The arcanists of Athas have honed evasion from persecution into an art, and their works are similarly difficult to identify. The flames writhe and twist, but refuse to conform to any known hue regarding the tiles.
The flames surrounding the fruit burst in a shower of tiny colored sparks, giving you an impression of abjuration magic.
It is small consolation, but you are at least able to discern the tattoos are products of The Way.
reflex save r19+9=28.
"hmmmm....what was the point of that? These kankf#&#ers make no sense."
Huh-ha! The human sure can jump! His movements look to be second nature.
Perhaps the lid could be broken down into strips of Basalt and honed to an edge to make some good daggers or some shortswords? [/ooc]
Suggestion: This one say clutch get shade-rest in noon-day, get sweat stop thin-shells. Then, run down long-ear sand walker. Kill kill, eat eat. Take sand walker water ahead they drink, while can.
Do I know what kanks eat and how much water they need?
Recognizing a kindred insect form on a primitive level, the Kank responds positively to Kirrish-Kreshk-Skiklik's overtures. Perhaps a bribe would cement the creatures trust?
The list of gear:
Also didn't we have some small cord armor, wooden armor and such? Maybe Holdrus will don the wooden armor if nobody wants it.
EDIT- Ah-ha. "a set of chitin armor, a set of wooden armor, and a small set of cord armor, as well as a carrikal (basically a battle axe), a stone heavy mace, bone short swords, and an alhulak, or cahulaks. Note that stone and bone weapons have -2 atk and damage. If armor or weapons other than simple are created, the party will probably have to set camp throughout the night."
Kirrish notices a distinct lack of vegetation and water, both in their packs and in the area around them. He pulls out one of his elf tongues, dusts it off and offers it to the kank, since he doesn't even really own anything else.
Query: Clutch own other eat eat or water get kank? Kank like green thing; could eat dead thing, though.
Suggestion: No hide dead kank. Waste sweat, hot hot.
Query: Head strong city dweller know thin-shell skin drawing?
Also didn't we have some small cord armor, wooden armor and such? Maybe Holdrus will don the wooden armor if nobody wants it.
He pulls out one of his elf tongues, dusts it off and offers it to the kank, since he doesn't even really own anything else.
Not being a creature typically interested in carrion, the hungry kank feigns disinterest in the tongue at first.
Eventually hunger wins the day, however, and the Kank devours the tongue, nearly removing your appendage in the process. It falls into line slightly behind its new “hivemate,” and begins following Kirrish-Kreshk-Skiklik everywhere, comically mirroring his movements when possible.
"Hrrmmm....now how do we get the honey? Does this thin have udders, or has teats of some kind? Hrrmmmm...."
"Hrrmmm....now how do we get the honey? Does this thin have udders, or has teats of some kind? Hrrmmmm...."
Hrrmm.....we should settle down, shelter from this heat. I thought this container might be some lost supplies. Those elves thought I think that too and try to gak me or whatever.
Those kankf%%*s can run all day. We'll never catch them slogging about and cooking our brains.
Maybe want to go back to the howdah? Mibby it's shadier than this deathtrap? Hrrrmmm.....
Are there stars?
I can't work armor so the Cord and Wood armors are beyond me but if someone makes them I wouldn't say no to wearing the wood.
At the kank's response to his overtures, Kirrish releases a pheremone smell of roses. He then rubs his forelimbs together and bobs his upper body up and down in the Thri-Kreen approximation of delight.
Glad declaration: Kank eat! This one call kank "Ggllurrsku-skrukk"! Greetings, Gggllurrsku-skrukk! Glad glad!
Declaration: This one look shade clutch and kank; try get green thing and water kank and clutch.
I also would like to get a good rest, but I figure I can spend a bit of time trying to make some decent daggers and a few Basalt arrowheads from the box's lid.
Gggllurrsku-skrukk!
[ooc]Sure. Technically, there isn't squat in this area, but hey, what good are skills if you can't use them? Maybe with a high enough check there will be a tiny cactus buried below the sand surface (preferably one that doesn't explode or shoot spines), or some scrub grass.
Radik scowls at the thri-keen's 'glad declaration'.
"Just what we need. Another parasite using up our supplies. Stupid bug."
One can't be sure whether that particular comment was directed at the kreen or at the kank.
"hrrmmm.....the thing makes honey....I thinking about,.... parasite nix, symbiote aye."
"....hrrmmmm...."
