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Carver leans down, wincing at the pains in his chest, to pick up his longbow. At Karl's query he shrugs, "Right as rain, gov. Stitcher's pint set me propers." He glances down at the trinkets warranting Beckett's attention. "What's given ya the Willies, Scrapper? They got a smell about 'em? Or is it the bits o' looney gnomes what color 'em awful?"
. . . .
G2
---------------------- Karl's arrow stabs thru the second ghoul's neck, stifling it's shriek and eliciting a smoking ruin from the wound. The ghoul collapses amid hisses and flailing as it tries to pull the arrow free. But a third arrow impacts it's chest as Carver sends another shot it's way. Two of the ghouls writhe in the clearing, frantic and enraged but immobile. But the third one turns its baleful gaze upon the two archers. Its claws cut into the air around it, savage maw bristling with more teeth than should be possible. It leaps forward with unimaginable speed...
...closing in on Carver and taking him across the middle, cutting thru his armor as though it didn't exist. The monsters claws seep with poison, but Carver seems able to fend off its paralytic effects.
Carver glances over as Karl readies his next move. "That ain't clothin', mate. That's some bloke's skin."
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Carver follows along with Marsh, skirting along the right side of the clearing to get into position. "Cold Iron stings the fangers some..." He pulls pulls a pair of arrows from his quiver and hands them over. "Don't bullocks up your shots n' waste 'em." He draws back an arrow. "Don't let 'em bite ya...or run ya with their claws, chummeroo. Ya freeze up sometimes. Seen a fella lock up, couldn't do for nothin' while they ate him."
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Linkah shrugs, ”Not sure, Marshy.” It’s clear he’s not eager to find out.
”Gah…” Carver presses a sleeve against his nose. ”Ya know bloody well wha’ them fangers r’ eatin’...” He waves to the right of the clearing. ”We get hidden, lil fella here warns Stitches.” He nods back the way they came. ”You n’ me, we catch ‘em up in a pinch, yeah?” ”Maybe go around, huh?” Linkah offers, big saucers for eyes as he doesn’t let the dining trio out of his sight. Carver shakes his head, finger pointing towards the other side of the clearing. They can just make out another path leading further north. ”Only path for our course…” ”Bugger that…” Linkah responds. But he grudgingly nods. ”Right. They draw the fangers’ attention, we hit ‘em from behind.” Carver’s whispered words seem more confident than the color fear in his eyes. The halfling slips back the way they came, soft footsteps all but silent, small frame disappearing into th forest like a ghost.
. Caravan Members (Updated Statuses):
... Caravan Boss - Climber (dwarf | male) Drivers
Scouts
Skirmishers / Fighters
--------------------------------------------------- Decased
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Auran is seeing to Nifa when Marsh calls for those infected. The follower of Sarenrae shakes his head and points with his chin to the nearest wagon. "Nifa, Khatelch and Hammond. All bitten. All unable to resist the worm-rot. I've seen one fall to this." He rests his hands on his hips, head bowed. "Ten days it took. Slowly eating away at him." For those bitten and their blood darkened by the teeth of the Worg and his Death Dogs, their wounds begin to burn slightly. An angry red blush surrounds the wound site and a clear, viscous liquid weeps from it.
Auran signals to Beckett and Lavios to join him and Karl as they discuss the infection. "My healing ability is unable to see thru to a cure for this blighting. But perhaps together we can learn more?"
Healing Wormpox:
Disease: Wormpox Contracted by Bite/Injury Save Fort DC 12 Save frequency 1/day Fail Effect 1 Con damage each day Cure: 2 consecutive saves or Cure Disease potion/spell In summary, each character gets one fortitude save per day. DC 12. Each failure causes and additional point of CON drain. But two consecutive fortitude saves cures the disease. Or, a Cure Disease spell (potion) will do the trick. This is non-communicable other than by the bite of the Death Dog or similar symbiotic host. Climber stumps thru the caravan, attempting to get the teams going. "Inspitah's a half day away, lads. We can make it." Though he sells to encourage, the exhaustion in the old dwarfs tone betrays him. He'd expected a dangerous trek, but this had proven to be much more. But for those who look eastward, the rising sun with its low greenish orange glow on the horizon, outlines the vague shape of Demgazi's wooden palisades and the snow of early morning cookfires. Indeed, at a moderate pace, the caravan could reach its destination in as little as 4 hours!
