Round 4, sea scorpions
(22) With practiced grace, Rhys' hand dips to his side and slides another green-and-gray banded crossbow bolt out of the quiver and nocks it into his weapon. He swings it around towards the lobstrosity couched between Vincenzo, Nichelle and Aerys, smoothly pulling the trigger. The bolt pierces it's carapace, killing the scorpion.
(18) The last sea scorpion, ignorant of the others fate, continues to attack Tragershen.
It seems as though the creature is barely trying to hit the wizard...
(18) Tragershen quickly grabs the still unconcious monkey while being wary of the beasts claws. As he reaches for the monkey the scorpion stabs with it's stinger again.
The creature finally strikes true and a muscle clenching poison injects to the elf's leg.
(18) Vincenzo brings his boot down on the crustacean making sure it is dead.
(15) Nichelle stumbles backwards over the body of Jask. The man is wearing the tattered remains of his prisoner out. His hands are manacled behind his back and he lays face down in the sand.
(12) Blackleaf lifts his ax into his hands, feeling the welcoming wood and the feathers and beads as the brush his forearm. with a roar he moves to the closest creature and brings his axe to bare . "To Pharasma with you!" he roars while cutting it in two. Pinkish ooze spreads from the corpse onto the sand.
Rhys gazes down sorrowfully at the missing nub of his middle finger, still spewing blood and crusted with sand. Sighing, he reaches down and tears a strip off of his sleeve and binds up the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain.
"Is everyone all right? Does anyone need any immediate attention?"
He begins combing the beach with his eyes, noting the conditions of the castaways and trying to make sure nobody is suffocating in the sand or surf.
Blackleaf shakes the gore off his axe and looks around the area "I'll see that bastards heart cut from his chest!" his swears and kicks at the pile looking for his gear or anything usable 'Are the others dead?" he yells to Rhys
"Dead," he affirms, nodding. "They had stingers. If they're anything like scorpions, they'll have venom. Was anyone stung?"
Rhys rifles through his knowledge of the jungles to try and find out if he knows anything about these sea scorpions.
1d20+7
Regardless of their size, all share one thing in common—an aggressive attitude. Eurypterids lash out at anything that might be food, and once they’ve tasted prey, are single-minded in their pursuit. Although quite at home in the open sea, most eurypterids are capable of scuttling around on land and can exist out of water indefinitely.
Many eurypterids have stingers with a toxic poison that can cause paralysis if left untreated.
"Mm...that's right...Eurypterids. We got lucky. Some of them can spit."
He turns to Nichelle as she approaches the gear pile, nodding to her. Adrenaline and the pain of his missing finger seems to have wiped away all of the embarrassment he displayed on the deck of the ship.
"It's good to see you're up and walking, Miss. Once you get yourself oriented, please check to see if anybody else is wounded and needs medical treatment. I think the Elf there was stung. I need to tend to him before the paralytic toxins set in."
Slipping across the beach, he drops to one knee next to Tragershen.
"Sir, not to point out the obvious, but you've been stung by a sea scorpion. Left untreated, your body could lock up completely. I need to drain the poison. This might be a little painful, so please brace yourself."
Rhys takes a crossbow bolt from his quiver in the absence of his knife and sets the point against the puffy, swollen wound that the tip of the sea scorpion's stinger has left. He slices it open from end to end, then drops the bolt in the sand, swiftly clamping his hands on either end of the wound and twisting painfully, almost cruelly, trying to force the poison out of the wound. He grits his teeth against the pain in his diminished right hand.
Rhys is able to cleanse Tragershen of the poison affecting him. After a bit the wound stops burning and he get's no worse.
Looking at the sand it is clear that everyone has been dragged from the ocean. Some of the lighter people have been dragged farther up the sand, such as Nichelle and Gelik. The other five castaways are sitting upright and rubbing their heads and faces trying to get over being sick themselves.
