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Company of Chaos - All Around Golarion
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<blockquote data-quote="Lwaxy" data-source="post: 5777677" data-attributes="member: 53286"><p>Bjön's Pathfinder Diary</p><p></p><p></p><p>27th of Lamashan</p><p></p><p>On board of the Black Mist, on route to the so-called Isle of Terror</p><p></p><p></p><p>Events have gotten hectic after the temple of Razmir burned down. Most priests have been captured trying to sneak out of the city, but a few of them remain missing. No doubt they will sooner or later resurface somewhere, but that will hopefully be no concern of ours. </p><p></p><p>After the temple was destroyed, no one asked too many questions as to how we got the information, in was enough for them to know we had infiltrated them to find something belonging to us. Even after we discerned the destination of the cult's travels and her purpose, the Kassen people were not willing to let the priestess Iramine get away with their property. The fact that said woman is also trying to cause more problems by finding riches for her so-called god played a secondary role. One could say they are simple minds focused on just what is important to them, but I do not think so. It just seems to be that the whole scale of the situation hasn't penetrated their backwater educated minds yet. </p><p></p><p>Except for Teltz and Samin. I wish I knew what was up with the two of them. It is not for me to pry in their affairs though. I have made certain no evil emanates from either of them, and that is enough for me. </p><p></p><p>We had to leave Teltz behind at the inn. He has not yet recovered from what has occurred in the temple. Samin wanted to stay with him, but we convinced him we needed another magic user – however inexperienced – and especially his hawk familiar on this journey. The sorcerer the government has sent with us – Brenn – doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in me. He is a tall, pale fellow who, despite the lack of pointed ears, seems to have more elven blood than Samin and talks less than Mook. I haven't been able to determine what his spells are, but we are sure to find out. </p><p></p><p>Now Kronk the Monk, the kobold that came to my rescue in the temple, is another riddle to me. He won't say why Zaza is so important to him. He has come up with some herbal remedy to allow the halfling to sleep at least while on the water, but she still can't keep any food in. I will watch the kobold carefully. </p><p></p><p>We boarded the Black Mist 5 days ago, in pursuit of the Witch's Stitches, a slow riverboat which may not even have made it to the isle. While this would solve the main problem, it would also mean the Kassen people would not get their amulets back, and I would be sorry about this. They have done a lot considering most of them – Teltz not included – are more inexperienced than I am and would certainly deserve to be once more welcomed as the heroes at home. </p><p></p><p>As our ship is not made for the sea, we are traveling along the southern shore of Lake Encarthan. Tomorrow, we are to turn north, into the open sea. The weather does not make Captain Walren or his new helmsman, an old ex-pirate named Mabon, very hopeful. We might have to sit tight for a day or two while the weather cleans up, despite our need for haste. </p><p></p><p>At least until now, the journey was uneventful, with the exception of a dire crocodile and an angry water elemental. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>"How is the w-weather up there?" </p><p></p><p>Samin stopped staring ahead into the storm and looked down into Mook's grinning face. "Same as down there, I suppose," he smiled. "How is Zaza?" </p><p></p><p>"She s-stopped f-feeding the f-fish but I think it's just b-because there is no more f-food in her," Mook replied. The weather had cleared up for the most part, only a thin veil of rain was coming down from above, and the ship was barely moving up and down anymore. Yet Zaza's disagreement with being on water was as bad as ever.</p><p></p><p></p><p>The journey north towards the isle had been brutal. They had been loocked up in the belly of the boat for their own safety, except for Konk who seemed to know a little about sailing and had already shown his balance and reflexes were good enough to help the sailors. Strangely enough, both the captain and Mabon liked the little guy, despite the captain explaining that, generally speaking, he hated kobolds as they had once destroyed his family's hold. </p><p></p><p></p><p>"That's Aroden's Landing," Samin said, pointing to the small halfmoon bay just ahead. "I don't know how I feel going onto an island, one with such a bad reputation at that. If anything happens to the boat we can' t get off anymore."</p><p></p><p>"Or if w-we are too late," Mook sighed. "10 d-days the captain g-gives us. S-seems like not m-much t-time."</p><p></p><p>"Well, he can't wait forever." Samin pointed to the clouds over the isle. "Negative energy storms. I have read all the information Reginar gave us before we left. Part of me thinks it was not such a good idea to follow this priestess."