|
|
Post by Humble Chris on Apr 30, 2022 2:42:39 GMT
For the city of Vynne, Lorenzo Altia is a modest merchant. His company only owns a half dozen seaworthy vessels, for one - including the very one you find yourself on right now. The caravel, Mother’s Pride, may be cramped and in need of repair, but she is the jewel in Lorenzo’s crown. With the large ballista at the bow and an array of small cannon tucked on the decks below, she is also the mightiest vessel and flagship of Lorenzo’s personal fleet. It is not every day that he gets to take out his personal warship and sail the open waters beyond his home. But today is not like every day. It is generous to call Lorenzo Altia, like his merchant business or the ship you find yourself on, a modest man. Everything about the man is firmly in the middle - a human showing all the signs and wear of a portly body settling comfortably into middle age, his graying hairline has receded not quite enough for him to start wearing a wig; although he keeps his loose black and red hat on just the right spot. His velvet fur-lined coat and the doublet underneath are gaudy to mark him as wealthy, but not so decorated that one could mistaken him for aristocracy. Even the man’s demeanor projects mediocrity - the veneer of authority so thin one can see the uncertainty beneath. It made one wonder how exactly he had managed to attain his wealth. But these are thoughts far from your mind at the moment. Diving into the Vynnetian grapevine had borne fruit in revealing that Lorenzo Altia was in need of help recovering some lost cargo. One of his ships had gone missing on a three days journey from Vynne, in an area known for harsh storms and harsher terrain. Large rocks and scopulai jut from the water like the broken teeth of some ancient long-dead leviathan, some of them taller than the ship’s main mast. At last the ship closes in on a spot that looks promising: a long outcropping of rocks and shoals that form one of the larger islands in the immediate area. The cracked, broken remains of a ship can be seen far on the other side of the island. The markings match those of The Sleepy Milkmaid, but Lorenzo dares not risk grazing Mother’s Pride on any unseen rocks beneath. Instead, he has asked you and your friends to board one of the rowboats and make landfall - see if the ship is indeed his own. After a half hour of riding rough waters, you finally make it to shore. The marooned ship seems to be two hundred feet from where you have set down. High above you, the long gray clouds start to blacken and rumble, signaling the oncoming approach of a storm. |
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on Apr 30, 2022 3:56:25 GMT
"Hopefully it wasn't nymphs."
The cleric muttered to themselves, the ship rocking as they slid over the edge of the rowboat. With the conditions of the water they had opted not to put on their armour until arrival, not wishing to drown is a fantastic fashion if the boat had tipped. Lavandul was only all right with water if they could see the bottom, given some deep memories of foolish youth. They were glad for the mask that hid their grim and miserable expression for the entire trip, and they put their disdain for the whole business into hauling the boat ashore as the waves lapped to take it back. Maybe they were moving a little faster than necessary.
"We should do a sweep of the immediate area before we start digging around," they grunted, all business as they were colder than usual.
Ice cracked as their bare toes sunk into the wet sand, cloak and shirt billowing with the wind churning the sea. They lifted their mask as they squinted at the sky in a lip-scarred sneer.
|
|
Korruk
Visitor
Name: Korruk Logar Race: Orc Class/Level: Paladin 2 XP: 480 Maximum HP: 21 Alignment: Lawful Good
Posts: 98 
|
Post by Korruk on Apr 30, 2022 5:08:11 GMT
The knight had donned his weapons and armour before setting off the boat, risking to be engulfed by the sea but knowing that if there was ill will on the beach it was better to be prepared than not. Reaching their landing spot the Orc was second from their small vessel, heavy boot leaving divots of footprints, his frame all the more imposing as he wore both the armour and coat he had normally worn separately.
“Nymphs or not, we’ll make short work of them either way - if there is a them and this isn’t some case of the weather playing tricks.”
His tracked the coast line,
“Sand and shale. Nothing on the prowl it look like, but the rocky outcropping inland are a perfect spot to skulk in and watch.”
The playful tone the Orc often carried seemed more mellow as he was taking the situation with caution, showing he was more than just some reckless noble when they were no longer in the arena.
|
|
|
|
Post by Cyrus on Apr 30, 2022 5:45:41 GMT
Cyrus of Ghent never looked this good in his entire life.
Bedecked in beautiful half-plate armor and topped with a fine leather hat with a black feather coming out the top -- freshly paid for courtesy of the taxpayers of Vynne -- the Aasimar had spent a lot of time at the bow of the caravel on the trip toward the island. With one foot up on the railing and leaning over his own leg as the early passage went by, it was about a day before the pirate with the massive montante did much else other than preen. Fortunes fell, but sometimes, they rose. The Prince's largesse had been one such moment, and he had come away with new armor, new weapons, and a down payment on a small house near the Docks.
