# JollyDoc's Serpent's Skull-updated 11/6/2011



## JollyDoc (Jul 5, 2011)

Nothing like plunging right into the next of our group's daring exploits. Rest assured, the events of Kingmaker will continue to resonate in our version of Golarion, but let us now travel south, towards the distant shores of Sargava. But first, let me begin by introducing you to the players in our little drama. Just a group of strangers, united only by fate, happenstance and the misfortune to have taken the wrong ship at exactly the wrong time...enjoy!


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## JollyDoc (Jul 5, 2011)

*Arioch*

RUNNING SCARED


Lord-Hunter Thixon, Hellknight of the Order of the Gate, strode into the Great Hall of Citadel Enferac.  Seated before him was Vicarius Giordano Torchia, General of the Order, and his high council.  Various other members of the Order were seated around the room, but none of these were worthy of Thixon’s attention, let alone respect.

The Hellknight bowed before Giordano, declaring, “I came as soon as I received your message.  What is thy bidding, my master?”

Giordano steepled his fingers, softly drumming them together.  “Based on information obtained from our Infernal contacts, we have learned that the former Hellcaller Deneth has fled to the Shackles Isles.  Using powers learned here amongst his brothers of the Order of the Gate, Deneth is using dark powers to wreak havoc there.  If the other Hellknight Orders catch wind that one of our own is freely committing such crimes it will reflect badly on Citadel Enferac and the Order of the Gate.  At best, this would diminish our reputation and prestige.  At worst the other Orders, already suspicious of our Infernal contacts and ties, may institute a pogrom against us. The Apostate must be dealt with, and it must be done quickly.  Are you the man for the job?”

Thixon pursed his lips, nodding slowly.  “Of course my lord.  I will begin the hunt immediately.  Do you want me to return him here to the Citadel?”

The Vicarius looked from one side of the council to the other.  Clearing his throat, he responded, “The Council and I agree that Deneth should be eliminated where he is found.  He is too dangerous, and too likely to find a way to escape once captured.  His head should be sufficient proof of death.”

The knight grinned darkly, showing his teeth.  “Excellent my lord.  Now if you will excuse me…”

Giordano raised his hand, interrupting Thixon.  “We have also decided that we would like for you to have companion on your journey.  Arioch, present yourself.”

From the throng witnessing the meeting, a lone half-orc stepped forward, dressed in the uniform of one of the Hellcaller acolytes.  The half-orc bowed before Giordano and the Council, then turned and offered the same to Thixon.  “I would be honored to assist in handling the Apostate Deneth.”

“My Lord!” Thixon spat.  “You know I don’t need help in this, let along from one of Deneth’s Hellcaller apprentices.  This…” Thixon cut Arioch with his narrowed gaze, “boy has no business on this mission and will only serve to hinder its success.”

Giordano waved his hands, dismissing Thixon’s protestations.  “Lord Knight, you are among the most trusted of our Hellknights, and you are more than capable in handling Deneth.  However, Arioch has completed his Hellcaller training and his proficiency as a summoner is formidable.  His knowledge of planar creatures and Deneth himself will be of use to you.  You will take him with you.”

Thixon grunted, but bowed.  “My lord.”  He turned an about-face, and began to head out of the chamber.  Arioch shuffled quickly after him.

As the pair passed the chamber doors, Thixon cut a quick glance at the young half-orc.  “I swear, boy, if you slow me down I will gut you myself and find someone to blame it on.”

Arioch gulped, but nodded.
______________________________________________________________

The Hamatula, known to mortals as a barbed devil, grabbed both of Thixon’s arms, and pulled both limbs towards him with its massive otherworldly strength.  With a quick kick to Thixon’s chest, the fiend ripped both of the man’s arms out of their sockets and sent what was left of the Hellknight’s body flying through the air.  Thixon gurgled, his eyes open wide in shock, and then fell silent.

As Arioch watched Thixon die, the summoner was overcome simultaneously with fear and the realization of failure.  The two Hellknights had spent the last month-and-a-half scouring The Shackles looking for signs of Deneth.  The trail had finally led to an abandoned warehouse in Port Peril, where Thixon and Arioch believed that they had the summoner cornered, but in reality they had walked right into his trap.  Now, there was a powerful devil between Deneth and his former apprentice.

Deneth chuckled, and raised a hand to stay the barbed devil from slaying the young half-orc.  “Arioch, my old friend.  My, it is so good to see you.  I would offer you the chance to free yourself from the manacles of the Hellknight codes and continue your tutelage under me, but I know that you wouldn’t do that…plus I would always fear that one day you would betray me.  So, instead I will offer you a choice:  Flee now, and I will give you a minute’s head start before my friend here starts to hunt you, or die where you stand.”  Deneth’s eyes flicked over to the devil, still holding Thixon’s bloody stumps in its claws.

Arioch reviewed his options within a split second.  While he, to, was able to summon creatures from the Outer Planes, the only beasts that would answer his call were so small and weak that they would be no more than gnats to Deneth and the fiends that he had at his disposal.  The half-orc knew that he would die within seconds should he choose to initiate combat.  The other option would be to run for his life.  While this might keep him alive for a longer period of time, he would be seen by the Order as either a traitor, a deserter, a coward, or some combination of the three.  The Council would always ask why Thixon died and he survived, and regardless of the answer, the questions would be enough for the Order to torture him, followed by hanging.  
The latter choice at least offered a small chance of survival, and Arioch took it.  He turned, and ran as fast as his feet could carry him.  As he made his way into the city streets he remembered the boat that he and Thixon had purchased passage on from the coastal town of Quent to Port Peril.  He had been told that they were going to be staying in port only long enough to resupply, and then they would leave tonight for the Mwangi Expanse and later the capitol city of Sargava.  This might give him a chance to get off of the island before Deneth and his underlings found him and made sport of tearing him limb from limb.

Arioch turned towards the city harbor, hoping that the Jenivere had not yet left port.
___________________________________________________________

His heart still racing from the night’s events, Arioch crept into his cabin aboard the merchant vessel, and closed the door behind him.  He sat down on his cot and rubbed his hands across his shaved pate.  After a few seconds, the half-orc sat up straight and began concentrating, using his summoner’s training.  Arioch extended his thoughts through the barriers between planes, searching for one individual consciousness.  Minion, I call you to my side.

The response came back.  And I will answer the call.

A small mote of light appeared in the room, and grew until it took up a space of about three feet.  Stepping out of the disc of light was what appeared to be a small reptilian humanoid creature, similar to a kobold but wearing robes similar to Arioch’s.  The eidolon looked to his master and bowed.  The extraplanar being spoke to the summoner telepathically, “What can I do for you, master?”

Arioch shook his head.  “I really don’t need you to do anything tonight, Minion.  I just need someone to talk to.  I’m…well, we’re in a real jam here.  Thixon is dead, and Deneth is still alive.  We’re fleeing The Shackles on board a merchant ship headed south, and the Council is certain to label me a traitor or coward.  Either way, they’re going to want me dead.”

The eidolon shrugged.  “Perhaps, or perhaps they are going to assume that you are already dead.  When they use their magic to find out what happened, do you think they are going to ask about you, or do you think that they are going to ask about Thixon?  If they learn that he is dead, they are most likely going to assume that you are too.”

Arioch blinked.  “But what happens when I return to the Citadel?”

Minion shrugged again.  “Well…I thought that was simple.  Don’t go back.  It’s not like you were that popular with them, being a half-orc bastard and all.”

The summoner sat back on the cot.  This wasn’t something he had previously considered.  They were heading away from Cheliax and the Citadel.  The Order would have little reason to chase him all the way to Sargava.  Perhaps he could start anew there, continuing his studies and further developing his magic.  One day, after his powers had matured, he might could even challenge Deneth more fully, and then return to the Order as a conquering hero.  All questions of his loyalty would be answered when he handed the Apostate’s head to the Council.

Arioch nodded at Minion.  “To Sargava, then.”


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## Joachim (Jul 5, 2011)

Here is a .pdf of Arioch's character sheet, at 2nd level (we made it to 3rd as of last night).

Couple of notes on feats....JD lets us take a bonus feat at 1st if we participate in the Crit/Fumble decks (which Paizo has recently released as iPhone apps I might add), and we also use the Hero Points system from the APG.  Arioch is using the Antihero option, which gives an additional bonus feat at first level.


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## JollyDoc (Jul 6, 2011)

*Agnar*

"Vahr, I have need of your slave" Agnar said to the alchemist. As the half-orc held out payment, Vahr looked like he might want to spit in his hand, but was wise enough not to cross his favorite customer’s "boy". Agnar knew that the old man saw him as nothing more than an errand runner for the pirate’s shore-based operations.
“Zavasta!” Vahr called over his shoulder.
 A surly looking fellow ducked out from behind a curtain to the shop’s back room.  The two half-orcs nodded to one another, and were then on their way. As they lost sight of Vahr’s shop, Zavasta’s mood brightened, and he looked at Agnar with a toothy boyish smile.
 "What do I get to burn today?" he asked.
 “I received word from the Captain that some cargo he purchased was not what it was supposed to be,” the priest replied. “Since he is out to sea, it falls to us to take care of it before they skip town."
 As they walked into a dark alley, two heavily cloaked figures stepped out of the shadows. One held out a bag that contained Zavasta's special gear. The young alchemist went to work making his concoctions, while Agnar began giving instructions to the two cloaked figures that Zavasta knew to be nothing more than animated corpses. As he spoke, the priest’s thoughts went back to the day when he’d first learned of his “unique” talents…
_______________________________________________________________

The ruins were quiet, no sound not even the drip of water or a rat as the group of Pathfinders read the runes and random writings on the wall. A scrawny looking half-orc stood by holding a torch, a job he did unhappily, but what else could a half-orc from the shingles do? Adventurers often went into the ruins and dungeons located around the area, but what did you do for light? Agnar had made his living since his early years by following such groups and bearing their lanterns and torches. That is what now brought him to this dank ruin of a temple. The Pathfinders had been looking for something for the past week, and by their excited talk at night, they believed they were close. As Ryze, their scout, ran his hand along a wall, he touched something and the room began to rumble. 
Brutas, the group’s big swordsman, began screaming, "Light! Light, you worthless accident of misplaced lust!" 
Since Agnar could see naturally in darkness, he dashed for the lanterns. Moments later, he bathed the room in a warm glow, and saw the Pathfinders dusting themselves off and assessing their situation. The chamber they’d been in had fallen into an under level of the ruins, and now they were trapped. 
"Let’s start looking for a way back up,” Ryze said. “I remember a funny crack we passed yesterday. I didn’t think much of it but, I’m assuming it might have been another way down here." Weapons out, they proceeded through the underground complex room-by-room searching, examining, and grabbing things of interest. Agnar wished they could just leave. Eventually, they came upon a set of double doors, and after Ryze deemed them safe, they opened them. The moment they did so, undead spilled from the chamber beyond. The Pathfinders fought and managed to take down the most horrid looking zombie Agnar had ever seen. Taric, the group’s Venture Captain, thought the beast might be the leader of the walking corpses, but its death seemed to enrage them even more, and another tide spilled from the room. The group withdrew, taking down zombies and skeletons as they went. The undead were relentless, following the group’s retreat. Brutas was the first to go down, and then Taric sacrificed himself, taking a half-dozen or more of the zombies with him. Ryze then accidentally tripped a trap while searching for an escape route. Agnar thought it due justice for getting them into this mess in the first place. Agnar and the wizard Scythus continued running blindly down the corridors. Turning a corner, they paused to catch their breath.
 "They are following the light," Agnar whispered as he doused it.
Then, without thinking twice, he smashed the lantern into the wizard’s knee and ran, leaving him to the undead.  Agnar ducked into a room, but he saw that the undead still followed. Determined to face death head-on, he waited in the center of the room, which was filled with books and scrolls.
 "It ends here," he said, but then something washed over him.  
The skeletons shambling towards the door halted, watching him. Agnar rushed to the door and slammed it, locking it. With no answers to his good fortune, he did what he had seen adventurers do: he began looking around the room for answers. There he discovered the Truth of Charon. The  spot he had been standing on bore the daemon lord's symbol. Emerging from the room a day later, he found the remaining undead subservient to his will. Performing a ritual that he’d learned from the vile books, he ripped the skeleton from the body of one of the Pathfinders. His new minion in tow, he found his way out of the complex eventually, and set out upon his new path, a simple torch bearer no more.
_____________________________________________________________

Agnar channeled dark energy, snuffing the life from the last two smugglers. Zavasta had already set several more on fire with the incendiary bombs he’d cooked up. Stripping one of the bodies of its cloak and boots, they left the warehouse.  Agnar released control of his undead minions, dressing them in the discarded clothing. It would make the city guards look good to slay them, and as long as the authorities had scapegoats, the likelihood of a serious investigation into the deaths of the smugglers would be greatly reduced. Much cheaper than a bribe, and corpses were plentiful.
 Upon arriving at Vahr’s door, Agnar turned to Zavasta.
 "This was my last mission working for Captain Selek,” the priest said. “I will be leaving on the Jenivere tomorrow. I gave your name to the captain should you want a new job. He’ll purchase you, and then you can take over. It’s not too difficult, keeping track of crew members on shore leave, taking bribes to certain officials, keeping records of on land assets, and of course, the occasional killing. I’m stagnating here. Maybe adventure and power await me in Sargava."
 With that he knocked on Vahr’s door, and told Vahr that the Captain might be by to see him personally next time. He took his leave, nodding once more to Zavasta. Tomorrow the ship would be pulling out. Agnar needed to see that his new minion was properly equipped.


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## JollyDoc (Jul 7, 2011)

As Zavasta looked down at the alchemist's body, he knew that no one else would ever suffer the abuse he had at his former master’s hands, seeing as how the old man had no hands any more. Zavasta had finally reached his breaking point, and had taken his revenge for all the years of torture and humiliation. Now all he had to do was to figure out how to get out of here before someone found Vahr’s body. The alchemist had never been well liked, but he did supply a valuable service to the local pirates, and some would want Zavasta dead, or worse, make him take over the shop, which would be akin to being eternally damned. He thought back to the only good thing he could say Vahr ever did, which was outbidding that group of devil-worshiping Hellknights at the slave auction who had wanted to use him as a living sacrifice.  At least Vahr hadn’t killed him. 

Zavasta knew the Jenivere was supposed to leave port this evening and he had to be on it. He would disappear and find a new home, somewhere he would be free to use his potions the way he wanted and not how some old bastard said he should. He grabbed a few different reagents and started mixing Hell in a bottle.  Why bother hiding Vahr’s body when he could make it disappear  altogether? Who cared if the building burned down at the same time? He began humming to himself as the mixed the different components together.

Sometime later, as the Jenivere weighted anchor, he smiled to himself as a loud explosion erupted from the street where Vahr’s shop had been. Now what was that the captain had said about a Hellknight being on board?


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## JollyDoc (Jul 8, 2011)

*Lyrissa*

Lyrissa Skylark was alive.  She stood along the starboard rail of the weather deck, feeling the easy rolling of the waves beneath her, and the warm sea breeze in her hair.  The sun sank slowly into the sea, and the red glow of Akiton was already visible in the southern sky.  She had left Port Peril far behind, and her new life lay open before her, as wide as the sea she sailed upon.  
Two days ago, however, had not been a good day at all, and it all started when her mother died.

Lyrissa was the rarest of creatures – the product of a loving union between a beautiful half-orc courtesan, and a rakish and talented half-elven bard.  Her heritage was difficult to judge at first glance, and her exotic beauty drew more than glances.  She was tall and broad-shouldered, but athletically proportioned, and blessed with a dancer’s grace.
Lyria, her mother, was also a rare beauty for a half-orc, and she had been the subject of record bidding among the higher-end pleasure houses in Port Peril.  Her father, the well-known troubadour Finnegan Skylark, met Lyria after performing at the Dragon Turtle Tavern, and the two were instantly smitten with one another.  Still, after a time, Finnegan resumed his adventuring, and Lyria likewise resumed her career.  Little Lyrissa was raised among the other children in the pleasure den, but her father would always send her tokens from his travels: once a wyvern scale, another time a colorful Varisian doll.  He wrote her letters from time to time, and occasionally he would visit when his adventures brought him around the Shackles.
The gifts were a relief to her, and she read and reread the letters as an escape from her twisted reality.  For Lyrissa, at twelve, was already working in the pleasure house.  She had been trained in the arts of dancing, seduction, and more.  She didn’t like the way it made her feel, but there was no way out.  It was all she had ever known.  She loved her mother, but hated what she made her do.  It was enough to drive a hurt and confused girl to the brink.  Her father’s letters were all that kept her from falling apart.

When Lyrissa was fifteen, her father made one of his rare appearances, but the visit did not go well.  The girl heard her parents arguing, so she did what any curious teenager would do – she listened through the door.  Her father had heard about what was going on, and he became enraged.  Her mother screamed at him that he didn’t understand, he was never there, and besides, his crazy life was no better than hers.  In moments, security stormed up the stairs, shoved Lyrissa out of the way, and kicked in the door.  Finnegan drew his blade on the bouncers, and it hummed with magical energy. He began to sing, and the magic-infused melody awakened something inside Lyrissa.  She felt the power in the music, and it surged within her.  
Without a thought, she grabbed the nearest weapon at hand, an ornate bronze statue, and came from behind the nearest enforcer.  He never knew what hit him, and went down with his skull bashed-in.  Her father skewered another guard, and then turned to see Lyrissa standing with the bloody statue in her hand.  
“Let’s get out of here.” was all he said.
Lyrissa nodded numbly and dropped the statue with a heavy thud.
“Well then, you ready to run like the Hells?”
Her father reached for her hand, and as they turned to run, she looked back to see the tear-streaked face of her mother, standing among the carnage in her room.  Then Lyrissa ran for her life.

Finnegan made good their escape, and the two left Port Peril to travel Golarion together.  He taught her the ways of the song and the spell, and an adventuring friend taught her the ways of the sword.  Unfortunately, she did not have long to learn.  Almost a year to the day after they fled the Shackles, she found her father dead in his bed.  There wasn’t a single mark on the body.  It had to be poison.  Or magic.  All of his possessions were gone.  All their gold, everything.
All of the hurt, all of the anguish came back.  Lyrissa was penniless, alone, and utterly without hope.  She turned back to what she knew in order to survive.  In order to separate her self from how she made her gold, she stuffed all her fear, her shame, and her self-loathing into a separate personality she called “Lisa”.  Lisa was good at what she did.  So good that it didn’t take long to amass enough money to buy passage on a ship bound for the Shackles.  And while Lisa didn’t care, Lyrissa wanted to cling to something familiar, the only thing she had left – her mother. 
When her ship, the Jenivere arrived in Port Peril, Captain Kovack mentioned that they would be in port for three days.  Not that it mattered, she was home now.

She dared not return to the pleasure house after what had happened the year before, but she hired an errand boy to take a message to her mother.  When he returned, he said that one of the other ladies told him that Lyria hadn’t worked there for months.
It didn’t take much investigation to find out what had happened.  After Finnegan’s bloody escape, Lyria was thrown out of the pleasure house.  She tried keep up her clientele, but her reputation was ruined, and she was older now.  It wasn’t long before she fell into despair, and started drinking heavily.  She then turned to Snake Weed, and finally succumbed to the highly-addictive Abyss Dust.  Now she lived in a ramshackle tenement near the docks, turning tricks in order to pay the rent and feed her habit.
Lyrissa and “Lisa” could relate.  She set out to find her mother.  When she arrived, a street boy told her that the “half-orc lady” had left a little earlier and was headed toward the warehouses down by the docks.  Lyrissa followed along.  She knew where her mother was going - Vahr’s.  Vahr was a small time alchemist and drug dealer who sold mostly to the most desperate souls – pirates, prostitutes, and the like.  
As she turned onto the street, Lyrissa saw her mother.  Lyria was dressed in a ragged cloak, and she made straight for the unmarked warehouse that housed Vahr’s shop.  Lyrissa watched as her mother crossed the cobbled street towards the shop.  Suddenly, the building erupted in a titanic explosion.  A blast of fire, wood, and stone burst out into the street.  Lyrissa’s mother was literally blown to pieces as she watched.
Lyrissa stood dumbstruck.  Her mother was gone.  Her father was gone.  She was truly alone.  Her ears were still ringing, and her legs were about to give out when she heard a yell from the other side of the street.  
A young man was running as fast as he could out of another warehouse.  She caught a quick glimpse of his face as he flew by.  “Gods, run woman!  Run for your very soul!”
Lyrissa looked past him to see what he was running from.  That’s when she saw the alien gait of the barbed devil walking from the doorway of the warehouse.  It was watching the running man, and then its gaze locked on her.  She froze in fear, and the devil strode purposefully towards her, picking its way through the rubble in the street.
Just then a second explosion rocked the alchemist’s shop.   A cloud of noxious green smoke billowed out with the blast, knocking the devil sideways, and completely obscuring the entire street.  
Lyrissa turned and ran as fast as she could.  She ran for the most crowded streets and quickly lost herself among the throngs by the docks.
There was nowhere else to go.  She was without family, friends, or a home.  So she made her way back to the Jenivere.  
Captain Kovack was at the gangplank.  “I thought you were staying here?”
“No.”
He stared at her blank face.  “You okay?”  
“No.”
“Well then… um, you can keep your cabin.  We’re headed for Bloodcove at first light.”
Lyrissa didn’t even answer.  She didn’t care.  “Lisa” thought Bloodcove sounded lovely.


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## JollyDoc (Jul 9, 2011)

*Gorak*

Gorak was a simple half-orc. He liked the smell of the sea in the morning, the sight of the sky when the sun went down and the glow of the water when the moon came up at night. He was not what you would call bright, but he was strong. He came from a long line of strong orc blood. His grandfather Torak had been a mighty warrior, strong of heart and noble in spirit. He led a small tribe of orcs in the stolen lands. They kept to themselves, and lived by the motto of life: kill or be killed. They defended themselves, they hunted, and they did not kill for pleasure, yet they showed no mercy. Korak, son of Torak, was also a hero of the people. He began trade with the local towns, hired merchants, and traded pelts and services for gold, weapons and armor. 

The small community was prospering despite the open warfare that raged throughout the Stolen Lands, and Gorak had completed his rites of passage. He was fierce in combat and could show phenomenal strength and skill by entering the Blood Rage. It was a sweltering day when his world ended, and the tribe’s shaman was on edge. He had been muttering to himself for days, “The Bones. The Bones!”
 The tribe had been dutiful with their blood sacrifices according through the years, and the last thirty seasons they had blessed with peace and prosperity. This year was different. The shaman read the bones of the virgin sacrifice as completeness with no more use for life. 

That day, two strangers entered the village along with twenty heavily armed troops. One of their number, a half-orc of all things, walked forward and cast his icy gaze at the village tribesmen who were gathering their weapons at the sudden appearance of the invaders. 
"They are all evil, Velox,” he pronounced, “even the women and children. I say kill them all. They’re beyond redemption.”
 The leader nodded his agreement and stepped forward. His eyes glazed over and he began speaking in an unknown but beautiful-sounding tongue. Then the killing began.

Gorak awoke hours later. He had fallen early in the battle, and one of the other hunters had apparently pulled him to safety, bandaged his wounds and lashed him onto a horse. It took him many days to gather enough strength to walk. He returned his village, only to find everyone gone, or slaughtered. A massive funeral pyre still burned. He followed the tracks of the soldiers to a local fort, where he learned that their leaders were an inquisitor and an oracle, the rulers of the area. Gorak vowed his revenge but he knew he was too weak and inexperienced to succeed in anything but dying again. He decided to head south and bide his time. His travels ultimately led him to the Shackles, a place far enough away to avoid the killers of his people.


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## JollyDoc (Jul 10, 2011)

*Nessalin*

The Queen hovered a foot above the lush grass as she spoke to Kiro within the castle’s gardens. The pair walked among giant, weeping willows which were surrounded by a rainbow of flowers and roses. They drifted among other rare plants such as heartwoods, wierwoods, black lotus, and patches of vivid nightshade. For the last thirteen years, General Kiro and the Queen had skillfully lead the forces of Kardashia against the rebels. 
“The kobolds were once again pushed back from their advance on Fort Drelev, my Grace. However, Avashar commands the zombies and advances in the south,” said General Kiro. 
“At least there is one witch in Kardashia I can still trust,” replied Mox.

The pair strolled along the gardens and through a section built after the Great Betrayal, as it was known throughout Kardashia. Here statues of each of the rebel leaders depicted them at their “greatest” moments of glory. Tungdill’s statue was of the dwarf, mortally wounded, hanging limp within the beak of an owlbear. The next statue was of the half-orc, Davrim, tears streaming down his face as he cradled the corpse of Velox. Finally, there was Duke Stevhan of Pitax, sitting upon his throne. His massive belly had grown fat through years of sloth. He looked bored and rested his jaw in the palm of his hand. An inscription on his crown read: Duke Stevhan the Craven. A reminder to the people that the Duke of Pitax continued to do nothing as civil war raged across the country. The name had become quite popular throughout the city of Veritas.

Mox paused and turned to face the general. 
“Kiro, it’s time that we made a move to finally bring this uprising to an end,” she said. 
“How so, my Grace?” asked the monk.
 “Tomorrow, Nessalin turns 18 and it shall be his time to come of age. I shall send him to the distance land of Sargava,” Mox announced.
“Why Sargava?” Kiro asked as he folded his arms across his chest. 
“I have heard rumor that it is a land rich in ancient ruins and treasure,” Mox replied, “prime for the plundering I hope. I want you to take Nessalin south to the coast and place him on a ship bound for Sargava. There he can prove himself and gather the power and allies needed to strike down Tungdill and the sweet sister-boys of the Iomedae cult.”
Kiro bowed his head and said, “As you wish, my Grace.” With that, his eyes unfocused and a moment later he vanished into thin air...
_______________________________________________________________

As Nessalin packed the meager possessions that his mother allowed him to take with him, he reflected on his life and what had brought him to this day. His life as a prince had not been as leisurely as one might imagine. His true father, Kane, had died when he was only a toddler while defending his mother in a heated battle. Later he had learned it was Tungdill’s magic that had killed his father. An accident, he was told for years. He had been so stupid to have believed it. Curiously, the sister-boys, Davrim and Velox, were absent during the battle and had decided to guard the horses or scout or some such. That to was just another lie. 
‘How convenient,’ thought Nessalin as he narrowed his eyes. ‘It was Velox that started the Great Betrayal by stabbing my mother in the back.’
 However, Mox proved much stronger than Kane, and had dropped the oracle with a single spell. Only the combined efforts of Tungdill and Davrim had driven his mother away in battle. And his former step-father had proven almost as bad,failing to aid his mother in the battle as he had. After being rescued from the vile compulsion, he refused to bring the people of Pitax to the aid of Kardashia and its Queen. It had taught Nessalin a valuable lesson. Trust no one...
_________________________________________________________

Kiro and Nessalin rode a pair of shaggy, northern horses as they entered the city of Magnimar in Varisia. It wasn’t long until they found their way to an old inn called the Greying Griffin. It was there that the pair found Captain Kovack at a table drinking a pint of dark, brown stout. Within the hour, Kiro had negotiated a deal for Nessalin to join Captain Kovack’s crew aboard the Jenivere and serve as one of the ship’s guards on the voyage to Sarvaga.

Kiro departed the next morning and headed back to Kardashia. Nessalin took his place among the crew and tried to make the best of things. He quickly learned the basics of sailing and tried to make the most of the long, lonely voyage. He tried to learn as much as possible about the crew and what they knew of Sargava. As the voyage continued, Nessalin started up a regular dice game after his shift. It wasn’t long until the game attracted more than just crew members. As it turned out, dice is a favorite game of many a half-orc. Two in particular became regulars, the first was a Hellknight and a talented summoner, and the second was an unusual alchemist. He feared a fight might break out when a swarthy, half-orc bardess joined the game one night. The other half-orcs almost fell over themselves telling tales of their bravery and accomplishments to impress the foreign beauty. However, Ness, as the crew called him, kept his stories and birthright closely guarded secrets. He didn’t want to wind up as a hostage and held ransom. Trust no one is what he had learned, and that is what he did.


----------



## JollyDoc (Jul 12, 2011)

*Jack Clyde*

Selena Naevar began her career as a sacred prostitute in the temple of Calistria in the city of Magnimar, in the frontier region of Varisia. There she honed her skills as an informant for the Savored Sting, gaining valuable information and gossip on any and all of her lovers.  She was on a quest to rise to power within the temple, and she was well on her way to doing so with the secrets she’d learned and her skills as a healer.  

Captain Sammael Clyde came to Magnimar due to the few restrictions they had on trade.  Clyde began to frequent the Temple of Calistria after his long and lonely voyages, and that was where he first met Selena.  She was everything he needed… beautiful, smart, and without attachments.  Clyde, however, was not without his own secrets and Selena was determined to find out what they were.  Captain Clyde would always pay extra gold and bring her exotic gifts from around the world, which seemed a bit extravagant to her for a merchant vessel captain.  As it so happened, Captain Clyde was not just an ordinary merchant seaman… he was a Free Captain that hailed from The Shackles aboard his ship, the Ocean's Lust, a light and fast sloop.  Selena used all of her many contacts to keep track of Sammael, which ultimately led her to the truth of his pirate ways.  On his last visit to the Temple to see her, she confronted him about his piracy. Sammael promised her that he had a plan to go legitimate, and join the governing body of the Shackles, which he thought would be a safer environment for Selena and himself.  He had decided to sail in the Free Captain’s Regatta for a spot on the Pirate Council. After he won, he would be able to take care of her forever.  As luck would have it, however, Clyde did not win the race due to a particularly nasty skirmish with a giant squid.  He and his crew were able to push the mighty beast back and escape its clutches, but the battle cost the captain an eye. It was after this that he came to be known as One-Eyed Clyde.  Clyde never returned to his love Selena after his disgrace of losing the Ocean’s Lust on that fateful night.  He also never met his son Jackson either, the child who was conceived on his very last visit with Selena.


Despite her best efforts, Selena found very little information about One-Eyed Clyde.  Mostly she would hear tales of his insatiable lust to find another boat and hunt down the monster that had taken his eye, and cost him his love.  Some sailors believed he had gone mad.  Others said he was still seeking a spot on the Pirate Council through more nefarious means.  Only time would tell.


Determined to raise Jackson herself, Selena put him in one of the best schools Magnimar had to offer.  She also gave the boy his father’s last name.  Though she wanted him to be proud of his elven heritage, she also wanted him to be aware at all times of his human side.  She would tell him bed time stories about his father, and all of the great adventures he was having out at sea. Only she knew which ones were true and which ones she had created for the benefit of her young son.  It wasn’t until much later in Jackson’s life that he found out the truth about his father.  He had left school early one day, as he often did, and wound up at the docks where he sat and watched the gulls fly around the masts of the great ships that lay at anchor.  He overheard a group of merchants talking about the loss of half their cargo to a pirate with one eye.  Jackson caught the name One-Eyed Clyde. He ran back home as fast as he could to ask his mother if this could be the same man she had been told him stories about.  Selena admitted that it might be, and from that point on Jackson was determined to learn everything about his father.  

Every day after his classes, he would wind up at the docks, listening to the stories of the sailors of their travels.  Jackson would always keep an ear out for any word on his lost father.  After Jackson finished school, Selena used her contacts to secure a job for him as a junior Paige for the Council of Ushers. Jackson spent most of his time wandering the city on errands given by the Council, who used him mostly as a gopher for the more dangerous parts of town, sending some message to a guild leader, or delivering packages to a council supporter.   

When he was done with his errands for the day, Jack, as he’d taken to calling
 himself, would usually end up at the Besotted Kraken, his favorite watering hole.  The place looked like any other bar, but when one looked beneath the grime the elegance of its earlier days could still be seen.  The tavern sat near the docks, and sailors fresh off the boats would come in frequently, and tell their stories of their adventures at sea, and their battles against mermen, sea dragons, and pirates.  Jack would sit at the bar and listen to these stories for hour upon hour, hoping for some word about his father.  Captain Clyde’s name would come up every so often, but the stories never really panned out. Usually the last anyone had heard of him was that he had been lost at sea while competing in the Free Captain’s Regatta. On one particular night, there were no stories of adventure, only talk of a poker game aboard the merchant ship Jenivere.  The host of the game, a sailor they called Nessalin, looked to be an easy mark, so Jackson decided he would ask to join.  ‘Why not,’ he thought?  He could use some coins for the next night’s rounds of beer.  

That night on the Jenivere, Jack sat at a small round table across from five other shifty looking characters.  The ante started low, but the game was no-limits. By the end of the first hand, there were several gold coins gleaming on top of the table in small pile.  Jack’s eyes glowed with greed and pride at the bluffing techniques he had learned from the members of the Savored Sting.  
 Looking down at his cards, he realized that the only way out of the hand was to go all- in and hope that would be enough to scare away the other players.  His gamble worked, fortunately for him, for he’d risked all the coin he had.  They played well into the night until, finally, it was just Jack, Nessalin and a man called Drake remaining.  It seemed as though the cards always fell in Drake’s favor.  Jack’s stack of coins began to wither to almost nothing.  ‘Now or never’, Jack thought to himself. All- in again.  That was when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.  Drake’s left sleeve held what looked to be the tip of a playing card.  Jack leaned over and whispered to Nessalin that they may have a cheater at the table.  Nessalin
 politely excused himself from the table for another glass of ale, but when he
 returned, he was accompanied by a hulking half-orc named Gorak.  The last thing Jack remembered was the table being tossed in the air and fists flying.  It seemed that when Gorak got upset, he would proceed to beat everyone around him to a pulp.  

Jack woke to the sound of waves and salty sea water misting him in the face.  He was still on the boat and it seemed they were n where close to land.  Captain Korvak approached Jack and stood glaring over him.
“Get to work, boy, or get off my ship,” the captain said.
  Jack chose the former, and from that point on, he became a member of the Jenivere’s crew.


----------



## JollyDoc (Jul 15, 2011)

*Souls For Smuggler's Shiv*

The Jenivere was some five days out of Senghor, crossing Desperation Bay towards its final port-of-call in Eleder. There were thirty-four souls aboard the vessel, including twenty-three crew, ten passengers, and the Captain, one Alizandru Kovack. The voyage, which began in Magnimar, and had taken the better part of four months, had been largely uneventful, with the exception of a harrowing circuit around the Eye of Abendego, and the fact that most of sailors weren’t exactly thrilled with the excessive number of half-orcs on board.  Now, however, as the journey was nearing its end, the crew was on edge, for it was becoming increasingly clear to them that the ship was off course…many miles off course, in fact. If the Captain continued on their current heading, then the Jenivere was headed into waters known for dangerous currents, piracy, monsters and worse. 

On the final night of the voyage, though none of the passengers were aware this was the case, dinner was served in the galley as it had been every night before, and the conversation was easy. It wasn’t long, however, before the lives of everyone on board were changed forever. There was nausea, panic, fear, and the feeling of drowning followed, finally, by darkness…
______________________________________________________

Agnar felt something rough and grating under his back. Sand? His feet were wet and cold. That sound…waves? The ocean? There was pressure on his legs…something heavy, pressing down on him. Then…a sharp, searing pain in his left foot! His eyes flew open and he found himself eye-to-eye with a true monster! Two large pincers grasped at the air before the sleek creature, while a finned tail bristling with a long, thin stinger rose from behind it. It was like some freakish cross between a crab and a scorpion…and it had apparently just taken a bite out of the priest’s foot! He kicked the beast off of him, and leaped to his feet. As he did so, he was overcome by a sudden wave of nausea, and he doubled over, clutching his knees. The sea scorpion scuttled towards him, its claws snapping at his face. 
“May the Ferryman take you, foul beast!” he cursed. 
Black energy gathered around his hand, and he thrust it into the monster’s face. It shrieked, and then curled up into a shriveled husk on the beach. It was only then that Agnar noticed the bodies scattered across the sand…and the other pair of sea scorpions moving towards them.

Lyrissa thought she heard shouting and fighting. She opened her eyes, but her vision was blurred, and the sunlight above her was so very bright. She knew immediately that she was about to vomit, and she rolled to her side to empty her stomach. It was then that she saw the large crustacean scrabbling towards her. Instinctively, her hand went for her falchion…only to find her scabbard empty. She saw a pile of gear stacked haphazardly several feet away, and she kicked off with her feet and lunged for it. As her hand closed on the pommel of her blade, the sea scorpion’s claw clamped down on her wrist. She gritted her teeth to stifle the scream coming up in her throat. She had not shown outward signs of pain in a long time, and she wasn’t about to start now.  Wrenching her arm loose, she made it to her knees and stabbed down as hard as she could, her sword gripped in both hands. Impaled, the creature rolled into a ball, dead. Lyrissa looked around, trying to wrap her mind around what she was seeing. Bodies were laying everywhere, but she couldn’t tell whether they were alive or dead. Then she saw the creepy priest standing several yards away, cursing to himself as blood ran down his face. Another dead scorpion lay at his feet. Finally, she saw the third crustacean making its way inexorably towards one of the other bodies. Was it Arioch? It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to let anyone be possibly eaten alive. She climbed to her feet, and charged across the sand, her head spinning all the while. The animal turned towards her as she drew near, but she managed to driver her blade into its face before it could attack, and then she collapsed to her knees, her stomach threatening to revolt again.
_______________________________________________________

Slowly, as each one of them returned nauseatingly to consciousness, it became apparent that all of those upon the beach were still alive, though somewhat worse for wear. In addition to Agnar and Lyrissa, there were three crewmen present, and all of the other passengers, save one. There had been a rather plain-looking Varisian woman named Ieana on board. She had boarded the Jenivere in Magnimar, and though pleasant enough, had mostly kept to herself, leading to much speculation among the crew that she might be a secret Chelish agent, or perhaps the true owner of the ship, or even Captain Kovack’s secret lover. Whatever the actual truth, it appeared to be a moot point, since she had most likely drowned at sea.