Glancing around the beach it is easy to see it is a small cover. The innermost portion of the beach is only a half mile from the other edge of the island. To the south, a wall of green rises in the form of a dense jungle filled with a cacophony of life. To the east and west, ragged
arms of jagged rocks reach out to embrace a wave-tossed cove, while to the north, the waters of the sea surge and churn between the beach and a line of razor-sharp rocks.
After making sure Tragershen is doing well, he pats the man on the shoulder companionably, then rises without a word and walks to the shore. He spends maybe three minutes roughly scrubbing the stump of his finger, cleaning it of sand and grit so it won't get infected, then re-binds it with the crude bandage from his shirt sleeve. He flexes his fist experimentally, wincing at it, then mumbles to himself in Infernal.
"Hmm...could have been worse. Could have lost something I only have one of. At least I have nine spares. At least I have my life, and at least everyone else is all right..."
Rising to his feet, Rhys paces up the beach to his gear pile, retrieving his traveling satchel, his sword (which he promptly straps to his back), and his violin, which is swung to the small of his back. He checks his gear to make sure he has everything he boarded the ship with at Bloodcove, taking mental tally.
"I don't want to make wild accusations here," he says, switching back into exotically-lilted, fanged Common. "But just before I lost consciousness back on the Jenivere, I saw Ieana whisper something to Captain Kovacks while we were all dropping to sleep. They--quite calmly--stoop up and left the galley. They didn't look too terribly surprised to see their dinner guests dropping to sleep like drunken sailors at port."
He sighs and shakes his head. Reaching around his neck, he removes the broad, dark green scarf he wears as a mask, wrings it out and wraps it back around his face, hiding the lower half of his features.
"In any case, I think our first order of business should be to make sure everyone is safe and whole, and then figure out where we are. I think we'll operate better with hot food in our bellies, and since I've spent years in Mwangi and know the dangers, I volunteer to go hunting for the group when the time comes."
His yellow eyes dart down to the sand, and he sighs again. For a moment, he looks distant, sad. Almost vulnerable.
Rhys listens to Nichelle's advice, nodding slowly. He notes the flimsiness of her wet clothing (and the tattoo) with a surprised cough, glancing away, his face darkening with a deep red blush. Mumbling some excuse or another.
Turning to move away from the water, he fixes his eyes on the sky, chewing on his bottom lip. He turns his gaze earthward and sweeps the features of the land, trying figure out where they are while simultaneously racking his brains to determine if the non-pointy ends of the sea scorpion 'lobstrosities' are edible.
To determine where in Mwangi the party has been abandoned.
To determine if the Sea Scorpions can be eaten.
To give a quick once-over of the area and notice anything out-of-place.
Blackleaf shrugs and in accented common says "I am no healer, But yes food and shelter is something that needs addressed " he digs though the pile finding his meager belongings, placing his axes at his belt and daggers at his boots
He looks to Rhys "The others can take care of these folks, they will live of be dinning in Pharasma's hall this night. You know the land I will fallow your lead and see if we can find a better place to camp then the open. The open is never good"
With that he moves off toward the jungle to search for tracks
Perception to find tracks of animals
Survival for tracks if found
It only take a few moments of scanning the northern vista to spot a familiar looking ship. This is the Jenivere, listing to port, partially submerged, and with her hull a gaping ruin as she leans against a jagged cliff side among several sharp rocks.
Even a cursory glance is enough to confirm that the Jenivere will never sail again. Only the fortuitous presence of a sharp ridge of rock near the side of the sheer cliff wall has prevented the wreck from sinking entirely into the sea, for only the ship’s stern seems to have survived the wreck. This portion is wedged at an angle between the cliff and the rocks, and each wave shakes and tosses the wreck alarmingly. It won’t be long before the constant pounding of the waves dislodges the wreck and allows the hungry sea to claim the last of this once-fine ship.
With the tide low, there is a path of slippery rocks leading along the western cliff that goes straight to the deck of the ship. A small drop from the rocky path would land a person on it.
A few minutes of examination of the sky, the weather, the surrounding scenery, and some common-sense deductions about what was known about the course, is enough to establish that this island is Smuggler’s Shiv.
