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    The sharpened oars and the use of the hooks signals some kind of design, but they are all quite crude, rather than a practiced hunter. It feels almost like imitation, though the craftmanship of the cog facade is a bit uncanny. It feels unnatural... It's not illusion, for certain, but it might not be of merely mortal make. The tide has washed away most tracks, but you are diligent enough, with Nax's torch, to find an almost complete track near the treeline. It is almost humanoid, but with a jutting digit that certainly makes it not human, looking more hand than foot."The old man is but dead weight," Nax offers, recalling Rust's own terminology used the day before, "but Nax Tirrinu knows he's right about one thing: A crew needs a reason, even if it is only an equal share. We are all free on the sea, but already Nax sees that they would scatter to the Nine Seas in every direction if they had their way. Whomever truly wants the captain's hat, would have to give them a reason to stay, when we leave this graveyard isle." He shifts the torch, eyes and white tattoos glinting under the light as he looks to Dermid. "And you? What does Dermid FitzCulainn think makes a good captain of a man?"      The bones are as dust, exploding into cloudy bits of water with the sudden strikes of the shava, who moves with some difficulty through the water, but not enough to slow down the focus of her strikes, which might amaze the onlooker at their impact. With the two Un-Dead dispatched, she breaks once again from the surface, allowing Jan'ti to advance and sink low, spear upraised and shield before her. Her form is backlit by the brightening torch held by Urszula creating a silhouette in the darkness before the hole into the warren, from which occasionally bubbles of foul air spews forth. All eyes are on the warren, and soon enough, a creature emerges from the darkness. Its body is twisted and elongated, a monstrosity beyond the shape of a mere humanoid. It is emaciated down to skin and bone, with spines down its back and a hunched over gait that favors its huge, wicked claws. Its jaw is exaggerated and large with great teeth, and a lolling purple tongue. Its eyes are merely pale and pupil-less, its gaze difficult to tell, as it asserts itself forward, only to be met with the sea-witch's magic! With a Primordial incantation that above the water sounds like the distant song of a leviathan, there is a cracking sound in the water, like a breaking iceberg, and a chill that passes through like a current swirls about the lacedon. Its body finds itself chilled to the bone, purplish-blue frostbite beginning to form at its extremities as it howls and moves forward, to bear down on the genasi. It swings its claw madly forward, striking at her true... but the claws are halted before they meet flesh, revealing in the brightening light the sharkscale underneath. Even with the full weight of the lacedon's Un-Dead hatred behind it, it could not break through. An hour earlier... When the spiritfolk woman rose from the ground, she found, perhaps to her surprise, that the old dwarf was awake as well. Desider tended at a drying rack where he had cured the shark's skin, and was now finishing a few details of sewing it pieced together. He did not wave her over, but it was obvious he was waiting for her, speaking up through his gap-toothed grin as she did approach. "Those soaked leathers, ye won't be needing them for long. Don't consider it gratitude, aye'll be sore about ye not letting me die as I asked for some time. But perhaps it'll come useful to ye, come morrow." Though not metal, the shagreen glistened in the camplight, that strange combination of smooth and rough, the edges lined with the shark's serrated teeth. Back to the fray... The surface of the dark water, lit up as it was by the torch burning with Quill's thaumaturgical blessing, ripples and crashes open, and a horrible stench roils off as the lacedon thrashes like a shark amidst its prey, catching both the Jan'ti and Ranka in its cloud. The fullness of its wrath seems to be bore down on the genasi however, as she has dealt it with her magic a smarting blow. The lacedon fails its save, taking 7 cold damage. It attempts to attack Jan'ti, but even with a villain point expenditure, fails to hit. However, both Jan'ti and Ranka are within range of its Stench ability. Both of you must succeed on a DC 10 Constitution saving throw or be poisoned until the start of your next turn. The lacedon marks Jan'ti. Urszula body quakes. Her thickly accented voice whispers, "I do not truck with spooks." She nearly leaps out of her skin at a rattling sound, that all above the surface water hear, the rattling of bones across the deck suddenly in motion. Were they laying in wait? Had they come from the sea, climbing the sides of the deck? Or did they materialize out of the mist like some spectral malevolence? Neither Urszula nor Quill had much time to react before above at the side of the hatch, two skeletal figures with dull red eyes appeared in their rotting crusader cuirasses, armed with bows, firing off arrows into the interior. The halfling tumbled back, only being grazed at her side, but the one aimed at the Kenku struck more true. Spending a villain point to create an ambush from the other angle. Both skeletons hit Urszula and Quill. Urszula takes 3 piercing, while Quill takes 7 piercing. Urszula rolls up from the tumble, back against the broken barrels and torch aside, bracing the back of the caviler against her hip, and fires off a shot. With a popping sound, a piece of one of the skeleton's jawbones is blasted off into dust, before she takes cover in one of the officer cabins, to try and get herself out of the range of the two skeletons firing down as if trying to spear fish in a barrell. Her torchlight still shines through, but she is thoroughly now on the defensive. And there is no way out, but through. Urszula deals 9 piercing damage to Skeleton C, reduced to 4 via its resistance.  Battle posted:Initiative is Flood (Players) then Ebb (Dungeon Master). Quill, Urszula, Ranka and Jan'ti, your action. Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 13:17 on May 24, 2018 |
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May 24, 2018 12:04
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 Jan'ti shifts about the creature's backside, flitting to corner it while harrying it with the spear. The stench, while still sickening and offense in its own right, is only enough to provide a strong sense of nausea rather than truly drive the genasi to be sick in the presence of the beast. Jan'ti moves 5', staying within the Lacedon's reach and flanking it for Ranka. She just barely hits with a 13 using the advantage provided by Guiding Light for 2 piercing damage. Con save passed at 12. GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at 22:26 on May 24, 2018 |
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May 24, 2018 14:04
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 Ranka barely manages to keep from gagging when the disgusting creature in front of her emerges in its filthy glory. Ranka's mouth was thankfully closed, the idea of that smell getting into her mouth almost more distressing than the gunshot she'd recieved the day before. The rattling of bone and the twang of bowstrings from behind her is not reassuring, and the sound Quill makes when he takes a nearly mortal blow is disheartening, but she had to keep her mind on the here and now. Jan'ti was doing a decent job of harrying the lacedon from in the water, and as it drifted back and away from her spear thrusts, it's met with a savage blow to the neck from Ranka's own weapon, a spinning roundhouse kick meeting it as it moves with the force of the first blow. The beast hadn't even had the time to hit water before Ranka was off, wading through the flooded hall to leap onto the ladder onto the deck, her staff being waved wildly above her to make any future shots the skeletons felt like taking much more difficult. HP: 9/9 AC: 19 Hero Points: 1/3 HD: 1/1d8 Ranka is Inspired! Features: Nimble: Can move through other creature's spaces. Lucky: Reroll ones on attack/ability/saving throws, keep the new result. Brave: Advantage on saves vs being frightened. Cockaigne Compass: Points toward the nearest source of alcohol ≥ a gallon. (Pointed at the far end of the galley) quote:TheNabster is away from their computer, but did mechanics in the meantime, Guiding Bolt hit at 19 vs AC for 10 radiant to the Lacedon.