“Does anyone remember anything about what happened, or how we got here?” Lyrissa asked the others.
Each of them all recounted similar memories of sitting down to dinner, and then a confusing jumble of events, all involving sickness, feelings of drowning, and then…nothing. The logical conclusion was that the Jenivere sank or wrecked, and the survivors washed up on shore of wherever they were.
“I think I can answer that part, at least,” said a gnome, who though he had 
just been through the same trauma as everyone else, was dressed impeccably with not a smudge of dirt on him. 
This was Gelik Aberwhinge. He’d boarded the ship in Magnimar as well, though in something of a rush. He’d entertained the passengers and crew with his quick wit during the voyage, though he had a vicious streak when it came to the misfortunes of others, and only his talent for fast-talking had saved him from a beating on several occasions. 
“Unless I miss my guess,” Gelik continued, “this is Smuggler’s Shiv. It’s an island not marked on most maps, just north of Eleder. It has a reputation for its habit of wrecking ships that get too close…like ours. Of course, most of those ships are smugglers, hoping to avoid the Sargavan navy. Oh, and the island’s also supposed to be haunted.”
“Well,” Agnar smiled, “I’d be willing to be it wasn’t a ghost that dragged us out of the surf. Someone stacked our gear up rather neatly, and look here,” he pointed to a single set of footprints that went to and from the water, along with several sets of furrows in the sand. “That same someone pulled each of us up the beach. I wonder where our savior went.”
“Why do I feel like I was on the world’s worst bender last night, and then somebody threw up in my mouth?” 
This from a trim, athletic woman with elvish blood somewhere in her lineage. She had short, dark hair, tanned skin and fierce blue eyes. She wore tight-fitting leathers, and had immediately fished a tricorn hat out of the pile of gear upon awakening. Aerys Mavato had joined the voyage in Port Peril, and
 had immediately gotten into a fight with one of the ship’s crew when he made an ill-advised suggestion that he and she could share bunks. After beating the man unconscious with her bare hands, she’d spent much of the remainder of the trip isolated in her cabin.
“Poison,” Zavasta said.
“What?” Aerys asked sharply. “How would you know that?”
“Trust me,” the alchemist smiled, “I know poison, especially when I drink it. That explains why none of us can remember the past few hours. Amnesia’s a side-effect of oil of taggit.”
“Perfect,” the half-elf shook her head. “Poisoned and ship-wrecked. I could use a drink.”
“So now what do we do?” Sasha Nevah asked.
She was a striking young woman with tousled red hair and mischievous green eyes. She’d booked passage on the Jenivere in Ilizmagorti, and her wild tales of adventure had endeared her to the crew, though the fact that she was missing the pinky finger of her left hand, not to mention the conspicuous Red Mantis tattoo between her shoulder blades, also made them leery of her. She
 also seemed a little too eager for tales of blood and mayhem, her enthusiasm sometimes bordering on the manic.
“Well, I would suggest we start with searching the ship,” Arioch offered. He nodded towards the sea
The others looked, and there was the Jenivere. She was listing badly to port, partially submerged, and her hull was a gaping ruin as she leaned against a jagged cliff side among several sharp rocks. It was obvious that she would never sail again.
_______________________________________________________

Only the fortuitous presence of a sharp ridge of rock near the side of the sheer cliff wall had prevented the remains of the Jenivere from sinking entirely into the sea, for only the ship’s stern seemed to have survived the wreck. That portion was wedged at an angle between the cliff and the rocks, and each wave shook and tossed the it alarmingly. It wouldn’t be long before the constant pounding of the surf dislodged the boat and allowed the hungry sea to claim the last of the once-fine sailing vessel. 
Fortunately, the tide was low, exposing several slippery rocks that could be navigated up to a ledge on the cliff that overlooked the upper deck of the Jenivere. As the survivors drew nearer, they began to hear a terrible racket coming from somewhere on the lower deck. 
“Maybe someone else made it,” Lyrissa said.
“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Agnar said as he started down the cliff towards the deck.
Secretly, the priest both hoped and feared that the noises they were hearing were what he thought they were. Slim. When he’d first boarded the Jenivere, Agnar had disguised his skeletal minion in a bulky cloak so as not to alarm his
 fellow voyagers, and explained its presence away as a manservant. Throughout the cruise, he’d left Slim (as he’d taken to calling the skeleton) in his cabin, keeping it away from prying eyes. When Slim hadn’t been on the beach when he’d awoken, the priest had assumed it had been lost in the wreck. Now, he had renewed hope that the skeleton had survived, but it also concerned him, for how would he explain a walking corpse to the rest of the survivors?

Several of the others joined Agnar, including Zavasta, the Hellknight Arioch, Lyrissa, and the three surviving crew members, a hulking half-orc called Gorak, a half-blood elf whelp named Jack, and the quiet one who’d run the nightly dice game in the galley, Nessalin. Aerys, Gelik and Sasha remained on the beach, along with the old Tienese fellow, Ishirou, and the prisoner, of course. The deck was canted at a steep angle, so they had to be careful as they clambered towards the steps that led to the hold.
“Slim?” Agnar called out softly as he descended the stairs into the darkness.
“Priest, watch out!” Zavasta shouted from behind him.
Agnar instinctively ducked as the alchemist lobbed a fire bomb over his head, directly into the face of the sea scorpion that had been lurking at the bottom of the stairwell. The creature shrieked and scuttled backwards away from the
 flames. The next thing Agnar knew, Arioch had pushed past him on the stairs and, holding his hands in front of him, seemingly opened a hole in the middle of the air. From this hole flew a screeching golden eagle. It swooped towards the sea scorpion, its beak snapping and its talons ripping. A moment later, Zavasta hucked a second bomb, and when this one exploded, it engulfed both the crustacean and the eagle, destroying them both.
“Sorry,” the alchemist shrugged when Arioch turned to glare at him.

Agnar’s hopes that Slim had survived the wreck were quickly dashed when he saw that his cabin was nowhere to be found. In fact, very little of the lower decks remained at all. Still they searched what they could. The captain’s cabin was still attached, but was a complete mess. A jagged hole in the side had allowed most of the room’s contents to spill out into the surf and wash away. Yet an overturned desk was too large to fit through the hole and had lodged there. One upper drawer contained a set of keys, which Nessalin was quick to drop into his pocket. Another drawer held several sea charts and maps, along with the captain’s log. Nessalin took this as well. A final drawer contained a bottle of fine brandy and a small coffer that held several hundred gold coins.
“That would be the payroll, wouldn’t it?” Jack asked.
“Appears so,” Nessalin said, reaching for it.
“Hold on there, boy,” Zavasta snarled. “Seems to me a payroll is meant to pay the crew of a ship. Since there’s no ship anymore, stands to reason there’s no need for a crew. That makes this salvage, and salvage is usually finders keepers. I think we should discuss the distribution of that money once we get it back to shore.”
Nessalin stared darkly at the half-orc, but merely nodded and stood aside.
The only other thing of use in the cabin was a large footlocker that looked to hold spare gear, including a well-made dagger, a suit of leather armor, and an amulet that bore the symbol of Nethys, god of magic.
“I don’t remember the cap being a particularly religious man,” Jack said.
“He wasn’t,” Nessalin agreed.
“If he was, then he chose his patron poorly,” Agnar chimed in. “Take it all and we’ll add it to the rest.”

The next area they found intact was the ship’s larder. It was there that, in addition to a fair amount of preserved rations, they found the body of the ship’s cook.
“Was he poisoned to?” Lyrissa asked.
“You could say that,” Agnar replied as he knelt beside the corpse. “Look at
 his neck. See those two holes? Puncture wounds…maybe from a snake? Any of you boys remember Cookie here having a pet snake?” He looked at the crewmen.
“No,” Nessalin shook his head. “Captain didn’t allow pets on board.”
Agnar shrugged. “We got poisoned, he got bit. Strange goings-on, wouldn’t you say?”

The only other location on the ship that had survived was the supply room. The first indication the intrepid explorers had that something was not right inside were the trickles of blood that ran from beneath it. The door was stuck, but one shoulder blow from big Gorak remedied that problem. As the door gave way, a second body tumbled out. 
“It’s Alton,” Nessalin said quietly.
“Who?” Arioch asked.
“Alton Devers,” the sailor replied. “He was the first mate. He was a good man.”
Agnar bent to examine the dead seaman.
“Two different sets of wounds on this one,” he observed. “See here? These look a bit older…puncture wounds, but from a thin blade of some sort rather than our snake friend, I’d say. These newer marks, here,” he indicated the man’s chest, “look like inflamed stings. I guess the sea scorpion got to him before he locked himself in. Pity.”
“Can I have a look at the log?” Lyrissa asked Nessalin. “Maybe something in there will shed some light on just what in the Hells went on here.”
Nessalin pulled the book from his shirt and passed it to the bard.

As it turned out, the captain’s journal did indeed make for some interesting reading. The earliest entries, those from previous voyages, were precise in recording progress and events along the way, as were the entries from the first two-thirds of the current journey. Yet, as Lyrissa read on, the more recent the logs got, the less common they became. In some cases, several days were missing entries altogether. The ones that did appear were strangely short, and focused more and more on one of the passengers in particular…the Varisian scholar Ieana. It seemed as if Captain Kovack had become obsessed with her. Several entries were nothing more than poorly written love poems to her, while others bemoaned the captain’s inability to please her or catch her attention. Near the end of the log, the entries began to take on a more ominous tone, with the captain starting to complain that other members of the crew were eyeing ‘his Ieana.’ In particular, he 
suspected his first mate was in love with her, and wrote several times about how he wished Alton would just ‘have an accident.’ The final entry was perhaps the most disturbing, for in it Kovack wrote of how he’d changed course for Smuggler’s Shiv at Ieana’s request. He hoped that the two of them could make a home on the remote island, but also noted that the crew was growing increasingly agitated at the ship’s new course. The captain mused that ‘something may need to be done about the crew’ if their suspicions got any worse.

“Well that explains a lot,” Arioch broke the silence once Lyrissa finished reading. “What kind of weapon did the captain carry?” he asked Nessalin.
“A rapier,” Ness replied. “Why?”
“The wounds on the first mate,” the summoner said. “Seems as if he and the captain may have come to blows before everything went pear-shaped. So none of this was accidental. It was all, in fact, deliberate. But why? What’s the purpose? Surely not something as inane as ‘true love.’”
“Men have done much stupider things for far less,” Lyrissa snorted.
“Let’s get back to the beach,” Arioch said. “We need to let the others know what we found, and decide what to do next.”
______________________________________________________

  The castaways quickly determined that their first priority should be setting up camp and shelter. It went without saying that the local fauna would definitely bear warding against, but there was also the stifling heat that only increased as the day went on. There would be no practical way to be fully armored and burdened, slogging around in that humid furnace all day. It would make more sense to rest during the hottest parts of the day, and confine any exploration they intended to do to the early morning and evening hours. Then there were the bugs: flying, crawling, biting, and stinging creatures ranging in size from all but invisible to as big as a man’s hand. Fortunately, with the rations they’d recovered from the Jenivere, food wouldn’t be an issue for a couple of days. In the same vein, Agnar knew a minor cantrip that allowed him to purify water, so with a whole ocean of it at their doorstep, they wouldn’t go thirsty. In addition to the first mate’s body, they also found a fair cache of useful material in the supply room, including some mosquito netting, oil, lanterns and shovels. None of them hoped they’d be on the island long term, but if it came down to it, they were as prepared as any could be.

Most of the rest of the day was spent assigning duties and preparing the campsite, and when evening came, they were all thoroughly exhausted.
“I could really use a drink about now,” Aerys groaned as she stretched her back. It was the second time that day that she made such a request, Arioch noted.
“You’re in luck,” he said as he produced the bottle of brandy they’d found in the captain’s cabin.
Aery’s eyes lit up hungrily. She reached for the bottle, her hand only trembling slightly.
“Join me?” she asked the summoner.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said.
Aerys took a deep swig, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and sighed deeply. She passed the bottle back to Arioch and stared into the campfire flames for a long time.
“Can I tell you something?” she asked at length.
The half-orc shrugged. “I don’t see why not. We are stranded together on a desert island, after all.”
Aerys allowed herself a half smile. “You see I…have something of a problem. This,” she motioned towards the brandy. “Seems like I can’t, um, be without it, you know?”
“You’re saying you’re an alcoholic?” Arioch asked in a neutral tone. “I would say you’re in a bad situation to have such an affliction.”
“Tell me about it,” she laughed. “Still, I would like to do something about it. I’ve wanted to for a long time, and now it seems I don’t have much choice. But cold turkey?” She shivered. “I’m not looking forward to that. I’ve heard about a rare tropical plant, viper nettles I think they’re called. Might be there’re some on this island. Think you could keep an eye out for some for me?”
Arioch pursed his lips in thought.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll do you one better.”
He fished a small vial out of his pocket.
“Found this on board the ship while we were searching. Thought it might be 
useful, what with all the bugs and such around. It’s a potion. It can cure diseases.”
“So?” Aerys said, looking confused.
“So,” Arioch continued, “you may not realize it, but your…addiction…is actually a disease, not a moral weakness as you probably thought.”
“Really?” she asked. “Are you sure?”
“What’ve you got to lose?” he shrugged.
Aery’s smile broadened as she took the vial from him and drank it down.

“I notice you didn’t exactly break a sweat today while the rest of us where working,” Nessalin snapped at Gelik. 
The young magus was hot, tired and hungry, and the little dandy’s impeccably clean clothes were irritating him immensely.
“I figured that you were sweating enough like a pig for both of us,” the gnome quipped. “Why should two of us wallow in ignominy?”
Lyrissa smirked. “I doubt our little sailor boy knows what ‘ignominy’ means.”
“Oh yes,” Gelik chuckled, “I forgot we were among lay folk. Shall I elucidate?”
“Allow me to enlighten you, you smarmy little prig!” Nessalin snarled. “I can tell you horror stories of your so-called First World that would curl your pointed ears! I’m certain you’ve heard of the fall of Queen Nyrissa?”
Gelik’s face grew pale. “You…you shouldn’t speak of such…,”
“If you don’t get your purple-haired ass in motion tomorrow and start pitching in around here,” Nessalin continued, “you’ll wish your people had never left that land of wisps and faeries behind!”
Gelik gulped as he rose from his seat. His eyes were round as he scuffled off across the camp.
“A little hard on him, weren’t you?” Lyrissa asked.
Nessalin didn’t answer. ‘Trust no one,’ he thought.

“And that,” Sasha laughed, “is how I single-handedly took down four Korvosan Grey Maidens!”
Jack shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve heard some pretty incredible stories 
about agents of the Red Mantis before, but that one takes the cake!”
Sasha instantly grew quiet, her eyes narrowed.
“I’m no Red Mantis,” she said bitterly.
“Oh,” Jack stammered. “I’m sorry…I just thought…,”
“Never mind,” Sasha brushed it aside, an easy smile returning to her lips. “Just a little touchy about my past I guess. My mother…now there is a true assassin of the Mantis. Ruthless bitch. Guess I was a little too wild for her and all of those strict matriarchs in Ilizmagorti. Her sending me to Eleder to look after Red Mantis ‘interests’ wasn’t exactly exile, I guess, but she made it clear what would happen to me if I ever returned home.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” Sasha slapped him on the shoulder. “Water under the bridge now. Hells, we’ll all be lucky just to get off of this rock, much less any of us see our homes again, right?”
“I guess,” Jack said. “Say, in any of your travelling, you’ve never come across a pirate named One-Eyed Clyde, have you?”
“Don’t think so,” Sasha mumbled around a mouthful of hard tack. “Did you notice those flying lizards moving around in the trees today?” she asked, going off on another tangent.
“Umm, no,” Jack shook his head.
“Hmmm,” the girl mused. “I sure would like to catch me one of those…,”

“So what do you think his story is?” Zavasta asked, jerking his thumb towards the prisoner.
None of the survivors knew the man’s real name. He was Garundi, that much was obvious, and his best days were certainly behind him. His matted hair was graying, and he was dressed in tattered rags, with his wrists shackled 
behind his back. He’d boarded the Jenivere in Corentyn, or rather he’d been brought on board there. A Sargavan agent had handed him over to Captain Kovack with instructions to return him to Sargava for trial. The captain hadn’t said anything more about the matter to the passengers or the crew.
Agnar shrugged. “I suppose when he dies of starvation I can always reanimate him.”
“That’s hardly sporting, now is it?” Lyrissa asked as she walked up out of the darkness.
“And we’re not killing one of our own,” Arioch added as he joined her. “We need all the help we can get right now.”
“Who said anything about killing him?” Agnar asked. “I said let him die.”
“We’re not doing that either,” the summoner said tightly.
“Yeah? And who are you to judge?” Zavasta snapped. “You and your devil-worshipping buddies don’t seem to have any problem sacrificing slaves when it serves your purposes.”
“You’re mistaken,” Arioch replied. “My order does not practice human sacrifice.”
“Whatever you say, Hellknight,” the alchemist snorted. “You just keep your distance from me, if you know what’s good for you.”
“All I’m suggesting,” Arioch said, “is that we give this man a fair chance.”
He turned towards the prisoner.
“What’s your name?”
“Jask,” the prisoner said in a dry, husky voice. “Jask Derindi.”
“Well Mr. Derindi,” Arioch said, “why don’t you give us a reason to let you live?”
“Do you think I could have some water before I plead for my life?” Jask asked.
Arioch passed him a flask of water, which he drank greedily.
“Thank you,” he said. “Well, for starters, I’m not guilty of the crime of which I’ve been accused.”
“Spoken like a true criminal,” Agnar laughed.
Jask shrugged. “It’s true. You can believe it or not. I was once employed by the Sargavan government, but I was too smart for my own good. In my investigations into local corruption, I found evidence of my superior’s illicit dealings with the Free Captains. When I confronted him, he had me framed for the crime. I fled Sargava, all the way to Corentyn. I lived a modest life there as a scribe for over a decade before they caught up to me. So here I am.”
Arioch nodded. “Sounds plausible to me. Sargavans aren’t known for their scruples.”
“Bah, do what you want with him,” Agnar waved his hand. “I’m sure there will be a lot more corpses for me to choose from before all of this is over.”

Much later in the evening, as Arioch prepared to try and get some rest, he was surprised to find the old Tienese man standing over him.
“Something I can help you with, friend?” he asked.
“Ishirou,” the old-timer said.
“Pardon?” Arioch asked again.
“My name…Ishirou,” the man replied.
“Charmed,” the summoner said. “What do you need?”
“The woman,” Ishirou nodded towards where Aerys had already bedded down for the night. “She you friend?”
“As much as any of us are friends out here,” Arioch shrugged.
“Huh,” Ishirou grunted, and then turned and walked away.
_________________________________________________________

The next morning, as they packed up their camp, the survivors came to a decision to stick to the coastline in their initial explorations. There was a well-known tale of a group of colonists that tried to settle Smuggler’s Shiv many years past. They were never found nor heard from. The castaways reasoned that such a group would likely have placed their settlement on the coast, and that fact guided their decision. Perhaps they would find some clue as to what became of the lost colony. 

Gelik remained sullen and uncommunicative throughout the day, and showed no inclination to assist the others in any way. Consequently, Nessalin refused the gnome food whenever the group stopped to rest. By contrast, as the day wore on towards evening again, Ishirou and Aerys found they had something 
in common…a love of the sea. He told her how he’d grown up on his father’s ship as a child, but when the ship burned and his father died in the fire, he’d run away and hidden on board an Aspis Consortium ship bound for Bloodcove. He’d served the Consortium from then until now, when he’d finally worked off his debt to them. He’d hoped to come to Sargava to start a new life. He certainly hadn’t planned on his current situation, however. Still, he confided to Aerys that he was not entirely unhappy about their predicament. He’d acquired many maps over the course of his voyages, some supposedly leading to hidden treasures. As it so happened, one of those treasures was rumored to be buried on Smuggler’s Shiv. 

That night when they camped, Nessalin had a dream. More a nightmare, really. He was back aboard the Jenivere, bent over the railing being seasick. After his latest bout of retching, he slumped back and saw the rest of the passengers and crew on the deck as well, all of them sick save for the captain and the quiet Varisian scholar, Ieana. She whispered in the captain’s ear, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. At that point the captain held up a wooden soup spoon, and Nessalin realized that he was holding one as well. In fact, everyone had a spoon. The ship was sinking, and the only way to stop it was to bail out the hold with the spoon! He worked feverishly, but the waters kept rushing in. Just before he awoke, he could see monstrous things with pincers in the water trying to claw their way into the ship…
He woke with a start, unsure whether or not he’d cried out in his sleep. He lay staring up at the stars, listening to the jungle noises all around. It was then that he heard the sound of large wings flapping by in the darkness overhead…
________________________________________________________

The following day was more of the same…oppressive heat broken only by a brief, mid-day shower, and endless hours of walking, searching, yet finding nothing. The monotony of the day was broken, however, sometime around mid-afternoon. A high-pitched shriek pierced the air as one of Sasha’s ‘flying lizards’ swooped down from a nearby tree. It was a brightly colored creature with an overly large head, a mouth full of sharp teeth, and bright, shiny eyes. It shrieked once more, lashed its long thin tail, then folded its leathery wings and dove at the group.
“Don’t kill it!” Sasha shouted as Arioch opened one of his portals in the air and a screeching eagle flew through.
“What?” the summoner asked. “Are you crazy?”
“I want it!” the girl shouted petulantly.
“Too late now,” Arioch shrugged.
It was indeed too late…for Arioch’s summoned pet. The eagle flew towards the pterosaur, which caught the bird in its jaws in mid-air. As it clamped its teeth down on the eagle’s neck, the bird simply vanished, returned to the realm from which it was called. 
“Hah!” Sasha laughed, clapping her hands in excitement.
“Gorak kill funny bird,” the hulking barbarian growled as he hefted his massive blade.
“No!” Sasha cried as the pterosaur swooped down and the half-orc prepared to strike it down.
Just as Gorak’s blade began to swing, however, Jack leaped in front of him. He rolled nimbly beneath the swing and came up with his own sword in motion, slamming the flat of blade into the pterosaur’s head. It dropped to the ground like a stone, stunned. Quickly, Jack stuffed it neatly into a sack and tied the mouth shut.
“My lady,” he sketched an exaggerated bow as he presented it to Sasha.
“I’m going to name him Polly!” she exclaimed, grinning like a school-girl.

As the castaways prepared to make camp again for the night, Nessalin noticed Gelik surreptitiously gathering wood for the fire. The gnome had gone a second day without food.
“Glad to see you get with the program,” the magus sneered, but he tossed some of his rations to the little man anyway. Gelik devoured it in less than a minute. 

Later that night, it was Zavasta’s turn to dream. In it, he was sitting down in the galley aboard the Jenivere, getting ready for his meal. The ship’s cook had given him a steaming bowl of soup, but Zav dropped his spoon. He saw that the deck below was covered with sea water up to his ankles, and his dropped spoon had sunk into the water and washed out to sea through a hole. He was forced to lift his delicious bowl of soup to his lips and drink. Something big went into his mouth as he did so, and he felt a sharp bite on his tongue. He dropped the bowl, only to reveal a serpent had hidden in his soup, and now dangled from his tongue as it chewed furiously. He started awake, biting his own tongue in an attempt to bite through the dream snake’s body. As he looked around in confusion, he saw another pair of eyes staring vacantly back at him from just a few feet away. It was a monkey, very obviously dead, and drained entirely of blood…


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## Hammerhead (Jul 17, 2011)

Just finished Kingmaker, great read. You can't trust those female arcanists; they seem to be universally bad news. 

Jack is a rogue, I assume?


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## WarEagleMage (Jul 18, 2011)

Jack is indeed a rogue using the swashbuckler archetype from the APG.  His player is new to the group.  Serpent's Skull is off to an interesting start with a decidedly interesting party dynamic.


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## JollyDoc (Jul 19, 2011)

THE MONEY PIT

“So I hear you have a treasure map,” Arioch said unceremoniously as he sat down on the log next to Ishirou.
“Have many maps,” the Tienese shrugged. 
“Yes, but Aerys mentioned one in particular,” the summoner winked.
“Women always talk more than they should,” Ishirou grumbled. 
“Truer words have never been spoken,” Arioch chuckled. “Still, we’ve been wandering along this beach for days now, and haven’t found anything useful or even interesting. I think having a specific goal might go a long way towards improving morale, and if you ask me, Aerys has seemed a little depressed about this whole situation.”
Ishirou seemed to ponder this for a few moments, then he sighed and pulled a rolled up parchment from his pack.
“It say pirates bury treasure here,” he pointed to a spot south of their current location. “It say need many men to find treasure.”
“Well then,” Arioch nodded, “we’re in luck. We’ve no shortage of strong arms.”

Arioch was right. When he suggested to the others that they follow Ishirou’s map, they were more than eager. The monotony had been wearing on all of them. They continued along the coastline for another mile or so, and then turned inland, following what appeared to be a game trail. After another hour of back-breaking trekking through the dense jungle growth, the trail  opened into a large clearing that allowed the sun to beat down upon a field of wilted-looking plants, their leaves a sickly, diseased yellow. Two men stood in the middle of the clearing near a large, bulbous plant with tall-stalked, twitching yellow flowers.
“You there!” Agnar called. “Who are you? What’s going on here?”
The men turned slowly, and as they did so, it became obvious that they were anything but human. Their empty eye sockets had diseased-looking vines growing out of them, and more tendrils pulsed beneath their rotted flesh. They moaned hollowly as they began shambling towards the castaways.

“These are no zombies I’m familiar with,” Agnar hissed, “and I’m familiar with ALL of them!”
“They still look like the brain-eating kind to me!” Zavasta snarled.
Arioch tended to agree. He summoned an eagle to perch on his arm, and as the zombies closed, he launched the bird towards the face of the nearest one. The creature recoiled, swatting at the eagle as its talons tore at its flesh. Gorak took advantage of its distraction to cleave it messily in two with his massive blade. Jack ran and somersaulted past the second zombie, but it still clipped the rogue across the head as he passed. Jack rolled to his feet shakily, his vision blurry. Two hazy zombies swam before his eyes, so he did the only thing he could and stabbed the one in the middle. The creature didn’t really seem to react to the pain, but it did obviously perceive the greater threat. It turned towards Gorak as the big half-orc charged, and slammed one fist into the barbarian’s chest. Gorak spun to the side, but still managed to drive his sword through the zombie’s chest. It collapsed to the ground, rotten vegetable matter spilling from its carcass. 
“Watch out for the damn plant!” Zavasta cried out in warning.
The other looked to where he was pointing, and to their disbelieving eyes saw that the plant was MOVING! Zav had a bomb in his hand before any of the others could react, and he hurled it at the plant, where it exploded spectacularly, engulfing the creature in flames.

“So does this mean there might be more survivors here?” Jask asked.
“No,” Agnar explained, as if he were speaking to a dim-witted child. “It means that there were people here at some point, but now they’re zombies, and zombies, no matter if they’re created by plants or whatever, are theoretically immortal. These drones could have been standing in this clearing for decades, just waiting for us to come along and find them. Sorry to dash your hopes.”
Jask nodded. “You seem to know much about the nature of the undead,” he said sagely.
“Hold your friends close,” Agnar smiled, “and your enemies closer.”
___________________________________________________________

Jack dreamed that night. He was in a rowboat on the open ocean under the stars. Sitting across from him, rowing the boat, was First Mate Alton. He was obviously dead, with the wounds and stings his body had displayed on the wreck of the Jenivere, but still he rowed. Eventually, the boat reached an island covered with snakes. Alton waited on Jack to exit the boat, standing ankle-deep in snakes, and then he turned and rowed back out to sea, Jack assumed off to look for more survivors to ferry to shore. But Alton never returned, and Jack woke up just as the snakes started to bite…
_____________________________________________________________

The game trail continued to wind deeper and deeper into the heart of the island, so narrow as it pierced the dense undergrowth that the castaways were forced to walk single-file. Gorak was on point, being the only one among the city-slickers who had any real outdoor survival experience. So it was that his sharp eyes picked out the thin vine strung across trail at ankle level. He held up one big hand to bring the others to a halt. He bent down and traced the vine to a tree concealed in the undergrowth. It was bent double and the vine formed a snare at its tip. The trunk of the tree was studded with sharp wooden stakes. It was rigged in such a way that whoever stepped into the snare would be whipped into the air when the tree snapped up, and then slammed against the tree trunk to be impaled on the spikes. Gorak had to admire the craftsmanship. He pointed out the trap to the others and they all stepped over the trip wire.

“Hold up a minute,” Arioch said. “Does it strike the rest of you as strange that there was a trap laid on this trail? How long ago do you think it was set, Gorak?”
The big barbarian shrugged as he looked down at his fingers, his lips moving silently as he counted.
“Maybe quarter moon?” he grumbled.
“So a week,” the summoner said. “A week since someone laid a trap here. Surely not set for us, for who would have known we were coming?”
“The captain,” Nessalin offered. 
“Even if we assume he and that Varisian bitch survived,” Arioch countered, “it’s doubtful that they could have rigged every game trail on the island. So, that means someone else is here. Now maybe they’re hunting animals, and maybe not, but whoever they are, they’ve been here long enough to be familiar with the lay of the land. Either way, we’re not alone, and that means we need to be a lot more careful. Gorak, I admire your skills, but I know someone who has a real talent for spotting hidden things.”
The summoner closed his eyes and gathered his focus.
“Minion, I have need of you,” he whispered.
A soft, blue glow formed in the air in front of him, and a moment later a diminutive, reptilian creature in a hooded, red cloak stood there.
“You call and I answer,” the eidolon hissed.
“Scout ahead,” Arioch instructed. “Keep your eyes sharp.”
“Don’t I always?” Minion smiled as he disappeared into the underbrush.
Arioch turned back to the others, who were all staring at him questioningly.
“A friend in need,” he shrugged.

It was perhaps an hour later when the castaways heard a high-pitched scream from a turn in the trail several yards ahead. Arioch ran forward, shoving Gorak out of his way. When he rounded the bend, he saw Minion dangling from another snare, his robes soaked in blood. The summoner knew immediately that the eidolon was still alive. If he were otherwise, he would have vanished back to his own dimension. Arioch cursed as he cut Minion down. 
“Little lizard’s eyes not better than Gorak’s,” the barbarian snorted as he arrived on the scene.
Arioch ignored him, but when the others caught up, Jack stepped forward.
“You said these traps were set by someone else on the island,” he said in a tight voice. “I agree with you, but I don’t think it’s some stranger. I think that someone might be right here with us!”
He rounded and pointed his finger straight at Ishirou.
“Him!” Jack shouted. “It’s his map that we’ve been following to a treasure that happens to be conveniently located on this island in particular. An island we’ve been shipwrecked on! Who’s to say he’s not working with whoever was responsible for our being poisoned? Maybe he has cronies of his, smugglers who were already waiting here! He admitted that he worked for the Aspis Consortium, and we all know their reputation! This is a setup!”
Ishirou stepped forward, his hand going to the handle of the curved sword slung across his back.
“You insult my honor!” he snarled.
“Yeah!” Agnar laughed. “Are you gonna stand for that?”
“Stay out of this!” Nessalin snapped at the priest. “And you two,” he stepped between Jack and Ishirou, “need to stand down, now! We have enough problems without being at each other’s throats!”
Ishirou shoved him roughly aside and drew his sword.
“Not so fast!” Arioch snapped, and then he spoke the words to a spell.
Ishirou’s sword slipped from his fingers as a layer of grease suddenly appeared on the handle.
“Boy, if you do it,” the summoner turned towards Jack as the rogue’s hand went for his own weapon, “I’ll take you out! Don’t try me!”
“And I’ll kill both of you just on general principle if you don’t cut this crap out!” Zavasta added.
Jack apparently  thought the alchemist was bluffing. He threw a punch towards Ishirou’s head, which the older man deftly avoided, his speed belying his age. Ishirou countered with an uppercut that smashed into Jack’s jaw solidly. He reeled back, and anger flushed his cheeks. He drew his rapier and lunged at the Tienese. Ishirou side-stepped, then reached down and recovered his katana. As he did so, Jack thrust the point of his weapon into his leg.
“Son of whore!” Ishirou spat.
He lunged just as Nessalin stepped in again, a spell on his lips to try and subdue the two combatants. Ishirou’s blade sliced across the magus’s belly, and he cried out in pain, his casting ruined. Jack saw his chance as Ishirou recoiled at what he’d done. The rogue darted in, but the last thing he saw was the flat of Gorak’s immense sword filling his vision. Then the lights went out.
“You next!” the barbarian growled in warning as he stepped menacingly towards Ishirou.
The old man dropped his sword as he raised his hands in surrender. He did manage to aim a kick at Jack’s ribs before he finally backed away, however.
___________________________________________________________

When Jack came to again, it was late afternoon. His head ached, and he felt nauseous as he slowly sat up.
“Not so fast,” Arioch said from where he sat nearby. 
Jack realized that his wrists were bound…shackled with the same chains that had once bound Jask.
“What’s going on?” he demanded groggily. “Take these damn things off me!”
“In due time,” the summoner replied. “First, we’re going to get a few things straight. As long as we’re stuck on this island together, like it or not, we’re a team. If you can’t accept that, then you’re free to go your own way.” 
He turned to regard the others. “Are we all agreed?”
 His eyes pinned Gelik. Though increasingly more helpful, the dandyish gnome still preferred to lurk around the edges of camp rather than actively contribute.
The others grunted or nodded their grudging assent. 
“So,” Arioch continued, “if we set you free, are you going to stop this nonsense, or do we set you adrift?”
“I was just trying to point out…,” Jack began.
“We know what you were trying to do,” Arioch cut him off, “and it’s over. Yes or no?”
Jack glared for a few more moments and then nodded his head once.
“See?” Arioch smiled. “Wasn’t that easy?”

The castaways made camp along the game trail that night. Conversation was rather subdued, and though several baleful glances were exchanged between Ishirou and Jack, there were no further disturbances. At one point, as Nessalin fed twigs into the fire, Gelik came and sat down across from him. For awhile he didn’t speak, but merely sat staring into the flames.
“Did you know I’m a Pathfinder?” he asked at length, though his eyes didn’t meet Nessalin’s
“Really?” the magus quirked one eyebrow dubiously.
“Well..,” the gnome dissembled, “I guess you could say that, technically, I’m sort of on probation.”
“I see,” Nessalin replied noncommittally.
“When I was in Magnimar,” Gelik continued, “I sold a Thassilonian relic to a local merchant, and it may not have been one-hundred percent…authentic.”
He glanced up to gauge Nessalin’s reaction. There was none.
“Anyway,” he went on, “things sort of got out of hand, one thing led to another, the city guard became involved, and I needed to find a fast way out of the city. That’s how I ended up on your ship.”
“Is there a point to this story?” Nessalin asked.
“It’s just that…,” Gelik explained, “I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, and I wanted to apologize for my behavior. Sometimes I tend to use poorly chosen words to cover my discomfort. It’s not easy to know whom to trust.”
Nessalin nodded.
“Which brings up another matter…,” Gelik said cautiously.
“Of course,” Nessalin said wryly. 
“I heard a story that a Pathfinder Society ship called the Nightvoice went missing in these waters years ago, and the most popular theory is that it ran aground on Smuggler’s Shiv or sank nearby. If I could somehow find out what happened to that ship it could go a long way toward clearing my record with the Society.”
“Convenient,” Nessalin said. “Seems like this little shipwreck of ours has presented unexpected opportunities all around. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Gelik remained silent.
“So if I help you with this,” Nessalin continued, “what do I get out of it?”
Gelik smiled broadly.
___________________________________________________________

Ishirou’s map eventually led them to a low hill in the middle of the jungle. Its crown seemed to be one of the few areas on the Shiv that was not jungle. The entire hilltop was an open area of tall grass that overlooked the island’s eastern shoreline. 
“What now?” Arioch asked.
“Sunrise soon,” Ishirou said. “Map say when sun between two rocks,” he pointed out to sea where a pair of spike-shaped pillars of stone protruded, “then dig where sun touch hilltop.”
So they waited, and when the sun did rise several minutes later, there was indeed a point on the hill where the orb seemed to touch the land as it ascended between the pillars.
“Dig here,” Ishirou indicated.

Even with the shovels they’d recovered from the Jenivere, it still took over four hours of back-breaking work for the crew to dig down ten feet, where they hit a plug of hardwood. A squat skeleton, dressed in the rotted remains of leather armor, lay sprawled atop the plank.
“Bring it up,” Jask said as he stood at the lip of the pit.
When they did, he bent over the remains, examining them closely.
“This was made by a blade,” he pointed to a slash mark in the back of the armor. “And see these deep groves on the ribs? This dwarf was stabbed in the back. The blade went right through the heart.”
“Fascinating,” Agnar rolled his eyes. “What now? Is this what we came all this way for?”
“Everybody out of the pit,” Jack said. “Toss me a rope and tie me off. I’m going to try hacking through this wood. It sounds hollow underneath.”
The others climbed out, and Jack tied a length of rope around his waist. Gorak held tightly to the other end. Then, taking a wood axe they’d recovered among the supplies, the rogue began chopping into the plank beneath his feet. It didn’t take long for the partially rotted wood to give way, dropping the entire plug from under Jack. The rope went taught, and he found himself dangling over a deep pit.
“Hold still!” Arioch said.
The summoner cast a minor cantrip on a small stone. It began glowing like a torch, and he dropped it into the pit. It fell some forty feet before it struck water and disappeared.
“Looks safe!” Jack gave a thumbs up before he undid the knot at his waist and fell into the hole.
“Damn that boy!” Arioch cursed.
Jack managed to turn his body as he fell so that he struck the water feet first, knees bent to absorb the brunt of the impact. Still, the water was ice-cold and took his breath away as he resurfaced. 
“I’m down!” he called back up. “I’m going to swim to the bottom and see if I find anything!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt something seize his foot from below. Then the biting began, and he began to scream.”

“He’s in trouble!” Arioch said.
“Big surprise,” Zavasta snorted.
“Gorak, get that rope down there!” the summoner commanded.
The big barbarian grunted as he tossed the coil back into the pit. At that same time, Arioch began chanting a spell. This time his portal appeared half-way down the shaft, oriented horizontally. From the bottom of it emerged a dolphin, of all things. It chittered and clicked angrily as it dropped into the water behind Jack. For a moment, the rogue felt himself released by whatever had hold of him. He grabbed the rope and began to climb for all he was worth. Below, he saw the water churning, then turn frothy and red as the dolphin surfaced once, its skin flayed from its body, and then disappear again. Then, a pair of pale hands with long, filthy, split fingernails grabbed the rope. The creature that emerged from the water looked vaguely humanoid, but its flesh was rotting and bore many open, ragged wounds. Its teeth were jagged and sharp, and insane hunger burned in its red eyes.
“Hah!” Agnar laughed from above. “A ghoul? How sinister! Whoever built this pit obviously didn’t trust his friends. He must’ve sealed a couple of them alive down below before he killed the dwarf. Ghouls are only created when a person eats the flesh of another.”
“Thanks for the history lesson!” Arioch snapped. “Do you have any practical advice on how to deal with this thing?”
“Things,” Agnar corrected. “Look, there’s another one.”
Jack continued to climb, both ghouls now scrambling furiously after him.
“I’ll see what I can do,” the priest sighed.
He extended his hand towards the closest ghoul and intoned, “By the Ferryman, I command you! Heed my words!”
The ghoul kept climbing. 
Agnar shrugged. “Well, I tried.”
“Step aside!” Arioch snapped.
He opened another portal, and this time an eagle soared out. It dove at the nearest ghoul, ripping and tearing at the thing’s face with its talons. The ghoul shrieked as its eyes were gouged out and it let go of the rope, tumbling down into the darkness below. The bird then went for the second ghoul, but as it drew near, the creature snapped its jaws closed on one its wings. Instantly, the eagle went rigid and fell like a stone down the shaft. 
“Fire in the hole!” Zavasta shouted.
Jack heard the warning and pressed himself to the wall of the pit as the flaming bomb dropped past him. He looked down and saw the explosive strike the ghoul directly in its upturned face. Liquid fire drenched the fiend and it plummeted, burning, after its partner.