Was this what going legit was like? No wonder some people were total sellouts who ended up privateers. The Red Saint dismissed the notion. People like him didn't get to live in peace or end up in some noble house's payroll. That was where freedom went to die. As the rowboat found the wet sand of the beach, Cyrus decided one day he was going to steal Altia's ship.
But not now. Now, he had rent to pay. With a sailor's recollection, he turned his mind to recalling the chart information he knew about the area. He had his huge sword idly in hand, leaning on his shoulder.
"Eyes peeled. Stick tight."
|
|
|
|
Post by Humble Chris on Apr 30, 2022 13:59:11 GMT
The march on the rocks and shoals is a slow, painful process for the trio. With the tide out, a stench of rot wafts over them, but whether the smell is from the dead of the ocean or the lost crew is a mystery until the party stumbles upon the first corpses.
The bloated body is dressed in the same style of clothing as the sailors who served aboard Mother's Pride - clothes that at one point would have fit loose on its frame now stretched under the distended body and were torn in a number of places. A family of crabs could be seen feasting upon the rotting innards from an opening in the abdomen, but it is hard to tell if it was caused from a weapon or the guts spilling out in death.
Two more corpses lay close to the first; one very near a complete skeleton where the scavengers have picked it clean. The other seems to be holding a broken cutlass.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on May 1, 2022 5:42:49 GMT
"Can someone help me with my armour? Now that I am not concerned about something from the ocean capsizing us?"
It was an idle request, but certainly faster than doing it all themselves. Once they were properly suited up for surprises, they continued to aid the hastier races.
"An hour or two before heavy rain and the tide is in," the Dominé warned. In their dour mood, they expected a horrifying plague or for corpses to reach from the sands. The chain around their neck clinked quietly in their fist as they held it aloft, slowly circling the reliquary like a crystal wand to divine traces of magic. Eyes flared with faerie fire behind the lenses, before the cold flame pulsed in the afterimage of a sphere around them. They trailed around, trusting Korruk but keeping to the eye of an investigator and extra sensory sensitivity to all things arcane. The outside of the boat was circled before they made their way back to the bodies.
Overlooking the corpses, their mouth twisted despite their experience with such sights. A prayer in elvish was offered as they worked, though the hand clinically pulled away the crabs without flinching. They had seen much worse.
"The fact that no gulls are about is bothering me," they noted aloud.
|
|
Korruk
Visitor
Name: Korruk Logar Race: Orc Class/Level: Paladin 2 XP: 480 Maximum HP: 21 Alignment: Lawful Good
Posts: 98
|
Post by Korruk on May 1, 2022 20:59:59 GMT
In line with his knightly oath to fend off the unnatural evils that plagued the Empire Korruk opened his divine senses - meant to pinpoint foul creatures and monsters which would threaten the natural order the Imperial Legions sought to gift the world.
No foul scents, nor crawling sensation beneath his skin, but the creeping sense of dread and unease would linger as he glanced around.
"Rest assured they will not rise, but beyond a shadow of a doubt there was malicious intent wrought upon them, and I don't think their assailants are too far gone."
Cautious eyes would make sure the cleric was covered, not letting anyone get the jump on them as shield and axe were made ready.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on May 2, 2022 16:01:25 GMT
|
|
|
|
Post by Humble Chris on May 3, 2022 2:19:54 GMT
Lavandul's Findings
Lifting their mask to get a better look, the harsh stench emanating from the corpses makes Lavandul cough and scrunch their nose in displeasure. The task is unsavory, but necessary if they were to identify these poor souls - or better, discover what brought about their grisly end.
Looking over the first, "freshest" corpse out of the three, Lavandul turns the arms of the sailor. From the putrid look of the skin and smell coming from them, the corpse had to be a week, maybe a week and a half old. This tracks with what the portly merchant told them about how the Sleepy Milkmaid had vanished two weeks before. They notice the tracks of bruised flesh and the broken bones jutting from crushed, broken skin. It looked as though a pair of vices held the poor sailor aloft as whatever sharp implement went to work slicing open the belly, spilling out the guts the creature had so hungrily feasted upon. Yes, it had to be a creature - something large, almost as large as the men, if not more. But if it was solitary or part of a pack was hard to tell.
