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Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage





Secca chimes in, "Well said, Quill! Urszula and I found some evidence that there may be more supplies from the Exalt. There were signs that the wreck had been picked over... and not by our now-departed friends from earlier. I'd dare say we might find some sign of them if we explore the lava tubes nearby and, if not there, then certainly further inland. I plan on exploring them come first light."

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TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun





Quill thought about this as he listened to the Noisy Half Elf known as Secca speak, the plan seemed reasonable enough; they'd check out the shipwrecks, go to the lavatubes, head further in land and meet in the middle, or middle-ish rather. As a way to get a grasp of the island it was the best option they had so far, but it would help if they had a map to work off of. Quill paused, raised a talon, and reached into his bag to pull out a sheet of paper, and the ink and quill bottle. "Moment please."

Quill is gonna try and sketch out a rough map of everything he and the rest of the party has seen so far, which is mostly this stretch of coast and the few entrances to the various things they were planning on exploring tomorrow.



He rolls pretty good

GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




"Not a witch." Jan'ti jabs a finger in Rust's direction. Her brow furrows and teeth grit, the only thing that keeps her from launching into a tirade is the crowfolk's response followed quickly by Secca's. The spiritfolk woman grumbles under her breath and wraps her arms around her knees.

Tardzilla
Aug 31, 2006





Lucielle nods in agreement to the plan, "Yes. Moving inland would be a wise idea, and as for the lava tubes," she turns to Secca, "I might join you in your little expedition through them, if you'll have me. I'm sure it'll be a better experience than listening to this old, cranky Dwarf talk about our "inevitable" failure," she says, hooking a thumb over at Desider, in a tone that's meant more to tease the gloomy old man.

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage





Secca pats Jan'ti on the shoulder reassuringly, "Surely our foul-mouthed friend simply misspoke. I'd dare say none would accuse a Priestess of Dagon of such." She shoots Rust a look suggesting that he clarify his thoughts quickly. She brightens at Lucy's offer, saying, "Of course! I shall welcome any and all who choose to walk with me. I'm sure it will be a pleasure, Lucielle."

DeathSandwich
Apr 24, 2008

I fucking hate puzzles.




"It don't matter what you call your craft, from where I'm standing it all looks the same to me." Rust shifts his attention from picking his teeth with the shark bone shard to picking at grime underneath his fingernails. "For what it's worth, it looks like there's more of those tunnels over by where the spiders are, though by the look of it you may need some climbing gear to make any headway into it. It might be treacherous going without some rope and anchors.

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010




HP: 7/9


Ranka is an odd sight slumped against a box as she is, her hands really the only part of her moving at all, but she pipes up between little thwicks of wood being shaved down "Going down beach to find stuff," Ranka waves a knife wielding hand non-commitally, pointing at Nax it seems, or perhaps just flailing.


The better part of a half hour goes by before Ranka jams herself into talks again, she'd managed to summon the effort to turn her head toward The Exalt and had been staring for quite some time. Her voice cracks when she talks again, but there's a bit more purpose in it "Gonna work on the sloop. Couple hours to hollow it out enough. It'll be tight, but better than sleeping exposed, at least until we find a better spot to camp."

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun





After a few minutes of quiet scribbling as Quill recalled the terrain he saw with his own eyes to the best of his extensive and photographic memory, he finally put down the quill and presented his work to the group.



"Work in progress. Better than nothing."

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.




"Aye, farce it is then," though for someone resigned to his fate, the old git was in good cheer, his voice whistling through his teeth. The ball had already started rolling a bit when the half-elf prodded, but now it was at full steam, biting as a gadfly he was. Laying back down, he drank his ration of water from his flask, as quickly everything started coming into motion, being mapped out as a proper crew.

At the halfling's gesture, Nax seems somewhat surprised, but quickly nods. "Nax prefers open skies to an earthly coffin. The only thing one finds in tunnels are spiders, men's greed, and kobolds." None of which particularly appealed to him. "The redcoats were marching from the south, around that bend. The late Sunniva wanted to seek them out, but the equally late Ganzorig thought to go to ground, deeper in the island." He considers for a moment, and looks a bit around as folks talk about going further in.

"This island has taken many wrecks, despite being further west than any would sanely travel. And we have not seen even the bones of her castaways in the sand. It has picked clean all that came before. What is our plan to rid us of this place and make east for the Cazzerides, Nax Tirrinu would like to know."

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage





Secca looks at Nax, "Well, Nax Tirrinu, I suppose there's only one answer to that: we either find a seaworthy craft in our explorations or make one ourselves, then we depart. I'd not relish being picked clean by the island." She shrugs. "I'm sure one or more of us can craft such a raft in a pinch. Ranka seems a keen hand with wood, Desider surely has ideas of a fitting design, and we all can pitch in to gather the necessary materials."

GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




Rust receives no small amount of side-eye for his comment. The genasi sits and stews for a bit the label of witch causing her no small amount of discomfort and frustration. There was nothing that could be done about it ignorant as he was, and Jan'ti herself had been so vocally adamant about the virtues of working together in her own way that she could hardly bite his head off for such a minor infraction. It is as the evening begins to grow late and the fire starts to dim that suddenly she falls forward. Now, on her knees with her arms extended outward and hands cupped together as if to present a token to the castaway crew she begins a small chant in an old tongue. Something primal and base with each syllable pronounced with such dignity and great purpose, "<Loud as thunder, heavy as snow, show me that which I soon will know.>"

A sudden gust of wind gathers around Jan'ti and swirls about the spiritfolk's outstretched hands. A small plume of thick vapor rises from her outstretched hands and forms a pleasant little cloud, floating jauntily in the air. Quickly, the cloud begins to grey, and more vapor rises to join it, until a mass of dark clouds filled with erratic bolts of light take form. On closer inspection, a heavy rain pours from the clouds and seems to be filling Jan'ti's outstretched hands quite quickly with a glimmering sort of water. And then, with one swift motion, the genasi tears her hands apart and the fantastical display ends.

"A gift." A smile slowly stretches across her lips, "Storm tomorrow. Be ready."

GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at May 21, 2018 around 22:50

Plutonis
Mar 25, 2011





Johann has an annoyed expression as he listens to Nax continue to yammer on the third person. And whether the dwarf is or not a pirate legend makes no difference to him, these types are oft than not a hindrance rather than assistance. "I never built a raft before, but I can well sail it towards safety, bard. But I believe we would do well to find a high place to scout this island from. Perhaps there might be some sort of settlement on the other side that we have missed."

Plutonis fucked around with this message at May 21, 2018 around 22:49

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.




A storm is the last thing any of the castaway's need, and the Sea-Bride's gift brings a quiet that is interrupted by the dull tone of the drowned man. It will mean some will need to wake early indeed to make it out to the wrecks in the shallows. The Sintali's unnamed pied crow lets out a mocking caw, flapping its wings and taking flight, to perch at the edge of the hull overlooking the crew. Nax made himself the first to retire, looking all in all quite relaxed despite their circumstances. "We have no maps, no sextant or spyglass. It would be as blind men to go now into the water. Perhaps the drowned man is right. Nax should like to go upriver as well."

"The mountains!" Urszula offers at Johann's suggestion, looking quite excited. "The rivers should lead inland towards the slopes. Maybe we can reach a higher place from there? Should we build a raft or use the launch? It could get a bit crowded..." She glanced between Mazhar and the other men, considering. "If we can find a camp site on higher ground, it should keep us out of the rain as well." Her mind seems to be racing but she finds herself yawning, stretching her long arms up and leaning back on the still warm though quickly cooling sand.

At this time, though, it seemed many had their hearts set, and talk of ideals had all but passed. One by one, those who were to awake early would need to start rest soon, and those that lingered before their watches could only see an empty horizon and bright starry sky. Before the Freewind disappeared completely, the dwarf regarded him. "Don't think I didn't hear ye question. I'm old, not deaf. Aye, I seem to be cursed with living, but should we survive another night, and have a little grog, mayhaps we can talk as brethren then." His gap-filled smile sunk back as he made to find his shelter in the shadow of the wreck as well, emaciated body certainly nothing near as impressive as what the stories might be.