Jack was pulled, dripping, scorched and bleeding from the pit by Gorak.
“You’re a fool!” Arioch snarled into his face. “Do something like that again, and you’re on your own! Got it?”
Jack nodded sullenly. He didn’t have the strength nor the will to argue. Arioch stood and called Minion to his side.
“I want you to go down there and see if you can find anything valuable,” the summoner instructed. “It should be clear.”
The eidolon looked dubious as he peered over the edge of the pit.
“Trust me,” Arioch said in exasperation. “I wouldn’t knowingly put you in danger.”
“It’s the ‘knowingly’ part that worries me,” Minion said.
Nevertheless, he allowed himself to be lowered by rope down the shaft. When he reached the water, he dove beneath it, carefully avoiding the floating corpses of the ghouls. The water was no more than ten-feet deep, and at the bottom, he found a small tunnel that ran for a short distance before taking a sharp turn upwards. Swimming up, Minion surfaced and found himself in a cramped air pocket with a narrow ledge carved just above the water line. Atop it was a locked chest.

A short time later, Ishirou and Gorak hauled up the chest attached to the other end of the rope. Minion pulled a set of lock picks from his robe and made quick work of the lock. What lay inside made Ishirou’s eyes go wide with awe. It was filled with coins and gems, as well as a finely crafted buckler and a bejeweled dagger. The most valuable treasure of all, however, was found in a water-tight scroll case. The scroll inside was inscribed with a prayer that would allow a priest to raise the dead!
Ishirou turned to the others. “We rich!” he laughed. 
He stood and gave Jack a friendly punch on the shoulder.
“You not so bad after all,” he smiled.
Jack nodded and extended his hand. “I guess I was wrong about you to.”


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## Hammerhead (Jul 19, 2011)

Right now the party dynamic seems to be yelling at Jack when the rogue does something of questionable wisdom . 

Is it just me, or are rogues pretty gimped in PF, even with their fancy rogue talents and ability to sneak attack undead? With the increased Tumbling DCs, getting into a flank becomes very hazardous. 

On the other hand, there's Offensive Defense...


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## Joachim (Jul 19, 2011)

Well...let's just say that a Rogue/Summoner combo can be quite effective as far as giving Rogues sneak attack opportunities.


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## fludogg (Jul 20, 2011)

WarEagleMage said:


> Jack is indeed a rogue using the swashbuckler archetype from the APG.  His player is new to the group.  Serpent's Skull is off to an interesting start with a decidedly interesting party dynamic.




Jack here-  this is a great group to be playing with.  I just hope to add some interesting moments to the story.  By the way, great read so far.  And yes the party "dynamic" has been very interesting.  I look forward to seeing how it all plays out.


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## Hammerhead (Jul 20, 2011)

Jollydoc, I've a question for you and some of your players: you've been through a great deal of Paizo Adventure Paths...which one did you guys enjoy the most?


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## JollyDoc (Jul 20, 2011)

Hammerhead said:


> Jollydoc, I've a question for you and some of your players: you've been through a great deal of Paizo Adventure Paths...which one did you guys enjoy the most?




Now if you're talking Paizo AP's, and not just Pathfinder, I think our all-time favorite was Savage Tide, with Age of Worms being a close second. For Pathfinder, I liked Rise of the Rune Lords, but with a technical TPK happening, it was disappointing for the players. I think we all liked Curse of the Crimson Throne. Council of Thieves was disappointing all around. Kingmaker was good, but it was almost TOO sandboxy. Too many one-shot encounters. So far, Serpent's Skull looks very interesting to me, but I'm really looking forward to running Carrion Crown.


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## WarEagleMage (Jul 21, 2011)

I would agree with Jollydoc on almost all counts - except I joined the group after Age of Worms.
1.Savage Tide: Compelling story with lots of travel/exploration elements.  Absolutely epic finale.  Truly a case of PCs saving the world.
2.Curse of the Crimson Throne: Basically set in a single city, but done in such a way that it really hooked us in and we truly cared what happened to our town.
3.Rise of the Runelords: Old-school AD&D feel.  Epic overall storyline with a fantastic beginning, and some truly memorable elements like the Skinsaw Man and the Hook Mountain Ogres.  Somewhere along the way we kind of lost the plot, and then we had an unfortunate incident (not a true TPK - since only half the party got ganked, but the rest of us were pretty much stranded).  I have heard rumblings that Paizo may officially update RotRL to Pathfinder rules at some point.  This is one I would like to revisit sometime.
4.Kingmaker:  Cool concept, but maybe not the best execution.  We all liked the story, but with the long timeline there was little sense of urgency, no reason to husband resources, and frankly after crafting all the magic we wanted over literally years of in-game time - we were so overpowered that the ending was rather anticlimactic.
5.Council of Thieves: Just a mess.  There were some cool elements - the Pathfinder Lodge in particular -  and most of us even liked the in-game opera, but the Council itself was a joke.  After a while, we just got tired of the thing and simply finished it out of a sense of duty.

We didn't play Second Darkness or Legacy of Fire because those were still 3.5, andwe jumped ahead to play using the new Pathfinder rules.  I've heard mixed reviews on the former, and mostly good to great reviews on the latter.

One thing that sets the old Dungeon APs apart is the high-level play.  In Shackled City, Age of Worms, and Savage Tide, the AP went to level 20 or so, and you fought truly epic villains.  Paizo has rightly recognized the difficulties of high-level play, but has yet to really come up with a way to handle it.  The newer APs tend to cap from level 15-17.  Also, it is just my opinion, but it appears that Paizo is keeping the scope of things a little smaller these days.   By that I mean that your party is not saving the world, just maybe a small part of it.  I don't know if this has to do with a lvl 17 cap (kind of hard to finght CR 25 demon lords at that lvl), or with the fact that they don't want to disrupt the canon of their game world.  The storytelling is still first rate, and I love reading the books when we're done just due to the fantastic background material, but I miss the epic endings to some of the old APs.


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## Joachim (Jul 21, 2011)

+1 to what WarEagleMage said.  

Age of Worms was fun, but the random monsters that Jacobs came up with that had random abilities (see: immunities) because very tiresome.  Punking Dragotha was effing epic.

Savage Tides...what can I say?  Brilliant execution.

Rise of the Runelords...the lamia at the end of the third module was ridiculous, but Hook Mountain Massacre may be my single favorite small module (The 2E Rod of Seven Parts still being my favorite long module) of all time...except for the part with the dam.  (I am a dam engineer and that whole situation was just too implausible for me to ignore)

Curse of the Crimson Throne - Decent

Council of Thieves - Tripe.  Repetitive encounters with a bunch of  rogues.  At 10th level a cadre of CR4 rogues is not challenging or fun...just boring.

Kingmaker - Nice idea, but the kingdom-building was tiresome (and was broken, by the numbers) so we just stopped.  You never got the feeling that you were ruling a kingdom...just an adventuring party with some interim module fluff.


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## JollyDoc (Jul 24, 2011)

*The Thrune's Fang*

With Ishirou’s treasure successfully recovered, there was no clear direction for the castaways to continue their exploration of the island. Nessalin and Jack wanted to continue to head further inland, while Arioch and Lyrissa advocated sticking to the coast, arguing that if colonists had established a community on the Shiv, it would make sense that they would have done so near the shore. Ultimately, it was the consensus to follow the coast for awhile longer, though Jack and Nessalin privately placed wagers that the trek would be fruitless.

One thing the Shiv was not short of, they soon discovered, was shipwrecks. It seemed as if they would come across another one at least once daily. Most of these were derelict shells, but on occasion, they happened on one whose crew had not completely abandoned ship. Such was the case with a wreck called the Windwar. As the castaways approached the hulk, they were at first hopeful when they saw the figures moving about on its deck. When they drew closer, however, it became obvious that the seamen had long ago shuffled off the mortal coil. They were nothing more than zombies, still clad in the rags of their clothing. The undead, sensing living flesh nearby, immediately began shambling towards the survivors. It was not really a contest. The living outnumbered the dead, and were more heavily armed. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. Agnar, however, added his own wrinkle. In the midst of the melee, the priest managed to enslave two of the zombies to his will. This did not sit well with all of his companions.

“This is an abomination!” Jask protested.
“I didn’t create them,” Agnar pointed out, “but since they’re here, why not use them as a resource? If you prefer, you can take the front line from now on.”
“They should be destroyed!” Jask continued. “These were once men. They deserve better than this.”
“Who’s to say?” Agnar shrugged. “Maybe they were bloodthirsty pirates. Maybe this is exactly what they deserve.”
“If you persist in this, I warn you,” Jask replied, “you can no longer count on my assistance. You know of my healing skills. I’ve tended your wounds, and I’ve protected us all from the tropical blights that plague this place. No more…at least not for you. If you are going to throw in your lot with these unholy atrocities, then you are on your own.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a threat,” Agnar said coldly.
“It’s a promise,” Jask countered.
“Watch yourself, priest,” Agnar warned. “We’ve already seen how dangerous this island can be. Accidents happen.”
___________________________________________________________

“It cannot be!” Jask breathed.
The group had come upon yet another derelict ship. It looked no different from the multiple others they’d encountered before. 
“Are you delusional?” Agnar scoffed. “You must be if you think we’re getting off the island on that wreck!”
“It’s the Brine Demon!” Jask exclaimed as he turned to the others, pointedly ignoring Agnar. “When I discovered the evidence that incriminated my superiors, one of the documents indicated that one of their contacts in the Shackles was a man named Avret Kinkarian. He was captain of a ship called the Brine Demon…this ship! I’d heard that it wrecked in the waters near Smuggler’s Shiv, but I never dreamed anything would have survived!
“What’s your point?” Agnar snapped.
“The point,” Jask snapped, “is that if there is any chance some evidence proving Kinkarian’s illegal dealings with the Sargavan officials is still on that ship, then I can prove my innocence once and for all!”
“You’re dreaming, priest,” Agnar sneered dismissively. “That would have been over ten years ago, plus you’re still counting on getting off this island and back to civilization where you could make your case. Two very unlikely scenarios.”
Jask wasn’t listening. He’d already started towards the wreckage.

Everyone except Agnar and Zavasta accompanied Jask aboard the Brine Demon, and at first glance, the priest was afraid that the necromancer had been right. Much of the ship’s hull was missing, and it was obvious that whatever cargo it had once carried was long gone. Yet it seemed that the captain’s cabin might still be intact, and when Jask forced the door open, he saw a skeleton slumped on the floor, its bony hands clutching at a well-made, watertight darkwood coffer which sat in an open secret compartment in a rotting desk. Jask barely breathed as he carefully slipped the container out of the corpse’s hands. It was still locked, but the mechanism was badly rusted, and one blow from the pommel of Jask’s dagger popped it right open. Inside were three objects: a beautifully crafted, softly glowing dagger, a golden locket which contained a tiny, incredibly detailed portrait of a beautiful, red-haired half-elf woman, indentified along the bottom edge as ‘Aeshamara,’ and several fat ledgers and journals. Jask put the first two items aside as his trembling hands began rifling through the papers. His eyes grew wider and rounder as he read the words he’d not dared hope existed. The documents contained irrefutable proof of collusion between Captain Kinkarian and half a dozen Sargavan and Bloodcove government officials who were skimming off the tithes and taxes offered to the Free Captains of the Shackles. Jask covered his face with his hands and silently wept.
________________________________________________________

“So I’ve been thinking,” Jack said as the castaways gathered around their fire that night. “Isn’t it time this little cadre of ours had a leader?”
“A leader?” Zavasta laughed. “What do you think this is, some kind of adventuring party or something? Way I see it, it’s every man for himself until we get off this rock, and after that, I hope I’ve seen the last of you bunch of losers.”
“I’m not talking about a permanent arrangement,” Jack said. “But if any of us hope to live long enough to leave here, then I think someone should be calling the shots, or at least providing some kind of direction. Arioch, isn’t your order some kind of military unit?”
“If you think I’m about to take orders from some murdering Hell Knight,” Zavasta shouted, “then you’re as crazy as the captain that wrecked us here in the first place!”
“I’ve already told you,” Arioch’s voice was tight with barely controlled fury, “that my order does not engage in human sacrifice, you small-minded pyromaniac!”
Zavasta rose to his feet, his hand going to one of the many flasks at his belt. Arioch rose to, his fingers already beginning to weave a summoning. Suddenly, the campfire flared up in a roaring blaze, and a dark figure stepped out of it. Its form was nearly skeletal, its bare bones picked clean, yet it wore the dripping coat and tricorn hat of a ship’s captain. One of its hands was a gleaming, metal hook, and its whole insubstantial form dripped with cold, brackish seawater.
“It…it’s Kinkarian!” Jask gasped.
“Thieves!” the specter rasped. “Scoundrels! You will return my beloved Aeshamara to me!”
“What’s he talking about?” Aerys shrieked.
“The locket!” Lyrissa shouted. “He wants the locket we found! Give it to him!”
Nessalin, who’d taken the locket, fumbled it out of his pocket and thrust it towards the ghost. For a moment, the apparition stood mesmerized, its head cocked to one side.
“Open it!” Lyrissa hissed. “Show him the picture!”
Nessalin undid the latch. When Kinkarian gazed upon the portrait within, he reached for the locket, and then, with a melancholy sigh, he simply faded away.
“Well,” Nessalin said in the silence that followed, “I guess we’ll table our previous discussion for the time being.”
__________________________________________________________

Most of the next day was spent travelling in tense silence, but at mid-day the survivors came upon the remnants of a quickly rigged shelter, and evidence of a small campfire which sat well above the high-tide line on the beach. 
“Well I’ll be damned,” Nessalin said as he leaned over to pluck something from amidst the refuse. “It’s the Captain’s hat.”
When he held the tricorn aloft, it was obvious to all of them that it was indeed Korvack’s .
“Look at this,” Lyrissa added. 
She held several brightly-colored scarves in her hand. 
“These were Ieana’s,” the bardess said. “I saw her wearing them on the ship.”
“So they survived,” Jack said, shaking his head.
“Only until I catch up to them,” Zavasta growled.
“Tracks,” Gorak abruptly announced from the far side of the camp site. “Two people. Many days ago. They go that way.” He pointed south into the jungle.
“Well then,” Arioch nodded, “looks like our course is decided for us.”
_________________________________________________________

They followed the tracks for days, heading ever deeper into the island’s interior. For the most part, the trail led along well-traveled game paths, and though the signs were subtle, Gorak had no trouble following. At one point, near a fork in the trail, the big half-orc nodded to his left, though the path led away to the right. Just visible through the trees was a dilapidated-looking hut. Though Kovack’s and Ieana’s prints did not go there, the survivors decided to investigate nonetheless. The dwelling was partially collapsed, and stood on the banks of a gurgling stream. It seemed to have been built from a combination of driftwood and tree trunks, with a roof of wide leaves and strips of rotten canvas sail. The front door hung partially ajar. Dozens of bones and skulls, quite obviously of human origin, decorated the hut and the surrounding area, each bearing numerous nicks and scratches. Inside, the conditions were not much better. All that remained of any furnishings were bits of an old chair carved from a tree stump, fragments of fabric, and rusted bits of metal. As the group looked the place over, however, Lyrissa spotted something wedged into a small niche in one wall. It was a leather bound journal. She pulled it free carefully. The years and weather had not been kind to its contents, and only fragments of notes remained. She began to read aloud:

_“…many survived, the Thrune’s Fang will never sail again. Sargava’s assimilation must proceed without…”
“…fine hunting on the Shiv, but the bugs are a constant distraction. Nylithati’s skills at healing help fight the sickness, but I fear she has…”
“…founded. Nylithati has seized control of my crew. They are hers now, and so I have abandoned…”
“…fine home. Fresh water nearby and I need not endure Nylithati’s ceaseless raving above…”
“…will not be returning to that gray, silent island again. There is nothing there but horror…”
“…crew lurking about the area. They seem strange, almost feral. It has been almost a decade since the wreck. I wonder what strange beliefs Nylithati has…”
“…changed. There was no sign of Nylithati in the camp, but the focus of their ceremony was a cauldron they must have salvaged from the Thrune’s Fang at the base of the ruined lighthouse. It was into this they threw the half-eaten body of the still screaming man…”
“…all around. I can hear them chanting in the green even now. They call Nylithati ‘Mother Thrunefang’ now, and promise me immortality if I lay down my arms and submit. I know what their immortality consists of, and I’ll have no part of that corrupt life after…”_

“The Thrune’s Fang?” Lyrissa said questioningly as she looked up from the journal. “Could that be referring to the House of Thrune in Cheliax?”
“Sargava was a Chelaxian colony before Aroden’s fall,” Arioch nodded. “They declared their independence in the chaos that followed. When House Thrune finally consolidated their power, they sent an armada south to reclaim their colony. Only the Sargavan government’s alliance with the pirates of the Shackles saved them.”
“So this must have been one of the Chelaxian ships then,” Lyrissa said. “I guess it shipwrecked here, decades ago. Sounds like their captain came to a bad end at the hands of his own crew.”
“Much like ours will,” Zavasta growled.
“Did none of you hear that part about a lighthouse?” Nessalin asked. “The crew of this ship must have found the remnants of the colony . If they had a lighthouse, then there might be a chance we can use it to signal a passing ship!”
_________________________________________________________

The castaways headed back into the jungle, picking up the path they’d been following easily enough. Twice along the way they encountered the snare/spike traps they’d run into before. The first time it was Nessalin that inadvertently stepped in one. After that, it was decided that one of the zombies Agnar had recruited would take point along the trail, and sure enough, the shambling corpse had triggered another one.

As nightfall approached, Gorak brought the group to a halt.
“What’s the problem?” Arioch asked.
The barbarian nodded towards the tree line ahead. Following his gaze, Arioch saw what at first he took to be more trees, but then saw to be an open-air wooden tower protruding above the palms. Two figures stood within it. He quickly motioned the others down into a crouch, and then called Minion to him.
“Trouble ahead,” the summoner whispered to the eidolon.
“When is there not?” the little creature rolled his eyes.
“I want you to scout,” Arioch instructed, “ but stay hidden. Don’t be long, and don’t take any chances. Come back here as quickly as you can.”
Minion nodded once, and then vanished into the gathering darkness. Several tense minutes passed, with Arioch stretching out his senses, certain he would be able to feel if his companion came to any harm. Then, as quickly as he’d disappeared, Minion was there again.
“Looks like the remains of a village,” he reported. “Several buildings still intact, including a lighthouse. Saw a few humans, savage-looking. All tattooed up and spoiling for a fight. Big lizard staked out where the trail opens up into the clearing.
“So you wouldn’t suggest a diplomatic approach then?” Arioch asked wryly.
“Not unless you want to be the main course at a state dinner,” Minion shrugged.
“You’ve done well, as always, my friend,” Arioch patted the eidolon’s head. “You may go until I have need of you further.”
“As you command,” Minion replied before disappearing in a puff of brimstone.

“What plan?” Ishirou asked.
“I want you, Aerys, Gelik, Jask and Sasha to wait back here,” Arioch replied.
“I fight good as any of you!” the old Tienese growled.
“Exactly,” the summoner said. “That’s why I want you back here. If there are more of these people out here in the jungle, I don’t want them flanking us and hemming us in.”
Ishirou nodded his agreement slowly.
“As for the rest of us,” Arioch continued, “I can create a diversion, and maybe get rid of that lizard. That will give us a chance to get down there and possibly catch them by surprise.”
“Who put you in charge, General?” Zavasta sneered.
“Have you ever been in a military unit?” Arioch snapped. “Have you ever served in a forward position? Do you have a better plan?”
“Just as long as I get to blow up something,” the alchemist grumbled. 
“Alright,” Arioch said, “then follow my lead.”
______________________________________________________

The small whirlwinds came twisting down the trail like dervishes. The Shiv dragon, a tropical variant of a giant monitor lizard, turned its head slowly, its three eyelids blinking. The twin elementals hit it like a pair of miniature cyclones, sending it cartwheeling head over heels until it was brought up short by the chain around its neck. 

Shouts came from the top of the watchtower as the warriors there sounded the alarm. As Arioch and the others arrived, the summoner commanded one his elementals to break off its attack on the dragon. It zipped away in a blur as its twin continued to pummel the lizard until it stopped struggling altogether. When it reached a large building that the guard tower was attached to, it paused just as the door flew open, and men and women began to pour out. They were all universally tanned, but they were obviously not Mwangi natives. Their hair color ranged from darkest black to whitest blonde, and they were decorated with pentagram-shaped scars. Their teeth were filed to sharp points, and their wild-eyed expressions spoke of deep mental instability. They wore no armor, just layers of animal skins, and the only weapons they carried were notched and pitted scimitars. Arioch recognized their scars immediately: the mark of Asmodeus. Incredibly, these savages were in all likelihood descended from the Chelaxian crew of the Thrune’s Fang! It would bring him no joy to kill his fellow countrymen, but he knew that he would be doing them a favor. No true son nor daughter of Thrune would willingly choose such an existence. His resolve solidified a moment later when they tore his first elemental to shreds.

At least a dozen cannibals emerged from the buildings surrounding the small village square. As his companions moved to engage them, Arioch began opening more rifts between worlds. First came a laughing hyena, which bounded across the square to savage one of the warriors, tearing the man’s throat out as it bore him to the ground. Next came another elemental, this one made of earth. It lumbered forward into the melee, heedless of the overwhelming numbers. Gorak towered over the cannibals as he waded into them, his sword laying about him in a blood-soaked flurry of violence. Zavasta hurled one of his bombs into another group, while Jack tumbled and somersaulted among the savages, cutting and slashing with his rapier and saber. Abruptly, a blood-curdling battle cry echoed across the campsite as a truly huge man stepped from the lighthouse. His hair was fiery red, and his eyes emerald green. He bore a large wooden shield carved with the symbol of Asmodeus on one arm, and a gleaming curved scimitar in the opposite hand.  He roared again, and his people parted like a wave before him as he strode purposefully forward. 

The pause in the battle was brief, however, as the violence swirled forward once again. More cannibals fell beneath the jaws and fists of Arioch’s summoned thralls, while Gorak, Nessalin and Jack continued to ply their blades with surprising skill. Even Agnar used his dark powers to good effect, sending his zombies into the fray while he chanted prayers that resulted in small pockets of explosive sound that sent several of the savages reeling. Still, the Thrunefang cannibals had strength of numbers on their side, and it wasn’t long before Arioch’s remaining air elemental went down, followed by the hyena. Then, in a far corner of the square a small gate opened in a bamboo stockade. From it shambled a quartet of skeletal warriors, their jaws clacking and their clawed phalanges grasping. Standing behind them was a crone of a woman bedecked in an assortment of fetishes, with a black-furred monkey perched on her shoulder. Her eyes burned with zealous fervor as she commanded her undead minions forward.
“Kill those two!” Arioch ordered, gesturing towards the red-headed chieftain and the old woman.
Basic military strategy said that if you took out an enemy’s leadership, the rank and file would capitulate. The summoner knew they were not dealing with regular troops here, but he thought that fact might actually work in his companions’ favor. In clannish societies, leaders were often viewed as parental, or even divine. Therefore, he hoped, if the cannibals lost their ‘father’ and ‘mother,’ it might demoralize them completely. Or it might drive them into a killing frenzy. Such were the fortunes of war.

Zavasta took the lead, hurling another bomb into the midst of the savages and opening a path to the chieftain. Jack took the opening, dodging among the burning warriors deftly, and then rolling under a powerful swing from the chief’s scimitar to come up behind the big man. Jack slashed with his sabre, opening up a large gash across the chief’s back, but the cannibal seemed not to notice. He whirled on the rogue, leaned forward and actually BIT Jack’s neck with his sharpened teeth. Jack was taken off-guard and reeled back. The chief smiled, his teeth dripping blood, and rushed forward. At that moment, however, Arioch’s earth elemental reared up behind the chieftain and slammed one of its rock-like fists into the back of the big man’s skull. The cannibal’s eyes rolled up into his head as he fell limply to the ground, comatose.

Meanwhile, Agnar had seized control of one of the charging skeletons and turned it back on the others. In the ensuing chaos, Nessalin rushed the witch, his sword crackling with electricity as he called upon his own magic. The crone’s eyes went wide, and her hair stood on end when the young magus thrust his sword into her belly, sending  the surge of energy coursing through her nervous system. She continued to twitch and shake as she collapsed, smoldering, to the ground. After that, though the cannibals showed no sign of simply giving up, nor fleeing, what remained of them was no match for the castaways. The battle was over within a matter of minutes, leaving several of the Jenivere survivors bloodied and bruised, but none seriously. Arioch had Minion call Ishirou and the others into the village, while Nessalin and Jack tied up the chieftain securely. As the group paused to catch their collective breath, the realization that the lighthouse did indeed exist, and seemed to be in relatively good repair came to all of them. Perhaps rescue from the gods-forsaken Shiv was not such a remote possibility after all.


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## Hammerhead (Jul 28, 2011)

Nice fight; it sounds like the summoner did some serious work that battle. Between an undead lord cleric and a summoner, the party's going to end up outnumbering their enemies by mid levels. 

Makes me wonder just how Jask is going to die though (other than painfully, of course).


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## JollyDoc (Jul 31, 2011)

*Mother Thrunefang*

“Wake up, bastard!” Zavasta delivered a solid kick to the unconscious cannibal chief’s ribs.
The man groaned, then snarled as he realized his predicament, baring his blood-stained, filed teeth. He babbled something in a guttural language, and then spat at the alchemist. Zavasta raised his foot to kick again, but Arioch put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“Just a minute,” the summoner said. “I understand him…sort of. He’s speaking a pidgin form of Infernal, the tongue of fiends.”
“Of course you would recognize it, wouldn’t you?” Zavasta sneered.
“Most Chelaxians would,” Arioch replied blandly, “and these people, savages though they may be, are descended from Cheliax. What’s your name?” he asked the bound man.
“I  Klorak the Red!” the chieftain snarled. “Asmodeus feast on your hearts!”
“If I were you,” Arioch said as he crouched down next to Klorak, “I’d keep a civil tongue in my head…while I still had one of each. Do you see that large fellow over there?”
He nodded towards Gorak.
“If you don’t answer my questions to my satisfaction, I’m going to feed you to him, starting from your toes and working my way up. Do you doubt me?”
Klorak’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the barbarian, then he gave one terse nod.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” the summoner continued. “Now, we’ve been tracking two shipmates of ours, one a man, blonde hair, bearded, and the other a dark-haired woman. Their trail led us here. Where are they?”
Klorak looked genuinely confused. “See man,” he replied. “No woman. Clan brother bring man in as prisoner.”
Arioch cocked his head, trying to judge the truth in the man’s words. 
“Where is the man now?” he asked.
“With the Mother,” Klorak said.
“The old woman we killed?” Arioch nodded towards the crone’s corpse.
Klorak shook his head. “No. That Malikadna, clan witch. Mother Thrunefang down there,” he nodded his head towards a bamboo cover near the wall of the lighthouse.
“Jack,” Arioch called, “take a look under that lid over there, but be careful.”
Jack moved to the cover and lifted it, then raised his eyebrows.
“It’s a pit,” he said. “Pretty deep one.”
“What’s down there?” Arioch asked Klorak.
“The Mother and her children,” the chief said matter-of-factly.
“Explain!” Arioch snapped.
“We follow the Mother,” Klorak shrugged. “If she like sacrifices we give, then she take chosen to be her children.”
“And is that what happened to the man that was brought to you?”
Klorak looked confused again, as if he were trying to remember some remote memory.
“No,” he said at length. “Clansman ask to take prisoner down to the Mother. Him honored clansman. I tell him yes. He take prisoner below.”
“I see,” Arioch nodded. 
The summoner stood and looked at his companions.
“I think we’ve learned all we’re going to from him,” he said. “Gorak, kill him.”
________________________________________________________

No one openly objected to Arioch’s summary sentence of execution for the cannibal chief, but he could tell that at least Gelik and Jask were not entirely comfortable with it. The summoner was fine with that. It was probably time to start establishing a pecking order, as Jack had suggested. In Arioch’s experience with the Order of the Gate, actions spoke much louder than words.

Once Gorak had finished his grisly work, the group fanned out to search the village thoroughly. Aside from the mundane trappings of a tribal camp, they found two things of interest. In a small room in the lighthouse, Lyrissa discovered the remains of several meals, many of which were recognizable as rations taken from the Jenivere…further proof that their quarry had indeed been in the village. The second discovery was the lighthouse itself. As it turned out, the reflector and machinery of the tower looked to be fixable with perhaps only a few days of work. They had found their salvation from the Shiv, but first there was the matter of a little payback.
___________________________________________________________

As the others prepared a rappelling line to descend into the pit, Agnar walked calmly over to the carcass of the Shiv dragon and placed his hand above it.
“Rise,” he commanded.
And the Shiv dragon did rise. It lurched jerkily to its feet, stood on wobbly legs for a moment, and then shook like a dog coming out of a creek, shaking the flesh from its bones. 
“Come,” the priest said, and the skeletal creature followed at his heels like a loyal cur.
Agnar smiled grimly at the stricken look on Jask’s face as he passed.

After much deliberation, it was decided by the castaways that Aerys, Gelik, Ishirou, Jask and Sasha would remain above in case more cannibals returned to their camp. Then one-by-one, the others dropped into the darkness of the hole. The shaft dropped down some forty feet before opening into the roof of a ten-foot high cave. The uneven floor was stained with blood and scattered with pieces of wood, fallen leaves, broken weapons, and in places, bits of bones. All-in-all, it was not a good omen. A single, narrow tunnel exited the chamber, and the group was forced to travel single-file as they began to move as quietly as possible down it.

After a short distance, the tunnel opened into a wide but low-ceilinged cavern. The smell of decay in the air was thick and palpable. To one side, the roof dropped down to little more than three-feet in height over a region strewn with bones and bits of old flesh, while to the other, the ceiling bulged upward in a dome shape. Six circular, pod-like alcoves lined the walls on that side. As the group crouched to enter the cave, they heard the sound of low growls coming for the direction of the bone pile. Two dark shapes crouched there on all fours. They were vaguely humanoid in shape, but were so feral and gangrel in form as to be almost animalistic.
“Fascinating!” Agnar breathed as he saw them. “They’re festrogs! I’ve read about them, but never actually seen one. Remarkable!”
“If you’re going to tell us anything useful,” Nessalin snapped, “you’d better do it now. They don’t look like they’re exactly welcoming us!”
“They’re victims of ghoul fever,” Agnar said in a distracted voice, “but during their transformation, something went wrong. Think of them as undead abortions. They can’t paralyze you like a ghoul, but they are much more vicious. Perfect killing machines.”
“Looks like we’re about to find out!” Nessalin shouted, backing away as he drew his sword. “Here they come!”

The creatures loped forward like rabid wolves, and one of them lowered its head and charged into Gorak’s legs, bringing the big barbarian down like a fallen oak. The second one bowled Jack over just as easily, and as Nessalin tried to leap out of the way, its oversized jaws clamped down on the magus’s leg. 
“Heads up!” Zavasta shouted as he hucked a flaming bomb towards the festrogs. The creatures shrieked as they leaped away from the flames, but both still suffered scorching burns from the explosion. Still, they recovered quickly and both leaped upon Gorak as he tried to rise to his feet. Agnar moved forward his hand outstretched to try and heal the barbarian’s increasing number of wounds. He did this not out of any sense of compassion for Gorak, but simply because he knew that oaf’s strong sword arm might be all that stood between himself and death. Whatever his motive, he was denied his attempt at altruism as one of the festrogs turned and viciously slashed him with its three-inch claws as he drew near. Still, the momentary distraction was all Gorak needed. The big brute roared as he surged to his feet, hurling the undead from him. One of them rolled and leaped back at him in a flash, but the barbarian’s sword was faster, and cut the creature in twain while it was still in mid-air. Before the second one could rise, Lyrissa stood over it and impaled it with her polearm. 

“Look at this,” Jack called as he sifted through the bone pile.
He held up what looked to be a scrap of leather armor.
“I recognize this,” the rogue said. “It belonged to the Captain. Wait a minute…there’s writing on it! Someone bring me a light!”
Nessalin quickly obliged with a snap of his fingers.

_“ ‘I am Captain Alizadru Kovack,’”_ Jack read, _“ ‘betrayer of my crew and destroyer of the good ship Jenivere. Hell would be a welcome escape from what hideous unlife looms before me, but it is no less a punishment than I deserve. That I was enslaved mind and body to a serpentine demon who wore a Varisian’s skin does not pardon me. It is my weakness that led the Jenivere, her crew, and her passengers to their doom. That Ieana has abandoned me here is nothing more than the fate I deserve. I do not beg forgiveness, but I despair that she lives still, and that she seeks something dire on this forsaken isle…she seemed particularly interested in Red Mountain. If you read this and you be a kind soul, seek out what I have become and destroy me, and then seek out Ieana and slay here as well. And to those whose lives I have helped destroy, I can only apologized from this, my dark cradle and darker grave.’”_

“They say confession is good for the soul,” Agnar chuckled once Jack had finished.
“So, are we saying that he died in this room?” Nessalin asked. “Are his bones among these?”
“Or at least he thought he was about to die,” Arioch replied.
“You’re both wrong,” Agnar snorted. “Don’t you see? He wasn’t dying…he was transforming!”
____________________________________________________________

Another narrow passage led the group into a tall, silo-shaped cavern with a dark pool of water at its center. A stone ledge wound up towards a fifty-foot high ceiling, passing several more cave entrances along the way. For a moment, Jack thought he saw a flicker of movement, like a shadow detaching from a shadow at one of the caves high above. Then it was gone, perhaps just a trick of the darkness. 

They started up the treacherous ledge, and turned into the first tunnel they came to. After a short distance, it gave onto a long chamber that evoked the feel of an ancient, hideous cathedral. The walls were carved with images of serpents walking upright like humans, snakes coiling around and eating hapless women and children, and even stranger scenes. Four stone pillars carved like coiling snakes supported the vaulted ceiling above. Four small cells blocked by rusted bars sat in the walls on either side of the chamber, while at the far end, an immense carving of a snake’s head loomed, an ash-caked door clenched in its jaws, while at the near end rose a horrific mound of bones and partially decayed bodies arranged almost as if to evoke the imagery of a coiled snake made of corpses. Agnar smiled appreciatively at the tableau. 

Abruptly, a pair of hissing, shrieking ghouls appeared at the top of the carrion heap, their heads cocked inquisitively at the fresh meant that had just entered their larder. Jack’s eyes widened as they began to advance, because one of them, though emaciated, pale and blood-streaked, was very obviously Captain Alizandru Kovack! Then, before he could fully process what he was seeing, the creatures charged. Whether it was truly recognition, coupled with hatred or regret, the thing that had once been captain of the Jenivere came directly for his former crewmen, of which Jack was foremost. The ghoul slashed at him with its filthy nails, shredding his tunic and the skin beneath. The rogue fell backwards, feeling the monster’s fetid breath on his throat. Suddenly, the ghoul was lifted bodily into the air as Gorak seized it by the neck. It writhed and twisted, spitting and biting even as the barbarian impaled it on his sword. Moments later, its companion followed it into oblivion on the tip of Lyrissa’s spear. As Gorak pulled his sword free from the captain’s chest, Agnar rubbed his hands together greedily as he stood over the corpse.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I found out it was your fault I’m stranded here, you bastard!” the priest sneered. “Now we’ll see how you like eternity as my slave!”
“No,” Nessalin said, placing himself in front of Agnar.
“You’ll get out of my way if you’re smart, boy!” Agnar snarled.
“He’s paid his debt,” the magus said flatly, magic crackling at his fingertips. “I won’t see him defiled in this way. It’s enough.”
“Not for me!” the priest shouted. “I’m taking my pound of flesh!”
“Then take it from Ieana when we find her,” Arioch replied, moving to stand beside Nessalin. 
Agnar glared at the pair, and then looked around. Lyrissa, Jack and Gorak all eyed him grimly. Only Zavasta stood by him.
“This isn’t the end of this by a long shot!” the priest snapped as he turned on his heel and strode away.

Near the door in the serpent’s mouth lay several empty bottles of colored glass.
“I recognized these,” Lyrissa said as she retrieved one of them. “Ieana was carrying them on the Jenivere.”
“Let me see that,” Zavasta said. He took the bottle and sniffed at its mouth. “Healing draught,” he pronounced. 
“Looks like our wily Varisian got herself into some trouble here,” Arioch said as he brushed a layer of ash from the door. “Unless I miss my guess, this door had a warding glyph. Guess Ieana’s not as smart as we’ve been led to believe.”
“She’s smart enough to still be alive,” Nessalin commented.
The door was unlocked, and badly damaged. A small room lay beyond, in the middle of which sat a low stone altar, its sides carved like coiling snakes and its top carved to resemble a yawning viper’s maw. The walls of the chamber itself were carved with images of anthropomorphic serpents using strange, pointed megaliths of stone to work great feats of magic…transforming an army of humans into zombies, calling down flaming bolts of lightning from the stars, or parting the waters of the sea to dash human ships upon the exposed rocks of the seabed below. The final image seemed to have been recently cleaned of dust, and several lines of text had been made more legible via the application of inks and perhaps blood.
“Fascinating,” Agnar mused. “I believe these are carvings of serpent folk!”
“The savage jungle snakes?” Arioch asked.
Agnar rolled his eyes. “You should study your history more, Hellknight. Thousands of years ago, the serpent folk ruled empires mightier than any that exist today. What you see today are just degenerate cast-offs of a once-glorious civilization. I’d like to have a closer look at these pictograms and see just what our little fugitive was interested in.”
“We’ll come back for it,” Arioch replied. “If there’s a chance Ieana is still here, then we need to find her. Let’s keep moving.”
____________________________________________________________

The group continued up the narrow, winding path up the conical cavern. Several smaller caves they passed along the way proved empty. Finally, they reached the top and a long cavern scattered with bones, body parts and bits of seaweed. A hole in the floor on the far side echoed with the sloshing of waves. Four ghouls crouched near the hole, and behind them stood what might have once been a woman, but was now a gaunt, green-skinned horror with long ears, a pointed tongue, and rotting flesh. She wore tattered rags, and a small snake’s skull on a thong of hair around her neck. 
“You impress me, children,” she said in a rasping voice, her tongue lolling in what passed for a smile. “Since you killed all of my Thrunefangs, I will be wanting new subjects to supply me with fresh sacrifices. I offer you all the gift of immortality!”
“You don’t know what true immortality is!” Agnar answered. “You grovel here in your hole, a queen among scavengers, while a bunch of filthy savages bring you scraps! I make you a counter-offer, ‘Mother Thrunefang.’ Kneel before me now, and I will make you first among my minions. Think carefully before you answer. The Ferryman does not make such offers twice.”
“Impudent fool!” Nylithati spat. “Kill them all!” she commanded her thralls. “But take the priest alive!”

Anticipating the turn of events, Arioch had already prepared his summoning. A small air elemental, whirling like a dust devil burst among the ghouls. On its heels, he called an earth elemental, which quickly sank into the stone floor of the cave, only to reemerge a moment later in the midst of the fiends as well.
“Great move!” Jack cheered. “I’ve got a straight shot to the old lady!”
“Jack, no!” Arioch shouted, but it was too late. The rogue was off and running.
Jack threw himself into a tumbling dive and came up on his feet right next to Nylithati. He grinned fiercely as he gripped both of his blades, but his smile turned to confusion as Mother Thrunefang waggled a finger at him. In a flash, all four ghouls were upon him like a pack of wild dogs. Jack went down beneath them, and when the lacedons turned back to the elementals, the rogue lay motionless on the ground.