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May 24, 2018 15:25
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 Rust stands before the guilder facade, studying it intently as he adds to the conversation. "If they want to go their own way down the line I say let them. Our goal right now is to get back to civilization, and survival is a noble enough goal to keep us together for the moment. I can play nice with these people long enough to get to Tarturuga, or any port really. From there if you blokes are still with me, then I say we split from our current companions, find more like minded sorts and we get back to what we're good at.". Pulling out his cutlass, he points at the cog facade and changes the subject. "Something about this looks off, what do you guys make of it?" Rust circles around to the side looking for a point to try and pry the emblem from the hull of the ship. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 18:44 on May 24, 2018 |
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May 24, 2018 15:46
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 In the murky waters in front of Quill, he tried to spot their quarry before it emerged from the deeps but without much in the way of light, he couldn't do much. He looked to Urszula and beckoned her a little closer. "Bring Torch, bring torch." When the torch was brought near to the water with one talon on the amulet he recited one of the few passages of the Thaumaturgic Incantations of the Ennead "<By their hands, even a candle may burn like starlight>" The flame quickly grew to an incredible level of brightness to fill the room and further illuminate the waters, just in time for a horrible shambling monstrosity to come roaring out of the depths and swing at Janti, thankfully missing her. Such a horrible abomination was in dire need of divine smiting Quill was deciding at this point. He didn't see the Skeleton Archers move into position until it was too late. Since I forgot to post from last turn, Quill casts Thaumaturgy on Urszula's torch to make it glow brighter Had he not flinched, the arrow would have pierced his heart, as it stands, it was all Quill could do not to pass out from the sudden incredible pain as he meekly grasped at arrow sticking out of his chest and tried very hard not to start panicking, and failed. He needed to be out of this room right now. But what he would do before he got to safety is hit this horrible abomination with his hardest damaging spell on the way out. He held forth the Amulet in a shaking hand and trying his best between pain breathes uttered. "<By radiant dawn may you be cast down into the depths!>" And fired out a radiantly light blue bolt from the symbol, zig-zagging through the air before piercing the creature in it's core and illuminating it brightly. Then clutching his wound and stumbling, he retreated out of sight of the archers an into the Officer's quarters. Quill casts Guiding Bolt onto the Lacedon, as the first part of the PC turn hitting with a 19 and rolling 10 Radiant damage total against the horrible sea ghoul. Then he's gonna get the gently caress out of this room and hide in the Officer's quarters until the fighting stops because that attack nearly killed him HP: 1/8 AC: 16 Hero Points: 3/3 HD: 1/1d8 Prepared Spells: 5(+2) Spell Slots - Lvl.1: 1/2 Cantrips; Guidance, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy Level 1; Bless, Command, Detect Magic, Guiding Bolt, Healing Word, Identify, Sanctuary TheNabster fucked around with this message at 08:48 on May 25, 2018 |
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May 24, 2018 22:08
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As the lacedon is taken down with the skilled maneuvering of the genasi and the fell-handed blows of the shava, it collapses, twisting and still thrashing for some time as they work to subdue it, pinning it under the surface of the water as the last vestiges of Un-Death works its way through its system, until with a final howl that resonates through the misty wreckage it releases it, the vile twisted soul within being put to violent rest and consigned to the Shadowfel. However, the skeletons remain animate, falling down from the hatch having discarded their bows for swords, rattling as they did. The fleshless automatons lurch forward, but their rusting joints make their maneuvers wide and clumsy. One makes for Ranka but its rusty blade instead meets the wall, as it seems to keep trying to move ignorant of it, taking a moment to glance only for her quarterstaff to dust its dome with a single thwack, followed up with a sweep of its feet such that it lands in a dusty clatter.  The other turns and seeing the door slam shut makes for it, plunging the door in and through the wood, a blade breaking through with splinters visible by Quill who took cover within. Urszula, still shaking, raises her gun to fire, but takes just a moment to think... long enough to decide to flip the gun back and swing the butt forward in the back of its spine, knocking it against the door and following with an underhanded strike, knocking pieces of it elsewhere as it lets out a silent cry of its jawbones. Shrugging off the water as she rises up, and raising that Ornassi style round shield before her, Jan'ti rushes forward, crushing the rest of it against the door and finishing it off, leaving the door creaking and swinging open to reveal Quill within, collecting his wits after his magic all but sealed the fate of the (briefly) terrifying lacedon. The foes have been dispatched. It is over. Urszula continues to shake, holding that gun threateningly towards the pile of skulls and looking to the other, missing her usual halfling cheer as she blithely says once more, "I do not truck with spooks." Battle is left. Beyond the bowels of this part of the ship, the rest of it remains empty. It is best to remain on guard, but nothing living nor Un-Dead stirs. In the other, larger half of the ship, the bowels are more sparing, seemingly having been mostly stripped, but there are a few treasures to find, including a coffer and a cask of elvish cider, made from the apples of Annwn Tor and finely aged within the mystic oak, perfectly preserved and perfected over centuries. The chests seem a bit daunting, but once she has had a moment, Urszula proves herself again uniquely skilled, revealing that she had filched a few tools for himself and sets to work picking t he locks of both of them. She complains that they are much too old, but she gets both of them, revealing treasures within both... including, perhaps most notably, a treasure map. The only part of the wreckage that is still suspect to explore is the deepest bowels of the other ship, which stink of the lacedon even now and its vile work. It speaks of a possible charnel house beneath the ground in the warren, yet there may yet be things to find if one is willing to brave it. Yet it might not be the healthiest decision for our castaways, for their mind or body. What do you do? The Wreckage of the Galleas posted:Giving you the full haul here so you can describe going over it on your own time and posts. If you want to take actions like Investigate or Perception, or especially if you want to dig down deeper, let me know. I have removed the dynamic lighting feature from the map now so you can properly see the shape of things. Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 02:39 on May 25, 2018 |
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May 25, 2018 02:29
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The small collection of treasures is a pales in worth when compared to the bounty that is the cask of cider, if Ranka had her eay she'd crack it open now and simply start downing it, but equal shares was the name of the game with this lot, and it wouldn't do to start making waves before escaping. Bolstered by the fantastic discoveries, Ranka looks toward the end of the tunnel and lets out a drawn out sigh "Mother Waclawa always said not to leave any part of a wreck unchecked..." She begins pulling off her boots and lets out a disatisfied groan, focusing now on the hole the Lacedon had come out of "Quill, I know you're a bit rough off, but I could use a touch of encouragement if you can muster the strength to give it." Her mantle flops wetly to the ground and she gives it a couple taps to pop her flask out of its concealed pocket "Someone keep that if something bad happens yeah?" Ranka gives her arms and legs a quick loosening, and then makes to descend into the Lacedon's lair. HP: 9/9 AC: 19 Hero Points: 1/3 HD: 1/1d8 Features: Nimble: Can move through other creature's spaces. Lucky: Reroll ones on attack/ability/saving throws, keep the new result. Brave: Advantage on saves vs being frightened. Cockaigne Compass: Points toward the nearest source of alcohol ≥ a gallon. quote:Ranka will descend into the gross flooded hell pit in search of filthy lucre. She's spending her inspiration to negate the disadvantage of not being able to see.
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May 25, 2018 03:19
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It is perhaps fortunate that Ranka sees very little in the depths of the ship, at first. What little light can filter down through shows that most everything has disintegrated into silt, coating the bottom in a loamy bed. Interestingly, she finds the torchlight is not the only source of light. Very dimly, in the loam and across the wooden walls, is a bioluminescence, more algae than fungus or mushroom, that creates trails of prismatic colors like the skin of a manowar under the moonlight, in strange configurations that look almost living. They move in between the shapes of a catacomb of bones, arranged and placed according to some mad design or obsession, all eyes pointed inward as before to her. She is not caught off-guard, and is able to navigate through the warren with relative ease, and do so quickly. She looks for any signs of what might have been missed, but there is little down here but signs of death. She begins to piece together parts of what terrible tragedy haunts the hull. The lacedon was almost certainly one of the elves on the ship at one time, and feasted on the corpses of his fellows, after they were attacked. The lacedon was not likely the one to have killed them, and the bodies down here seem different, more intact. Whereas there were only skulls above, here there are entire bodies, the bones separated and stacked like an ossuary. Usually ghouls are depicted with only a beast's intelligence. Did some shred of his former life maintain through it, through the centuries of waiting? There appear to have been other bodies here, not given the same treatment, as well as the carcasses of animals. Ranka works her way throgh the filth, trying to find any valuables, but there is nothing that is not rusted or rotted away, save the sign that for years this has been the graveyard of many castaways. Finally she arrves at the very end, and finds glimmering in the dark through the light of the algae the one treasure hidden amid all of this. A crusader's broadsword, shaped as the banisher's cross, made out of lunargent, that silvered steel that cuts through the flesh of astral demons with the warding power of the Silver Moon, it almost glows as that moon does, perfectly reflective and holding a bit of its own. However, the beauty of it is somewhat muted by the state of where it is found: Plunged into the side of the ship, pinning a skull with a brass circlet on its head, missing a jewel at the center, akin to what the elvish windjammers wear to focus their wizardry. The inset, one might find, would match exactly with the amethyst that was found in the ship master's possessions. You find a silvered longsword, and nothing else in the depths. What do you do?
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May 25, 2018 05:36
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Grime, rust, slop, bones, and a whole lot of nothing. Ranka was already uncomfortable having submerged herself in The Sea, but the lacedon's choice of decor certainly wasn't helping her to keep calm. The siren call of cider above was at least an anchor she could pin her hopes on, even if diving onto this hole didn't pay off. Just as she's about to discard the dive as a lost cause, she hits the jackpot. The sword in front of her wasnt a thing she could use, but it could likely come in handy for one of her compatriots, or be pawned off in the future. The circlet on the pinned skull would likely increase the value of the precious stone they'd found as well, if it didn't do something when fused back together, windjammers were an odd sort. The circlet comes free easily, the flesh that once held it aloft long gone, but the sword is another matter, lodged in the hull as it is. Planting her feet on the hull, Ranka lodges her small body between ship and the blade's crossguard and begins to push with all her might. [19 Strength check to remove the blade]  The broadsword slides out, almost too easily. As if it were made for her hands, it comes free, glinting and almost blinding her with a flash of reflected light, and she feels a sudden, heady rush. There is a shudder in the water, but she's increasingly further, and further away. Suddenly, the feeling of water all around her seems to slide off her form, as her eyes open somehow a second time, and she gazes instead upon a sky full of stars. "Will you keep this promise?" The voice is silk, draping itself already with resignation at an expected answer. A visage is before Ranka now the likes of which she had never seen. Taller than most elves she's known, which is already quite tall for one of the shava, with platinum hair that drapes down to the ankles, covering a body that is otherwise only glad in gossamer, a heart-shaped face looking up to the constellations, and then down to Ranka. Dark streaks like tears down each side of her almond eyes. She waits for an answer. Ranka is overtaken as a myriad of sensations wash over her in an instant. It takes more than a moment for her to really realize what has happened, or to become aware of the towering being next to her. It had asked something, but Ranka wasn't sure if it had spoken and she'd missed it, or if it was just making a broad declaration. "My people and I are not inclined to break our oaths. What is it you're asking?" There is a moment, a ripple in this memory, at Ranka's words, but her eyes crease, understanding and turning back away. "Why else would I be ashamed to ask? And yet I must. I cannot bear losing you again." As Ranka settles into the vision, it feels more and more like somebody else's, yet all the same she also understands that her words have a certain power, worth weighing wisely. "Will you return to me? I will wait, you know I will. The sunset cannot last forever. The war must come to an end." Ranka takes her time considering what the being is saying. It seemed clear that it was treating her as someone else, but she'd never been incredibly experienced with these sorts of things, there were likely layers upon layers of subtleties to be missed. Her gut reaction is to release the blade and simply leave it behind, but to abandon something so old, even if it wasn't a trinket of her people's past, it was as close to sacrilege as the shava had. Ranka is hesitant, but she does eventually agree. Looking back on the moment, she isn't sure if it was the memories settling over her which influenced her decision, some base greed at the potential of returning this blade to it's previous owner's descendant in exchange for long lost tidbits of history, or perhaps just the naive willingness to trust that the shava had, which led to so many of their artifacts being robbed. A compact had been struck though, and Ranka was not one to go back on her words. "I am a Seeker of lost things, I reunite the stolen and the misplaced with those that treasure them. I root out history where it is lost. I will find you." quote:PC entrapment!!! I can't just say no! That'd be super lame
