The Strangling Sea: Chapter 1

Here are Nyíl's icon relationship rolls.

OOC: Nyíl is a human female.

[OOC: Here are Blackstar's Icon Relationship rolls]

Coming over the rise of a small hill Inidrill sees the smoke rising from the village first, then hears the cries of the children and wives lamenting their fate. She spurs her horse onward as fast as it can go, seemingly heedless of the danger of loose rocks or raised roots along the road. Boldly she rode into the village green where the civilized people were gathered either to be slaughtered or divided up as trophy or slave. Inidrill presented herself to the leader of the war band and offered blessings and healing to the orcs, if she could also treat the villagers. Her offers where at first met with sly derision, but she persisted. Being an elf, and hated by the savage orcs she was offered a place in the leaders harem. Politely she refused, but spun the conversation to a the philosophical debate of Right to Rule. (Though debate might me a more colorful word than others would use.) It was decided that the strongest had the right to rule for as long as they are able, then the stronger person should take over. The orc leader was not prepared for the challenge to come from the elf, but he did so valiantly. It was a hard fought battle, but Inidrill claimed victory. A few of the prouder orc warriors could not accept the elf's victory and a fight broke out. With the help of her companions she drove the rest back k into the wilds.

Nyíl slowly works her way through the trees as she heads in the direction of the strange tower. "I'll have to apologize to Feras and the others for being late, but a sight such as this needs to be investigated", she murmurs to herself as she tries to rationalize letting her curiosity get the better of her. Eventually the forest gives way to what appears to be a perfectly circular clearing, perhaps 50 feet in diameter, with the crooked tower directly at the center. As she breaks from the cover of the forest and enters the clearing she is greeted from above.

"Careful, friend, do not get too close to the tower or you'll end up trapped up here as well!"

Nyíl takes a few steps back towards the edge of the clearing as a puzzled look crosses her face, "How did you get up there in the first place?"

"I'm not quite sure. I was collecting mushrooms in the forest when I happened upon this clearing. As I approached the tower there was a bright flash of light and I was knocked out. When I awoke, I found myself on top of this tower. Please help me!"

Nyíl has the women direct her to the last location she remembers being on the ground before ending up on the tower. Once there, she picks up a small stone and tosses it gently towards the tower. A bright light flashes as the rock hits the tower and as she shields her eyes she hears the woman above let out a yelp as the stone bounces off of her head.

"Sorry about that", Nyíl apologizes as she reaches into her pack and pulls out a rope, "but I think I might have a way to get you down." Holding on to the end, she tosses the rope towards the tower and as it uncoils and hits its mark, the bright light once again appears. The trapped women, realizing what Nyíl is trying to do, finds the other end of rope dangling just in front of her, suspended from what appears to be a hole in the sky, perhaps 10 feet above. She quickly grabs her end of the rope and ties it around her waist and then yells down to Nyíl that she's ready.

Pulling with all of her might, Nyíl watches as the women is pulled into the hole above her head, closing behind her as she is completely pulled through. Struggling against the loose ground, Nyíl digs in the best she can and continues pulling as she backs away from the tower. Suddenly, with a bright flash of light, the now rescued women comes crashing through the bottom of the tower and lands unceremoniously on the ground.

As both women pick themselves up and brush themselves off the rescued women approaches Nyíl. "I don't have much to offer in way of thanks, but please take these. They're the best the forest has to offer", and hands Nyíl a small bag of mushrooms. The two finish exchanging pleasantries before Nyíl excuses herself in order to continue on with her trip.

Encounter: As Jeremiah is working his way along a forest trail he feels a slight tug from behind. Turning around he sees a small humanoid creature, maybe two feet in height scurrying away with one of his possessions.

Jeremiah felt his person lighten, and as he turned he found a creature almost his height, carrying off his bag of gold. "Thief!" he cried. He pulled out one of his daggers and threw it at the critter. The strike didn't kill it, but the blade did wound the culprit. After an hour of running through the woods, he lost the thief... but as the cretin was bleeding rather profusely at this point, he was able to follow it to its hideout. It was all too familiar to him: a goblin warren, smaller than what he used to deal with, but serviceable for a decent-sized tribe of goblins.

He knew that rushing in was suicidal even with friends at his side, so he decided to sneak into it, find his gold, kill the nutter that took his stuff, and get out. There were a few close calls here and there, but the plan was going quite well. Too well, in fact. Things are going to get real bad real soon, he thought to himself, as he reached for his pouch that was lying next to the wounded goblin that was being bandaged by its companion. True enough, he found himself running for dear life as around twelve well-armed goblins chased him down.

