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"A quick rest and then back to dealing with them, then?" "Well, we'll have to stay around here for a while to let Torden, Bran, and the others catch up. If the cannibals come back, we said that we'd be in here to support them for an assault."
"By the way, if the cannibals don't come back, what do you think that the the others should do when they get here? Retreat back to our old camp, or stay here?"
Pinching the ripped fabric and leather, "Flicken, was auseinander". Removing her hands, reveals a still filthy but mended shirt. "Ah, thanks." Origen notices the accumulated dirt of his recent explorations and fighting. With a few muttered words, he removes one of the bigger patches with a cantrip. I have to remember to keep up with that. Too much disease, especially down here, for it to be safe not to. Later, after the party sets up camp for the night, Origen spends some time using prestidigitation to clean his and his friends' clothes.
Origen nods. "I never thought that you were working with the cannibals, but if you had been, you wouldn't have helped us against the ghouls. "My opinion, for what it's worth, is that we should first deal with those cannibals. They're a danger not only to us, but also to anyone else shipwrecked here. Also, we've already struck against them several times, and they didn't seem very forgiving to me. "I'm puzzled why we found our old captain down here, though. From his diary, Captain Kovack was Ieana's pawn, and I don't see how he would have got down here without the cannibals letting them through. But I'm not sure why they dealt with her peacefully rather than attacking her. "Maybe this door hides some of the answers."
Skull snake head - Aura: faint abjuration Origen says, "I'm not certain what the necklace is, but my best guess is a minor protective item."
Spoiler:
And to the north the stone door held in the jaws of the carved snake head is shut. Ash, scorch marks, and empty vials litter the floor before the door. Isandril finds what appears to be runes etched at the base and top of the door but them seem faded and burned away. Origen scrutinizes the door closely, looking for signs of residual magic. "Probably from a spell . . . a very old one, from the looks of this temple."
Headless. But not truly dead, like Aroden. The ghoul's spells are one of many testaments to that he answers in his gravelly voice. Origen says, "That explains the Mother's ranting about a 'beheaded serpent god.' I wonder what chopped his head off?" Not for the first time, he ponders the nature of the gods with confusion. Alive without a head? The rules must be really different for the gods.
Spoiler:
More like the deity of the ancient serpentfolk, fondly referred to by myself as "Ydersius the Not-Quite-Dead..." Aedalis rasps. "Eh? Serpentfolk?" Origen thinks for a moment. "Didn't Captain Kovack's diary mention something about Ieana being 'a serpentine demon'? A coincidence?" Origen doesn't look as if he's convinced that it's a coincidence. "What do you mean by 'Not-Quite-Dead,' Aedalis? Undead?"
. . . . The two men bring the chest back to shore and lay out the items they have found. Origen is unmoved by the gold, but his eyes light up when he sees the alchemical supplies. "Ah, these antitoxins will come in handy!" "And these may too." He looks intently the vials, ring, and totem-like skull necklace. "Hmm, I think that I've seen something like these before."
Another tunnel connects that room to a small cove with strange cave scrawlings in Aklo all over the walls. The script is easily read by those who know the dark language. Origen translates the cave scrawlings. "This says, 'All glory to Great Ydersius,' though the syntax is a little . . . odd, even for Aklo."
Origen smiles, though he looks around warily, not sure if the room is really safe. "Good point, Isandril. And here I was, about to complain that we never find evil cathedrals glorifying the demon lord of butterflies and fluffy kittens."
Origen looks around warily. "I'll keep a lookout in case that the noise attracted any more. We need to be quick, but we should check here and the other caves before we go." "And say a few words over Captain Kovack. When Brynmor took him down, he seemed almost happy, so maybe he's at peace now."
Before he walks back back to the Captain's body, he pokes at the Mother's head with his foot. "Have any of you heard of 'the beheaded serpent god' or the Ydersius that she was threatening us with? The name is unfamiliar to me."