Even if he were a "legend," he was little more than a shadow of it now, yet his prodding did do some of the work intended. It remained to be seen if his dire warning about the dragon would hold out.


Watches begin now.

Ranka and Secca may take Inspiration for playing to their Flaws at personal risk this day.





First Watch:
Whether uneventful because of a quiet night, or because the two noblewomen had distracted themselves with their company, it is hard to say. They do have the advantage of Secca's elfin senses, which are not inconsiderable and proven themselves several times on this journey, and the stars light up her world in a perpetual twilight rather than dark of night. The jungle remains disconcertingly quiet, and the rest of the crew rested peacefully. The first Nocturn comes and goes, with nary anything to say for it.

Second Watch:
The same cannot be true for the second. Both are keen to any possibility, listening for anything that may come passing through the night. Both notice something strange. The jungle, while it has always been bereft of the expected sounds of wildlife, seems especially quiet. It lacks the hum or music of insects as well, giving all the impression of the dead calm before the coming of a predator. They both feel their skin bristle, and that uncanny feeling that they are being watched by some unseen observer.

It is Johann Seahawk, however, that notices something far more unusual and alarming. Turning his attention away from the jungle for just a moment down the coast, he notices movement. Down near the shipwreck at the mouth of the rivers further down the coast of the shallows, he sees figures, black and outlined only by the faintest starlight, moving in and out of the water. They are silent, and with no features he can discern from this distance. Their gait is loping, almost on all fours, barely humanoid but seeming to have hands and feet all the same. With continued observation, it seems they are taking something from the wreck into the jungle... Or perhaps they have left something there.

They are far enough away that they do not seem an immediate threat, and if not careful it would be easy to alert them that you are aware... But what could they be doing there? What are they, and what are they planning?

What do you do?

Third Watch:
With Ranka feeling the sting of her disease, only exacerbated by the meager taste she gained from her flask, and Quill fretting over his life's work in the cocoon of a monstrous spider, neither is at their best this night. They are alerted that they have failed in their duty by the sound of trickling water, as they find one of their water barrels has been tapped. Hammered in is a copper tap, with the spigot left running, draining it down to a quarter amount. They also find all the crabs and their tin bucket have been stolen as well by the thieves!

A quick investigation by Ranka reveals the culprits: The pawprints left in the sand are those of kobolds, and likely a pair of them by the pattern. They lead over towards the tunnel near the camp, where they are likely sheltered. There were many kobolds on the Ceaseless, and despite their puny natures they are well-known for being quite resourceful and difficult to be rid of them, even if you wanted to be.

Does this change any plans?

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at May 22, 2018 around 10:06

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage





As the conversation dies down and people go their separate ways for the night, Secca finds herself sitting alongside the honorable Lucielle Valentine. The half-elf leans back against a piece of driftwood, gazing up at the stars for the moment, though still alert and aware of any creeping oddities that might haunt the night. She seems quite a bit more exhausted than she's let on but determined to stay strong against the challenges to come.

After a moment, she snaps a twig in half and tosses it into the blaze. The pieces of wood crackle and snap as Secca says, in Heathish, "Ah, dearest Lucielle, I must say it fills my heart to bursting to see you in such fine health. I'd not expected the both of us to survive the revolt, let alone the shipwreck. How do you fare?"


If it seems that Lucielle is exhausted, it's because she is. The ex-noble has been trying her best not to show it, but even she has her limits. Leaning back against an empty crate, she feels her eyes getting heavier, and they slowly begin to fall, but the sound of the twig being snapped wakes her back up.

Responding back to the half-elf in her native tongue, she says, "Yes, it good to see you as well, my friend. I feared that I would never see you again, but I'm glad that you are still alive and well," she smiles, as she always does, but the smile is much more forced, "I wish I could tell you that I am doing well, but if I am being honest, I..." she drops her smile, and sighs, "...Am exhausted. It has been one trial after another after the mutiny, and I fear it's starting to take its toll on me."

Secca nods, "I hear you. The trials break on us one after another, not unlike the waves against rocks." A small smile blossoms on her face. "But neither I nor you, nor the others, seem the type to break. Bend, perhaps, but only to snap back."

"Indeed," Lucielle chuckles, "The Reaper will have to try harder if it wishes to take any of us." She looks up, at the starry night above them. "The old man, Desider, he seems to think that we will fail. That our struggle to survive will amount to nothing, but... I don't think I agree with that. It might be naive for me to say this, but I believe... we will get through this. All of us."

"Of course! It's building up to be quite the tale, even so far. I daresay we'll never need pay for drinks again." Secca pauses, then considers, "Though I suppose I've never actually needed to pay for a drink." The soft light of the fire plays across her skin in ways that seem, frankly, unfair for how battered and abused she's been by recent events. "I think, as long as we keep common purpose, we'll make it. We all surely have secrets, agendas even, but I doubt any of us wish to die in this locale. Though, speaking of secrets..."

There's a meaningful trail after those words. She is all but begging Lucielle to pry, to express nothing but the utmost fascination as to what the half-elf's secret could be.


And that indeed gets Lucielle's attention. "...Yes?" She leans closer to the half-elf, showing great interest in what she has to say. Lowering her voice a little more this time, she asks, "What is this about secrets?"

Leaning in close, close enough that her breath teases against Lucielle's ear, Secca says, "Urszula and I found something when we were exploring the ship." She pauses. "Can I trust you to keep what I'm to tell you a secret?"

Her interest piqued even further now, Lucielle says, "Yes," she holds a hand over her heart, "I swear, by my mother's name, that I will keep whatever it is a secret between us."

Secca beams, "I knew you were my favorite for a reason! Wait here." She dips into the darkness for a few moments, returning carrying a decent size piece of driftwood. The half-elf slips down beside Lucielle, holding it out for her to see like one might a lost kingdom's ransom. "What do you suppose this is, Lucielle?"

"It..." Lucielle blinks, "Is a piece... of wood?" Her expression shifts from curiosity to one of slight confusion, "You're not going to tell me that this is some sort of ancient magical driftwood now, are you?"

"Even better. Now watch this..." Secca runs her finger along one side of the wood, searching for a particular point. When she finds it, the wood seems to shiver and let out a soft purr. After a bit more attention, it ripples, blinks its carnelian eyes, and shifts entirely into a cooking pot. She looks at Lucielle, "Don't fret, it's quite loving. We found this one on the ship. It'd been hurt long ago, a dagger left within it, and we helped mend the wound."

Lucielle lets out a low, surprised gasp as the previous piece of wood transforms into something else entirely. She stares at in astonishment, and it takes a second or two to register what Secca just said to her ears. "...'She?' So this... is a living being?" She reaches out a hand to touch the strange creature, but she hesitates, drawing her hand slightly back, "What... is she, exactly?"

The copper pot shudders at Lucielle's reach and a line that curls back on a lipless, toothy mouth, all pointed and needle-like, opens up as it gives a low, grinding hiss. Whatever it is, it looks more dangerous than loving.

Secca rubs the pot, making soothing noises, "A mimic. It's... a scavenger, of sorts, a creature that pretends to be what it is not such to lure prey within reach." She looks between the two, considering the less than warm response, and says, "Perhaps it'd like a meal? Why not fetch a crab or two, we'll smooth things out with that most universal of desires."


Lucielle, sensing the danger, completely retracts her arm away from the mimic. "...Well, if you think that it would stop it from thinking of me as it's next meal."

She shortly returns with two crabs in hand. Unsure of all this, she looks at Secca, and asks, "Are you sure this will work?"

Secca says, "I'm guessing we have a case of bad feelings towards people, what with the stabbing and all. We just need to convince it that people can be good, too!" She thinks for a moment, then adds, "It liked my song, last time, so I'll try to keep it calm with that while it sees you put the crabs near it. If it's still grumpy, we can try later."