"Three out of four ain't so bad!" he shouted at himself as arrows, bullets, and spears rained down on him, both from the goblins that were chasing him, and the Platinum Rangers that were on patrol along the main road.

"Are you alright, gnome?" asked one of the rangers. "We almost mistook you for being one of them; what IS that on your shield anyway?"

"Oh this little thing?" he replied. "That's just the troll that terrorized my village years before. Slayed him I did!"

The rangers who didn't snicker rolled their eyes and said under their breath, "Sure you did." The ranger who spoke to Jeremiah continued. "So, where are you headed?"

Jeremiah responded. "Me? I'm looking for someone who still owes me a drink at the First Pawn. Or three, given how it's been more than a month since I last met her. Which reminds me, I need to go now." Before they could continue with their questions, he left. As he was walking away, he said "Thanks for scaring off those goblins by the way!"

[ OOC: He did pick up the dagger he threw during the chase. Also, Blackstar wakes up in a cage that seems to be one of several freak show attractions of a traveling circus. ]

Blackstar awoke in an iron cage on board a ship sailing to Drakkenhall. His captors presented themselves as a travelling circus but in truth The Broken Spider was a slaver ship. Blackstar laughed silently to himself. Ironically he had intended to head east before this turn of events. He'd received, via raven, an invitation from Nyíl Íj, a ranger he had met some time ago, to meet her on the southeast edge of the Wild Wood. He had been preparing to set out from Glitterhaegen when he was set upon by the slavers.

In another cage nearby was a centaur who called himself Ixion. Blackstar and the centaur had had a whispered conversation the night before, hatching an escape plan. Busting out of their cages would be the easy part. Overcoming their captors might prove a challenge, but getting safely to shore was the dilemma. Seeing that Blackstar was awake, Ixion scanned the horizon and with a flash in his eyes, murmured, "I have begun gathering the storm. It will descend upon us within the half-hour. Unleash your chaos now. We will be free of this ship today, one way or another." The centaur was a storm druid. And Blackstar? Well, Blackstar was something these fools had never seen before!

Blackstar cackled to himself as the slavemaster walked past his cage. In the ringleader's belt were two weapons: a jagged shard of titanium-alloy that belonged to Blackstar, and Ixion's shell khopesh, an odd, curved weapon with a blade made of the husk of some ancient animal. That was another thing: Blackstar would be loathe to leave his weapon behind. Thankfully his captors had ignored the rest of his gear, hidden away in pockets in his suit. They'd even ignored the rubber hose lashed with elastic cord to his back, mistaking those for two of his tentacles.

Those tentacles began to lash at the cage now, and the mage began to tremble as the chaos magic overtook him. His eyes shot up in his head and a low moan escaped his lips. Meanwhile, the sky began to darken and a sudden wind lashed the sails about. Lightning flashed. The slaver crew rushed about the deck to get their vessel in order but couldn't stop staring at their two strange captives. There was a moment of deafening silence before Blackstar's eyes came back into focus and chaos erupted on the ship. Suddenly there were rats everywhere. Rats pouring out of crates and barrels and every tiny crack in the ship's planking. Rats in crewmen's clothes, and dropping from the masts to swarm knee-deep on the deck. The crew flailed about and yelled at each other, only to find they were speaking in the tongues of wild animals. Chirps and squeaks, roars, barking, hissing and bellowing echoed across the now churning water. Still cackling gleefully, Blackstar flung out his hands and purple flames rippled across the deck, singeing crewman and rats alike. The tormented crewmen then began unwillingly teleporting all over the ship, switching places, appearing upside-down in the air to crash onto the deck or into the water. Unexpectedly, the chaos mage & the druid got switched in their cages as well, before being teleported quite randomly into the captain's cabin where the slavemaster was cowering under a table. The centaur smashed the table with his hooves, and Blackstar used his tentacles to flip the gibbering slaver on his back and retrieve their weapons. They charged onto the deck and jumped over the side into the water just before the druid's lightning tore The Broken Spider apart.

It was a few hours and near dark before Blackstar clambered onto the shore near Shark's Tooth just north of the Wild Wood. Of his new friend or his foes there wasn't a sign. He searched the shore but only found bits of wood from the slaver ship. Other than a few crabs and water birds there was not a living thing on the surface of the water or on the shore. Blackstar began to make his way inland. Perhaps he could still catch Nyíl Íj at the appointed meeting place.

"The High Druid thinks much of herself indeed. Simply commanding that the dead be returned to the realm of the living as though anyone can do it! Bah...it is an affront to the gods." Inidrill pauses and looks contemplative, "However...if it were possible it would be a deed that would right one's name in annals of leglend or time immemorial. Nyil, if this is a task you believe achievable, in even the smallest of chances, I will ride by your side through the very gates of Tarturas to see it done. This I swear."