As soon as Brynmor sends the Captain to his rest, Origen spins about to rush toward the others. "Come on!"
He sends a bolt of acid toward the Mother.
:
Only two left, but we haven't won yet. Origen sends a second bolt of acid past Brynmor, this time toward his former captain.
The Captain dodges aside at the last moment, so the acid only strikes a glancing blow.
Even if his features would have been to obscure the things clothing (which is more whole than all the others) would have given the captain away. The blue coat with its brass buttons and white trousers, now dirty and bloody, were what the captain always wore. Origen says loudly, "It's Captain Kovack--or what's left of him!" He peers around Brynmor, trying to time his next shot.
Origen starts to move toward the Mother, but then looks back at Brynmor, who stands alone against another of the horrible undead. He stands frozen for a moment, but then steps back to help the fighter.
His light illuminates the twisted forms of two ghouls in the tunnel beyond Brynmor. Aiming carefully, he sends a bolt of sizzling acid toward the nearer of them.
The bolt strikes the ghoul squarely, leaving a sizzling, foul-smelling blotch on its chest.
Spoiler:
"Wait a moment, Isandril." Origen snaps open the scroll. Concentrating, he reads the enscribed magical words.
In an instant, the darkness disappears, and the room is illuminated by the ioun torch. Origen loads a quarrel into his crossbow.
"A chance to dispel the darkness." Origen starts to open the scroll tube.
Origen falls back, past Brynmor and Yuuwa, and into the room beyond. Most of its contours are hidden by a globe of darkness that unnaturally rejects the glow of his ioun torch.
Origen says, "There should be a source for the darkness in the center. Cover it, and it'll restore the light!" As he speaks, he cradles Brynmor's crossbow in his left arm for a moment. Reaching into his pack, Origen's hand closes on a particular scroll. Just in case that they can't find it.
Spoiler:
Origen is too distracted by the ghoul's clawing and scrabbling at Yuuwa to understand why the lights up ahead disappeared. Nearly shouting a short incantation, he touches Yuuwa's back to complete the spell. The ghoul stares in puzzlement at the odd sigil that appears on her.
Origen grabs the bolt case from Brynmor, shrugging the belt over his shoulder one-handed.
He watches with alarm as the foul ghoul attempts to claw at his companion, and he glances back toward Brynmor, aware that the Chelaxian may be attacked at any moment.
Spoiler:
The back-up bolts are probably in his backpack, correct?
Concerning Origen's Crossbow: At least for the time being, I believe the crossbow is to be loaned to Torden. As for the backpacks thing, I was actually going to get a masterwork one as soon as we have the means (well, if ever we have the means, all things considered ;-)). And probably a bow of some sort at the same time.
". . . Who's gonna cover our backs?" "Too many backs to cover right now," responds Origen, as he snatches up the Chelaxian fighter's dropped crossbow.
Spoiler:
Origen hustles into the tunnel toward the Mother.
Spoiler:
Origen hears the ghoul queen's sinister "offer." "Sounds as if they need us in the other room."
Origen pauses for a second, his attention momentarily diverted from Brynmor's target. He glances over his shoulder at the tunnel behind, hearing the sounds of fighting from Isandril's melee. Yuuwa has the right of it. He prepares to fall back, though he still keeps his attention on the creature lurking in the far wall.
"Good eye, Yuuwa!" Stepping back behind Brynmor, Origen prepares to attack the creature as soon as it approaches.
Spoiler: He then moves to O15 next to Jonagher.
"Brynmor's right. There's something in this tunnel." Origen speaks a familiar-sounding spell, and the tunnel to the southwest is coated with a layer of blackish grease, dark even against the dancing shadows in the cavern. He says loudly, "But if it steps on this dangerous magical spell, it'll learn why it shouldn't have."