"If you're sure," Lucielle says, with an air of uncertainty in her words, "As long as it doesn't try to bite my hands off again. I've grown quite attached to these things, and it would be quite troublesome for me if I happen to lose them."

Secca holds her free hand over her heart, "Lucielle, dear, I'm always sure about everything." An impish grin crosses her face. "That's why everyone loves me."

Without further ado, she begins to softly intone the ballad of King Balor's Host as she rubs the pot reassuringly.


"Yes, yes," Lucielle slightly rolls her eyes, "And I'm sure we're all blessed to have the great Seccacosantza Tolto VII, the Vidame tir Cuothr in our presence," her lips curl up into a small grin, "You're lucky you're so charming, otherwise I might start thinking you might be a little full of yourself," she teases the half-elf.

With that said, she gently lays down both crabs next to it, and waits to see what happens next.

The purr starts again as Secca's hand provides the uncanny surface of the mimic with all the love and attention it could possibly require. The maw splits the surface of the pot, once more, but it seems quite a bit less concerned with Lucielle's presence this time. After a moment of careful consideration, the trio of eyes focus in on the closest crab and a purple pseudopod spears outward with considerable speed. It snags the crustacean and drags it back into the maw. After a moment of slightly disconcerting crunching, it lets out a cute burp. The second crab shares a similar fate mere moments later, then the maw vanishes once more.

Secca tilts her head toward the pot once more, motioning for Lucielle to pet it as she continues singing.


The speed at which the mimic grabs the crabs almost causes Lucielle to jump back in shock. She looks at Secca, and then back at the mimic, suddenly feeling like this was a terrible idea. Still, she decides, against her better judgment, to trust the half-elf, and extends a hesitant hand out to it. Okay, it's not trying to bite her. That's most likely a good sign!

She puts her hand on the pot, and, when she sees that it isn't going after her like it did the crabs, pets it, like Secca told her to.

The quiet purr increases in volume as the mimic makes its contentment most evident to the pair.

Lucielle begins to relax a little more now that the mimic is pacified. She inches a little closer to it, and continues to pet the creature, "You know, this little thing is actually adorable, in it's own, strange little way." She giggles, and adds, "She's actually starting to remind me of a pet I used to have when I was younger."

"Oh? Do tell." Secca continues to lavish their mimic friend with all sorts of affection as it works on digesting the crabs. "I take it they weren't quite as good at hiding?"

"Oh, no. And their teeth weren't as sharp, either," Lucielle goes from petting the mimic to scratching it like a regular pet, "...My mother gave me a puppy as a pet for my 10th birthday. Her name was Snowball- mostly because of her white fur- and she was the most adorable little thing. She was energetic and so full of life," there's a slight hint of sadness in her voice as she tells the half-elf about her old pet, "...I miss her so."

"Mm, she does sound like a joy." Secca takes Lucielle's free hand, squeezing it, and says, "...We'll make it, yeah? We'll get off this island, no matter what that doom-saying relic says. Not even if he is a legendary mariner."

"...Ah!" Lucielle's cheeks turn into a rosy pink shade, "Y-es. Yes!" She stammers slightly, "We'll- we'll get out of this! We'll survive this. I know we will! You, me, everybody else, and then we'll... we'll..." Her words begin to trail off, and for some reason, is having a hard time looking her half-elf friend in the eyes.

Secca gets a coy look in her eye. She cups Lucielle's chin, pointing the woman's face back towards her own, and says, "And we'll...?"

"...We'll..." Lucielle's face starts to burn so brightly it would be able to provide its own source of light. The usually confident girl finds herself at a complete loss for words, as she feels herself drawn more and more into Secca's eyes, her breathing getting heavier and heavier.

The tension that is building breaks as the purr subsides just slightly, and a great purplish pseudopod transposes itself between the near contact, right before the lightning strikes, as it shows the first possible real affection towards the human, apparently charmed more thoroughly through this whole matter.

"Ah!" Lucielle almost falls on her back from the sudden shock, but she quickly manages to regain her balance. "W-well, um..." she clears her throat, a faint blush still on her cheeks, "It, um, looks like your plan worked! I think it might actually be charmed by me now," she says, with a slightly nervous chuckle.

Secca winks, squeezing the rogue's hand once more, "See? The Vidame tir Cuothr has done it again." She looks far too pleased with herself, but how could she not be? Everything has fallen into place, exactly as she thought. "Say goodnight to the little one, I should take them back to Urszula before she awakes and mistakes a common piece of driftwood for our friend."

Lucielle squeezes Secca's hand back, and the looks down at the mimic, "Too bad. I was really hoping I would get to know her better," she gives it one last show of affection before it's taken away from her. "Oh, and Secca?" Lifting her head back up, she looks at the bard, and asks, "Perhaps after our watch is over, you would, perhaps, care to share a quick drink with me?"

"For you, dear Lucy, I'd share two." Secca chuckles at that, despite their only option being barreled water, and pads off into the darkness to return her small mimic companion to its bed.

Lucielle waves at the small mimic she's become strangely attached to and finds herself looking forward to spending a bit more time with Secca afterward. Perhaps things aren't that bleak after all.

Wahad
May 19, 2011



Everything by design.




He wakes from his slumber with a grunt, standing up and stretching his weary limbs. The darkness was not a great bother to him even if he couldn't see very far, but at least the stars were a welcome sight. He nods at the ladies heading off to their own sleep, and then at Johann, who wakes with nary a sound. Courtesy of being a dead man, he supposed.

The two sit in silence for a while, taking their duty seriously. But a man can only focus for so long, and Mazhar's head swivels like a ship in a storm. The silence unnerved him, as unnatural as it was, and it made him restless. Having the man next to him keep still as death, barely even breathing as he watched over the beach, only added to the dread. "I am not prone to superstition... but this island holds ill omens within the silence." Another grunt of discontent as he stands up, though he tries to keep himself from pacing back and forth. "I do not like it."

Johann has his saber lying on his lap, sitting on the sand as he takes his watch. A blank expression marks his face and he answers Mazhar with an eerie calm. "There is no silence. The sounds of the Sea never cease." He points towards the rolling waves that gently hit the beach. "Whatever dangers this island holds, they are nothing compared to what hides within the depths."

"Perhaps." The minotaur takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. There was no reason to be frightened, yet. In this silence, anything that would come for them would be heard, if not seen. Mazhar sits back down slowly. "Perhaps. But for now, the depths I am unconcerned with; it will be unlike the abominations of the deep to rise to the surface to swallow some castaways."

"Unlikely, but not impossible." The revenant shrugs with a wry smile. "That might be one of the reasons we are keeping watch after all."


Mazhar gives Johann a flat stare, but goes quiet for another good long while. "I noticed your insistence on burying the dead. An honorable practice," he begins, gesturing over towards the improvised graves. "But why so immediately? Why not when we are all safe, and have time without immediate need for food or water?"

"It's the right thing to do." Johann says as he looks over towards the graves. "And because the last thing you want is to leave business unfinished before they catch up with you."

"Have experience with that, then?" Mazhar levels the question quietly. "A man does not end up in your state without some unfinished business of his own, I imagine."(edited)

A cold stare is Johann's answer. "That I do. But this shipwreck has brought me closer to those I need to deal with in a way."


Those to deal with. Aye. Mazhar had his own target, in that way, though he still had no real clue who his vengeance should be directed towards. His Aghor would know. Ideally, once they got off this island, Hyklos would be the first route; but he knew that the others might not see it that way. Vengeance would have to wait, for him. The minotaur lapses back into quiet contemplation, though he remains vigilant for possible threats.

"Hm." Johann waves to Mazhar a while later, gesturing him to he keep his silence and pointing him to the shadows near the wreck.


The minotaur looks up at Johann's noise, then follows his finger towards the beach. He sees nothing, at first, but then...shapes. Moving. In and out of the water. Curious. He keeps silent, but grabs one axe, just in case. He raises his eyebrows at Johann, then nods over towards the figures, as if asking if he could see what they were.

The revenant silently follows Mazhar, sword in hand. Leaving the range of the torchlights might become problematic considering whatever those things might be, they are definitely nocturnal in habit.

