Since the evil corn has been dealt with and they may well be traveling overland for some while, Braxton loads Blaudon up with his pack saddle and things he thinks they may need. Wouldn't do to be caught out in a storm, after all. It'll do the mule good to get out and really stretch his legs after the voyage and being kept safely near the town for so long.
The sailor is surprised when Becky volunteers herself to come along, and equally surprised when Ankha not only does not attempt to dissuade the girl, but actively encourages her! As they travel, he looks for the opportunity to take the alchemist aside. "Are you so sure she should be coming along? We don't know what lies in wait for us out here. No one appreciates some good, reckless fun more than me, but she's practically
a child. This, uhh, automoton may well lead us to the source of the missing colony, and who knows what kind of threat could be there." He fusses with the straps of the pack saddle and clears his throat, avoiding looking at Ankha. "As I said, I enjoy the odd bout of reckless behavior, but maybe you, ah, we haven't taken into account all the risks that could be waiting out here."
Braxton is not overly worried about the quicksand situation. "I've heard quicksand is not so quick as the name implies. Still, terrible way to go." He stows his pipe and unhooks a rope from the pack saddle, clicking his tongue twice at the mule. "Come, Blaudon. I expect we'll find a use for you yet!"
Since Braxton had been intently interested in Lyra's mapmaking skills on the voyage over and had spent time trying to befriend her, Blaudon's keen ears recognize the womans cries and he trots off towards the commotion, braying loudly to announce his presence and expectations of treats.
The way she takes you quickly opens into a small clearing with some trees surrounding it. "Careful, we don't know how much of this area is quicksand quite yet, Didn't get a chance to look at any of it before he fell in."
Upon hearing you approach, Milo calls out in panic. "Is someone out there?" his voice is extremely shaky, most likely from the effort and stress of the current situation.
Ankha is quick to point out the closest pit of quicksand, a large patch right on the edge of the clearing.
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Ankha shrugs good-naturedly at Braxton’s concerns … until he says the word ‘child’. That strikes an unexpected nerve, and the normally cheerful alchemist acquires a bitter, age-obsessed edge.
“Just because we haven’t lived as long as other people doesn’t mean we’re useless, or a burden. If there’s trouble we’ll need all the help we can get.” She doesn’t bother trying to keep her voice down; indeed, it’s rather louder and more insistent than usual.
======================================================
“It’s okay, Milo,” Ankha tries to reassure the man in a rather shaky voice of her own. “Lyra told us what happened and we’re here to help. Just, uh, stay calm and don’t panic, okay?” She abruptly skids to a halt and points out a large patch of quicksand directly ahead.
“Maybe this way, staying close to the trees?” she suggests to the others. “That way there’ll at least be branches and roots to hold onto.” The alchemist cautiously skirts the southern edge of quicksand, poking sticks and twigs into the ground to mark its extent.
Coming to a halt as Ankha points out the patch of quicksand, Ku'Hania studies the area intently, to determine where the dangerous areas are, and the safest path through.
"But the tree that's closest to Milo.... Shouldn't we hook around to the north?"
Becky looks conflicted but decides that Ankha's pretty smart so she follows her lead, taking the southern path to the trapped colonist.
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"Spoken like someone who has never watched a greenhorn be washed overboard and disappear beneath the waves because they were to young and inexperienced to understand the risk they were taking!" Braxton says, frustrated. "Just because someone is willing, even eager, to rush into danger does not mean they are qualified. Often the first to rush into danger is the least qualified! And that goes double for young people. Have you even asked her what training she has?" The sailor shakes his head and turns away, sighing, hands on his hips. He dismisses Ankha with a wave of his hand. Often in this world it is seen that the best way to surmount a problem is to throw young blood at it. Not a position Braxton holds. And obviously not one Ankha holds, the alchemist is just excited to have someone else to talk about theories and formulae, Braxton surmises. He'll just have to keep an eye on the pair, since the two young, scientifically minded ladies obviously share a singular braincell.