Origen then moves warily away from the passage mouth, pulling out a dagger as he awaits the attack. "Move up, Yuuwa, Aedalis, so you don't get cut off." His voice betrays a hint of nervousness.
"I do not believe we have much choice other than pursue the creature," Isandril suggests. "We would not want to move some other way only to have it rouse whatever friends it has down here and come after us when we least expect it." "Agreed," says Origen, as he begins to follow the elf.
Repeating the same spell of protection, Origen touches his friend Jonagher, imbuing him with the same defense. Then he hurries after Isandril and Aedalis, glancing down the new passages as he runs past their dark openings.
"Did you see that too?" he asks watching the tunnel for trouble. "Some sort of room down there. Looked like worked stone." Origen responds, "A buried ruin?" But then he remembers the number of entrances, any of which could hold more threats. "Jonagher, it'll have to wait. If we don't stop that thing quickly, it'll warn everything down here."
Recognizing that the creature is out of range, Origen says, "Brynmor, a protection spell." He mutters a few words, then touches the fighter, whose forehead glows with a spikey rune for a moment. The rune fades away slowly like a drop of ink dissolving in a pool of water.
Then Origen scrabbles forward along the ledge, moving past the first passage in the wall, to make room for his companions to enter. He quickly looks into the passage as he goes by.
Origen moves forward at the monster's cries of alarm, getting a good look at the once-human monster. The creature's obvious intelligence is as disturbing as its blue skin and its disgustingly long tongue. A true ghoul? Whatever it is, it doesn't look alive. "Aedalis, what sort of creature is this?"
Spoiler:
"I might as well stay in the front," Isandril offers as he moves to take point. "Isandril . . . ah . . . here." Origen fishes through his pack and pulls out a vial. He offers it to the injured elf. "A healing draught that I've been saving. Just in case."
"Hold up, please let me give a little of Gozreh's guidance to everyone." "Thanks, Yuuwa." Shifting the pack back on his shoulders as he waits, Origen coughs at the persistent stench. "The air down here's quite . . . special. I'd have thought that I'd get used to it by now."
"If your channeling will work against them, perhaps you should be a little closer to the front, Yuuwa. Just in case. And I'll stand ready--or perhaps crawl ready--to cast a protection spell." Origen looks at the narrow passage. "Well, the sooner that we start, the sooner that we can get out of here."
Spoiler:
The area is disgusting and just as your about to give up finding anything, a strip of leather armor falls into the light. The group notices something written on it. The words are written in blood and a splinter of bone found near the leather looks to have been used as the pen. "No, Yuuwa, it's all tr . . . hold on." Origen gently picks up the bloody strip from where the companions' efforts have revealed it. "This writing . . . if it's genuine, this was the Captain's." He reads the pitiful tale to his companions. "So Kovack was more of a victim than we are. At least he came to himself before the end." Sarenrae watch over his spirit. Musing out loud, Origen says, "'Serpentine demon.' That might explain the bite marks that we found on the cook's body." He tries to think what sort of creature Ieana might be.
"Yuuwa, the captain seems to have some disease or curse that made him change into a monster, probably something like the creatures that we fought. Is there anything we can do to protect ourselves? Other than leaving right now, that is."
"Brynmor, do you know where this 'Red Mountain' might be?" "Let's explore further. We may find out the fate of the other sailors." Origen mutters, "But I think that it was even worse than being eaten by the cannibals."
You have already drunk from the limited pool of my knowledge regarding them. Origen looks at the symbols of mortality and loss adorning Aedalis' robes. "Just generally knowledgable about such things? Or is this related to why you have those symbols on your clothes?" He sounds curious.
Spoiler: You sense a hint of caution leavens his curiosity, though he's not hostile to Aedalis.
I suspect those boils carry all kinds of disease. I am not an expert on such matters. Origen takes a step away from the nearest pseudo-ghoul carcass. "Better and better. Well, at least we have anti-disease medicine back at camp." He asks the bard, "Anything else that we should know about them?" Back at camp . . . wait. Origen rubs his eyes for a moment. Then he says, "Yuuwa, did Torden give you the healing wand before he left?"