Lyrissa, inexplicably, began to sing. As she did, she wove a spell into the words, and a moment later a patch of greasy oil appeared beneath the feet of one of the ghouls. It slipped and fell to the floor, and the earth elemental pounced on it. Gorak took the opportunity to wade in, his wide swing grazing Nylithati’s chest. Hissing with rage, she bared her claws and leaped at him. At her command, one of the ghouls turned on the big barbarian as well. As it moved to attack, however, it suddenly jerked upright, whirled around, and then leaped at one of its brethren.
“I warned you!” Agnar grinned evilly as he winked at Nylithati. “Just like your pathetic pets, you will be mine as well!”
The ghoul on the ground in the grease stain struggled to regain its feet, but as it slipped again, Gorak spun away from Nylithati and cut it down.  Behind him, Nessalin and Zavasta took down another one, the magus’ blade crackling with magical energy, and the alchemist’s bomb doing the rest. Gorak started to turn back to Nylithati, but as he did, she seized his shoulder with alarming strength, dislocating it as she spun him completely to face her. Her other hand flashed out, he claws slashing across the barbarian’s throat. He fell, still breathing, barely, but bleeding profusely. She then leapfrogged over her two minions tearing at each other’s throats and pounced on Lyrissa. The bardess couldn’t bring her polearm to bear, and fell back, struggling to keep the ghoul away from her throat. Agnar could tell that Mother Thrunefang was coming for him. He suddenly felt his control of his ghoul wrenched away, as Nylithati sent them both howling towards his allies. Her red eyes locked on to Agnar’s, and she charged, all teeth and claws. The priest back-pedaled, but he knew he wasn’t fast enough. Just as Nylithati leaped, however, Zavasta caught her with a direct hit from one of his bombs. She fell to the floor in flames, screaming and thrashing. Nessalin saw his chance and rushed her, his scimitar laced with electricity. As she tried to rise, he slashed her throat, sending a jolt of lightning through her body. The splash from Zavasta’s bomb strike set one of the charging ghouls alight as well, and it fell halfway through its assault. The final one was no match for Arioch’s elementals, and it went down in a flurry of wind and stone. 
_____________________________________________________________

Jack and Gorak were still alive, but in bad shape.  Lyrissa tended their wounds and prepared them to be moved back topside. Nessalin stood over Jack, his thoughts a jumble. During their time together on the Jenivere, they’d been on good terms. Not exactly friends, but close enough as far as shipmates went. Ever since the wreck, however, Jack had been acting erratically, throwing himself into deadly situations without a second thought, and consequently putting the rest of them at risk. For the briefest of moments, Nessalin considered killing Jack where he lay. After all, it was possible that the rogue had contracted ghoul fever from his wounds, wasn’t it? Suddenly, he didn’t feel so well. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and maybe a bit nauseous. His vision swam, and darkness took him.
__________________________________________________________

As it turned out, Jack, Gorak and Nessalin had all contracted ghoul fever. Jask spent the next several days tending to them, working slavishly to keep them alive. During the interim, several of the castaways set about assessing what repairs the lighthouse would need to be restored to full operation. Agnar, meanwhile, Agnar went  back into the caves to further investigate the strange pictograms and writings they’d discovered in the chamber beyond the snake’s mouth. He puzzled out that the god the serpentfolk in the carvings were worshipping was called Ydersius. The name was vaguely familiar from some of his basic studies. The ritual depicted in the carvings was an odd one: it showed serpentfolk splashing blood on curved runes carved on upright stones before a red mountain, and then holding venomous against the blood that they might lick the stones, pouring water onto a pyramid-shaped block of red stone from a bowl, and standing before the pyramid of stone with arms upraised and mouths agape as if shouting to the heavens as a bolt of lightning arced up from the stones into the sky.  Writing beneath the carvings read: 

_‘To command the very tides to rise up and eschew what lies below: empower the four sentinel runes with the blood of a thinking creature tempered by the kiss of a serpent’s tongue. Anoint the tide stone with waters brought from the sea in a vessel of purest metal. Invoke the Lord’s sacred name to wrap His coils around the sea itself that He might lay bare what lies below and cast down your enemies on the waves above.’_
_____________________________________________________________

“I think I know what Ieana is up to,” the priest announced when he returned to the surface. 
At that moment, from somewhere several miles south of the village, bolts of lightning lanced from the ground towards the sky, and a sound of distant rumbling, like prolonged thunder, filled the air.
“Too late,” Agnar said.


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## JollyDoc (Aug 10, 2011)

While I'm getting caught up on the StoryHour after a week at GenCon, I recommend ya'll check out WarEagleMage's Adventures in Darkmoon Vale. WarEagleMage is currently playing Lyrissa in this campaign, but he's started an at-home game with his kids and their friends, all around 10 or 11. Reading it reminds me of when I picked up my first set of dice. It was all downhill from there!


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## JollyDoc (Aug 14, 2011)

*The Red Mountain Devil*

“You’re sure it’s her?” Arioch asked.
“No, I’m not sure,” Agnar shrugged, “but who else shipwrecked us here, left us to die, turned the captain into a ghoul, and just happened to be researching some ancient ritual involving magic stones that shoot lightning into the sky?”
“I see your point,” the summoner conceded. “So what now?”
He turned to the others. The other castaways stood in circle in the middle of the Thrunefang encampment. Some of them looked nervous, and all of them looked uncertain about the events of the past few days. 
“I want some payback,” Nessalin was the first to answer.
“What about getting rescued?” Gelik asked. “The lighthouse is almost ready!”
“Then it will still be ready in a week,” Nessalin snapped. “You can stay here if you want.”
“Actually, I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” Arioch interjected. “I’m not about to let Ieana get away with this either, but I don’t think all of us need to go after her. Some should stay here and keep working on the lighthouse. If the rest of us aren’t back within a week, then someone needs to signal a passing ship and be able to tell the tale of what happened here. Ishirou, I think you should be in charge of this group, not because I don’t feel you’re capable of coming with us, but because I think you are best able to defend the others if there are any more Thrunefangs still out there.”
The old sailor thought about it for a few moments, then nodded silently. 
“So who else is going?” Nessalin asked.
One by one, others raised their hands: Jack, Agnar, Gorak, Lyrissa, Zavasta…and Jask.
“You??” Agnar asked, shocked. “Why are you going?”
“To protect the others from you,” the priest replied simply.
“It’s settled then,” Arioch smiled slightly. “We leave immediately.”
____________________________________________________________

The group set out along the coast, heading generally south and east, towards a distant mountain with a reddish hue. That seemed to be the source of the strange weather they’d observed. It turned out not to be a short trek, however. It took many days, monotonous slogs punctuated by the occasional discovery of another derelict shipwreck, or the sudden, unexpected attack by some of the local wildlife. Finally, they reached the red mountain, which was really not much more than a high bluff that overlooked a sheltered bay. Four stone monoliths that appeared as jagged stalagmites of rock protruded from the grass at the edge of the cliff. A weathered, snakelike rune was carved into the inner face of each of the stones, all of which faced a three-foot-high pyramid-shaped block of stone at the center of the four surrounding spires. The vegetation and soil that surrounded the pyramid had been trimmed back and excavated to expose the strange block fully to view. The peak of the pyramid had a cup-shaped indentation, and channels ran down the four sides into empty basins at its base. 

“It’s exactly like the pictograms depicted,” Agnar remarked. 
“So now what?” Nessalin asked. 
“Well first we need some blood,” the priest smiled, “from an intelligent creature. I nominate Jask.”
“I’ll do it,” Nessalin volunteered before another good priest/bad priest argument erupted.
The magus took his rapier and pricked his palm with the tip.
“Next?” he asked Agnar.
“Smear it on each of the runes on the pillars,” Agnar instructed.
Nessalin nodded and placed his palm on each the sigils in turn.
“Now we need snakes,” Agnar said.
“Covered,” Arioch replied.
The summoner then proceeded to conjure up a writhing viper out of thin air.
“Outstanding!” Agnar nodded. “Hold it up to each of the pillars. It’s supposed to lick the blood.”
“I’m not entirely comfortable with this pagan ritual,” Jask said.
“What a surprise,” Agnar snapped. “No one asked you to come. Ieana came here, and she performed this same ritual. If we’re going to find her, we need to retrace her steps exactly.”
“It’s going to be ok,” Arioch reassured the Sargavan. “Let’s just get it over with.”
“We need water in a metal bowl or container,” Agnar said as he looked around. “Gorak, your helm.”
The big barbarian looked confused.
“Take your helmet off,” the priest sighed, “and go get some water in it. Don’t spill it.”
Gorak nodded and hurried off. He returned a few moments later with his helm full. Agnar took it from him and poured it atop the central pyramid, where it ran down the four channels to collect in the basins below.
“Ydersius!!” Agnar then shouted as he tossed the helmet aside.
Suddenly, tremendous bolts of lightning arced up into the sky from the surrounding stone monoliths. All of the castaways were hurled to the ground by the shockwave, their ears bleeding as their drums ruptured. The ground began to shake as a sound like thunder, more felt than heard, emanated from the lagoon below the bluff. Jack crawled to his feet and peered over the edge. To his utter amazement and shock, he saw the waters roiling and receding out to sea, exposing rocks, flopping fish, and several sunken ships to the air. At the base of the cliff, a pair of large stone doors previously hidden by the water, slowly and noisily ground open as the water level lowered. 
“You have to see this!” Jack shouted as he turned towards the others, but then something else caught his eye.
A monstrous creature was rising up above the other side of the bluff on great, leathery wings. It was otherwise reptilian, and roughly the size of a man, with clawed talons and an oversized jaw filled with fangs suited for ripping and tearing. As the others started to stand, the creature let out a deafening roar and dove towards them.

The monster swooped low and slashed at Jask just as the cleric reached his feet. He was knocked reeling, tumbling dangerously close to the edge of the bluff. Agnar couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle, and silently prayed that the bothersome holy roller was dead. As the creature banked and wheeled for another pass, however, Arioch tore open a rift in the sky before it. The whirlwind form of an air elemental came rushing out and buffeted the beast, making it veer off course towards Lyrissa instead. As it moved in, Jack appeared out of nowhere, running and leaping into the air, attempting to grab the monster’s legs. It swiped viciously at him, sending him spinning away. Lyrissa managed to get her pole arm up and slash at the beast, but it still bit down hard on her arm. She cried out in dismay as she felt herself being lifted into the sky, but then a second elemental answered Arioch’s call, and the pair of them hammered into the winged devil from both sides. It shrieked and wheeled away again, heading for edge of the cliff, attempting to escape. At Arioch’s command, the elementals pursued. They easily closed the distance with the monster, but as they drew near, it turned on them, ripping one of them out of the air. The second one, however, beat it mercilessly about the head as it grappled, until finally, it fell screeching towards the jagged rocks below.
____________________________________________________________

Several ledges, each connected by rickety-looking rope bridges, led down into a rocky cleft to the beach below. The castaways slowly picked their way down the hundred-foot descent to the seaweed-covered rocks and tide pools where the lagoon used to be.  The sandbars between the pools weren’t very far apart, but as the group began jumping cautiously from one to the next, Agnar lost his footing on the slippery rocks and plunged into one of the deeper pools. With his armor and gear weighing him down, the priest began to sink. Though most of the water in the lagoon had receded, waves still washed over the rocks and pools, and the current was strong. Agnar found himself struggling desperately as it pulled him deeper and deeper. Then he saw the shadowy form swimming towards him out of the murk. The shark opened its jaws and rolled its eyes up as it struck.

When he first saw the blood appear in the water, Gorak did not hesitate, but simply dove in. Whether it was out of a sense of duty to save his comrade, or just a basic instinctive reaction to bloodlust, he couldn’t say. What he did realize much too late, however, was that he had never learned to swim during his time on the open plains of the Stolen Lands. He promptly sank like a rock. 
“Why does it seem like I’m the one who always has to save these idiots?” Jack sighed as he stripped off his shirt and plunged into the tidal pool.
“I keep asking myself that same question,” Arioch muttered.
The summoner shook out his sleeves, and began a calling. A moment later, a pair of red-skinned porpoises with dorsal fins that were hooked and barbed, and teeth like those of a barracuda, appeared and dove into the water.
“What…what were those…things?” Jask asked.
“Hell-spawned  dolphins,” Arioch replied.
“Oh,” the priest said, “that’s what I thought.”

The fiendish dolphins rammed and harassed the great blue shark, forcing it away from Agnar, and allowing the priest to kick frantically towards the surface. The shark turned on its attackers and tore at them viciously. The water frothed with gore and blood, and out of the murk swam Jack, his sabre clenched in his teeth. With the shark distracted, the rogue grabbed his blade, and then shoved it into the gills of the huge fish. The shark heeled over and began to sink slowly towards the bottom, the hellish dolphins quickly following, eager to feed. Jack glanced up and saw that Agnar had safely reached the surface, while below, Gorak was slowly being pulled out to sea by the current. Jack swam down, uncoiling a rope from his belt as he went. He caught up to the big barbarian, who in turn grabbed the rope and wrapped it around his waist. Jack then swam upwards for all that he was worth, but his chest burned, and he knew he was not going to make it. Suddenly, the terrifying dolphins were at his sides, lifting him upwards. His head broke the surface just as his breath gave out, and behind him, Gorak came up sputtering as well. Agnar was already back up on the sandbar, and Zavasta cast another rope out to Jack and Gorak, hauling them back into calmer waters.

“You’re injured,” Jask said as he kneeled down next to Agnar.
“You have a flare for the obvious,” the necromancer growled.
“I’d be happy to help you,” Jask shrugged. “All you have to do is dismiss your undead servant.”
He looked over to where the skeletal form of the Shiv dragon crouched on the rocks.
“Go to Hell!” Agnar snarled.
“I thought that’s how you’d feel,” Jask smiled. “Just thought I’d offer anyway.”
He got up and strode away, leaving Agnar bleeding on the sand.
_________________________________________________________

Between the exposed sandbars and the open stone doors at the bottom of the lagoon lay the front two-thirds of a wrecked ship upon the rocks. Its bow was still mostly submerged, but its ruined midsection was propped up on a ridge of slimy shoal. The sides of the wreck were thick with seaweed and barnacles, and dozens of crabs clattered around on the deck.  The group clambered across the listing deck, spotting an open hatch that led below decks as they did so. Jack glanced down as he passed, and saw what looked like the remains of a galley. On the far side of the seaweed-draped room, he could just see a door propped open by a rotting chair. 
“Wait a minute,” he called to the others.
“What now?” Agnar barked. “We don’t know how long those doors are going to be open, or when this place is going to be flooded again! You may not have noticed, but I don’t swim so well.”
“It won’t take long,” Jack said as he lowered himself through the hatch. “I’ll be right back.”
Jack was on a mission, one that he said nothing of to his fellow travelling companions. He’d insisted on searching every shipwreck they’d come across since being marooned on the Shiv. He’d both hoped and dreaded finding what he’d been looking for ever since he took passage aboard the Jenivere…his father’s colors. It had been awhile since he’d heard of any sightings of One-eyed Clyde, and Jack had come to believe that his father might truly be dead like the rumors alleged. So far, he’d found nothing, but that didn’t stop him from continuing his search. Now he crept towards the open door behind the galley, and pulled it slowly open.

Once a fine cabin, perhaps even the captain’s cabin, the chamber was in ruins. The furniture, including a crushed desk and a bed, lay in a heap near the bow, and seaweed and other tidal life glistened on the walls. A layer of seawater covered the floor, deeper near the bow than by the door. Suddenly, the water erupted in a fountain as a small creature leaped into the air. It was vaguely humanoid, but had wings on its back, and on the whole, looked to be made of pure liquid. A tricorn hat was perched jauntily on its head.
“Stand tall, sailor!” the creature commanded. “Report on this damnable low tide!”
“Umm, excuse me?” Jack asked.
“Get the barnacles out o’yer ears, boy!”  the creature snapped. “I asked fer yer report! That be an order!”
“Umm, I’m sorry, er, Captain…?”
“Ekubus!” the creature barked. “Cap’n o’the Salty Strumpet! Who be ye?”
“I’m Jack, Jack Clyde,” Jack answered. “You wouldn’t know if your crew included a man called One-eyed Clyde, would you?”
“Never heard o’im!” Ekubus said. “Me last First Mate got himself carried off by that winged devil topside! Now, what o’ this low tide? This be the second time it’s happened in a fortnight!”
“Really?” Jack asked. “Did you see another person…like me the first time?”
“Nah, not like ye!” Ekubus shook his head. “Was a funny lookin’ critter what came down from the ledge and swam over to them scary doors, then went inside like a damned fool!”
“Funny looking?” Jack asked. “How so?”
“Well, it had a snake head and a snake tail!” Ekubus shrieked. “That were funny lookin’ enough fer me! Just ask Patrick and Krusty there. They’ll tell ye the same!”
Jack looked around and saw a forlorn looking crab and a starfish lying on the deck. They didn’t look particularly communicative.
“I’ll…take your word for it,” he replied to Ekubus. “Why did you say that those doors were scary?”
“Don’t ye think underwater doors with pictures o’ vampires on’em is scary?” Ekubus said.
“Uh…yeah, I guess I do,” Jack agreed.
“Then I guess yer head ain’t made o’ wood!” Ekubus snapped. “Now, go take care o’ this low tide, and leave me t’me work!”
With that, the odd little creature dove back into the surf.


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## Hammerhead (Aug 14, 2011)

Jollydoc said:
			
		

> Lyrissa, inexplicably, began to sing.




This has to be what everyone thinks, when they see a bard in action. Why the hell is this idiot singing? Did I wander onto the set of a Broadway musical instead of a dungeon?


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## javcs (Aug 14, 2011)

Hammerhead said:


> This has to be what everyone thinks, when they see a bard in action. Why the hell is this idiot singing? Did I wander onto the set of a Broadway musical instead of a dungeon?




True that. Bards probably make the least sense out of any class.


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## WarEagleMage (Aug 14, 2011)

I agree that the spontaneous singing is pretty ridiculous.  Which is why Lyrissa doesn't sing.  She does perform oratory and dance, however.  I think our good doctor was just taking a little creative license in his SH.  As for the validity of bards, I think it's a situational thing.  We have a large party, and all the primary roles are covered.  While the fluff surrounding them may annoy some, bards are a force multiplier when it comes to the bonuses they provide to everyone in the party.  Those quickly add up.  Lyrissa is currently designed to a) provide buffs to the party in the form of performances and spells, b) to impose de-buffs on enemies in the form of dazzling display and spells, c) to be the party's diplomancer, d)to assist in melee combat using her reach/trip weapon, e) to be a backup party wand healer, f) to utilize UMD to be a cast-anything caster.  There you have it.  She's primarily a buffer/de-buffer, but she can contribute as a secondary anything.  I wanted to play a character that can do _something_  every round, and Lyrissa fits that bill nicely.


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## JollyDoc (Aug 14, 2011)

Speechifying and pole-dancing don't make much sense on a battlefield either...


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## fludogg (Aug 14, 2011)

Well I for one would be dazed watching a pole-dancer on the battlefield.


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## Joachim (Aug 16, 2011)

fludogg said:


> Well I for one would be dazed watching a pole-dancer on the battlefield.




Or nauseated, depending on condition of said dancer.


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## javcs (Aug 20, 2011)

Joachim said:


> Or nauseated, depending on condition of said dancer.




Mental image I did _not_ need.
Pass the brain bleach, please. And lots of it.


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## Joachim (Aug 20, 2011)

javcs said:


> Mental image I did _not_ need.
> Pass the brain bleach, please. And lots of it.




Some things, once seen, cannot be unseen.


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## JollyDoc (Aug 21, 2011)

*The Azlanti Temple*

The two stone doors stood open at the base of the cliff above a curling spur of rock. Seaweed covered the doors, hanging down in thick green and black sheets, just obscuring some sort of carvings on their surface. On closer inspection, the carvings were revealed to be disturbing scenes of vampiric demons feasting on human maidens. Slowly, deliberately, the castaways made their way inside. The doors gave onto a wide stone stairway that ascended up into darkness. The steepness of the incline made it obvious that, even if the waters from the lagoon made it inside, they would not be in any danger of flooding whatever lay beyond. At the top of the stairs, over a dozen stone pillars supported the vaulted ceiling of a cavernous chamber. Near the entrance, four empty alcoves, two on each side, sat in the walls, their edges carved to resemble yawning, fanged mouths. At the far side, a pair of bronze doors that seemed to drip with blood sat under a stone bridge that passed through the upper portion of the room some forty feet above. The walls were decorated with unsettling carvings of bats, human sacrifice, and the walking dead. The dismembered, skeletal bodies of three humans lay scattered on the floor. As the company moved cautiously into the chamber, a sudden sharp whistling pierced the air as a pair of javelins embedded themselves in the floor directly in front of them. As one, everyone looked up and saw two figures standing atop the bridge above. Green eyes glowed from the serpentine skulls of the skeletal creatures. 
“Undead snake-men,” Agnar mused. “Fascinating!”
“Don’t stand there gawking, you idiot!” Zavasta snarled as he shoved his friend forward. “Run!”

The group began running for cover beneath the bridge, but Jask was a step too slow. A javelin hit him solidly in the belly, and he stumbled, staggering into a wall, gasping for breath. Agnar saw it happen, but didn’t slow. He just smiled to himself and ducked beneath the bridge. Gorak did pause, however. The big barbarian unslung his bow and launched an arrow at one of the skeletal snipers, only to see it bounce harmlessly off the creature’s ribcage. It still gave Jask the moment he needed. The priest clutched his holy symbol and breathed a prayer to Nethys. Holy energy filled him, staunching the blood from his wound as he pulled the javelin free, and closed the hole behind it. Nodding his thanks to Gorak, he darted beneath the bridge. The skeletons were not to be denied their quarry. Heedless of the fall, they both simply stepped off the bridge and crashed to the floor below. Despite several cracked bones, they climbed deliberately to their feet and began shambling towards the group. Gorak drew his greatsword and stepped forward to meet them. The nearest one hissed and ran at him, its boney claws tearing at his flesh, but the barbarian quickly leveled the playing field with a massive swing of his blade that completely smashed the degenerate skeleton to slivers. He turned, expecting the second one to be right on top of him. Instead, it stood placidly in front of Agnar, and at the priest’s command, it knelt before him. Agnar turned to smirk at Jask, whose face burned with anger.
____________________________________________________________

After Jack tossed a rope with an attached grapnel up to the bridge, the group ascended one-by-one. Jack had reasoned, and none of the others disagreed, that if the skeletons had been deliberately set upon the span, then perhaps that was what they were guarding, and not the more obvious choice of the great iron doors below. Once atop the bridge, they saw smaller, single doors standing at each end. Arbitrarily, they chose to go left. The door was not locked, and it opened onto a long, darkened hallway. Agnar sent his new skeletal minion ahead as a scout, and as it turned out, that was a fortuitous decision. Halfway down the corridor, an audible click sounded from beneath the skeleton’s feet. The floor in front of it suddenly split in half and fell away to both sides, revealing a deep pit beneath. For a breathless moment the skeleton teetered right on the edge, but at the last second, it took a step back and avoided crashing to oblivion. 
“That’s a fine dog you’ve got yourself,” Jask sneered at the necromancer.

Jack was ultimately able to reset the trap and then jam the mechanism, allowing his companions to safely bypass it. Further down the hall, however, they encountered another…then another. If the number of hazards they were encountering was any indication, then they were definitely on the right track to find someone or something that didn’t want to be found.  Ultimately, the series of passages ended at a large, bronze door. It bore eerie runners of red, almost as if the metal were bleeding. Gorak pushed against the portal, and it opened easily enough. On the other side lay an octagonal room with an oval pool of what looked like softly rippling blood in its center, filling the air with a metallic tang. Four round pillars supported a ceiling decorated with crisscrossed supports and grooves, while ten small circular holes decorated the walls at chest level. As Gorak started to enter the room, Arioch stopped him. 
“Wait,” the summoner said. “Blood-filled pools in ancient temples make me just a touch nervous. Let’s have a closer look first.”
The barbarian grunted as Arioch cast a simple cantrip.
“Just as I thought,” he said. “There’s magic all over the place. Minion! I summon you!”
The diminutive eidolon appeared in a puff of acrid smoke. 
“I hear and obey,” he sighed.
Arioch nodded to the chamber. “Have a look around, would you?”
Minion shrugged. “I have a choice?”
He turned and peered cautiously into the room, then took a few tentative steps inside. Suddenly, a loud clang sounded from behind him. Minion whirled as a sheet of bronze began to descend over the doorway. At the same time, one of the grooves in the ceiling slid open, revealing a very large, razor-edged pendulum. The eidolon looked around frantically, and then he saw the tiny stud on the side of one of the pillars. He dove desperately towards it and pushed it. With a sigh of relief, he watched the groove reseal itself and the bronze plate retract.
“I think it’s safe now,” he announced.
“You had me worried there for a minute,” Arioch smiled.
“Have I ever let you down?” the eidolon asked.
He didn’t see what was emerging from one of the small holes behind him. He never saw the gelatinous glob ooze out of it and flop to the floor, looking like some giant amoeba sporting hundreds of toothed mouths. He never saw it because as soon as Arioch did, he dismissed his servant back to his pocket dimension.

Arioch cleared the doorway as sure as he was certain that Minion was safely away. Gorak stepped up, Agnar’s skeletal henchman right behind him. Abruptly, the creature began gibbering in an ear-splitting cacophony that set listeners’ teeth on edge. Gorak paused, his eyes glazed over. Lyrissa and Jack, who were preparing to follow after him, halted as well, their jaws going slack. Only the degenerate serpent skeleton kept going, but as it drew near to the gibbering mouther, a large pseudopod exuded from its main mass and delivered a crushing blow to the undead, smashing it to pieces. A moment later, one of the abomination’s mouths spat a large glob of mucous at Gorak, hitting the barbarian directly in the eyes. That broke his stupor, and he roared in pain, rushing forward with his sword swinging wildly before him. Meanwhile, Lyrissa began to sob uncontrollably, sinking to her knees, her head in her hands as the maddening noise filled her brain. Beside her, Jack calmly drew his saber and sliced it across his own arm.
“Has everyone gone insane?” Jask gasped as he knocked the rogue’s blade aside and used his healing powers to staunch the flow of blood.
Gorak landed a lucky blow against the amorphous blob, but as he did so, six of the creature’s mouths extended towards him, and latched onto him at various points, holding him immobile. Then, to the horror of those looking on, the gibbering horror flowed completely over the barbarian, engulfing him within its mass.
“Stand aside!” Nessalin shouted as he shoved past Jask.
The magus drew a javelin from his pack, which sizzled with crackling electricity. Cocking his arm back, he hurled it, and as the weapon left his hand, it formed a bolt of lightning that arced into the monstrous ooze. The thing shivered like jelly as the electricity coursed over its surface, and a moment later, it exploded completely when Gorak tore his way free using only his teeth and a pair of short horns that had sprouted from his sloped brow.
___________________________________________________________

Jack’s and Lyrissa’s confusion gradually wore off with the destruction of the gibbering mouther, though Agnar’s disappointment at the loss of yet another undead minion took longer to pass. Once everyone had regained their composure, Gorak snorted through his flared nostrils and pulled open the door on the far side of the chamber. Judging from the décor of the cathedral-like chamber on the other side, the area must have once been a significant temple dedicated to some vile god. On one side, a few steps led up to a shrine presided over by a large statue of a beautiful, fanged woman, save that instead of arms, it possessed two upraised bat-like wings, and instead of feet its legs ended in talons. It loomed over a glistening altar of blood-red stone that seemed to weep blood into a trough below; this trough of blood ran the length of the room before disappearing on the opposite side of the chamber through a set of bronze bars in front of a wide opening in the wall that dropped away into darkness. Stone pillars supported the roof high above, and two dry fountains sat opposite each other against the wall in the middle of the room. Three large alcoves, one on the far wall and two on the near, contained wall carvings. The entire chamber felt unnaturally cold, and every so often strange, disembodied whispers slithered through the air. Standing before the altar was a serpent-headed creature clad in Varisian garb…Ieana’s clothes. On the floor below were arrayed four humanoid skeletons, each clutching a rusting sword. 

“So you are here,” the creature stated matter-of-factly. “I suppose it was too much to hope that you would simply leave me in peace once you had discovered the light house.”
“Who, or what are you?” Arioch asked. “Where is Ieana?”
“Simpletons,” the creature shook its head. “I thought you would have at least puzzled out that one mystery. I am the one you knew as Ieana, though the real Varisian ‘scholar,’ and I use that term loosely, who bore that name died by my hand months ago. My true name is Yarzoth, and it was I who engineered the shipwreck that brought you here, although you must believe it was never my intent to leave you stranded. I had actually hoped that all of you would die at sea.”
“I don’t understand,” Jack said in confusion. “What was the point of all this? Why did you come here?”
“I hardly expect your primitive minds to understand,” Yarzoth hissed. “I am on the cusp of making a great discovery, one that your fragile race has not been able to solve since the sky fell so long ago. Now, I will grant you one mercy: leave me to my work, and you may go your own way in peace.”
“The only thing I need to understand, snake lady,” Zavasta growled, “is whether or not you’re flammable!”

Arioch saw the direction the situation was headed, and quickly began a summoning. Two short, squat stone-like creatures flowed up out of the floor in the midst of the skeletons. One of them swung a clubbed fist into the ribs of the nearest corpse, and it shattered like a pane of glass. Jack saw an opening and ran headlong towards the melee. He leaped across the trough of blood, tumbled through the scuffling skeletons and elementals, and rolled to his feet right next to Yarzoth…only to find her striking as quickly as the serpent she resembled. He felt her fangs sink into his neck, and immediately  a profound weakness flowed through his body. He stumbled backwards, lost his footing on the slick stones, and fell prone at the serpent woman’s feet. She loomed over him, preparing to strike again, but at that moment the twin elementals broke free of the skeletons as Lyrissa attacked the undead from behind, and at Arioch’s command, they charged the altar. Yarzoth saw them coming at the last instant, and hastily cast a spell. Instantly, several identical copies of her appeared out of thin air and began to revolve around her, making it impossible to tell where she really was. The elementals swung blindly, and as their fists connected with the illusory images, they began to wink out. Yarzoth called her remaining skeletons to her, but one of the elementals spun and obliterated another one as it closed. Behind the skeletons came Gorak, Nessalin and Lyrissa. Yarzoth raised her hands above her, and suddenly a shockwave of sound burst from her, rolling over the elementals and the oncoming castaways. Nessalin was hurled from his feet and sent tumbling to the floor. Gorak and Lyrissa, however, kept coming. The bardess smashed aside another skeleton as one of the elementals destroyed the final one.  At the same time, the last of Yarzoth’s mirror images vanished, leaving her vulnerable. Lyrissa lunged at her, slashing at the priestess with her blade as the elementals struck from both sides. Yarzoth fell back, obviously in pain. Her hand went to an amulet of a headless figure that hung around her neck, and as she touched it, black energy washed over her attackers, sending the cold of the grave coursing through their bodies. Suddenly, still laying weak on the ground, Jack stabbed up with his rapier, driving fully half of its length into Yarzoth’s belly. Stumbling, she plunged her hand into the blood on the altar, and then touched the demonic statue. In a flash, her body turned to mist and began flowing up towards a hole in the ceiling. Gorak, his eyes bloodshot with rage, hacked at her with all of his strength, and as his sword passed through her, her body simply dissipated, and her hollow scream slowly faded away to nothing.


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## carborundum (Aug 22, 2011)

Wow - that was excellent!
Just caught up with the last few instalments after a couple of weeks holiday. Those Gibbering Mouthers sure are annoying 

Great stuff, JD - thanks for the updates!


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## JollyDoc (Aug 23, 2011)

carborundum said:


> Wow - that was excellent!
> Just caught up with the last few instalments after a couple of weeks holiday. Those Gibbering Mouthers sure are annoying
> 
> Great stuff, JD - thanks for the updates!




Thank you, Sir. I'm running about two posts behind actual game time, but I actually like it that way. Things that happen now can affect outcomes further down the road, so it allows me to tweak the story a bit. In the next post, the castaways will get rescued, and we'll find out what civilization has in store for everyone.


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## JollyDoc (Aug 28, 2011)

*Rescue*

“Now where do you suppose she was going?” Agnar said as he looked towards the ceiling.
“There’s a hole up there,” Jack said, “but it’s too small for anything to fit through.”
“Unless they were made of vapor,” Arioch mused.
Agnar looked at the bloody handprint Yarzoth had left on the statue of the bat-demon.
“I wonder…,” he said, tapping his chin.
The priest then dipped his hand in the blood smeared on the altar, and placed it next to Yarzoth’s print. Instantly, his body turned to mist. He smiled broadly at his dumbstruck companions, and then began floating up towards the ceiling.
“Not so fast!” Zavasta snapped as he plunged his own hand into the blood. “You’re not going without me!”
The alchemist touched the statue, and joined Agnar on his misty flight. Together, the two of them vanished through the hole.

The pair found themselves in an x-shaped room with a low ceiling and walls dense with ancient carvings and bas-reliefs of the same bat-winged demonic woman below, including a particularly large one on one wall whose lips were smeared with dried blood. A number of supplies…food, discarded clothes, a few waterskins, and a well-used bedroll…lay in the center of the room. Agnar recognized the clothing as having belonged to Ieana/Yarzoth, and the supplies as having come from the Jenivere. It appeared that the serpent-woman had been using the hidden chamber as a safe room. Judging by the blood on the bas relief, the same magic that could render her gaseous was present upon it as well, allowing her to come and go as she pleased. Satisfied that the priestess had not hidden anything of value in the room, Agnar and Zavasta returned to their friends below.
_________________________________________________________

It became slowly more apparent that what Yarzoth had been looking for in the ancient temple was hidden in the complex prayers and parables that had been carved into the walls in the large alcoves of the cathedral. They were inscribed in the dead language of the Azlanti, but among Yarzoth’s belongings were reams of parchment with translations of the inscriptions. The histories began with a cult devoted to a vampiric demon called Zura. Apparently, this cult had been exiled from their home city of Saventh-Yi, an Azlanti metropolis located somewhere in central Garund, for their vile beliefs. The cult had been forced to make a dangerous overland journey that ended on the shores of a remote island far from their homeland. During their exploration of this island, which obviously was Smuggler’s Shiv, the cult had discovered and defeated a large group of serpentfolk who had built the temple to worship their “headless god,” Ydersius. The cultists had created and enslaved many undead from their defeated foes, and then set about making plans to earn the “gift” of vampirism from Zura so that they might one day return to Saventh-Yi and pass on their “gift” to their hated countrymen. 

“Saventh-Yi?” Lyrissa asked. “I’ve heard of that!”
“Really?” Arioch asked. “What is it?”
“What WAS it, you mean,” the bardess said. “It’s really only a legend, perhaps a myth. It is one of the so-called lost cities of Garund. The tales say that it was built by the Azlanti, and historians have argued about the authenticity of its existence for centuries. If it really did exist, and these writings can provide some clue to its location, then…,” 
“Then what?” the summoner prodded.
“Then that information would be worth a fortune,” Lyrissa finished.
The castaways looked at one another, understanding dawning upon them all. Perhaps the circumstances and events leading to their being marooned on the gods-forsaken island would have a silver lining after all…
__________________________________________________________

Several days later, the group rejoined their fellow survivors at the Thrunefang encampment. The others were amazed to hear of what had been discovered at the ancient temple, especially the news of the possible existence of Saventh-Yi. Arioch then announced that they would be firing up the lighthouse immediately in hopes of signaling a passing ship.
“What?” Gelik asked, his mouth agape. “What about me?”
“What about you?” Zavasta snapped. “You can come with us. Who’s stopping you?”
“What about the ship all of you said you’d help me find?” the gnome sputtered. “What about the Night Voice?”
“As I recall,” Agnar replied, “we said that if we discovered the wreck, which was unlikely to begin with, then we would assist you in searching it for the documentation you needed. We’ve been all over this island, and haven’t found it. Face it. It’s not here.”
“That can’t be!” Gelik shouted. “It has to be here! We have to keep searching!”
“No,” Arioch said simply. “What we have to do is get off this rock. I, for one, am not planning on staying one moment longer than I have to. If you choose otherwise, we can always send another ship back for you. It’s your choice.”
Gelik just glared at him, at all of them in turn. His face burned as he turned away and stormed off.
____________________________________________________________

INTERLUDE

"Jack, I think I know what you were trying to do the other night,” Arioch said. The two stood atop the lighthouse, staring out into the darkness of the sea. “You were looking ahead to the point when we get off of this island and back to civilization. I will be honest, Jack...for a time I was not terribly impressed by you and believed that you were going to be running headfirst into the maw of Death. You're brash, impatient, and impetuous...but for some reason Fate seems to be smiling upon you for the time being.  When you dove into the brine to fight a shark on its terms, and to save that damned necromancer no less, you showed me that you aren't all talk. So if you are looking to put together a team, or a ‘crew’ as you’ve put it, once we out of here, then, to use your terms, I've 'got your back'. Now...as to the others:

Gorak has a skill-at-arms that any good team needs, and he seems to comport himself with a sort of primitive, barbaric sense of honor. We need him, if for no other reason than I would hate to see him turn his fury against us. 

Nessalin is an interesting subject. For these several weeks, he has been nothing more than a simple crewman aboard a third-rate sea vessel...now we see that he controls some fairly potent magics. There is more to him than meets the eye, and I wouldn't mind being there when the secret is revealed. 

I am very uncertain about Zavasta. His skill with alchemy and his bomb-throwing has been useful at times, but he seems to carry some ill-informed grudge against me and my Order, and he listens to no reason or plain evidence to the contrary, such as the fact that I was not sacrificed on some dark altar and I, to, am an arcanist of orcish blood. Perhaps his mindset will change towards me with time and experience, but I am not convinced that I want to be traveling with him in the future, and if I do it will be at arm’s-length. 

Lyrissa thus far seems to have her place, and her abilities are useful, but she keeps to herself too much for me to get a good read on her and her motivations. 

Now Agnar...frankly to this point I have had no use for him. He seems to bring little but trouble, and his dark powers sow nothing short of dissension in the ranks and have not been put to any use that I would judge beneficial. Simply put, I am going to have to be convinced that we should not simply part ways with him once we get off this damned rock, whether it is by someone else's words or his actions. 

The other wreck survivors would seem to already have plans once we escape this place, but they may have their uses in the future as contacts.

As to your belief that we need a leader, I would agree, but I will also withdraw my name from any consideration. For one, while I enjoy controlling a given battlefield like any good dragonchess player moving pieces into position, I am not the big-picture strategist required for that position. Secondly, I am interested in staying incognito and out of the range of vision of my Order for a while, and positioning myself as a figurehead leader of an adventuring company is not the best way to maintain that. What are your thoughts?"