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May 25, 2018 07:12
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Hobbling out of the captain's quarters to the sound of the request from Ranka, Quill nods weakly and gives her the magic touch, stopping half way through to cough. After that he set to work within the bowels of this end of the ship, the things on the other side of the boat didn't interest him currently but what did interest him were the signs of life long since departed left on the ship. The books, the clothes, the navigator's tools and especially the map were all placed into his bag, he was a scholar first and foremost and even meager items such of these were of great historical value considering the period they were from. The only wrinkle to a find like this was that there was exactly one member of the party that he knew spoke Sarnathqar, and wasn't relishing the prospect of asking the Nosy Half-Elf for help after his initial encounter. Especially when the dull throbbing pain in his chest was distracting him from being able to interpret the mysterious treasure map more closely then he would have. After making sure all the items were secure, he laboriously climbed back up the steps to the top of the deck. Being shot with shortbows wasn't the highlight of his day but the sharp stabbing pain and occasional whimpering as every slight jolt sent shooting pains up his body, reminded him why exactly he tried to stay away from direct combat a lot of the time. He strongly felt the need to acquire something that would put a bit more distance of any enemies from Quill's person. He scanned the deck for any signs of the skeletal remains. Quill will grant Guidance to Ranka before she dives into the murky waters. Out of the spoils he would like to take the Ledger, the Journal, the Clothes and the Map, all the historical stuff basically. He attempts to discern the locations on the map but rolls a 9 on his history check. He would also like to take the Navigator's Tools unless someone else wants to carry them to hand off to one of the four people trained in them later. He then climbs onto the top-deck to try and find the skeletons that shot him, and take their short-bows and arrows if possible. He rolls a 21 to investigate the deck. HP: 1/8 AC: 16 Hero Points: 3/3 HD: 1/1d8 Prepared Spells: 5(+2) Spell Slots - Lvl.1: 1/2 Cantrips; Guidance, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy Level 1; Bless, Command, Detect Magic, Guiding Bolt, Healing Word, Identify, Sanctuary TheNabster fucked around with this message at 20:43 on May 25, 2018 |
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May 25, 2018 13:28
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The air is heavy with unrest and discomfort as they tear the ship apart looking for whatever goods the four can find. Jan'ti is particularly uncomfortable endlessly pacing and incapable of standing still without shifting her weight from one foot to the other and back again. They are in a watery grave, among the souls of the restless lost, a fate that she struggled to justify for any one or any thing. The stench hung in the air, no longer toxic but no less noxious, having surely soaked into the perennially dank wooden tomb. Finally, at her wit's end and incapable of focusing on the task at hand, Jan'ti approaches the watery habitat the ghoul had emerged from and dips her cupped hand in to receive a small bit of water. She crouches over each corpse in turn, dripping the salt water slowly over the foreheads of the damned and muttering a prayer to her drowned god in Ornassi. <Lost souls be thee, tired toiled suffering. Deprived rest, lost at sea. Blessed be, Dagon. Set them free.> There's little rhyme or reason to it all, beyond ritual and superstition. Dead men lost at sea doomed to never see the shores of their home again were the most pitiful of creatures. It was of little surprise to Jan'ti they had risen again in such a foul temperament. She could do little for them now. The whole ordeal left her dour and hollow. Once finished, she remained crouched over the lacedon with her head hung low. She is alone with Ranka off to engage another lost spirit and Quill on the deck and takes this single moment to grimace and clutch her fists tightly to her sides, fighting off tears for the countless dead. A brief reprieve from strength and action before she wiped her eyes and ascended to the deck above. "<Quill?>" Her voice is quiet. Tired. Not all together free of her usual abruptness but certainly attempting to be gentle. "<Are you alright? You were struck in the battle, were you not?>" Jan'ti is speaking Ornassi through out. Her little ritual is entirely fluff. GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at 19:28 on May 25, 2018 |
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May 25, 2018 19:20
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Quill turns at the sound of Janti's voice to face her directly. The arrow in his chest now has a somewhat large bloodstain around it as Quill attempts to stem the bleeding with his free hand, he doesn't look too hot but he's trying his best to at least stay upright. "<Still living... Need to sit.>" He slumps back onto the deck for the moment to take a breather, taking in slow and raspy breathes of the early morning sea mist. HP: 1/8 AC: 16 Hero Points: 3/3 HD: 1/1d8 Prepared Spells: 5(+2) Spell Slots - Lvl.1: 1/2 Cantrips; Guidance, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy Level 1; Bless, Command, Detect Magic, Guiding Bolt, Healing Word, Identify, Sanctuary
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May 25, 2018 20:50
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The son of the Dread Freewind makes for the bow of the ship, his hand tracing the surface of the false cog. It feels unusually smooth, without the natural grooves or grain of wood, rather feeling like a complete solid, more akin to the sculpted stone found in a riverbed. At the end, Rust looks for the name of the cog, and finds what looks like the squared, clean calligraphy of Guilder Grunnish, but on closer inspection, it seems to be only a facsimile of a name at all, forming letters he could not identify. Grabbing on a piece that is ajar, he wrenches it off. It bends and deforms, more malleable than it should be, stretching but not snapping as rotten wood might. A plume of dust exudes from the opening, blowing into Rust's face and nostrils, stinging at his eyes. With a reflexive breath, he breaks into a fit of coughing, that does not subside for some time, his body aching in the effort to rid itself of the material he breathed in, leaving his chest and shoulders sore from the labor. When he regains his bearings and looks inside, he finds that the thin, smooth facade is insulated with a fibrous mess, that looks but does not feel like fur, the dawn colors of pinkish, purple, and yellow. At touch, it easily breaks down into something not unlike sawdust, and with his working knife he can cut out a ball of the strange substance, if he so chooses. Crushing it between his palms, it forms that powder, and remembering how violently his body reacted to inhaling it, it's not hard for a man of his inclinations to imagine a use for it, that perhaps was not entirely intended. Though, one has to wonder, what exactly was it intended for? There's no real way for me to explain it sufficiently in-character within the fiction, but the wood of the ship is far more like plastic than wood to Rust's examination, a material that is alien in make and unlike anything he might have seen. It wouldn't be useful to build with, but it might be interesting to someone with alchemical expertise. The inside is a fire retardant insulation, but also could be improvised into a few bags of dust that causes coughing and restricted breathing.As Rust busies himself with investigating the cog, Nax applies his surgical barber's expertise to the body of the carrion crawler. He does not dirty his hands however at first however, slicing it open with a move his hand hand and then dragging out organs as such. From its alien biology, he crouches with scissors and tweezers in hand, to remove from the base of the tentacles the venom sacs and stingers, collecting them in a small glass phial as he did, enough for two doses of the paralytic venom. With that, most of their work is done. The trap sprung, it is time for them to make for camp, if they do not want to travel much further from the ship's grounds. Perhaps they will get back a little before the rest, and have some time to nurse their wounds before the other party arrives back at camp. Without any clever ideas, there isn't much more you can find here. Beyond the previously described snares and hooks, and the tracks of the humanoids, two doses of carrion crawler venom, and five handfuls of the choking powder, there isn't anything left to salvage here, though that is a fair amount of utilitarian tools to work. Deep in the vision at the bowels of the elvish galleas, Ranka hears her words are echoed by another person's voice. "I will find you." There is a heavy weight in her hands, and she remembers the sword is still in her hands. Yet it is not the sword she sees when she glances down at her hands, but one of the shee on death's door. Black hair that is curt in an exacting way to frame their androgynous features, pupiless eyes with clear violet irises gazing upward. A grievous wound having cloven through their cheek, revealing the teeth within as they return Ranka's gaze, giving a pained look. The brass circlet on their head lacks the patina, with the amethyst set in its place. The same bright yellow embroidered tunic on the ship master's form. The master reaches out, and whispers to Ranka specifically: "Now, I can finally die. Pray for me, as the Hells takes us for what we've done." The vision flickers, and she sees only the sword where his body lay, only a flickering memory, with the skull still hanging from its end, the circlet clutched in her hand at that end. The silver-haired vision that asked the promise seems to reach out, as if to grasp Ranka, but involuntarily, she releases her breath into the water with the promise made. She has her wits enough to not inhale the water, but black threatens to take her vision. She must escape, now, or be taken by the black forever. Urszula crouches near the water, holding her torch near the dark, still surface that occasionally ripples or bubbles up with an intensely worried expression, her free hand gripped down on her knee. She was essentially alone, while Jan'ti and Quill were on the other half of the ship, and she could feel the creeping dread of being alone in the haunted wreck. So when Ranka bursts from the water, barely clinging to life and inhaling deeply, nearly weighed down by the silvery sword in hand, Urszula loses all semblance of composure, screaming as she falls back in a less than dignified manner. The torch hits the deck and rolls down, as it is at a sharp angle, and she finds herself tumbling a bit as well, before catching herself on a piece of bulkhead. Unfortunately, even her long arms cannot reach and grab at the torch before it continues to roll and finally plunges into the water below that opens up at the end of the ship, the other half of the wreck barely visible through the mist, and extinguishes itself with a faint hiss. "Ah..." She offers, contrite. "Sorry." Neither have much time however to consider it. The ship lurches, seemingly of its own accord. There is a soft, but sinister sound, a breath of wind that sweeps through the mist and length of the wreck, and in the darkness there seems to be rising, like the glowing algae below, of a green luminescence coming from below. Indeed, lining the sides of the wrecks comes up an unearthly green light, pulsing softly at first, but beckoning. The ship lurches again, and with a creaking sound, begins to lean further and further so that the slope becomes steeper and steeper, as the sand below begins to open up, as if forming a hungry Maw. The Hells have come for their due. On the surface deck on the other end, Quill and Jan'ti are given a moment with the treasure, though without torchlight they must rely on the adjustment of their eyes, and the slowly increasing dim light of twilight as dawn approaches. They wait for any sign of Urszula and Ranka's return, their moments interrupted when they see the flash of a torch, soon met with a lurching sound and the pulses of green light below the front half of the elvish galleas. To their horror, the ground beneath their feet begins to move as well, with much of the treasure still in the belly of the ship. Though either are used enough by now to the rocking of waves, this is a much more alarming sort of movement, as the ground itself becomes alive, and hungry, and the already mostly buried ship begins to sink into the ground inch by inch, just slow enough to give them time to panic. What do you do? Skill Challenge posted:It's time to introduce skill challenges. This is a relatively simple one. In a skill challenge, the party has to accumulate a number of set successes on a number of skill checks in order to succeed. If they instead accumulate three failures, some complication arises. Each time the same PC makes another check, their DC rises by +2 over the base DC, and if you use the same skill in immediate succession, you take Disadvantage on the roll. You can roll any Skill you think applies, though if I feel the Skill use less than appropriate, I may increase the DC, but I will only do that rarely, I trust in your creativity.
