What are we thinking? Do we want to go rescue these captives?
The gnome shakes his head. "We have no idea where the attackers took our friends. The Collective lost knowledge of them when they left our sphere of awareness. Most likely they are dead, though a few of them are young enough to survive the loss of the constructs. They may still be alive, but we have no way to track them."
Bumpity Bump!
"It seems we've found another fascinating facet of island life, but are no closer to finding and defeating our enemies. Anyone have any theories on what our next move should be?" Krupt asks, studying the creature in the tank in rapt fascination.
Leralt shrugs.
"Rebuild and find a cure for this afflection. Otherwise we have a war on our hands we will not survive."
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Songan nods to Leralt. "We are in agreement. If this disease of undeath that is affecting us is not cured by the appointed time, it will not matter how fascinating the life here is, we will be destroyed by the Pale Guardians. Are there no medical facilities present? We can better assist you without subjecting ourselves to becoming members of your Collective, but is there any way you could examine whatever our affliction is without joining the Collective?"
The gnome nods. "We could examine and offer our opinions. I should note that you would not have been admitted to the viewing chamber had you displayed any sign of a transmittable disease. Whatever this affliction is, it is either not in you or not transmittable by you. However, if you bring us a victim, we will examine them." When you are done asking questions, you are lead to a larger door and then down several ramps to the base of the mountain, emerging from behind a permanent illusion of a large rock to a small path that leads you back toward the jungle.
The sun is shining above and the air is warm. From the direction of the colony a thin line of black smoke rises into the air...
Leralt shakes his head.
"Why am I not surprised. Let me taje a great stab in the dark, with us after their false trail they have not attacked our settlement yet again. No doubt a number of people have been killed, wounded, or taken away. Why we do not let this damn island destroy itself still has yet to be answered."
He was beginning to care less about the whole affair, now that he knew he did not have the disease or it was not spreading from his person. A boat ride back to Absalom and a healer, would be far better. His debt to the church could be repaid in other ways that did not require his life or a hopeless cause.
"That would be due to the unfortunate circumstance of our still being on said island with no way off, Leralt," Krupt drawls. "You're letting your petulant mood interfere with your brain."
"Perhaps this time they'll leave behind some clues that aren't a red herring. I'm just happy to learn I don't have the plague. We should hurry back and make sure they haven't destroyed everything yet." He gives a jaunty spin of his cane and chivalrously offers Lena the lead.
Still silent and cogitating over all the many interesting facts and finds of the day, Catila breaks her silence with an oath as she sees the line of smoke from the direction of the colony. Frowning at the constantly bickering Leralt and Krupt she says aloud "That may well be a perfectly fine source of smoke...but still, let us hurry."
Looking back to their guide she smiles and shakes his hand "I'm sure we'll meet again, so this is not goodbye, but until next. Unless you know of a quicker way for us to return to our colony though, I fear we must now depart with all haste."
And, if no other means is suggested, she begins jogging back towards the colony, hoping against hope that all will be well when she gets there.
Leralt shakes his head yet again.
"As always you have a weak grasp of the information. We have the hull of the ship sense the storm. We could rebuild the ship and leave in short order compared to rebuilding the settlement. Unless that has been destroyed as well, would not be surprised if it was."
Lena scowls at Leralt, there wasn't enough time punch the wizard for his ill-thought out words because the colony might well be at risk.
Lena jogs after Catila, her strides easily matching the small gnome as they hurry back to the colony
It takes a long time to reach the colony, and by the time you arrive you're breathless and covered in sweat. As you near the colony, you can see that the black smoke seems to be rising from within the walls, which seem to be intact from far off.
As you get closer, a new tower seems to jut above the walls, a simple platform with a single guardsman standing atop it, armed with a heavy crossbow. As you approach, the gates open and smiling faces greet you.
"Welcome back! We've constructed a guard tower and started boiling tar to reinforce the walls!" A workman says, pointing toward a large fire, atop which sits a large cauldron which smokes with a thick black smoke, clearly the column of smoke you saw from the Collective's entrance.