"I'm glad you have come to me about this," Jack replied.
He reached out and shook Arioch’s hand as he leaned in and spoke in a low whisper.
 "Look, between us, I don't really care if we have a "leader" or not. However, there are a few reasons I feel the crew needs some sort of leadership. Honestly, most important to me is that I want some way of making sure that I don't wake up with a knife in my back over a few shiny coins or coconuts or whatever we find on this island. Hells, we have already seen encampments of others who have been stranded, with a lighthouse no less, and it has done them no good. Why die over a coconut? If we do get off this island, I would like a group of people that we could use to gain wealth and power. We have made more coins on this island than I made in a year working as a messenger for the Council. We have shown that under duress we can work together and that,, in my eyes is the making of a decent crew. IF, and that is a big IF, we get off this rock then we could become rich and powerful beyond our wildest dreams as long as fate continues to smile on us. We need some level of trust in our group, because if we are always looking out for our own blades, then we will not be able to take the heads of those that stand against us on this island and beyond. I agree with most of your thoughts on the rest of the crew with a few exceptions:

Gorak, I feel, will follow whatever group will lead him off this island, and I hope we will be able to keep him with us. That blade of his is too important in a fighting situation. He does need to learn to swim, however.
Nessalin seems to be all about himself, and I think he will be one of the more difficult members to convince to go with us. I to am curious about his magical background, since I never once saw him toss a spell while on the ship for all those months. There seems to more to him than he is showing.
Zavasta I like. His bombs tend to have a mind of their own, but I think if he can get some time he will be able to provide very usual alchemical potions. Keep an open mind about him and remember time heals all wounds.
Lyrissa I also like at the moment. You are not the only one who is unsure of what motivates her. But I would like her on my side in a battle.
Agnar has not really done it for me either, even though I do not want to see him perish just yet. So far he has ‘controlled’ some of these undead that have tried to attack us. I am just not comfortable with him keeping these grotesque creatures in tow. As long as we keep finding these abominations on the island I say he is useful. However, after that I think that living sailors are smelly enough. I wouldn’t want those things kept in close confines on a ship. Plagues start that way.
As for myself, why not? As for you Arioch, I think you underestimate your ability to think long-term. By just starting this conversation you are assuming we make it off this island. It seems you already have plans to grow your powers and to find and kill this mark that you failed to take out the first time. And that to me is long term thinking. I for one can completely understand hiding in the shadow for an opportunity to surprise you next target. Thank you again, my friend, for starting this conversation and helping form this crew for the future.  I am assuming I can call you that now?”

“Let's just say that you and a couple of the others are the closest thing that I have to friends,” the summoner replied, “outside of Minion, of course. I think at this point we should speak privately to some of the others, and see if we can't firm up some alliances here. We may be on this island for an extended period, and if we can form a close cadre of willing blades, I think that we might be able to keep some of the wild cards in check. I will speak to Nessalin and feel him out...his interests in the arcane mirror mine and I can use that common ground to initiate discussion. Following that, I will try to make sure that Jask if firmly with us...I already have some sway with both Aerys and Ishirou, so I will speak with them as well. It might be good for you to find an opportunity to sway Gorak to our side...you and he share the front lines frequently, and I think that your personality will be suited better to bring him over to our way of thinking. No pressure, but Gorak is the key. I have seen you in quiet discussion with Sasha as well...perhaps you could work on her to. If we can establish that core group...no mean feat I am sure...we should be able to somewhat keep the others under control, at least until we get back to civilization...IF we get back to civilization."
____________________________________________________________

As it turned out, it was only a matter of days before a passing ship did see the light from the north shore of Smuggler’s Shiv. It was the Red Gull, captained by one Aulek Tegerten. Needless to say, he and his crew were shocked to find anyone actually alive on the island, and though they were willing to take the castaways aboard, they were not willing to lay off shore of the Shiv for a moment longer than necessary. The Red Gull was bound for Eleder. The survivors of the Jenivere were finally on their way home.

“So that’s our plan,” Arioch announced. “Who’s in?”
The castaways were seated in the ship’s galley on their second night off the Shiv, and the summoner had just outlined his idea for how to cash in on the information they’d discovered about Saventh-Yi: by looking for it themselves.
“Huh,” Ishirou grunted. “Not sure. I finally free of Consortium after many years. Might want time to see how freedom taste.”
“Yeah, and I’ve still got some ‘Red Mantis’ issues to clear up before I end up dead in an alley,” Sasha added.
“Not to mention the outstanding warrant for my arrest,” Jask said.
“Yeah, and I still have to find some way to get back into the good graces of the Pathfinders,” Gelik said bitterly.
“As stupid as this sounds, seeing as how we just got off an island,” Aerys said, “I feel like I’ve been away from the sea too long. The only thing I want to do is find the first ship out of Eleder.”
“Well,” Arioch shrugged, “if that’s all of your decisions, then so be it. Who knows? This is probably all going to be a wild goose chase anyway.”
_________________________________________________________

Sargava’s capital was a city of contrasts. Though second in size to Kalabuto, Eleder remained a stronghold for the nation’s political structure. This was due in large part to two facts: first, the city’s harbor was one of the biggest along the southeastern coast of Garund, allowing it to handle the deep drafts of massive merchant vessels and similar ships too large to travel up the Korir River; and second, Eleder had an enormous workforce to draw on in the form of the large Mwangi population that, though they outnumbered the Chelaxian colonials by nearly two to one, remained an impoverished underclass. “Chelaxian,” was actually a misnomer. It had been many decades since the elite of Eleder had been a part of the empire of Cheliax, yet their descendents still clung to that ancestry like a security blanket. They still dressed in styles a hundred years out of date, and clung to outmoded customs that modern-day Chelaxians would have considered quaint at best. And they had no love for so-called “adventurers.” The nobility considered such low-lifes rabble-rousers, spreading their tales of glory and freedom, upsetting the status-quo, and causing the Mwangi to question their place. Welcome home indeed for the twelve castaways.

Captain Tegerten’s unexpected passengers disembarked and thanked their host before pausing to gather together one last time. The goodbyes were awkward and perfunctory. Hands were shaken and empty promises were made to see one another again. Then, just as they’d been unceremoniously thrown together, they went their separate ways. Agnar was the last to depart the docks. As he watched Jask disappear into the crowd, the priest grabbed a passing beggar by the arm. He whispered into the man’s ear, and then pressed a coin into his hand. The vagrant nodded eagerly and vanished like a flash into the throngs.
____________________________________________________________

Arioch, Jack and Nessalin found lodging at the Sargava Club, a two-story mud-brick building covered in plain whitewash that was set back from the Portside docks in a narrow alley facing the harbor. The bottom floor was split between a shop and a tavern, while the top floor served as an inn. The proprietor was a feisty, outspoken half-orc named Briga. She and Arioch hit if off immediately. In the days following their arrival in port, the trio frequented the Colonial Archives, researching the information laid out in Yarzoth’s notes, and trying to authenticate the information. What they found served to convince them completely that the serpentfolk priestess had been onto something. It seemed that the Zura cult could not simply return to Saventh-Yi once they’d left, for the city was hidden behind powerful magical wards. Instead, they had planned to journey to a smaller outpost called Tazion, wherein they hoped to used something called “the pillars of light” to finally make their way back home. Frustratingly, the notes did not reveal the location of Saventh-Yi itself, but with the aid of one of the librarians, the trio was able to place Tazion in the southernmost reaches of the Mwangi Jungle, north of the Bandu Hills, between the Upper Korir and Ocota Rivers.  

Lyrissa found different diversions for herself in the city. With Gorak following her around like a loyal puppy, she visited some of the more upscale entertainment establishments in Eleder, looking for work. Ultimately, she found steady income dancing for the patrons of the Adventurer’s Club, an ironically named gathering place for the city’s more influential aristocrats. They considered the pretty half-orc bardess something of a curiosity, and word of her talent spread quickly. Before long, she was playing to packed houses three nights a week. Gorak waited in the wings, serving as her self-appointed body guard.

That left Agnar and Zavasta. The alchemist set up shop in a stall located in the barter markets of Lower Harbor, hocking potions and minor pyrotechnics at bargain prices. The business allowed him the freedom to ply his trade, and still earn coin enough to pursue his own private experimentations. As for the dark priest, he bided his time. He made several contacts among some of Eleder’s less savory elements, putting out feelers and cautious inquiries. He began to feel the city’s pulse, and felt that, given time, he might grow to like the cesspool. 

_____________________________________________________________

“There’s someone here asking for you,” Briga said as she stood over the table Arioch shared with Jack and Nessalin. “Over by the door.”
She jerked her head towards the entrance. The summoner glanced over her shoulder and saw Aerys standing near the bar, her tricorn perched jauntily on her head.
“It’s ok,” Arioch told the proprietress. “Send her over.”
Aerys nodded in greeting as she pulled a chair out from under the table, turned it backwards and straddled it.
“Thought you’d be back at sea by now,” Nessalin said.
“I did to,” she shrugged, “but something’s come up. Something that involves you all as well.”
“We’re all ears,” Arioch said.
“As you may recall,” Aerys began, “I was originally bound for Eleder aboard the Jenivere to meet with one of the captain’s of the Shackles. Well, I kept that appointment when we finally reached port, but I had some explaining to do about my tardiness. As it turns out, my captain was sympathetic…especially when he learned about what we discovered in that old temple on the Shiv.”
“What ‘we’ discovered?” Arioch raised one eyebrow.
“Semantics,” Aerys replied. “Anyway, it seems that my captain is now putting together an expedition to find Saventh-Yi, and he’d like to have you and the rest of the crew along.”
Arioch stared at her, unblinking.
“And just what makes you think we would be interested in sharing our discovery with anyone?” he finally asked. “In fact, I should kill you where you sit for not keeping your mouth shut.”
“You didn’t really think you could keep something like this a secret, did you?” Aerys asked. “This might be the greatest discovery in an age! The way I hear it, I’m not the only one that’s been telling tales either. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from more of our fellow castaways before long. As far as the reason you should consider my proposal, it’s this: my captain is very well connected and funded. He is willing to outfit and organize the expedition, paying all costs involving food, water, supplies, porters, guards, et cetera. He also offers each of you a signing bonus of 500 gold crowns in advance. When and if we find the city, he offers and additional thousand. Finally, since we are old friends now, the captain also offers each of you an additional 500 coins, or command of a small crew of able-bodied buccaneers to aid you in the journey. Your choice.”
Arioch paused again, then glanced at each of his compatriots.
“I suppose you haven’t left us much choice, have you?” he said to Aerys. “Tell your captain we’ll consider his proposal. You said we might have other offers. Who knows? They might be more lucrative.”
“I understand,” Aerys said as she rose from her chair. “Here’s one more thing to take into consideration: Jack… my captain? He only has one eye…”
___________________________________________________________

Aerys had been right. As the day progressed, the three companions entertained a series of guests at their corner table. Ishirou, though his debt to the Aspis Consortium had finally been paid off, had been returned  to active service when they’d learned about Saventh-Yi. Gelik, despite not having been able to discover the fate of the Night Voice, found that the Pathfinders were quite eager to reinstate him in good standing if his information about Saventh-Yi proved true. Jask had managed to clear his name with the Sargavan government, and when the Baron heard the details of his shipwreck and rescue, he went one step further: he offered the priest a prestigious position within the city council…provided that Jask would be willing to join an expedition to Saventh-Yi first. Sasha Nevah was the last to pay a social call. It seemed that the Red Mantis was more than willing take her back into their fold when they found out what she’d discovered. It seemed also that their ancient texts hinted at the existence of a temple to their demonic god Achaekek within the legendary city. 

Each of their former castaway companions offered a similar to arrangement to that proposed by Aerys, but each faction also offered its own unique advantage. One thing was universally clear, however. With or without them, the five factions were going to seek out Saventh-Yi one way or another. If Arioch and his companions wanted to be able to claim any part of the legendary city’s storied wealth, they would have to choose a side.
“Well boys,” the summoner said to Jack and Nessalin once Sasha had departed, “it looks like it’s time to get that crew together that we talked about.”
___________________________________________________________

“So here we are again,” Arioch said to those assembled, “and this is our dilemma. We now have a very important choice to make.”
“I choose to set this whole gods-damn town on fire!” Zavasta snarled as he pounded his fist on the table. 
“We risked our lives finding that snake-headed bitch, and our reward was the secret she was looking for. Why should we have to share it with anyone??”
“Because we really don’t have many other options,” Nessalin answered. “Each of the factions organizing an expedition are very wealthy, and very powerful. We can’t hope to compete against them, and if we don’t go along, then this valuable secret we discovered is going to be worth exactly nothing to us. Once we’ve found Saventh-Yi, if it even exists, then we can decide what our next move will be. Until then, we need to weigh the pros and cons of each offer.”
“Which are as follows,” Arioch joined in. “The Aspis Consortium is an open book. They want what they always want: profit. I must say, I admire the eloquence of their simplicity. The Free Captain’s motive is more personal: he wants to make a name for himself to improve his standing among the Pirate Lords. I don’t see him sharing that glory to any great extent.”
Jack glowered at this.
“The Pathfinders,” Arioch continued, a tone of mockery in his voice, “do-gooders as always. They’ll want to take whatever we find there and preserve it for historical posterity. Bah! The Red Mantis can be ruled out immediately. Once they’ve gotten what they want, they’ll eliminate us. Then there’s the Sargavans. They want to extend their influence and hope that by claiming Saventh-Yi’s treasures they can finally free themselves from the Free Captains. Again, not likely to be exactly equitable in their dealings with us.”

The issue was discussed and discussed again for hours. The Pathfinders and the Red Mantis were eliminated out of hand. Jack argued vehemently in favor of the Free Captains, but Arioch’s contention was that the rogue’s personal feelings were clouding his judgment. Ultimately, it was a majority decision that the Aspis Consortium was the least of all evils, and Arioch volunteered to notify Ishirou the next morning. Jack stormed out of the room without a word.
_________________________________________________________

“So that’s where it stands,” Jack said.
He and Aerys Mavato stood in the shadows of a secluded alley.
“Your father will be disappointed,” the half-elf said. 
“Tell him I’m sorry,” Jack bowed his head. “I promise you, though. I’ll do what I can to help you. I’ll leave signs along the way. Look for them. Besmara willing, we’ll meet again in Saventh-Yi.”


----------



## JollyDoc (Sep 5, 2011)

*Uprising*

Once the former castaways, who had, at Arioch’s suggestion, taken to calling themselves the Glorious Bastards, informed Ishirou of their decision to join the Aspis Consortium, they had been immediately contacted by Dargan Etters, the expedition’s leader. He was charismatic, but made it clear that the undertaking to find Saventh-Yi was purely a business venture, and he was going to insure its success no matter the cost. The expedition was going to be ready to depart Eleder within the week, and all of the preparations were being made in a warehouse in the New Haliad district. The following day, as the group was making its way towards the warehouse to oversee the proceedings, they were startled to hear screams and shouts coming from about a block away. Moments later, a panicked mob came tearing around the corner and down the street, fearfully pushing past the companions.
“Run!” one terrified citizen shouted as he past.
“What’s happening?” Jack asked.
“It’s the Freemen!” the man shouted. “They’ve let loose rabid dogs in the streets! Run!”

A pack of half-a-dozen slavering curs came bounding and howling behind the fleeing crowd, taking down one unfortunate fat man and tearing his throat out before bounding forward. The Bastards stood their ground, and as the first dog leaped for Gorak, the big barbarian cut it cleanly in half with a slash of his massive sword. Agnar, standing a few paces back, growled a prayer to his dark god, and a small, concentrated thunderclap sent the pack flying, leaving several sprawled, stunned on the ground. Nessalin picked off one still on its feet by channeling an acidic cantrip through his scimitar. Zavasta cleaned up the remaining mongrels by lobbing an unsubtle bomb into their midst, setting them all ablaze, and ending their lives in agony.

“Who are these Freeman that man mentioned?” Nessalin asked.
“Freed slaves,” Agnar replied. “I’ve heard about them in my dealings with the locals. They try to stir up the Mwangi against foreigners, merchants and others they believe stand behind the slave trade. Ingrates! They should be thankful for their own freedom, and leave well-enough alone.”
“Do you smell that?” Jack asked abruptly. “Smoke.”
“There,” Gorak grunted, pointing towards a greasy, black column rising several blocks away.
“Isn’t that near our warehouse?” Lyrissa asked.
“Hells!” Arioch snapped. “Come on!”
__________________________________________________________

When the Bastards reached the row of warehouses, they saw that indeed it was theirs that was already in flames. Two hooded Mwangi men stood nearby with lit torches in their hands. When they saw the companions, they shouted in their native tongues and dropped their torches as they pulled shortbows from their backs. Gorak growled low in his throat, horns sprouting from his brow as he started forward. The two Freemen loosed arrows, and both took the barbarian in his left thigh. Gorak snarled, but kept going, dragging his injured leg behind him. As he closed, the Freemen dropped their bows and pulled cudgels from their belts. They circled the half-orc warily, and then both darted forward, clubbing the barbarian once in the head, and once across his shoulders. Gorak howled like a feral animal, and electricity crackled around his horns. Lowering his head, he charged one of the thugs, tossing the man several feet back, sparks spitting from the man’s wounds. The second man struck Gorak again, but the barbarian shrugged off the blow, stalking forward to finish off his victim. As the wounded Freeman started to rise, Gorak impaled him to the ground with his sword. He then whirled towards his second assailant, only to find Nessalin already there. The magus slashed with his scimitar, and electricity surged through it as it struck, electrocuting the thug as it simultaneously opened his belly. 

Arioch quickly opened a summoning circle, and an elemental formed of water erupted from it. At the summoner’s direction, the creature leaped for the roof of the warehouse, extinguishing the flames before they could do further damage. As he watched the creature work, a warehouse worker rushed up to Arioch.
“Sir!” he shouted, gasping for air. “It was the Freeman!”
“We know,” the summoner said tersely. 
“Yes, but they’ve taken the Tian man!”
“Ishirou?” Arioch snapped. “How? Where?”
“The Freeman have taken over the South Arcadian Whaling Company!” the worker said. “Their leader, a man named Umagro, is calling for the slaughter of all foreigners, and the overthrow of the government! That’s where they took your friend!”
Arioch turned angrily to his companions.
“The elemental can finish up here,” he said. “We’ve got some insurgents to kill.”
__________________________________________________________

The South Arcadian Whaling Company was easily located at the end of Whalebone Lane by the pungent stench that surrounded it. It was a large complex of whitewashed stone and brick, walled on all sides, including the beachfront. When the Bastards arrived, a large crowd had already gathered outside the complex, staring up at the roof of the main building. Thirty feet above, a man stood on the rooftop. He was Mwangi, and his face was decorated with fierce tribal war paint. He held another man, barely conscious, in front of him, a wicked-looking kukri at the second man’s throat. Arioch could tell immediately that the hostage was Ishirou.
“Fight back!” the Freeman exhorted the crowd below. “Take back your freedom from the colonial oppressors! They have brought the foreigners here to make slaves of us all! We will kill them first, starting with this one!”
The spectators, mostly Mwangi workers, but with a handful of Sargavans among them, murmured a mixture of approval and dismay.
“We’ve got to work quickly,” Arioch said quietly to his companions. “Jack, you stay with me. The rest of you try to find another way into this place. Be unobtrusive. I don’t want this crowd to turn into a rioting mob.”
“If they do, then they’ll burn with the rest of them!” Zavasta snarled.
“I would prefer that be our last resort,” Arioch replied. “Now go!”

As the group split up, Arioch and Jack made their way around the seaward wall of the compound, out of the direct view of most of the crowd. There, the summoner opened a small circle, admitting a crackling elemental composed of pure lightning into the material world. As Jack watched in amazement, Arioch spoke to the elemental in its own unintelligible tongue. The creature pulsed once, then ascended towards the rooftop as Arioch began another summoning.

Gorak led the others around the front of the complex, where they found a single door leading into what was probably an office for the company. Unfortunately, the door was locked. That didn’t deter the big barbarian. Lowering his shoulder, Gorak smashed into the door, knocking it from its hinges. Two Mwangi Freeman stood startled on the other side, but as the half-orc rushed in, they quickly regained their composure and drew clubs from their belts. To their credit, they held their ground in the face of the hulking barbarian, pummeling him repeatedly as he tried to bring his greatsword to bear in the cramped office space. 
“Fire in the hole!” Gorak heard Zavasta shout, and he instinctively flattened against a wall.
A moment later, a hissing bomb landed between the Freeman and exploded, showering them both with liquid fire. 

Arioch’s elemental rose silently above the edge of the roof behind Umagro. The Freeman leader was still preaching to his audience when he heard a sudden rush of air and smelled ozone. As he began to turn, the elemental bowled into him, knocking Ishirou from his grasp. The semi-conscious rogue stumbled two paces, and them toppled over the edge, plummeting towards the ground below. The crowd gasped, but at the last instant before Ishirou smashed into the paving stones, he abruptly began to float slowly the last few feet. He settled softly to the ground, but before he lost consciousness completely, his blurry vision found Arioch standing behind the onlookers.

Back on the rooftop, Umagro was enraged. He roared inarticulately, his teeth elongating into fangs. As the elemental spun back towards him, the Freeman leaped at it like a savage beast, hacking and slashing with his kukris, while biting and tearing with his teeth. Within seconds, the elemental winked out of existence, banished back to its home plane. Umagro raised his face towards the sky and howled his fury. He never saw the second elemental, this one made of air, rise quietly to the roof behind him and deposit Jack gently upon the shingles. Jack swallowed once, his pulse pounding as he watched the murderous Freeman, waiting for just the right moment. As Umagro began to turn towards him, the rogue realized it was then or never. Shouting his own battle-cry, Jack rushed across the roof, closing the distance to Umagro. He hit the big man at a full charge, and to his own amazement, managed to take Umagro off his feet and send him tumbling over the edge of the roof towards the courtyard of the compound.
“I did it!” Jack crowed. “I really did it!”
Suddenly, a whistling hiss split the air, and the rogue felt a searing pain in his leg. He looked down and saw an arrow protruding from his thigh. When he looked up again, he saw on the roof of another building across the compound a Freeman sniper. The man was even then knocking another arrow. Jack threw himself flat, and quickly scuttled back behind the peak of the roof. He spotted a hatch several feet away, and he crawled over to it, and lifted it slowly and quietly. He found himself looking down into the interior of a large building with one side, the one facing the courtyard, completely open. At the front of the area, huge winches hung from the ceiling, rigged to oversized wooden blocks dangling hooks and straps. Toward the back, directly below him, a metal and wood grid bisected the building, acting as a second floor. Atop the grid, a series of long, trough-shaped vats lined the back wall. Below the grid stood three tremendous cast-iron boilers. A ladder led down to the grid from the trap door, and standing at the bottom of it were three more Freeman. Jack cursed softly to himself, and eased the trap door closed again.

As the two thugs in the office struggled to extinguish the flames that clung to their cloaks, Gorak finally managed to skewer one of them with his massive sword. Behind him, Nessalin darted into the room and quickly finished off the other. The pair then opened another door on the far side of the office, and found themselves in the courtyard. To their amazement, Umagro was already there, hauling himself to his feet, bruised and bloodied, but still with nothing but feral fury in his eyes. Above them, they saw the miniature whirlwind of Arioch’s air elemental streak across the yard towards another building on the far side. Once there, it bowled into a Mwangi bowman, sending the man screaming off the roof to his death on the rocky beach below. Gorak barely noticed. He lowered his head, snorting, as horns grew from his brow. With a snarl, he charged across the courtyard towards Umagro. He hit the Freeman full on, but Umagro was ready this time. He took the blow, but held his ground and threw the big half-orc back. His kukri flashing, he rushed the barbarian, forcing him backwards into the flensing house.

The broad, cobbled courtyard was surrounded by buildings. On the side facing the beach, a wide ramp led down to the shore through a gated arch. Wedged into the passage lay the bloody carcass of a tremendous whale. The carcass was bound with thick cables that led to a crank hoist at the top of the ramp. The entire complex reeked of burnt fat and slaughter. When Agnar entered the courtyard from the office, he smiled.
“Ah, this smells like home!” he sighed. 
He looked longingly at the massive corpse of the whale.
“If only…,” he shook his head. “Still, all is not lost.”
He gestured towards the body of one of the dead Freeman.
“Rise!” he commanded.
The flesh dissolved from the man’s bones as his skeleton clambered to its feet. At that moment, another Freeman insurgent dashed into the courtyard from the far side. When he saw the animated corpse of his former companion, he was horrified. He was jarred out of his shock a moment later, however, when the skeleton slashed him with the same club it had wielded in life. The Freeman rocked back, but then gripped his own club more tightly and smashed it into the skeleton’s skull, which promptly shattered.
Agnar shrugged.
“Oh well,” he said. “I’m sure there will be more.”

As Umagro continued to drive Gorak deeper into the flensing house, Nessalin dashed across the courtyard to his friend’s aid. When he entered the building, however, the men on the scaffolding above suddenly upended a barrel of whale oil, drenching both Gorak and the magus. Just then, Zavasta entered the courtyard and saw the target-rich environment in the flensing house. He grinned evilly as he ignited one of his bomb and cocked his arm back to throw.
“No!!” Nessalin cried, but it was too late.
Zavasta let his bomb fly, and it scored a direct hit to Umagro. Unfortunately, the splash from the explosion set the spilled oil ablaze, and within moments, Umagro, Gorak, Nessalin, and the three Freeman above them all found  their clothing in flames.

Lyrissa wasn’t far behind Zavasta, and when she saw the chaos in the flensing house, she just shook her head in exasperation. Her attention was redirected quickly, however, as the Freeman still in the courtyard charged towards her and Agnar. The bardess shouted an ululating battle cry as she met the charge, her fervor inspiring her companions around her, filing them with renewed confidence. Lyrissa speared the Freeman on the point of her blade, and then spun away, disemboweling him in the process. 

Jack watched the mayhem below through the trapdoor and realized that if he was going to make his move, it had to be then. Taking a deep breath, he threw the door open and leaped through. He dropped thirty feet, directly to the ground level, only his natural athleticism preventing him from breaking any bones. Still, he landed hard on his back, forcing the breath out of him for a moment. His weapons were in his hands, however, and he was directly at Umagro’s feet. The Freeman leader was still preoccupied with putting himself out, so he never saw the attack coming. Jack thrust his rapier upwards, straight through Umagro’s back. The Freeman roared in pain and fury, but then Gorak hit him head-on, his horns lowered and driving into the big man’s belly. As Umagro fell backwards, Nessalin rushed in, his scimitar sizzling with electricity. The blow was telling and fatal. Umagro died with his clothes still on fire.

When the other Freeman saw their leader fall, their resolve faltered. They broke off the fight and fled the compound, disappearing into the crowd gathered outside. The Bastards were injured and fatigued, or else they wouldn’t have let their assailants escape with their lives. They tended their wounds as well as Ishirou’s. The older man was still alive, though only barely. He didn’t recall much of what had happened, only being ambushed at the warehouse. Among Umagro’s gear,however, Jack found a folded note. It was addressed to the Freeman leader, and insinuated that the Aspis Consortium was funding the expedition into the Mwangi interior in order to increase the slave trade in Sargava. There was no signature, just a symbol crudely drawn at the bottom…the Glyph of the Open Road. When Ishirou had recovered, he also found a small scrap of parchment hidden in his own pocket. On it was written a single sentence: “Who’s hungry now, bitches?”
“Gelik!” Agnar snarled.
_________________________________________________________

“So you think it was the Pathfinders?” Dargan Etters asked. “Well, that makes sense. I’m a little envious I didn’t think of the idea first. Still, a scrawled glyph isn’t enough evidence to go to the authorities with. It just means we need to speed up preparations and get things moving a little ahead of schedule. It also means that you need to grow eyes in the back of your heads. If the Pathfinders have balls enough to try something like this, then there’s no telling what the Red Mantis or the Free Captains might try. There’s one more thing you need to take care of before you set out. You’ll be needing a seasoned guide on the road. There’s a priest of Gozreh named Nkechi. The locals call him the Tempest. He’s supposed to be the most knowledgeable man in these parts about the dangers of the Mwangi Expanse, plus he’s known and respected among the indigenous. He’s something of a hermit. He lives in a cave a few miles north of here, in the cliffs called the Pallid Bluffs. I suggest you seek him out and see what it will take to secure his services. Barring that, then he needs to be eliminated. We don’t want to give our rivals any advantage.”
_________________________________________________________


The jagged seaside cliffs of pale limestone towered over the rocky shore. Gulls wove overhead in the updraft, while from below rose the deafening echoes of the rolling surf as it beat against the rocks. The cliff face of the Pallid Bluffs looked to be at least three-hundred feet in height, and the beach below was narrow, never more than twenty-feet wide at any point. Though the waters were shallow, the rock and sand beneath the surface made for uneasy footing, and the pounding surf produced a strong undertow. As the Bastards made their way along the inhospitable shoreline, the water beside them began to churn even more violently. A pair of enormous crabs, each the size of a pony, crawled out of the surf and began scuttling towards the companions.  Though the animals appeared fierce with their snapping claws, they were no match for Gorak and Nessalin, who dispatched them easily, and then shoved their bodies back into the ocean.

A bit further down the shore, the group came upon a horn made from a conch shell tethered to the rock wall. High above, a cave mouth could just be seen from the ground, its entrance covered with gates of woven bamboo and palm leaf. Lyrissa stepped forward and winded the horn. Several minutes passed before a dark-skinned man appeared upon the high, narrow ledge before the cave. Dressed in nothing but a loincloth, his wild, knotted hair whipped about in the wind. Shouting above the crashing surf, he called down.
“Who are you, and for what purpose do you seek me?”
“We seek to hire your services!” Lyrissa called up over the howling wind. “We are part of an expedition into the deep Mwangi, and we need an experienced guide!”
“Indeed you do, if the only solution you’ve found to dealing with the local fauna is to kill them!” the man snapped. “Still, wait there. I’ll be down.”
The old man climbed like a giant spider down the cliff face, sure-footed and confidant. Within a couple of minutes, he stood on the beach before the companions.
“So, off into the wilds are you?” the old man snorted. “In truth, I am skeptical of your abilities. At best you seem to me blissful incompetents. I doubt you even capable of finding your way back to town, much less through the jungle. But Gozreh may have different ideas, and it may serve his purpose for me to accompany you. I am willing to accept your proposal if you first prove yourselves by completing two simple tests, one of wind and one of water. Of course, you may decline, but I must add that if you fear performing Gozreh’s simple tasks, there is no way you will survive the jungle.” 
Arioch glanced around at his companions, and he could see that immediately that Agnar and Zavasta would have no qualms about killing the man now. If it came down to it, he would do the same, but it would be best for all involved if they could get the priest’s cooperation.
“Very well,” the summoner agreed. “What are these tasks?”
The challenge of water is hardly difficult,” Nkechi said. “Mostly, it is a test of patience and fortitude. Gozreh requires that you retrieve for him a single black pearl. Head north a bit, out by the crags of the cape. Those shores are filled with oyster beds, and such pearls are not uncommon to those who know where to look. The task of wind is simple as well. All Gozreh requires is a simple, complete feather from a humble stormbird. One such magnificent creature, named Chirok, lives but a day’s walk east. There, at the end of the peninsula, you’ll spot a lone promontory known as Gozreh’s Crest. The bird nests at the top of the cliff. Return when you have a feather. “
_____________________________________________________________

The Bastards chose the water task first, since the oyster beds were closer than Gozreh’s Crest. As they traveled up the coast, they came upon a village of indigenous pearl divers. They were friendly, and offered the companions advice on how to dive for pearls. They warned about the strong currents off shore, and of the sharp edges of the oyster shells and coral. They were even willing to barter some of their diving equipment, such as sandbag weights and diving floats.  When the group reached the point along the shore adjacent to the oyster beds, Gorak, Jack and Nessalin volunteered to go out. Since they had no boat, and none of them were great swimmers, Agnar cast a prayer on the three of them that allowed them to temporarily breathe water. Then, the  trio roped themselves loosely together so that they would not get separated by the current, and then strung together several more lengths of rope to tether them back to those on shore. When all of the preparations were made, the three waded out into the surf and vanished beneath the surface. The oyster beds lay some sixty-feet down, about one-hundred feet off shore. Once the companions reached the beds, they set about the tedious task of prying up and opening the oysters. They found many mundane pearls, and even the occasional black one, but none where of the quality Nkechi had specified. After several minutes of searching, something caught Gorak’s eye. The barbarian looked up and blinked several times. He couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. A beautiful woman floated languidly several yards away from him. As his gaze met hers, she smiled at him and beckoned to him. The oyster in his hand slipped, forgotten, to the sea floor as he walked towards her, drawn by her overwhelming allure. When he reached her, she reached down and slowly untied the rope around his waist. Then she leaned in closer and placed her lips to his.

Nessalin felt the rope go slack, and he looked up, searching for Gorak. What he saw shocked and horrified him. Gorak was trapped in the embrace of some sort of horse-headed creature who’s body seemed to be made out of seaweed.  As Nessalin watched, the thing continued choking the life out of the barbarian. The magus called to Jack, his voice audible due to his ability to breathe water, and then he began moving as quickly as he could towards Gorak and his attacker. When he reached them, he quickly retied the rope around the barbarian, then cast a spell that imbued his scimitar with electricity. The blade sparked and hissed in the water, and when he swung it at the creature, it screamed as the steel channeled electricity into its flesh. It reached out and slammed one arm into the side of Nessalin’s head. He reeled, but managed to infuse his sword with lightning once more. He struck again, and the sea creature shrieked and darted off into the depths. To Nessalin’s dismay, however, Gorak began swimming after it. The magus hauled on the rope, but it was useless. Gorak was easily twice as strong as he, and he found himself being dragged along behind. 

Back on shore, the others felt the rope go taught in a series of quick jerks.
“Grab it!” Arioch shouted. “Pull!”
He, Agnar, Zavasta and Lyrissa hauled for all they were worth, yet still they were pulled inexorably into the water. Arioch quickly opened a circle, and two water elementals came through. At his command, they seized the rope as well and pulled. With their assistance, the companions were gradually able to pull the rope in. When Gorak finally breached the surface, Arioch was stunned to see him struggling mightily with Jack and Nessalin.
“He’s bewitched!” Nessalin shouted. “Help me!”
Agnar released the rope and chanted a prayer. Power emanated from him and washed over Gorak. Immediately, the barbarian calmed.
“Let go of me!” he snarled. “What are you doing?”
“The spell is only temporary,” Agnar said. “Once it wears off, the enchantment will take hold again.”
“Gorak, listen!” Nessalin snapped. “You were under the spell of some creature. It tried to kill you out there! Now, you have to be still and cooperate. We’re going to have to tie you up for your own good until we can get you back to town. Do you understand?”
Gorak didn’t really, but he trusted Nessalin. He nodded once. He walked to shore and allowed himself to be bound and restrained.
“What about the pearl?” Arioch asked.
“We didn’t find one,” Nessalin replied.
“Speak for yourself!” Jack smiled as he held up a perfect black pearl.


----------



## JollyDoc (Sep 11, 2011)

*...Ask Questions Later*

As the Bastards neared the rocky outcropping of Gozreh’s Crest, the sky darkened menacingly and rain began to fall heavily. As Nkechi described, the Crest sat at the very edge of the peninsula, an ominously scarred chunk of dark granite worn into a steep, wave-like shape by centuries of wind and rain. Its face caught the ocean, creating a natural wind tunnel that amplified the wind and created howling updrafts. Overhead, large seabirds rode the winds, hovering above the waves in search of prey. It seemed that Nkechi exaggerated the simplicity of the task he set the companions, as the nest of the stormbird sat some three-hundred feet above the water, at the very peak of the crag. The climb looked to be a daunting one, and the howling wind and driving rain didn’t make the prospect any more appealing. 

“All we need is one feather, right?” Arioch shouted over the wind.
“Yes. So?” Nessalin asked.
“So why don’t I just summon an elemental, have it fly up there and get us one?” the summoner shrugged.
“That sounds far too easy and reasonable,” Jack shook his head. “I’m sure it won’t work, but what do we have to lose?”
Arioch nodded and opened a circle. A moment later, a halfling-sized whirlwind came buzzing out.
“There is a nest above,” Arioch spoke to the elemental in its native Auran tongue. “Fly there, grab a feather, and return to me.”
The elemental lifted into the sky and was quickly lost in the darkness. No more than a minute passed before it came spinning back to the ground and deposited a partially shredded, bright blue fragment of a feather.
Arioch sighed. “A WHOLE feather!” he commanded. “Go again!”
The elemental ascended again, and Arioch rolled his eyes. “They’re useful, but dumb as posts. That’s probably for the best, otherwise they probably would have overrun the Prime a long time ago.”
Minutes passed, but the elemental did not return. Finally, after some five minutes, Arioch cursed.
“The summoning’s expired by now,” he said. “It’s not coming back. Something must have happened.”
“Hate to say ‘I told you so,’” Jack said.
“I’m not done yet,” the summoner snapped.
He opened another circle and called another air elemental to him. Then he closed his eyes in meditation for a full minute, and when he opened them again, Minion stood beside him.
“You always bring me to the nicest places,” the eidolon sighed. 
“I have need of you,” Arioch snipped, ignoring the snide tone. “We need a feather, an intact feather, from that nest above. I’m going to have this elemental carry you aloft, and I want you to find one and bring it back. Don’t worry, I’m going to weave an invisibility spell around you. You’ll be safe.”
“I believe I’ve heard that before,” Minion sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

The nest was huge, fully ten-feet across, and Minion saw immediately what the problem was. There were many feathers in the nest, but they were all shredded, torn, and woven into the fabric of the nest itself. Finding a whole one was going to take time.
“Keep a sharp eye out,” he told the elemental, though he wasn’t certain the creature understood him. 
The eidolon then set about searching for a single, intact feather. Several minutes had passed when he sensed the elemental moving behind him. He whirled in time to see a truly enormous bird hovering on the wind above the nest. Its wings were a rainbow of color, and the tips of its feathers and its eyes burned with green light. It was only then that Minion noticed the clutch of large eggs at the far side of the nest, and then the elemental was airborne, and the stormbird came screeching in. It landed on the edge of the nest, and as the elemental flew by, buffeting the bird as it passed, she stretched out her neck and snapped at the outsider, ripping a large, wispy tendril from its body. 
‘Master!’ Minion called through the mental link he shared with Arioch. ‘The bird’s back, and it’s a big one! The elemental’s keeping it busy at the moment. I think I might be able to sneak up and snatch a feather.’
‘Be careful!’ Arioch called back. ‘You won’t last long if it senses you!’
“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” Minion muttered to himself.
He crept forward, still invisible, until he stood just beneath the stormbird. He reached out a hand and carefully gripped one tail feather. Then, with a mighty tug, he yanked. Nothing happened. Rather, almost nothing. He immediately became visible, his aggressive action cancelling the enchantment.
‘Uh-oh!’ he shouted through the link.
‘Dismissed!’ Arioch commanded.
In an eye blink, Minion vanished, returned to his home dimension.

“Plan C?” Nessalin asked.
“Gorak go,” the big barbarian spoke abruptly. 
“What?” Arioch asked.
“Gorak go up,” Gorak nodded towards the nest. “You make dust devils take Gorak up there. Gorak get feather.”
Arioch just looked at him for several moments, and then he smiled, his lips peeling back from his pointed canines.
“You know,” the summoner said, “I think this just might have a chance!”