Nyíl leans back a bit in her chair as she contemplates what Feras is asking of her. How was she supposed find a dead man? Why would the High Druid even think that such a thing was possible?

As Nyíl leans forward to speak, Inidrill breaks the silence and offers her assistance. Responding with an appreciative nod Nyíl stands and addresses the gathering.

"If the High Druid believes that this Inigo Sharpe can be found then I believe it as well. If he is indeed alive, we will find him and bring him here. If he is dead, we will find him, and do whatever is necessary to learn his secrets regarding the metal derros. I am confident that with the assistance of the High Druid and the many talents we have among us that this is indeed an achievable task." Nyíl pauses for a moment before adding, "But only if we all take part."

"Inidrill, your assistance will be most needed, and I thank you for your support. And while I dare not speak for the rest of you I am hopeful that you will all lend your talents to the cause as well."

Jeremiah idly taps his shield with one of his daggers, his face bearing the weight of deep thought and puzzlement. As Nyil completes her speech, he let out a deep sigh, and speaks up. "I don't know how you actually got any derro to keep their side of a pact, but if this Inigo character be the best man to stop this madness, then what are we waitin' for?"

He slung the dagger into its sheath and continued. "If he's dead then he might have something in his person that could help us. But if he's alive, then all the better. So... where was Mr. Sharpe last spotted?"

Blackstar bursts into sudden rude laughter and all eyes turn to glare at him for the interruption.

Blackstar knows Nyil Ij, but not particularly well. They had traveled together briefly soon after Hell Marsh. He knows flamboyant Jeremiah well enough because of a few shared adventures (misadventures, some might call them). The eager elf Inidrill is new to him. What could they possibly want with one such as Blackstar?

Blackstar's understanding of the powers that influence this world are limited, but being so malleable both physically and morally, he has felt their tug-o-war since his arrival here. The centaur on the slaver ship spoke of this High Druid. Apparently she has purview over the wild untamed forests in this area, and has been defending the Empire against incursions from the sea. Ixion had mentioned having been banished from the Wild Wood, but did not go into detail. Blackstar reels his wandering mind back to the here-and-now. Shakes his head to clear it. As clear a head as a madman can have. He laughs loudly again.

"I've been wondering why you'd want me along, but now I know. This mission is madness. You need a madman! Well, here I am."

"You take offense when I speak only truth. Souls, whether departed, living, or soon to enter this realm are the domain of the gods. And it is beyond my ability to simply command them back from the other side where they rest. Yet it is that very deed she demands of us. I do not doubt the High Druids wisdom however and welcome the challenge. If you take fact as insult, my most gracious host, perhaps an examination of your own faith and commitment to her is in order. But I digress. The topic at hand is more important."

"You say you are working with a Derro seer? But Derro are the problem. what assurances do you have that this seer is not misleading you intentionally?"

At this, Jeremiah stepped in. "Usually I'd hate to interrupt anyone's speech, but I've seen derros backstab each other while I was an apprentice smith in Forge. They're clearly crazy, and frankly anything that'd help them remove themselves from the land is a blessing if you ask me."

Facing Feras, he continued. "While I was taught to never settle for even dwarven pig iron, this assistant is our best lead at the moment. Could you provide us with supplies and maybe a ship to go with it? If you've got any magic that could help us too, that'd be great."

"I would have liked to have met this inventor," Blackstar says, fingering the inert blaster at his hip.

"Feras says this former assistant is living on the shore of the Midland Sea somewhere between New Port and Shark Tooth Bay. We don't need a boat to get there. Why, I just walked from there yesterday! That's where I came ashore after hitching a ride with some nice circus people headed for Drakkenhal." Blackstar sniggers. "Probably strolled across his front lawn without knowing it! Supplies certainly wouldn't hurt though. Does this former assistant have a name?"

Nyíl, not one to talk, sits back and takes in the conversation and as Feras exits the room a concerned look crosses her face, "While I have complete faith in The High Druid's intentions the same courtesy can not be extended to her messengers."

Inidrill observers her companions for a moment then looks at the items on the table. "I gladly offer the armor to either of you, and trust my health to divine providence, if however the heavy armor is not to your liking, I will accept this gift from our patron."

"As for getting started, I see no reason to leave immediately. The morning is a more auspicious time to begin anyway."

"I am quite literally attached to my suit." Blackstar cackles. "However, I will gladly take one of these healing draughts if that's alright."