"Work continues on shelter. We have the frame and roof up on a new barracks and craftsman lodge. We should be finished in a few days and ready to waterproof the walls. We've had pretty good luck with the weather and a few of the lads dived down into the ship and found three casks of nails." The same craftsman, identifying himself as Himmek, goes on in a lower voice. "Unfortunately, we've had three men collapse in the last day. Clerics can't find anything wrong with them. Sister Mara's with them, but it just looks like they're wasting away, and coughing up black blood."
Smiling her relief and happiness at the progress the colony has accomplished, and that it is safe, she takes a moment to catch her breath and pats the craftsman encouragingly on the arm.
Then, leaving the, to her, not-so-interesting details of the construction to the others, she makes her way to the secret door to the underground chambers, intending to visit and check in on the angel once more.
Before she heads down she wakes up the sleeping Surrek from his comfortable lodgings in one of her pockets and asks him if he wishes to visit the angel with her or has other duties he needs to attend to.
On arrival back at the colony, Lena thanks Abadar that the town is still standing.
"Good work Himmek"
When Catila heads towards the mayor's house, Lena instead makes a bee line for the temple to enquire about the sick colonists. Lena lingers a moment in case anyone wishes to join before striding purposefully off to seek Sister Mara.
In response to Leralt: "Ah, of course, how silly of me. I shall inform the Shipwrights' Guild to start on your plan straight away once we return. We do have a guild of shipwrights capable of repairing it, do we not?"
After finding that the colony isn't being burned down: "How should we determine who to send to our fungal friend for examination? Draw lots, or ask for volunteers?"
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Songan as well breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that the smoke is from naught but boiling tar, glad for once that it seemed the colony was well in order.
"If the three who collapsed are lucid, I would prefer asking for volunteers, as well as a promise of secrecy. The last thing we need is colonists who don't understand exactly what we're dealing with marching off into the wilderness looking for the People or the Collective or whatever other group we might happen to run into on this anachronism of an island."
Himmek leads you to a lean to near one of the walls, where the sick are being kept in shade and tended by Sister Mara. She looks tired as you walk up, her brow wet with sweat and her hands wringing out a wet cloth. She smiles weakly as she sees you, dabs the forehead of a middle-aged man, then stands and walks over to you, just out of earshot of the patients.
"Thank Abadar you are back. These men are sick and I cannot help them. Their fevers are rising, their bodies are wracked with chills and shakes and they keep coughing up black blood. It is as if they were rotting from the inside."
Leralt shakes his head at the man, only a fool thinks a craftsmen is limited to one trade. A wizard may specialize in one field of the arcane but that does not mean he is without the ability of another. Carpenters are the same, he wondered if those fumes had finally started effecting his brain.
"Indeed, whatever you say."
------
At the settlement he simply returns to his new chamber, requesting a craftsman to come create the door he had in mind when they were free. Once there he starts going thru the books and notes he had along with the information he had learned himself. Hopefully he would not need to unleash a statue to make progress, not that he had the ability to deal with the fiend bound with in. As such it was a future event at best, if only one of last resort at that.
"Now lets see if I can get anymore out of you."
He speaks to no one but the tomes.
"Thank Abadar you are back. These men are sick and I cannot help them. Their fevers are rising, their bodies are wracked with chills and shakes and they keep coughing up black blood. It is as if they were rotting from the inside."
"It seems to be progressing quickly. If we have any magics or supplies that will boost their resistance, that may hold it at bay for a time. One of them should be taken to the Collective as soon as possible. I suppose I should return to studying."
Unless otherwise directed, Krupt returns to studying Morin's Book of Vitalities to see what else he can glean from the tome.
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"We wish to take one of these men somewhere away from the colony. We have recently come in contact with some individuals who may be able to help. Are any of these men lucid enough to volunteer? I would prefer not to force cooperation if it can be avoided but this will quickly become something we cannot handle."
Speaking to him of the Collective, he listens, but seems to know nothing of them. He does however, confirm that a great battle was fought and his predecessor was tasked with overseeing the island. "I have been communing with his memories. They seem to be unlocked to me now, as they have never been before. I can walk in them, as one walks in a park. Or a brewery during one of the many tours offered by Catalan and Brothers in Falcon's Hollow!"
