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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 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.

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.

Lacedon, AC 13, HP 29/36. Stench 5'. Underwater. Marking Jan'ti.
Skeleton C, AC 15 (partial cover), HP 9/13. Resists piercing, vulnerable to bludgeoning.
Skeleton D, AC 15 (partial cover), HP 13/13. Resists piercing, vulnerable to bludgeoning.

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at May 24, 2018 around 12:17

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GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




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 May 24, 2018 around 21:26

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





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.

Save: Con 10 on the dot, so Ranka is fine.

Action: Attack
Flanking Quarterstaff attack vs Lacedon: 26 to hit for 13 bludgeoning damage.

Bonus Action: Flanking Martial Arts vs Lacedon: 14 to hit for 6 bludgeoning damage.

Lacedon is down barring shenanigans, so Ranka spends all her movement going through difficult terrain to climb the ladder partially and enters melee range with the skeletons. They still have the high ground, but I can OA one with my reaction if it moves away to attack and they're at disadvantage to make bow attacks while adjacent to me.

DeathSandwich
Apr 24, 2008

I fucking hate puzzles.




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 May 24, 2018 around 17:44

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun





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 May 25, 2018 around 07:48

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.




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.

Squeezed on one of the over-large clawed fingers of the lacedon is an iron band, a signet ring that likely signifies an elvish noble lineage, descended from one of King Balor's followers.

The chest found in the ship master's quarters contains the following:
- the ship master's ledger, written in Sarnathqar
- ancient navigator's tools
- a yellow tunic with ornate embroidery around the neck, in a very antiquated style
- a potion in a jeweled case with what looks like golden hands cupping the mouth
- a single amethyst (100 gp)

The chest found in the knight commander's quarters contains the following:
- the knight commander's journal, written in Sarnathqar
- wrapped in a red silk square is a shortsword of dark starmetal, forged of meteoric iron, inlaid with silver and gold on the hilt in the design of what looks like a weeping mermaid being impaled from below and out her mouth by the blade.
- a black crusader's cape, with the white morning star symbol of the Knight of Summer
- between pieces of folded wood, an old map on parchment, with notations on it in Sarnathqar script, that appears to be of the island you are on, along with a path that indicates two points with red X's along a path leading deeper inland... a treasure map! There are two evocative names on it, in a different hand and ink than the Sarnathqar notations: The Lost City of Sinjh, resting on a deepwater harbor inland, and at the base of the mountains near the volcanic crater: The Temple of the Monkey King. (History check at DC 20 might reveal more.)

In the storage deck of the other half of the galley, you find the following.
- A pewter coffer (itself worth 25 GP) filled with 200 livre (200 GP).
- A partly emptied barrique of Annwn gold cider, finely aged over centuries. This is a priceless treasure, though there is "only" twelve gallons of it remaining.
- Long, intact galley oars
- Four small launches in various states of repair, each enough to hold 4 people in them, with a pair of oars each. Two of them are rotted, one is in good condition and the other just needs patched up.

Salvaging the sails or wood would take more time, but either could solve the needs for building a raft. However, there's a foreboding feeling that if you return, the dead might not remain restful.

Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at May 25, 2018 around 01:39

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





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
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.


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.

Requesting a zap of guidance off of Quill for this.

Perception result to loot the depths was 23 (27 if Quill offers up guidance).

Aside from a share of the money/booze, Ranka isn't particularly interested in anything at a glance. I suppose that could change depending on whether anything is like suspiciouslly good for me, but for the most part I'll be passing on taking magic stuff for the first while.

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.




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?

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





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

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun





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 May 25, 2018 around 19:43

GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




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 May 25, 2018 around 18:28

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun





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

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 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.

The skill challenge is to escape the wreck of the elvish galleas with the treasure intact. Your target number of successful checks is 3, and the base Difficult Class is going to be 12. Since you are in the dark, any Perception checks will be at Disadvantage. If you succeed, you manage to take with you all of the treasure before the wreck is swallowed by the Nine Hells. If you fail, you lose one of the following for every success you are short of the goal: The ship master's chest, the knight commander's chest, the ghoul's ring and skeleton bows, the pewter coffer, the oars and launches. Feel free to roll in any sequence you like, or coordinate on Discord!

GenuineRevelry
Aug 12, 2010

Decor Aficionado




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 May 25, 2018 around 22:44

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





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.

I'm gone for a few hours, so feel free to use Ranka in your narrative if you have something in mind.

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TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun





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 May 26, 2018 around 00:18

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