... Stand By ...
I also don’t have the spells and feats committed to memory. Any help you can give me in terms of putting in a link to the spell you are casting, citing the important things I need to know, and keeping your character sheet easy-to-read with *gasp* linked references would be greatly appreciated.
I have an open door policy about my DMing, the campaign, and everything else. So, feel free to critique my performance at any time, offer suggestions, or let me know what your character would die to have.
I reward honesty especially if it is to your character’s detriment. If your character should have taken more damage than I applied, and you let me know that - your honesty will be appreciated.
Good RP and commonsense trump rolls for interpersonal skills. Your Diplomacy +10 tacked on to a lame argument will draw a serious circumstantial penalty. Conversely, a weak Diplo +2 can be heavily strengthened by a compelling argument. In short, don't rely on your rolls alone to make your case.
For my stints as DM, it is an open world and you are free to roam around - but there are no training wheels. There are challenges and areas that will be well beyond your ability to handle early in the game. I will give warnings about these areas if I think you are walking into a TPK but ultimately the decision is yours.
CHAPTER 1: Strange Beginnings
Who can say what strange factors conspire to bring disparate people together? Perhaps it is just a series of coincidences… or the will of fickle Gods. But on another world spinning around a distant sun, a philosopher once accurately (I would argue) opined, ” Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along.”
Be that as it may, Fate’s opening gambit – a meeting of strangers – occurred in a small corner of a small world named Golarion.
Along the coastline of the aptly named Inner Sea… on the border of Taldor and Andoran…
Strangers would meet and begin a journey none of them could have foreseen, one that would make them legends.
Somewhere between Taldor and Andoran…
Winter had begrudgingly given up its grip on the land. Spring was starting to fulfill its promise with warming days, occasionally crisp breezes, and green buds just beginning to dapple the bare branches.
On the Trail…
A small caravan composed of several merchants, a few pilgrims, and the odd traveler either running from or to something… wound through the low hills and modest stands of trees as it had for the last three weeks. The only event of note had been the number of refugees they had encountered, rescued, and taken into the caravan. Many of them it seemed had fled remote villages suffering a plague. The caravan mistress was a Varisian who followed her people’s traditions related to the hospitality of the road. And since most of the refugees were children, she couldn’t refuse them even if she were of a mind to.
One of the travelers (and the self-appointed caravan head cook), an ancient halfling woman, took all of the caravan’s children under her wing, keeping them fed, amused, and out of the way of the wagoners. Unfortunately, the travel was slow going and they were nearly five days away from their next scheduled village stop. Normally, this wouldn’t have presented a problem. But with all the extra mouths to feed, the caravan mistress estimated and fretted that they wouldn’t have enough food to last until the next stop. Meeting with the wagoners, the options were debated – specifically rationing, foraging, or stopping to hunt in areas that might have game.
It was at this point that yet another refugee - or perhaps wanderer is a more accurate term - stumbled upon the caravan. He was a large half-orc whose appearance initially caused a stir among the children. The children were quickly quieted by the venerable halfling cook.
As the debate continued and the newcomer considered his own path, another option presented itself… a bell tolled the noon hour. Looking around the wagoners spied the very top of a bell tower peeking over a not-too-distant hill. Consulting their maps, the caravanners were puzzled none of the documents showed a village in this area, or even a trail that might lead that way. Nevertheless, a village large enough to afford a bell tower should be able to provide supplies. After referencing the maps and scouting the terrain a bit more, it seemed possible that the best approach to the village was along the beach. With the decision made, the caravan turned and set a course downhill towards the sea, less than a long bowshot away. They could even see boats plying the waterway…
On the Water…
Calling it a ‘ship’ would be generous. The Joyful Fishwife was a 20’ long, shallow-hulled, open-decked, fishing boat retrofitted to carry a handful of passenger and cargo. She was a seaworthy craft… but ill-suited to the troughs and large waves of the open ocean. On the other hand, she was perfect for avoiding the rocks, snags, and sandbars that were prolific just offshore. The captain knew his boat well and kept the ’wife hugging the coastline as they navigated between villages and small ports, leaving the larger, deep-water ports to the galleys and frigates.
On this particular trip, the ’wife had only cargo and four passengers, well, two passengers and two curious cases. The passengers were a newly married couple looking forward to starting their new life together and talking about it constantly… The other two were less free with the details of their lives.