</p><p></p><p>"A-and the other half?"</p><p></p><p>The thee-quarter-elf smiled widely. "The other half is all excited about adventure, finally doing what my da used to do when he was younger."</p><p></p><p>"Your f-father went on qu-quests and s-some such?" Mook had suspected this, as had most in Kassen, but the bard had enver talked about it. </p><p></p><p>"Yeah, well, not sure if you could call it quests. He used to be a traveling bard and encountered a few things over time." </p><p></p><p>The Black Mist went into the bay, and the storms on the isle seemed even more violent from here. Ewem, the deckhand, and Kronk were already working on preparing the old rowboat to get ashore. The others were gathering around, Zaza half carried by Cajun and the wolf whining pitifully. </p><p></p><p>They had some trouble all fitting into the boat. Mabon and Captain Walren too it upon themselves to transfer them, Mabon bailing water out of the boat the whole way, commenting about bad seamanship, while Walred was whistling and grinning. Everyone was relieved to have solid ground under their feet again, despite the grim looking landscape. Samin was especially happy to get his hawk's claws out of his shoulder pads. The dwarf captain reminded them about the 10 days he would wait, and the two fires they were to lit if they wanted to be picked up. "Just t' be sure no cultist tricks us," he explained again. "I wish you all the luck of Golarion in your pursuit."</p><p></p><p>Not too long later, the party was watching them row back to the boat. "I guess this is where trouble truly begins," Cajun said in a low voice, staring at the stormy weather and the ruins of what looked like a former keep – Fort Landing. In party, sand had gone up to about 30 feet at the sides of the remaining walls. Wind, sand, and storms have scoured away anything organic and left behind a sandblasted set of interconnected walls that now formed a sort of ruined maze.</p><p></p><p>Edawon Hest found the first camp of the cultists inside those ruins. When the others followed his calls, they also found 2 graves ringed with stones near a wall. "Not good," Hest shook his head. "While it means less of them, it also means this place has the right name."</p><p></p><p>"How long ago have they been here?" Zaza, still pale and weak, wondered.</p><p></p><p>"Hard to say, but it sure was more than a day ago," Hest replied, studying the campsite. </p><p></p><p>"We shouldn't stay here," Bjön worried. "There is enough light of day left to follow their trail and we have little time. They did leave a trail, no?" </p><p></p><p>Hest nodded. "A rather easy to read one. They moved east from here, and I agree, let's move away from here."</p><p></p><p>East proved to be swampy area. The map Reginar had given Bjön proved accurate enough. The group stayed to the north of the swamp and mostly on dry ground. Dadawin and Wilbur were both alarmed about something that seemed to follow them, but nothing was visible. "Some s-ort of w-wolves," Mook said at one point. "N-not normal ones, he is v-very worried about t-them." </p><p></p><p>"Do not worry about them," Brenn suddenly spoke. "Animals, no matter what kind, so not attack where I am present."</p><p></p><p>The others exchanged looks and shrugged; while curious, they had given up asking the sorcerer any questions. His statement did little to stop them from worrying, but nothing attacked and their speed was good despite Zaza's incomplete recovery. A few hours into their walk, close to dark, they saw the first example of what negative energy storms could do. Some sort of lightning struck a tree a distance away, and it crumbled to ashes just like that. </p><p></p><p>Nightfall brought the problem of setting up camp. Using any trees as shelter did not seem wise after what they had witnessed earlier and given the violent bursts of wind almost knocking them down in irregular intervals, it made little sense to put up the canopy. Hurdled in their blankets in what seemed the middle of nowhere, they didn't get much rest – except, of course, for Cajun, who snored like a bear. Brenn took the first watch and Bjön the second, but asides from twisted sounds like the howl of wolves but way more evil, which made Dadawin howl back in anger a few times, nothing happened. </p><p></p><p>The morning was met with more winds and strange lightning from the massive clouds overhead. As quickly as they could, they made breakfast and were on their way again. A slight depression settled in, seemingly affecting everyone but the half-orc and Brenn. Brenn mentioned something about orc heritage probably making Cajun immune to some of the effects of the place. </p><p></p><p>Nothing happened the next day, except them finding another camp of the Razmirans the next day early afternoon. This one was under some high and strong trees, and the group decided to camp here, too. Zaza nursed a bumped head – the cursed wind had blown her over a few times – and Cajun had a scratch on his arm where a branch had hit him during one of those violent outbursts of wind. The next morning arrived much as the last one, with no one but Cajun truly rested. </p><p></p><p>They crossed a body of black, foul water early that morning and followed the south shore of the lake it came out of. The Whispering River and the Whispering Lake, so the dwarf told them. Close to what must be midday – hard to say with the sun barely visible and the isle in a twilight – they reached the second camp of the cultists. At first it looked as if it also was their last. Bodies were lying around, partly eaten by scavengers. They counted 9 Razmirans and 2 strange looking lizardfolk-like beings. They were black, eyes and scales alike. Here and there they spouted weird mutations. The high priestess was not among them though.