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May 25, 2018 22:23
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The genasi's eyes go wide as Quill turns to face her. The dark glint of wet blood like a patch of oil seeping from the wound in the fading moonlight. She steps carefully along the deck to kneel at the crowfolk's side and examine the wound in closer detail feeling around with gentle prodding against tender and inflamed skin. The fingers of her left hand slowly work their way up and around the old arrow shaft with her other hand ready to apply pretty to the wound. "<Hold still.>" There's a stern but apologetic tone to her voice. Jan'ti knows exactly what's coming, "<This will hurt.>" It's an agonizingly slow process to free the arrow from the flesh it had found purchase in, one that Jan'ti didn't relish in the least. Yet, as she continues she begins to chant in her ancient tongue. The tongue that the waves and winds speak. "<Strong as stone and warm as flame, stitch thy flesh and mend thee bones.>" A light grows under her right hand with each abrupt syllable. From a soft glow to a a dazzling miracle in an instant, the sight if which is just visible between the genasi's bloodstained fingers, only for both the light and Quill's wounds to fade from this reality in an instant. In this brief moment alone on the deck, the crowfolk might just be able to make out his companion's smile in the dim morning light. "<All better now, Quill Scribbling?>" The words almost come out as an announcement from the strange woman. The sentence takes a swerve into inquiry only at the end. "<I'm glad you're okay. Like I said, we stick together. We survi-"> And suddenly, the ship shakes. The old hull moans. The waves crash just out of eyesight. Her prayers have been answered. This dank old tomb is about to sink. Too bad it might just take all of them with it. Quill Scribbling heals 9 points of damage. I'm going to edit my skill check in momentarily but that is an Athletics check of 20 (16+4 from Guidance.) Jan'ti speaks to Quill in Ornassi, but her verbal components are spoken in Primordial. GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at 23:44 on May 25, 2018 |
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May 25, 2018 23:27
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Ranka splutters as she breaks surface, snatching up her mantle and flask from the ground as she snaps at Urszula "Shut up and run, or we're dead!" The Seeker takes off at a sprint, heedless of the sudden lack of light. She smashes hip and chest first into many things, but adrenaline honed reflex sends her smoothly sailing over her obstacles, calling out to Urszula about every stumbling point she hits. In her head it takes minutes to escape into the sunlight, but in truth it's only a few seconds after the boat begins to sink that Ranka bursts onto the deck quote:Ranka is scrabbling her way out of the ship over anything that gets in her way, however unwieldy. Acrobatics result was a 19.
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May 25, 2018 23:42
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Quill whimpers ever so slightly as the arrow is extracted from him, but the feeling of the magic healing his wounds as the pain fades managed to bring some pep back into the Kenku and the sparkle visibly returned to his eyes. This moment of genuine comfort is brought to a sudden and abrupt end when the deck of the ship suddenly lurches, almost toppling Quill over. He rolls back onto his feet and begins to look around, the panic present once again. But without the pain clouding his mind the old neurons started to fire quickly as he scanned the top deck until it locked sight onto the old sail rigging, worn down from years of exposure to the salt and sea but still strong enough, strong enough to hold a person's weight that is. Flicking the stiletto out of hand and scrambling up the deck, Quill made a few rapid calculations in his head and started to cut lengths of rope from the sail and working feverishly to knot it together into a lasso. By the time Ranka and Urszula entered onto the deck with the remaining items in hand, Quill was already twirling the rope over head as he cast it out towards their boat muttering repeated small prayers to Jehuti that he had the maths right on this. Quill contributes to the arrangement via attempting to set up a Zip-line between the dinghy they arrived on, and the sinking boat to create an exit route. This is I felt would be something that required wrist control and precision rather than strength so I went with Sleight of Hand for the check.  Which succeeds. The rope lands squarely on the prow of the dinghy as Quill pulled the rope taut to ensure a tight fight on one end of the line, and then ran back over to the ladies, pushing the rope into Janti's hand. "<Hold please.>" He asked politely as he gently patted her hand, before turning back to Ranka and Urzsula and beckoning and gesticulating over to the ad-hoc zip-line he created. "Grab things. Use slide. Be quick!" He then ran behind Janti and grabbed some slack end of the rope in one hand and places another on her shoulder. "<Setesh steels you for this labour>" He spoke in Ornassi, as the Guidance enchantments wrap themselves around the Genasi, and pulled back on the rope. HP: 8/8 AC: 16 Hero Points: 3/3 HD: 1/1d8 Prepared Spells: 5(+2) Spell Slots - Lvl.1: 1/2 Cantrips; Guidance, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy Level 1; Bless, Command, Detect Magic, Guiding Bolt, Healing Word, Identify, Sanctuary TheNabster fucked around with this message at 01:18 on May 26, 2018 |
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May 26, 2018 01:14
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Jan'ti grabs the rope and pulls it taut the moment Quill pushes it into her hands. The wreck shakes and quivers as it begins its long descent into the briny deep making the task of staying steadfast and centered on the deck no small feat. The genasi leans back, both hands firmly on the rope, leveraging her weight and strength rather than relying on any inherent dexterity to keep herself standing up right. Even then there is a moment where the pull of the ship's mast, desperate to keel over and collapse after years lodged in this bank, almost overwhelms her. That is, until the light feathered touch of the crowfolk behind her provides a certain divine blessing. The burn of the ropes against flesh fade and her inflamed muscles are soothed, if even for just a moment, and Jan'ti gives one last tug to keep the whole thing upright. "Quickly!" Her voice struggles to overcome the creaking of collapsing wood and sloshing of hungry waters, "Quickly!" Jan'ti in a feat of strength and stamina holds the zip-line taught, providing ample time for the others to gather their treasure and make their escape. Building off the earlier mentioned Athletics check (20) HP: 10/10 AC: 15 Hero Points: 3/3 HD: 1/1d8 Spellcasting: Prepared Spells: Animal Friendship, Cure Wounds, Entangle, Ice Knife Cantrips: Druidcraft, Frostbite, Shape Water(Con) Spell Slots: 1st Level (1/2) GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at 05:28 on May 26, 2018 |
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May 26, 2018 04:34
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With the treasure secured and tied down upon the large dinghy, Urszula doing her part in the drama with ropes in hand, the quartet manages to avoid the grasping flames of the Hells as the two wrecks are consigned to their restless fate. The four stand to watch, bathed in the baleful glow as it is done, as the cursed hulls, along with all of the sail and wood that it might have presented, are swallowed up by the earth, yet with it too go the restless souls. There are few fates after death that provide any rest in the world of Uskara, and the sins of the crew must have weighed heavily indeed upon their souls that they sunk now to join the Old World in the grasp of devils. Perhaps that is why they clung so tightly to Un-Death, even under the hungry gaze of the lacedon. Yet once there is nothing but the still, low waters, and the rolling mist that seems to be receding back towards the mainland, there is another light that begins to shine down upon them, coming in with the tide as in the eastern distance the golden sun begins to rise. It was time to head to camp.   The party of Freewind and FitzCulainn arrive first, just before the breaking of dawn, to be met by a few already stirring and readying for the day before them. The Aqualung stokes the fire with his dried driftwood poker, huddled under a mantle woven of leaves and dried seaweed, humming to himself but not with enough volume to be a bother to any still grasping onto sleep. Soon enough, the camp can spot on the horizon coming back from the edge of the shallows the crew that headed for the elvish galleas, laden with treasure and rowing vigorously to drag the extra launches with them. Thus success was mixed, but even those that had just escaped from the grasp of the Nine Hells could feel the sting that they were not much closer to escape, as neither party was able to recover the cloth or wood needed to construct their means of escape from this seemingly less and less deserted isle. They had perhaps an hour before they would have to set out, to marshal and steel themselves for the next expedition's work. You have time for a short rest and discussion with the rest of the crew and going over the recovered treasure. Feel free to "off-screen" your report as to what happened in your post, beginning in your fiction with the conclusion, though if you leave any details out be sure to mention that explicitly. I'll start up the expeditions at the lava tubes tomorrow morning around the same time. Expedition Rewards posted:The party earns +30 XP total from the two combat encounters, and the treasures of the galleas uncovered. Just to cover everything that was found below, it is the following. I've marked as well what appears magical according to a detect magic ritual. Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 17:07 on May 26, 2018 |
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May 26, 2018 16:56
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 "... So the thing lashes at me as I'm flying out of the hull, and Rust here turns around and put 3 bolts into it, faster than I can blink. Was a drat sight to be sure." Dermid was washing and compressing his ankle, where the carrion crawler had stung him. Blood crackled out of the wound as he wrapped a quick bandage around it, then stood on it to test the pain. Satisfied with the quick work, he pointed at their growing pile of equipment. "That circlet looks interesting to me, and having a set of navigator's tools will help immensely once we start getting off this island. The coffer will be nice to carry a lot of the small stuff as well." Dermid sighed, "but we're still no goddamned closer to getting off this island." Remembering what he had noticed when they had first arrived the previous day, he asked the rest of his compatriots, "Did any of you notice this island while we were on the Ceaseless? It's fairly sizable, and you don't go that far when you're floating. It should have been visible from the ship while we were sailing." Using a Hit die to heal for 6
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May 26, 2018 18:12
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The quick trip back to camp is mostly a silent one on Ranka's part, still caught up in the fuzz of the half memory half vision she'd been thrust into. Eventually the remaining crew begin to rouse from their rest, and join in unloading the bounty the cursed ship had given up. Ranka does eventually decide to speak on what she'd seen "I'd swum down into the hole the reeking ghoul had come out of, and I wasn't really finding anything of worth, but then I find that silver sword stuck in the hull with the circlet there." Ranka indicates the pair and shudders "I'm pulling out the sword and suddenly I'm in a memory, I guess. I can hear myself speaking to this tall woman who'd appeared and the person who they were talking to was layered over my voice... It was odd." Ranka doesn't go into great detail over the specific wording of her promise, but gives a little shrug as she finishes up "Next thing I know me and the other voice are promising to find this person, I snap out of it with a dying person in my hands saying they can finally die, and then the sword is back and the boat starts sinking." Once the reports of ghosts and ghouls is done and treasure sorted out, Ranka points out toward the camp side lava tube "I'm sure some of you noticed the helpful addition of a spigot to our water barrel? Well it came at cost. We were hit overnight by a pair of kobolds who snatched some food and the bucket. I followed their tracks for a time and they seem to have set up in those lava tubes, or at least used them to travel to where they're staying, so eyes open in there." quote:Ranka is interested in one of the gaffs, her cut of the booze/money, and potentially hanging onto the signet ring as a clue, but I'm not super desperate to pick it up. Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 22:06 on May 26, 2018 |
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May 26, 2018 18:16
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 Secca listens to the various reports with rapt attention, particularly when it comes to the matters of the cursed elven ship. It doesn't take much time at all for the seal of the House of Jagganath to catch her eyes, nor her attention, and Ranka's story of a tragic ghost and a dramatic request of uncertain character... What a delight! This is all shaping up to be quite the song, should they all survive. She says, "I would be most glad to assist in unraveling this mystery. Should we return to Empire waters, I've no doubt I could find many who would find the fate of this ship most valuable. I don't suppose anyone happened to catch the vessel's name?"