Sister Mara frowns. "Well, Gordon is the most lucid. He began coughing up blood only this morning. The others pass in and out of consciousness. I believe they are further along in their pain and lucidity might be a torment for them." She leads you to Gordon, who lays propped up on a pile of torn fabric. He is trying to sew them together, but his hands shake so bad that his stitching is slow and uneven. Still, he looks up as you approach and smiles a sad smile. "What can a humble tailor do for you heroes? Are you in need of..." his words trail off as a fit of coughing overtakes him and he spits out black pieces of clotted blood and phlegm.
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Songan frowns, his ears drooping noticeably at seeing the state the humble tailor is in. He kneels down in front of the man, drawing in a breath. "You are, perhaps, a great deal more important than you realize, Gordon. We have made a...a discovery...in the forest, a distance from the colony, that we believe may somehow be able to help alleviate the suffering of you and the others, as well as hopefully prevent anyone else from becoming ill. Unfortunately, it would require you to travel to that location, as it is not something we can bring here. We will do all we can to assist you in getting back to that place. Are you willing to come with us?" he asked. The survival of the colony, and all of them, may well depend on Gordon's response, but Songan did not want to put such a high level of pressure on the man. Not just yet.
Recovering from his coughing, Gordon pales. "You need me? I mean, of course I'm willing to help, anything you ask." You can see there's a bit of hero worship at play here.
"Gordon, can you walk?"
Lena is happy to carry the man using her Muleback Cords if he is unable or if the group cannot commandeer a horse/cart/wagon of some sort
"Aye, though I could use an arm to lean on, my lady." He stands, though a fit of coughing wracks him as he does. He leans heavily on any arm offered, walking as quickly as he can manage.
Lena grasps the man's arm and helps him along, her stern expression at odds with her gentle ways. She genuinely cared for man's well being for he was under the protection of Abadar's colony but the prospect of putting an end to the many crises already befalling the town prevented any hint of a warm smile.
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Songan moves to join Lena, smiling reassuringly down to him. "We will do all we can to aid you, friend. You have my word, and our thanks for your aid." he answers, then looks to Catila at the suggestion they bring the other two.
"Hmm. If we wanted to take them all, we would need to have some way of transporting them all at once, rather than two of us helping one man at a time, as that would required too much separation for my comfort. Could we make a three-man gurney?"
Catila asks for a private conference with the other heros and speaks bluntly once they're gathered "Well, no offense to the strength and dedication of the two of you, or our brave volunteer, but I highly doubt any of the three of you will be able to make it all the way there simply supporting him by the arms. If we wish to get him there in one piece, a gurney's the way to do it. As for the other two, they will surely die if left here, not to mention quite potentially then become a danger to the colony. Their only chance to survive is to bring them along as well. So, yes, three gurneys is what I suggest. As for how to do so, we have several strapping men among the colonists I am sure would be willing to volunteer their muscles. This is the best solution I can think of anyway."
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Songan considers Catila's reply to their conundrum. "While I agree a gurney would work best, given the distances involved, but it also seems like it could be quite dangerous to expose any number of colonists to the Collective. Frightened people tend to behave unpredictably, moreso when confronted with something they do not fully understand. We should limit exposure as much as possible. No more than one or two other colonists, I should think, and I will be glad to lend my arm to the task."
Giving orders to the craftsmen outside, a litter is fashioned to allow you to carry a person (or more if you wish). Sister Mara looks concerned as you load the victim onto it. "Where are you taking them? What will happen to them?"
"We may have found a way to cure this affliction, but we need to bring one suffering its effects. I give my word we shall protect him with our lives, Sister"
Sister Mara nods at this, looking worried, but reassured. "I've no doubt you will. I only hope he will be safe and cured."
"Shall we make haste then? Will Leralt be joining us?"
The trip back to the Collective is uneventful, though you do get the feeling you're being watched several times. Each time, however, you look and seek and do not see any watchers. Your path is familiar, and although the burden is heavy, you make it without incident. The gnome you met before is there, with four other sturdy looking gnomes who take the patient from you and into the corridors. "It may take some time to examine the patient. If you return in three days, we should have definite results." After some discussion and reassurances that the patient will be treated in the finest manner possible, short of introduction to the Collective, you decide to head back to the colony.
