HSI: The Island

He takes the bow and slings the quiver over his back. "May the jungle chickens tremble in fear," he exclaims with a good-natured grin. "Thanks, Gonnar. I'll try not to shoot anyone by accident."

Gwydion fishes a cloth out of his pack and plugs his nose. "Brimstone, and very pure from the look and smell of it." Gwydion's excitement fades as a thought occurs to him. "Brimstone is usually found near areas of volcanic activity."

Halor helps situate the boat and quietly follows the others.

"A volcano?" he muses, "that sounds fun. Should we continue into the jungle?"

Before they set out, Mauve worked on her gamebeson with a bone needle and thread that she always kept on her person but her needle snapped and her armor was left unrepaired.

She shrugged it off and as they set out she became concerned that the tall mountains would block their way. She was much relieved to see that they were not entirely barred from further progress. The smell was more of a challenge though. She certainly didn't consider herself a lightweight but she was finding it hard to keep her meal in her stomach. She covered her nose when no one was looking.

Volcano, huh? Well, let's hope it doesn't decide to blow while we were here. That would be a nasty death. I wouldn't say that was fun.

Gonnar merely shrugs at the smell -- he's suffered much worse.

The strange crystals, though, take his attention and he examines them before throwing a rock at one some distance away to see if it reacts to the impact. If it doesn't, he leaves them be and points to the tower in the distance. "The jungle, or there?" he asks simply.

"I disagree with ya there, Mauve. A volcano would be a great way to go! What a sight to see. When you meet your makers, you'd have a hell of a story to tell 'em, yeah?"

The sulphurous smell is familiar to Fafnir, who grew up not far from natural hot springs. It threatens to bring back some complicated memories, but he doesn't dwell on it too much. So it goes. It's pretty easy not to dwell, considering they had just spotted a man-made structure on this island. And pinning the making on a 'man' was just the best case scenario.

"Bet that tower's where our singing friend lives. Let's check it out."

"If you believe in a maker ... which I don't," she says wryly. "That's a good guess Fafnir. Some kind of watchtower? Maybe we should spread out and approach it from different directions if that's even possible. But if someone was singing up there, they probably aren't too worried about being approached."

She switches her attention to Gonnar for a moment, interested to see what might happen after he throws the rock.

He blinked at Mauve. Who made all this shit if there was no maker, he thought to himself. To believe there was no maker was just ... terrifying! Yup, she's definitely the most dangerous one. Maybe he'd bring it up later.

"So, are we just gonna knock? Or should we skulk around a little first, see what we can see?"

Day 2: 12:00 PM - 4:00 PM
You leave the blistering heat of the afternoon sun and push south into the jungle. The thick cover of trees blocks out the sunlight almost immediately. It's a hot day and the dense jungle is a few degrees cooler, but the humidity and heat is still oppressive. You push forward into the darkness, surrounded almost immediately by a swarm of horse flies, nipping and biting as you hike.

There are points where light filters through a break in the thick cover of twisted trees. You find a natural trail that twists through the trees. A tiny stream has washed away most of the soil and trickles it's way underneath a trail of large, heavy rocks covered in bright green moss. The slippery rocks make for difficult travel and every so often you have to grab at the thick, woody vines to keep your feet.

"I'm with you, Fafnir. Going out, screaming in defiance at the very earth as it spews fire at you would be glorious!"

He marches with the others keeping an eye on the forest around them while taking up a position in the middle of the group. Surely large birds are not the only threat out here, and he hopes to catch sight of anything approaching from the dense foliage.

Gwydion tries to keep pace with his companions but he is too much of a naturalist to not stop and examine the flora and fauna along the way.

Mauve wipes her brow. Beads of sweat drip down her forehead into her eyes. She thinks about making a braid around it to keep the sweat at bay but she's too hot to do anything but concentrate on their surroundings and swat at the bugs, thankful that the layer of stinky grease on her exposed skin was repelling them. She felt dirty though but it was better than the alternative. Besides she had heard that you could get really sick from getting bitten by bugs.

"I'll stay back with you Gwydion. You're trailing the group and are liable to get snatched up by a giant bird back here by yourself. What's so interesting anyway?"

Gwyndion, you notice a tree in the distance that looks odd. The long, thin tree crowned by palm fronds looks similar to a palm tree, but has some peculiarities. The trunk is pale and smooth with some of the bark peeling off, like parchment. The twisted roots seem to coil around themselves, snaking out in all directions.

Fafnir stays near Halor with his new bow in hand, keeping his eyes on their surroundings and his fellow crewmates. He resists the urge to talk about Halor's deity, dying in a volcano, or a host of other topics that the two could discuss for hours. It can wait for the campfire.