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May 26, 2018 18:50
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 Tricky posted:Secca listens to the various reports with rapt attention, particularly when it comes to the matters of the cursed elven ship. It doesn't take much time at all for the seal of the House of Jagganath to catch her eyes, nor her attention, and Ranka's story of a tragic ghost and a dramatic request of uncertain character... What a delight! This is all shaping up to be quite the song, should they all survive. She says, "I would be most glad to assist in unraveling this mystery. Should we return to Empire waters, I've no doubt I could find many who would find the fate of this ship most valuable. I don't suppose anyone happened to catch the vessel's name?" As soon as she says this, a talon taps her lightly on the shoulder as a light songbird's whistle attempts to attract her attention. Quill currently has his hands full with what looks like, everything that was possibly on that boat clutched in his arms as he tried to peak around the large stack of books, clothes and other such trinkets they purloined from the now sunken wreck. "Have name, have things. Things all in Sarnathqar. Can't read Sarnathqar, can you?" Secca turns to the kenku, curious as to what he's got. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of Quill's haul, the playful jibe about how she thought he wasn't in the business of theft dying unspoken as the weight of history crashes upon her. She instead says, in Sarnathqar, <"Of course, friend, I speak the true tongue."> Swapping back to Sarumish, she continues, "I'd daresay I can make some sense of it, yes. I can already tell you that the signet ring belongs to the House of Jagganath." Quill nods, and very carefully places the pile of things on a nearby crate as they started to go through the strange set of items. First on the list is the second smallest item after the ring, a sheet of paper. One of Quill's sheets, it contains the name of the Vessel in full, exactly how it was presented on the bow of the ship, he offers it forth to the bard. "Name of ship, first" The name of the ship is a very archaic form of Sarnathqar, and ships haven't been stylized in this way for centuries, though some magical items and old citadels bear a name such as this. Translated, it means "Soul of Blossom and Form." Together it sounds something like "Cantfaerloth." Secca takes the sheet, carefully inspecting it. It's... an archaic variant, it seems, and the grammar takes her a few moments to parse. After a moment longer, she says, "It loses a certain something in translation to Sarumish, but I'd say you found the Cantfaerloth, or the Soul of Blossom and Form." Quill nods and writes this down dutifully on the sheet of paper, putting the translation under the original name. He then picks up with his other hand next, the Ship-Master's ledger, flips it over where he assumes the last few days of writing would be, and hands it over to Secca. The ship master's name was Lithônion Satuara II, and their ledger is primarily transactional in the logs, making note of dates of embarkment and docking for the Cantfaerloth. The ship set sail from recently captured Westenfal, from the elvish citadel of Pretala, and made a circuit in a clockwise motion before arriving in Aitne, where there is mention that the knight-commander had taken into his counsel one of the spiritfolk, and that they were changing course. Satuara claims that the genasi told them of a passage west through the dark continent, and helped them navigate through the Straits of Mortualia. There, Satuara negotiated tribute with Guo-Mo Fu, the green dragon that rules the straits. They found a new sea on the other end, and an archipelago of islands on the southern edge of Praxis. Some weeks were spent gathering supplies with the locals, and Satuara provides some sketches of their designs of the old Sintalese junk ships, now less in use though still an influence. He also notes that they have a large amount of jade and a most invigorating drink called "zha" in their tongue, which you know would eventually be named tea by the Dominion when it took over the archipelago only a couple of centuries later. There is mention that some of the crew decided to leave behind, but not much is made of it in the ledger, which keeps its dispassionate voice through the end. Eventually, the ship sails west, past some mostly uninhabited islands before it runs into doldrums, and it's mentioned that some "jewels" are exhausted trying to propel forward. However, they press on, and finally make their way to the island, though the ledger does not give much reason for the voyage. The island is described much as how you found it, though there is mention of fish and birds, though it is noted they are few in number, and small and well-hidden. They find a deepwater harbor and anchor there at first. On the shore is mentioned that they see the ruins of a city, and a search party under the knight-commander is sent. The ledger then mentions the next day the knight-commander returns alone, and says that the others have found what they are looking for, leaving the genasi and taking some of the other men. Satuara claims then the mission of the Soul becomes to scan the edges of the island, but they are run aground in the shallows with only a skeleton crew. After a week, with no word from the search party, there is an attack in the night by "wretches" that kill three of the crew, that are only lightly armed and armored and were not ready. It is specifically mentioned the bodies are taken and are not able to be cremated. Eventually, a search party is sent, to try and map a route by land, led by the genasi who claims to have once been shipwrecked on the island. The shipmaster remains on the vessel. A few days afterwards, there is another attack, but it says this time "from the sky by the island's masters." It specifically mentions that they "leave only the heads." The knight-commander arrives soon after with a few survivors, it is mentioned, though not the content of the conversation, with the genasi's map of the land route. A decision was made to attempt and set sail, but that the "sky split open" and the Soul was cut in twain. The ship master claims that the knight-commander lead a mutiny, dividing the survivors between two halves. Finally the attempt to be disapssionate begins to fall apart, as he begs that should any reading this should leave the island at once before it claims them too, that "neither earth nor sky is safe," and that he only wishes he could say goodbye to his "Armaitiel." The last entry is simple. "they are coming" Secca looks at the last entry and swears, <"Knight's Blade."> After a moment collecting her thoughts, she relates what she found to Quill and adds, "I'd say we've found ourselves in a place more dangerous than we could have ever fathomed. Curses, monsters, and more besides." Quill's chipper expression as she recounts the activities on the doomed voyage, slowly starts to drain over time as the tale winds to it's end, until he is looking somewhat worried , tapping a talon on the edge of his beak in thought. He takes the book back from her and hands her the next item in the pile, the Journal. "This one." He taps on the book. "Belonged to Knight-Commander. Very curious of contents." The knight-commander was one of the famed leaders of the Sunset Crusade, Eldred Jagganath III. After the war with the Commonwealth of Sarum had subsided, the Sunset Crusade led the elves in a circuit of the then-Eight Seas, the elves sought to hunt down devils and demons and bring the light of the Axiomatic Church, which they sheltered and integrated with their own culture in a syncretic fashion with their ancestor cult and archfey patrons, to many corners. It was a bloody but chivalric ordeal, and created many of the traditions that would become the knighthoods of Westenfal, which was one of the primary battlefields of the early years. Sir Jagganath III, the Duke tir Elanqar, was a restless commander who is said to have been lost at wyrmsea towards the end of the crusade, taken by the Demon Sea. It appears that was not entirely accurate. His journal mentions that in Aitne, he met a water genasi by the name of Cagnazzo, who told him that there was a passage through the dark continent Praxis. After the shattering of the Parliament of Old Sarum, the elves had found themselves (ironically enough just as the new rulers of Bight, the mind flayers were) hunting down the wizards and magisters that once ruled that island, who were said to spread out to the remote corners of the world, such as enigmatic Tetrathia.(edited) Cagnazzo claimed that there was a land of high magic named of in the legends of his people, the Sintali, claimed survived the flood, and that there were magisters that came through the Sintales who sought that land. He had been on the crew of one of the wizard vessels, and had seen that the Lost City of Sinjh, which like Sarum was a vestige of the old world, could be found. It seems that Jagganath believed that it was worth seeking out, as the power was needed to match the mind flayers that were becoming a new threat with the Dominion, and he took Cagnazzo on as his advisor. Little mention is made of the ship master save in passing for his advising against moving through uncharted waters, and it seems the knight-commander, instead of claiming they won passage, was able to beat the young wyrm Guo-Mo Fu in a battle of wits and bravery to win passage. He also makes note that the culture of the Sintalese is overly obsequious and needed the backbone of the Imperial touch, but remarks that several of the crew (certainly not any of his crusaders devoted to King Balor and the Nine Saints) became entranced by the local culture and had to be left behind. When they finally make for the island, the crusader makes landfall and finds the city is in complete ruins. There seemed to be no people at all in this Sinjh, and disappointed, he sends Cagnazzo back to the ship. They find that there are still guardians however, "great four-armed monsters that make fine foes", and that some are lost in worthy combat. He says that he senses a great evil in the island, and that it seems to be at the center of the island. He then claims that the ship master abandoned their party at the city and