Coil of silk rope in one hand, Blaudon's lead in the other, Braxton approaches the edge of the nearest sand pit. "The important thing is to stay calm, good chap!" He calls to the trapped man. "I'm lead to believe struggling will only hasten your sinking!" Neither his tone nor his bodylanguage imply panic or rush. He pats the mule on the nose to stop the beast, then drops the coil of silk rope on the ground next to him. Not a good way to treat good rope, but it is a lot of rope. He keeps hold of one end of the rope - the end with the grappling hook attached, and begins swinging it in a clockwise fashion with one hand, roughly a fathom of loose silk held between the two hands, trailing down to the coil collected at his feet.
Rescue: Pulling out a character trapped in quicksand can be difficult. A rescuer needs a branch, spear haft, rope, or similar tool that enables him to reach the victim with one end of it. Then he must make a DC 15 Strength check to successfully pull the victim, and the victim must make a DC 10 Strength check to hold onto the branch, pole, or rope. If both checks succeed, the victim is pulled 5 feet closer to safety. If the victim fails to hold on, he must make a DC 15 Swim check immediately to stay above the surface.
I forgot to ad the 2hp for getting a night's sleep, but otherwise yeah, damage from previous day.
Ku'Hania and Ankha are able to work together to identify two more pools of quicksand, and can easily point it out to the rest of the party. There's not much room to maneuver around the pools, but enough is there to walk safely between them.
Milo is able to stay above the lip of the quicksand, although you can see that he is beginning to tire from the exertion.
Becky tiptoes through the dangerous areas toward the tree nearest Milo. "Hold on! We'll save you!" she calls to him. To the others she calls out, "Who has some rope? I can tie it off while someone tosses the other end to Milo!"
"But the tree that's closest to Milo.... Shouldn't we hook around to the north?"
“That’s definitely our objective,” Ankha nods. “But we’ll want to stick near the trees, as much as we can, all the way there.”
After helping Ku’Hania pinpoint where all the quicksand is, the alchemist hurries over to a safe patch that is about as close as she can get to the trapped man. “Here, Milo,” she quickly extends the haft of her polearm to the man, “grab on!” As soon as he seems to have a firm grip, she tries to pull him out.
Braxton leads himself and the mule a bit closer. Ankha is really strong, but he has his rope and Blaudon ready just in case.
Unfortunately Ankha does not manage to make any progress on pulling the man out of the quicksand.
The next time she tries, however, the two work together to pull him to the edge of the quicksand and from there its an easy task to drag him out completely.
"Oh thank you so much!" Lyra calls out, her voice full of relief.
Milo, on the other hand, takes a few steps and then collapses on the solid ground on his side, obviously trying not to cry.
Lyra moves over to him and puts a hand on his back, comforting him as best as she can. "Don't worry, I got it from here. You guys carry on doing...what is it you are doing, actually? It's apparently a very dangerous island, best to be as careful as possible." she says, looking around at the unsuspecting clearing they almost lost someone to.
Ku'Hania takes a moment to conjure, water, drawing from the moisture in the air to wash the worst of the quicksand from the shaken form of Milo, at least helping him clean up as he recovers.
"We're following a device, likely left by whoever was spying on the intitail settlement."
Ankha blushes at Lyra’s thanks. “It was nothing. Just glad we were around to help.”
She nods along in agreement with Ku’Hania. “Unfortunately, we should get back to our mission—I know Dakari said that the clockwork would follow our orders without fail, but I’m still worried about leaving it alone for too long.” The alchemist fidgets uncomfortably. “You two be careful too. We’ll mark out where the quicksand is, just to make sure. Is there anything else we can do to help before we leave?”
Is there anything else we can do to help before we leave?”
"No, I think I got this handled. I can get him back to the colony, following the path we took to get here."
Resuming your following of the clockwork spy, the mech continues flying north until it reaches a clearing .