The eurypterids could be eaten if there was a pot big enough to cook them in. There are no supplies of that sort within the pile of gear.
With that he moves off toward the jungle to search for tracks
There are no tracks in the sand except the occasional sea scorpion drag mark.
"Should we search the ship? Maybe something useful there or or leave it be wont be long perhaps till it sinks to the depths" he says with a tone that says he does not care either way.
Rhys shakes his head. "No, my Elf friend. Let me take the hunting myself. You're the strongest fighter here, and they'll need you in case something makes its way out of the jungle."
He turns to address everyone else.
"Judging by where we've landed, and where the Jenivere was when we lost consciousness, we've washed ashore--or rather, been neatly placed--on an island called Smuggler's Shiv. Let's use this time wisely. Try and get those who haven't awoken yet on their feet. We need to be up and moving before nightfall to find a more sheltered position to make a base camp. The Shiv is not easily reached by ships...I...I think we're going to be here for awhile. We'll need to establish a base camp."
He sighs again, then turns and claps Blackleaf gently on the shoulder.
"Protect them, my friend. Please. I'll be back with as much food as I can, as soon as I can."
Rhys turns and vanishes into the jungle, pulling his hood over his head and drawing his crossbow.
EDIT: Rhys will return with enough food for himself and seven other people.
The rest of the castaways are up and about having recovered from their illness. Jask is standing near Sasha looking into her eyes.
"I am sorry to intrude miss, but judging by the size of our pupils. The smell on our breath, and waxy palor, we are all suffering from severe oil of taget poisoning."
"Poisoning!" she replies, "Well, at least it's not my first...where are we anyways? It feels like it's ninety degrees and the sun isn't even fully up."
Gelik who still looks ill stumbles nearby, "If you would shut up, maybe you would have heard Rhys when he said we're on Smuggler's Shiv. Has anyone heard of this place before? Is there a city or port?"
Ishirou is sitting on his knees carefully attending to his weapons and armor with a small stiff brush. While Aerys got up long enough to check over her person she has collapsed back into a stupor.
When Tragershen comes back to his senses, he'll thank Rhys for his quick action.
Tragershen seems a little slow to adapt to the new surroundings. He collects his gear from the beach, carefully going through his documents to make sure everything is still in place, still protected by their seals.
Vincenzo removes his armored coat from his shoulders, revealing his multitude of torso-spanning semi-Varisian tattoos in the process. He spends time gathering up his equipment from the pile of items. As others awaken, he aids them in gathering up their own equipment, listening to the others talk.
Before Rhys leaves, he grasps his holy symbol of Desna in his hand and prays for invigoration to stay with the wounded until he can properly treat their wounds.
To Blackleaf, and by extension, the party:
"We should get to that ship before the tide takes it off of the ridge. Get what we can. Probably the last time we see a ship for a long while, and I'd like to have every possible supply. Probably the last time we'll see worked dry wood as well. No need to panic, however, we should probably try to find a place to set up a shelter or the sun will eat us alive."
To Jask, and by extension, the party:
"You're the prisoner? I don't think you can do much with your hands behind your back. Can someone take these off of him, perchance?"
Knowledge Geography
Knowledge History
Knowledge Local
Aerys comments from the ground as the healing washes over her, "Oh..that's delightful...mmm..." She then reaches down to a pocket in her pants and sips from a flask hidden there. Gelik storms over to her side, "You little drunk harlot! Like a fish needin' water."
She looks up at him innocently, "What? I need it...go away runt."
Jask speaks to Vincenzo, "Yes, I am a prisoner, though truly innocent. This is great! Those pigs would have tortured and killed me for nothing, but now I am free!" The man seems giddy to have been shipwrecked, "These shackles are well made, I think only the key will open them and the Captain kept that. Please if you can find it, I am a holy man of Nethys, much like yourself my friend. I can help cleanse wounds and water for everyone."
Lady Aerys. I am not one to judge your vices. But let me draw something to your attention. We may be here for days, or longer. That flask will not suffice for your needs I would hazard. Some of us are looking to go to the ruined ship for any useful supplies. If you would go with us, you may be able to secure a more extensive supply.