"If it is all right with the rest of you I would like to offer the armor to Inidrill, I'd be much more comfortable in my own." Reaching for one of the potions Nyíl continues, "I will take one of these along for us should the need the arise."

"Feras, Inidrill makes a fair point. A good night's rest would surely be to our benefit. Is there lodging available for the four of us nearby?"

Scrutinizing the slab of stone that their benefactor called 'armor' with his eyes, Jeremiah snickered a bit. He mumbled to himself, "It's passable I suppose."

In his normal voice, he continued. "I'll have a bottle of that magical healing, though I'd like to honor my master by adding a generous amount of ale to the brew, if that's alright with everyone."

"I wouldn't mind some of that ale right now but with my luck it's more likely to turn into imp urine as soon as it touches my lips!" Blackstar says mournfully. "Remember that bar in Glitterhaegen, Jeremiah? I still feel bad about throwing up on your head. You sure did love that feathered hat of yours!"

Jeremiah winced at the memory. "Yes, I did. Remind me to give you another air hole just like I did back then, so you can spew your drink lower next time." He jested sarcastically. "Took me weeks to find another cockatrice feather to replace the one you ruined, y'know!"

Calming down a bit, he faced the group and said, "I'm sorry, I'll feed him some grub rot when I get the chance. May I take a look at our accommodations?"

For the first leg of the journey, we first went to Elder's Cache, one of several trading outposts that lie between Axis and Horizon. Feras mentioned derros, and Jeremiah figured that perhaps the less violent of the underfolk may know this Firigin's whereabouts.

Not that Elder's Cache is known for being a quiet place. On the contrary, its tavern The Wax Off Wax Inn is known to be one of the better places to break every bone in your body in, as monks, brawlers, veteran gladiators, and even the occasional orc comes by with one excuse or another to start a friendly exchange of fisticuffs. The perfect place for crazy folk like the derros to relax in**.

It's here that we heard about Firigin's aunt, Aunt Marga, who might know more about his whereabouts.

[ It is much to Jeremiah's chagrin that he knows this place. ]

Imagining Aunt Marga as a kind old lady, the adventurers are shocked to find she in fact runs a brothel in the dirtiest, toughest part of town. Aunt Marga is grotesquely huge, towering over even Blackstar, and her girth is even more monstrous. She is also ugly beyond all reckoning. That is, if one could see her actual face through the layers of cosmetics. She receives the adventurers in her heavily perfumed boudoir. All are equally ill at ease except for Blackstar, who finds it all just unbelievably funny. Aunt Marga offers to give them information about her nephew in exchange for one night with Jeremiah, which Blackstar gleefully agrees to. Nyil & Inidrill (and not surprisingly, Jeremiah himself) manage to talk the old girl into settling for one of the flamboyant gnome's silk handkerchiefs and one of his secrets whispered in her ear.

The information she gives is this: The last time she saw Firigin, he was scouting Elder's Cache for sellswords to hire for a journey North to the coast, where he intended to get himself a ship.

Using the lead that Firigin in was in town hiring mercenaries, the party heads out again, armed with better questions to ask. Much to their dismay however they discovered they had missed Firigin by a day or so. He and his band had headed North. Along the way the group encounters an elven scouting party. They are on the trail of a group of orcs who also are headed north. Inidrill talks the party's way into the band of elven scouts and they all travel north.

They catch up to the orcs on the third night. A battle ensued but the orcs had not been prepared for the attack and were throughly destroyed.It seemed the orcs have caught two humans sellswords who had been with Firigin but got seperated when the orcs were detected and the mercenaries fled. The mercenary who survived was greatful for being rescued and told his saviors all he knew of Firigin's plan, but it was nothing new. The elves send word to their commander and make camp for the night. Revelry over takes the camp that night and much brandy and wine are shared. In the morning messages return from the elven command and are taken directly to the scout leader's tent. A large breakfast for two is brought moments later. About half an hour later Inidrill emerges from the scout leader's tent and she gathers her companions. It seems the elves had noted the passage of the mercenary band being lead by a man fitting Firigin's description. They were using the well established road to pass through the woods to get North. The elves provided a map showing a shorter hunting trail that could get the party in front of the mercenaries.

Several hours into their trek along the hunting trail the party comes across what appears to be a fork that isn't on the map and the proper path forward is not clear. While stopping to discuss their options Nyíl notices a wispy figure beckoning to her along the left fork. Trying to keep quiet, she gently nudges Jeremiah, and points towards the figure. Jeremiah then quietly notifies the others as Nyíl tries to make sense of what she is seeing.