The curious cases had come aboard a week ago - mid-journey no less - transferred by dinghy from a large galley. The fisher captain understood why the tall Tien woman came aboard… as soon as he spotted the fresh black eye and bleeding lip. Crew problems happened, and the galley captain made it clear that the Tien woman had left sore feelings and several sets of sore b@ll@cks in her wake. But she was competent crew… and the ’wife was short-handed. So, the deal was struck. The Tien would work for her passage.
The Taldan woman of means was a real puzzle to the captain. The galley crew were deferential to her but wouldn’t explain why she was leaving their ship. But maybe, the fisher captain thought, it had something to do with how the galley captain acted more like her nurse maid or jailor. In any case, the fisher captain shrugged and added her to his manifest. Money was money.
Throughout the voyage, neither of the curious cases was a problem. The Tien was a fine deckhand and the Taldan lady spent much of her time writing in a thick journal.
A bell tolling the noon hour rang out across the water, drawing the attention of the passengers and crew. Had it not been for the bell, they probably wouldn’t have noticed the village tucked discretely into the ring of hills or spotted the small dock that peeked out from a cleft in the steep banks just off the strand.
On the Trail...
Standing a top a small hill, Yashnarz watched the approaching caravan. The wind rustled the small bones tied in haphazard fashion about his body and seemed to carry with it a quiet voice. He could not hear the words clearly, but to him the intent was obvious. Grandfather had lead him this far, and it was no chance meeting. Whatever fate the caravan was destined for, Yashnarz was to share it's future.
Hunched down to somewhat obscure his true size, Yash approached the caravan, his empty hands held out to his sides, palms up. As he neared the caravan, he called out "Hello" in thickly accented Taldane, his orcish heritage evident even in his voice. He even tried to smile, not appreciating the effect his large tusks or stained teeth might have on the travelers.
As he neared closer to the caravan, he finally stopped a short distance away as he could hear the commotion his arrival appeared to cause. He dipped his head towards the nearest traveler, and with a large, meaty hand, smacked his chest three times in succession. "Yash" he said, hoping they would understand. "No fight."
Covered in numerous scars, tattoos, and piercings, Yashnarz is an imposing figure. Bone weaponry and piercings, armor made from bones and animal horns, and clothes made from animal furs gives him a distinct and primitive appearance.
Many hands unconsciously touch weapons briefly at the imposing figure of the half-orc... but there was a reason the caravan mistress was in charge and had been for years.
After raising an eyebrow at the half-orc's greeting - not a weapon hand - she glares at the wagon drivers and says something sharp in Varisian. Immediately, the drivers move their hands far from their weapons.
The caravan mistress hops down from the wagon and approaches Yash, palms out and an easy smile on her face. "Hi, Yash. I'm Ella. No fight is good." She nods to emphasize 'good'. She then points to the hill concealing the bell tower. "We go there, to village." She points in other directions and asks, "Where Yash go?"
Standing near the aft of the small vessel, the tall young Minatan woman pauses in the middle of coiling the thick rope she’d been checking for weather damage. It wasn’t really sailor’s work, but then, she wasn’t really a sailor. She hangs the heavy coils over one muscled shoulder, shaking and flexing her aching, crooked right hand as she squints towards the bells onshore.
Despite the early spring breeze cutting across the waters, she wears a loose, sleeveless shirt, faded brown pants, and stands barefoot. Tian-style tattoos range across the suntanned skin of her neck, back, shoulders and arms, competing with an equal number of scars both new and old.
The breeze pulls at her odd mish-mash of clothes, then flips a long, loose lock of black hair into her face. With a slight frown, she pushes the hair back again, tucking it into the pale blue scarf around her head … revealing a few healing bruises and a piercing set of golden brown eyes gazing from an otherwise unremarkable face.
After a moment, she cocks her head slightly, rolling her eyes skyward to check the position of the sun. Then she lets her gaze wander over the ship’s other inhabitants briefly before finishing her work. The long, heavy rope is returned to the chest, where she makes sure the rods, nets, and other nonessential tools are stowed. Finally, everything looking in place, she closes the chest, refastening the clasp.
Then the tall, young woman stalks the length of the deck, trying her best to account for the roll and sway of the ’wife. She steps wide of the married couple and gives the Taldan woman a neutral nod. She stops to crouch next to the captain.