The trees thin out around this field of shattered stones and fragments. Toppled marble columns jut haphazardly from the ground and are partially covered with moss. These rocks are the only evidence that buildings once stood here, but the passage of thousands of years has left little but their broken stone skeletons. One remnant remains incongruous with the ruins: a circular marble dais carved from a distinctly lustrous pinkish stone, perfectly preserved but surrounded by a crumbled stone rotunda that has not weathered the ages nearly as well.
The spy flies up towards the dais and eventually stops right in front of it, facing it.
After recovering her rapier , Becky follows along with her new companions, thrilled about finally getting to explore the depths of the island. When the ruins come into view and the clockwork hovers there, Becky creeps forward.
"Ooooh!" the teen gushes upon seeing the unusual pinkish stone. She seems enraptured by it, temporarily ignoring her potentially dangerous surroundings to get a better view of the stone. "This would make a beautiful floor for a bathroom!" Her eyes widen suddenly as she turns toward Ankha. "Or...an alchemist's workshop!"
“It’s even better than that,” Ankha replies to Becky, “I think these might be Azlanti ruins! And that means we’re that much closer to uncovering their secrets!” Her eyes shine with excitement as she approaches the dais, but she does retain enough caution to glance around the clearing first—after all, the tiny spybot reports to someone, and part of their quest is to figure out who. “Besides, marble is too easily damaged by the chemicals I use—something like granite would be much better for a laboratory. But it would look pretty inside a house.” When she reaches the well-preserved pinkish remmant she examines the surrounding area with careful interest.
"Let's, uhh, try and learn a little more about what we're dealing with before we ship it off to the masons to slabify, shall we?" Braxton advises, sheathing his sword. With the intonation of a few words and gestures that Braxton somehow just knows, the sailor's eyes begin to glow, allowing him to see magical auras. Casually walking around the broken pillars, he listlessly packs his pipe and lights it, taking a few puffs. Some say smoke stimulates the brain, but who really knows. Approaching the pink centerpiece, he confesses. "Can't say I know anything about ruins."
As the group approaches the dais, Ankha doesn't spot anything or anyone hiding around the area. Something interesting does happen, however, as the image of a humanoid figure flickers into existence on the dais and begins to address a nonexistent audience.
The figure wears black robes befitting an academic or a spellcaster, and wears a peculiar metal helm that obscures all the wearer’s features except the mouth, which is partially covered by chain links. The front of the helmet is decorated by three upward-pointing tines, like a fork or a trident. The figure’s words are clearly audible, but are spoken in Azlanti, and it gestures with its hands, as if to calm or reassure.
"Loyal citizens of the empire—fear not. The blot in the heavens is but a ruse by veiled foes to keep us distracted in this time of mounting chaos. Tend to your regular duties, and trust in the Ioun Imperative and your emperor to keep you safe. Do not fail us, and we shall not fail you."
When the image appears, Ankha reacts immediately, instinctively stretching one protective arm in front of Becky, and reaching for her polearm with the other. Only when it becomes clear that the person is an illusion—verified by tentatively poking it with her fauchard—does Ankha relax and lower her weapon. Her confusion, however, remains unabated.
“Umm … does anyone understand what it’s saying?”
Becky stands watching in amazement for a few moments before solemnly answering the figure in what sounds to be the same strange language. Then the young colonist translates what the image said before adding, "And I asked him if he was intentionally lying to those to whom he spoke or was just tragically wrong in his assessment. The 'blot' he spoke of, I'm assuming, is what we call Earthfall...the event that brought about the end of the ancient Azlanti civilization."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Ku'Hania thanka Becky for the use of her healing magic, before turning her attention to the stunning ruins and the mysterious pink marble piece.
She instinctively takes a step back as the image appears, raising her weapon, until Ankha's hesitant testing proves it to be merely a magical image, though even that is baffling given the likely age of the ruined structures.
Already impressed by Becky, her approximation of her improves when the young bard proves capable of translating and speaking the ancient language. Braxton's opinions on age and usefulness be damned.
