"Any ideas what who whispers?" (knifes up, probably vainly) "This is me up the wrong alley."
Rousing from a deep sleep in the hole he dug under his umbrella just in time to hear the voices; Aso repeats a curse he has heard sworn oh so many times by the fat bigjobs who lost their coin betting against him, "We're f... f... f... f~&#ed!"
"What is that?" asks Issiki. "Are these dryland spirits?"
<click squak>I am a warrior and archer; the bow and arrows will serve me best; daggers are no better than my claws,<chirp> but a sword and sheild would be nice for melee; perhaps one of you flightless things can make leather armor? <Kh Hkck> Water is life, I trade water for armor to prolong my life; bow and arrows to prolong yours.
gm <as stated I will summon water with my spell and purify the food and drink; didnt see that in your previous recant. This will use both of my 0 level spells and help us get out of this exhaustion and fatigue>
<== tries to get Zuko's attention
will approach and ask Zuko
"I wish to have private conversation with you Priest; do you assent?"
gm <as stated I will summon water with my spell and purify the food and drink; didnt see that in your previous recant.
The whispers don’t just surround the camp; they come from above and below now as well. Though it seems impossible to locate the source, they don’t appear dangerous as of yet, beyond the harm done to your sanity.
The voices grow more insistent:
“Water.”
“Wet the sand.”
“Give us life.”
If Kirrish witnesses the migrating tattoos that Faindriac found, he wants nothing to do with them. Bad elf magic is nothing he wants a part of. They're Faindriac's (or anyone else's) now.
After the wind starts whispering, his back hunches and his antennae begin to twitch in a most worried way. He keeps the kank close, perhaps hastily beginning to tie a harness for it.
Worried suggestion: We go. Now now now. No wait whisperer, no wait dry throats. Get water elsewhere.
Kirrish runs to rouse anyone else that needs help getting a move on, occasionally stopping to draw a small pattern in the sand with a "foot" or chittering rhythmically to himself in a superstitious attempt to ward off evil magic.
Aso points violently in the direction which the else have been supposed to travel. "G... g... g..." He growls. "Let's g... g... g... g... frackin' GO!"
Agreed, my little friend, we need to go.
*Holdrus turns and follows the halfling, keeping pace with him.*
"hrrrm.....aye, move her on....."
Schenker moves out with Holdrus, Aso, and whoever else, knifed up in both hands.
"Yes-yes. Go go go. This all very strange."
Skarsnikt joins as the party moves out, head swinging around and antennas twitching wildly as he tries to locate the source of the whispering voices.
Radik's eyes burn like two violet flames in the darkness. As he turns to follow the departing group, the taciturn fighter uses his tiny flint razor to make a second tiny cut on his palm, next to the first. He watches for a second as the blood soaks into the sand, then picks up his pace, keeping up with the others, but several paces away.
<== tries to get Zuko's attention
will approach and ask Zuko
"I wish to have private conversation with you Priest; do you assent?"
"Kha-Chik-Chik-Ka, give me a moment then we can have that conversation." Zuko says, as he test the weight and balance of his new weapon. Taking a couple of practice swings, Zuko then executes a kata, striking high and low then coming to rest with the weapon raised above him.
"Now what is it you wish to talk about?"
Faindriac offers to instruct any who are interested in the tattoos in their use. Explaining that one must have at least a potential for manipulating 'the Way'. If none none step forward to claim them now, he will keep them in his belt pouch till later. He decides not to try adopting any more tattoos himself until he learns more about them.
As the sun sets, and the whispers begin, Faindriac suddenly seems to be most motivated in getting on the trail of their former captors.
"I've not a talent for stealth mr Shenker." Faindriac picks up the thread of an earlier conversation. "But if it's a distraction you need when battle is engaged, I believe I can promise you that their attention shall be focused elsewhere." He grins, but looks over his shoulder nervously to see if the whispers have faded with distance. He sees Radik rubbing his palm, but moving out with the others.