attempted to sail out during a storm, stranding them behind, making it necessary for them to press further in. He claims to start being able to understand the text and writings of the Sinjhi people, and that there is a great temple to their "monkey god" at the foot of the mountains. Without much detail as to how they got there, with nearly a week without entries, Jagganath claims success in finding the temple but needing supplies as too many men were lost to "astral demons", and that the island must be cleansed. He mentions that Cagnazzo returns and lets him know that the mutinous ship master is stranded, so they made to reclaim the ship before the "demons and their vile servants" can kill the remainder of the crew. That is the last entry. Secca again relates this all to Quill and says, "Quill. I'd... hesitate to suggest this otherwise, but I think we may need to consider dispatching this evil before we leave. The combination of the two tales, it leads me to believe that this island is a trap... one in which we've already fallen. The shipmaster's mention of the sky splitting when an escape was attempted reinforces this. If the ship was as you've all described, I doubt any raft we could craft would stand up to such a blow." Quill nods solemnly, "Yes, we found ring, ring of Jagganath, on Sea Ghoul. Quill suspects, this is, was, Sir Jagganath." He takes the book and places it back into his bag with the Ledger and takes a few more notes. "Multiple mention of winged foes, moving in land better idea, shores very unsafe before, extremely unsafe with context" Secca nods, "If the sky and earth alike are avenues of attack, I can only suggest we find either a heavily wooded copse or reclaim a tunnel complex. I'd not relish being hunted from both sides." Quill nods in agreement, and raises a talon. "Something else, found this in Commander's chest." The next item that he takes from the pile and hands over to Secca is of course, the treasure map.  "Tried to discern, could not. Arrow in chest made thinking hard." From the context of the journals, this appears to be the map that was made of the land route Cagnazzo made, and it seems to be his labeling here and there. The Sarnathqar is added on after the fact by the knight-commander, who marks some of the tunnels and mentions that the demons' servants attack by night from the underground, traveling from their warrens at the central volcano of the island. It mentions that the demons themselves take flight, but seem to only descend once the fighting has won, and ambush with "a hundred arms" and a "shocking sting." It also claims that they reclaimed one of their "lightning-guns" but could not discern how to use it. It makes some notes as well that the "degenerate apes" seems to rule the leeward part of the island and keep the demons at bay, by some means unknown, but that they were of little help and attacked their camps at the edge of the temple, forcing them to retreat before they could break through the second seal. On the back of the map, there's a little more, written in a more hurried tone. "I am all that is left now, but the evil still stirs. Forgive me, my liege. I do not go down Doresain's path without knowing that my righteousness will keep my soul from the Abyss. They must be stopped, before they finish the ark." It appears to have been written perhaps much, much long after the rest with a different ink and quill, though in a similar handwriting. As Secca dictates these things Quill adds small numbers next to them and then writes down the translation on his first sheet of paper. "Would like map for few minutes." He said as he reached into his robes and pulled out the hand made coastal map he had made the day before. "Add details to mine" Secca hands it over, lost in thought. Lightning guns? Apes? Demons attacking from the warrens? She tries to wrack her brain for any stories that might shed light on what they seem to have stumbled upon. The map made by Cagnazzo outlines the basic shape of the mountain range, shows the crater basin with a draining river to the deepwater harbor though separated on a plateau by a cliff, and the winding river that leads down to mangrove swamps and this "ruined city." It appears the river you planned to travel up further this day was the one they used as well, starting from the estuary and then going through a mountain pass into the other side of the jungle. "Tell others before river trip, yes?" Secca nods, "Yeah. I'm more convinced than ever that something here needs to be stopped, but there is no use hiding the danger. We will live or die on this island as one." She sighs, slumping against a barrel, and says, "What do you make of it all, Quill? I'll admit this talk of demons seems a bit beyond my experience." quote:Quill and Secca attempt to try and discern what these creatures might be from the descriptions in the books they have just read. Secca rolled Religion to see if they were Fiends from Elven folklore and rolled a 4, Quill rolled to figure if they were some sort of creatures similar to the Carrion Crawler encountered and rolled a 13 Secca: It's been centuries since the elves have focused their efforts on the fiends. Most have accepted that the need for banishers and exorcists has mostly passed, as their influence has been eclipsed in the world. Surely there was knowledge out there, but you were never much studied on it. Your ancestors, the fey, were much more interesting, and much more pertinent in the modern world. You cannot think of any that particularly would fit in this case. But you do remember the story of Doresain. Doresain was one of the followers of King Balor, a shee of great strength and bloodlust, who followed Princess Herath on her own crusade against the mindflayers. The blood elf was driven mad and swore himself to the demon lord Orcus for power, and created the first ghouls by eating his own kith and kin. Ghouls have ever since had a special tie to elves, and their paralytic poison does not work on full-blooded shee, though it's not something commonly talked about outside of elvish circles. Quill: As with Secca, there's no specific knowledge that seems to connect all the dots. But a carrion crawler is not merely an animal. They are found in all the low places of the world, feasting on rot and death. They are unnatural, unaging creatures, however, not simple scavengers. They appeared when the Sink did and spewed forth horrors from the Far Reaches. In the fourth century, with scholarship faint and religious zeal great, you get the impression that it's possible these weren't fiends at all, but aberrations. The only problem is, with such things, is that they are all so uniquely terrible and awful, that until you encounter them, it will be impossible to know their origins or motives, and even then, it shan't be easy. Secca says, "Whatever is here is important enough to drive a noble shee to commit the darkest of acts, to seek power in any means that he could grasp... in this case, consuming the flesh of his brethren." She sighs and rubs her temples, "I cannot imagine what it would be. I fear the only answers will lie upon the path they paved for us." Quill nods, "Quill has no idea of demons. Suspects aberrations, but category is broad, attached to many things. Secca is correct, answers found only through witnessing for self. But forewarning hurts no one" As a quiet silence descends over the two of them, pondering the gravity of the situation they have all found themselves in, Quill pips up a little. "One more" He reaches back into the pile and unfolds the fine elven tunic in one hand, and the adorned Knight-Commander's cape in the other. "Do you like?" Secca runs a hand along the fabric as Quill holds the clothing out she says, "Yes, of course! They're quite beautiful." She holds a hand against the sleeve of the silk coat she'd commandeered the prior day, hesitant. "Though... perhaps Jan'ti or Lucielle would like the opportunity to refresh their garments?" Quill considers this, and holds them both out to Secca. "Perhaps one, gift to Lucielle, from you?" Secca hems and haws for another moment, but Quill has struck to the heart of the matter. Lucielle would look quite fetching in that tunic. She takes them and says, "I'd much like that, Quill. I'd feel much more secure with the Knight's Blade at my back. And..." She grins wryly. "Sorry for trying to sneak a peek at your book. It still looks interesting, don't get me wrong, but I won't pry." Quill considers this and then, there is the sense of a smile. "This is fine." --- quote:From the spoils, Quill is going to want to put the Ledger, the Journal, and the Antiquated maps into one of the chests for safe keeping, but is keeping the Treasure map to transcribe the details onto his own map. He has handed over the fancy clothes to Secca. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 22:53 on May 26, 2018 |
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May 26, 2018 22:50
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 Sleep had not been too restful for the minotaur. His afflicted mind, though language had mostly returned to him, led to restless dreams. Dreams of blood and rain, of thunder and rage - and fear. Still, he wakes on a new day, without mindflayers or dragons threatening to end his existence. When the ship crew returns, Mazhar has already started on his morning exercises. A healthy body is a healthy mind. Such he was always taught, and even cursed psychic interference cannot strip this away from him. It lets him focus as he does pushups against a plank of wood for stability, not having to speak, not having to think. Only the movement mattered. He doesn't stop as the others do their stories, only pausing momentarily between sets, listening with a critical ear. When he finally finishes, he takes a swig of water and some of the leftover fruit for a breakfast, eyeing the treasure. "I have been trained with the longsword, but I shall not take it up. Such things are more for the janissaries, with nimble arms and feet." he speaks - slowly, still, but more fluent, now. "Others may make better use of it." He does take a handful of coins - mostly out of automatism - and gathers about a net, giving it a practice throw out towards the open beach. "This will do. So, then. We move for Quill's treasure before we make for a better camp?" Taking my share of cash and a net.