Tragershen will slap his familiar’s back end, scolding him You knew quite well where it was and that it would help! Having spanked his monkey for its laziness, Tragershen will go over to Rhys. Thank you again for tending to my poisoning earlier. Wagnim here should have brought it to you, but in this pouch he says, indicating one of four at his belt is an assortment of supplies useful for tending to injuries and illness. Feel free to delve into it any time you think it will help you.
"Trust me, I'm not a fan of the drink, but it's the only thing that helps," at his suggestion of joining them she recoils, "Are you kidding me! That thing looks like it'll crash into the waves at any moment. A braver fool than me will have to search that wreck. I do hope you find some supplies though...we're going to need them to setup a camp."
Quietly, Tragershen will ask Lady, is there something that ails you that you need the drink? Perhaps I can help? My intent is not to intrude, but it looks like those of us here who have survived will need to rely on each other. I understand if it is a private matter and will not mention it again if that is your wish.
"You're right, it's non of your business, elf. Now please, leave me be," she turns from Tragershen unwilling to talk further about her alcoholism.
Gelik whos clothes appears to be perfectly clean and free of sand and water stands beside Tragershen, "Bet ya a gold she'll do tricks for any rum you find in the ship. Like a dog for a bone, if ya get my drift."
Vincenzo retains his doubt, and plans to maybe try to figure out exactly what he was wanted for from the other castaways before he sets Jask free. He'd never met an evil man who wouldn't claim he was innocent at the drop of a hat. Praying for a miracle in order to determine if Jask was lying would also be of good order, though, he doubted Desna would give him any more luck today than she already had.
Vincenzo nods and stands up, addressing the people assembled. "Alright. From what I remember from what I heard back in the bar in Port Peril, Smuggler's Shiv is notorious for being a haunted, cursed island, covered by errant ship wrecks. In years past they attempted to establish a colony on the island's southwest shore, starting with the construction of a lighthouse-- right now, I'm not sure of what bearing on the island we're at, but I have a feeling that our eventual goal should be that light house. If we can light it, I have a feeling it'd do well to attract people to the island than, well..." He scratches his head for a moment. The bar man and him had laughed about it, and he'd advised him not to visit the Shiv. I can't say I tried. I think I was sleeping in my soup, though, apparently, I make an excellent swimmer when asleep.
"Another rumor I heard is that a colony of cannibals live on the island, old remnants of a Chelish navy ship gone mad from being abandoned here for so long, who scour the beaches specifically for people who shipwreck to add to their cook pots. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that if we were to just light a bonfire on the beach, no one would come to save us due in part to the cannibal rumors. They'd probably just think we were the cannibals worshiping some dark god or cooking up the last unlucky boatmen we found, and steer right on by." Vincenzo smiles at the crowd, hoping to assuage any fears that have come up now that he's mentioned they may suddenly be the most dangerous game for a group of man-eating barbarians.
"If we can make it to the lighthouse on the southwestern shore, I have a good feeling that there may be a collection of supplies left by the colonists as well. We may be able to find shelter there, but, unless we're within a day's walk, we may want to find somewhere safe to rest for now. Finding a safe and easily guarded campsite is the first step; the second step is salvaging what we can find in the remains of the Jenivere. The third step is to begin to explore and to try to figure out exactly where we are on the island. Once we've established this, we can start prodding southward towards the lighthouse, make it to the lighthouse, light the lighthouse, and then it's just a matter of waiting until someone sees it all lit up, knows the rumors, figures something's wrong about half-mad cannibals knowing how to operate a lighthouse and comes to see if the cannibals have recruited a lighthouse operator. Then, we all hitch a ride, maybe fight through some opportunistic pirates ready to pillage some shipwrecked shmucks, steal their boat if we have to or have a pleasant ride if we don't, and then we're all back in Eleder in time for tea."
"We're all going to have to work together, so, when Rhys returns from his errand we're going to act rather quickly. Let's all gather our things and prepare to move."