The sailor jumps back, startled, when the azlanti man appears, reflexivly drawing a hidden dagger to toss in the general direction of the ghost. Not bloodthristy, and in keeping in mind that they are here for peaceful purposes, he stays his blade. Strangely, the person before them does not seem to be aware of the party, addressing an unseen audience. Braxton relaxes a bit and continues to circle the dais. Is this an azlanti? "Eh? And what are you?" He asks in azlanti. "Another island spector, trapped for eternity?"
The figure watches impassively as you are either startled or intrigued by his words, before speaking again.
"Loyal citizens of the empire—fear not. The blot in the heavens is but a ruse by veiled foes to keep us distracted in this time of mounting chaos. Tend to your regular duties, and trust in the Ioun Imperative and your emperor to keep you safe. Do not fail us, and we shall not fail you."
He makes the exact same motion with his hands, confirming that it is most likely some form of magical recording or the like. The exact way it functions or what spell it is, however, is lost to both Becky and Ankha.
“Azlanti?! It was speaking Azlanti?” Ankha is very impressed by Becky’s linguistic skills, and definitely glad that the bard has joined them. “Ooh, that’s incredible! I have no idea how a spell from before Earthfall—or whatever is making that talking image—is still working today. Do you think this clockwork machine,” she glances down at the spybot near her feet, “is one of their devices, from before Earthfall too? I wonder if we should make it play back its recordings?”
In hopes of discovering more, the alchemist carefully and systematically begins examining the dais and its surroundings. While she searches, she converses with her team. “They sure dressed differently back then, didn’t they?”
"At least the important people and leaders." Ku'Hania replies.
Braxton sneers at the illusion. "You can tell how much they believe in whatever they're peddling by the way the cover their faces. People who genuinely stand behind their rhetoric always cover their faces. Nothing says integrity like a faceless enforcer! Piss off, stupid dead guy." He draws the azlanti sword and smacks the dais with it. "And your swords suck, too!"
After an exhaustive but nonproductive search of the dais, and with no further leads on what happened to the missing colonists, Ankha’s life settles into a sort of routine. When they return to the colony she visits Alba for various alchemical supplies and sets up a small laboratory in her room of the house. For the next several days her room is a source of bubbling sounds and pungent smells. Most of her time is spent making potions, with Becky (and Ku’Hania and Braxton if they so wish) invited to observe and even help with some of the simpler tasks. The rest of her time is spent discussing theories with Alba, squashing ankheg larvae, lending her sturdy shoulders to heavy construction projects, and responding to any tasks Ramona might have for them.
By week’s end she has created an assortment of potions, both for the colony at large and for her party, including Enlarge Person, Cure Light Wounds, Ant Haul, Endure Elements, Negate Aroma, and last but not least, Touch of the Sea, for who knows when she’ll be required to go into the water again.
Ku'Hania spends her time between helping wherever needed (such as hunting the ankheg larvae, and physical tasks around the settlement, Checking in with others who might need her skills, and of course, spending time in the water, taking to nightly evening swims from just a little before sunset until nightfall, enjoying the ocean with her companion and exploring the immediate beach and coastline.
Becky spends her free time helping the others with their projects, dissecting and closely examining any ankheg larva they might find and defeat. The young scholar pays the most attention and seems most invested when she watches and helps Ankha make potions.
I bet I could be a real help...with a little more practice!
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Once things have settled down, Braxton approaches Becky. Ankha did not seem to understand his concerns, and, while he has no authority over the young lady, he feels it is his responsibility to at least caution her.
"Hey, I really appreciate your help with that corn... thing," he says, his tone noncommittal and aloof as usual. "You've got some serious guts. Most people wouldn't run into a cloud of red dust with hitherto unknown skin-melting capabilities." It was an impressive act from the girl, regardless. "I just want to make sure you grasp just how dicey things can get, especially in places like this. Trust me, I've danced with danger on the edge of the maps more times than I can count, and things don't always turn out alright. Just, you know, keep your head on straight and be careful, okay? You don't want one reckless step to capsize the boat."
