_ nature, and of course he is willing to contribute his talents to the repair effort...to offset their fee for passage, of course.
Toki smiles and feels the weight of the sack of gold, Now to find us a city to spend this in, eh? Haha, let us celebrate!
After a week the waters finally recede, the skies clear and the sun shines bright and hot. The merchant convoy is able to complete its repairs in a quicker than expected fashion with the aide of Gauis and any others who decide to trade a little work for passage. And before anyone realizes, it is time to set sail once again. As you take to the longboats, you all spot an surprising sight. A group of frogkin paddle by the inn on a long, flat bottomed skiff. Armed with their usual spears and short bows, all of the frogkin wear totems similar to those you all saw beneath the old ruin on the coast. The symbol of Schaphrigroadaz. The pilgrim's chanting can be heard as they pass by on their way upriver. To those with a bit of the sight for such things, an aura of holy power surrounds several of the pilgrims and even the skiff itself. Whatever happened upriver, it seems the frog god, or at least the powers of its followers, survived.
With the pilgrims heading upriver, those who wish find themselves heading out to sea toward the three big merchant cogs. With clear skies and friendly winds all are soon underway heading north toward the exotic ports and cities Sar Shaba, Shibai, Mhalmet, and Ishadia. There the dangers of the jungle are replaced with the thrills and dangers of civilization in all its many forms and glories.
But alas those tales of daring, courage, defeat and triumph are to be written and shared around another fire. Perhaps told by a wandering bard or old adventurer to entertain those huddled in the dark of winter. A simple trade to pass the time and banish fears of ghosts and demons and foul villains and give hope for a coming dawn in return for a warm bed, pint of ale, and a stout length of rope.