Got 22 for KNowledge Arcana, and 18 for Knowledge Psionic HERE
"Hrrmmm....Mr. Faindriac...them skinscribbles....the healy one ought go to someone who can't fight so much, so as they can come patch a feller up who can keep slicing at it. And that falling scribble, that should ought to go to a feller who, unlike me, ain't gonna be too good on climbing up a wall.
Come of it, wager I bet the feathree one (points to the aaracockra) might could use it. I bet that one gets hurt way up high, that scribbley come in real nice and handy......hrrmmmm...."
(guess this convo woulda gone down during the day in the sauna, not when we've got the thirsty whispers jabbering around our campsite.)
As the whispers start...."any idea what this is? I take it my brain's cooked, but every else hears it too. 'water....water....thirsty...' wa wa wa, ye squawky pap, jine the club. Yer dead, so what good's water ya!"
MalaKi moves out with the rest of the group.
Kirrish is going to use his Know Direction power to figure out which way we have to head in relation to the closest landmark, be that Raam or something else. Then, he'll direct everyone toward it, likely with himself and the other kreen in front. Hiding right now may not be a great idea if he's leading everyone out of trouble.
MalaKi tries his hand at learning something about the whispering voices (first roll in each category), locating more favorable terrain (second roll in each category), and tracking the elves. I think he can take 20 on that giving him an unmodified check of 30.
Knowledge (local) 1d20+5=24, 1d20+5=17
Knowledge (nature) 1d20+8=21, 1d20+8=28
Survival 1d20+8=15, 1d20+8=12
Survival (track) 1d20+10=18
PS MalaKi can be very sneaky.
EDIT: Zuko is correct about the us having a map.
MalaKi votes for following the long eared sand running kankersuckers. We may not be able to catch them but they may lead us to some resources? I think MalaKi should be able to navigate by the stars using his survival skills if we need to do that.
For easy reference here is The Map.
Yeah, Kirrish isn't huge on maps. He'll also try to pick up the filthy elves' tracks.
Survival: Track= 1d20+7=17+2 favored enemy (elf)= 19.
MalaKi strikes up a conversation with Kirrish. Using speech, pantomime, and sand drawings MalaKi tries to show Kirrish the groups location in relation to Raam. MalaKi also tries to question Kirrish (and any others listening) about a region known as “The Dragons Bowl”. The map shows what looks like water there.
"Hrrrmmm....catching them elves...improbable. If they wind it that we're tailing them, they'll lead us round in circles until we're zaustered then ambush us and take us to Raam in fetters as was originally planned. I also don't want to find out that that water in the dragon's bowl is poisonous. I think there must be some reason none of those roads on that map don't, like, go there. I think I was a merchantman, I'd head there if it was posh. Raam might be a hussy, but I reckon she's a wet hussy."
Kirrish will confer with the thin-shell about possible courses, growing ever more nervous about the voices.
I'm not sure if he knows anything about the Dragon's Bowl, since he's not from this area originally. I made a knowledge: nature roll to see. 1d20+4=17
If that's a success:
If that's a failure:
At Shenker's suggestion, Kirrish bobs his head. Agree: City dweller wise declaration. Want hunt long-ear sandwalker, no quarry to long-ear sandwalker.
"Aye....we can always come back on them points. Always. I'm cocked for that, I'd like a proper more bit of shanks firstly."
"R... r... r... Raam. Aso needs a b... b... b... frackin' blade."
Whenever the voices cease, and oblivious to the conferences around him about where to go, Aso wanders apart from but in the same general direction as the rest and mutters to himself repetitively.
"Break the l... l... locks, b... b... bigger lock. B... b... break the biglock, superbig l... l... lock. Can't break the locks. Don't break the locks." Grunts and growls follow. Aso seems to be acting out fights he remembers sometimes fallling to the ground and wrestling with ghosts that trouble his damaged mind.