The discovery of the Azlanti artifact is useless. The tyrant wasn't showing its face, so Braxton, who is ostensibly Azlanti himself, could not even determine if he looked Azlanti. The existence of the still-functioning artifact is probably of interest to the historians in the group, but it does nothing for Braxton.
The mystery of the missing colonists also goes unanswered, maddeningly. For now, he does what he can to settle into colony life. The colony, as they found it, was quite defensible, and he encourages their leader, Ramona, to put initial focus on completing the wall that partially circles the heart of the village, since they still don't know what they're facing. He avails himself to their leader when needed to grow relations with their new, scaled neighbors. In spite of everything, the start is undeniably positive, with most stepping up to help where and when needed.
The veteran sailor is well familiar with logistics, so he spends much of his time assisting in the establishment and organization of the supply stores. Ultimately, he will need to find a patch of land to claim to advance his own personal goals. Somewhere with clean water, wildflowers, and lots of bees, to build his meadery. To that end, he continues to build rapport with those who can help, particularly mapmaker Lyra Heatherly, as well as those with inclinations towards lumber and carpentry. For some reason, blessed by the Lucky Drunk, Braxton can turn water into ale and mead now. As he explained to Ankha, it isn't great quality, but he has some better stuff he purchased from Absalom. Those stores won't last forever, but he makes sure to offer Lyra some of the good stuff whenever she returns to the village.
He allows Blaudon to be used for general mule-related tasks when he doesn't need the animal to haul things for himself.
The first day passes relatively uneventfully, with only minor bickering about who gets assigned to which already-completed house providing any entertainment.
It's the morning after the first day when yet another dramatic scene ensues. One of Ramona's officers comes to you early in the morning with unfortunate news: one of the colonists was attacked in the middle of the night inside their house last night. Luckily, the victim of said attack survived, and is none the worse for wear beyond the shock of it all. He gives you the name of the colonist, a Daib Joiner (a fairly experienced carpenter), and asks you to investigate.
Daib lives in one of the completed houses on the south end of the row of the colony's main street. When you arrive, the man is sitting in a chair at his sparse kitchen table, waiting for you.
"Are you here to ask me about the attack?" he asks upon letting you in. "Was an awful thing, it was."
Braxton enters the mans kitchen with his usual swagger, casually sauntering up to where he sits. He finds people tend to adopt the behavior of those around them, especially implied authorities, so he stays loose and relaxed. "Ah! Our intrepid survivor!" The sailor claps the man on the shoulder and gives him a reassuring grin. He's vaguely familiar with the carpenter, one of the colonists who's services he will likely need some day, hopefully soon. Supple, deer-skin gloves draw a holy symbol from inside Braxton's shirt. The symbol represents a tankard and, fittingly enough, has a stopper, which Braxton removes with a quiet pop. He holds the tiny tankard out to the man. "Here, steady your nerves. We can continue whenever you're ready."
The sailor’s relaxed demeanor is almost immediately counteracted by Ankha’s entrance. “Ooh, are you okay?” she gushes with anxious concern. “Did it hurt you? What happened?” She fusses over the poor carpenter, looking over him for any signs of injury. “If you need a healing potion, I could whip one up for you in a couple hours.”
The man seems visibly shaken up at even trying to remember the events of the previous night.
"I don't even know how they got in; all I remember is waking up to someone trying to choke me to death."
His face flushes a bit, blushing before he sheepishly continues.
"Geoff, my uh...partner. He got up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water and returned to find some stranger in their bedroom trying to kill me. He struck the bastard on the head with an iron skillet, but this only seemed to daze them, and it managed to stagger out the door and
into the night."
It's at this time that another man comes downstairs with a pair of mugs, which from the smell you can tell are full of tea.