Moving slowly towards the figure Nyíl does her best to identify it, but the best she can make out is that it is some sort of humanoid, about seven feet in height. As the group gets closer the figure moves further along, motioning for Nyíl to follow. As this back and forth continues the figure slowly picks up speed and group does their best to keep up until eventually everyone is near a full sprint. Just as it appears that the figure is going escape, it lunges into the brush off of the trail, and as Nyíl follows, her leg catches a root and sends her sprawling through the air and landing flat on her face.

As she picks herself up and brushes herself off she realizes that she landed on the side of a road. Looking back to the others she notices that their attention is focused further down at the small group of people heading in their direction. "Looks like we may have found who we've been looking for." she thinks as the party approaches who they hope is Firigin.

OOC: The figure was from my relationship roll with the High Druid. Perhaps some help when we weren't sure which way to go.

"Heehee, looks like we're in for another fight! And they have a mage of some sort!" Blackstar's eyes widen in anticipation and his mouth drips spittle like a mad dog. He prepares himself, gathering the chaos magic to him. He wonders gleefully what mayhem will be unleashed through him here today.

[OOC: njohn858 this might be a good time to tell me my first spell type :-) ]

The stench of rotting flesh in his nostrils tells Blackstar his first spell this battle will bear the taint of the Lich King. His face transforms into that of a corpse. He looks inquiringly at his companions, speaks in a death rattle, "I expect the rest of you will want to come up with some sort of plan. Best be quick about it, I can't keep this bottled up for long." He gestures at the woman attacking Firigin's odd dwelling. "Looks like those sellswords aren't good at waiting either."

"Besides," Blackstar laughs croakingly, his face now a grotesque skull, "the suspense is killing me!"

Inidrill dismounts and steps forward watching the brigands gathered before the domed building. She takes a wide stance and plants the butt of her weapon in the ground, her off hand on her hip in a powerful pose. She gives Balckstar a sidlomg glance with narrowed eyes. Then shouts to the people assulring the doo, "Greetings, fellow travelers! It is fortuitous that we have found you here. We seek a common goal. Getting something from Firigin, who seems to be in that hovel. If you would let us speak to him first however, that would be appreciated. What we seek he will most likely give, then afterward we will depart in peace and let you have your way with him."

Blackstar turns skeletal eye sockets towards Inidrill in disbelief. She means to reason with these sellswords! The only language these people understand is money! The cleric just boldly gave up the advantage of surprise! And he thought these people would put their heads together for a quick plan. Well, this suits him just fine!

Blackstar spurs his mount forward, and charges down the hill, his head haloed in writhing necrotic energy.

[OOC: I guess this means Initiative. Blackstar is Gathering Power this round to empower his spell, which he will cast at double strength in the 2nd round. I forgot to roll for Blackstar's random sorcerer spell for the day. Doing that now.]

Roll results:

Chaotic Benefit: Blackstar gains +1 AC bonus until the start of his next turn. Temp AC = 13.

Sorcerer spell for the day: Chaos Bolt

Nyíl dismounts, readies her bow, and notches an arrow. She watches closely as Blackstar starts his charge and will react when and if a fight is started.

OOC: I'll roll initiative just in case it's needed.

Blackstar charges down the hill, screaming as he struggles to hold in the spell that the hand of Chaos has dealt him [Evil Touch]. Tendrils of negative energy swirl about him [+1 AC]

Inidrill runs forward as Blackstar closes in. One she raises her right arm over her head and and shouts, "Mother, let Your light shine through me and pierce the wicked heart that defies your will!"
She stopped running as a ball of light appears in the palm of her up stretched hand. She clenches her fist and the light shapes itself into a glowing ray. Then Inidrill hurls the spear of light with all of her might toward the big thug.

Jeremiah sighed. Here we go again, he mumbled to himself as he ran to the front line, striving to put himself between Blackstar and the huge creature called Gorta.

Pulling out his schiavona from its scabbard, he thrusts his blade at the nearest opponent (preferably Gorta), as he sets up his foes as he fells any brute. After all, the bigger they are, the more satisfying the crunch when they fall.

[ OOC: If the enemy triggers my counter-attack feel free to roll on my behalf. I'll need to edit my post thanks to my flexible attacks. Hit or miss, my crit range is now 19-20, thanks to Carve an Opening. ]

Nyíl raises her bow and picks a target (Nadda) and lets loose an arrow.

Indrill let's out a roar when the sell sword's blade connects. She then brings her pole arm into a wide arching swing to crush the man who dared draw her blood.
"Unworthy swine! You will pay for spilling my divine blood!"

Without taking her eyes off of her target (Nadda), Nyíl retrieves another arrow from her quill and fires it off.