”Nets and lines are solid, clean, and stowed,” she says in a quiet, low voice as she dabs at the split in her lip that’s been slow to heal.
She reaches over to where her gear rested out of the way, picking up and shrugging her arms into a light, waist-length coat. Then she nods in the direction of the village, ”This one of the stops?”
It's noonish and the sun's out. Time for olive oil.
Sabelina removes her wide brimmed hat and takes out a flask. Popping the cork, she pours small amounts of olive oil into her hand and rubs it carefully on her arms and face. Diligently massaging it until all that's left on the surface of her skin is its sheen.
The hell I'm going to sit here and shrivel up like some old hag.
The young woman is in an off mood, talking far less than usual as she sulks, so much so that she's only the third most talkative person aboard, after the newlywed couple.
Things are not going to plan. Yes, Sabelina did need to get off the galley. The captain, probably uneasy about keeping his job for some reason, had been constantly hoovering and smothering her. So, she had to engineer an event. She had stolen his nicest pair of boots, and made it plain she had by wearing them around. When he complained and asked for their return, she had smacked him hard across the face as if she were deeply insulted. It had been enough to convince him not to resist when she demanded transfer to another ship. However she had been expecting a different galley, not the chamber pot of a skiff she currently occupies. But pride and all... There was no backing down.
As she applies the oil, Sabelina alternates from watching the coastline and the deeper sea, where she hopes she might see some interesting oceanic creatures. It's the best means she can come up with for assuaging her boredom and distracting her from the insipid couple at the same time.
The captain (Joas - as he encourages you to call him) shades his eyes with a salt-crusted hand, squinting at the village, and chews on Xing's question longer than is expected. "No, it ain't one of our stops, an' it ain't on my map... Never seen it before and I've been sailing this coast for some years now." It's clear the captain isn't quite comfortable with those facts.
Sabelina cocks an eyebrow in interest.
"A perfect reason to stop and look then! Maybe it's a hamlet under an enchantment, only appearing for a day every hundred years!"
From her spot on the deck, Sabelina notes a few things...
Inland there is a small group of wagons circled up.
Along the shore, the tide is clearly ebbing as she can see a ribbon of rocky strand and beach going all the way to the inlet that leads to the village. Judging from the high tide mark, anyone moving along that causeway would be swimming at the wrong time of day.
On the boat, the captain is having a quiet conversation with the deckhand from the galley.
Towards the sea, Sabelina notes an area of turbulence in the water a few hundred yards away. It could be waves roiling over one of the many sandbars and rock formations near the surface that her father curses frequently, or possibly a school of fish - either chasing food or being chased. For the moment, nothing breaks the surface of the water to give her any clue as to what might be causing the disruption.
Sabelina cocks an eyebrow in interest.
"A perfect reason to stop and look then! Maybe it's a hamlet under an enchantment, only appearing for a day every hundred years!"
Captain Joas raises a staying (or perhaps a fending off) hand at Sabelina's words. That one's trouble when she gets a full wind in her sails...
"Now, hold on there, Miss... That's a fanciful notion but the simpler reason they're hard to find is cuz they wanna be hard to find. Wouldn't be the first group of smugglers along this coast to make themselves a village. Best we leave it be. Could be a rough crowd."
The Minatan woman sits back on her heels and frowns. The fisher-captain didn’t seem the sort to speak in riddles.
”How can this be? Do smugglers often have vanishing villages here?”
"A perfect reason to stop and look then! Maybe it's a hamlet under an enchantment, only appearing for a day every hundred years!"
Xing looks past the captain, one tattooed hand shading her face as she squints at the Taldan woman.
”As a child, I heard stories of jungle spirits who would make such tricks.” She shrugs, ”Though those who visited were often stolen or eaten.”
She looks down at Sabelina’s feet, then crooks a half-grin. ”You stole the other captain’s boots. Why?”
On the Trail...
Yash smiled again, impressed by his own skills at diplomacy, and relieved that their greeting had not become violent. He turned to look at this 'village' that the woman had mentioned, perplexed that he had not noticed it before, his head tilting somewhat to one side. He turned back to the woman as he spoke. "Yes, we go." Before the woman could argue the point, Yash turned and headed towards the mysterious village.
As he put a little distance between himself and the caravan, Yash began to speak in a hushed tone.
"Grandfather, is this why you have sent me here? This...village?"