Several minutes later, six more air elementals surrounded Gorak.
“Hold on tight,” Arioch told him. “It’s a long way back down.”
Gorak nodded, gripping his sword tightly in both hands. At Arioch’s instruction, two of the elementals grabbed the barbarian, one on each arm, and lifted him skyward. The other four flew quickly ahead, their instructions to keep the stormbird occupied until Gorak reached the nest. In short orders, the elementals came within sight of the nest, as well as the great bird who still sat perched vigilantly on its edge. The stormbird’s lantern-like eyes immediately fixed on the approaching cadre, and it opened its beak to unleash a deafening screech. The leading quartet of elementals scattered, but the sound buffeted Gorak and the whirlwinds the bore him. Gorak felt a wave of vertigo wash over him, jumbling and confusing his thoughts. Suddenly, the elemental on his left released his arm and began to weave drunkenly around the peak, as if it didn’t know where it was. Gorak swung free, and felt his right arm almost pulled out of its socket as the remaining elemental strained to hold him. It careened towards the cliff face, and just as it lost its grip on the half-orc, deposited him precariously on a narrow ledge there. The air elemental then flew away to join its brethren who were already engaged in a fierce melee with the stormbird. The confused elemental, however, came back down and hovered a few feet away from Gorak, staring at him stupidly. To the barbarian’s addled mind, the elemental looked like a smaller version of the stormbird…maybe one of its chicks.
“Go away, stupid bird!” the half-orc yelled, and he lashed out with one fist, trying to force his tormentor away. 
The elemental easily avoided the clumsy blow, but now its own befuddled brain saw Gorak as a mortal enemy. It rammed the barbarian, coming dangerously close to knocking him off his perch. However, just as quickly, the summoned creature seemed to forget where it was again, and blundered off into the gathering darkness. Gorak shook his head in confusion and began to climb. He couldn’t see what was happening above him, but he could hear the continued screeching of the stormbird, and occasionally he would see an elemental plummet past him before vanishing, banished back to its own plane by its death. By the time Gorak reached the nest, the great bird’s shrieks had become fewer, and weaker. He lifted himself over the edge just in time to see the last pair of elementals slam into the stormbird from both sides, snapping its neck back sharply. The great bird collapsed into the nest, broken and dying, still struggling to shelter its eggs with its body. Gorak stood above it, his head finally clearing. As the stormbird took its last breath, the barbarian reached down and plucked a single feather.
________________________________________________________

As the Bastards made the return journey back to the Pallid Bluffs, they found their path along the shore barred by a quartet of warriors from a local Zenj tribe known as the Ijo. They did not look happy.
“We saw what you did!” the leader of the warriors shouted angrily. “You killed the sacred Stormbird! We demand retribution!”
“Oh?” Agnar asked. “Was that your bird? I can reanimate if for you if you like.”
“Agnar!” Arioch hissed. “That isn’t helping.”
“Life for life!” the Ijo warrior demanded. “We take one of yours in exchange for Chirok!”
“How about we just take all of yours instead?” Zavasta snarled.
A moment later the alchemist let fly with a bomb that had suddenly appeared in his hand. The bomb exploded among the Ijo, and immediately after, Agnar unleashed a sonic burst that sent the warriors scattering in all directions. Arioch tried to calm his companions, but it was too late. Gorak, Nessalin and Ishirou were among the stunned natives before they had a chance to recover from the twin blasts. It was over very quickly, the four warriors laying dead on the ground. 
“Well that could have gone better,” Arioch sighed.
“I think it went perfectly,” Agnar shrugged. “Look, we are about to embark on a three month journey across a hostile, savage land. If we have to worry about offending every piss-ant tribe along the way because we step on some sacred flower, or drink from the holy watering hole, then the other factions will reach Saventh-Yi weeks ahead of us! You need to get your priorities in order.”
The priest turned away, Zavasta on his heels. Arioch stared silently after him, and then the summoner’s eyes met Jack’s, and a flash of perfect understanding passed between them.
__________________________________________________________

It was with great skepticism that Nkechi accepting the offerings when the Bastards returned to his cave. 
“Wait here,” he ordered, and then he disappeared into his hermitage for over half an hour.
When he finally reemerged, the old priest was smiling. He invited the companions inside, and then instructed them to sit in a circle on the floor around a large clay brazier filled with herbs. Nkechi picked up a wooden mortar filled with reddish paste, and proceeded to dray mystic symbols on each their faces as he walked around the circle chanting esoteric words. Finally, he pulled out a pouch filled with some small roots. He ate one piece, then offered the rest to the companions.
“What is it?” Nessalin asked suspiciously.
“It will take us to meet Gozreh,” Nkechi replied solemnly.
“Not me!” the magus shook his head and tossed the root aside.
Nkechi quirked one eyebrow and looked around at the others. One by one, they looked to each other. Arioch was the first to put the root in his mouth, and then the others followed his example.

Almost immediately, the companions fell into a dream-like trance, and saw themselves leaving their bodies and drifting as smoke through the night sky. They could each sense their friends nearby, but could see no one. They could see all of the Mwangi Expanse below them. Slowly, the sky turned red, and their bodies reformed, but as strange spirit animals in pale, translucent colors. Arioch found himself in the body of an eagle, while Jack was a monkey. Agnar was a gorilla, and Gorak was crocodile. Zavasta resembled a buffalo, and Lyrissa and Ishirou were both great cats….a cheetah and lion respectively. In the middle of them all, Nkechi took the form of an enormous crab.  
“I see the unveiling of the ruins of a forgotten city from ancient folklore,” the priest intoned. “Many rivals seek it as well. It is unclear who shall be the first to claim it. Yet there is a darkness with this city, and I see ominous storm clouds gathering on the horizon.”
Suddenly, a monstrous serpent appeared in the midst of the companions. It immediately struck out at Arioch, and the summoner felts its fangs, and then a burning poison invaded his flesh. As the snake began to wrap its coils around him, however, Gorak leaped on its back, hammering at it with his fists. Then Ishirou was there, pouncing like the king of beasts he resembled, clawing and tearing with his claws. Finally, Gorak clamped down on the serpent’s neck with his powerful jaws and shook until its head severed from its body. The creature began to writhe and thrash violently before it gradually faded away. As it did, Arioch abruptly recognized the markings on the snake’s body: they were the same as those of Yarzoth, the serpentfolk priestess that had marooned them on Smuggler’s Shiv. As the trance began to fade, the summoner had one last revelation: the dream snake’s death throes were reminiscent of the decapitation of the ancient snake-god Ydersius.

Nessalin watched as his companions broke free of their torpor. Nkechi looked around and nodded his head decisively. 
“I will guide you,” he said. “Whatever you face is a threat to Gozreh, or at least to what Gozreh holds sacred. Gozreh commands me to make this journey with you. When do we leave?”
___________________________________________________________

Three days later, the Bastards, along with Ishirou and Nkechi, were finally ready to depart Eleder. Dargan Etters met with them one last time. He instructed that they should travel several days ahead of the main expedition, blazing the trail so to speak. He provided them with a map of Sargava and the southern Mwangi Expanse. He suggested that they travel light, and stop in the city of Kalabuto to restock on supplies. The Aspis Consortium had contacts there who would make arrangements for the companions stay there, and their continued journey. Etters warned them not to stay at the inn in Kalabuto, and to limit their interactions with the locals, who might be working for the rival faction. Instead, they were to make contact with a dwarf named Cheiton in the Shrunken Head, one of the city’s most popular taverns. He would be recognizable by a distinctive cave-and-pick tattoo on his shoulder. According to the map, the fastest route to Kalabuto lay in traveling overland through the wild scrublands and savanna, along the older trade routes that skirted between the Bandu Hills and the Laughing jungle. The remoteness of the routes would lessen the chance of the Bastards encountering the allies of rival factions seeking to block or sabotage their mission. The trade routes led to the edge of the M’neri Plains, and from there to Kalabuto. Beyond the city, Etters advised them to follow the Upper Korir River north into the Screaming Jungle, and then to the northeastern Bandu Hills until they reached the southernmost reaches of the Mwangi Jungle. Somewhere beneath those trees lay the supposed Azlanti outpost of Tazion which, they hoped, would show them the way on to Saventh-Yi.
______________________________________________________

After five days of travel through the foothills between Eleder and the Bandu Hills, the main trail the companions followed snaked northeast around a tall section of hills, and then detoured north connecting with several of the region’s more profitable and still operating mines. However, the map showed the location of an abandoned mine to the southeast, marked as the Fzumi Salt Mine. It appeared to lead to the edge of the M’neri Plains. 
“This route, it be shorter by a day,” Nkechi remarked as the group paused at the fork. 
“What do you know of the mines?” Arioch asked.
“Nothing,” the old priest shrugged. “I'm just saying it's a shorter path.”
The summoner sighed impatiently, then looked at the others. “Fine,” he snapped. “We’ll take the short cut.”

Soon after they’d set out into the hills, Gorak, who’d been leading them, abruptly came to a halt, he head up and his nostrils flared, sniffing the air. Suddenly, a woman leaped out of the trees beside the trail. She stood nearly six-feet tall, with a perfectly muscled figure and stunning features. Her dark hair was woven into clumped tangles, and she was dressed in scraps of animal hide. She bore a pole-arm crafted from the toothed jaw of some fearsome jungle beast. Crouched behind her was a bipedal reptile the size of a man, and with a mouth full of sharp teeth. 
“You no belong here!” she hissed in Polyglot. “This my land! No hunting here!”
“What did I tell you?” Agnar sighed.
“I assure you, Madame,” Arioch said, inclining his head slightly, “we are not poachers. We are merely passing through. Now, if you’ll stand aside then we shall be on our way.”
“No!” she shouted, as she leaped into the middle of the trail.
“I’ve had enough of this!” Nessalin hissed, drawing his scimitar from its sheath.
Before he had it clear, however, the woman charged. She thrust the sharpened point of her pole-arm into the magus’s gut, and he doubled over from the force of the blow. At the same moment, the dinosaur leaped into the air, clearing the distance between itself and Gorak easily. It landed upon the barbarian like a cat, ripping and tearing at him with tooth and claw. The feral woman stood over Nessalin, preparing to finish him off, when Agnar hurled her back with a sonic blast. As she staggered, Zavasta hit her full in the chest with a flaming bomb. She screamed in pain, and flailed about like a wild animal. Nessalin, his sword still in hand, stumbled towards her, howling in rage. As he swung, his blade sparked with electricity, and as it struck her across the brow, she fell dead in a heap. Meanwhile, Gorak hurled the snarling dinosaur from him, but it quickly gathered itself for another leap. Before it could, however, Ishirou drove his katana through its spine from behind. The beast squealed and thrashed on the ground for several more moments before it was finally still.
From further down the trail, Nkechi watched the entire battle through heavily lidded eyes. He shook his head slightly when it was over.
_________________________________________________________

“Is that really necessary?” Jack asked, nodding towards Gorak.
“Absolutely,” Agnar laughed. “If it bothers you, don’t look at it.”
“It’s not the looking,” Jack groused, “it’s the smell.”
“Gorak not mind,” the big barbarian said as he shifted the carcass of the velociraptor to his other shoulder.

The group had finally reached the site of the old mine. The sagging and overgrown remains of a small camp encircled the gaping entrance visible in the hillside adjacent. It didn’t look like anyone had been there for many years. Most of the buildings were ruined and empty, but inside what had seemingly been a small office, Zavasta found a moldering logbook. The last few entries were dated fifteen years ago, and documented the mining company’s downfall. It appeared that the mine’s owner, a man named Feran Crinhouse, was looking for new salt deposits and decided to secretly try connecting his mine with another mine of the far side of the hills, abandoned earlier under mysterious circumstances and rumored to be haunted. Just as the miners broke through to the abandoned mine, they unearthed a strange orb that glowed with a pulsing blue light. Crinhouse decided to go down into the mine to personally investigate. The final entry was in a different handwriting, and read: “They’ve come up from below! They’re all dead, and their touch withers the flesh! May the gods have mercy on us!”

The wooden beams supporting the mine’s main entrance were weathered and sagging. Water trickled down the sloping floor among the wooden footholds leading down the main shaft. The group made their way into the darkness, two abreast. As they crossed a partially flooded cyst in the shaft, the water in front of Jack suddenly began to roil, and the rogue cried out in pain, and then went completely rigid, unmoving. Some…thing reared up out of the water, looking like nothing so much as a crystalline amorphous blob. Gorak, walking next to Jack, was startled and taken aback by the sudden appearance of the creature, and he reacted the way he normally did when caught off guard…with rage! 
“Get out of there, you half-wit!” Zavasta shouted as he hurled a bomb at the ooze.
The incendiary struck and splattered across the creature, but its semi-liquid form quickly extinguished the flames, leaving not even a scorch mark. Ishirou quickly made his way to Gorak’s side, and the pair of warriors hacked and chopped at the blob, unsure if they were actually causing it any harm. Suddenly, a pseudopod lashed out at Ishirou, and he too was instantaneously paralyzed. Behind them, Arioch called a pair of elementals from the paraelemental plane of mud. The creatures looked like slime covered dwarves, but they moved through the flooded chamber with ease, and quickly flanked the ooze. Their muck-covered fists rained blow after blow down upon the creature until it finally sank back into the water and did not emerge again. Agnar moved quickly to Jack and Ishirou to examine their condition.
“They’ll be fine,” he pronounced. “It’s a temporary toxin. I imagine the ooze used it to immobilize its prey before it dined. Fascinating!”


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## Joachim (Sep 13, 2011)

I like how in the story we were the aggressors with the druid and her pet dinosaur, when in reality we just ignored her and she attacked us.  Never let the facts get in the way of a good story, eh?


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## JollyDoc (Sep 14, 2011)

Joachim said:


> I like how in the story we were the aggressors with the druid and her pet dinosaur, when in reality we just ignored her and she attacked us.  Never let the facts get in the way of a good story, eh?




It's called creative license. Ask Will Shakespeare about it. And she was a barbarian, not a druid...


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## Hammerhead (Sep 14, 2011)

Well, as a reader the crazy druid/barbarian does seem like the aggressor in this situation anyway. The worst thing the party does is draw a weapon when already menaced by a spear and a dinosaur, after attempting to negotiate.


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## Mr Haldol (Sep 20, 2011)

Nessalin's strike to the head of the barbarian was the first called shot of the campaign (from the Ultimate Combat alternative rules). I'm hoping to land a lot of them with a combination of intensified shocking grasp + spell strike...


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## JollyDoc (Sep 20, 2011)

*Occupational hazards*

In what looked to be the beginning of the mine’s main drift, the companions came upon the scattered remnants of a small campsite that lay in a small alcove just above the water line. Rusted and pitting mining equipment lay scattered about, along with several mine carts and the desiccated remains of three mules. A rusted iron strong box could be seen peeking out from under one of the overturned carts. Gorak righted the cart, and Jack squatted down and was just beginning to examine the lock when a small splash echoed from deeper down the shaft. Nessalin whipped around and shined his lantern down the tunnel. From beneath a rickety bridge that spanned the shaft, two emaciated creatures emerged. They were barely recognizable as having once-been human, though the rotted remains of miners’ garb indentified them as such. Their flesh was twisted, and their eyes burned with hatred. Their teeth were beast-like, and though they superficially resembled zombies, they moved with supernatural speed as they charged forward. 

Jack was on his feet in an instant, and rushed to meet the oncoming undead. Gorak was no more than a pace behind him, and as the first of the creatures reached them, the pair flanked right and left, striking simultaneously like a well-oiled machine. The undead corpse exploded in what looked like a cloud of salt. 
“They’re wights!” Agnar shouted in warning as the second creature moved in to attack. “Don’t let them touch you!”
Jack and Gorak turned to look for the second wight, but it was already past them. Nessalin and Ishirou moved to intercept it, and as the magus lifted his blade, he imbued it with a cantrip that was anathema to undead. The creature hissed and lunged at Ishirou, but the old-man was more agile than his years, and he caught the monster with the edge of his katana. Salt poured from the wound, and then Nessalin struck, driving his scimitar into the wight’s back. It shrieked as it to dissolved into a mound of white crystals. 


The mine shaft continued to wind deeper into the earth, and the Bastards walked cautiously, their eyes and ears attuned for any signs of more of the wights. They felt certain that there would be more, since the journal they’d found hinted that this was the fate that had befallen all of the miners. Gorak, in the lead as usual, abruptly came to a halt and cocked his head, listening. Soon, the others heard it as well: a banging sound, as if something metal were striking stone. 
“There!” Jack shouted, pointing towards the ceiling several dozen yards down the tunnel.
The others followed his gaze, and to their horror, saw another pair of wights clinging to the ceiling, their long, filthy claws ripping at the loose rock there. Before the companions could move or react, that portion of the ceiling suddenly gave way, showering them with sharp shards of stone. Worse, the cave-in left a choking, blinding cloud of smoke and debris in its wake. As the group tried to get their bearings, the wights leaped out of the darkness. The melee was chaos, with blades and claws flashing out blindly, and at one point an explosion of fire as Zavasta lobbed one of his bombs blindly, catching most of his allies in the blast. Still, when the smoke finally cleared, Ishirou and Gorak stood over another pair of salt piles, and none of the companions were badly injured. The main shaft was choked with debris, but not impassable. With no choice but to keep going, the group continued on their way. 
 ____________________________________________________

“These wights are not like any I’m familiar with,” Agnar said as the Bastards stood over yet another pair of salt piles, having just defeated two more of the undead horrors. “And that’s saying something. Most of these creatures, when they touch you, they drain a little bit of your life energy away. These, however, almost seem to feed off of the moisture of the living…something akin to dehydration or desiccation. I’d love the chance to study an animate one more closely.”
“Keep dreaming!” Jack snapped. “One touch from one of those things felt like someone poured molten metal on my arm. I like them just fine as seasoning, thank you.”

The drift widened, and a small island rose out of the shallow water in the center. Part of a large, translucent blue orb protruded from the surrounding earth, pulsing with a pale blue glow. The globe was cracked in several places and shards of the strange, glass-like substance lay scattered across the islet’s surface. A sizable hole was smashed into one side, revealing a hollow interior. 
“Didn’t that journal you found mention something about a blue orb?” Jack asked Zavasta.
“Yeah,” the alchemist sneered, “the miners found it just before they all disappeared.”
“Gorak not afraid,” the barbarian said.
He hoisted his blade and stepped onto the island, then moved cautiously towards the orb. When he stepped inside, an electrical strobe of sapphire light flashed around the structure, and Gorak roared in pain as it coursed through him. At the same moment, a pair of figures stepped from the shadows inside the orb. One had once been female, but was now just the shriveled husk of another salt wight. The other was no less undead, but its skin was the blue of a drowning victim, and it carried a heavy pick in its hands. The female wight grabbed Gorak and pulled him further inside the globe, while the blue warrior swung his pick in a wide arc and drove the tip into the barbarian’s back. Gorak collapsed to one knee, his strength leaving him, but then his eyes began to fill with a feral rage, and bone horns thrust through the skin of his forehead, their tips wreathed in fire. He lowered his head and drove it forward, plunging the horns into the belly of the blue warrior, and lifting the creature from its feet as he surged to his feet.

Back outside the dome, the rest of the Bastards watched the battle with trepidation. Nessalin and Jack wanted to rush to Gorak’s aid, but Agnar warned them against it.
“The globe is rife with negative energy,” he said. “You’d be dead within minutes.”
“Then we’d best send in someone expendable,” Arioch replied.
The summoner raised his hands above him, and two stubby elementals rose out of the soil. At his command, they lumbered forward into the globe. The black energy coruscated over them, but didn’t seem to slow them down. The pair began to batter at the wights, driving them away from Gorak. The enraged half-orc, however, wasn’t about to let his quarry escape so easily. As the elementals beat the female wight into paste, Gorak charged the blue warrior and impaled him with his blade while simultaneously tearing out his throat with his horns.

“What’s that?” Jask asked as Gorak came stalking out of the globe.
Something dangled from the end of one of the barbarian’s horns, and Jack reached up to retrieve it. It was a small locket of tarnished silver. The initials F.C. were engraved upon its back. Jack popped the clasp, and inside was a faded portrait of a kindly looking man holding a small child.
“Something about her looks familiar…,” the rogue said.
“It’s the girl you killed on the trail,” Nkechi said.
Jack stared at him, speechless, and then cast his eyes down.
“We can’t leave this thing here,” Arioch broke the silence, pointing to the globe. “The rest of the expedition is going to be coming through here in a few days. We can’t risk exposing them to this dark magic.”
“What do you suggest?” Nessalin asked.
The summoner’s reply was to command his elementals to smash the globe to pieces.
____________________________________________________________

The group finally emerged from the drift into a large cavern filled with immense piles of rock salt chunks, along with an assortment of mining equipment. A pair of iron double doors on the far side opened onto the outside world once more, and the companions found themselves on the edge of the Mneri Plains, a broad swath of savanna that stretched to the horizon. On Nkechi’s advice, they set out across the plains on the next leg of their journey. Two days out from the Fzumi mine, they came upon a camp that consisted of a number of traveling merchants. They had set up an impromptu arena for cockfighting, and dozens of them, as well as guards and porters, had gathered around to place bets on the match. As the Bastards approached, they were welcomed into the camp warmly, and immediately a trio of rough-looking Garundi men made their way over.
“Place your bets?” one of the men asked, implying that it was more of a rhetorical question.
“What are the odds?” Jack asked.
“We’ve got Cornugon,” he pointed to a speckled pea-comb, “and Muddy Lyza,” a brown single comb. “Odds are 2:1 in Lyza’s favor, but the betting’s 2:1 for Cornugon.”
“Put me down for 100 on Cornugon,” Jack said.
“I’ll take that action,” Zavasta chimed in.
One by one, the others, save Nkechi, anted up as well. When all bets were in, the match began. It was brief, violent, and extremely close, but in the end, Cornugon came out on top. 
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jack crowed as he went to collect his winnings from the fight manager, a slender and sickly-looking fellow named Rickets Perga.
“You cheat!” he screamed as Jack approached. “You used magic to rig the fight! I saw you! I pay you nothing!”
Rickets’ three thugs drew cudgels from their belts as they moved to back up their employer. Jack’s weapons were in his hands in a flash, and he deflected a blow meant to crack his skull, then reversed his rapier and stabbed the ruffian in the belly. Then Gorak was at his side, and the barbarian lifted the bleeding man bodily into the air, then snapped his back across his knee. Suddenly, an animalistic roar erupted from behind Rickets, and the crowd of onlookers gasped in fear. The bookie turned and came face to face with an enormous crocodile that Arioch had seemingly plucked out of thin air. Before the man could even begin to scream, the beast seized him in its jaws and shook him like a rag doll. Nessalin and Agnar took out another of the thugs with a combination of fire and lightning, while Lyrissa shattered the club of the last man with her blade, before driving it through his neck. As the last man fell, Agnar leaned over the remains of Rickets and plucked the man’s purse from his belt.
“I trust no one else has anything else to say on this matter?” he asked to those assembled.
His only answer was silence.
“I thought not,” he said.
And with that, the Bastards continued on their way.
________________________________________________________

As the trail skirted the northern border of the Laughing Jungle, the travelling companions spotted a wisp of smoke on the horizon, coming from a small Zenj village huddling under the jungle’s eaves. As they drew closer, the villagers gathered and hailed them warmly….until they saw the horrific visage of the skeletal velociraptor that stalked along behind Agnar. In panicked terror, the natives screamed and fled inside their homes…all except for an older woman with a  painted face. She stood in the door way of her hoot and simply watched the strangers pass impassively.
“Savages,” Agnar chuckled.
Nkechi just shook his head.

That night, the group camped within a stone’s throw of the outlying trees of the Screaming Jungle, and Jack and Gorak stood first watch. Jack was uneasy. He’d felt all day as if he were being watched, and he found himself looking over his shoulder constantly at every snap of a twig in the darkness. It was shortly past midnight when that feeling became all but overwhelming, and the snapping twig suddenly became a crashing and tearing sound coming from within the trees. Jack turned, his hands going for his blades, just as something truly horrific erupted into the glow of the camp fire. The massive, shaggy beast used long and muscular forearms to raise itself onto its hind legs and beat its chest like a gorilla. Despite its ape-like stance, its frame was far heavier and its features more primitive, its powerful muzzle and gnashing canines bespoke terrible, bestial savagery. Before Jack could free his weapons from their sheaths, the creature was upon him, pouncing like a cat. It tore and ripped with tooth and claw, and before Gorak’s disbelieving eyes, Jack went down in a blood-soaked, gory heap. The barbarian gripped his own sword and took a step towards the creature. It was then that the second beast reared up behind the half-orc and fell upon him like a force of nature.

Nkechi woke first, for he too had felt uneasy as darkness had settled over the savannah. His dream had been dark, and filled with the image of the old woman at the village they’d passed. In them, she’d cursed him and his companions for ignoring the need of her people.  When he saw the pair of horrors rampaging through the camp, his heart felt like it was going to hammer its way out of his chest. As a boy, he had been told chilling tales of the savage, child-eating chemosit. While most Mwangi believed these stories held little truth and served only to keep children from wandering too far from their villages, Nkechi had raised to know better. His grandmother had believed the creatures to be the living embodiment of wrathful gods or nature spirits, and villagers that were plagued by the beasts were believed to be cursed. Now not one, but two of the creatures were here before his very eyes, and the old priest felt that he may have the chance to meet Gozreh sooner rather than later.

Arioch awoke next, and though he had no idea what the beasts were, he was just as impressed by their ferocity as Nkechi was. Consequently, his first instinct was to put something large between himself and them. With a gesture, a huge crocodile appeared hissing and snapping in the center of camp. Agnar, who had been sleeping next to the summoner, liked the idea of having minions in front of him, and commanded the undead velociraptor into the fray. The crocodile swung its tail like a bludgeon into the legs of the chemosit that had killed Jack, and the skeletal raptor leaped at it as well. The chemosit caught the raptor in mid-air, smashing it to splinters with one massive paw. Then it turned its full fury on the crocodile, ripping the animal to shreds as easily as it had the rogue. 

Gorak, battered and bleeding, held his ground. Rage took him and he turned on the beast behind him, slashing it deeply with his blade. The chemosit didn’t falter, but instead proceeded to maul the barbarian again, gathering him up into its vice-like embrace. Nearby, Zavasta got to his feet, but as he did so, the first chemosit swatted him back down. The alchemist, his vision blurred, still managed to bring one of his bombs into his hand, and hurled it at the beast attacking Gorak. At the same time, Nessalin charged towards the monster, his scimitar sizzling with living lightning. The beast released Gorak to meet the magus’s attack, but it was a moment too late. Nessalin slashed, releasing the electricity into the chemosit’s blood. The animal stiffened, every hair on end, and then collapsed into a smoldering heap. Meanwhile, Arioch replaced his dead crocodile with a quartet of earth elementals. They erupted out of the ground on all sides of the remaining chemosit. Though the beast whirled and fought like a dervish, the combined force of the elementals was overpowering, and they finally managed to bring the monster down.

Jack knew only darkness, until after what seemed like an eternity, he saw a small point of light some unfathomable distance away. Gradually it grew until it filled his vision, and it was then that he saw that the source of the light was an achingly beautiful angelic woman. 
“It is not your time yet,” she said, her voice like the most haunting song Jack had ever heard. “Besmara still has great plans for you, young one.”
She reached out one finger and placed it gently upon his chest, and in that instant Jack felt a surge like ten lightning bolts explode through him. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself surrounded by his companions, all shouting his name.
“I hear you,” he moaned. “What’s all the fuss about?”
_______________________________________________________

The savannah continued to spread out before the Bastards as they continued to press east towards the Screaming Jungle. Though Agnar had lost his skeletal dinosaur as a minion, he had replaced it with the skeleton of one of the chemosits. The creature lumbered along behind him, its bones still weeping blood, giving the abomination a sickening smell and an even more horrific appearance. The group crested a small rise and saw before them a collection of low snaking mounds that spread out across the plains like an alien landscape. Some twisted and wound for several hundred yards, while others sank back into the soil after only a few yards. 
“What are these?” Arioch asked Nkechi.
The old priest shrugged. “There are many wild beasts to be found on the savannah, both above the ground and under it. I would proceed with caution.”
“Remind me why we brought him along again?” Agnar snapped.

The companions began winding through the maze of mounds, walking quickly, but trying to pay attention to where they stepped. Suddenly, the ground gave way directly beneath the feet of Jack and Lyrissa. The pair fell tumbling into the sinkhole, landing hard some twenty feet below. Immediately the ground around the others began to rumble and shake, and then two great, centipede-like creatures, with compound eyes and large, serrated mandibles, erupted out of the earth. At the same time, a third creature tunneled out of the wall in the hole with Lyrissa and Jack. Gorak, Nessalin and Ishirou moved quickly to place themselves between the rampaging beasts and their allies, while in the pit below, Arioch  sent a trio of earth elementals to the aid of the rogue and the bard. The creatures, ankhegs as Nkechi later called them, proved ferocious opponents, ansthey were able to spit streams of acid from their jaws, but the Bastards ultimately bested them with few injuries, and no loss of life.
“How much further until we find these ruins?” Zavasta breathed heavily after the battle.
Nkechi shrugged. “Assuming no problems on the road…45 more days?”
The alchemist rolled his eyes and groaned, and his companions felt his frustration acutely. With the way things were going, there were no assurances they were ever even going to reach Tazion.


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## RedTonic (Sep 24, 2011)

Ah, I finally caught back up! I am very much enjoying this crew, [MENTION=9546]JollyDoc[/MENTION].


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## JollyDoc (Sep 26, 2011)

RedTonic said:


> Ah, I finally caught back up! I am very much enjoying this crew, [MENTION=9546]JollyDoc[/MENTION].




Thank you! We're not going to be gaming for the next two weeks, which should give me time to get caught up on updates (theoretically).


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## JollyDoc (Sep 30, 2011)

*Bushido*

The dry savannah was like walking across a parched tongue. The constant flock of vultures that circled on the thermals was less than reassuring to the Bastards as they concentrated on simply putting one foot in front of the other. As each hour passed, the number of birds grew larger, though they drew no closer. As sunset approached, however, two much larger birds joined the flock. 
“Geiers,” Nkechi said as he peered at them through Jack’s spyglass. “They’re decidedly more aggressive than their smaller cousins.”
“I guess that’s why they’re getting closer,” Zavasta observed. 
As the giant vultures circled lower, the companions could make out their bald, bloody-looking heads…just before they dove in for the attack. 

The first one hit Gorak like a bomb, its hooked beak tearing off a hunk of flesh as it passed. The second hit Nessalin, bowling the magus over and over as it beat at him with its filthy wings. Fortunately for the Bastards, the geiers turned out to be clumsy flyers. After their initial fly-bys, they landed awkwardly several yards away. Before they could get airborne again, Ishirou rushed them, his katana slashing across the wing of the nearest, insuring it would never fly again. The second bird lowered its head and charged towards the old man, its wings beating up a cloud of dust. Before it reached him, however, the lumbering form of Agnar’s chemosit skeleton reared up in front of it. The undead behemoth snatched the bird up in its arms and began to squeeze. As the geier’s bones began to snap, Gorak finished it off with a merciful swing of his sword. Nessalin did the same for the remaining bird, his scimitar trailing a combination of fire and electricity.

Agnar circled one of the corpses, nodding to himself with his chin pensively in his hand. 
“Yes,” he said. “I think this will do nicely. I’ve always wanted to fly…,”  
___________________________________________________________


As the travelling companions finally drew near to Kalabuto, they came upon a tall and leafless boab tree standing alone in a clearing, its wood burnt black. A circle of tiny bones surrounded the tree, and over a dozen human bodies hung from the branches, making grisly silhouettes against the blue sky. More bodies lay on the ground at the base of the tree. 
“It’s a gallows tree,” Nkechi said grimly. “The warriors of the Mzali create them to instill terror in their neighbors.”
“I’d say it’s pretty effective,” Jack agreed.
“The Mzali hate all who are not Mwangi, and most who are. They are isolationists, and very war-like. We will be safe this near to Kalabuto, but once we are beyond its borders, we will need to be vigilant.”

The Bastards moved past the grisly tableau, but as they did, the dangling bodies began to rustle and stir. Very quickly, they started jerking and moaning at the ends of their nooses, while at the same time, the corpses on the ground rose shambling to their feet.
“You have to admire their artistry,” Agnar shook his head ruefully.
In a matter of moments, almost two dozen of the walking dead came lurching towards the companions. The outcome was never in doubt. Though overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the fetid, plague-ridden zombies, the Bastards fought as a well-trained unit. Within minutes, they cut down the undead like wheat sheaves, putting them to rest once and for all.
____________________________________________________________


Surrounded by pineapple fields and date palm orchards, the city of Kalabuto perched atop a low hill overlooking the River of Lost Tears. An ancient pile of vine-choked, crumbling ruins, the city appeared to be overgrown by the jungle, with a large collection of shanties and warehouses along the riverbank. A snaking boardwalk connected the city to an elaborate tangle of docks. Warehouses made up the bulk of the structures along the water’s edge, while further inland, the ruins of the original city began, climbing up the hill to the more lavish private colonial residences. Dozens of small kiosks lined the riverside boardwalk, and eager-eyed youths scampered about peddling wares as the Bastards entered the town. Wisely, Agnar instructed his undead minions to wait in the jungle beyond the city outskirts, and Nkechi also decided to remain outside, claiming that so many people made him claustrophobic. 

The companions had been in the city less than ten minutes before they were approached by a young Zenj girl carrying a handful of small, hand-carved wooden fetishes.
“I’m Kibi!” she said smiling. “Buy my charms? They are good luck! Any jungle tribes that see them will know you as friends! You buy?”
“Sure kid, whatever,” Zavasta said, tossing a few copper coins at the girl, and then taking one of the charms.
“Thanks!” Kibi beamed. “You won’t regret it!”

The Shrunken Head tavern lay on a stretch of riverside boardwalk wedged between an exotic hardwoods warehouse and a small copper foundry. The tavern’s ground floor sat upon old stone ruins, while the remainder of the structure had a wood frame and plank walls. Inside, customers crowded the dimly lit hall. A haze of smoke from guttering tallow candles filled the room, and on every table, dark-skinned dancing girls dressed in brightly colored veils worked the house, occasionally dipping into the pockets of leering patrons. A brawny dwarf sat by himself at a large table near the bar. The tattoo on his shoulder identified him as Cheiton, the contact the Bastards had been instructed to meet. What the Bastards failed to notice, however, was Kibi, who stood in an alley across the street from the tavern, watching as the companions went inside. Once they were out of sight, she vanished back into the crowd. 
“Glad to see you made it,” Cheiton nodded as the travelers joined him at his table. 
“It wasn’t easy,” Zavasta sneered.
“Well, you’ll be glad to know you’re about half-way to your destination,” the dwarf chuckled. “Now, being that this is a rather public venue, what say we take this conversation somewhere a bit more private? My place is just a couple of blocks over.”

Cheiton lived in a two-story house a short walk from the Shrunken Head. He had three guest rooms on the ground floor, which he made available to the companions. Though curious to hear of their adventures, he quickly set about helping them plan for the next phase of their journey. His contacts in Kalabuto would allow him to arrange any supplies they might need. He warned them that once they left Kalabuto and crossed the Mwangi border, they would have to be on constant alert for foreign tribes, such as the xenophobic cult-warriors of the Mzali, the cannibalistic fey Eloko of the Screaming Jungle, and the degenerate, demon-worshiping ape-men known as the charau-ka. He advised them to complete their business in town quickly, and be on their way. The companions agreed that they would leave the following evening under cover of darkness.
__________________________________________________________


That night, the group decided to post a rotating watch, being a bit paranoid about being exposed in town. Agnar, Jack, Zavasta and Gorak took the first shift. A fearsome group, to be sure, but, as they soon discovered, sheer strength of arms was not always the decisive factor in a battle. Often, it was the element of surprise. None of them heard the windows slowly being raised in the front room, nor the soft footsteps of padded boots on the floorboards. Of course, none of them saw their assailants either until it was much too late, since the trespassers had the foresight to bring invisibility potions with them. When the assailants sprang their ambush, it was with their blades thrust through the backs of each of the watchers. Adding insult to injury was the fact that the assassins’ blades were poisoned, and the venom paralyzed Gorak as he collapsed to the floor.

Down the hall, Nessalin was still awake, poring over his spell books, so it was he that first heard the tell-tale sounds of battle. In another of the guest rooms, however, Arioch was a light sleeper. The summoner didn’t even bother to find out what was going on. He just conjured a giant constrictor snake into the room with him. It never hurt to be prepared. 

Zavasta was the first to recover from the sneak attack, and the alchemist, to his credit, did not react true to form. Instead of lobbing a fire bomb and setting the whole house ablaze, he had the presence of mind to instead pluck a vial of acid from his pouch and hurled that at the large man looming over him. As the bomb struck, covering the assassin in caustic fluid, he screamed horribly as his flesh began to dissolve. Despite his agony, however, he still managed to drive his blade into the alchemist’s shoulder, pinning him to the floor. A pair of the thugs flanked Agnar and took turns stabbing him repeatedly. Within seconds, the priest went down. The last of the assassins stood over Gorak, the big barbarian helpless on the floor at his feet. He raised his sword, then flipped it to the flat and brought it down solidly on Gorak’s head.

Arioch threw open the door to his room, letting the serpent loose into the hallway. He followed that by summoning a leopard, the light of Hell in its eyes. The fiendish cat leaped upon the nearest assassin, clawing and raking at the man as it bore him to the ground. One of his compatriots leaped to his defense, hacking and slashing at the leopard, while the other two chopped the giant snake to pieces. Jack leaped at the thugs, but received a shiv in the gut for his trouble. As he fell back, his attacker advanced, meaning to finish him off. A moment later, however, the man’s eyes went wide and his hair began to smoke as the point of Nessalin’s scimitar erupted out of his chest crackling with electricity.

Arioch began another summoning, calling a quartet of earth elementals that erupted out of the floor. They swarmed the assassins, giving the Bastards still standing some breathing room. In that interval, Gorak finally came out of his paralysis. Battered and bleeding, he swung wildly at the thug who’d been intent on cracking his skull, driving the man back and straight into the waiting paws of the leopard. The cat grabbed the man from behind, clamping its jaws down on his shoulder. Then Ishirou was there, opening the assassin’s belly with his katana. The remaining two assailants saw that the tide had shifted against them, and began making a fighting retreat towards the front door. Unfortunately for them, the elementals were faster. They brought down one under a flurry of earthen fists, and Nessalin finished off the last of them with another electric flourish of his scimitar.