There are two torches that were made for the shipwreck venture before dawn, though to light them and approach would surely give it away. Whatever is there, is certainly aware of the party from the campfire if their eyes can see, though whether they are paying the guards any special mind yet is hard to saw from a distance, without any reconnaissance.


Mazhar holds for a moment at the edge of the camp. "Leaving the camp unattended might be a bad idea," he murmurs to Johann, looking back at the jungle for a moment. "Have you any knowledge of creatures like these? Would it be wise to approach?"

"These might as well be shadows for what I know." Johann answers back, his brow furrowing. "It would be unwise to get close to ascertain their identity. Best to keep our distance."

Johann and Mazhar keep their distance but continue to observe. It does seem like the creatures are preoccupied with the wreck of the sloop on the shore. They cannot hear anything from this distance, but it looks like one may have gone below deck, or perhaps simply went into the water. However, it is impossible to know precisely what their motives are, only that after about an hour of activity, they slip away, back inland, disappearing behind the cover of trees on the shoreline.

Mazhar goes to sit back down at his initial spot when the figures move away again. "Hrm. Best to pass on the message that there may not be much left," he says, settling down eventually for a peaceful end of the watch.

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.




The first party, after a quick discussion under the dim, dim twilight of early morning before dawn, packs their things and prepares the dinghy to launch from the shore across the shallows. It is chilly, surprisingly so for an island in the Tranquil Sea, and that along with the almost complete quiet of the jungle adds a certain pall over the proceedings.

A few times, the bow of the dinghy hits sand, as the water has become so shallow that the ridges of the bottom jut up just enough. Each time it's a bit nerve-wracking, as the sound scrapes against the hull. Yet the castaways keep rowing, moving further and further from the firelight of the camp. As they approach the barrier shoals, it seems to become deeper, and there are less scrapes against the sea floor, but creeping out, it feels from every direction, is a slowly swirling, rising mist from the waters, obscuring one's vision until the light of camp, two miles away, is a barely visible mote of blurry light in the distance, and then is gone.

It is in this thickening mist that the four crewmates turn back to look for the shapes of the shipwreck, which they were bearing down upon, and the dark outlines of the old war galley become visible through the mist soon enough. The sleek lines and draconic design speak of elvish make, though that has not been the style for hundreds of years. They rest there just out of sight, like a ghost from the past, and the four cross through the still waters without incident.

Soon enough, they make landfall on the shore. Urszula, with the caviler on her back and shortswords at her hip, strikes the flint and steel to light up the improvised torch, and with some effort it is finally done, lighting up a bit of the beach, and through the mist reflecting against part of the hull of the exposed aft of the galley.

The water is shallow, but the aft appears flooded and half-sunk into the sand. It has been here for a very long time indeed, and the shoal seems to have more built itself around it over time. With it so buried, access seems limited purely by making way through the top hatch down into its belly, though it would be an easy climb up onto the deck. It is at an incline but it is gentle, and would make balancing upon it easy.

The front portion, barely visible as more than just an outline through the mist, is sixty feet out from shore and appears to be a bit more on the surface. The water out there is higher but not by much, and one could (if they were not a halfling) wade out there on foot and dive down to climb up into the lower deck from the water, or climb up its surface onto the deck. However, the front half is far more steep in its incline, and might be a bit slippery to scale.


What is your approach?





The three castaways exploring the coast heard warning before setting off from camp, were given a warning from Quill and Ranka, who heard it from Mazhar and Johann. There was some activity at the wreck near the mouth of the river, dark loping figures that moved in and out of sight, and returned to the jungle. It would do well for the three to keep that in mind as they made the approach.

After walking two miles down the coast, without much need for a dinghy or the like and with the Sintali holding a torch in hand and walking astride with Rust in the van, they do finally happen upon the wreck. It is only a good thirty feet from coast, and the water is only ankle deep until about twenty feet in, at which point it begins to deepen around a collection of rocks, upon which you three stand to take stock of your surroundings.

It appears to be a cog, an older ship without any visible munitions or use in war. It looks in surprisingly good shape at a first glance, save for its torn open belly under keel. The ground it is in seems deeper, like a ravine, or that the cog itself might have cut through into the ground. A light mist forms off the waters, but it is nothing obscuring.

Considering the warnings given, the castaways are alert to any signs of passage, but there are no tracks, no broken branches or anything immediately visible of the sort, at least not without a closer examination. The only life that seems to be around is the occasional shellfish in the tidal pools, trapped in the little eddies in the sand.

The torchlight reveals four means of ingress, once they have finished exploring the interior. There appears to be a hatch on deck, as well as a door leading into the hull on the aft and bow side. As well, one could simply dive in and come up in the deck from its opened side, though there is little visible from this distance within.


What is your approach?

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at May 26, 2018 around 16:01

DeathSandwich
Apr 24, 2008

I fucking hate puzzles.




Rust took a moment to consider the old bones of the broken vessel before him. He had been warned by the others before they left camp that there could have been something scurrying about in the dark, but the three pirates hadn't seen much of anything on the walk. Rust slings the crossbow over his shoulder before moving up. "Enough gawking, gentlemen. We got a lot of ship to cover and not enough time before we're due a storm and a tide."

Rust leads the way into the icy murk of the water before them, half wading and half swimming. By the time his boots find purchase on the slanted deck his clothing and armor are already thoroughly soaked through.

Speaking up so the other two could hear him as he clambers up the deck to the cargo door, Rust speaks out "It's probably better to start below deck and work our way up. We'll hit the captains quarters last." Rust gets a firm grasp on the trap door and heaves it open, looking down into the inky blackness as best as he could. "Nax, I need a light over here, if you don't mind." he says coolly. The exchange they had yesterday still on his mind.
----------

Assume I emptied out my backpack before heading this way so that we potentially have more storage capacity. Leaving the carbine and shot back at camp to keep the powder dry while we're murking around in a tide pool.

Perception check before the torch shows up at disadvantage = 4

DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at May 22, 2018 around 18:49

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.




The Sintali makes to comply, hopping forward on the stones and making to join Rust up on the deck. However, there's a horrendous sound, a groaning of the wood beneath Rust's feet. He hear sa strain, and the snapping of some taut cables. He is caught completely off-guard, but not entirely flat-footed as his body makes to move on instinct, as the floor of the deck moves to collapse under him, intentionally sabotaged to collapse under his weight into a waiting pool of still water below, malevolent intentions written all over it.

Make a Dexterity save, DC 12. Failure means you take 1d6 piercing damage from falling on some crude spears below set beneath the pit, and find yourself in the flooded deck below, about waist-deep in water. Success means you roll back to the edge before falling in. You do not have Disadvantage to notice any other surprises so long as you're within Nax's circle of light. An Investigation check might reveal some others as well.

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at May 22, 2018 around 19:00

DeathSandwich
Apr 24, 2008

I fucking hate puzzles.




"Hurry up and wuhhhhh~~~" was all rust could make out before the deck below him gives out, dropping him into the murk below and the jagged splinters boat oars below. Wrenching shards of broken wood out of his arm, Rust pulls one of his cutlasses with the other arm and begins swinging wildly more out of frustration than anything."Dirty son of a squidfaced fucker..." he growls as he chops through the oars and finally calms down after a handful of seconds.

Finally able to get some vision of his surroundings as the Sintali brings the torch over the edge of the newfound hole above. Rust takes a minute to regard his surroundings before moving to continue.


----------

Nat 1 on the save, yay!
5 damage, because of course I roll high when it's bad.
New perception check now with torchlight = 12

GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




Oh how this took Jan'ti back to her childhood. They had lived far on the outskirts of the city when she was young, a small home with the meagerest of amenities, along a beach of white sand and crystalline water. Exploring shipwrecks on foggy mornings was almost a family tradition, if a family one one could have traditions, and there was a certain kind of serenity to the genasi's expression that must have been so odd for her crewmates. She struts across the sand to the boat with a smile and glides her fingers across the old hull, lost in a momentary reminiscence. Without a word spoken, she hops up and aboard the deck with little effort. Now crouching on the deck and looking down at her companions, Jan'ti motions for them to follow.