Almost as if in response to his wondering aloud, the wind blew ever-so-slightly, the tiny bones hanging from him clinking in the breeze.
The Minatan girl sits back on her heels and frowns. The fisher-captain didn’t seem the sort to speak in riddles.
”How can this be? Do smugglers often have disappearing villages here?”
Joas nods agreeably at the Minatan woman's caution. "I wouldn't say they was disappearing villages. Not that I know. Smugglers just locate their hideout in someplace kinda hard to see if you ain't looking... hid by thick trees, or a river with some good twists and high bluffs. If the place works good as a base, maybe they bring girls there, then it's families. Two years on, ya got a proper village. That's just how a handful of towns 'long Andoran's coast began."
On the Trail...
Ella chases after the half-orc, "Woah. Woah. Woah. We..." She struggles to figure out the right words and gestures to explain, while inwardly cursing she never studied Orcish. "Wagons no good on BIG hills. We go... around." Ella points toward the beach and then 'walks' her fingers along the coastline. "We go that way. Good for wagons. Good for animals. OK? You come?"
"I've read about such places." Sabelina sniffs. "Just because it doesn't happen everywhere all the time doesn't mean it never happens."
Then Sabelina gets down to brass tacks.
"If it is smugglers though, and you don't know about it, I assume you aren't a smuggler. And if you aren't a smuggler, they are a danger to you. The best way to deal with a known and present danger is to swat it before it can threaten one."
Sabelina then smiles knowingly.
"There might even be a handsome amount of valuable cargo there as a reward for such a valiant public service, eh?"
Then she turns and points out over the water.
"Besides there's a disturbance out there, just under the surface. It could be more dangerous than anything on land. Best make for the shore just in case."
As for the boots, Sabelina explains her thinking to the Minatan woman in the way one explains the answer to a math problem, dispassionately as if there is only one solution.
"He was starting to bother me. Asking to be transferred to another ship would have been requesting a favor of him. I don't ask those who bother me for favors. I took the boots so he wouldn't transfer me off the ship as a favor."
On the Trail...
Yash halted mid-stride and turned to look at the woman. He nodded as she spoke, waiting until she had finished. He looked at her quizzically. "No scout?"
On the Trail...
Not a bad idea, really. But those folks may be jumpy about a half-orc snooping on them. Ella scratches her head, trying to figure out how to split the difference...
She yells to one of her drivers in Varisian. In short order, he's spoken to one of the travelers who seems to agree. The traveler, a spare looking man, heads past Ella and Yash towards the hills.
She explains, pointing at the man, then to Yash, then to herself. "He scouts. You, Yash, you come with me. You guard us. We tell village Yash no fight. Safer, yes? Come please."
Ella tries to coax the large half-orc back to the wagons which are already starting to form up and head down to the strand.
On the Water
Joas rubs his chin and watches the roiling water, then shoots a glance at Xing to see what she makes of all this before returning his attention to Sabelina.
With a hint of humor, he replies. ”Well, Miss, seems as if you’ve got us trapped between a sea-serpent and a village that is filled with either magical fey folks OR bloodthirsty smugglers in need of an ass-whupping. And my ass-whupping resources are me (long past my ass-whupping days), my first mate, and this gal right here… who ain’t even my crew proper and gots no reason to follow me into a corn maze let alone a town full of smugglers. Sounds to me like you are making an argument for what I already got planned… which is to throw as many yards of sail up as I can and fly right past this whole sitch'e'ashun.”
He raises his voice loud enough to carry to his first mate and Xing. ”Let’s get some more sail. If these folks wanna be left alone, I say we let them.”
On the Trail...
With a shrug and a "hmrph", Yash turned back towards the caravan, following behind the woman so as not to startle the rest of the travelers.
Grandfather, what have you gotten me into?" he wondered.
When Sabelina mentions the water disturbance, Xing turns to check it out.
Sabelina doesn't expect this Joas fellow can be shifted away from his decision, but she doesn't like not being mentioned among his tally of resources. She shifts slightly and taps her rapier with her fingernail.
"Oh, no no. I intended to lead the raid. I certainly would never ask you to do something I'm not willing to do myself."
The reaction to the newcomer from the children was as varied as their personalities. A few hid behind wagon wheels or horses. A couple stayed near Mama Cookie though they were nearly all taller than her miniscule 3'7". Little Jameson marched straight at the half orc like he was going to go pick a fight. One crisp Ahhht! from Mama Cookie arrested him in his tracks though. He may be several inches taller and many pounds heavier than her already, but all of the children knew better than to challenge Mama.