As he finishes his speech, he walks over to "If you can't walk, I'll carry your weight for now, but I'm not burying you on this island. If you don't have your wits about you, you might die. Please, do not try to kill yourself in my presence, miss." He offers her a hand to stand up.
"And you," Vincenzo says, turning to Gelik, "Insults aren't doing us any good here; Please, try to refrain." He's strained slightly by the fact that Gelik seems to be targeting the women with insults, but isn't about to cast him out or denounce him in front of the others. They need as many hands as possible, especially the annoying ones. Someone has to check the bushes for tigers, he muses with a smile.
After Vincenzo's speech the other castaways gather their things. They don't look like their thrilled to be leaving the beach and glance about nervously. Even the stern faced Ishirou appears shaken by the events of the wreck and recent revelation of rumors. "I think a camp would be best..." he mutters. Gelik shuts up but when Vincenzo turns his back he makes a face at the cleric. He's clearly displeased with the criticism of his jokes but quickly drops it.
As the sun reaches it's full height it burns away the cool morning air. The temperature quickly rises to over a hundred degrees. It won't be long before it will be too hot to perform strenuous activity without suffering the effects of extreme heat. Sasha and Jask have taken shelter at the edge of the jungle under the shade of palms.
Rhys has traveled roughly a mile through the jungle gathering many edible fruits and plants. With the properly trained eye there is no shortage of food or water on the island. He walks around the northern side of a large hill, the top of which concealed by trees. As he rounds the western side of a loud hissing comes from the ferns before him. A large red and black striped snake slides before him it is nearly 7ft in length and assumes an aggressive posture opening its mouth to display a pair of dripping fangs. So far the majority of wildlife has fled from him or he's needed to shoot. This one looks like it might be hunting him.
Addressing Nichelle:
"Everything off of the boat. I mean, anything you can carry that isn't a luxury item. And probably even that, too. We'll all go when Rhys returns, I imagine, and once we find some shelter for now, like I said-- just something to keep the sun off of our backs. Then I figure we can find a suitable place and build a camp."
Rhys leaps from one obstacle to the next, scooping up potables and victuals with practiced ease, moving with the grace of a bounding gazelle. He pauses at the bottom of the hill, narrowing his eyes. His pointed ears twitch at the sound of the hissing, his pupils slitting, and he turns to face the snake.
"Hmm. Clever girl."
He is no stranger to the dangers of the jungle. But he has, thus far, collected only enough food to feed three and a half people, not including himself. He would need a bit more, and the snake would do nicely. In a normal situation he would run, but this...well, no is the time to shine. His tail begins to twitch, and he runs his tongue along his fangs.
"C'mon, then. Let's see which one of us leaves alive."
He dances back a pace and a half, whipping his crossbow into a ready position and letting one of his heavy, barbed bolts fly.
+1 (BAB), +4 (DEX), +1 (Point-Blank Shot)
+1 (Point-Blank Shot)
EDIT
Two long fangs pierce his shoulder armor drive into the muscle beneath. Poison is shot through the wound but the hunter's internal fortitude holds it off. The snake drops to the ground and coils up to attack again.
Rhys bares his fangs in pain, his tail lashing in anger and frustration.
"I didn't survive the crap on the beach to be killed by you! Not now!"
Dropping his crossbow in the foliage at his feet, he whips his hand over his shoulder and draws his heavy scimitar, the fangs dangling from the hilt clacking together with the speed of his draw. Holding it reversed,he spins it around for the snake's throat.
EDIT
As the sun reaches its peak and the air seems to blister and ripple. The jungle rustles and Rhys steps out of it. In one hand he carries a pack with enough food for for eight people. The other is holding a 7ft long brightly colored headless snake draped over his shoulder and dragging the ground. Ishirou looks at Rhys wide-eyed, "Well done, hunter."
Rhys pants heavily as he emerges from the brush, his tail lashing back and forth to clear the undergrowth from it. His cloak, hood and mask have been removed, cannibalized as makeshift packs to carry all the meat, berries and greens he had foraged, and there are two large, bloody puncture wounds in his shoulder, oozing blood of a crimson so dark it is almost black.