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May 27, 2018 16:24
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Jan'ti grew antsy waiting for their castaway crew to wake from restful slumber. The sun slowly rising over the horizon was a sign of lost time. The storm was coming and they had little time to waste before it arrived. But here they were, gathered round recounting stories and reading books as the bullfolk tested his mettle against the earth itself. Had she bothered to fixate on the impending disaster she might have been driven mad. But she had found something else of interest. For the first time since the Ceaseless sank, Jan'ti approached Dermid on the beach of this strange island. The others, caught up in their routines, would hopefully leave the two to something of a reunion. If prisoners and casual acquaintances could have reunions that is. "<Your ankle.>" Primordial was such a commanding tongue. Even the touch of consideration and concern in her eyes couldn't stop the words from coming out as a demand. "<You can walk on it?>" "<Yes, washing it out with salt water and bandaging it helps>" It was always enjoyable to speak in Primordial, Dermid thought. "<The creature had caught me more by surprise than anything. Shaking off the toxin was strenuous on the body as well>"(edited) "<It sounds like your expedition went better. What do you think of our fellow castaways?>" Dermid continued, looking out to the sea, searching for the oncoming storm. "<Quill Scribbling is a sweet soul.>" It was an odd way to describe a crowfolk, let alone one imprisoned in the bowels of the Ceaseless, but he wouldn't be the first among them with a touch of good in his heart. "<I trust him. Smartest crow I've ever met. I've honestly never seen anything like him.>" A small reserved laugh follows, accompanied by a smile. Even now, she could appreciate the little miracles like the blessings Jehuti brought his cleric. Jan'ti turns her head to look out across the ever expanding sea before continuing. "<I wouldn't want to be Ranka's enemy, that much I know.>" Her words took on a certain grave, forewarning tone at that. "<Don't know how many of us she'd take before we laid her low but it wouldn't be worth it. Much better to have her slaughtering our enemies.>" "<The other halfling girl... was frightened. Superstitious folk. Not much help at all.>" There's a beat as the two meet eyes again, "<Cowards often share a liar's lot.>" There wasn't much more to say there, and admittedly, Jan'ti didn't have an ounce of proof for her suspicions. The girl could just as easily be an innocent trapped among criminals. Jan'ti knew full well one didn't have to commit crimes of substance to be sentenced to a cruel fate by the Dominion. "<And what about them?>" She gestured, vaguely in the direction of Rust and Nax. "<What do you make of them?>" "<Nax will follow whomever he deems the strongest. He is a pragmatic coward, if he feels you are weak, he will betray you.>" Dermid let a small curl of disgust crawl onto his lip as he thought of the man, "<He would never last on a Verani ship.>" "<Rust is dangerous, but knows piracy through and through. He will leave if he feels like there is no value, but he understands the way of the sea. The freedom if offers. He knows his own weaknesses, and his strengths. He will fight his way out to the bitter end if he's cornered, and with little regard for landsman morals. He is a pirate through and through. I can respect that, and feel some kinship, given our shared backgrounds.>" "<We don't turn our backs on him.>" It was too simple a solution to be practical but Jan'ti certainly spoke as if it was a crystal clear solution, "<And we rid ourselves of the pirate Nax at our first opportunity. He'll earn his way to port and nothing more.>" "<He's cruel. Not like->" The words came out suddenly and stopped just as abruptly. Exactly what callous comment had struck deep was anyone's guess but Rust Freewind had certainly made his mark on her. "<But I trust you, Windspeaker. If you know his heart I'm sure you can speak to it.>" There's a short silence at that. It was a lot to thrust responsibility for Rust Freewind on anyone, even the pirate princeling himself. Jan'ti shifts her weight from one foot to the other and takes just a step closer. The genasi let her fingers gently brush against the back of Dermid's hand before she pulls the offending appendage away, "<I'm glad you survived.>" "<I know you dislike Rust. Think of him as an incredibly effective tool if he's utilized in his own way. He's very effective at killing, and he is unapologetic about it>" Dermid looked down at the hand that brushed against his as Jan'ti took it away, setting his mind awhirl. It took him a moment to find his words "<I am glad you survived as well.>" Dermid paused before looking back at the rest of their motley crew. "<What a sorry lot we are, but seas and storms forgiving, we will survive.>" A smile slowly takes form on plump lips. Her cheeks run hot as she begins to blush. It's enough to share such a simple sentiment, for now, and in truth she's embarrassed to have brought it up at all. A small moment of shared silence never hurt anyone anyway. Jan'ti joins him in turning back to gaze over the rag tag group they had managed to piece together. "<Yes.>" Even as the moment passes her smile lingers, "<I believe we will.>" GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at 06:49 on May 29, 2018 |
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May 29, 2018 06:46
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Rust's annoyance the last hour has been palpable. The wound in his leg was no longer bleeding but he had packed it with as clean of cloth as he could muster and wrapped it just in case it re-opens, but it wasn't a hindrance and he wasn't limping on it, so he wasn't going to complain about it. Sitting down on a driftwood log, Rust lays out the dismembered trap components and the handfuls of choking powder on top of one of the chests. "I don't know what it was but that gods damned shipwreck was no shipwreck. Probably never sailed a day in its life. It was a distraction, created to lure in scavengers and kill them. My best guess is that whatever is here with us wants to be the only thing on this island. Make sure nobody goes anywhere alone, because whatever is here will prey on stragglers." Rust pulls his kit back together, making sure to gather the Carbine, his bedroll, and the other miscellaneous items he left at camp for his earlier expedition. "We strike camp as we leave for the morning. If it gets left here, it stays here, not that I reckon it'll stay here long because if something is watching us, it's going to come scavenge behind us." Rust pours out the last of the bottle of rum brine and rinses out the inside with a small amount of water. Shaking the inside dry, he goes over to the cask the other group brought back with them and takes his share of the booze in the bottle. He takes a good pull of the bottle before setting the cork and stowing it back in his backpack. His eyes land on the Starmetal short blade, unsure if anyone laid claim to it he asks "What's the story on the short blade 'ere? " ------ Assuming it isn't that weird talking sword that Ranka found earlier, Rust will claim the short sword. Also going to take his share of the money and booze. If nobody wants any
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May 29, 2018 14:42
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 "The fact that such abominations infest this islands is worrying. It seems we might be unable to find a civilized port here for starters after all. Still, scouting the place might have its uses, although I guess I should avoid going there alone." Johann grunts as he examines the ancient navigational tools retrieved by the group. "Although were we to build a raft, we do have all the conditions to leave this place. As long as we avoid being attacked by the Dragon at least." Taking a share of the cash and the shipwright tools.
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May 30, 2018 04:02
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 The lunargent longsword can confer the effects of protection from good or evil to the bearer so long as it is wielded in one hand and brandished, once per day. This use refreshes with each sunset. This use does not require attunement, but whomever uses it in this fashion must make a promise to one day return it to the lady Armaitiel, and it seems to transfer from one promise-maker to the next. Whether that has any impact remains to be seen. The brass circlet, when fitted with the amethyst, allows one to control the wind. At each sunrise it resets to 1d4 charges. With an action, you can expend a charge to cast gust of wind as a 2nd level spell. It requires attunement, and you must be a spellcaster. The spell save DC is 15. The starmetal shortsword is sharper and more accurate than other blades, and in Rust’s trained hands would be able to cut through defenses, even mystical ones, with ease. It adds +1 to attack and damage rolls when used. It must be attuned, and you must be proficient in its use.  The opening into the lava tubes near the sheltered estuary is well hidden with foliage, but Urszula, perhaps feeling self-conscious about her cowardice at the galleas, and also because she's the designated torch-bearer again, scales up on some rocks to show the yawning mouth going inside. It goes about sixty feet down, and seems to actually go down into the estuary itself, as one can hear the trickling of water just barely. It is thick with webs, as well as two wooden crates, the cocoon of what looks like a humanoid corpse, and the strongbox just at the edge of sight and vision below. With the hammers, rope and pitons, it would be possible to rappel down, though it would be treacherous indeed if the webs were as inhabited as one might assume. What is your approach?  The map here and on the roll20 is a cross-section, rather than top-down.   The lava tube entrance near the camp leads on a mild downward grade and then begins to move upwards. At the end here it is wide but low to the ground, causing many of you to have to crouch on occasion beneath ledges and stalactites. While it is mostly dark, there is an occasional skylight coming in from above, occasionally marking your progress and indicating that it goes a fair ways in. You have been forewarned of the possibility of kobolds, and are alert for traps, but there is no real sign of anything of the sort as you first make your way in, until about a half-mile through. At this point, you reach a fork, allowing you to go west or south. Both appear to be natural flows of the original lava flow, without signs of excavation, but you'll have to be mindful of the way you came in from here. What are you looking for? Which branch do you take? The person in the lead holds the torch. Who is it? The coast stretches for a few miles east, terminating in what appears to be a mangrove swamp at the southern cape of the island. The three searchers pass unmolested, even past the false cog that had given Dermid and Rust trouble the night before. There is not many other signs of shipwrecks in the water, but there is the a chance for salvage here or there, depending on how focused they are on searching for it. There is also a chance for danger as well, as the jungle seems different this day, under a cloudy sky. The buzzing clicks and shuddering wails that come from it sounds almost like a real jungle, but the precise sounds are alien to one's ear, a symphony of insects called out in the early moist morning. It may be possible to turn through the cape and reach the other end by the end of the expedition and have time to make it back, but that will mean crossing through the mangroves of the swamp. What are you looking for? Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 08:25 on May 30, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 04:45
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Leading the group through the tubes, as her elvish eyes can pierce through the gloom better still than the others despite the torch she carries, Secca comes to a halt in front of the fork. She looks back to Lucielle and Johann and says, "Which way do you suppose we should go?" She looks down each path a bit, trying to examine any differences, then adds, "It looks like the tunnel to the right is going to head more inland, so that'd probably be the tunnel that goes on longer." She's hoping to find the supplies, mainly, as an all-out brawl with kobolds in their preferred grounds sounds as if it'd be nothing more than a fool's errand. Though, if they do run into them... well, Secca simply hopes that there's an opportunity to parley before hostilities erupt. The kobolds, should they prove amenable to coexistence, would likely have quite a bit of information to share about the island. With the talk of demons and apes and more still fresh on her mind, that's sounding more valuable than ever.
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May 30, 2018 06:44
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Mazhar peers down with a furrowed brow. "A treacherous hole. It would be unwise to climb down before we know how many inhabit it." He looks around the immediate area for a large rock or thick enough branch to pierce the webs. "Perhaps we can give them a knock on their door and see who's home." Lifting up his designated battering ram with a small grunt of effort, he carries it on his shoulder towards the entrance to the tube. "You may wish to stand back a bit. I shall attempt to hold the line." With another grunt, he lifts and dumps the projectile down the hole, hearing it rumble down the tube, and takes a hold of his anchor afterwards, just in case. 22 STR check to throw this thing and ring the doorbell.
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May 30, 2018 08:40
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While Ranka was less than pleased to have been back in the water so soon, she spent most of the downtime between arriving back and camp and setting off once more, scrubbing at her body to remove any remaining essence of the brackish water she'd been diving in. It took a good amount of time, but eventually she was back to the sub-standard hygiene level the rest of the castaways had started their stay on the island at. Sooner rather than later it's time to head out. Ranka does a quick rummage through her things, changing weapons, and tucking the dead ghoul's signet ring away in her mantle's hidden pocket before pressing it down with her now filled flask. The small sip she'd taken of the sweet nectar of the elves had been a blessing, but it was important to keep the good stuff stashed until she reached a truly dark moment. Her equipment sorted Ranka found her traveling companions for the morning and set off, there was plenty of beach to cover and likely a lot to be found before the oncoming storm deprived them of anything too nice. As she picks her way down the beaches, she nods to Dermid 'That trinket looks good once it was all snapped back together. I found the ring alongside this old thing " she gives the sword balanced atop the gaff, also balanced on her should, a quick flick "I guess the person was the captain, but something bad happened. Found them impaled through the face with the sword here." Ranka lets out a pleased noise as she sees something jutting out of the sand and begins kicking away the debris, she turns to Nax "You're a man of many talents, that bird of yours something more than I think, perhaps more well trained that I guessed? Or just a friendly tag-a-long you met on the path here?" quote:Rolled a 20 Investigation to try and rustle up some materials to make a sail from before the storm blows away anything that might be used.