Someone has been trying to create Ghouls down here- and is failing. Adealis reports cryptically. "You sure seem to know a thing or two about these freaks. Care to elaborate? Is that hag trying to get creative?" Origen says, "How exactly did 'someone' fail? Those creatures moved a lot faster than zombies, and they were fouler too. Do they carry diseases?"
Origen says, "True." He mutters a brief spell, and he carefully looks over the area for magical emanations.
Origen also takes a close look at the debris. I wonder . . . does any of this look as if it comes from the Jenivere or its missing crew?
Origen's lips tighten with annoyance. "Let's see how you like this, beautiful." Taking careful aim to avoid Jonagher, Origen sends a sizzling bolt of acid at the creature.
Origen hears animalistic growling intermingled with Brynmor's curses and the thud of a body hitting the stone floor. "What's happening in there?" He pushes forward past Aedalis and Jonagher, anxious that his companions are in serious danger.
At the sight--and smell--of the scabrous creature to the south, Origen recoils. What is that thing? Is it even alive?
He readies himself for its attempt to charge, preparing the necessary invocation.
Spoiler:
As Yuuwa drops to the cave floor, Origen pokes at the junk on the ground, noticing the old, brownish bloodstains covering some of the debris. "Nice decor," he mutters. "Surprising that it doesn't smell like monkey down here too." After a few moments, he notices that Jonagher isn't moving forward. Origen says softly, "What's happening? Do you see something?"
Allow me to perform a song of power I have composed first- I call it The Vampire's Prey. Origen listens with interest to Aedalis' intricate drum rhythms. His year on the ship with Torden has given him a much better ear for percussion.
He can hear an underlying magical order to the music, but its sense eludes him. His performance finished, Aedalis bows stiffly and prepares to descend, drawing his metal whip in preparation to descend. "You're a bard, then? Torden will be sorry that he missed hearing your song." Origen looks toward the jungle, but although Torden left only a few moments ago, he's already vanished into the dark foliage.
"Gentlemen... I have serious issues with exploring the dark underbelly of a cannibal village whilst the cannibals are busy hunting us." "I do too, Yuuwa. But I don't want to abandon anyone from the Jenivere to these cannibals, even our treacherous captain. If for nothing else, he has a lot of explaining to do." "At the very least, let us take advantage their absence and either secure items for our own use or destroy what may be used against us upon our exit. Personally I'd like to remove spell components of undead creation just in case. A couple of torches, rope and throwaway weapons(another net even), compliments of cannibals, would be a nice touch." "Based on what Isandril's said, it sounds as if they stripped the place. They may be moving around and looking for our camp to get the jump on us. That makes it even more important that Torden warn the others."
Torden nods and says to Origen, "The plan is a good one. We won't be safe until we can thin these cannibals numbers enough that they stay away from us for good." Origen looks at the dwarf, uncertain whether to argue more. But Torden seems set on returning. "If you're determined, good fortune, then. We'll see you soon." He offers the dwarf his hand.
"We have eight . . . ten, with the two sailors. Everyone at the camp can fight or use magic. I don't know if they all will help, but Torden can be pretty convincing." "It sure looks messy down there..." Turning to Isandril: "Your eyesight is certainly better than mine under these conditions. Can you see anything interesting, or should I throw a torch down there to see if we can improve things a bit?" Origen rummages around in his backpack for a few moments, then pulls out a flaming stone. He releases it, and the stone begins orbiting his head, shedding its light like a torch. He looks down into the pit himself, but waits to descend until Brynmor and Isandril are down.