As for herself, Mama Cookie doesn't hide, but she doesn't approach either. Not yet. Maybe with the meal this evening she's get a chance to introduce herself.
Speaking of... Lady! she calls. A dark red fox with lighter patches on its snout, legs, and trail that look like fire bounds out of a nearby wagon. Yes, Mama! she chirps cheerily.
Be a dear and fetch us a couple rabbits or something. I don't want to try the quartermasters patience today with this new arrival.
The fox nods. Coming right up! she says, then runs into the underbrush.
Come along, children! she calls. Travel isn't quite over yet!
On the Water...
Xing watches the sea but sees nothing more than the turgid water. It is perhaps good news that the disturbance in the water seems to be staying in one place.
"Oh, no no. I intended to lead the raid. I certainly would never ask you to do something I'm not willing to do myself."
The captain smiles, "You've got enough nerve for two warriors, I grant you that... But that still leaves five of us against a whole village. Not good odds to my mind, but I'm no warrior. Still, I'd like those numbers better if'n you had a Archmage tucked into that bodice somewhere."
Joas and his crew quickly stretch every yard of sailcloth and the 'wife practically leaps forward trying to put the weird water and the village behind their rudder.
On the Trail...
Herding is the order of the day... as Ella ropes the reluctant half-orc into nurse-maiding the caravan and Mama Cookie herds the children when she isn't glowering at the troublemakers to keep them in line.
The caravan moves out and quickly rolls down the hill. The wagoners keep a sharp eye on the lip of the bluff, waiting to receive signals from their scout on what kind of reception they can expect from the village.
On the Water…
As the ’wife slides past the inlet under full sails, Joas eyes the town critically, looking for any sign of danger… signs which don’t appear. He lets out a long-held breath and thanks the gods that watch over sailors.
His prayer, however, is a shade too early as Fate had a different plan altogether. It was announced by a sharp crack of wood, followed by the Fishwife pitching sharply to the side which sent her passengers tumbling and skidding across the deck. Moments later a foaming spray of water sloshed across the deck near the prow of the boat.
On the Beach…
Having reached the rocky and sandy strand, the caravan mistress breathes a little easier as it looks like this is a viable way to get to the secluded village. There is a narrow strip of land between the steep hills and the water that should provide access. The wagons move in single file, picking their course carefully, avoiding the worst pockets of deep sand while attempting to move between areas of relatively flat and stable rocks. At times, the laborers and Yash walk alongside the wagons and lend their strength to keep things moving when the deep sands catch a wheel.
Twenty minutes of persistent labor sees the caravan reach the narrowest point of the crossing. Thankfully, they arrive when the tide is out or their wagons would practically be boats. Even at ebb tide, the smell of seaweed and dank surf is overwhelming. The breakers hit the rocks offshore with a roar. It appears a large chunk of rock has been broken loose by a wave as it comes hurtling up the shore. Then the ‘rock’ shows claws and its multiple legs churn the sand furiously as the massive crab (roughly the size of a pony) scuttles toward the wagons, adults, and children… intent on scavenging a meal.
Mama whistles and shouts, In the wagons, kids! Mama's going to fetch dinner! I knew I was keeping that butter for something! and she strides to where the caravan's defenders are already moving.
Holy Desna, hear your travelers and bring us dinner this day!
Sabelina reflexively snatches at a railing or the side of the boat to keep herself in it and out of the water.
Grunting, Yash hefted the wagon again and shoved it forward. This close to the water, the spray helped to cool him off, but it made the wagon slippery. Still, they didn't have too much trouble keeping the column moving forward. That's when he heard the cries of alarm being shouted. He glanced ahead to see what the commotion was when he saw the enormous crab scuttling towards them.
One hand reached for a small scrap of animal skin suspended by a leather throng tied to his lamellar while his other hand reached towards the sky. "Grandfather, protect me" he pleaded to the spirit before moving forward, past the children, the laborers, and the rest of the people. His hand released the holy text, letting it fall back against his armor as he cleared past those gathered about. He grabbed the large axe from his back as he stalked through the sand and interposed himself between the entourage and the crab.
There was no time for consideration or consequence. There was only survival.