From the disjointed positioning of the bodies and relation to one another, Lavandul deduces that this was no coordinated attack. There was no thought here, no planning - only unbridled savagery and an animal instinct to attack. In addition to the broken cutlass, Lavandul noticed at least two more broken axes, discarded amongst the chaos and rusted over from laying in a wide yet shallow pool nearby. The way the blades cracked and shattered was not like how weapons react when turned by armour; and any protection that could do that is either expensive or born natural.
Slowly the pieces of the crew's final hours begin to form their macabre picture: the three men, likely the only survivors, had gone hunting for food and stumbled upon the lair of the island's predator - a creature that can apparently pursue, kill and eat three armed men with little trouble.
Movement from the fresher corpse makes Lavandul pause. Korruk has just asserted that there is no necromantic energies present to rouse the bodies, and their own casting has shown no arcane forces, either. With Korruk's help, Lavandul opens the cavity in the man's chest more and sees, buried deep in the other side of the corpse's ribcage: half a dozen dull gray orbs, roughly the same size as a chicken's egg. Each one, however, is covered in a thick clear membrane that glisten. Some of the scavenging crabs have gotten close enough to touch the eggs, and have gotten stuck in the membranes; frozen in the viscous fluid within like flies in amber.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on May 3, 2022 4:15:39 GMT
"They've been dead for at least a week, so..." they ran the math as they thought out loud, learning from Smiles' complaints that long stretches of silence were unhelpful and, in fact, wasted time.
"They were crushed by something similar in height but obviously more powerful, physically. Maybe a sizeable crustacean's claw, but that's a guess, given the heavy armour that could be chitin or scales. The creature feasts on offal rather than the skin, fat and bone marrow. They might have run afoul with the poor conditions of the beach and then attracted local wildlife while stranded and searching for fresh water and food."
As the line of mucous threads from them holding the egg aloft, they sighed deeply in a flurry of snaps and cracks from the wet sand crystalizing in the cold. "Unfortunate. I cannot salvage the corpses for the families. A controlled burn will allow me to at least return the ashes."
They moved away to pour alcohol on their gloves, before taking one off to wipe the errant blood escaping from their nostril when their mind buzzed. Colours popped to the rhythm of their heartbeat, and details churned with a heavy tiredness and vertigo. They swore quietly as they drew a complete blank and fumbled with basic recall.
|
|
|
|
Post by Cyrus on May 3, 2022 4:33:02 GMT
Cyrus looked like he felt a little sick, though he was trying his best to Act Tough. Digging around in corpses was a lot. He was a pirate, not a doctor or a chirurgeon, and though he had on occasion eviscerated someone, it wasn't to put eggs in them. That part really fucked with him, and he stepped back.
"Fuckin' burn 'em. Jester's giblets, that's rank..."
He turned away, focusing his attention on something else, on the description of the injuries and what had been consumed, to try to understand what they might be dealing with inside. If it was crab-people, he was going to lose his Gods-damned mind for sure.
|
|
|
|
Post by Humble Chris on May 3, 2022 13:57:55 GMT
Cyrus's Musings
Whilst his eyes scanned the horizon and their surroundings for any sign of another presence, Cyrus racked his brain for any idea what their unseen foe might be. Lots of creatures of the sea had chitin and claws, but few of them were big enough to take on three salted sea dogs and win. Dire crabs might if they were old enough, but he had never heard of nor seen one lay it's saints-damned EGGS inside someone before. Yurian; the supposed crab folk, were another possibility, but they were supposed to like warmer waters than this.
Neither prospect was entertaining, especially when Cyrus remembered both dire crabs and yurian are known for traveling in packs.
Another possibility that chilled Cyrus's blood was the thought of a chuul. They were big, dumb, mean and nasty enough to take on a whole crew by themselves. Sometimes they were solitary, but others they were just as likely as the others to have a whole family behind them.
None of these thoughts were encouraging.
|
|
|
|
Post by Cyrus on May 3, 2022 21:26:07 GMT
The pirate grunted to himself as he perched his sword on his shoulder.
"Dire crabs, maybe, or perhaps a pack of Yurian, but... I don't think those are known for freaky egg insertions. Do these injuries seem like multiple attackers? I dunno about that. The worst-case would be a chuul. Fuckin' nasty crab-monsters." With a frown, he scratched at his head. "Seems to me the best defense is a tight formation. Cover with shield, and I'll cover with sword. Maybe if you've got more of that shielding magic, that would be good, Lav. I don't have the luxury of a board to go with my sword."
The thing about dark water is that even someone who could see in dim lighting couldn't see a thing until there was some source of light. That made a deep-water spotting attempt hard, but every Aasimar had light in their blood -- even the dickish ones. Curious, he hefted a nearby rock. The Aasimar focused on it, made a sign with his offhand like something exploding, and spoke in Celestial like he was intoning a spell. The rock began to glow with light, and he skipped it out into the water to surprise and illuminate what might be lying in wait therein.