Blackstar leaps off his horse and crashes into Nadda, at last releasing the spell he has been holding in. Writhing black tendrils of negative energy plunge into Nadda as they roll on the ground. Blackstar sobs with relief as the necrotic energy leaves him, and his face changes back to normal.

---

OOC:

Blackstar spent the 1st round Gathering Power so his spell deals double damage.
Hit: 1d10 + Cha negative energy damage.
Even Hit: As hit, plus Blackstar gains 5 temp hp if Nadda drops to 0hp during battle
Miss: Damage = Blackstar's level (1)

Next Spell Type please?

Jeremiah laughed at Gorta, "Is that all you've got, Small Nuts?". He lunged once more at the huge foe, feinting with his sword before knocking him in the face with his shield.

[ OOC: Natural even, triggering Shield Bash. ]

Letting out a primal roar Inidrill brings her hammer down in a high arc trying to crush the sellsword's skull.

((Forgot about my racial power elven grace. I will include it this time.))

Disgusted with her last attempt, Nyíl decides to make one last effort with the bow before rushing into melee. Carefully drawing another arrow, she draws back and takes aim at the dart thrower.

Blackstar wrenches the dart-thrower's dagger from his belly and drops it among Nadda's bones at his feet. With a snarl he retaliates with a blast of freezing cold from his outstretched hand.

---

OOC:
Blackstar decides to cast his Sorcerer spell for the day instead of the Defense spell. So is it Defense for round 3, or are we drawing from the bag again?

Jeremiah anticipated the lumbering oaf's next swing, and as he closed in he stepped to the side and slid his blade to Gorta's midsection. "Ha!" the gnome shouted, "did you feel that sting, Goblin Breath?" It was a risky move, but he knew by experience that Gorta will be rendering himself vulnerable soon enough.

[ OOC: Natural odd, triggering Carve an Opening again, so my next attack can crit on a natural 18. ]

Having had little luck with her ranged attacks, Nyíl decides that it's time to get up close and personal. Stowing her bow, she draws her sword and charges the dart thrower. "Laugh at this, Moron!"

Inidrill balks at the audacity of this mercenary, looking down his lowborn nose at her makes her want to break it! Again her hammer seeks the man.

((Right about the racial power of course. The site dropped one of my second attack roll. I didn't notice or I would have posted an edit about it. Irrelevant anyway since the d6 came up above the escalation die.))

"BLARRRGH!" The noise that issues from Blackstar's mouth resembles a belch from the maw of hell itself! Gorta and the sellsword are caught in the blast of what smells like gas from all the cesspools of the Abyss that issues forth. Blackstar tumbles into the air, spinning like a leaf.

---

OOC:

As per the random rolls bellow, we have the following effects:
-Gorta & the sellsword are caught in the blast (17 vs PD)
-If hit, Gorta takes 16 damage & is dazed (save ends)
-If hit, Sellsword takes 16 damage & is confused until the end of Blackstar's next turn
-Blackstar gains flight until the end of his next turn.

As Gorta swung his club wildly at him, Jeremiah effortlessly parried it aside as he tapped his enemy's face with his shield and shouted, "Say what? I thought you were too busy kissing the troll!"

As he steps back to take the defensive, Jeremiah instantly takes a whiff of Blackstar's gas and shouts at him, "Damn you, infernal horror! Take your sewage spew out in the forest, not in front of me!"

[ OOC: Dang, I forgot about my Counter-Attack talent; not that it triggered yet anyway :) natural even attack triggers Defensive Fighting, I have 21 AC for a round :) ]

Grimacing from the slash of the dart thrower's blade, Nyíl, determined to end this once and for all, attempts to run him through with her sword.

Inidrill triumphantly lifts her weapon back into striking position but spares little more than a moment to savor the victory before turning on the next foe. She closes in on the dart thrower to assist Nyil.

Jeremiah looked at the putrid corpse that was once Gorta, and sighed. "I thought you'd be worthy of being a prized trophy. Still, want not, waste not." He proceeded to wipe the blood off his schiavona, bring out one of his obsidian daggers, and spend some time carefully scalping and looting Gorta's body.

Blackstar lands with a thud on top of Firigin's strange building. Nyil and Inidrill seem to have overwhemled the dartthrower and so the chaos mage floats down to the front door and starts knocking politely. "Yoohoo! Firigin? Anybody home?"

((Using Elven Orphan..this covers survival instinct stuff...noticing useful things and such.))

Inidrill uses her weapon to flip the former dart thrower over. The item she saw him reaching for may have been dangerous so she takes all prudent precaution to investigate.