"hrrmmm.....the thing makes honey....I thinking about,.... parasite nix, symbiote aye."
"....hrrmmmm...."
"Degenerate..."
"hrmmm......leave your mother out of this, and I'll leave out of your mother.....hrmmm....."
"Gggllurrsku-skrukk good name for kank. Logical, also easy pronounce."
"hrmm...he....he....he he......he he he.........ha ha...."
(lol)
"Elves. Zombies. Halflings. Bugs. Degenerates. What next, clowns? Or tavern wenches, mayhap?"
The large, dangerous-looking human looks from one member of the motley group to another, looking them direcly in the eyes.
"I could take any one of you down. Don't make yourselves my problem, and I won't make you mine. Savvy?"
Issiki puts a hand up (his own, not an elf's) and asks, "What is "clowns"? What is "savvy"? What is "wenches"? I only ask so I can get a better idea of what you are talking about."
He smiles with utterly genuine interest and guileless innocence.
"Take somebody down means.....ah, never mind."
"Take them down where?" asks the halfling of Shenker.
He then turns to Radik.
"Where are you taking us down to?"
"Take them down where?" asks the halfling of Shenker.
"....hrmmmm.....I'm gonna shut my big mouth now.....hr hr.....hr hr....hrrrrmmm......."
Condescending Query: Large city dweller grow eat eat low side? No? Large city dweller no good as kank, then. Large city dweller hit large dead carry creature? No? Large city dweller no good as degenerates or 'ugs. Large city dweller get swatter any else not large city dweller? No? Large city dweller no good as gladiator hairless one. Large city dweller hide sand walker dead so no killer get clutch in night? No? No good as 'ug.
Declaration: Large city dweller useless. Large talk, no do. Drain on water; at least kank grow honey. That one only take, only give eat-hole noise.
Threat: Large city dweller looking tasty tasty.
Aso's idyllic image of a brotherhood of the freed has just shattered. Aso stands agog at the quarreling.
Provided the disagreement does not spiral down into a melee, when the shock fades he wanders off, removes the elf shirt that he has wrapped around his loins, and starts picking lice and fleas.
"hrrmmm....." (looks at Aso) "....everybody, now, stop getting itchy...,"
"we're all none of us, not one of us, alone here. Say--he guts me, and he is nobody particular, really he aint. Say--he guts me, then he guts him, then......him runs him through, only to get his brain exploded by some guy with magic and mind, who gets his brain exploded by the guy with the legbone, who gets tripped and stamped on by...Oh, I can't keep track, I only have nine finjers on my hansies."
He looks around....
"I guarantee the last man standing won't be alone....long as there's desert, he's got company."
"I ain't got no charismers for none of this, so everybody just knock off the mekillot s@%&."
That one only take, only give eat-hole noise.
A strange expression crosses Radik's face.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
A pause.
"Take what you can. Give nothing back. It's the only way you can get anywhere in the world."
He whirls around and stalks toward the carcass of the mekillot, the massive head of which he has claimed as his 'territory'.
Query: Head strong city dweller know thin-shell skin drawing?
Faindriac accepts the skin drawings from the Thri-kreen, his usual haughtiness forgotten in the chance to examine the new and unusual. "I do not know Kirrish, let me take a look,..." He looks up from his examination only when the argument begins to grow. But when it pans itself out, he returns to his investigation without comment.
I rolled a 14 on a generic roll HERE
After he finishes his examinations, he freely shares his conclusions (right or wrong) and returns the skins to Kirrish.
"I concur with the kreen." He announces to any who care to listen. "We will never catch the elves in a straight up footrace. And many of us are still close to dropping. I intend to rest and regain my strength. We will catch them faster if we are rested, as opposed to them gaining more ground every hour because we are still struggling for every step. And we will make much better time at night."
He looks around to see who, if any, has any disagreements or anything else to add, then stalks off, still leaning on his staff, to find a smidgin of shade to rest in.
Aso! Friend, please return and let not one idiot ruin your thoughts of the group. A smart man knows that to face the world you need to have companions. Obviously not all in our group are smart.
He who makes friends into his enemies is one not long for this world, and hard times can make some strange friends.
"hrmmm....mul, you talk the best sense, and you talk sense the best. Hrrrmm..."