Xing growls in frustration as her eyes slide across the other four people present, then the growl becomes a tiger’s furious roar. Starting from her face, thick white fur — decorated with stark black stripes — explodes from her skin, covering her body. Her face distorts, becoming more feline and predatory. Her hands and feet stretch into clawed paws, and a thick, furry tail explodes from behind her.
She lunges to the center of the boat, then drops into a low stance ... legs wide for balance, open claws held ready before her.
On the Beach…
As the threat emerges from the ocean, there is a moment of stunned silence… then everyone explodes into action. The laborers, tired from pushing wagons for the last half hour still scramble quickly to the wagons to grab weapons of any sort. One man wields a cured hog’s leg as an improvised club. They form a ragged battle line defending the wagons and passengers.
Yash, shielded by his grandfather’s spirit with axe in hand, strides forward and draws a metaphorical line in the sand for the massive crab.
The children in the wagons, even the troublemakers, shriek and hide as the great beast hesitates… then lunges at the half-orc! The crustacean whips a huge, sharp-edged, barnacle-encrusted claw like a scythe. Not even his grandfather’s protection stops the crustacean from opening a ragged, bloody seam across the Soul Keeper’s chest.
With the rambunctious children cowed by fright, Mama Cookie springs down from the wagon with surprising agility, already planning the evening’s menu… She calls upon Desna for her blessing and heartens nearly all of the caravaners with her plucky words and magic. Mama takes her stand just behind the towering half-orc.
A touch slower than the rest of the travelers, the caravan mistress and the wagoners jump down and press forward while drawing weapons to form an offensive line with the Soul Keeper.
Round 2 – Ding! Ding!
ORDER:
Laborers (defending the children)
Yash
Kids (cowering)
CRABMEAT
Cookie
Wagoners
CURRENT HP:
Mama 13/13
Yash 7/12
On the Water…
The folks on the ’wife might notice the fracas on the shoreline, if they weren’t busy with their own problems…
The boat heels over violently and water begins to fill the prow as the regular passengers get tossed like flotsam. In a high-pitched shriek, one of the newlyweds squeals, ”We’re SINKING!!!” Embarrassingly, it is the husband.
Xing, sensing danger, leaps amidships and transforms… adding to the general mayhem. Sabelina deftly catches the gunwhale even as the stern tips violently then pivots hard as the prow of the boat has been snagged and acts as the fulcrum on which the boat spins. She realizes, with some relief that despite the sea spray hitting her, she won’t need to apply more olive oil.
Joas only has a moment to be surprised by Xing’s transformation exclaiming, ”Torag’s hairy BALLS!” before his nautical mind takes over. He quickly drops the sail so the belly of the boat doesn’t get torn out on the reef or whatever snagged them while barking orders:
To the newlyweds, he growls, ”Get to the stern.. to the BACK of the boat! Holler if you’re hurt. Ignore that big cat. She ain’t gonna hurt you.”
His first mate doesn’t get that equitable tone. ”Jorah! Get your ass to the bow and find out what snagged us! Looks like the hull is leaking.”
Joas turns to the remaining member of his crew, flummoxed by what to say, ”Xing! You do… whatever you are doing. But we’ll likely need some pitch to seal any leaks.”
Jorah scrambles forward to assess the damage as the newlyweds flee aft, crowding into Sabelina’s preferred spot. The first mate looks over the bow on both sides then dunks his head into the expanding pool of water rapidly filling the starboard side of the prow for a long look. He comes up shaking the water from his hair. ”Da! Ain’t no reef or rocks! We got a big f@<king hole in the hull and there’s, uh, a big spiked arrow… a ballista bolt we’re hooked on. Must be tethered to something below.” The sailor’s eyes go wide as the implication of what he’s saying comes to him.
The boat dips to port as if a considerable weight was suddenly attached to the hull. Halfway between Xing and Jorah, on the port side of the boat, a figure quickly climbs aboard with the use of too many limbs…
Seawater sluices off the creature. It looks like a man…
Except for the feet which are splayed for swimming… And the red-brown lobster-like chitinous plates that armor the torso… And the two sets of massive claws above the withered pair of humanoid arms. And the head, which is all crab. So, not really like a man at all.
Xing was used to being one of the tallest people in any room, but this creature was a bit taller… another 3’ of tall. Standing at a shade over 9’, the monster snaps its prodigious claws and regards the crew with disconcertingly smart eyes.