"What is this I wonder? she says as prods the dead man's jacket open to get a better look.

"Well, to the victor, I suppose!" The tall elf finishes examining the vial and slips it into her pouch, not hiding it, just securing it, then turns to the structure where Black star and their quarry are conversing.
"The loss of any life is regrettable, but this 'good man' was ready to kill you, and us I might say. Though I find it distasteful I will not deny Jeremiah his customs. Please open the door and so that we may speak civilly without shouting. Our needs are urgent!"

Not wanting to appear as a threat to whoever is behind the door, Nyíl quickly wipes the blood from her sword before sheathing it. She moves besides Inidrill and gives her a quick tap with her scabbard in appreciation for the nice finish on the dart thrower.

Jeremiah faced the mysterious voice. "I'm taking a part of him because he is a good human." Wiping the scalp on the nearby grass before placing it in his pockets, he continued. "It's only fair that I keep memories fresh by keeping a part of him close."

He stares blankly to the distance as he strokes the face on his shield.

Blackstar sists don on Firigin's porch, humming tunelessly.

Inidrill acknowledges Nyil as well and calls out again, "Open the door, please Master Firigin. We have urgent business."

Letting the others do the talking, Blackstar amuses himself by examining the various curiosities on Firigin's workbench, particularly any mechanical-looking ones.

Indigo Sharpe. Where is he?" Inidrill states, looking directly into the man's eyes, ready to dissect his words for truth, should he try to obscure it.

Nyíl keeps a watch on the rest of the room as she awaits the man to answer Inidrill.

"Not much of a liar, this one." Nyíl thinks to herself as she slowly rolls her eyes before continuing to scan the room.

"The Druid, in all her wisdom, declares you false. She has told us you are wrong. The Orc Lord knows it as well and is sending his troops to drag you back to him where they will torture you until you tell them what they want to know.

Jeremiah tapped one of Firigin's thighs. "Derros made of steel, saying something like 'Above as Below' or something like that. Probably going to come here eventually, wreck this place up even better than I would've on a drunken fit. Know anything about them, maybe help us make sure your safe little haven stays safe?"

Nyíl, hoping to get on Firigin's good side in case future assistance may be needed, draws a blood stained dagger from its scabbard. "Elk-horn dagger, used to be white a long time ago. What would it cost to clean it up?"

Following Nyil's lead, Blackstar points at his battered & dirty space suit. "Well this used to be bright white!"

"A grand adventure indeed. My weapon is clean however, but if you are offering to enhance it somehow...I have no objections."

The thought of a grinning troll shield proved too good to pass up. "I'd like you to put a smile on Urgaden's face please," Jeremiah said, with a huge smile on his face. "What exactly should we do with the woman?"

Blackstar cleared his throat. "I don't think we can spare a week, nor three days. But I would be glad to come back here and see what you can do for my suit once this present business is over. What we really need right now is your help finding Iñigo Sharpe. I don't doubt your boat will be a big help. If there's anything more then we would be most grateful. As for payment, well..." He looked around the cluttered workshop.

A wise man by the name of Clarke from Blackstar's home world had once said, 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.' Blackstar knew what to offer Firigin. From the wizard's worktable the former astronaut picked up a liquid-filled glass jar with a metal band around the bottom and a delicate chain sticking out of its stopper.

"I could show you a thing or two. See here, your capacitor-"
"I call that a lightning jar. Be careful, it's very-"
"Your lightning jar would hold a stronger charge if you threw out the salt water and lined BOTH the inside and the outside with silver." Blackstar made the changes he described before the wizard could protest. He then picked up a piece of amber from the table and began rubbing it against his sleeve.
"Now you charge the jar with the amber and then-"
By then Firigin had rushed over to stop the crazy mage messing with his equipment. His hand closed on the contraption's chain and he received a tremendous electrical shock that made his hair stand on end! He turned glazed eyes towards Blackstar and his face split to reveal his blinding smile. Clapping his hands, he cried, "That's a far stronger charge than I have ever managed!"

"That is a conundrum. The Druid's request seems urgent. Can we wait?"

"While staying the night does sound welcoming, I think we should pass and get about our journey as soon as possible. Could you take us to the boat now?"

Jeremiah sighed. He's still miffed at the thought of leaving his favorite shield behind, but there's a task to be done if he's to get that Urgaden smiling. He straightened himself up and spoke, "The sooner we find this witch and deal with her, the better. What could go wrong?"

He looked at Blackstar, then thought to himself Oh crud.

That sounds agreeable. Let us move on."

"Yes, let's go."