Then, "three months scraping a hole through the f... f... frackin' floor, almost done, almost done, almost, almost. Bigjob d... d... FRACK. B... bigjob decides to move the c... c... cage and he find it!" Aso sneers and swings his club at the sand.
And a little later: "That frackin' d... d... d... dog, it was that frackin' big frackin' dog. Old b... b... bigjob's dog. Didn't think Aso could take it. No, no. NO, they didn't. Arena dog k... k... killed 9 bigjobs they said. F... f... frickin' fatman lost the frackin' money and we had to m... m... m... move."
The autobiographic monologue goes on for some time, recounting increasingly horrendous events.
"Hey, Aso!" Schenker says from 15 feet away or so...."there, allright, then, feller? Sokay, sokay,....there's thing we all got as remembering is not all too grandiose. I'll tell you, though, I'll tell you it'll be allrighty right, so."
"Hey, Aso, you need a hug, feller?"
Small warrior, you are the victor. Your battles are won, and your freedom is here. I will help you fight whatever battles are to come, so let your mind be at ease. We will face the fights together.
"Would someone shut up that yapping dog?"
"Ach! *cough cough* were you raised by a T'liz? Guy's got the willies. Go pud off in your mekillot head!"
"Ach! *cough cough* were you raised by a T'liz? Guy's got the willies. Go pud off in your mekillot head!"
"If I had half a mind to, I'd slit your throat and drink your blood for the water. But I won't, see? I wouldn't want to off-put our mutual acquantences."
"You couldn't kick my ass if I helped you."
"I once killed twenty men with my bare hands. I don't think I'd have any problem dealing with a filthy, scrawny degenerate like you."
"Lies, all lies."
Zuko observes the flaring discussion between Shenker and Radik. To his mind's eye, he can see the influence of the Flame bathing them in its embrace.
Faindriac notes the growing verbal jibes between the two. But seems content to watch for now. Seeing Zuko observing them as well, and then looking at Faindriac, he comments quietly,...
"In my experience, It's only worth worrying about when they STOP insulting each other." He smirks. "THEN we'll either see who is as good as they say, or we'll show them who is REALLY 'top dog'."
Have f... f... fun!
The group mills about, quarrelling over which way to head, but all in agreement not to remain with the disembodied voices.
The whispers chatter and titter, milling about the site where Radik stood moments before, switching to subtle pleas of ”more” and ”ask” before returning to their ubiquitous request for “water.”
Sadly, your captor’s tracks are lost to the hard pack of the road.
As Kirrish focuses, he pulls away from from his body, viewing the area from a great height. He can see the deadly choking silt sea to the southeast, and the equally perilous dragon’s bowl to the northwest. Far to the west, the city of yaramuke fills his exoskeleton with a nameless dread, and the equally distant Forts to the east still ring with a sense of unease following his recent abduction. Three days hard walk to the southwest lays Raam, replete with danger, but also water, civilization and shelter, of a sort. Lastly, at the very northern edge of his new perception are three tiny elves passing Shazlim, en route to the Silver Spring, with a fourth elf not far behind in dogged pursuit.
Faindrac is unable to determine the origin of the voices, though after collaborating with MalaKi, the two are able to piece together enough lore and legend to say with certainly the voices are not unique. Apparently, if a traveler is foolish enough to provide the whispers with sufficient hydration, one may ask questions of the voices, which answer with unearthly accuracy. Tales of such occurrences are rare; as typically the thoughtless traveler’s first question of the voices is, “Where do I find more water?”
I'm not sure if he knows anything about the Dragon's Bowl, since he's not from this area originally.
"Buddy, if you ever kick my ass in a dream you better wake up and apologize."
"So, can anybody think of anything to ask the thirsty yapper flappers? If not, I'm for Raam. I can't think of nothing or anything. Hrrrmmm....."
"So, can anybody think of anything to ask the thirsty yapper flappers? If not, I'm for Raam. I can't think of nothing or anything. Hrrrmmm....."
Seconded..