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May 30, 2018 10:12
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Kneeling at the precipice and looking down as far as the firelight will allow. Rust gets his sight on the chests, now wishing he had Dermid here to do that floating trick he did back at the shipwreck. Thinking of an alternate plans, Rust speaks up. "You guys think we could tie our rope off to a gaffe and try and fish that stuff out?" He reaches into a vest pocket, grabbing a handful of choking powder. "Or we throw some of this crap down there and see what shakes out, once we start disturbing the web we're liable to bring the buggies out anyway, I'd rather we do so topside than halfway down this descent." ---------- Going to go ahead and run a perception check into the tunnel, rolling a 23. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 16:26 on May 30, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 16:19
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 As she marches along with the group, Lucielle had been carefully scanning the area around them, looking for any potential traps that might be laid, and when they come upon the fork, she stops, and looks at both paths. "A good question. Which path do we take?" She says, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "The right path might take us more inland, but we do not know what waits for us there. Same for the other path. At times like these, when you're left with two choices, there's only one way to decide," she fishes out her special coin from her pocket, and flicks it high in the air. She catches the coin before it falls, and says, "Angel, we head south, skull, we go west." She uncovers the results of the coin flip, and, much to her surprise, the coin landed on the angel side for once, "Well, then," she says, with a wide grin, "I suppose we're heading south!" Coin flip!: 1d2 1 OOC: Decided to go ahead and roll for the coin flip. 
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May 30, 2018 18:10
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Quill was finding himself starting to hop from one foot to the other the moment he laid sight on the lockbox at the bottom of the deep spider hole. The book was in eyeshot and yet he couldn't reach it and that just felt terrible for him. He turned as Rust made some suggestions for the plan ahead "Heavy boxes, old gaffs? Liable to break, no, need people hands instead. We check spiders first, but delicately so-" He said, as he started to direct a talon towards the hulking Minotaur Mahzar, just in time to see him heft a large rock into the hole. Quill flinched as the rock demolished through some of the webbing and started to bounce and crack all the way down, it didn't seem to be dislodging the lockbox however. Quill reached a hand towards Urszula on the opposite end of the hole and once again made the torch in her hand grow brighter with the words of the Ennead. Quill is gonna cast Thaumaturgy to make the torch brighter and see further into the hole for his action at the moment. HP: 8/8 AC: 16 Hero Points: 3/3 HD: 1/1d8 Prepared Spells: 5(+2) Spell Slots - Lvl.1: 1/2 Cantrips; Guidance, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy Level 1; Bless, Command, Detect Magic, Guiding Bolt, Healing Word, Identify, Sanctuary TheNabster fucked around with this message at 22:37 on May 30, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 20:16
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"A choice as good as any, missy. " Johann says with a long sigh. He follows Secca closely, sword in hand as he carefully walks near Secca. Whatever they find here will likely to find a fistful of arcane energy to its face if it doesn't come in peace, although the various potential traps in this place will make scouting a dangerous prospect indeed...
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May 30, 2018 21:38
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Jan'ti stands there dumbfounded at the spectacle before her. She cups her hands and covers her face as Mazhar lobs debris into the spider's web. There's a sigh of resignation as the genasi accepts that their time on this island will be a trial by fire from start to finish. "Going to be angry." She chides the minotaur before joining the others to stare down into the pit searching for a hint of movement. Unfortunately, the sudden brightening of Urszula's torch catches her off guard. For the moment, Jan'ti certainly wasn't going to see anything down that dark hole. 10 on a perception check HP: 10/10 AC: 15 Hero Points: 3/3 HD: 1/1d8 Spellcasting: Prepared Spells: Animal Friendship, Cure Wounds, Entangle, Ice Knife Cantrips: Druidcraft, Frostbite, Shape Water(Con) Spell Slots: 1st Level (1/2)
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May 30, 2018 21:57
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Mazhar's stone toss makes it a good twenty feet down, cleaving through webs and clearing something of a path down one could rappel through with some difficulty but without fear of getting caught in the webs, but once it reaches the center the thick webbing and its almost steel-like tensile strength is more than even his great strength can manage to break through, at least with the materials on hand. It'd have to be something very large indeed. At first, it doesn't seem to do much to alert the ambush predators within. If they are there, it is likely they respond to it more like a threat, waiting to feel out and see if the prey struggles against the web or of it is merely some disturbance. However, the Freewind's sharp senses, combined with the suddenly flaring torchlight, catch him the glimpse of legs and a hissing stridulations from what looks to be a side tunnel on the left hand side of the skylight, which at least one of the spiders is nested in, though not immediately visible and seemingly recoiling from the light. He can also hear another skittering down deeper, or perhaps more, but his senses indicate only two possible points they are nestled in.  The southern pathway seems level and on a slow grade upwards, deeper into the interior of the island. As you pass under a skylight, there is a slight sense of anxiety in the air. You see pawprints in the sand that has accumulated at the bottom, leading further in, and another branch that heads each, that seems more recently excavated and burrowed out, while you can also make further south instead. Further south, or the side-tunnel? Nax brightens at the mention of the crow, though he seems to make little of it with a shrug. "Nax found it starving in a cage in the magistrate's quarters. Perhaps a courier bird, though this far out at sea, it wouldn't get very far." The pied crow tilts its head back and forth, looking down at the halfling at her examination, as if appraising some shiny object, or piece of carrion. When Ranka spares her look out towards the water, she thinks she spies a smaller bit of wreck, but its deeper out into the shallows. The sails are likely far less intact than the galleas's was before swallowed up by the Nine Hells, but it might be worth a closer examination. With her getting a higher point of view, either by climbing a nearby tree or on the shoulders of the two gentlemen accompanying her, she can confirm that some of it looks intact, if likely soaked. The only issue being is that by now she has noticed that in the Shallows, while the local wildlife seems a bit more vibrant in number of crustaceans and the like than the lagoon even without the scavenger's feast, the reef sharks that troubled them before when rescuing the gadja might be an issue, and this would require much more than simply wading out, but a dive a good eighty to a hundred feet from shore.
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May 31, 2018 05:27
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Mazhar looks almost impressed as the rock bounces in the middle of the web. "Stronger than it appears, it seems," he says, looking back at the party. "But still leaves us with a problem. Spiders didn't take the bait. Gonna be trouble if I get stuck." With a grunt, he kneels at the edge of the pit, looking at Urszula and then back down. "At least they're afraid of the fire."
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May 31, 2018 09:05
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Ranka, immediate thought on food, gives the shallows a good glance and nods "We should head back out here after the storm, see if the seafood here holds up. It'd be easier to gather in number." She continues to scan the shoreline and finally spots the sunken wreck. A long drawn out sigh escapes her lips as she considers what needs to be done, mumbling to herself "It fed on those sailors in whole, so sated for the moment?" Something changes in Ranka's face, her eyes hardening with resolve. She pulls her flask and takes a long pull from the Elven cider, might as well have a taste before doing something stupid. Placing her flask back in its pocket she turns to the two with her "There's sails out there we need. I'm not happy about the idea of this storm coming along and us coming back out another day to find they washed away." Sinking her feet into the sand, Ranka ponders what they'd need to do and gives a little half shrug "I'm not inclined to risk clan or crew on foolish errands, so I'm willing to head out there and take a shot at those. Not much of a swimmer, but I can probably sink down to the bottom and crawl through the sand some to avoid notice." She begins to place everything extraneous she's carrying and glances out toward the water, giving her companions a chance a moment to suggest alternatives. quote:I feel like doubling back to camp to get a boat, and then again to here probably exceeds our expedition time slot by quite a bit, so I'm okay heading out to try getting the sails. I'd prefer to have help, but Ranka is nothing if a bundle of bad decisions, so she'll do it alone if needed haha.
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May 31, 2018 10:35
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Standing back up, Rust says nothing about the spider he has spotted as he silently circles around the hole, looking for an angle. Eventually finding himself standing over Urszula, Rust kneels down tapping her on the shoulder once to get her attention. When she looks up toward him, Rust puts a hand over his mouth and winces his eyes in an exaggerated fashion to indicate the should close her eyes and hold her breath. Rust didn't want her catching a whiff of the powder and dropping the torch just yet. Quietly, Rust unslings his crossbow and sets it down on a flat rock behind him, in arms reach but far enough back that it's not liable to slide into the hole. Packing the handful of choking powder into a tight ball, he hurls it down to the spider cubby, hoping the irritation will drive it out. ---------- Went ahead and rolled an attack to throw the choking powder at the spider, not sure what the target AC would be between cover and the splash/area effect of the choking powder potentially disrupting that. Got a 20 vs AC.
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May 31, 2018 16:21
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| # ? Apr 23, 2024 14:48 |
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Quill pensively paced the edge of the hole as he took in what he could see and thankfully there didn't seem to be a distant sound of thousands of angry chittering legs crawling out of the hole to eat them alive, but what they had didn't give Quill a lot to work with. Burning out the webs would drop the boxes deeper into the hole so that was out of the question, and Mahzar was the only one who was deft enough to manage the scale into the hole and yet strong enough to haul the boxes back. He took the rope over to some of the trees nearer the whole, stretching it out lightly, turning it, looking at it from different angles. Quill attempts to try and maybe thread the rope into some sort of makeshift pulley system in the trees to make it easier to raise and lower Mahzar in the hole, but he doesn't roll well enough to make it happen  Shaking his head he returned to the group and handed back the rope. "Quill thinks, one two people hold rope, rest point bows down hole in case spiders happen. Quill gives blessing of Jehuti for guidance but only one, who wants?" He says, holding up a talon-ed hand in a 'high five' position as it glows softly. HP: 8/8 AC: 16 Hero Points: 3/3 HD: 1/1d8 Prepared Spells: 5(+2) Spell Slots - Lvl.1: 1/2 Cantrips; Guidance, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy Level 1; Bless, Command, Detect Magic, Guiding Bolt, Healing Word, Identify, Sanctuary TheNabster fucked around with this message at 22:20 on May 31, 2018 |
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May 31, 2018 20:18
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