Malakar sighs and moves in to attack.
Assassin Vine Attacks: 1-2 = Brannart | 3-4 = Sho | 5-6 = Malakar
Brannart is already in reach of the berries when Sho shouts her warning. The veteran's instincts and muscle memory kick in as a vine lashes toward him. Brannart plants his foot and raises his sword to meet the attack. The severed vine drops to the ground and twitches for a moment.
Before Brannart can recover from the swing, another heavy vine crashes into him, almost knocking him to the jungle floor. Brannart feels its strength as it coils around him like a snake and begins to squeeze.
As Brannart becomes wrapped in the vine, grasses and plants from the forest floor climb out from their earthy tomb and begin to wrap around everybody.
Fenna finds herself caught, but she pulls herself forward toward Brannart a little. She looks for something that seems like the central point from where the vines emerge in order to stab at the plant, but her spear finds no purchase.
Vexas curses as the vines wrap his bare feet. He begins trudging towards the creatures while drawing his rapier.
Brannart swings his sword at the plant, but wrapped up as he is he cannot get good leverage.
Malakar makes an attack at the nearest plant.
As plants and grasses grow and envelope his companions, Brannart feels the vine tighten around him. He hears ribs snap beneath his chest. This should hurt, but the veteran is more concerned on the lack of oxygen he can now breath in and the taste of crimson as he begins to choke up blood. His vision starts to blur while he watches his companions futilely strike out at the carnivorous plant.
Another vine lashes out at Malakar, but the Druid, wise in the movement of nature, ducks low and blocks the attack with his shield.
Brannart has a flash of regret for his actions, most specifically using up his Potion of Enlarge Person earlier. But he presses on.
It can move. Had we left it alone it would have killed colonists sooner or later.
He swings his sword again, hoping that his foe will fall before he does.
Vexas advances on the line of savage vines and pokes at the one grappling his teammate.
See how ineffective his sword is, the halfling sheathes it.
Fenna continues her oratory, though the exhortations for everyone to do their best are getting more strident. She plunges her spear into a place that looks thick, and manages to wiggle free.
"Fenna!" Brannart calls out as he is caught tight in the vine's grip. Perhaps this motivates the bard...
"Damn these things! Now I know what it is to be a sheep in the nettles.
"Rah!"
Brannart shakes his vision clear and finds the strength to free his arm and strike out at the plant. As his sword cleaves through the vine, he wills his voice to shout to Fenna. Is it for survival alone or longing for the continuation of her embrace? The veteran does not know why he selected her, out of all of his companions, but he shouts for her.
Fenna hears her name and responds. Noticing a crack in the main stem created by Vexas’s rapier, she focuses on that spot and jabs her spear through the stem, crushing its integrity. Malakar notices the opening, and with a swing of his scimitar, severs the vine from the main stem. Vines and Brannart crash to the ground with a thud and shaking of the ground. The veteran feels the coiled vine go slack and air return to his lungs once again. As he lays there sucking in air and spitting out blood, the pain in his chest enters the forefront of his perception. He looks down at his chest and views the crushed-in armor around it.
Brannart pulls himself to his knees.
"Thanks. Ow."
He cleans and sheathes his sword, then stands unsteadily and picks up his ranseur again.
Fenna relaxes with a grateful sigh and picks up where Malakar finished, healing Brannart some more. But not much more.
"Oh, that was disappointing. You alright Brannart?"
"I've been better, Fenna, but thank you. I can continue." He nods to Malakar as well.
"I hope there are no more of those things."
You watch as a small blue, black and white bird swoops down and grabs a berry. It flies away unharmed.
Fenna asks Malakar "so are the berries fine to eat now?"
"I have heard tales that the berries taste is dependent on what the vines have been eating, but that they are usually bitter. So they are safe but may not be pleasant. Only thing to do is to try 'em"
Malakar will pop a berry in his mouth to form an opinion.
The berry offers an intense gush of bitter juice that forces a puckered expression on the Undine's face.
When she gets Malakar's explanation Fenna declines.
"That's nasty. I'll take a pass."
Vexas chuckles at Malakar's reaction.
Hmm, yes, I think that face says it all. But, we should still collect a healthy bunch of them for Nymbleth. Were there any more plants on the list?
Brannart decides against tasting any berries. He limps along.
"After we get the plants maybe we could see we can find a new trail back to the colony that avoids all this? It would be good if people could move around outside the colony's boundaries without having to be heavily armed and double-digit group sizes."
The sun is in the west but still several hand spans above the horizon when you arrive back in Talmandor’s Bounty. Looking around the colony, you begin to realize subtle changes that have been overlooked due to your persistent adventures on the island. The twin barracks have been turned into store fronts while small structures and stands have been built opposite the barracks forming the colony’s first Merchant District.
You find Alba and Nymbleth’s alchemy shop in the far corner of the northern barracks. A dark wooden sign above reads in thick, yellow lettering bordered in green Talmandor’s Elixirs. A painting of a gold-colored eagle is portrayed between the words. Stocked shelves of vials, bottles, jugs, and decanters line the coarse, wooden walls while a simple, yet sturdy, middle table holds a full alchemical set currently brewing a blue-white concoction. Alba stands on the farside of the table in deep concentration as she makes slight adjustments by turning a knob or adding a powder.
