Chapter 4: The Waters of Menehune

"You heard him!"

Regan, confidant that the two downed compatriots can get to the middle of the slab, will dash from Jin's side and retrieve the body of the boy. Cradling the small, lifeless form he then dashes to the middle of the slab and drops low, shielding the body with his own.

Admiral yanks his shortsword out of the boggle’s stomach and the creature’s limp body slumps off the branch, landing on the forest floor below with a muffled thud. He turns to see what effect the boggle’s death had on the eelhounds but instead sees the mist around the slab swirling and churning, whipped up by the frenzied winds. He blinks, baffled, then curses and scampers down the trunk of the tree.

He lands lightly on the forest floor beside the boggle’s body. He glances at the boggle. Regan said he wanted him alive, but it’s probably a bit late for that… Regardless, he picks up the boggle’s limp body, throws it over his shoulder, and then picks up the dropped staff too before racing back toward the slab as fast as he can.

REGAN

The party scrambles inward; even the battered Taresh and bloodied Jin drag themselves to the slab’s heart as the air howls to life. Regan, crouched over the boy’s still body, watches a cyclone of mist and debris girdle the platform—leaves, vines, whole branches whipping past in a deafening blur, slamming the ledge below hard enough to shudder the stone beneath his knees. The eel-hounds erupt in blind panic: some are yanked skyward, pinwheeling through the gale; others hurtle off the rim with shrill, fading yelps. Only the slab’s center lies in a fragile eye of calm, yet the spiraling wall of wind tightens with every breath, devouring more hounds as it coils steadily closer...

ADMIRAL

Branches whip at Admiral’s fur as he weaves quickly through the dark undergrowth toward the location of the slab, the boggle’s corpse bumping against his back and its inert staff clutched in his fist.

The night ahead is a clash of sound: hounds yelping in broken chorus, wood splintering, and a great unseen wind rumbling through the treetops like surf on rock. Moonlight catches the mist between trunks, revealing flashes of debris swirling above the distant canopy—leaves, palm fronds, perhaps whole limbs torn free and hurled skyward.

The jungle floor trembles under dull concussions—something heavy striking stone—followed by the crack of branches snapped by tumbling bodies. Cold drafts slither past his ankles in rhythmic pulses, dragging wisps of fog. Beyond the wall of foliage he can’t see the ledge, only a throbbing nimbus of swirling mist backlit by the moon, its rim creeping lower with every heartbeat.

A fresh wave of panicked howls rises—cut short by a hollow whomp and the screech of claws skittering on rock—sending a chill through his whiskers. Whatever storm has hatched up there is tearing through the hounds...

REGAN
The party scrambles inward; even the battered Taresh and bloodied Jin drag themselves to the slab’s center as the air howls to life. Regan, cradling the boy’s still body, watches a cyclone of mist and debris rise and girdle the platform—leaves, vines, whole branches whipping past in a deafening blur, slamming the ledge below hard enough to shudder the stone beneath his knees. The eel-hounds erupt in blind panic: some are yanked skyward, pinwheeling through the gale; others hurtle off the rim with shrill, fading yelps. Only the slab’s center lies in a fragile eye of calm, yet the spiraling wall of wind tightens with every breath, devouring more hounds as it coils steadily closer...

ADMIRAL
Branches whip at Admiral’s fur as he weaves quickly through the dark undergrowth toward the location of the slab, the boggle’s body bumping against his back and its inactive staff clutched in his fist. The scent of the oily fey creature is rather terrible.

The night ahead is a clash of sound: hounds yelping in broken chorus, wood splintering, and a great unseen wind rumbling through the treetops like surf on rock. Moonlight catches the mist between trunks, revealing flashes of debris swirling above the distant canopy—leaves, palm fronds, perhaps whole limbs torn free and hurled skyward.

The jungle floor trembles under dull concussions—something heavy striking stone—followed by the crack of branches snapped by tumbling bodies. Cold drafts slither past Admiral's ankles, dragging wisps of fog. Beyond the wall of foliage he can’t see the ledge, only a throbbing cloud of swirling mist backlit by the moon, its rim creeping lower with every heartbeat.

A fresh wave of panicked howls rises—cut short by a hollow whomp and the screech of claws skittering on rock—sending a chill through his whiskers. Whatever storm has hatched up there is tearing through the hounds...

"Cordey... what in the hells is happening right now?!" Regan does his best to ask the elf over the din of weather-born chaos.

Shit. I hope Admiral is alright. He's out there alone in angry fey weather.

Admiral hunkers down behind the sturdiest looking tree he can find. It doesn’t look like he can make it through that ferocious whirlwind without getting bombarded by debris or torn apart by the wind, so he can only wait for it to pass and hope that, in the meantime, his friends have found a safe place to wait it out too.

REGAN

"The Old Ones command the mist. They wish to clear the slab of those who seek harm to their shaman. If we keep close to the amulet we may be safe." replies Cordey over the din.

The hounds continue to get ripped off the slab as the cyclone closes around the party. When the last hound screeches in panic while being lifted off the stone the winds and swirling mist quickly dies down.

ADMIRAL

From Admiral’s vantage the storm above the canopy recedes and the final debris rest on the jungle floor.

Admiral cautiously peeks out from behind his tree and when he sees the storm has passed, dashes toward the stone slab. "What the hells was that!? Is everyone alright?" he calls out, as he gets closer.