And hey! "Gladiator"! Know that you hold no claim over any part of that beast. I bled and fought for it, as did many in this party, and if you wish to use it you will show proper respect. I too fought in the Arenas, and I too have never fallen to a foe. I have killed many foes and lain with Templar's wives who paid for the pleasure with ceramics earned in the employ of God-kings. Your threats mean less than nothing to me, so keep them. Use thought before speech, your words may ring with a semblance of intellect, and add the benefit of saving your hide.
"hrrmm.....he got them to pay him......I thank I was wily...."
"Issen, en, listen. We move out, at night see....and I'm sneaky. Yeah. Reeeeel sneaky. I could sneak up on a fly with my eyelash.
I can't see good at night, though, see....special not as good as those elves. But I'll do it all the same. So, any you guys are the sneak up ahead types, and see good at night, I'm with ya if you're with me on it."
"I also ghost out like that, though. Ye may not see me ghost out either, or you may, but I'm coming back around on them, I'm not dogging off on you. You can wager on it, I won't dog out on a real gent type shooter. I ain't scared off any these points, these elfy types. I'm coming back around of them, wager."
"Issen, en, listen. We move out, at night see....and I'm sneaky. Yeah. Reeeeel sneaky. I could sneak up on a fly with my eyelash.
I can't see good at night, though, see....special not as good as those elves. But I'll do it all the same. So, any you guys are the sneak up ahead types, and see good at night, I'm with ya if you're with me on it."
"I also ghost out like that, though. Ye may not see me ghost out either, or you may, but I'm coming back around on them, I'm not dogging off on you. You can wager on it, I won't dog out on a real gent type shooter. I ain't scared off any these points, these elfy types. I'm coming back around of them, wager."
Myself and the halfling are skilled at stealth but our vision is no better than your own. However, the Kreen look to move with grace and they are known for their excellent nightvision. I think we can make a good group up of stealthy scouts.
"I do not know Kirrish, let me take a look,..."
Examining the tattoos, Faindrac is certain they are more than just skin art. As he concentrates on a specific tattoo, something awakens inside of it, and the drawing writhes on the dead skin, then quickly wriggles up Faindrac’s fingers and onto the back of his hand, looking for all the world as if it had always been there.
Faindrac is positive now they are psionic items which can be activated by Will and touch .
Surveying the batch one final time, Faindrac is fairly certain by the jittery feeling and speed lines the one on his hand grants increased movement velocity, while the other two seem to have something to do with healing (a screaming man lays hands upon a fallen comrade) , and falling safely (Tigone leaping into husk pillows), respectively.
Myself and the halfling are skilled at stealth but our vision is no better than your own. However, the Kreen look to move with grace and they are known for their excellent nightvision. I think we can make a good group up of stealthy scouts.
Here, good that. You pit fought. Gladiator. I fought in different pits. Alleygames. Sprat dogfights.
When we close on em, make a loud showy gladiatory stink about it. Lossa popping off at the mouth. Grunting. Get the mob watching you, gladiator; swat you do.And wager on Schenker, getting up hind of them, while the mob's watching you.
Aye, and Aso. I know you can make loud as well as quiet-like.
The party rests throughout the day, keeping a sharp eye out for predators, bandits, or worse, each other. As the warmth of the day climbs, transitioning from life giving glow to killing heat, the stifling nature of the shelter wears on the party, and they continue bickering laconically. Even the Thri-Kreen, who do not require sleep, laze about, preserving their strength.
Holdrus, requiring less rest than the non-Kreen members of the group, spends the better portion of the day fashioning a few last minute stone weapons. While the additional day of rest allows the party to regain much needed vigor , it also places them dangerously low on provisions. Fortunately, Kirrish’s careful tending of the kank is beginning to bear fruit, as its metasoma swells tellingly.
The sun finally begins to descend in the sky, and you thank anything that will listen, because you can’t take another second of human sweat, sodden bird feathers, and whatever the hell it is the Kreen keep spraying. Perhaps tonight you will be able to find an area more compatible with rich desert life, maybe even a desert hare or twenty.
As the group begins to decamp, the wind picks up ominously, carrying with it a susurration. Strange echoes and heat-dazed imagery are common in the vast empty plains, and you pay it no mind; until something truly unusual transpires. In low undertones, the whispers make a request: “Water.”
Try as you might to shake the madness from your head, the low undertones continue. The whispering only grows louder, until it surrounds your camp, murmuring gibberish in a hundred tongues.
“Water.”
“So Thirsty.”