Nymbleth smiles while he looks over the plants you brought him, then he comes across the berries. ”Assassin Vine berries”, he states excitedly. ”These can make a very fine wine. Well, once it ages for a few decades. I hope this did not cause you much trou . . . “. Nymbleth’s voice trails off as he sees Brannart’s armor. ”Oh my Brannart.” the Tiefling says as his mouth pulls to the right causing his lower lip to curl. ”Here,” Nymbleth reaches into the satchel hanging at his side and produces a clear bottle containing a dark blue fluid. ”drink this. Won’t fix the armor, but will sure help your insides.”
Oh, we won't lie, it was a bit more dicey than we expected. But, what do they say? What doesn't kill you...
The thought trails off as Vexas looks about the alchemical shop.
Hmm, I thought I heard something. Oh well.
Brannart looks at the bottle.
"Thanks, Nymbleth."
He drinks it, then sets out to find an armorer or blacksmith who can help get his breastplate back into shape.
Fenna is impressed and pleased by all the progress she sees.
"Heya Nymbleth, Alba! Things are really coming along aren't they? It all looks really good!"
Fenna tells Nymbleth "no more trouble than the usual trip out" as an inside joke for her friends.
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If we can find some tools, I can try to repair your armor, Brannart, if we have some time.
Sho sensitive ears pick sounds of ruckus not too far away
Sounds like troubles... One man with only one shoe on, with green eyes and a horse named Barney, and another with bad breath and grey hair. Just kidding. But maybe we should bring some peace before things go to far.
Vexas snaps to attention when Sho hears something. He thought he had been then doubted himself.
Troubles, where? Lead the way, Sho!
While looking around the shop, Vexas notices that he now understands many of the runes transcribed on bottles. By examining certain runes in combination with others, the new Wizard is able to piece together the purpose of certain potions.
Brannart downs the potion offered by Nymbleth. The warrior feels the liquid course through his body, mending tissue, repairing bone, and lessening the bruising on his body.
Nymbleth nods to the veteran as he moves away to find the smithy. Brannart recalls having brief conversations with Luetin Calwick, the stocky blacksmith, during the trip over on Peregrine. He seemed friendly enough, but had a way about him where it seemed he was always sizing people up. As he enters the colony’s main square, he hears Sho mention something about trouble. Then he sees it. A small crowd has formed a loose circle around two men standing aboutt twenty feet apart from each other. The blacksmith, Luetin with his hands clenched into fists, is having a loud argument with Harcourt Carrolby, the horse breeder.
”Ramona gave me rights to the house if the clerics did not want it. You know this to be true ya stupid fop. Now go back to your horses and leave the matter be, before I squish ya,” Luetin shouts at Harcourt.
Harcourt, hands crossed behind his back, responds calmly and articulate, with a straight back and raised nose, ”Why would someone like you need such accommodations? You already have a mat to sleep on in your smithy.”
The argument continues and appears to be escalating as the crowd offers jeers and insults, taking one side or the other.
Fenna quickens her pace toward the two men and shouts over toward the crowd.
"Hey! Hey! What's going on here? What's all this about?
"I hear it too show lets find out what is happening!"
Upon seeing the squabble Malakar knows he is not suited for negotiating the fight however he readies his nature magic in case things get physical to try and keep the two apart.
The crowd quiets upon Fenna’s arrival. Many look down to the ground and slowly back away, essentially removing themselves from the circle of onlookers.
Luetin, back toward Fenna, turns as he hears her voice. His sourness turns into a semi-lusty grin of uneven and stained teeth. His eyes venture up and down over her smooth and fitted leather armor. His fists unclench slightly as he looks from Fenna to Harcourt, then back to Fenna.
"The priests didn't want the house by the smithy. Ramona gave me first rights to the house if the priests didn't want it so I could be close to the smithy and keep an eye on it. My children will be coming over with the next ship, and I'll need the house. It's mine, it is. Ramona said so, but this fop is trying to make claim and move in. Not happenin'." The blacksmith pauses for a moment as his own words seem to make him angry. He puffs out his chest, shakes his head, and wags a semi-clenched fist at Harcourt,
Luetin is gross, but his telling of events regarding the house match what she remembers.
"Yeah, that's how I remember things."
Fenna looks at Carrolby. He's not a favorite person of hers either lately.
Why are you laying claim to the house then Harcourt?"
"Gentlemen... citizens... we will need to work together to prosper here.
And we will need to be honest."
He moves to stand beside Fenna.
"Fenna has the right of it, Carrolby.
And Luetin, you know that all you need do is speak the truth, as you are doing, and you will prevail. Ease up. There is more call for laughter than anger - Carrolby's case is nonsense and everybody knows it.
Carrolby, would this house even have a decent stable? Being near the smithy and all? Surely you can't want your horses disturbed by the clang of hammer and anvil. This colony is the place to build the fine house of your dreams. Expansive property, a nice barn, maybe by the orchards."