</p><p></p><p>"Definitely lizardfolk," Hest asserted. "The negative energy here must have twisted them."</p><p></p><p>"Twisted them something good," Cajun agreed, examining the morningstars and wooden shields the creatures had dropped. "I would not want to battle with them if I could avoid it."</p><p></p><p>"You and me both, lad," Brenn growled and grabbed his weird combination of quarterstaff and spear harder. "But it is very likely we will have to fight them." His eyes went over Zaza and Mook, as if judging their battle worthiness. Mook stared back in defiance, while Zaza tried a weak grin. </p><p></p><p>"Those morningstars are poisoned," Bjön noted. "Likely from the waters of the Whispering Lake." Said lake, he had explained to them on the way, was pure poison, which was easy to guess as it was all black and thick. It was almost like negative energy gone solid. It was, to their judgement, quite stupid to make camp here, but maybe the Razmirans had had no choice. Hest soon found the trail of the surviving cult members. </p><p></p><p>Zaza was already going through the dropped gear of the cultists. At the edge of the camp, she gathered her findings. "12 daggers, 7 short swords, 2 rapiers looking like masterwork to me." Cajun nodded at her questioning look. "Crossbow and 12 bolts, that's mine seeing how it is halfling sized and I lost mine when the water elemental attacked. I'd also like to keep the daggers." No one argued with that. "Other than that, some masks no one needs, tools for thieves – mine, too, I insist – and some money. 2 smokesticks, 2 sunrods and some potions. </p><p></p><p>Samin examined the potions. "They are even labeled," he grinned. "Healing potions, all 4 of them."</p><p></p><p>"Now that's nice," Bjön said, pointing to the dead. "Didn't help them much though."</p><p></p><p>"They look like their attackers had tried to tear them apart," Kronk mused. "Doesn't look like beings who can be reasoned with."</p><p></p><p>Cajun was relieving one of the dead men of a half donned leather armor. "Looks better than mine," he commented. Seeing Zaza's frozen look and Mook' shaking her head, he stopped for a moment. "What? Do you think this guy can still use it? It is not damaged or even dirty unlike mine."</p><p></p><p>"Never mind," Zaza replied. "You are right, I just don't think I will ever get used to having dead people around me."</p><p></p><p>Dadawin suddenly growled, and Wilbur, circling a few meters over their heads – any higher and the wind would blow him away – screeched a warning, too. Brenn whirled around first and got into a defensive stance. "I suppose we will see if those lizards can be reasoned with or not," he said calmly. </p><p></p><p>It was 4 of them, one of them looking to be tougher and taller than the others. Their chief, they realized. He snarled something in Draconic and waved for the other two to follow in his attack. </p><p></p><p>Samin frowned, and then he seemed to change somehow. Some of them had seen this once before, in the Crypt of the Everflame, although then it had not been so obvious. The effect spread to his childhood friends again. Bjön noticed the subtle change and wondered what they would do this time to avert hostilities. He was, as before, unaffected. </p><p></p><p>A stream of words came from the young mage no one but Kronk could understand. The kobold seemed a little surprised at the use of Draconic language but just watched. Bjön looked at Cajun, and the half-orc, hammer raised, shrugged. He had quickly donned the leather armor and looked quite different in it. He also had, the paladin noticed, opened his pouch for a quick access to his alchemical supplies should they become needed. Brenn, too, had his pouch open to get at his spell components, and Bjön himself had a tight grip on his axe. Zaza and Mook had taken position behind the wolf.</p><p></p><p>The three-quarter-elf nodded to the words of the lizardfolk. Invaded territory, wanting to destroy all the invaders. The usual, he thought. "We apologize for not noticing this is your territory," he replied while the lizards were still advancing. "You killed some of those we follow. See they invaded our territory, too, and stole from us, so we had to keep on their trails. We would have asked your permission but we didn't know about you." </p><p></p><p>Samin could not fail to notice the Razmiran masks the black scaled beings had taken from the dead. From a crude necklace over shield ornament to the chief wearing one of the masks over his face – quite an ill-fitting match. The chief stopped right in front of Samin, and his morningstar hit the ground with a thud, causing sickly dust to rise. </p><p></p><p>"We laid ambush for those with the masks," he hissed. "But in the glorious battle, they used foul tricks and killed many of our numbers. They must all die."