"It was an ugly thing, a horrible little naked man with gray skin and long, rubbery arms." Geoff says as he sits at the table and passes one of the two cups of tea over. "Ah, sorry, if I had known we'd have company I would've brewed more for you."
Ku'Hania listens as Daib describes the attack, surprised and intrigued by the description of events. Turning as the other man enters the room, she gives him a nod, paying specific attention to the description.
"Did the...person, say anything?"
"Ah, sorry, if I had known we'd have company I would've brewed more for you."
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Ankha replies easily in a cheerful voice, “I’ve already had my tea this morning. I’m just glad you’re both all right.” She pauses, trying to think how to solve this mystery.
“Do you have any idea what time this happened? Could I see the skillet you used to chase it off?” The alchemist spends some time carefully examining the skillet, hoping to find a trace of blood or a hair that might be used to identify the creature. “You seemed surprised that it was only dazed. Did you hit it really hard?”
"Uh...a couple of hours after midnight maybe?" Daib says, visibly trying to remember. "We were so shocked we didn't pay much attention to detail, I guess."
"It didn't say anything, no." Geoff says, taking another sip of tea. "It just stood there before I hit it with the skillet. I'm sure I can find it to let you see it if it'll be useful at all. Come to think of it, it didn't really look human? Well, I'm sure it wasn't human." he clarifies, laughing nervously.
"I think it had a weird wide mouth with a split at the top? Full of sharp teeth, I think, but it was really dark and I can't be sure."
Ankha, given the description of the creature, recognizes it as another of the strange creatures Dolgrin identified as a choker. An ambush creature that usually stalks its prey or attempts to set traps for it, this attack is unusual to say the least. Its lair must be near for it to boldly attack this way.
"Sounds like one of those choker bastards that got into the booze." Braxton says, shaking his head, mournful. "They've probably gotten used to raiding the colony for supplies since the first batch of colonists have been... indisposed." He sighs heavily, moving to a window and gazing out wistfully. "I did not come here to wage war, but we need to push back the wild things that have moved back towards the with the absence of people. Wouldn't want children or barrels of whiskey disappearing in the night."
Ankha nods, agreeing with Braxton. “We saw one of these chokers before, when we were first securing the colony. Dolgrin said that they’re predators that live underground in the dark. They normally stalk their prey or ambush it, and usually individuals, not groups, so that explains it running off once Geoff appeared. Its lair is probably close by.”
She pauses, thinking. “The one we encountered had noticeable tracks—sort of like starfish-shaped footprints. Did you notice its hands? The one we saw had five spiny claws on each hand.” She peers at Daib’s neck, looking for any marks. “And you said you don’t know how it got in, so you keep your door locked? Hmm.” The alchemist examines the doors and windows thoroughly, trying to figure out how it entered.
"We should probably looks for a cave entrance not too far from this side of the village." Ku'Hania suggests, considering where the choker may have come from.
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Becky shows up at the scene of the crime fashionably late, as teen girls are wont to do. "Sorry--had to wait 'til my mom headed to the town council building before I could slip away," she reports quietly.
"It indeed sounds like we've got another choker on our hands," the teen confirms. "Grabby little things with long arms--it could've reached up, grabbed the edge of the roof, and pulled itself up to and through a window that wasn't shuttered and locked."
Moving over to Braxton by the window, the precocious teenager adds, "I see that the party tracker has already deduced as much!" When the brewmaster gives her a puzzled, perhaps even annoyed look, the bard clears her throat a bit before turning in Ku'Hania's direction. "Are YOU the party's tracker?" she mouths silently in the half-elf's direction.
Ku'Hania gives Becky an amused look, mouthing back "I suppose so." with a shrug.
Ankha and Becky don't find anything inside of the house, but right outside one of the windows (which must have been open at the time of the attack) they find small, unusual footprints that lead in the direction of the farm .
The tracks become more difficult to follow as the trail leads up the hill, but Ku'Hania easily traces them to the small well dug into the ground next to the farm. They disappear right as they reach said well, indicating something awful: it came out of the well.