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010




[Third Watch the previous night]

It takes some time for Ranka to be roused from the slumber she's fallen into, the drugs she'd been fed by Nax certainly not helping matters, but after a few shakes and a less than friendly nudge of a boot she's up. The after effects of Nax's "medicine" aren't exactly pleasant, but the pain in her shoulder as been reduced to a healing itch. The scene isn't much different that it was from dinner earlier, Ranka is still carving away at a dozen round discs made of light driftwood, but now her fingers are moving much more deftly and smoothing away flaws that her intoxicated hands couldn't deal with. Ranka breaks from her work after a time and coughs awkwardly to address Quill "Glad you managed to get out alright..." She glances out toward the waves "I'm happy I managed to get you in on the plan, but it doesn't change the fact that it felt like poo poo to try pressganging someone into a dangerous situation." She coughs again, her throat dry from the aftereffects of Nax's drug and a tense situation weighing down on her "So uh, sorry about that whole thing. Again, glad you made it out okay."

Quill had not slept well through most of the night. It was not because of his missing book, although that didn't help, but more that he had never slept without a roof over his head in all his years at the temple and in the musty back alley establishments in Iram. His internal clock and general restlessness eventually roused him from his fitful slumber to join his Halfling friend on the lonely night watch before the dawn. He had been watching the whittling Ranka that was doing with keen interest, in between watching the nearby jungle and shoreline when the statement directed at him caught him a little off guard.

"No issues. We all live. We continue to live. This is good yes?"

Ranka gives a slow nod "I guess for the time that's true." She pulls a piece of sanding paper and begins to grind away the rough edges on one of the discs in her lap "I suppose I can't rightly complain about being alive." It's been a good six or seven hours since Ranka had recieved an injection from Nax, and now that thr intoxicant was beginning to wear off, the gentle sway of the world was returning. Clutching at her mantle, Ranka draws her flask out and in a practiced motion unscrews the cap, but she gives a disappointed sigh when she realizes it hasn't been magically refilled. Placing her flask back in it's hidden pocket, Ranka sighs and corrects herself "Don't know how long I'll personally last without a stiff drink, but we'll make do with what we have."

Quill taps his beak a little, watching his smaller friend having some issues, then he remembered the little trinket he had found earlier. The compass that pointed to Cockaigne, he had perhaps hoped that this was some sort of semi-magical location that pointed too... He wasn't sure where it'd point to actually but he expected it to at least point to somewhere, but instead it seemed to point to something.
Deciding that, maybe his friend could use a little pepping up he shuffles over to her side of the fire, reaches into his robes and pulls out the little magical compass. "Gift?"

Ranka tilts her head and gives a little smile when she sees the compass "That's a precious thing to give up in a situation like ours... You sure?" Ranka tilts thd compass back and forth, taking in the details of the fairly battered craftsmanship, when she notices the phrase carved in the bottom "to cockaigne? Someone you know?"

"No. Identified, points to alcohol." He taps his talon on the compass and points into the direction of the needle. It was pointing towards one of the visible shipwrecks from the shore, even when he moved her hand slightly it still pointed directly at it to prove his point. "No good for me. Good for you?"

Ranka barely manages to keep her eyes from widening so hard they split "That's... Uh, that's frankly amazing for me." Her grasp on the compass is almost reverant, and it's clear her mood has massively improved. It takes a bit before Ranka can even think to put the compass away and refocus on the here and now, but she eventually can peel herself away. Refocused she turns to face Quill and smiles "If there's anything I can do for you or make for you to repay this, you just need to ask."

The Kenku grins, he'd hope she would like the gift and it seemed as though she did greatly. He motioned back to his side of the fire to resume his watch and-
*Sputt*
Looked down in confusion as to what he stepped into. Wet sand? This far from the shore? It seemed to be coming from a river running from the water barrels near the- "Awk!" He ran over to the water barrels in a start but, no it was too late it seems. There was a very noticeable lack of things that the pair should have been watching, such as the crabs, the bucket and a whole 40 Gallons of water and an even more noticeable copper tap hammered right into the side of one of the water barrels. He quickly reached out and turned it off.

Ranka is on her feet in an instant, fists at the ready when she hears Quill let out a burst of alarm. Shes lets out a little gasp when she sees the scene and mutters a nimhi curse under her breath. Jamming a drying out branch in the fire, Ranka thrusts a temporary torch over the sand and narrows her eyes, there were a spread of light footprints moving toward the barrels and deeper ones weighed down leaving. With a shake of her head, Ranka moves to confirm her suspicion and gives one of the footprints and sniff, and the copper tap on the barrel the same. Wrinkling her nose she pulls back with a sigh "Kobolds. Looks as though they headed off toward the lava tube the hobgoblin from yesterday was trying to get to." "poo poo." Ranka kicked a clump of wet sand up and off into the distance "Looks like they're headed toward the lava tube off down the beach, the one without spiders, we should make sure the folk headed out that way know."

Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at May 22, 2018 around 21:30

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage



Urszula follows in Jan'ti's wake, bringing the torch with her, but she doesn't hop up just yet. She looks back at the pair still in the boat.

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





Ranka lets out a faint whistle between her teeth when the galley party makes land "This is bigger than it seemed from camp..." People begin to depart however and she's quick to follow. It's hard to hide her natural curiosity about a ship so big, but Ranka manages to refrain from running out waist deep into the water to examine. It was a work of art compared to the lashed together junkers her people maintained, but she'd need proper daylight and some hours alone with the beast to truly learn anything major about it.

Discarding her focus on the ship, Ranka hustles to keep up with Jan'ti, there's a palpable electricity in the air around Ranka as she follows, the compass to Cockaigne open in her palm and a smile on her lips "Whether we find anything else, at least we'll be finding the important things here today."


HP: 9/9 AC: 19 Hero Points: 2/3 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. (Pointed at the far end of the galley)


quote:

Rolled a 10 investigate to learn what I can about this boat.

Ranka refreshes to full hp and regains half her spent hit dice (minimum 1.)

Ranka receives a MAGICAL BOOZE COMPASS!

Ranka rolled a 20 investigation with Quill's guidance in effect, so we discovered that kobolds robbed us and headed off toward the camp lava tube.

Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at May 22, 2018 around 21:42

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.






The ship is positively ancient, but is made of fantastic materials that have stood the test of time. It creaks under the weight of the genasi as she climbs up onto the deck, but remains otherwise solid. It might be worth breaking down if one were inclined to think of it in such a way, yet it feels much more like the bones of a great leviathan than merely a discarded wreck. It feels like it had a life, a soul once, and you aren't entirely certain if it has left.

There's a soft sound of waves lapping as a wind crosses through over the wind, a chilling breeze coming from the south, cutting to the bone. The once starry sky above is barely visible through the clouds.


The ship is old, that much you can be certain of, and does not appear to have been disturbed for some time. It was cleaved in two, but there are no signs of damage or battering. The sand appears to have accumulated over many years, and it has more or less remained where it is, perhaps having drifted a bit in the shallows before finding its equilibirum. From what you see, you wager an interesting conclusion: That the ship was not wrecked and washed ashore in the same way as the sloop or the Ceaseless, but had entered the shallows of its own power, and likewise broken in twain there.

You look for the markings, and from the figurehead and other clues you think back to the shape of the ship. It is certainly an Imperial war galley, a galleas, from the Sunset Crusade. Few ever got as far as here, in those days. You could probably date it to having been constructed in the fourth century post-diluvian. These ships usually had a knight-commander on board, and were sent out to prosleytize and root out evil across the world, but records only indicate they reached as far south as Aitne, never crossing the Demon Sea. You do not understand the Sarnathqar script, so are not certain what this vessel was named, but you can memorize the script to transcribe and translate later.