</p><p></p><p>"So they must," Samin said, trying to make his voice a bit darker. "They stole from us and killed some of us when they were in our territory. We hunt them to get back what is ours. If there was any sign that this area is yours, we might have been able to go around it, but we could not know." Thinking back, there had been some signs the area was inhabited but they had paid little attention. "Maybe the masked people destroyed your border marks. You want to kill us for doing what you would do as well? You would follow them anywhere, and so do we. If you really must do so, let us catch the transgressors first."</p><p></p><p>This irritated the chief visibly. "They are ours to kill., We track them. We don't need you."</p><p></p><p>"How many more people do you want to lose to their tricks of magic? We have magic, too. We can probably defeat you. But if you think it through, we should probably work together." </p><p></p><p>"We don't need others to help us. We are strong," The chief lifted his morningstar again and came a step closer. "You, you are first to die." </p><p></p><p>"I don't think so," Samin replied. "It is much more likely we will kill you all. Then who is there to punish the masked ones?"</p><p></p><p>The chief grunted. "If the maked ones are dead, we will fight," he announced. "And if you fail to kill them, we will fight them. Maybe they kill you first and we don't have to fight you." His pronunciation indicated he meant it as mockery, but it was clear to Samin that the chief was not so sure if he could take them on, or would have a lot more luck against the cultists before reinforcements arrived. </p><p></p><p>"Get more of your people, then, and follow us," Samin said, wondering about himself before the words were out. "Then you can make sure it gets done."</p><p></p><p>"And leave you out of sight? We are not stupid." Again, the morningstar crashed into the dusty poisoned soil. Somewhere close by, a flash of negative energy hit a rock as if the pronounce the chief's words. </p><p></p><p>"Where would we go?" Samin asked calmly. "This is an island. We all can't swim very well. We do not have a ship." A half truth, but it worked. The chief grunted again, then all of a sudden turned and waved the others to follow. As he and his men broke noisily into the vegetation, Samin noticed everyone was staring at him. </p><p></p><p>"What?" he asked. "Kronk has taught me Draconic while we were bored on the journey."</p><p></p><p>"Yes, but..." the monk scratched his scaly head. "I have never seen anyone learning a language this quick. I was already surprised on the boat but seeing this now..." He chuckled, suddenly like any other kobold. "Ah, it got us out of trouble, it did, so I am not complaining."</p><p></p><p>"Add to that," Brenn pointed out the much more perculiar matter, "their sudden amiability. Seriously, from what we know, you can't reason with those half mad things. At all. And you got them to... do what, exactly? Leave us alone?"</p><p></p><p>"Not quite," Samin said, wondering where to start his explanation of the negotiations. He had taken matters much into his own hands – or mouth, at that – and part of him couldn't understand it. He knew he was good at negotiating, but it was almost as if the words had come on their own. As if he had just been the listener. Before he could continue, Cajun rescued him from his confusion and embarrassment. "Do we burn the bodies or just kick them into the poisoned waters?" </p><p></p><p>"Burn them," the paladin decided. "They were, after all, sentient beings and some of them might not have been beyond redemption." </p><p></p><p>Samin sighed at those words. It would be difficult to make the dwarf see the necessity to kill the cultists – or let the lizardfolk kill them – if any of them would surrender. And him thinking like that shocked himself. A few weeks ago, he would have balked at the idea of coming to a place like this, and now he was acting like... </p><p></p><p>Like his father had before, he thought.</p><p></p><p>Bjön and Cajun set to gathering the bodies while Kronk gathered wood and foliage dry enough to make a pyre. With the lizardfolk in the area, they doubted any other sentient being would follow the smoke, and animals would be driven off at the same time. Bjön was still doubtful of the sorcerer's claim to be able to hold off any animal attackers, but they would already be gone before the fire burned down in any case. </p><p></p><p>As the fire was burning – or rather smoldering - there was suddenly a warning from Dadawin. The wolf sniffed the air in confusion and did a single bark – a sound, so Mook assured, only heard when he was very confused. A few minutes later, the source for the confusion appeared. </p><p></p><p>Emerging from the nearby brush with his arms raised high and bearing no obvious weapons was a human man, about six feet tall, with a tangle of long, dirty red hair and a long red beard, wearing tattered, hole-ridden clothes soaked through with mud and stained black in many places. Even before he got close, his stench preceded him. It was not only as though he hadn’t bathed in years, but that he seemed to have actually gone out of his way to cover himself in the most horrible smells the Isle of Terror had to offer: a blend of rotten eggs, human waste, and decaying organic matter. An arrow was lodged in the back of his right leg, but seemed to cause him no pain as neared the group. Suddenly he stopped. His eyes went wide and he loudly exclaimed “I found you!”