Firigin's words are met with a long, awkward silence. All that could be heard was the rippling of water and the buzzing of insects flying lazily by.

In the end it is Blackstar who breaks the silence, startling everyone. "Well, I've never admitted this to anyone, but I think 'Twilight' was actually pretty good. Honestly I don't get what the deal is with all the Edward hate." As the mage reveals this secret, his skin, white despite the faint flush from the battle fought earlier that day, literally sparkles, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface.

Nyíl gives Blackstar an awkward look as he prattles on about some apparent shared nightmare he had in the past. "What are you on ab...." she stops mid sentence, and stares at the brilliance that is Blackstar's skin.

Nyíl steps forward, trying to move herself between Firigin and Blackstar. "Let's not start slicing into people, we have work that needs to be done!"

Blackstar uses one of his tentacles to push Firigin's knife away. He bites his lip, turns his face up, eyes closed. His diamond skin sparkles even more brilliantly. He yells, as if in anguish, "I love 'Twilight'! I LOVE IT! It's simply the greatest love story of all time! Oh, Bella..." The mage is too choked up with emotion to say more.

"Looks to be a tight fit, but we should all be able to make the trip!" Nyíl says enthusiastically as she climbs into the mighty vessel.

Jeremiah nonchalantly slides towards the boat. Looks rather snug if you ask me, he thought to himself.

He makes sure that he sits right next to Blackstar, because he learned that oftentimes the safest place to be is at the place where "safe" is least likely to take place.

Blackstar is sitting in the stern, singing "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream..."

As dawn approached, silhouettes of about half a dozen ships appeared over the horizon; they seemed to be stuck in place, blocking the path of our vessel. With the ship coming closer, and the sun shedding more light, Jeremiah saw a seagull whipped out of the sky; living predatory seaweed! They were covering all the ships, trying to drag them into the waters.

Trying to change course Nyíl tries to guide the boat by frantically rowing with her sword but quickly realizes the futility of her plan. "This boat will take us to our death for sure."

She watches in the distance as some of the larger ships start to break apart. The seaweed, apparently satisfied with the destruction of the ships (and a few struggling sailors), seems to ignore the smaller wreckage and the already dead bodies. "I've got a crazy idea..." she yells to the others "...let's flip this boat over, it should still float and trap enough air underneath for us to breath. Just hang on tight!"

The others start to rock left-to-right and within a minute the boats flips over with the party hanging underneath. Quietly as possible she whispers to the others "Don't make a sound and DO NOT MOVE. We want this stuff to think we're just casualties and no longer play things." The magic boat continues on its path, unmolested by the seaweed.

After the longest ten minutes she has ever endured Nyíl slips out from under the boat and looks back as the seaweed continues its destruction. She signals to the others that they're safe and the group sets about righting the boat. Once on board the party continues their journey.

---

A few hours pass by as everyone spends the time drying off and checking on their equipment as the boat continues on its path. Looking up at the blue sky Nyíl is lost in her thoughts as when she notices a strange smell, faint at first, but quickly growing stronger. Suddenly a gray mist envelopes the boat and everyone starts to choke...

Blackstar reaches for the breathing filters in his helmet before remembering they stopped working weeks ago. The strange greasy mist clings to their skin and clothing and the smell is unbearable! The mage racks his brain for a way to rid the party of it, "If only I could wash this off...or burn it! If only this boat had a signal flare!" Only a madman would have thought that last. Thinking it, Blackstar hears a familiar sound in his ears...a great roaring, as if of a furious wind buffeted by colossal wings...his skin turns scaly and shines like gold...he thrusts his hand into the air, fingers curled like talons, and a manifests a great fiery claw. It ignites the mist surrounding them, burning their skin and their lungs. Blackstar has saved them but almost killed them in the process! As the companions lie in the small boat, moaning in pain, the mad mage gathers power to himself again and sends out healing energies to all. Their wounds are cured, but at a price: as each one heals they also sprout a strange eye, limb or appendage. The hideous growths make them wonder if they would rather have died in the mist. Mysteriously, when they awake the next day, they find that the deformities have disappeared. Blackstar sits shivering and muttering softly to himself. His breath comes out in icy puffs. As far as anyone can tell, the sea has frozen over.

Jeremiah scoured the horizon, his breath puffing white smoke as the shivering morn was brightened by the sun.

This is ridiculous, thought Jeremiah. At this rate, we'll never get anywhere!

Then he had an idea. He jumped overboard and began alternating between cracking the ice with his daggers and/or schiavona, and pulling at the raft. He figured that the boat would resist going where it wasn't supposed to go, so based on that, he was able to make sure that they were going the right way.