However, your trip this time is not so uneventful.
As you walk about a mile from the Collective, you suddenly top a small rise to see a man waiting for you. He's older, in his 60's, but still hale and tall, but thin and bald. He wears black armor that hangs on him like fabric, but seems impressive nonetheless, and leans on an impressive staff topped with a ram's skull. A wickedly spiked morningstar hangs on his belt. He is flanked by four other figures in dark robes and iron skull masks. He raises his arm when you appear and calls out. "I have not come to fight with you, merely to speak. I believe you've been looking for me and mine. In honor of your persistence, I thought I would grant an audience."
"I am Uriah Parker, also called Josiah Green, first Mayor of 'Abadaria', as that fool Archcanon chose to call it. I prefer to call it by its proper name: Cyvin Dreskar, a piece of the Abyss formed when the Gluttondark collided with the material plane during the battle of Three Armies. And I? I will be its master."
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Songan's tail lashes back and forth, and the spread of his feet increases, though he doesn't draw a weapon or make any more blunt shows of aggression. A low, throaty growl emerges from him at the words of the dark-armored man.
"A curious thing, I should think, that you did not come to fight but to talk. What this place was is not relevant. All that matters is that it will not be allowed to become what it was."
As the party squares off against the former mayor and his cronies, Catila quickly and quietly hides behind her bigger comrades. Once hidden from direct view, she begins humming a magical tune, increasing the perception and reaction times of herself and all her allies. She then casts a quick cantrip to improve her senses and finally casts detect magic and begins scanning the enemy, as well as observing everything she can about them and any clues that might come to her as a result, paying close attention to the evil old mayor's words, sifting through truth and lie.
Stealth:
Perception:
K Arcana:
K History:
K Local:
Sense Motive:
Leralt cast a detect magic spell before they approach the man, scanning him and his comrades. He listens to what the man says, searching his mind for information concerning the names and the battle. Yet saying nothing for now, though he does not feel antagonizing the person that has so thoughly controlled and attacked so many groups, as well as powerful outsiders, was wise at all. Better they be seen as an annoyance then an enemy. Arrogance was a weakness, the only one he had seen so far, yet one that could be turned into a blade if provoked. As such he remained in the back, a fair distance from the cat.
Lena stares intently at the man and his group, watching his every move and listening to his words while feeling her hand edge closer to the hilt of her falcata.
"And how exactly do you plan on becoming the master of this realm?"
Uriah signs, and shakes his head slowly. "I appear before you as a sign of respect. I have seen what you have accomplished thus far and I approve. You would make excellent Lieutenants in my coming new world. Alas, I believe you all are far too committed to 'order' and 'virtue' and the other nonsense the Church of Abadar proposes, and not nearly as devoted to knowledge as you should be. Thus I do offer you this: I will deal with the Pale Fungi for you. You need not worry over their deadlines. Alas, though I cannot allow you to interfere in what is to come. Ah, the gnomes and their tentacled overlord have finished examining your colonist. No matter. Minions, do as I have bid." The figure seems to get a faraway look in its eye as it speaks of the gnomes, as if it were seeing things from far away. It snaps back and gestures at the hooded figures, who as one reach into their robes to grasp something.
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Songan tenses as each of the hooded figures reach into their robes in unison; he makes no move to attack, but his entire body tenses as he prepares to try and dodge out of the way, just in case an attack is coming.
His "offer" of dealing with the Pale Guardians unnerves him, and he finds himself concerned that his method of dealing with them may involve simply removing them from the equation entirely, an outcome which he did not want by any stretch of the imagination.
Leralt speaks out as soon as he notices the magical aura.
"Watch out its powerful transmutation magic. Stop them!
He cast a spell of fire to catch as many as he can, robes did burn easily.
Catila's keen and trained eyes catch something her companions may have missed and she points it out to them in a whisper "The leader, Uriah as he calls himself, he's not really here, it's a projection of some sort. Interesting. Oh, the others are real enough though."
As she sees the quick tempered magician begin to attack by spell, she tries to call out to stop him in time "No! Leralt! Wait!"