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lwaxy, post: 5777677, member: 53286"] Bjön's Pathfinder Diary 27th of Lamashan On board of the Black Mist, on route to the so-called Isle of Terror Events have gotten hectic after the temple of Razmir burned down. Most priests have been captured trying to sneak out of the city, but a few of them remain missing. No doubt they will sooner or later resurface somewhere, but that will hopefully be no concern of ours. After the temple was destroyed, no one asked too many questions as to how we got the information, in was enough for them to know we had infiltrated them to find something belonging to us. Even after we discerned the destination of the cult's travels and her purpose, the Kassen people were not willing to let the priestess Iramine get away with their property. The fact that said woman is also trying to cause more problems by finding riches for her so-called god played a secondary role. One could say they are simple minds focused on just what is important to them, but I do not think so. It just seems to be that the whole scale of the situation hasn't penetrated their backwater educated minds yet. Except for Teltz and Samin. I wish I knew what was up with the two of them. It is not for me to pry in their affairs though. I have made certain no evil emanates from either of them, and that is enough for me. We had to leave Teltz behind at the inn. He has not yet recovered from what has occurred in the temple. Samin wanted to stay with him, but we convinced him we needed another magic user – however inexperienced – and especially his hawk familiar on this journey. The sorcerer the government has sent with us – Brenn – doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in me. He is a tall, pale fellow who, despite the lack of pointed ears, seems to have more elven blood than Samin and talks less than Mook. I haven't been able to determine what his spells are, but we are sure to find out. Now Kronk the Monk, the kobold that came to my rescue in the temple, is another riddle to me. He won't say why Zaza is so important to him. He has come up with some herbal remedy to allow the halfling to sleep at least while on the water, but she still can't keep any food in. I will watch the kobold carefully. We boarded the Black Mist 5 days ago, in pursuit of the Witch's Stitches, a slow riverboat which may not even have made it to the isle. While this would solve the main problem, it would also mean the Kassen people would not get their amulets back, and I would be sorry about this. They have done a lot considering most of them – Teltz not included – are more inexperienced than I am and would certainly deserve to be once more welcomed as the heroes at home. As our ship is not made for the sea, we are traveling along the southern shore of Lake Encarthan. Tomorrow, we are to turn north, into the open sea. The weather does not make Captain Walren or his new helmsman, an old ex-pirate named Mabon, very hopeful. We might have to sit tight for a day or two while the weather cleans up, despite our need for haste. At least until now, the journey was uneventful, with the exception of a dire crocodile and an angry water elemental. "How is the w-weather up there?" Samin stopped staring ahead into the storm and looked down into Mook's grinning face. "Same as down there, I suppose," he smiled. "How is Zaza?" "She s-stopped f-feeding the f-fish but I think it's just b-because there is no more f-food in her," Mook replied. The weather had cleared up for the most part, only a thin veil of rain was coming down from above, and the ship was barely moving up and down anymore. Yet Zaza's disagreement with being on water was as bad as ever. The journey north towards the isle had been brutal. They had been loocked up in the belly of the boat for their own safety, except for Konk who seemed to know a little about sailing and had already shown his balance and reflexes were good enough to help the sailors. Strangely enough, both the captain and Mabon liked the little guy, despite the captain explaining that, generally speaking, he hated kobolds as they had once destroyed his family's hold. "That's Aroden's Landing," Samin said, pointing to the small halfmoon bay just ahead. "I don't know how I feel going onto an island, one with such a bad reputation at that. If anything happens to the boat we can' t get off anymore." "Or if w-we are too late," Mook sighed. "10 d-days the captain g-gives us. S-seems like not m-much t-time." "Well, he can't wait forever." Samin pointed to the clouds over the isle. "Negative energy storms. I have read all the