Round 1!
ORDER:
Xing
Sabelina
Captain Joas
FM Jorah
Crabman
Passengers (doing sweet bugger all)
CURRENT HP:
Sabelina 13/13
Xing 11/11
When Sabelina sees Xing transform, she grins widely.
Now THAT is exciting!
While the ship is settling and the crew checks for damage, Sabelina remains concerned with keeping her balance and trying to understand what happened. But when the boat tips again and she sees something coming up and over the side, she uses the angled deck to release her grip and slide down to to catch ahold of the mast instead.
Her excitement mounts when she sees what it is, and she draws her weapon.
Jackpot! What a day!
The tiger watches the pandemonium commence, letting the captain and first mate handle the craft. She is about to move towards the chest containing the pitch when the many-legged … thing clambers aboard.
The pitch must wait.
She pounces forward, dodging low to avoid its claws. She twists, trying to get under its guard as she wraps her arms around its hard exterior, grabbing at its two upper-most arms to force them into an elbow lock.
The pain of the wound and blood running freely down his chest triggered an ancient wrath within Yash. His greataxe raised above his head, it shook with strength as his arms bulged with rage, his hands gripping the weapon with surging power. With a bloodcurdling roar, Yash brought the greataxe down, aiming to cleave the gigantic crab in half.
On the Beach…
Yash’s blow almost skitters harmlessly off the creature’s carapace. But, at the last moment, the axe catches on a particularly stubborn patch of barnacles that guide the weapon into the shell with all of the half-orc’s considerable fury. The crab’s legs nearly buckle under the blow and the creature burbles in pain. When the axe comes away, there is a sizable crack running the length of the shell and the crab wobbles a bit, disoriented. But it manages to rally…
Both claws snap at the half-orc. The first, attempting to shear off the axe-wielding arm, is cleanly deflected by the axe handle. Yash leaps over the second claw that seeks to remove the Soul Keeper’s leg at the knee.
Round 2
ORDER:
Laborers (defending the children)
Yash
Kids (cowering)
CRABMEAT
Cookie
Wagoners
CURRENT HP:
Mama 13/13
Yash 7/14 - rage
On the Water…
Xing feints to throw off the crabman’s expected attack then she leaps on the creature. Her claws find purchase in the creases of the creature’s chitinous armor. She has prey in her grasp!
Sabelina slides forward cautiously, sizing up their opponent…
Joas curses his ill luck briefly then pulls his trusty boarding-axe from the sea-chest and closes in on the behemoth engaged with the tiger lady. He shouts to his First Mate/son, ”Clear that damned bolt from our hull! We sink, we die!”
Jorah, a brawny lad, nods, draws a deep breath, and dives attempting to twist and push the bolt back through the hole it made…
Distracted by the tiger clinging to it, the crabman ignores the little man with the boarding axe as it tries to capture and crush the ferocious, fur-clad creature. And capturing prey was something it knew very well…
With two claws and two extra arms, the crabman quickly turns from prey to predator. It secures the tiger against its chest with too many grasping hands and then brings a vice-like, claw to bear on the air-breather’s ribcage, attempting to crush the life out of it.
The newlyweds wail in the back of the boat and mourn their impending tragic (but somewhat romantic) deaths.
Round 2!
ORDER:
Xing
Sabelina
Captain Joas
FM Jorah
Crabman!
Passengers (doing sweet bugger all)
CURRENT HP:
Sabelina 13/13
Xing 7/11
”KILL IT NOW!" Xing roars as her ribs creak, "IT’S TOO BIG!”
Fighting desperately, she locks one of her legs under one of the lobster-thing’s knees, pressing outwards to destabilize it. When its weight shifts, she tries to wrench herself back into dominant position.
Sabelina happens to be thinking exactly what the recent Minatan woman, now tiger, voices. She approaches to a low crouch, trying to stay out it the crabman's line of sight. When it's within striking distance, she uses her rapier's blade to search for a gap or seam in its shell.
"Un... unhand the cat your monstrous freak of nature! I have yet to give her ears a good scratching!"
That'll do in a pinch. Note to self: work on banter.
Mama Cookie strides up to the crab, longspear in hand. Standing just behind the half orc, her weapon, which is almost comically long compared to her height, darts out! It ensnares one of the claws of the crab, opening a hole in its defense!