Keen eyes observed what might flow away from it or be revealed by the light source.
|
|
|
|
Post by Humble Chris on May 4, 2022 1:54:20 GMT
The murky water turns bright and clear as the imbued stone skims the water's surface before breaking through to sink. A few startled fish dart out of the illuminated missile's path, and there is definitely the visible disturbance of something much larger out in the deeper waters.
Perhaps goaded by the skimming stone, or curious about the strange source of light, the creature closed in on the source. Though the image was distorted, by the crashing of waves, it was indeed a truly massive crustacean with a mass of tendrils jutting from its mouth. Some of the tentacles wrapped around the stone and the light went dark - presumably devoured by the monster.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on May 4, 2022 3:38:33 GMT
The cleric was already discreetly pouring some ash from the talisman around their throat — divine tithe for their extrasensory perception. As they contemplated the drifting stardust, their attention eventually landed back on Cyrus' trick with the rock, and thus following the arc of it being flung across the sea.
"Good idea-"
As soon as the creature pulsed beneath the waves, the hand still holding the reliquary moved on instinct. Their hand cracked silently with ash and time as they dragged the life out of the aberration. The ocean resounded with the angry roll of a bell tolling the Long Rest.
|
|
|
|
Post by Humble Chris on May 4, 2022 4:14:09 GMT
The surface of the water rippled with the ringing of those divine bells as the light beneath the ocean began to fade. Just as the golden light of the rock faded, a twisting burst of black and green light bloomed below, framing the silhouette of a multi-limbed monstrosity. Water lapped the beach with violence as the creature released a burst of speed towards the surface. With no visible source of the attack, the creature's baser instincts took over and it swam for the surface with unnatural speed. Only the need to reach the surface and gain its bearings was on the primitive beast's insignificant mind as it burst forth with the tide, emerging onto the rocks and shoals in a chattering of chitin and twisting mouth parts. The creature stood nearly a whole head taller than any of the trio atop four segmented legs. One huge serrated claw snapped at the air, while from the other hung the carcass of a mutilated shark. The whole of the creature was covered in a tough, thick set of natural armour that was covered in sharp spines. Six small, black beady eyes gazed at the party through its armoured head, and the segmented snapping mouth parts opened up to reveal an array of long salivating tongues that whipped and snapped at the air. A low clicking sound came from the creature as its senses regarded the three. The distinct whiff of flesh was in the air, and the chuul began to advance. |
|
Korruk
Visitor
Name: Korruk Logar Race: Orc Class/Level: Paladin 2 XP: 480 Maximum HP: 21 Alignment: Lawful Good
Posts: 98
|
Post by Korruk on May 4, 2022 5:36:37 GMT
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on May 4, 2022 6:01:06 GMT
As the monstrosity surfaced the bell continued to ring, Lavandul struck their first to their chest and moonlight flared across their plate; the cloak discorporating into a voided star field while their outline unfocused.
The hammer and shield flowed into their hands as they steadily lumbered towards the charging prey.
|
|
|
|
Post by Humble Chris on May 4, 2022 13:12:29 GMT
The chuul dropped its prize onto the ground, unaware and uncaring that the ocean came in to reclaim the carcass. Rage and instinct drove it forward into the path of the three who were now grouped together. Three tasty, juicy morsels each of them carrying the glint of metal and determination in their eyes. Just like the other three on the beach.
Wet slobbering tentacles slapped against one another as the creature stalked forward, raising its pincers to meet the armoured nightmare that exuded magic. For a creature driven by instinct over logic and attracted by the sweet song of magic, the prize was almost too tempting.
The monstrosity swiped wide with its claw, but just as the pincers were about to envelope the cleric, Korruk leapt in with an artful parry from his axe. The hook formed by the natural curve of his axe caught the offending pincer and, with a spin, repelled it with a fourish.
Growling in frustration at the sudden intervention, the chuul reached out with its other pincer to attack the interloper. A combination of rage and awkward balance made the attack clumsy, and was once more deflected by Korruk's skill.
|
|
|
|
Post by Cyrus on May 4, 2022 16:41:01 GMT
The Red Saint roared as the moment to strike came, his montante swinging in looping arcs powered by supernatural hatred. To no avail, as his attacks bounced off the chitinous armor on the creature's back.
The barbarian grinned psychotically, the holy fury burning out of his eyes. He'd get there eventually.
|
|