information Reginar gave us before we left. Part of me thinks it was not such a good idea to follow this priestess." "A-and the other half?" The thee-quarter-elf smiled widely. "The other half is all excited about adventure, finally doing what my da used to do when he was younger." "Your f-father went on qu-quests and s-some such?" Mook had suspected this, as had most in Kassen, but the bard had enver talked about it. "Yeah, well, not sure if you could call it quests. He used to be a traveling bard and encountered a few things over time." The Black Mist went into the bay, and the storms on the isle seemed even more violent from here. Ewem, the deckhand, and Kronk were already working on preparing the old rowboat to get ashore. The others were gathering around, Zaza half carried by Cajun and the wolf whining pitifully. They had some trouble all fitting into the boat. Mabon and Captain Walren too it upon themselves to transfer them, Mabon bailing water out of the boat the whole way, commenting about bad seamanship, while Walred was whistling and grinning. Everyone was relieved to have solid ground under their feet again, despite the grim looking landscape. Samin was especially happy to get his hawk's claws out of his shoulder pads. The dwarf captain reminded them about the 10 days he would wait, and the two fires they were to lit if they wanted to be picked up. "Just t' be sure no cultist tricks us," he explained again. "I wish you all the luck of Golarion in your pursuit." Not too long later, the party was watching them row back to the boat. "I guess this is where trouble truly begins," Cajun said in a low voice, staring at the stormy weather and the ruins of what looked like a former keep – Fort Landing. In party, sand had gone up to about 30 feet at the sides of the remaining walls. Wind, sand, and storms have scoured away anything organic and left behind a sandblasted set of interconnected walls that now formed a sort of ruined maze. Edawon Hest found the first camp of the cultists inside those ruins. When the others followed his calls, they also found 2 graves ringed with stones near a wall. "Not good," Hest shook his head. "While it means less of them, it also means this place has the right name." "How long ago have they been here?" Zaza, still pale and weak, wondered. "Hard to say, but it sure was more than a day ago," Hest replied, studying the campsite. "We shouldn't stay here," Bjön worried. "There is enough light of day left to follow their trail and we have little time. They did leave a trail, no?" Hest nodded. "A rather easy to read one. They moved east from here, and I agree, let's move away from here." East proved to be swampy area. The map Reginar had given Bjön proved accurate enough. The group stayed to the north of the swamp and mostly on dry ground. Dadawin and Wilbur were both alarmed about something that seemed to follow them, but nothing was visible. "Some s-ort of w-wolves," Mook said at one point. "N-not normal ones, he is v-very worried about t-them." "Do not worry about them," Brenn suddenly spoke. "Animals, no matter what kind, so not attack where I am present." The others exchanged looks and shrugged; while curious, they had given up asking the sorcerer any questions. His statement did little to stop them from worrying, but nothing attacked and their speed was good despite Zaza's incomplete recovery. A few hours into their walk, close to dark, they saw the first example of what negative energy storms could do. Some sort of lightning struck a tree a distance away, and it crumbled to ashes just like that. Nightfall brought the problem of setting up camp. Using any trees as shelter did not seem wise after what they had witnessed earlier and given the violent bursts of wind almost knocking them down in irregular intervals, it made little sense to put up the canopy. Hurdled in their blankets in what seemed the middle of nowhere, they didn't get much rest – except, of course, for Cajun, who snored like a bear. Brenn took the first watch and Bjön the second, but asides from twisted sounds like the howl of wolves but way more evil, which made Dadawin howl back in anger a few times, nothing happened. The morning was met with more winds and strange lightning from the massive clouds overhead. As quickly as they could, they made breakfast and were on their way again. A slight depression settled in, seemingly affecting everyone but the half-orc and Brenn. Brenn mentioned something about orc heritage probably making Cajun immune to some of the effects of the place. Nothing happened the next day, except them finding another camp of the Razmirans the next day early afternoon. This one was under some high and strong trees, and the group decided to camp here, too. Zaza nursed a bumped head – the cursed wind had blown her over a few times – and Cajun had a scratch on his arm where a branch had hit him during one of those violent outbursts of wind. The next morning arrived much as the last one, with no one but Cajun truly rested. They crossed a body of black, foul water early that morning and followed the south shore of the lake it came out of. The Whispering River and the Whispering Lake, so the dwarf