Investigation: Building on Ranka and Quill's observations once shared, you are able to notice something. You are in a better vantage point, and by stepping a bit further down, you look to see if you can find any evidence of what capsized the ship. No struggle, but there are burns. It appears that whatever carved it in half did so with a burning power. Or a lightning bolt? It is far wider and more clean, almost surgical compared to what brought down the Ceaseless. Perception: There is an ill wind on the air, carrying down on the breeze. There is just the faintest smell that you smell, and it disturbs you. It is the faint smell of death hidden under the driftwood, of a fresh shipwreck. The smell of those who could not escape. Yet, this is not a fresh shipwreck. This is one that is surely many, many hundreds of years old.

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





Ranka takes another moment to run her fingers along the deck of the elder ship not noticing the whiff of rot in the air, her nose not quite rid of the foul rank of the kobolds after she'd taken another whiff to pinpoint their location, she's tempted to pull a hammer out of try to pry free a board, but commits to the idea of coming back another day with a large crew to pull the ancient wreck to pieces. The wood seemed to be alright and it would save her hours or days of work in setting up a proper shelter or perhaps even a cutter of their own.

The overall state of the ship likewise sparks a hope, between the compass Quill had gifted to her pointing to some decent amount of stowed booze and the overall state of the outer hull, there was probably a decent haul of nails inside to be pulled from the parts of the boat that remained mostly above the waves. Ranka's hopes were similarly raised over the prospect of finding some measure of forgotten bounty, no sailor worth their salt would just abandon a good stash of alcohol, so it was quite likely there was a bounty of forgotten things laying about that could be of use in the coming days, whether on the island or after the party had made its escape.

HP: 9/9 AC: 19 Hero Points: 2/3 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:

If Jan'ti wants to head on in after alerting us to the totally undead sailors, Ranka will one hand her quarterstaff and hold the torch with her other before dropping in first. I'm open to other approaches though.

berenzen
Jan 23, 2012

Wings Out




Watching Rust fall through the trap door, Dermid dashed over to the edge where the pirate fell, checking to see if his compatriot was safe.

"One second, I'll be right down" Dermid's hands were already moving in an arcane pattern as he spoke in Auran, "<Twisting Tendrils of Lightning, heed my call to grasp and hold.>" As the incantation ended, a hand of skeletal-looking blue lightning leapt out of his hand as he flew down beside Rust, following the genasi down.

"drat, you're injured." He looked at Rust's wound, "Healing's not my area of specialty. We'll need to get the bird- Quill, I think its name was- or Jan'ti to look at it when we reconvene." Taking a look around, he continued, "Well, we might as well get started here. But while we're alone, I think we need to talk."

"If we're getting off this island, it means that we're gonna have to be sailing, which means that the issue of captaincy is going come up sooner or later. Now the way I see it, is that you or I are the best candidates for the position, given we both have officer experience on pirating vessels. And while some of the others might have some sailing experience, like the undead fellow, from what I gather, they don't have necessarily have the experience evading ships of authority.

'So I say we talk this out, all civil-like, so when the time comes for out motley little crew to decide who's captain, we can put forward a more solid candidate for captain, with the other of us bein' the first mate."

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.




A nasty wooden punji set in the water, its sharpened end sticking just above the surface where its barely visible, spears itself through one of Rust's thighs, causing a more grievous wound than expected. They are spaced out, hastily put together it seems. But it was obvious now that whatever those figures were in the night, they set traps. They knew, or guessed, that the castaways would come to this ship. As he works through the pain, Nax perches and leans in, pointing the torch light down inside in the belly of the ship, while Dermid floats down with the power of his magic at hand, and engages in an interestingly timed discussion.

"Za? That is fascinating, Nax did not know you intended to remain as a crew after this venture. Nax Tirrinu would have no interest in the captain's hat, but he would have great interest in being a captain's friend," his white, white teeth shining through the night as he seemed quite interested in the intrigue being started there, and being open in his interest to join it. As Rust collects himself, and examines his surroundings, something immediately goes through his mind. The whole ship is a trap.


Spending a Villain point to trap them further in their environment.

It was bait on a hook all along. The inside of the cog is... starkly bare. The outside merely a facade. There are no bulkheads, no crates or hidden chests. The wood is fresh, and isn't even treated with pitch against the water, already warping and rotting where it has been placed... And it must have been recently. Which only adds to the alarm. That not only was this a trap set, but that they had been expecting guests to the island. His senses are sharpened by the painful experience, and he sees where there are netted snares are placed against each break in the hull, designed to catch, and if the water were a bit higher, drown any who crossed by. There are literal hooks, barbed at the end, hanging from the ceiling, as if something to hang meat on.



But perhaps most alarming of all, and the last thing his eyes settle on before all havoc breaks loose, is an undulating, moving pale shape on the roof, about ten feet in the air. It squirms out of a place it burrowed into the rotted wood, like a tamilok encased in a Sintali junk, but it is much, much larger, like a dirt grub the size of a horse, with mandible and tentacles waving outstretched and glossy eyes as it makes to crawl in the direction of its prey, starved of its usual carrion and looking to make new meals.




Battle is joined.



Battle posted:

Initiative is Flood (Players) then Ebb (Dungeon Master). Rust and Dermid, it's your go.

Movement is difficult terrain until you get back on the deck of the ship or the rocks, and both "exits" have snare traps that require a Dexterity save at DC 12 to evade, or an action to disable (Wisdom check, thieves' tools check would apply but neither of you have the proficiency or tools.)

Carrion Crawler, AC 12, HP 48.

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 00:07

berenzen
Jan 23, 2012

Wings Out




"So what I'm saying is- Ah storms." Dermid swore as he turned around, face to face with the nasty critter. Looking up at the opening and then at Rust.

"Don't resist, or I'm gonna leave you with this thing. If you've never flown before, it might be downright uncomfortable, but you'll live."

"<Updrafting winds, generate lifting force>" Dermid switched back to Auran as Rust lifted twenty feet into the air, winds catching at Dermid's own feet as he lifted himself back onto the deck beside Nax.

"I recommend shooting it." He shouted at the man, now floating above him.

Levitating Rust up 20 feet. Then using tempestuous magic to fly back up to the pit's lip

berenzen fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 01:24

GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




Jan'ti runs her fingers over the scorch marks on the deck. Her finger tips gently dipping into every groove and break as she tries to piece together what must have happened to the ancient vessel. It is an impressive feat and one that she could not imagine product. It boggled the mind and left her with more questions than answers. It is then that the genasi catches a foul scent on the air. One she had smelled before, often enough to know the telltale signs of it's lingering stink, but one that by all rights should not be present here upon this ship. Her face contorts into a grim visage, scrunching in as if to implode upon the offending sensory organ for having the gall to function.

"Rotten stench." She mutters, "The dead among us." A hand moves to cover her nose and mouth, "<Dead men should know when to die.>"

The last statement is in Ornassi

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.






Lifting up the black metal of the hatch, it creaks open and lands with a plume of dust, and a groaning sound. A small shaft of light moves downward, revealing little to them until they hop down. Ranka enters, and is assailed with the scent of a crypt, of dust and bones and decay, though it has in time faded. Jan'ti follows soon after, as they stand there, looking around. It is nothing but still darkness, so soon the third follows in, as Urszula climbs down the ladder with the torch held up, and Quill waits to follow up above.

As the torchlight pours into the room, it reveals a macabre sight. Arranged on the floor, in piles, dozens of skulls are stacked and arranged with a cruel, even artful sense of design, certainly not discarded. Their bone has yellowed with time, and all are bereft of flesh, though on inspection they are marked by gnawing teeth here and there, and some are missing chipped pieces or jawbones. Most have the cranium itself cracked in some fashion.

And all of them are arranged pointed, almost accusingly, towards the center where they have descended. The place is otherwise almost spotless, as if it is well kept, other than the water that is up to your knees, with the skulls gazing up from you from the dark, rippling waters. On the right and left of the room are some barrels, four on each side and stacked on top of each other. Each has been broken into, as if through some animal's claws, but the detritus has been removed and cleaned. There are two doors to your flank, going into separate officer quarters, and two bunk cabins on your right and left, which are more thoroughly flooded, the doors closed.