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Climber considers the options. "Agreed. Tryin' ta make time only gets us tired. Makes us easier meat." He wipes at his brow, sweat beading as the day's new sun already lifts the temperature above 80°. "We continue ta work the perimeters ona march. Then we tighten up o'er night. The death dogs like the night. Those red eyes o' theirs sees be'er at night." "I gotta see to the rigs. Make sure the wheels don 'ave any damage." Climber regain his feet and nods ascent to Auran's querying eyes. "See to it, lad. Then get yer bloody hoops mounted up." The dwarf caravan boss stumps away, barking orders and getting the workers moving. Auran, still crouching in the circle made by the party members, nods to Beckett. "I am but a stranger to your companions, Sunhammer, my words will have impact but not weight." He inclines his head to Beckett and stands smoothly, beginning to strip his tunic and armor until his chest is bared to the sky. Auran draws his scimitar and it is then that the party notes the intricate scrollwork near the cross guard. For the Inquisitor of Sarenrae, he may note something more. Auran bows to Beckett and says, "Will you not lift your voice to the coming Dawn? Will you now please speed our thanks to the goddess who shined down on us even in the dead of night?"
Beckett | Knowledge (religion) DC 15:
The scrollwork on Auran's sword combined with his tattoos, marks him as a member of the Cult of the Dawnflower out of Qadira. You've heard varying rumors about them that all center on the cult being a highly militants sect of Sarenrae worshippers. Phedron: .. Caster puffs out his chest and pumps his wings once to lift himself into the air. "This one goes to seek the four-legs that do not fly...there are worse things... Phedron receives images that coincide with the hawk's displeasure. But the wizard also senses that Caster is happier in the wing. It's not long before the black hawk sends warning from the foothills and crag rocks to the north. A large pack of four-legs with pelts crawling with squirming things is lurking there. Ten to fifteen.
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"I am on pilgrimage for very much the same reason. A chance to clear my head. A chance to ensure I do not give in to flights of fancy." He tips the hilt of his scimitar in the direction of Beckett's companions. "They gather against evil despite the unknown horizon? You should count yourself blessed and embrace them as brothers. The Everlight does not shine down upon those who'd keep the light to themselves." "I have chosen the solitary oath for 12 years now. Aiding others, combating those who would see the Everlight diminished." His eyes drift southward then back to Beckett. "I go to the land of my father, yes. But I also go to the land of my order. In all my years alone I've never been so effective and steadfast as when I had my brothers and sisters by my side." Auran begins gathering his gear; donning his tunic and armor and the helm with its scarf of white. "Do not look so harshly upon those Sarenrae has put at your side. Lead them. Learn from them. Depend upon them. The sun shines down with radiant purity, but it does so in myriads of colours. Together those rays are irresistible." He buckles the harness over his shoulders where he slips his shield and then the belt from which his blade hangs. "How long are you to journey alone amid friends? And why would you choose such a path?"
☀ ☀ ☀ Auran inclines his head in understanding. "I settle my debt to Hittlebriar on this journey. And with my contract fulfilled, I head south to Qadira and pilgrimage to Katheer and the land of my father." There is a long pause as he considers the scimitar in his hands. He finishes the cleaning the blade and sheathes it. "This place to which we go. Inspitah. Demgazi. They are shadowed. Like a heavy cloud blotting out the sun. Our Lady's light does not shine there. Is this why you and these others go?"
☀ ☀ ☀ Auran is quietly praying the words to a relatively new hymn by Beckett's reckoning. As the last refrain closes he takes a drink of water and stoops down on the boulder, waiting until Beckett is finished. "This far from the cities and their suspicions, it is good to freely worship, yes?" He brings out an oiled cloth and draws his scimitar, cleaning the weapon of gnoll blood. "I see you do not for the Everlight's weapon. Is this by choice or by training?" He glances up from his work and adds, "A curiosity more than anything. You are neither mercenary nor vagabond, are you on pilgrimage to Qadira?" |