Gradually, those still conscious helped the wounded to their feet and tended their injuries. Cheiton had several healing potions stockpiled, and he offered them freely. He then turned to searching the bodies of the intruders.
“Well, well,” he said as he stood, a strange item in his hand. “I guess this explains things.”
What he held up was a wayfinder, identifying the assassins as agents of the Pathfinders.
“Let’s just be sure!” Agnar snarled.
The priest seized one of the corpses, chanting a guttural prayer as he did so.
“Who sent you?” he growled into the dead thug’s face.
“Don’t…know…name…,” the corpse’s jaw worked. “Gnome…dressed…funny. Bad…jokes…,”
“I knew it!” Agnar spat. “Gelik!”
“I recommend you folks don’t wait around for tomorrow to make yourselves scarce,” Cheiton advised.
“I think you’re right,” Arioch agreed.
__________________________________________________________

The group set out immediately, and by dawn, they had officially left Sargavan lands. They followed the River of Lost Tears until they reached a huge freshwater lake known as the Lake of Vanishing Armies. Dozens of tribal settlements lined the muddy banks of both the river and the lake. The villagers were eager to accommodate travelers into their homes, and offered them all sorts of gifts ranging from exotic foods to mystic drugs, and occasionally their companionship. During their interactions with the tribesfolk, the Bastards heard local legends of a monstrous beast called Aomak, said to live within the lake. The tales described a titanic, saurian monster that devoured fishermen and their boats. One village offered a treasure map to the sunken hulk of a Sargavan vessel in the waters off the northern shore of the lake, in exchange for a few basic supplies. Against Nkechi’s advice, the companions took the map and bartered for a longboat as well. Their junket was not uneventful. Although they did not find Aomak, they did encounter one of its spawn, a young elasmosaurus. The creature surfaced beneath them, capsizing their boat. It was only with the aid of Arioch’s summoned elementals, mud and water, that the creature was eventually destroyed. The Bastards found the sunken treasure, such as it was, managed to right their vessel, and towed the monster’s carcass back to shore. The villagers celebrated with a great feast that evening.
__________________________________________________________


Soon after leaving the Lake of Vanished Armies, the Bastards came to the junction of the Pasuango and Korir Rivers. The crossing, though shallow, looked treacherous, with rapid currents and many sharp, jagged rocks. Agnar scrambled onto the back of his undead geier, and began ferrying his companions across to the other side. He’d managed to get Gorak, Lyrissa, Zavasta and Arioch across when the attack came. On the near side of the river, where Nkechi, Jack, Ishirou and Nessalin still waited, a flurry of arrows suddenly erupted from the trees on either side of them. Each of them was struck, and when the arrows hit, they seemed to flare like acid in their flesh. 
“Mzali!” Nkechi shouted in warning, and then the priest ran stumbling towards the river, chanting a spell as he went. A cloud of opaque mist sprang up around him, concealing him from view from the attackers. Jack was no more than a half step behind Nkechi, and when he reached the river’s edge, the rogue leaped, clearing the expanse in a single bound, and tumbling to his feet on the far shore. 

Arioch saw the Mzali warriors moving out of the trees, already fitting arrows to their bowstrings for a second volley. He began a summoning, and on the opposite shore, a short, squat creature suddenly appeared. It was a dretch demon, a disgusting fiend with a round, bloated body and thing, gangly limbs. It waved its gnarled hands at the two nearest warriors, and a cloud of noxious, yellow-green gas erupted around them. One of them immediately doubled over, retching and gagging, while the other sprinted towards the dretch, pulling an axe from off of his back and hacking viciously at the little demon. Meanwhile, the other two Mzali loosed their arrows. The first struck Nessalin as he dove towards Nkechi’s concealing mist, setting his leg on fire with pain. The second arrow was more accurate. It took Ishirou through the throat. The Tian man stumbled, clutching weakly at the shaft before he fell face first to the ground, unmoving. 

“Get me over there!” Gorak growled at Agnar.
The dark priest directed his zombified bird up, and it seized the barbarian in its talons as it flapped back across the river. Before it could even reach the ground, Gorak wrenched himself free and dropped. As he landed, a snarling leopard suddenly appeared from thin air beside him, courtesy of Arioch. The big cat hurtled across the ground between it and the nearest Mzali in seconds, and then launched itself tooth and claw at the man, tearing his throat out as it took him down.  Gorak, not to be outdone, roared his own battle cry and charged towards the warrior that emerged from the stinking cloud, still vomiting. The barbarian eased the man’s nausea by disemboweling him. The leopard was on the move again, sprinting across the clearing and disposing of another of the Mzali. The last of the warriors, as he turned back towards the trees to retreat, suddenly exploded into flames as Zavasta hurled a bomb from the far side of the river.
___________________________________________________________

Nkechi limped back to Ishirou’s side, but it was too late. The valiant warrior was dead. The Bastards gathered solemnly around his body, everyone at a loss for words. Finally, Jack drew his saber and began digging in the soft soil of the river bank until he’d made a deep enough hole. He lowered Ishirou’s body into it, and covered it back over. Then, as Nkechi spoke a prayer in his native tongue, Jack thrust Ishirou’s katana in the earth, marking the plot as the final resting place of a samurai.


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## JollyDoc (Oct 9, 2011)

*Demons and Necromancers and Fairies, Oh My!*

Two days after their encounter with the Mzali, the Bastards entered the Screaming Jungle. The jungle was so named for the hundreds of species of monkeys that lived within its lush canopy, creating an incessant cacophony. Because of the hazards of navigating the rocky falls and treacherous shallows of the Korir River, the companions continued following the river along its banks. Within a mile of entering the jungle, the terrain became dense forest, and the trek became a slog. Heavy rain would appear out of nowhere, and end just as suddenly, leaving behind a thick mist that hovered waist high from the jungle floor. At one point, the river broadened, and at the center of its widest point, a herd of hippos wallowed and grazed. Nkechi warned the companions of the danger the creatures posed if roused, so they gave the animals a wide berth. Suddenly, however, a trio of reptilian humanoids leaped from the underbrush on the far side of the river and began hurling javelins at the hippos. The animals began to panic, and rushed towards the Bastards, led by a large bull male. Arioch quickly summoned a large aurochs in its path, and Agnar ordered the lumbering skeletal chemosit forward as well. Though the bull hippo savaged the aurochs viciously, its charge was halted long enough for Nessalin to rush in and slash with his scimitar, the blade coruscating with electricity. As it struck, the hippo simply vanished as a rift in space opened beneath it. Nessalin blinked in astonishment. It was obvious to everyone looking on that he’d not expected that result. When the others looked across the river, Nessalin’s display had apparently impressed the lizardfolk as well, for they were nowhere to be seen.

Several days later, the group came to a place where the trees grew broader, and their gnarled branches rose to a tangled canopy that blotted out the sun. Digging into their roots, giant, parasitic corpse-flowers blossomed across the forest floor. Littering the banks of the river were several humanoid corpses, their armor and bodies ripped apart as is by large claws. 
“These were Shackles men,” Jack said as he squatted to examine the bodies. “They’re wearing my father’s colors.” He looked around, his face pale. “Aerys isn’t here,” he breathed.
Suddenly, a series of loud slams and crashing noises echoed through the jungle, sending small monkeys in the treetops screaming in all directions.  Then, a hulking form leaped from the trees, landing heavily on the ground on all-fours. It was an ape, but more massive than any the Bastards had ever seen or heard of. It towered nearly ten-feet when it rose to its full height, and wicked-looking bony protrusions jutted from beneath the fur of its arms and back. It roared and beat its chest, and then dropped to all-fours again and charged.

Arioch was just a second faster, and he opened a portal directly in front of the beast. From out of it lunged a crocodile spawned from the Hells themselves. Horns grew from its brow, and its eyes glowed like flames. It hissed and ran forward to meet the oncoming demon-ape, but as they closed, the ape swatted the croc aside with one massive paw. Abruptly, the ape paused, cocking its head as it stared at the companions. Then it almost seemed to grin, and for just a moment, there might have been more than a hint of intelligence in its piggish eyes. The Bastards felt fear wash over them, twisting their bowels as they saw their doom in the creature’s gaze. Without warning, Lyrissa threw down her sword and fled screaming into the underbrush. A moment later, Nessalin and Zavasta followed her, closely tailed by Arioch’s wounded crocodile.

“This isn’t good!” Jack shouted, just as the ape lunged for him. 
Its claws ripped through his leathers, and as he spun with the blow, the beast sank its teeth into his outstretched arm. Jack screamed, but let his momentum continue to carry him around behind the ape. As it turned towards him, he sank his rapier deep into its flank, and then slashed across its throat with the sabre in his other hand. The ape’s eyes went wide in shock as blood spewed from its neck in a great fountain. It groaned as it sank to the ground, heaved one last breath, and then was still.
“Well that wasn’t so hard,” Jack smirked. “I guess we need to go round up those pansies.”
“Behind you!” Agnar suddenly shouted.
Jack turned, and what he saw horrified him. A black mist rose from the mouth, nose and eyes of the dead ape. As it floated in the air above the carcass, it coalesced into a bipedal, reptilian body, with sharp horns upon its brow, and bat-like wings sprouting from its back. Its eyes glowed like twin coals, and its smoky form was semi-translucent.
“It’s a shadow demon!” Agnar cried. “Get away from it!”
The priest spat out a guttural prayer, and a muffled explosion of sound erupted around the fiend. Its body billowed slightly within the burst, but quickly stabilized. Gorak leaped towards it, and brought his greatsword down upon its hand, separating one of its fingers from it and sending it drifting away in a wispy tendril. The demon snarled and hissed…and then just disappeared, swallowed up in the shadowy gloom beneath the trees.

“Where did it go?” Arioch asked, his head whipping from side to side. “Does anyone see it?”
“Look out!” Nkechi warned, but it was too late.
Another crocodile had emerged from the river, just as big and fearsome-looking as the one Arioch had conjured. It seized the summoner’s leg in its jaws and began to shake him. As its teeth clamped down, however, Arioch realized something…the creature wasn’t wholly real. He could almost see through its hide.
“Shadow-spawn!” he scoffed, and as the truth of the croc’s nature came to him, he saw that the terrible mauling he thought he’d taken was mostly in his mind as well.
“I’ll show you a true summoning!” he cried, and at his command, four stony elementals erupted from the ground. 
One of them smashed its fist into the crocodile, causing it to vanish in a puff of shadow-stuff. Suddenly, a ball of black fire exploded among the remaining companions, scattering them like chaff in the wind. Three of the elementals were simply snuffed out of existence, and when the smoke cleared, Arioch lay unconscious, his robes a smoldering ruin.

“Ok, I think I’ve seen enough,” Agnar said as he ran towards his zombified geir, and leaped to its back. 
At his urging, the ungainly bird flapped into the air, but not before the priest sent a lance of dark energy at the shadow demon, which had reappeared in the wake of the fire ball, silently praying it would buy him time to make his escape. What it did succeed in doing was distracting the demon as it was preparing to cast another spell. Gorak took the opportunity to slam his sword down upon the fiend again, but it wasn’t enough to stop it from completing its casting. A sizzling bolt of black electricity arced through the air and struck both Agnar and his undead mount. Agnar swayed in the saddle, in danger of tumbling to the ground. The demon prepared to cast again, but as it did so, Jack leaped towards it.
“Aha!” he screamed.
To Gorak, the rogue appeared to move in slow motion. He was a sight to see, his feet momentarily leaving the ground, his saw-toothed saber slashing around in a smooth arc, sunlight gleaming upon the blade. The saber struck the shadow-demon’s neck, and continued straight through, lifting the fiend’s head from its shoulders. Without a sound, the demon simply dissolved into nothingness.  
 ___________________________________________________________

Nessalin, Lyrissa and Zavasta returned in time, shame-faced and chagrined. Arioch revived under Nkechi’s ministrations, and all was right with the world again…at least until the next stop along the trail. Several days later, Gorak stopped them at a point along the river. He knelt to examine several snapped saplings and torn brush.
“Something big go this way,” he said. “Not long.”
The big barbarian started down the trail, his companions behind him. Soon enough he came upon two sets of tracks, one of a barefoot humanoid, and the other of a large, clawed humanoid with a stride twice as long as that of a human. The trail led deeper into the jungle to a small clearing where a boar carcass lay splayed open on a boab tree, its entrails laid out before it. 
“Exstispicy,” Agnar observed with interest. “The art of determining the future by studying an animal’s entrails. Primitive, but surprisingly accurate.”
At the edge of the clearing sat a small gravesite surrounded by anthills, with a gaping hole in the side of the cairn that marked where the tomb was breached. As the Bastards watched, a hulking creature stooped to exit the cairn. It was a troll, or at least it had been when it was still alive. The great chunks of flesh missing from its body, exposing bone and rotting sinew beneath, were clear evidence that it had long ago shuffled off the mortal coil. Exiting the tomb behind the zombie came a Mwangi man. His wiry frame was covered in dry ash, giving his skin a pale white crust. He wore an oversized darkwood mask carved to resemble a tusked frog-demon, and macabre fetishes made from severed human hands dangled from a thong around his waist. He carried a glowing spear in his hand, and when he saw the trespassers, he used it to motion the undead troll forward.

“Two can play at that game, my savage friend!” Agnar grinned as he commanded the skeletal chemosit to move.
Before the two lumbering behemoths could clash, Zavasta hurled a bomb at the troll, covering its putrid flesh in acid. Gorak dashed past the chemosit, but as he closed, the troll lashed out one lanky arm, its talons raking deep tracks in the barbarian’s flesh. Then the chemosit was upon it, and the two walking corpses grappled like titans. At that moment, Arioch noticed the Mwangi necromancer preparing to cast. The summoner decided to pull a new trick from his arsenal. From nothing, he created a pit beneath the wizard’s feet, and the man plunged silently into it. He never even screamed. 

Nessalin darted behind the troll while it was occupied with the chemosit. He channeled energy into his scimitar, setting it ablaze with electricity, and then he plunged it into the zombie’s back. The power coursed through the creature, frying everything inside. The smoking husk collapsed to the ground in a pile of ash. Lyrissa dashed to the edge of the pit and glanced down. To her shock, the necromancer was hovering just a few feet below the lip, suspended in mid-air. The bardess began a piercing song, and as she sang, she wove magic into her voice. The necromancer grunted and clawed at his eyes, only to realize that the mask was blocking his access. Blind, he flew upwards, weaving erratically, and heading generally towards the jungle canopy.
“Not so fast!” Agnar laughed.
He leaped atop his zombified vulture, and at his command, the bird leaped after the wizard. With several strong strokes of its wings, it closed the distance, and Agnar reached out a hand glowing with dark energy towards the man. As his fingers touched the necromancer’s skin, the Mwangi went abruptly rigid, paralyzed as if touched by a ghoul. Agnar chuckled as the geir proceeded to devour the wizard while he still lived. By then, his paralyzed throat was incapable of screaming.
____________________________________________________________

“A tomb robber,” Nkechi said in disgust. “This was obviously the resting place of a local hero. The war mask is considered sacred and personal, often handed down to the next generation when a wearer dies. This warrior must have been mighty indeed to be allowed to carry it with him to the next life.”
The old priest’s voice was tense with anger and indignation as he sat by the campfire. Arioch, Nessalin and Jack had already bedded down for the night.
“Well I hope you don’t mind my hanging on to it for awhile,” Lyrissa replied. “It seemed a shame to just leave it there after the tomb had already been despoiled.” 
Nkechi looked as if he had something sharp to say, but Zavasta held up a hand.
“Hush,” he said. “Did you hear that?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Lyrissa said.
Gorak shook his head as well.
“No, he’s right,” Agnar said. “I hear it to. A bell?”
“Yeah…a bell,” Zavasta nodded, his voice distracted as he rose to his feet. “I need to go find it.”
“Wait! What?” Lyrissa asked in confusion. “Where are you going?”
“No, I think it’s over here,” Agnar said as he too got to his feet and began wandering towards the opposite side of the camp.
“Stop them!” Nkechi shouted. “There are Eloko in the jungle!”
Gorak rushed after Agnar just as the priest left the light of the campfire. The barbarian smashed his fist into the side of Agnar’s head, but the priest just kept walking, though somewhat erratically. 

“Wake up!” Lyrissa shouted as she kicked at Arioch. “We’ve got trouble!”
“Huh?” the summoner asked, wiping sleep out of his eyes. “Where?”
Suddenly, a giant shape loomed up behind Lyrissa. The creature towered over her, and was completely hairless. Its teeth were filed to points, and its ears were tapered. Its body was painted in fearsome patterns, and its face bore a skull-like tattoo. It gripped a pole-arm forged from bamboo and bone, and as Lyrissa turned, it swung at her, slashing a deep gash across her face. She fell back, stumbled over Arioch and landed flat on her back, bleeding profusely. The creature stood above Arioch and raised its halberd again. The summoner lifted his hands, and a giant crocodile exploded out of the air, and clamped its jaws down on the giant’s neck. The croc bore the creature to the ground and began to roll about in the dirt with it, never letting go of its grip. Finally, the giant’s struggles stopped, and to Arioch’s amazement, it began to shrink until it was the size of a gnome, which the crocodile promptly swallowed in one gulp.

In the darkness of the jungle, a tall figure rose up out of the shadows in front of Agnar.
“Do you have the bell?” the priest asked, his speech slightly slurred by the concussion he’d suffered at Gorak’s hands.
In response, the giant raised the pole-arm in its hands and brought down in a vicious chop on Agnar’s shoulder, knocking him down with the force of the blow. 
“What in the Hells!?” Agnar shouted, his mind struggling to grasp what was happening. “Where am I? Who are you?”
The creature didn’t answer, except to raise its weapon again. Before it could strike, however, Gorak slammed into it like a charging bull. The giant tried to bring its halberd to bear, but the quarters were too close. Gorak took a step back, and then swung his sword with all of his considerable might, disemboweling the creature with one blow. As it died, it shrank, leaving a being no larger than a child at the barbarian’s feet.

On the far side of the camp, Zavasta came face-to-face with his own bell-ringing, giant Eloko. It struck him as he came close, but unlike Agnar, the alchemist’s response as his confusion cleared was rage. He hurled a bomb into the giant’s face, and as it fell back in agony, he threw two more, dissolving the creature’s flesh as it shrank to diminutive size in death.

“The dangers are not going to get any easier,” Nkechi said as the companions regrouped at the camp site. “Those were Eloko. They are evil fey headhunters. They use trickery to lure their prey away alone where they can be taken more easily.”
“What else is out here that we need to know about?” Agnar snapped.
“Legion,” the priest answered cryptically. “Legion.”


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## JollyDoc (Oct 9, 2011)

Just a note regarding the truly incredible feat Jack pulled off against the shadow demon. First, he had to hit the creatures fairly high armor class. He rolled a crit threat. Then he had to confirm that, which he did. We use Paizo's iCrit and iFumble apps for iPad, so I generated a random critical...it was decapitation, for which a saving throw is allowed. The demon failed. After the fact, I believe we calculated the chances of all of these stars aligning as about 1 in 1,250. If it hadn't happened, things were not looking hopeful for the PC's.


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## fludogg (Oct 9, 2011)

Never give up, I say!   And never tell me the odds.

-Jack


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## JollyDoc (Oct 16, 2011)

*Danse Macabre*

Several days later the Screaming Jungle was left behind as the river flowed across the Korir Plains. The river widened and became fast and shallow, and the surrounding vegetation consisted of almost entirely of reeds, mangroves, lotuses and other water plants. After travelling a few miles along the river’s course, the Bastards spied four young Zenj women bathing in the water. When the women spied the travelers, they giggled and beckoned to them.
“Ah!” Nkechi said to his traveling companions. “Unless I miss my guess, these are spirit dancers. To witness them perform, it is said, brings good fortune.”
“I can believe that!” Jack grinned wolfishly.
“Greetings, wanderers,” one of the women said as the Bastards approached. Though all of the ladies were beautiful, she was even fairer still. “I am Zakiyya, and these are my sisters, Alala, Masozi and Osumare. You appear weary from the road. Won’t you join us for our evening meal? Our home is not far from here.”
“We’d be honored!” Jack piped up before anyone could object. 

The simple but clean hut on the river bank was indeed not far, and once there the companions were fed a filling meal of fish, frog legs, and wild rice around an outdoor hearth.
“I’m sure that your guide,” Zakiyya nodded to Nkechi, “has told you of our profession. We are spirit dancers, priestesses among our people. It seems you are on a quest, and it is our sacred duty to offer our services to you. If would permit it, we can awaken your totem spirits. They will aid you upon your journey, and help guide your path.”
Nessalin had been watching the women closely throughout the meal. Though all of them smiled brightly and seemed friendly, even overly so, the other three deferred to Zakiyya in all things. Furthermore, when Alala, Masozi and Osumare were not directly engaged in conversation, they seemed glassy-eyed and listless. One by one, however, his companions accepted Zakiyya’s offer.
“I’ll pass,” the magus said simply when it came his turn.
“And I unlocked my spirit guide long ago,” Nkechi smiled.
“Very well then,” Zakiyya smiled in return. “Let us begin.”

The women prepared an herbal tea, which they offered the Bastards. They each drank deeply as the Zenj began their hypnotic dance. After only a few minutes, Jack’s and Agnar’s heads began to loll, and within moments, they both slumped over, snoring loudly. Lyrissa soon followed suit.  Gorak had eyes only for Zakiyya, while Zavasta stared raptly at Masozi. 
“Take your friend inside,” Masozi said gently to the alchemist as she nodded at Agnar. “He is overwrought and needs rest.”
Wordlessly, Zavasta stood and lifted Agnar in his arms before disappearing into the hut.
“I knew it!” Nessalin spat. “It’s a trap!”
He drew his scimitar and spoke a word, weaving sparks of electricity around its blade. With a snarl, he leaped at Alala and cut her down with one slice.
“No!” Nkechi shouted. “This is not the way of the spirit dancers! Something has bewitched them! Do not harm them!”
“Gorak,” Zakiyya purred. “Be a dear and kill Arioch for me.”
The barbarian grunted enthusiastically and turned towards the summoner, murder in his eyes.
“As for you, Nessalin,” she locked her gaze upon the magus. “That wasn’t very nice of you, killing Alala like that. Isn’t there any way we could be friends?”
Nessalin blinked and looked around in confusion. What was going on? Where was he?
“Of course we can,” he nodded. “Why would you even ask?”
“That’s what I thought,” Zakiyya smiled. 

“We have to get out of here!” Arioch shouted to Nessalin. 
The priest agreed, and as they began to run, he spoke a prayer, and a cloud of billowing mist covered their retreat. They’d gone no more than two steps, however, before Gorak loomed out of the shadows behind them. His sword swung and slashed across Nkechi’s back, sending the priest sprawling. Bleeding profusely, he looked up to see the big barbarian standing over him, preparing to deliver the killing blow. 
“Gozreh!” he prayed. “Grant me sanctuary!”
He waited for the sword to fall, but it didn’t. A look of confusion came over Gorak’s face, then he shrugged and stalked off into the mist. Arioch had seen the exchange, but knew there was nothing he could do except die in Nkechi’s stead. He turned and vanished into the cloud, only to make his way quietly to the far edge. He could just see Zakiyya standing on the river bank, smiling to herself. The summoner threw out his hands, and a golden leopard sprang from the air and charged towards the woman, leaping at the last moment, and raking at her with its claws. Zakiyya snarled and pointed a finger at the cat.
“Sit!” she commanded.
Like a well-heeled house pet, the leopard did just that.

Zavasta peeked out the door of the cabin. He wasn’t sure what was going on, only that Zakiyya seemed to have gone crazy, and Masozi might be in danger. He pulled a bomb from his belt and hurled it at Zakiyya. It exploded at her feet and showered her with acid.
“Zavasta! Stop!” Masozi commanded. “She is our friend!”
The alchemist shrugged and turned back towards the cabin. As he did, Nessalin’s eyes fixed upon Masozi. Something was not right. Why was she ordering Zavasta around like that? That shouldn’t be. He was ensorcelled! The magus ran towards the spirit dancer, and as she turned towards him with shock upon her face, he cut her down. In that instant, Zavasta’s mind was freed. 

Arioch summoned as second leopard, and though that one managed to claw Zakiyya’s thigh, she enthralled it as well. Then he summoned a small, globe-like archon, one of the least of the celestials. It fired rays of light from its body at the spirit dancer, but then it too came under her spell. Arioch called an aurochs and sent it stampeding towards her. It managed to trample and kill one of the leopards, before it quickly became as docile as a calf. The summoner was running out of ideas.

From the shelter of the cabin, Zavasta hurled another bomb at Zakiyya. 
“Gorak!” she screamed. “Kill him!”
The barbarian came charging out of the mist towards Zavasta. The alchemist tried to slam the cabin’s door, but Gorak lowered his shoulder and smashed it in, thrusting his blade into Zavasta’s belly as he came. Thinking quickly, the alchemist fished a flask from his belt and gulped it down. Instantly, he vanished from view, invisible. He held his breath, knowing that if Gorak even suspected he was still there, he was dead. The barbarian looked around for a moment, and then went back outside.

Arioch knew that if he kept summoning single creatures, Zakiyya would just continue to take control of them. He had only one chance. He had almost expended his summonings for the day, and he had to make his efforts count. He cast the spell, and three elementals erupted out of the ground around the spirit dancer. All of them began pummeling Zakiyya.
“Gorak!” she cried. “Help me!” 
The barbarian came charging towards her, his sword smashing one of the elementals to dust. Arioch summoned three more. Zakiyya was bleeding freely by this time, and fear was in her eyes.
“Gorak, Osumare!” she commanded. “Kill them all!”
Then she vanished in a flash of crimson light. Gorak raised his sword and stared around wildly. Then, he clenched his eyes shut and shook his head violently.
“No!” he screamed. “Get out of me head!”
When he opened his eyes, they were clear once more, his will his own again. Next to him, Osumare lay on the ground weeping, her spell also broken, and the full horror of her actions clear to her.
__________________________________________________________

Osumare told her tale to the Bastards that evening around the fire outside her home. She and her sisters had been approached by Zakiyya, who offered to teach them secret rituals to bring them closer to their totem spirits. They accepted her profane gifts before they realized her demonic nature. When she finally revealed herself as a succubus, the spirit dancers were horrified, but they were too afraid to oppose her, for if Zakiyya took back her gifts, they would be forever cut off from their totem spirits. She knew she could never make amends for her sins, and she completely blamed herself for the death of her sisters, but she offered to make some small measure of recompense to the companions by performing for them the true ritual to unlock their spirit totems.  This time, all of the Bastards agreed. Osumare danced beautifully to summon the totem animals, then proceeded to tattoo each of the totems on their respective owners with long, slender quills dipped in localized numbing toxin. The process was painful even so, and the entire ritual took several hours. Once it was completed, however, each of the Bastards found that they could call on their totems for guidance. Zavasta took it one step further. His totem turned out to be a vulture, and that night the alchemist worked feverishly on a new concoction that he’d had an idea for. He injected himself with it immediately, and when he  woke in the morning he proudly showed off the new pair of black feathered wings he’d sprouted overnight.
____________________________________________________________

One week later, the Bastards, led by Nkechi and guided by their totem spirits, finally reached the ruins of the Azlanti outpost of Tazion. The crumbling remnants of a massive enclosure wall marked the perimeter of the ruins. Entire sections had eroded away or lay buried beneath sediment, while vines and vegetation strangled what little exposed stonework remained. The companions began scrambling through one of the large holes in the walls, but as Agnar’s skeletal chemosit blundered through, a barbed net sprang up around it and hoisted it bodily into the trees. Frustrated, Agnar took flight upon the zombified geir and cut the chemosit free.
“This net is not ancient,” Nkechi noted. “It looks relatively new. We are not alone here.”

Not far inside the enclosure wall, the companions came upon a large vine-draped pit in the ground. When they peered down, however, they saw worked stone. It was apparently some sort of ancient, long dry aqueduct. It seemed a good way to traverse the ruins without running across any hostiles until they’d had a chance to ascertain exactly what they were up against. 
“Wait a moment,” Arioch said. “I’ll whip us up a scout.”
He opened a summoning circle, and a small lantern archon flitted out.
“Go below and see what’s down there,” Arioch commanded it. 
The little globe of light bobbed in acknowledgement, then flashed down into the pit. A moment later, the companions heard a rumbling roar from below, almost like the sound of rushing water. When they looked down, they saw that a huge, vaguely humanoid column of water had reared up in front of the archon. The diminutive celestial was brave. It held its ground and loosed a trio of energy rays into the oncoming elemental. Zavasta backed up the archon by hurling an acidic bomb into the body of the elemental as it prepared to attack. A moment later, Jack leaped into the pit, followed closely by Gorak, and then, at Agnar’s command, the chemosit skeleton.  The chemosit swung one taloned paw at the elemental, but the water creature responded with two enormous pseudopods that slammed into both the skeleton and the archon. Then, when Jack attempted to somersault behind it, it smashed another fist into him as well. Gorak charged, trying to distract the elemental from Jack. He struck with fury, while beside him the chemosit continued to pummel the guardian, and from behind, the archon unleashed another salvo of celestial light. The elemental slammed one massive arm into all three of its attackers, snuffing the archon out of existence, and reducing the chemosit into a pile of bloody bones. By that time, however, Jack was on his feet again, and while he struck from behind, Gorak slashed furiously from the front. Finally, the elemental collapsed in on itself, leaving a large pool of water which quickly drained away down the aqueduct.

The other companions climbed down into the tunnel, and Agnar stood over what had been his minion.
“Tough break,” Jack snickered.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” the priest replied. “It will regenerate, but it will take some time. It should be fine here for now while we continue onward.”
“Great,” Jack sighed.
Quietly, the group proceeded down the darkened passage. After several minutes, the tunnel branched to their right. They ignored the offshoot and continued on ahead.  Eventually, the channel ended in a weathered stairwell that led back to the surface. When the group emerged, however, they did not find themselves outside, but instead inside of a ruined tower. The floor was hidden beneath a veritable carpet of multicolored snakes. Among them slithered a constrictor of enormous size, as well a quartet of deadly violet mambas. 

Arioch quickly called four elementals to him, this time wreathed entirely in flames. They waded into the serpents, setting snakes ablaze on all sides, including two of the mambas. Gorak walked behind them, hacking all around him as the snakes closed in. Then, almost too quick to see, the constrictor struck. It wrapped its coils around the barbarian and began to squeeze. Gorak’s eyes bulged, and his face turned crimson as rage overcame him. Bony spikes began ripping through his flesh from beneath, piercing the snake’s tough hide. As the serpent recoiled, the elementals swarmed it, setting it alight as they hammered it with their fists. It released Gorak as it burned to a smoking cinder. Gorak roared in victory as he sliced another of the mambas in half, and Nessalin charred the last one with his electrified scimitar. The tower itself turned out to be little more than a hollow shell. Rather than venture back outside into the unknown, the Bastards descended back into the aqueduct and backtracked to the side tunnel they’d bypassed before. 
_______________________________________________________

The secondary passage came to a dead end in the side of a deep well. Its bottom was dry some forty feet below, while twenty or so feet above blue sky could be seen. 
“Hush!” Jack cautioned the others.
He cocked his head, listening carefully. From somewhere below, he thought he heard a faint slithering sound in the darkness. From above there came a chattering cacophony, vaguely reminiscent of monkeys.
“We’ve got company top and bottom,” he whispered to the others.
“Move aside,” Arioch replied. “I’ll send the elementals to scout the bottom while we still have them.”
“That’s a long way down,” Jack said. “You sure they can survive that?”
“They won’t have to,” the summoner smiled.

At Arioch’s command, the four elementals leaped into the shaft and began to plummet. The summoner quickly cast another spell, and instantaneously the creatures began to float downwards, like feathers on a breeze. No sooner had they touched down at the bottom of the well,however, than a flash of violent motion erupted from a small hole in the side of the shaft. To the observers above, it looked like a black-skinned octopus. Two of its rubbery arms seized a pair of the elementals and tore them to pieces. Whatever the creature was, it suffered severe burns for its trouble, but it was not slowed. It began crawling towards the other elementals. 

“I’m going down there,” Nessalin said.
He quickly dropped a rope over the side and began sliding down. Gorak grabbed the rope behind him and started down after him. Suddenly, the chattering from above grew louder. Nessalin looked up and saw four faces peering down at him from the top of the well. They looked like baboons, but they wore leather armor, and a sinister intelligence glinted in their eyes. When they saw the Bastards, they began to hoot wildly, and then grabbed rocks from the lip of the well and started throwing them with deadly accuracy. A pair of stones struck Nessalin in the head, and he almost lost his grip as blood flowed into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. Above him, Gorak was pelted as well, and at the magus’s urging, he began scrambling back up the rope, Nessalin right behind him.

Below, the remaining elementals pummeled the crawling octopoid until it retreated back into its hole. They bent low and followed. It was a fatal mistake. The creature’s lair was a dead-end, and backed into a corner, it fought savagely. Within seconds, it killed both the elementals, but the burns it suffered as it did so proved deadly for it as well.

Arioch cast another summoning as the ape-men continued tossing rocks into the well. This time he called a dretch, and the little demon quickly wove a noxious green cloud at the top of the well. Immediately, the sound of violent retching came from above. 
“Coming through!” Zavasta shouted as he elbowed past his companions
The alchemist leaped into the shaft and unfurled his wings as he did, then flew awkwardly to the top. As he emerged, he got a good look at the ape-men. They were short, no more than three-feet tall, but they carried carved cudgels on their belts, and their armor was well-made. Three of them were in the throes of nausea, while the fourth looked around in confusion. When it saw Zavasta, however, it quickly snatched up a rock and pelted the alchemist squarely in the forehead. Zavasta cursed and hurled an acid bomb amongst the apes. The one who’d attacked him screamed as its flesh dissolved, while the others could do nothing to defend themselves as the acid splashed on them as well. Zavasta threw again…and again, until nothing was left of the creatures but sizzling piles of gore.


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## RedTonic (Oct 20, 2011)

It looks like the party is having a pretty awesome time. :3


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## JollyDoc (Oct 22, 2011)

*Snakes and Monkies*

The Bastards moved carefully across the jungle-choked ruins towards two vine-covered mounds that might once have been buildings. Suddenly, a cacophony of hoots and growls came from the trees around them. Soon the cries were picked up some distance away. In the tree branches above, three charau-ka crouched, their fangs bared, and rocks clutched in their hands. One of them pelted Jack in the chest, while another pegged Nkechi in the back of the head, sending the old man reeling. Lyrissa turned towards the ape-men and unleashed a blistering tirade of the most vicious invectives her companions had ever heard. The charau-ka grabbed their ears and shrieked as their skin burst into flames. They fell from the trees and rolled madly on the ground, trying to extinguish the fire. One of them stopped moving after a moment, a charred husk, and Nessalin stabbed a second one through the back before it could regain its feet. The last one wasn’t as crispy, and it leaped to its feet and charged Zavasta. The alchemist grabbed for a bomb, but the charau-ka was already on him, beating him about the head with its club, and biting into his arm.  Then Jack and Lyrissa were there, stabbing the creature repeatedly until it stopped struggling.
“We need to keep moving!” Nessalin snapped, his eyes going to the trees. “We don’t know how many of these things are still out there. From the sound of it, I’d guess quite a few!”
_________________________________________________________

Near the center of the ruins stood the shattered remains of three conical cylinders connected by low, thick walls of piled stone. Boab trees burst from crumbling structures, their thick roots and branches devouring large chunks of ancient stonework. The walls surrounded an overgrown courtyard of toppled statues and weathered foundations, with a path of broken cobbles  that wound around large, watery pools. Wide marble steps led to a short foyer hedged by low, broken walls. A gnarled boab tree erupted from the floor, its powerful roots twisted through the surrounding flagstones, leaving them cracked and shattered. As Jack and Nessalin led the group across the threshold, a loud snap sounded from above them. A large, stone block that had been suspended overhead plummeted down and smashed to pieces, peppering the rogue and the magus with fist-sized fragments. 
“I’d say they already know we’re here,” Agnar remarked.

The courtyard they entered had entire sections of the outer wall that had collapsed into several small tar pits that bubbled up among the ruins. A very large pool stretched through the center of the ruins, a thin layer of black and glassy water on its surface. Crumbling remnants of walls rose from it, while huge slabs of salvaged granite formed a makeshift foundation that supported crude walkways cut from felled trees. As the companions cautiously skirted the pool, four charau-ka suddenly rose up from behind the walls, hooting and yammering as they began to hurl chunks of granite. One of the rocks caught Lyrissa in the temple, and Gorak had to grab the bardess by the arm to keep her from tumbling headlong into the tar pit. Zavasta leaped for cover, tossing a bomb as he tumbled. The acidic explosion caught one of the ape-men full-on, and splashed the others with caustic fluid. Jack ran nimbly across one of the walkways, closing the distance to the charau-ka that was still screaming from the acid bomb. As the rogue drew close, he drew back his rapier and stabbed it neatly through the ape-man’s ear, sending it sprawling into the pool. Suddenly, another of the charau-ka leaped onto the small island behind Jack, and clubbed him behind one knee. Jack turned, his swords coming up defensively, but he saw Gorak looming up behind the creature, and he knew he had nothing to worry about. The big barbarian quickly dispatched the charau-ka, only to find that another one had joined them on the island. It flailed its club at Gorak’s belly, while at the same time the last of the ape-men pelted the half-orc with rocks. Jack stabbed Gorak’s club-wielding assailant, and when it turned on him, the barbarian hacked it to pieces. Jack leaped again and tumbled past the last charau-ka. It clipped him with its cudgel as he passed. He rolled to his feet and batted the club aside, then stabbed the ape-man in the chest. It spun away, only to find itself staring at Gorak’s knocked bow. The barbarian loosed, and the arrow took the charau-ka through the throat.


As the Bastards continued working their way through the ruins of the ancient temple, they came to the remains of one of the outer cylinders, which contained another of the ubiquitous tar pits, again with rough planks splayed crookedly across it. On the near side was a towering marble statue of an elephant. Beyond the tower entrance lay a single, circular chamber, its walls arched inward to form a dome. Across the curved walls coiled a sculpture of a massive, decapitated skeletal serpent formed from thousands of blackened bones pasted to the stone with tar. A single, glittering eye winked from the serpent’s severed head. When the group eased their way past the massive statue, hooting and shouting erupted above them as four more charau-ka stood up from their hiding places atop the elephant. In the room beyond, another charau-ka stepped into view. He wore armor crafted from the skins of giant serpents, and wielded a bloody, tar-soaked mace. His yellow eyes were wide and staring, betraying a madness within. This was Raogru, the self-proclaimed Fang of Ydersius. Behind him was his constant companion, a truly enormous ringed python.

Arioch had fully expected an ambush of some sort, and when it came, he was ready. He quickly summoned a golden-pelted leopard right next to the charau-ka priest. The big cat leaped on the ape-man and wrapped him up in its paws.  Then it was mayhem around the Bastards as the charau-ka above began hurling chunks of masonry at them. Agnar turned and unleashed a concussive blast of sound at their assailants, sending three of them reeling. Gorak broke from his companions and leaped the short distance across the tar pit to land next to Raogru. He raised his sword to strike the priest down, but in that moment, his eyes locked with the charau-ka’s yellow, slitted ones, and the barbarian felt himself falling into their jaundiced depths. As Raogru kept his hypnotic gaze upon the big half-orc, his serpent companion struck lightning fast, sinking its teeth into the leopard. As the cat drew back, the snake held on, and began wrapping its coils around it. In seconds, the leopard was crushed into a bloody pulp.

Zavasta tossed one of his bombs over handed to the top of the elephant statue. It exploded among the charau-ka, soaking them all in burning fluid. One of them snatched up a last stone, and cracked Lyrissa in the head with it. Then Zavasta threw another incindiary, killing the charau-ka warriors instantly.