told them. Close to what must be midday – hard to say with the sun barely visible and the isle in a twilight – they reached the second camp of the cultists. At first it looked as if it also was their last. Bodies were lying around, partly eaten by scavengers. They counted 9 Razmirans and 2 strange looking lizardfolk-like beings. They were black, eyes and scales alike. Here and there they spouted weird mutations. The high priestess was not among them though. "Definitely lizardfolk," Hest asserted. "The negative energy here must have twisted them." "Twisted them something good," Cajun agreed, examining the morningstars and wooden shields the creatures had dropped. "I would not want to battle with them if I could avoid it." "You and me both, lad," Brenn growled and grabbed his weird combination of quarterstaff and spear harder. "But it is very likely we will have to fight them." His eyes went over Zaza and Mook, as if judging their battle worthiness. Mook stared back in defiance, while Zaza tried a weak grin. "Those morningstars are poisoned," Bjön noted. "Likely from the waters of the Whispering Lake." Said lake, he had explained to them on the way, was pure poison, which was easy to guess as it was all black and thick. It was almost like negative energy gone solid. It was, to their judgement, quite stupid to make camp here, but maybe the Razmirans had had no choice. Hest soon found the trail of the surviving cult members. Zaza was already going through the dropped gear of the cultists. At the edge of the camp, she gathered her findings. "12 daggers, 7 short swords, 2 rapiers looking like masterwork to me." Cajun nodded at her questioning look. "Crossbow and 12 bolts, that's mine seeing how it is halfling sized and I lost mine when the water elemental attacked. I'd also like to keep the daggers." No one argued with that. "Other than that, some masks no one needs, tools for thieves – mine, too, I insist – and some money. 2 smokesticks, 2 sunrods and some potions. Samin examined the potions. "They are even labeled," he grinned. "Healing potions, all 4 of them." "Now that's nice," Bjön said, pointing to the dead. "Didn't help them much though." "They look like their attackers had tried to tear them apart," Kronk mused. "Doesn't look like beings who can be reasoned with." Cajun was relieving one of the dead men of a half donned leather armor. "Looks better than mine," he commented. Seeing Zaza's frozen look and Mook' shaking her head, he stopped for a moment. "What? Do you think this guy can still use it? It is not damaged or even dirty unlike mine." "Never mind," Zaza replied. "You are right, I just don't think I will ever get used to having dead people around me." Dadawin suddenly growled, and Wilbur, circling a few meters over their heads – any higher and the wind would blow him away – screeched a warning, too. Brenn whirled around first and got into a defensive stance. "I suppose we will see if those lizards can be reasoned with or not," he said calmly. It was 4 of them, one of them looking to be tougher and taller than the others. Their chief, they realized. He snarled something in Draconic and waved for the other two to follow in his attack. Samin frowned, and then he seemed to change somehow. Some of them had seen this once before, in the Crypt of the Everflame, although then it had not been so obvious. The effect spread to his childhood friends again. Bjön noticed the subtle change and wondered what they would do this time to avert hostilities. He was, as before, unaffected. A stream of words came from the young mage no one but Kronk could understand. The kobold seemed a little surprised at the use of Draconic language but just watched. Bjön looked at Cajun, and the half-orc, hammer raised, shrugged. He had quickly donned the leather armor and looked quite different in it. He also had, the paladin noticed, opened his pouch for a quick access to his alchemical supplies should they become needed. Brenn, too, had his pouch open to get at his spell components, and Bjön himself had a tight grip on his axe. Zaza and Mook had taken position behind the wolf. The three-quarter-elf nodded to the words of the lizardfolk. Invaded territory, wanting to destroy all the invaders. The usual, he thought. "We apologize for not noticing this is your territory," he replied while the lizards were still advancing. "You killed some of those we follow. See they invaded our territory, too, and stole from us, so we had to keep on their trails. We would have asked your permission but we didn't know about you." Samin could not fail to notice the Razmiran masks the black scaled beings had taken from the dead. From a crude necklace over shield ornament to the chief wearing one of the masks over his face – quite an ill-fitting match. The chief stopped right in front of Samin, and his morningstar hit the ground with a thud, causing sickly dust to rise. "We laid ambush for those with the masks," he hissed. "But in the glorious battle, they used foul tricks and killed many of our numbers. They must all die." "So they must," Samin said, trying to make his voice a bit darker. "They stole from us and killed some of us when they were in our