What do you do?

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 01:46

DeathSandwich
Apr 24, 2008

I fucking hate puzzles.




As Rust's eyes adjust to the flickering firelight, he sees the twitching carapace in the shadow of the light. He says very quietly as he unslings his crossbow, "I think now is not a good time to be discussing this. Later..." He pulls the bow's string back and fits the bolt, ready to loose it when the feeling of the ground below him gives way. Not use to the feeling of floating, he makes and unexpected tumble midair, almost re-skewering himself on the spear trap before lifting out of the boat. Breathing heavy as he steadies himself in midair, Rust gets a grip on his crossbow again, pointing it back down the hole. "It's a setup, there's nothing down there but a bloody big bug. Watch out."

He points his crossbow down into the hole, waiting for the creature to follow him.

----------

Moving as far up above things as possible, reserving my attack action to take a shot at the critter if it follows us up.

DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 01:42

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.






Quickly, the three castaways make into action. Elevated by a windspout that carries up even some of the still waters below and the mists upon it, Rust raises up with his crossbow cocked and ready to let loose a bolt, overlooking the battle below, soon enough over thirty feet in the air over the deck. Dermid lands safely on the opposite ledge of the outside of the dummy-cog, crackling with energy as it begins to charge in his hands.

With the soft, sussurous sound of its many feet inching along in a wave like motion, and a chittering of its mandibles, the carrion crawler shows itself, stretching its long body and its tentacles that seem to unnaturally extend and wrap about Dermid's exposed ankles, hitting him with a paralytic venom like the sting of a manowar!


Dermid takes 5 points of poison damage, and must succeed on a DC 13 Constitution saving throw or be poisoned for 1 minute. Until this poison ends, Dermid is paralyzed. Dermid can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of his turns, ending the poison on itself on a success. The carrion crawler also marks Dermid.

This exposes it to the fire of Rust from above, while Nax, the Sintali, reveals his power once more with an ethereal glow of his irsies, manifesting two psychic blades that he lets loose with a spinning motion, cutting through the vile corpse-eater's flesh with psychokinetic force!

Rust's readied attack is activated. Nax hits both of his attacks, dealing a total of 13 damage.



Battle posted:

Initiative is Flood (Players) then Ebb (Dungeon Master). Rust, you fire off your prepared attack, and then it's your go again for you and Dermid.

Dermid, you are threatened by its 10 ft. reach of its tentacles, and are subject to an opportunity attack if you move away without Disengaging.

Carrion Crawler, AC 12, HP 35.

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 02:15

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





"Foul..." Ranka stands defensively as she waits for the light to descend, she' utterly repulsed by what she sees, but it's hard not to recognize the intelligence behind putting together a rather tasteful, if macabre, display. Staring at one of the skulls, she motions for Urszula to bring the light over "Need to take a closer look at these."

Moving from skull to skull, Ranka starts putting things together, her fingers running against cracks in the bone in some and mostly unmarred bone in others "Damage isn't uniform or even present in every skull, rules out a flayer." She takes another few moments and sighs "Gnawing looks more recent that the large trauma points on the skull too, likely done after the person was killed."

Looking upward, Ranka squints at the little bit of light seeping in "The displays mean we're likely dealing with something intelligent, the wounds aren't uniform but are present in most of the trophies here. I'm thinking we're dealing with an ambush predator, who at this point is most definitely expecting us."

Ranka's head is swaying, but there's a hint of fear and the optimism of having a good drink after clearing out this hell hole that cuts through things, so she nods and points to the nearest cracked open room "If we take this slow and careful, check each room to make sure whatever is here doesn't have any hidden pathways, then we should be okay."

Motioning toward the back of the ship, Ranka suggests "Let's clear out the officer cabins first and then move our way forwards? I don't want to give this thing a chance to get the drop on us."

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:

DM called for an Int check because I guessed at mindflayer undead. Rolled a nat 1->Lucky'd into an 11->hero pointed to a 17 Learned some stuff and successfully extrapolated at some more .

I figure we sweep and clear the officer quarters->bunks to make sure whatever is here can't sneak up on us from behind, and then we descend into the murder basement.

19(21 if Quill gives me a motivational pat with Guidance.) investigation to sort out if there's any hideyholes this thing could be using.

Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 02:50

DeathSandwich
Apr 24, 2008

I fucking hate puzzles.




Getting a better view of the crawler as it comes out from the ship, Rust gets his snapshot off, striking firmly in the beasts flank as it comes into view. Readjusting his positioning in the air and getting use to the levitation spell, Rust begins descending as fast as he can, firing off another pair of bolts at the monstrosity as he does so. The second bolt slams into one of the creatures tentacles, pinning it to the deck of the ship at Dermid's feet.

The creature screeches in agony and attempts to wrench itself free and turn itself toward it's assailant, managing to do so in time to catch one more bolt in its serrated maw, penetrating through the head of the beast and continuing into the murk below.

The creature writhes in agony momentarily before curling on the ground and laying still.

Rust touches down at the edge of the pit trap he fell into earlier, taking a peek over in Dermid's direction he says "You doing ok over there killer?"

----------
Three attacks, the prepared action from the previous turn, my regular attack, and action surging for another one.
A 12, a nat 20, and a 25 respectively
40 damage total, he ded

DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 02:56

GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




Jan'ti drops down behind Ranka, though she's visibly hesitant to exit the safety provided by the glow of Urszula's torch, and refuses to wander off into the darkness. She has spear and shield at the ready now watching the darkness for something lurking just beyond. She pays little mind to the horrid collection, though she certainly nods in agreement when Ranka suggests an intelligent predator.

"Good plan." And with that, Jan'ti steps towards the officer door on the left with the intention of opening it and checking inside.

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 (2/2)


Jan't will, well, get to it I suppose. Rolled a 1 on Perception.

GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 02:48

berenzen
Jan 23, 2012

Wings Out




Save v. Poison: 1d20+4 23
Concentration Check, DC 10: 1d20+4 9

Grunting in surprise as the tendrils of the beast lashed at his face, Dermid stumbled back feeling lightning coarse threw his veins as his body fought back against the poison trying to infest his system, losing concentration on the spell holding Rust aloft. Readying himself back up, he noticed several crossbow bolts launching from above as the pirate floated down.

Shaking his head clear, Dermid shook his foot, as if trying to shake the pain away, noticing the swelling already starting to rise on the ankle. Limping around the deck a few times, he tore off a section of his already ragged shirt to bind it crudely, just to try to keep the swelling down.

"Nasty bastard. Can't say I'd want to go into a brawling ring with that thing. But I should be fine. Let's just try to not fight any more of those things in the near future."

berenzen fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 03:20

Tricky Dick Nixon
Jul 26, 2010

The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise and murder men.




Combat ends.



The vile carcass of the carrion crawler grows still, though still occasionally twitching. Its blood is a black ichor that oozes out slowly, like tar. It looks nothing like a beast, not even the gargantuan insects of this island, but like a monstrosity from the vile reaches of nightmare, only masquerading as an animal. Yet it is dead, and there is little threat it can post now to the three survivors.

Nax cocks his head to the side, the ethereal energy dissipating as he considers. "I think Nax Tirrinu might vote for this man as captain," he says with a considered flattery to Rust, "as I've seen many murderers in my line of work, but none quite so to the point."


There is not much treasure or salvage to find here, but the traps can be repurposed into other tools. The line and hooks can be used to create two kits of fishing tackle, two fishing gaffs, two nets, and a snare trap. The carrion crawler can also be harvested for its poison, though you will want to find someone with Nature to do so for you.

The other scene might take a bit, so I would recommend you continue role-playing within the scene, since your conversation was so rudely interrupted. You can also make Investigation checks to find any clues as to what laid the trap for you in the first place.