"It was a close one," he says softly. "I was lucky more than anything else. But we'll eat hearty tonight."
Rolling his shoulder with a pained wince, he walks through the camp, casting sweeping glances back and forth until he spots Nichelle.
"Pardon, Miss. I've brought you something."
He reaches into his bag with his whole left hand and drags out the slack-jawed head of the massive dead snake. Its fangs still drip with venom.
"Saw you harvesting the sea scorpion venom. Thought you might like this too."
Vincenzo, upon seeing Rhys's bleeding wound, steps forward.
"Glad to see you made it back. Now, if you would, I'd appreciate it if you let me take a look at that."
Vincenzo rubs his beard with his thumb for a moment, gestures the holy symbol of Desna with his hands combined and presses the shape into Rhys' bleeding wound.
Removing his hand, the wound looks as if he's never been touched, and he feels invigorated.
"Nothing a little help from our friend in the sky can't help. Now that we're back, we're moving. I'll explain exactly how terrible of a situation we're in while we try to find a safe place to rest until the heat stops, and then we're off to salvage what's left of the beautiful boat."
It is currently high-tide but that will recede in about four hours. Which also happens to be when it will be cool enough to really perform any activity.
The ship could be accessed by careful climbing or swimming if someone wanted to go charging off on their own...
Blackleaf shrugs at Rhys "Suit yourself" he says as the other wonders off into the wood. At Vincenzo's words on the ship he just nods [b]"We can scout the ship well enough I guess, and yes shelter is something we must find, cannibals aside things live in that jungle. Things that need to eat"
Blackleaf sits on a pile of crates , sharping his blades and sipping at his water as the others argue like children. After a while he stands
"Bah! Enough of this, I am going for the ship. Anyone that wishes to come do so." he stats simply as he starts off on the path toward the ships wreckage, not really looking to see if anyone comes with him
Acro check if needed
Climb check if needed
Vincenzo watches Blackleaf go, scratching his head. "We'll be here," he says, not one to beg someone to stay.
He hopes he doesn't have to be the one to find his corpse and that he returns safely, though, and prays to Desna for his safe return.
Although the Jenivere's only lifeboat at first seems to be missing, as the barbarian approachs the ship, the fate of this smaller boat becomes clear—it was washed up between the ship and the cliff and was crushed by the action of the waves smashing the Jenivere against the cliff side. Part of the lifeboat’s bow still lolls about in the surf, attached to a protruding timber by a thick rope, as if someone had moored the boat to the wreck.
Something is in the remains of the lower deck and making a terrible racket. Loud scrapes and clatters come from below. Each wave that hits the ship causes it to shake and push against the cliff. There is only a small hop to the main deck of the ruined ship.
Acro
Attack
Damage
Rhys gives off a low sigh of appreciation as the healing washes over him, and the wounds in his shoulder knit themselves closed.
"Thank you, sir..." He drags his catch over to the gear pile and begins preparing the giant snake for transportation and cooking, keeping an eye on his work. "I see we're missing a few. Everything work out okay?"
Reaching down into his treasure trove, he plucks up a handful of neon-orange berries, swollen with ripeness, and offers them to Vincenzo.
"Here. These should fill your belly and help beat the heat a little. They'll make your tongue sting a little, but some people find it pleasant. It's not dangerous or toxic. I'm going to pass some out to the rest of the crew."
Rising up, he moves from one member of the camp to the other, offering out handfuls of the juicy berries.
The last person he comes to is Ishirou, offering him a palmful of the succulent foodstuffs.
"Here. These'll help with the thirst. I brought back some drinking water too, but let's go easy on it until we find a large enough spring to support all of us."
I do believe you are right. The impulsiveness of those two has trouble written all over it. Shall we? Tragershen and Wagnim will follow after the others, albeit a little more slowly and with more care, wary of scorpions, snakes and any other menaces that may be lurking.