Arioch hastily performed another summoning, and a quartet of earth elementals surfaced around Raogru. The priest began to shriek in an enraged frenzy, and struck Gorak viciously across the head with his mace. Then the elementals were upon him, beating and hammering at him with their stony fists. Finally, one struck Raogru in the back, breaking his spine with an audible snap. The priest fell to the floor writhing in agony as he died, and Gorak was suddenly free again. He turned on the giant serpent and swept its head from its body with a great swing of his blade.
 _______________________________________________________

“I thought you said charau-ka were demon worshippers,” Agnar remarked to Nkechi as the group searched the dead priest’s lair.
The old priest shrugged. “It is true. I have only ever heard such.”
“Then why are they worshipping a dead snake god?” Agnar wondered aloud.
“Snakes seem to be a recurring theme,” Jack snorted. “First that snake-headed bitch maroons us on the Shiv, and now we find a snake cult in the one place that is supposed to lead us to the city the snake lady was looking for. Sounds fishy to me.”
“Don’t you mean snaky?” Nessalin grinned.
“Have a look at this,” Arioch interrupted. 
The summoner was standing near the bas-relief of the Ydersius on the wall. He was examining the moonstone that comprised the carving’s eye.
“I’m sensing a faint magic from this,” Arioch said. “I’m going to take it with us.”
“You say that as if that fact where ever in doubt!” Jack said. “You forget…I’m only in this for the money!”
___________________________________________________________

As the Bastards made their way back out of the ancient temple, they literally stumbled upon a trio of charau-ka dressed in shabby acolyte robes in the process of setting three Mwangi dipped in tar on fire. Arioch immediately set his elementals upon the ape-men, but the charau-ka were more than a match. In the end, though they were badly wounded, the acolytes destroyed all four of the elementals, forcing Jack and Gorak to put an end to them themselves. It was too late for two of the prisoners, but the third was still alive, though horribly burned. Nkechi tended to the worst of his wounds, and though he was grateful, he had no information to share about his captors. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the cursed ruins and back to his tribe. The Bastards escorted him back to the walls, and then turned towards the last structure in the compound to be explored…a lone, vine-covered ziggurat.


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## carborundum (Oct 30, 2011)

Hooray - I've finally caught up again. Great stuff, every bit of it  Thank you for all your hard work!

And.. ziggurat? As everyone who's played STAP knows, nothing good ever came out of visiting a ziggurat


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## JollyDoc (Nov 1, 2011)

carborundum said:


> Hooray - I've finally caught up again. Great stuff, every bit of it  Thank you for all your hard work!
> 
> And.. ziggurat? As everyone who's played STAP knows, nothing good ever came out of visiting a ziggurat




As always, thanks for your continued readership!

And you're right about the ziggurat...observe...


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## JollyDoc (Nov 1, 2011)

*A way forward*

In the northern section of the ruins rose a tremendous mound of vegetation, barely recognizable as a great, overgrown structure. Yet standing beneath the dripping leaves and vines was a multitiered stone ziggurat of ancient construction. Having sunk into the dark Mwangi soil over the centuries, the lowest tier was only partially exposed, and its heavy stone doors were almost completely obscured by hanging vegetation. As it was, it took Gorak and Nessalin working together for several minutes to force the great portals open. Beyond was a small foyer with doors on each wall. A large puddle of water seeped from beneath the one directly across from the main entrance. 

The companions turned first to the door on the north wall, to the right of the exterior doors. It opened easily enough, revealing a hall, the high-arched ceiling of which was embedded with glittering crystals to represent a starry sky. Friezes along the walls showed people of noble bearing travelling through a variety of landscapes and terrains. The hall ended at a curved flight of descending stairs. 
“These are the motifs of Desna,” Agnar mused as he stared at the carvings. “Humph. I wasn’t aware that the Azlanti counted gypsies among their number.”
Suddenly, a soft, metallic susurrus echoed from the far end of the hall. A trio of serpents emerged from the darkness, their eyes glowing red, and their scales not of flesh but of metal…mithral in fact. As they flashed towards the Bastards, Zavasta tossed a globe of acid among them. One of them dissolved instantly into a pool of liquid slag, while the hides of the other two smoked and hissed. Still they came, sidewinding and twisting. Jack slashed the head from the nearest, and then the last struck and sank its fangs into his ankle, twisting its coils around his feet and sending him sprawling to the floor. As it reared and flared its hood to strike again, Gorak smashed it to pieces. 
“I cannot believe there are still guardians here, after all this time,” Jack said.
“The Azlanti were said to be a marvelous race,” Lyrissa replied, “descended from the gods themselves. Who knows what they were capable of? If Saventh-Yhi has remained hidden for millennia, then nothing that we find here, a mere outpost, should surprise us.

The stairs at the far end of the hall led nowhere, having long ago collapsed into rubble. The companions returned to the foyer, and chose the southern door next. Faded, yellowish-brown paint flaked from the ceiling of the room beyond, which was decorated with solar designs. Cracked, faded paintings on the walls depicted ancient soldiers fighting snake-headed creatures under bright skies. The stonework beneath appeared damp and was covered with condensation. 
“Now this is interesting,” Agnar said as he took in the décor. “These are representations of Nurgal, the demon-lord of warfare and the sun. I’m gaining respect for ancient Azlant. It seems they were practical in their worship, calling upon whichever god would aid them most according to their need.”
“A war god,” Gorak grinned. “I like!”
He stepped into the room just as Nkechi shouted from behind him.
“No! Wait!”
It was too late. As the barbarian crossed the threshold, what had appeared to be nothing more than a layer of yellowed dust on the floor suddenly exploded into a thick cloud. 
“It’s yellow mold!” the old priest warned as Gorak gagged and choked. “Use fire! Destroy it!”
Nessalin quickly fished a flask from his belt and hurled it to the floor. As it struck, it exploded into a pool of alchemical fire that rapidly consumed the mold spores.
“It would seem that ancient guardians aren’t the only thing we need to worry about,” Arioch remarked. “There may just be plenty of old-fashioned monsters and hazards about that will kill us just as efficiently.”

Again, the side chamber offered no means of exit, and so once more the companions returned to the foyer. It seemed the western doors, from beneath which the water seeped, was their only option. Beyond, high walls surrounded an open-air courtyard that was entirely overgrown with wild brush. From amid the dense vegetation rose a single massive stone pillar, sheared off just above the middle tier of the ziggurat. A crumbling staircase arched over the courtyard, descending from the middle tier. The stairway curved around the pillar, then continued into the brush and through a stone arch into darkness. Jack and Gorak led the way, proceeding with caution. They two had gone no more than few steps in, however, when they both came to a halt. Gorak simply stood, blinking in confusion. Jack, however, was horrified to see that his sword had suddenly transformed into a hissing viper! He screamed in disgust, dropping the snake, and then turned and barreled through the others as he fled like the wind. 
“What the…?” Zavasta began, and then he saw it.
At the far corner of the courtyard stood a tall, fleshy plant. As the alchemist’s eyes fell upon it, it began to move.
“It’s a basidirond!” Zav exclaimed. “Its spores are a powerful hallucinogen, but they’re invisible! Hold your breath!”
“To the Hell’s with that!” Arioch sneered. “I’ve got a better idea.”
The summoner opened a circle, and a quartet of whirling air elementals flew through. At their master’s command, they formed themselves into small whirlwinds and went spinning about the courtyard, clearing the poisonous air within seconds. As one of them flew past the killer plant, however, it extended one of its fronds and swatted the elemental to the ground. Then the other three swarmed it and beat it to a pulpy paste. 
“Well that takes care of that,” Arioch said with satisfaction. “Now somebody snap Gorak out of it and go find Jack.”
______________________________________________________________

Beyond the courtyard, the Bastards found themselves in what was obviously the ziggurat’s main hall. Almost half of the cavernous chamber surrounded a smaller, inner structure. The ceiling had collapsed in some places, and a tangle of vines, mosses, and other plants grew in the thick mud that covered the floor.  Three wasps, easily the size of small horses, crawled about the floor, gathering mud and bits of plant matter. When they saw intruders, they buzzed their wings angrily and took to the air.

Gorak, Nessalin and Lyrissa formed a wall, the bard’s voice raised in a battle chorus. Gorak slashed at one of the insects as it flew past, but a second one looped around behind the barbarian and jabbed its stinger through his back. Then Arioch’s elementals entered the fray, and the wasps became preoccupied with the new threat. Nessalin’s sword spit acid as the magus channeled his magic through it, Jack’s twin blades spun in a blur, and Lyrissa’s blade thrust and darted as if it were alive. In a matter of moments, the wasps were down. 

While the others moved to investigate the smaller structure in the center of the main hall, Jack moved towards a small door on the far north wall. The door was unlocked. Beyond,  stairs flanked by broken columns led down to a wide, sunken courtyard. The entire room was set in white marble, trimmed with elaborate inlays of jade and turquoise. Along the south wall, four small, faceless humanoid statues carved from pale, bluish stone hovered above marble display pedestals. Jack moved slowly towards the carvings to get a better view. As he drew closer, he saw that the blank ‘faces’ of the statuettes swirled with a multitude of swirling colors. They were almost…hypnotic…

Gorak peered around the corner of the structure, and for a moment, just stood and stared, speechless. A bulging conglomeration of layered paper and mud completely filled the small room. More of the papery substance clung to the surrounding stonework, securing the mass to the walls, floor, and ceiling. A few feet above the floor, a wide hole burrowed into the structure. From somewhere within, a deep, continuous droning could be heard. Gorak turned and looked at his companions, then shrugged and crawled into the massive nest. The honeycombed passages twisted and turned until ending in a large, inner chamber. There, crouched over a clutch of eggs, was a truly massive wasp, blood-red in color, with wickedly curved spikes and hooks protruding from its carapace. It didn’t take a mental giant, which Gorak certainly was not, to see that the giant queen was not pleased at being disturbed. She rushed towards the barbarian, and though he slashed viciously with his sword as she came, she still managed to thrust her stinger through his leg. He snarled through his tusks, then brought his blade down full force on the embedded stinger, severing it from the queen’s body. She buzzed furiously and began to back away, but Gorak leaped after her and drove his sword through her thorax, pinning her to the wall behind her. Her wings fluttered weakly for a few more moments, then were still.

As Jack continued to stare raptly at the statues, one of them spoke to him.
“Lay down your weapons and await judgment.”
That sounded perfectly reasonable to Jack, so he loosened his weapon cords and laid his swords on the ground. At that moment, Lyrissa entered the chamber, having observed Jack’s surreptitious departure, and, knowing the rogue as she did, became immediately suspicious. When she saw him standing slack-jawed before the statues, the bardess grew wary, but as she turned back towards the door to warn the others, the fascinating weave of colors that played across the faces of the carvings caught her eye.

Gorak crawled back out of the nest, bloodied and gore-covered. 
“I was just about to send the elementals in after you,” Arioch said. “I see that you could take care of yourself.”
The barbarian grunted.
“Where are Jack and Lyrissa?” the summoner asked, just noticing the absence of the two. 
“Can’t speak for the thief,” Agnar said, “but the songstress just went that way.”
He nodded towards the far door.
Arioch walked to the doorway and glanced inside. When he saw his transfixed companions he immediately drew back.
“They’re mesmerized,” he said to the others. “If we go in there, whatever has them will probably take us too. I have an idea.”
He turned to his elemental minions.
“Get in there and, gently, mind you, give those two a shove.”
The elementals bobbed their understanding and whirled into the room. They bumped forcefully into Jack and Lyrissa, buffeting them with their cyclonic winds. Immediately the pair snapped back to themselves and looked around, blinking in confusion. 
“Get out of there!” Arioch shouted. “Cover your eyes!”
Lyrissa darted for the door, but as Jack turned to follow, a ray of light from one of the statues enveloped him, and he found himself rooted to the spot. 
“Damn it!” Arioch cursed. “Destroy the statues!” he commanded the elementals.
They rushed forward, and as they did, the four statues became animate, and unfolded from their seated positions. A flurry of violence ensued, with the elementals whirling about and striking at the statuettes, and being struck in turn as the carvings moved with uncanny speed and precision. In the melee, Jack suddenly found himself free. He snatched up his swords and, instead of doing the intelligent thing and leaving, leaped into the fray. Arioch cursed and rolled his eyes, he cursed even louder as Gorak and Nessalin rushed past him and threw themselves into the chaos. As they did, however, the statues turned on them. One after another, the constructs unleashed red beams at the three Bastards, and as the light struck them, each of them suddenly shrank to half their size. Still, that didn’t stop the warriors. Within moments, the tide of the battle was turned, and one after another, the statues were smashed to pieces. As they were destroyed, however, something truly remarkable happened: images began appearing in the air of the chamber, showing four intricately carved pillars, each associated with a different celestial force…the moon, the sun, the stars, and the darkness in between. Instinctively, the Bastards knew what they were being shown: a combination to unlock a map to Savinth-Yhi. They also knew that the moonstone they’d recovered from the charau-ka was a key to the combination as well. They had only to find the pillars, as well as the three other stones.
____________________________________________________________


Beyond the main hall, the companions found themselves in a small, dark room that was flooded with stagnant water. The walls and ceiling were carved from a darker stone than they’d seen in the rest of the building, and were covered with numerous intertwining carvings that depicted nameless and disturbing creatures. Stone stairs rose out of the water to disappear through the south wall above two stone doors. Arioch sent his remaining elementals ahead to investigate the chamber, but when they entered the water, they immediately found themselves swarmed by thousands of leeches. At the summoner’s command, the elementals whirled themselves into vortexes that still touched the water, forming small water spouts. They then sucked the leeches from the pool and deposited them, flapping and helpless, upon the stone floor of the main hall. Arioch them called a pair of fire elementals to him and commanded them to set the parasites ablaze. Once the room was free of danger, Agnar was able to identify the carvings on the wall as representations of the alien gods of the Dark Tapestry, the lightless void between the stars.

Through the doors that flanked the stone stairs was another small chamber. A huge circle of grayish-white stone covered the floor in its center. It was inscribed with detailed carvings of geographical features. Mosaic friezes that ran along the top and bottom of the walls depicted warriors in archaic armor battling a race of snake-headed people under dark skies. It wasn’t hard for Agnar to determine that the carving on the floor was a representation of the moon. So, they had found shrines to the stars, the sun, the Dark Tapestry, and the moon. Now they had to find the pillars they’d seen in the visions from the idols. The only way left to go was up.


The Bastards emerged from the stairs on the outside of the second tier of the ziggurat. Directly in front of them was a heavy stone door that apparently led back into the interior of the pyramid. Gorak, thankfully having regained his normal stature, shoved the door, but found it stuck fast. He leaned into it and heaved, but still had no luck. Finally, Lyrissa pulled a crowbar from her pack  and together they managed to wedge the portal open. Beyond, a wide room had a high, arched ceiling painted with fading pastel swirls. Its walls were carved with seemingly random combinations of branching lines, connected to patterns of overlapping circles of various sizes. Along the opposite wall, a flight of stairs led up to the next tier. What immediately caught the attention of the barbarian and the bard, however, was the serpent-headed creature, clothed in brilliant red robes, who clung to the wall like a giant spider near the room’s ceiling. 

“What? What do you see?” Arioch called from outside.
Before he received an answer, however, a screeching cacophony sounded from around the right side of the ziggurat. Arioch glanced that way and saw a pair of charau-ka charging towards him. One of them went to all-fours and charged right into the summoner, sinking its teeth into his arm. At the exact same moment, two more of the ape-men came rushing into the room with the serpent-man from an archway on the far side. Right behind them came a truly massive creature. Superficially, it resembled a gorilla, but its bone-white fur and additional pair of arms identified it as something much more. Two more charau-ka leaped down the stairs into the chamber, while outside, to make bad matters worse, a giant hornet rose above the ledge of the tier, droning in anger at both the Bastards and their opponents.

Arioch stumbled away from the attacking charau-ka, and hastily opened a circle. His other minions had long-since departed back to their home planes, and so he called another quartet of earth elementals to his side. Two of them immediately set upon the charau-ka, beating it to the ground and then tossing it over the side of the pyramid. The other two seized the second ape-man and broke its neck and spine with crushing blows of their fists. Meanwhile, inside the room, Gorak rushed to meet one of the charau-ka coming down the stairs.  It swung at him with its club, but the big barbarian batted the blow aside and ran the monkey through with his sword. As it fell back, Gorak surged forward, rage consuming him as horns sprouted from his brow. He lowered his head and gored the second charau-ka, then finished it off as it tried to escape his wrath. Below, Lyrissa moved into the room to cover Gorak’s back, but as she stepped in, the girallon loomed over her. Before she could raise her sword in defense, it lunged for her, seizing her arm in its mouth, and then sweeping her legs from under her with one massive paw. The last thing she saw before oblivion was the monster’s other three paws descending towards her.

Arioch saw the writing on the wall. The girallon was going to kill them all if left to its own devices. He ordered his elementals into the room, and then called three more to back them up. As they rolled in, one of the remaining two charau-ka warriors leaped at them, and smashed one of them to rubble in a frenzy of violence. The others swarmed past the ape-man and surrounded the girallon, harrying it from all sides. The great ape brought one massive fist down upon one of them and crushed it to dust. Then Jack, also back to normal, came tumbling into the room and rolled to his feet behind the beast. Gorak leaped down the stairs and caught its attention from the front. The pair struck simultaneously, and the elementals rushed in as well. The combined fury of the assault brought the four-armed brute down within seconds. Then the elementals turned their attention to the pair of screaming charau-ka. Fearless, the ape-men hurled themselves at the stony outsiders, but their efforts were in vain, and they were buried under an avalanche of fists. Suddenly, a flash of scorching fire streaked from above, setting Jack’s clothes ablaze. He yelped and rolled on the floor to extinguish himself, and then looked up. He could see the serpentfolk sorcerer already lining up for another shot.

Zavasta cursed roundly. All of the heavy hitters were otherwise occupied, leaving only himself standing between one pissed off giant wasp and the squishies, Agnar and Nkechi. The alchemist was out of bombs. All he had was steel. Cursing again, he unfurled his wings, drew his sword, and charged. Meanwhile, as Arioch finally started to breath a bit easier, his heart suddenly fell again as he saw another half-dozen charau-ka swarming over the edge of the tier. In desperation, for he had expired his summoning ability for the day, he conjured a pool of greasy fluid in front of the charging apes. It bought him some time as they fell, slipping, screaming and biting in the goo. 
“Gorak!” he shouted. “We’ve got trouble!!”

Gorak didn’t question. He simply came charging out, and came face to face with the shrieking horde. Even though they were scrambling to get to their feet, they still managed to flail their clubs at the big barbarian, keeping him momentarily at bay…at least until he could bring his sword to bear and began cutting them down. 

Agnar, in the mean time, was at loose ends. Lyrissa was down, but still in the thick of things. He couldn’t reach her. There were a great deal of dead charau-ka around, but animating them would only gain him temporary cannon fodder. If he could only reach the lovely corpse of the girallon. He glanced into the room and saw Jack trying to dodge for his life the barrage of the snake-head sorcerer still clinging to the ceiling, where it was safely out of reach of the elementals. He had an idea. With a quick prayer, he tossed a simple dispelling charm at the serpentman, and just like that, the sorcerer lost his grip and plummeted to the floor. He climbed shakily to his feet, but by that time the elementals were upon him. One drove a fist into his gut, doubling him over, but the sorcerer was as fast as a snake. He recovered and darted to the side, then hissed a spell and unleashed a scorching bolt of lightning that instantly obliterated two of the elementals, ripped through Jack, and even managed to jolt Gorak standing outside the door.

Gorak shook off the blast, his rage all-consuming. He hacked apart another charau-ka as the rest scrambled free of the grease and swarmed him, hammering with their clubs. Still, they were children facing a titan. The barbarian roared and laid about him with his sword, simultaneously lowering his head and goring with his horns. Blood dripping from him, both his own and that of his opponents, he put down the last of the ape-men, and then turned back towards the inner chamber.

The elementals continued to pursue the sorcerer, landing occasional lucky blows. Then, he loosed another lightning bolt, and destroyed them all. Agnar chose that moment to dart into the room. While the sorcerer was distracted, he laid his hands upon the body of the girallon and channeled dark energy into it. With a roar, the great beast arose, lurching to its feet. The sorcerer realized too late what had happened. He turned and spread his hands, unleashing a cone of fire at the new zombie and Agnar. He saw Gorak stalk into the room, and turned his serpentine eyes upon the barbarian.
“This fight is no longer yours,” he hissed. “Your companions are lost. Save yourself.”
Gorak looked confused for a moment, and then he simply shrugged and walked away.
Suddenly, the zombified girallon loomed up behind the sorcerer and wrapped its four arms around him, lifting him into the air. He struggled feebly to break free, but then Jack was there, thrusting both his blades through the sorcerer’s chest. His struggles ceased.

Zavasta came shambling around the corner of the tier, dragging the body of the wasp behind him.
“What’d I miss?” he grumbled.


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## JollyDoc (Nov 6, 2011)

*Saventh-Yhi*

As it turned out, the sorcerer had the other three moonstones in his possession, and in the chamber behind his, a circular grid formed with deep grooves sat in the center of the floor beneath a domed ceiling decorated with crystalline patterns. Four elaborately carved columns stood in passageways at either end, one to the north, and three to the south in a triangular arrangement. They had found the Pillars of Light. Nessalin recognized the patterns on the ceiling as constellations, though they were slightly distorted...perhaps from another time? The columns themselves were carved with elaborate arcane symbols and etchings, each one representing one of four celestial bodies or forces…the sun, the moon, the stars, and the Dark Tapestry. Each one contained several deep holes bored into sections that swiveled around a central shaft. Thanks to the memories imparted by the Azlanti idols, the Bastards knew exactly how to set the stones within the columns, and how to orient them properly. Once that was done, a shaft of sunlight struck the first stone in the southernmost column, which then sent our three beams of light…yellow, blue and purple…to the other three stones in their respective columns. Those stones then emitted their own beams of light. The northern column pinpointed a spot on the floor grid, while the two remaining columns radiated shifting beams in the air above the grid. As the light beams illuminated the room, a hazy image appeared in the air above the grid. It showed an ancient city of towering ziggurats and crumbling, vine-choked buildings around a central lake, filling a hidden valley…the lost city of Saventh-Yhi.
______________________________________________________________


The following day, Agnar sent a mental message to Dargan Etters, the commander of the Aspis Consortium expedition. He informed the mage that they had found the path to Saventh-Yhi, but that they wanted to rendezvous with the rest of the expedition some five miles in the opposite direction. It was their plan to try and throw off any of the other factions who might be on their tail. That task was given to Jask, who backtracked along their path and laid a false trail. Unbeknownst to his companions, however, he also left subtle clues for Aerys Mavato, showing his erstwhile ally the true path.

Later that afternoon, the Bastards rejoined the Consortium’s expedition, and were celebrated by Etters as well as the rank and file. By dawn the following morning, the expedition had covered the mere twenty miles that lay between Tazion and the hidden valley that contained Saventh-Yhi.  They followed a minor, nameless tributary of the Ocota River, and at one point, the river seemed to emerge from the side of a jungle cliff at a height of over sixty feet. There they found an ancient and overgrown series of trails that led to the top of the falls. Clearing the trails enough for the entire company to pass, however, looked to be the work of days. Dargan Etters told the Bastards to forge ahead and see if the city was truly just ahead. He and the rest of the expedition would catch up to them within a few days. The companions agreed, and Agnar ferried them up to the top of the falls one-by-one aboard his zombified geir. Once there, the river split for a short distance, flowing around a jungle-covered hillock. An open area just south of the hill would make an excellent staging area for the expedition once they made their way up. A narrow trail picked up not far to the south, connecting to a more overgrown road down below that continued southeast.  

The strangely preserved road led into a narrow cleft in the jungle-choked ridges, forcing the river into a swiftly flowing rapid through the gorge. The road split there, offering two methods onward…below, a slippery-looking path of wooden bridges connecting small islands, while above, a rickety rope bridge swung in the air. The Bastards opted for the high road, with Agnar offering to again ferry the others across the gorge rather than trusting to the questionable bridge. He’d managed to get Gorak and Jack to the far side, while Zavasta flew across carrying Lyrissa, when the attack came. High-pitched shrieks sounded from further up the gorge as a trio of flying reptiles took to the air and hurtled towards them. They were larger, fiercer versions of the small pterosaur raptors they’d encountered on Smuggler’s Shiv, and they looked hungry. Arioch, still on the near side of the gorge, quickly sent out a call, and six air elementals answered. They swarmed towards the pteranodons, swooping and pummeling them, sending the creatures scrambling. They snapped at the elementals as they passed, but they continued on a bee-line towards the more tasty-looking morsels ahead. By that time, however, Gorak had begun running along the edge of the gorge, and as one of the dinosaurs flew close, he lashed out with his sword and sent it crashing into the rocks below. Meanwhile, Nessalin wove a spell of flight about himself, and took to the air, charging towards another of the beasts. As it banked towards him, he slashed his scimitar through its wing, and it too spiraled down into the ravine. By the time the final pterosaur reached the bridge, the air elementals had caught up to it, and beat it out of the sky. As the Bastards looked on, they saw several large crocodiles emerge from the river below to devour the unexpected feast.
_____________________________________________________________


As the road continued through the valley, the first signs of habitation began to appear. Sparse stone ruins, their roofs open to the sky and their walls thick with vines, perched next to three crystal blue pools in a circular, bowl-shaped hollow through which the ancient highway passed. Zavasta was the first to point out what should have been obvious.
“You hear that?” he asked.
“I don’t hear anything,” Nessalin replied.
“Exactly,” the alchemist sneered. “We’re in the middle of a jungle. Have been for weeks. We’ve been hearing non-stop shrieks, hoots, whistles… you name it. Now I don’t hear a peep. There aren’t even any bugs around here, and I’ve been practically eaten alive up until now.”
“Ants,” Gorak grunted.
“What?” Zavasta snapped.
“Ants,” the barbarian pointed.
The alchemist looked, and sure enough, there were a few reddish army ants prowling along the stones. As he watched, more of them began to appear, and then, in the blink of an eye, thousands simply swarmed out of the walls and the ground, enveloping Jack and Gorak.
“Get them off me!” Jack screamed, while Gorak snarled and slapped madly at himself
Jack suddenly doubled over and vomited violently as the ants began to work their way into his mouth and nostrils. 
“Stand back!” Zavasta shouted to the others.
The alchemist knew that the best way to deal with vermin was to burn them. He hurled a fire bomb into the swarm, knowing he’d be burning his allies as well, but trusting they’d rather be a bit singed than devoured. The bomb burst, but to Zavasta’s utter disbelief and horror, the flames didn’t seem to touch the ants at all. They simply passed right through the fire as if it wasn’t there.

Suddenly, a figure simple stepped out of a wall near the rogue and barbarian. He might have been a half-orc once…when he was alive, but now his body was decayed and riddled with rot, and ants crawled over every surface of him. 
“It’s mine, Pathfinder!” he screamed, pointing one bony finger at Jack. “I found it! The city is mine!”
He leaped towards the helpless rogue, and literally plunged his fist straight through Jack’s chest. There was no blood, rather he seemed to pass his flesh right into Jack’s, and a moment later the rogue’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed. Arioch still had his air elementals with him, and as Jack went down, he sent them whirling at the undead half-orc. Their fists flew like the wind, but no blow connected with solid flesh. Instead, the creature flung his arms wide and ants by the thousands landed upon the elementals and ate them out of existence within seconds. Horrified, Arioch quickly leaned down and seized Jack’s arm. Rather than drag the rogue to safety, however, the summoner spoke an arcane word and the two vanished in a flash of light. 
“He’s a ghost!” Lyrissa shouted. “Our weapons and magic can’t harm him! Gorak, stand still! I’m coming to you!”
The barbarian didn’t move, but he was anything but still as he continued to thrash about madly at the ghostly ants that bit at his flesh. When Lyrissa reached him, she reached out and laid her hands upon his sword, singing softly as she did so. Before Gorak’s astonished eyes, his great sword became transparent and ephemeral, though it still felt solid enough in his hands.
“Kill him now!” the bardess shouted at the barbarian, pointing towards the ghost.
Gorak didn’t need to be told twice. Despite the swarm still clinging to him, he leaped at the spectral half-orc, his sword coming down in a broad chop. The blade bit and slashed deeply into the ghost. He screamed, genuine fear in his eyes as his body felt pain for the first time in centuries. 
“No!” he shrieked. “That’s not possible.”
Gorak’s only reply was to keep hacking, again and again and again, until finally, the specter faded away to nothingness, taking his ghostly swarm with him.

“Boy, you must have the luck of the gods themselves,” Arioch said as Jack, to his utter disbelief, opened his eyes. 
The two were several dozen yards away from the battle, where the summoner had transported them to relative safety.
“Besmara likes me,” the rogue grinned weakly. “She says I’m her favorite.”
“I can believe it,” Arioch shook his head. “Come on. Let’s get back to the others.”

As Agnar tended Jack and Gorak’s wounds, Arioch summoned Minion to his side, and commanded the little eidolon to scour the area for any signs of the ghost. Agnar had been quick to point out that one did not simply kill a ghost. They were cursed to walk the earth until some set event released their souls forever. It might be gone, but it would return before long. 
“Why did he call you Pathfinder?” the priest asked Jack suspiciously.
“I’d guess because of this,” Jack replied, pulling the Wayfinder from beneath his shirt. “I picked it up from the guys who ambushed us in Kalabuto. “My question is, why did he care?”
“Master!” Minion interrupted. “I found something!”
He was standing a short distance away, and pointing towards a shadowy corner of a nearby ruined building. There lay an ancient skeleton, the remains of a long-rotted bag nearby, with an assortment of gems, coins and other artifacts spilling out of it. On one finger it wore a ring, a bronze band covered in geometric shapes and studded with tiny pearls. Clutched in that same hand was a leather-bound journal. Nessalin could sense strong magic emanating from the ring, and as he pried the journal loose, he slipped the ring onto his finger. 
___________________________________________________________

The journal belonged to one Nareem Daress, a scout for the Alithorpe Expedition, a group of Pathfinders who’d set out in search of Saventh-Yhi two centuries earlier, and had never been heard from again. According to the journal, the expedition ran afoul of the soldiers of the Gorilla King on the shores of Lake Ocota. At the urging of Daress, a small group of them had abandoned the rest and fled through the jungle for several days, relentlessly pursued by charau-ka. Only by seeking shelter among these hidden cenotes did they finally throw off their pursuit. When the Pathfinders realized where they were, that they’d discovered what could only be Saventh-Yhi, they’d spent a few days exploring the fringes of the city. Then treachery struck again. Daress apparently lured the remaining Pathfinders into a nest of army ants and watched them die. From his notes, it appeared that he’d intended to leave Saventh-Yhi with his maps, and return to civilization as the lone survivor of the Alithorpe Expedition and secure the glory of discovering the ancient ruins for himself. There, his journal ended, and it was obvious that he never left, but rather fell victim to his own deceit.

“So I suppose to lay his spirit to rest, we would have to insure that he received credit for being the first to discover Saventh-Yhi,” Nessalin said as he closed the journal.
“Then I guess that’s one spirit that’s going to be walking the earth for a long, long time,” Agnar grinned evilly.
“Still, we need to warn the expedition to stay clear of this place,” Arioch said. 
“I bet the Pathfinders would pay well to see this journal and find out what became of their lost expedition,” Jack mused.
“That’s going to be kind of difficult after I use those pages for toilet paper,” Zavasta snarled.
____________________________________________________________


It wasn’t very far beyond the haunted cenotes when the Inglorious Bastards first laid eyes upon the former glory of the Azlanti Empire, Saventh-Yhi. The first thing they noticed when they saw the skyline, were the seven spears. Protruding from the already lofty tops of seven massive ziggurats, the narrow monoliths extended high into the sky, each of them seeming to mark the heart of a separate district of the city. Nestled in a cradle of sheer cliffs thick with jungle vines and brushed with wisps of fog, the seven districts of Saventh-Yhi were arrayed around a large central lake. The buildings were clearly weathered and worn, but most seemed to have resisted the encroachment of plants and mud, and they’d refused to crumble, appearing as a ruin of only a few thousand years rather than over ten-thousand. The architectural style was remarkable, marked by massive guardian sculptures and intricate geometric patterns carved into the stone. Up close, countless individual carvings and murals decorated the inner walls of the buildings the companions passed as they made their way into the ancient metropolis.

As the Bastards entered the first of the city’s districts, it became apparent that the area had fared worse than the rest of city. A significant portion of it seemed to have subsided back into the central lake. From the murals and carvings they saw as they wandered the eerily empty streets, the neighborhood must have once been the mercantile district. Strangely, as they walked along the wide thoroughfares, past buildings that must have once been grand scenes of trade and commerce, all of them felt something odd overcome them, almost as if they could feel coins passing through their hands, and the thrill of the haggle. To Nessalin, the sensation was even more acute. He felt himself unconsciously assessing the value of the statuary they passed, and even the various adornments that his companions wore. He could also sense the palpable magic that permeated the air around them . He knew instinctively that this feeling emanated from the ring that he wore.

After awhile, they came upon a low, single-story building that was almost completely overgrown by thick vines and surrounded by a forest of sharp stakes on which had been impaled numerous small, simian skulls. Full skeletons, held together by strips of flesh and sinew, hung from stakes higher on the building’s walls. 
“Looks like we may not have been the first ones here after all,” Jack said quietly.
Suddenly, a half-dozen shadowy figures appeared on the roof, and in the empty doorways of the building. They were ape-like in form, but stood over six-feet tall, with long, powerful claws on their oversized hands, leathery greenish-brown skin covered by splotches of brown, and wide mouths filled with jagged teeth. With uncanny and eerie silence, they swung down from the roof, and came loping through the vines, moving with deadly grace. The Bastards had not survived so long by letting shock or surprise get in the way of survival. Jack, Gorak, Lyrissa and Nessalin moved to intercept the creatures, while Arioch did what he did best. In the blink of an eye, a pair of snorting aurochs came stampeding out of thin air, charging forward, heads lowered, and trampled two of the creatures beneath their hooves. Despite their obvious pain, evidenced by their battered and bloodied bodies, the ape-eaters remained silent, rolled back to their feet and kept coming. The battle was fierce, bloody and the oddest thing Zavasta had ever seen. He and his companions were the only ones making any noise. They shouted orders to one another, spoke the words to their spells or, in Lyrissa’s case, sang battle hymns to rally their spirits. The aurochs snorted and bellowed as they charged around the street, but the creature’s they fought made not a single sound, even as they began to die. The initial six were soon joined by a dozen more. They were savage and brutal, ripping into exposed flesh with their teeth, and rending with their vicious claws, but their own bodies could only take so much sharpened steel, acid, horns, hooves and electricity before they succumbed. Finally, after several minutes that seemed like hours, the Bastards stood, their breath coming in ragged gasps, amid a mound of corpses. 
“So,” Jack said after several moments, “I guess the whole ‘explore the ruins, find the treasure and get paid’ idea isn’t going to be as easy as we thought.”


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## JollyDoc (Nov 14, 2011)

I need to apologize, loyal readers, but I'm afraid this thread is going on hiatus for the time being. It's getting more and more difficult for me to keep up with it, putting me further and further behind. What I may do is to post periodic summaries of the events transpiring in the AP, so that you can keep up with the exploits of our (anti) heroes, but as far as detailed stories...not right now. Once again, my apologies.


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## Dax Thura (Nov 15, 2011)

Say it isn't so.


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## Joachim (Nov 15, 2011)

Joe, you know that winners never quit and quitters never win, right?


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## Tamlyn (Nov 15, 2011)

Selfishly speaking, I'm disappointed since this is one of only a few story hours that are (were) both regularly updated and worth reading.

But speaking as a fellow human who also has a job/family/life/and a game to run, I completely understand. 

JD, we get it and we support you. Whether you're able to throw out full narrations or sporadic summaries, we'll be here to enjoy it.

Thanks for what you've shared with us in the past and for what you will share in the future.


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## carborundum (Nov 22, 2011)

JD, I completely understand. My own SH died the death of slowly petering out after the baby and the new job engulfed my life. It all started after reading your STAP SH and it remains an inspiration for our (now-more-than-half-way) STAP campaign. 

Any time you feel like dropping an update, I'll devour it with glee. In the meantime, have fun, don't work too hard, have a smell the odd daisy... all the best matey!


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## Draco Bahamut (Nov 24, 2011)

Really wish that i could do something to keep your story hour as it was. That´s because i really love your work here. But i know life is short and complicated, so i wish sucess and luck for Jollydoc and his players. Even if we can´t read about it, i wish that you all have a lot of fun, at least, playing it. 

Thank you.


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## Schmoe (Jan 16, 2012)

JollyDoc said:


> I need to apologize, loyal readers, but I'm afraid this thread is going on hiatus for the time being. It's getting more and more difficult for me to keep up with it, putting me further and further behind. What I may do is to post periodic summaries of the events transpiring in the AP, so that you can keep up with the exploits of our (anti) heroes, but as far as detailed stories...not right now. Once again, my apologies.




Oh no!  I just caught up with this story, too.  Ah well, I fully understand how difficult it is to write these.  Given how well your SH installments are written, it's no wonder you find yourself running out of time.  It looks like the party has been having fun, and that's the most important thing.  I really like Jack's character, too.  His braggadocio is very entertaining and a refreshing change of pace 

Before reading this SH, I knew next to nothing about the Serpent's Skull AP.  Now that I've done a little research I'm curious to hear about how the exploration of Saventh-Yhi has gone.  The reviews I've read about that part of the AP are pretty poor, and it seems there may have been some sort of problem in development.  It was initially just supposed to be written by Kevin Kulp.  Isn't that PirateCat here on ENWorld?  He always had a great campaign and even wrote a very highly-regarded module a while back.  I wonder what happened.  Did your group have the same low opinion of the adventure as the reviews I read?  Some of the criticism seemed rather harsh and I couldn't find a play-thru review, just read-thru reviews.

Anyway, game on!


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## Joachim (Jan 21, 2012)

Not Jollydoc, but I can answer your questions from a player perspective...

I will admit that the the Saventh-Yhi portions of the module have been less than exciting to this point.  A bunch of disjointed encounter areas (without so much as even encounter maps) with little to do with each other has taken away from it.  Throw in the fact that this is supposed to be a big treasure hunt, but there is very little treasure to be found, and you have a head-scratcher.  With one to two encounters a day, spell casters really shine over martial types because there is ZERO need for resource management.

The biggest disappointment for me was the system they use to resolve conflicts between camps.  No matter how much you plan, strategize, or prepare, it simply comes down to a single opposed d20 roll.  You could almost just pull out a coin and say, "Heads you win, tails you lose."  It would be no less engaging than what they have in place.

We are in the Vault section of the AP, and it seems to be improving somewhat, although I really am kind of nonplussed by the add-on mental illness component.  It doesn't really add anything to the game outside of player frustration.


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## carborundum (Jan 23, 2012)

I liked the Vault stuff more when I skimmed it - some spectacular challenges in there ;-)

If you guys do Jade Regent I'd love to hear the occasional snippet. all I've read so far is splendiferous!

Happy New Year to you all!


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## Hammerhead (Nov 7, 2012)

*One Year Since Update...*

...and that's sad. 

So what did you guys think of Serpent's Skull? Meh? 

Any plans to create another Story Hour? I like these so much I've put them on my Kindle.


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