. . . I merely assumed by the lack of tribal tattoo's, general hostility and use of a civilised tongue that you were also shipwrecked here. "You know the natives well already. They've attacked us twice without provocation, and our attempt to negotiate only demonstrated that talking wouldn't help." I'm not asking you to trust me yet, but I am willing to assist you in your endeavours if it means getting off this island alive. I am a worldly and resourceful man; you may find me to be an asset to your group of survivors. Origen looks toward his companions. "For what it's worth, I say to join forces. The more of us, the better that we'll both deter cannibal attacks."
Origen says little as Jonagher presents his daring, but risky idea. He recognizes that they must warn the others, but Torden--ill and inexperienced in jungle survival--may need aid to make it to camp safely. After Aedalis offers his companions' help, Origen says to the two sailors, "Do you men have experience with the jungle? Could you make it back to our camp safely?" He turns to his dwarf friend. "Torden, is this what you want?"
Spoiler:
A pale Taldan man with an aristocratic bearing strides confidently out of the treeline . . . . The man wears a hooded, black robe with gold trim, with ornate images of almost empty hourglasses, broken pocket watches, leaking water clocks and other symbology in a similar vein adorning the fine clothing. Origen freezes for a moment when he sees the movement at the edge of the forest. They're back! Wait . . . is it someone from the Jenivere? Like his fighter companion, Origen relaxes a little when he realizes that the new arrivals are more castaways. But only a little. Watching them closely, he mutters, "Are they from your ship, Brynmor?" As the three men approach, Origen looks curiously at the leader's ornate robes, which seem almost like magical or religious regalia.
We are survivors, not savages. We sought the lighthouse. Are you now in control of it? "Not yet. We're looking for any captives." "I'm Origen Leanthris, formerly of Absalom. Our ship, the Jenivere, wrecked here about a week ago. Since then we've been exploring--and fighting off savages."
The dwarf sighs as he looks back to the hole and then to the others, "I think we should start back. Or at least some of us should anyway." Torden's voice seems to rouse Origen from his focus on the monkey. "Eh? Cth'fau rath . . . I mean, wouldn't that split us up? We should go back, yes, but let's make sure that we check for captives first. It won't be much longer." And I don't want anyone from the Jenivere to die because we were too afraid to look for them. No one else . . . .
Spoiler:
Hmmm . . . that first bit sounded a lot like the language that Origen was using earlier, which Jonagher had said was Aklo. After this little foray is done, Origen owes you more of an explanation.
Spoiler:
Hmmm . . . that first bit was Aklo, the language that Origen was using earlier. After this little foray is done, Origen owes you more of an explanation. "I think that the monkey's screeching made stealthy scouting pointless for now. Let's do this as quickly as we can." Origen looks back toward the edge of the village, unease visible on his face.
Origen spins toward the source of the light and looks that direction for a moment, trying to see if anything is approaching. "Magic then... That hag is probably sending hell our way. Even more of a reason to be quick about this. Let's move." "Agreed. But before we go . . . ." Approaching the lighthouse, Origen says a brief spell. A dark ray shoots from his hand toward the prone monkey.
Origen contemplates what he can see of the frost-covered monkey for a moment. Then he fires a second ray. And a third.
Origen nods. He concentrates for a moment, then cautiously approaches the lighthouse--and the monkey.
"Do you really need a reason to shoot a monkey?" Jonagher quips. Origen smiles. "Witt, we won't know this time . . . because now that I think about it, that witch's hut smelled like Elly's room on a bad monkey day. Except about twelve times worse. And that gives us all a reason to shoot it." "Brynmor, if that witch is its master, it may have some magical protections. One bolt might not finish it."
Looking at the monkey, he takes out his crossbow and loads. "I don't like this critter at all... It almost looks as if it understands too much. Origen, don't magic users keep small animals sometimes as special pets? Could it belong to that crazed hag?"
Origen nods. "Yes, some wizards--and a few sorcerors--keep magically enhanced animals called 'familiars.' They usually keep them close, though. Did we see any sign that a monkey was sharing the witch's hut?" |