On the Beach…
Seeing the Soul Keeper’s heroic attack and his savaging at the claws of the creature, and feeling slightly shamed by the little halfling granny stepping into the fight when they hesitate… it galvanizes the wagoners into action. They encircle the crab and attack, stabbing and bashing the creature! Most of their blows are deflected by the carapace or claws. One wagoner lands a glancing blow with his sword.
Then, perhaps Fate or dumb luck decides to have a go and graces the large but gentle wagoner wielding (poorly) the cured hog’s leg. Distracted as the crab was by all the other attackers, it never sees the hog leg coming until it lands with a deafening, crunchy thud along a fault line opened by Yash’s crushing blow. The carapace shatters like thick glass and the hog leg smashes straight through whatever passes for a brain in the ‘head’ of the crab. The creature falls dead at their feet.
A moment of stunned silence followed then a primal roar goes up from the caravaners. The large, gentle man raises the deadly hog leg like a holy sword, bellowing his triumph. Cries of “Hogleg!”, “Yash!”, and “Granny!” ring out across the water.
And for many years after, at many wagoner campfires, the large but gentle driver would be obliged to explain how he got ‘Hogleg’ as his nickname.
CURRENT HP:
Mama 13/13
Yash 7/12
On the Water…
Xing reestablishes her hold on the crabman, trying to make it an easier target for her allies. And her efforts don’t disappoint.
Sabelina slithers in like a serpent and deftly drives her blade deep into the monster’s thorax. The monster hisses its pained response.
Joas strikes with the boarding axe but it slides off the slick armor of the creature. He happens to glance toward the sea and stops short… the roiling water is moving now, straight towards the boat. He doesn’t know if his First Mate can hear him underwater so he yells, ”HURRY UP, BOY! I THINK THIS BASTERD HAS FRIENDS!”
|
Jorah continues to struggle with the ballista bolt.
Xing the tiger is all over the crabman, a constant distraction from its plans. By now, it assumed the decks would be awash in blood. Nevertheless, the crabman again tries to get the vexing cat under its own sizeable claws, this time with far more success. Its claw snaps closed on the tiger's neck, almost shattering a vertebrae.
Round 3!
ORDER:
Xing
Sabelina
Captain Joas
FM Jorah
Crabman!
Passengers (doing sweet bugger all)
CURRENT HP:
Sabelina 13/13
Xing 1/11
Xing’s vision narrows to nearly nothing. She struggles to wriggle free, but feels her strength draining in the creature’s tenacious grip.
This is it. Life or death.
She heaves her torso, curling her legs up in front of the thing’s face, then pistons her legs—WHAM WHAM—in a double heel kick.
Sabelina tries to repeat her success from before, but the amount of thrashing about makes it impossible.
Mama Cookie glances around to make sure everyone's alright. The new guy is definitely not. She locks eyes with the driver of her wagon, a young man named Simms that got the job not to long ago. My healer's kit, under the seat. Go!
She then approaches the warrior slowly. Hey there. That's a nasty hit you took for us. Let me see. I help.
The ferocious tiger struggles, sensing death closing in. She delivers a punishing first kick that snaps the creature’s head sideway. Staggering from the blow, the crabman nearly loses its grip on its opponent. Her second blows glances off the beast’s armored shoulder.
Sailor that he is, Joas finds his sea-legs in the chaotic battle and manages to sink his boarding axe into the heavy joint of the crabman’s shoulder, ”Die, crayfish!”
|
Running out of breath, Jorah makes one final effort to shove the bolt from the hull… and succeeds!
Jorah explodes from the water, dragging air into his lungs as the ’wife lurches free and races with the wind. . The motion is so sharp and sudden, people are thrown to the deck.
The Crab, laden with a couple hundred pound of angry feline falls and loses its grip on Xing. The tiger, with unnatural dexterity, lands on her feet, claws digging into the sloping deck - still in the fight. Sabelia slams against the gunwhale but also is on her feet. Joas, an old hand to the vagaries of the sea compensates for the shift without effort. And Jorah staggers to his feet after his swim and moves to the sails and rudder. Cries rise from the back of the ship where the newlyweds are rolling across the deck.
The Crabman scrambles to its feet heedlessly...
Round 4!
ORDER:
Xing
Sabelina
Captain Joas
FM Jorah
Crabman!
Passengers (doing sweet bugger all)
CURRENT HP:
Sabelina 13/13
Xing 7/11