territory. We hunt them to get back what is ours. If there was any sign that this area is yours, we might have been able to go around it, but we could not know." Thinking back, there had been some signs the area was inhabited but they had paid little attention. "Maybe the masked people destroyed your border marks. You want to kill us for doing what you would do as well? You would follow them anywhere, and so do we. If you really must do so, let us catch the transgressors first." This irritated the chief visibly. "They are ours to kill., We track them. We don't need you." "How many more people do you want to lose to their tricks of magic? We have magic, too. We can probably defeat you. But if you think it through, we should probably work together." "We don't need others to help us. We are strong," The chief lifted his morningstar again and came a step closer. "You, you are first to die." "I don't think so," Samin replied. "It is much more likely we will kill you all. Then who is there to punish the masked ones?" The chief grunted. "If the maked ones are dead, we will fight," he announced. "And if you fail to kill them, we will fight them. Maybe they kill you first and we don't have to fight you." His pronunciation indicated he meant it as mockery, but it was clear to Samin that the chief was not so sure if he could take them on, or would have a lot more luck against the cultists before reinforcements arrived. "Get more of your people, then, and follow us," Samin said, wondering about himself before the words were out. "Then you can make sure it gets done." "And leave you out of sight? We are not stupid." Again, the morningstar crashed into the dusty poisoned soil. Somewhere close by, a flash of negative energy hit a rock as if the pronounce the chief's words. "Where would we go?" Samin asked calmly. "This is an island. We all can't swim very well. We do not have a ship." A half truth, but it worked. The chief grunted again, then all of a sudden turned and waved the others to follow. As he and his men broke noisily into the vegetation, Samin noticed everyone was staring at him. "What?" he asked. "Kronk has taught me Draconic while we were bored on the journey." "Yes, but..." the monk scratched his scaly head. "I have never seen anyone learning a language this quick. I was already surprised on the boat but seeing this now..." He chuckled, suddenly like any other kobold. "Ah, it got us out of trouble, it did, so I am not complaining." "Add to that," Brenn pointed out the much more perculiar matter, "their sudden amiability. Seriously, from what we know, you can't reason with those half mad things. At all. And you got them to... do what, exactly? Leave us alone?" "Not quite," Samin said, wondering where to start his explanation of the negotiations. He had taken matters much into his own hands – or mouth, at that – and part of him couldn't understand it. He knew he was good at negotiating, but it was almost as if the words had come on their own. As if he had just been the listener. Before he could continue, Cajun rescued him from his confusion and embarrassment. "Do we burn the bodies or just kick them into the poisoned waters?" "Burn them," the paladin decided. "They were, after all, sentient beings and some of them might not have been beyond redemption." Samin sighed at those words. It would be difficult to make the dwarf see the necessity to kill the cultists – or let the lizardfolk kill them – if any of them would surrender. And him thinking like that shocked himself. A few weeks ago, he would have balked at the idea of coming to a place like this, and now he was acting like... Like his father had before, he thought. Bjön and Cajun set to gathering the bodies while Kronk gathered wood and foliage dry enough to make a pyre. With the lizardfolk in the area, they doubted any other sentient being would follow the smoke, and animals would be driven off at the same time. Bjön was still doubtful of the sorcerer's claim to be able to hold off any animal attackers, but they would already be gone before the fire burned down in any case. As the fire was burning – or rather smoldering - there was suddenly a warning from Dadawin. The wolf sniffed the air in confusion and did a single bark – a sound, so Mook assured, only heard when he was very confused. A few minutes later, the source for the confusion appeared. Emerging from the nearby brush with his arms raised high and bearing no obvious weapons was a human man, about six feet tall, with a tangle of long, dirty red hair and a long red beard, wearing tattered, hole-ridden clothes soaked through with mud and stained black in many places. Even before he got close, his stench preceded him. It was not only as though he hadn’t bathed in years, but that he seemed to have actually gone out of his way to cover himself in the most horrible smells the Isle of Terror had to offer: a blend of rotten eggs, human waste, and decaying organic matter. An arrow was lodged in the back of his right leg, but seemed to cause him no pain as neared the group. Suddenly he stopped. His eyes went wide and he loudly exclaimed “I found you!” [/QUOTE]
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