While Quill comes down with Urszula, Ranka and Jan'ti clear each of the small cabins one by one. The doors are unlocked, and enter into finely appointed, if quite antiquated, officer cabins on each side. Neither room is flooded, save for an inch or two beneath your feet, and you track in the salt water as you walk in. Though little attention is spared for the decor, the manner of each room indicates a different station. Though this was before the time of great navies and the military maritime tradition, one was obviously the ship's master, full of ledgers in elvish script as well, as well as outdated maps that show nothing beyond the shadow of Praxis, once though to be the end of the horizon. Resting on top of the desk is a single skull, in very bad shape indeed, with it having been split in half, looking almost mockingly ajar from its position there.The other room is that of the knight-commander's, including an armor rack with rusted pieces of half-plate upon it that looks like its ready to fall apart if removed. There is no skull in this room. Each of the rooms has a locked chest in it at the foot at the bed.

There are no signs in either room of any creature laying in wait. Ranka examines the entirety, looking behind any creases or floorboards, behind the shattered barrels, anything that might indicate an ambush. Eventually she ends at the flooded corridor, and looking through where the shafts of torchlight land, she finds that at the very end is a dark passageway, a tunnel leading into the earthen sand. Suddenly, everything is coming together, at least in part. Occasionally an air bubble rises from that water, releasing a corpse-like stench with a soft pop. This is the work of a lacedon, a sea-ghoul. Desperate and wicked men who consume the flesh of the dead and become monsters for it, or so the legend goes. They prefer to hide from the light whenever possible, whether undersea or underground, and have great claws.

But that doesn't explain a few other things: Lacedon are opportunistic predators, and a single one would not be able to kill an entire crew of crusader elves. Is it a pack? If so, they are in mortal danger... but a pack would tear itself apart without anything to feed on. More likely, it fed on the dead that already were here, perhaps one of a few survivors of the actual attack. But undead such as these are bestial, not motivated by anything like compassion or reverence. Why is it honoring the dead? That thought hangs in the air. With the two cabins mostly flooded, at lowest about chest height in water, Jan'ti takes the point in investigating. When she dips under water, she moves to open one of the doors, on the left.



Underwater, and with the portal open, she can hear it, though distorted and deepened. A slow, methodical scraping sound, back and forth. It is the sound of the bristles of a stiff brush against the wood of the hull. Standing before her, dimly lit in the cabin, is a humanoid figure, but the light passes through its form against the wall here and there, casting a skeletal shadow. There is no flesh on it, having been rotted or gnawed off, though it still wears remnants of a chain cuirass, and holds behind it a broken broadsword, the other hand holding a brush as it pushes back and forth against it, stopping at the stare. Its head swivels, turning and looking back, and in the empty sockets, two dull red points glow.

Behind you, you hear even in the water the door being pulled open. From deeper in the depths, beyond the tunnels, there is a deep howl.


Battle is joined.



Battle posted:

Initiative is Flood (Players) then Ebb (Dungeon Master). Quill, Urszula, Ranka and Jan'ti, your actions are first.

The blue "waves" separate what is not flooded, partially flooded, and fully flooded. Partial flooding is difficult terrain, fully flooded is essentially underwater.

The green arrow indicates the entrance into the ghoul's warren.

Skeleton A, AC 13, HP 13. Resists piercing, vulnerable to bludgeoning. Underwater.
Skeleton B, AC 13, HP 13. Resists piercing, vulnerable to bludgeoning. Underwater.

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





"Oof... that's, uh that's not great." It was surely good that the critter beneath them wasn't going to be sneaking up on them any time soon, but it was still mostly an unknown and likely terrible danger. Ranka's teachings had never been aimed explicitly in the methods of destroying things like that, so she'd have to rely on the more worldly opinions of her present companions.

It's tempting to just leave, but the undead beast lurking in this boat could easily make its way down to the beach, if it had a mind to, and murder them in their sleep. It was likely a hungry beast, and more importantly it was standing between her and a sea temperature incredibly old drink. It had to die.

Ranka's party planning is put on hold by the appearance of a pair of skeletons begin shuffling through the waterlogged portion of the boat behind Jan'ti, not the most formidable of foes, but a good warm up. Slightly overconfident, Ranka tries to slam her quarterstaff into the nearest skeleton, but between her less than optimal footing, attacking through the water, and unfamiliarity with fighting the undead, she simply gets it lodged, jammed in the rib cage and subsequently lodged against the door frame as the skeleton turns to face her.

Not one to be discouraged, Ranka hops to the right and closes in on the opposing bunk's occupant, she has to partially dive into the water to get at her foe, but a few quick underwater strikes result in a muffled crack, the undead's leg broken off at the knee. The creature tries to take a step forward in response to Ranka's assault, but finds itself stumbling through the water without proper support beneath it. Ranka allows it to clumsily fall past her, taking a solid grip on its lower ribs, and pushes with all her might, aiming the creature toward where her quarterstaff still jutted out into the hall. The extra heft the lanky skeleton offers isn't much, but physics isn't a kind customer and the force applied is more than enough to break the first skeleton's spine cleanly in half while shattering the second.

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:

Ranka makes a quarterstaff attack against the skeleton adjacent to her: 16 vs AC for 13 26 bludgeoning damage after vulnerabilities.

Ranka moves adjacent to the other skeleton.

Bonus action martial arts attacks vs the other skeleton: 18 vs AC for 8 16 bludgeoning damage after vulnerabilities.

If I had disadvantage for attacking underwater foes in any way I still hit with both attacks. 16 & 14 being the lower results, though I believe we ruled fighting unarmed underwater doesn't give disadvantage, so still fine .

Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at May 23, 2018 around 07:52

DeathSandwich
Apr 24, 2008

I fucking hate puzzles.




Rust slides down the deck of the boat, back into the water and circles around to get up to Nax and Dermid. "Being the better captain isn't about who's the best butcher - Though I will say that I'm really quite proud of what I just did." Rust reaches down and pulls the bolt at Dermid's feet loose, a still twitching hunk of tentacle flesh is still impaled on it that Rust flicks back out in the bay. He spits on the corpse below him before continuing. "The best captain is someone who captures the heart of their people. Much as I am loathe to admit it. I am not the moral core of our motley crew. Were we not stranded and working together by necessity, half of the people here would just as easily want to watch me swinging from the gallows. Hell, judging by the way Lucielle looks at me, she'd be the one to throw the lever herself. We're not dealing with a bunch of salty dogs looking for pillaging and plunder, the Freewind name is going to hurt me with this group more than it helps. The only people who'd be willing to follow my style of captaining would be you two and maybe old Aqualung depending on what his taste for the life is like at his age."

Rust looks down at himself to see a chunk of the broken oars he fell on still sticking out of the meat on his thigh. Grabbing hold of it, he gives it a twist and a pull, gritting his teeth and grunting as it pulls loose from his flesh. It looked a lot worse than its severity, and the bleeding was not life threatening. He closes his eyes and focuses, "Ugh, I'm fine. It's useful pain. A reminder to myself."

Turning around, Rust gets a feel for his surroundings in the flickering firelight, keeping an eye on any more traps. "We're not done here yet though, let's see if there's anything left in the captain's quarters and then we'll bounce back to camp. Dismantling the traps and taking the supplies will be useful if nothing else."

----------

Investigation Check = 12
Going to go ahead and also use my second wind, healing myself back to full.
Since we rounded up for bolt recovery last time we can round down this time. I'm going to assume the other two bolts I shot are lost in the mass of flesh of the worm and buried in the sand of the bay respectively and probably not recoverable in the time frame we have to scavenge. I should be at 7 bolts left now.

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GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




Bones make such a disgusting ruckus. Like a thousand dishes crashing to the floor scattering across the wood. The sound causes Jan'ti to fall back on the heel she had set firmly behind and raise her shield in a sudden motion. She looks around only to find the immediate danger having been dispelled by Ranka long before the genasi had even really been aware of it. Jan'ti's fingers clutch tightly around the seaweed mantle on her neck, shield raised to put something between whatever was growling in that hole and herself, spear half resting against her forearm in a precarious balance.

Jan'ti positions herself in front of the hole, readies a spell (Frostbite), and waits for the creature to emerge

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