Tychris' Tomb of Annihilation IC

[zabbarot]

Srirak readied another arrow and fired at the nearest zombie.

Spoiler: action

Show

move focus to new target. Shoot target.

(1d20+4)[22]
(1d8+2)[10]

[Tychris1]

Camp VENGEANCE
Day 17

As Bean's magic set a number of the rabid cannibals to rest the remaining Chultan hunters around her ceased the suddenly uneven opportunity and rushed over their invaders. Spears and mud stained hands clashed in a roaring bloody storm of violence. A fraction of the cannibals still conscious had enough wits about them to look beyond their situation at the heavenly host that was descending on the eastern wall and the roars of a triumphant raging dinosaur annihilating rotting flesh thump by thundering thump. Their maddened spirit broken they routed. The Sorceress of the Morning Lord brought forth scathing light amidst the dark storm defending those acolytes whose flesh was being torn into by the few zombies that piled over, their unholy vitality incapable of carelessly shrugging off Lathander's disdain once an appreciable number of swords and spears aided her. Sister Cyas, holy symbol in hand, rushed the ramparts and threw herself over the wall and onto Siward's armored back in a display of similar heroic madness. But where she went the ephemeral warriors followed and their radiant weapons ripped through the remaining undead horde in a fraction of a second. When all was said and done Siward's form began to shrink and shrivel to its natural state, the heavenly host dispersed, and the remaining soldiers of the Order of the Gauntlet went about desperately bolstering their heavily damaged gate and performing the proper funeral rites amidst the chaotic storm.

Commander Niles Breakbone, his breastplate smothered in dirt, blood, water, and whatever gruesome fluids the rotting zombies carried with them held his hammer on high and shouted to match the storm "MY KNIGHTS! LOWER THAT GATE AND GET THAT BEARDED FOOL IN HERE!"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Combat has ended! The Order of the Gauntlet knights go about destroying most of he corpses and rummaging what they can but it's hard to find anything of worth amidst a battlefield and a full blown tropical rainstorm so if you want to assist in the effort it's an Intelligence (Investigation) check or an Intelligence (Religion) check to perform proper rites. This happened shortly before nightfall so you could skip the formalities and try to wake up early to head back to Port.

[Othniel]

Aleandrae

Her part in the battle over, Aleandrae decided to help in the cleanup and picking-over of the bodies. The smell was revolting, but judicious use of Prestidigitation should help with that, she reckoned.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Been watched with some satisfaction as the cannibals were dispatched by the other Chultan defenders. Cannibals weren't people!

"Good job, Ciaran! Thanks to your reconnaissance, we successfully defended the western front from the allied advance! I assume those cannibals were allied with each other."

The gnome had not been paying much attention to the other side of the camp, and could only whistle at the damage inflicted by the undead.
"Hm. It seems the battle against the rush-ins was much messier to the east. Beep!"

Bean held her mouth open and let rain fall into it.

[PepperP.]

Lyndal

The abrupt end to the battle caught Lyndal off-guard for a moment.

"We won? Oh! We won!" She clasped her arms around Darion for a moment before releasing him and peering over the edge of the wall looking for Siward.

"Siward!" Come on!" She urged Darion to follow as she hurriedly descended the ladder and ran over the disgusting mass of definitely dead-for-real zombies and through the gate to help bring in the big red-haired brute back to the relative safety of the encampment.

[zabbarot]

Srirak put away his bow and followed the soldiers out to make sure there were no survivors. He crushed a few skulls with his club for good measure, but left most the work to the humans. They were notoriously squeemish, and he didn't want to start an argument.

[Tychris1]

Camp VENGEANCE
Day 17
18 Days of Rations Left
5 Days of Repellent Left

The battlefield a shambles the party does the best they can in quickly scavenging amidst horrid conditions. Whipping wind ruining normally heroic hair, Darion and Siward find nothing of particular worth in their flipping of corpses and receiving magical healing. Aleandrae, shrewd enough to sift through the grime and mud around the cannibals unearthed something she couldn't quite describe. A strange curved ritual dagger with an abyssal rune carved upon its bone hilt arises from the mud, the fresh blood of a fallen soldier mired upon its sharp edges, and at its merest touch she felt a deep and residing darkness. Further sifting provided meager spoils, trinkets and baubles the Bard filched and could no doubt sell to a merchant of curiosity. Lastly she found a gourd bottle filled with a strange sloshing odorless liquid. Recuperating over the night, the Acolytes tended to those wounded from the battle, and those healthy enough shored up the defenses of the front gate as much as their situation would allow them. Eventually, the deluge turned to a steady drum beating, then a trickle, and then ceased altogether. The wind from a whip to a warm pressing blanket that assured those who survived that the blood through their veins was hot and rushing indeed. With the abating of the storm night broke once more into glorious day, skies clear of clouds, and the air relatively pleasant. On this the 18th day of their trek into the Jungles of Chult, those brave enough to take the Archwizard's plea reclaimed their boat from within the brutally hallowed walls of Camp VENGEANCE, and gathered what all they needed to head back to Port.

Xandala and Inete prepared themselves in kind too, the Draconic Sorceress and her familiar pleasantly looking upon Lyndal and Bean "I wish you the best of luck in your quest. Hopefully, gods willing, we can meet again under less arduous circumstances. You will always have a friend and companion in me, Lyndal Fireheart." Stepping outside the walls of the Camp she began to put on various heavy bags before shapeshifting herself into a massive Quetzalcoatl with bright blue feathers and eyes that crackled with lightning and gleamed with desert guile. Inete mounted herself upon the polymorphed Sorceress and they headed south along the River Soshenstar. Boats stocked with messages and the horribly disfigured the party began its trek up the river back to Port Nyanzaru. It was a surprisingly pleasant trip of three days, the rain abated for the first before coming down heavier the second day, and hotter on the the third. Wildlife clamored around the party at nearly ever turn, packs of velociraptors watching hungrily from the brush, strange hulking multi-armed sapiens swinging by to drink from the sluggish water, and the strange aroma of fresh fruit and blood was ever present. A choir of birds and flying dinosaurs filled the air with a discordant yet passionate melody, it rose then sank as the sun did, and was only drowned out by the sound of hundreds of piranha's swimming and circling underneath the party's boat before moving on to more accessible prey. Darion's shrewd eyes plucked a glowing sight from a bush growing along the river at night, yielding a small trove of the glowing Wukka nuts native to the island, and in fresh ripe condition for harvesting.

With Port Nyanzaru in the distance the sounds of civilization and the salty port eked out over the warm air. What little could be made out was quickly droned over by the sound of flapping wings, laughter, howling, thumping hands, and rapidly pacing feet. A flock of six flying monkeys perched upon a nearby tree takes interest in the party en route to Port Nyanzaru and begins the process of probing, playing, and running amuck upon the two boats. The soldiers of the Gauntlet are quiet perturbed by the garrulous flying nuisances, clutching their belongings warily, and follow ironically in suit with Goring Almiraj. Azaka instead seems quite amused and taken by the creatures, her hand outstretched for a particularly interested monkey to perch itself upon, and curiously examine her mask.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Aleandrae discovers 4 wooden macabre fetishes and carved tokens which while made by mad minds were still skilled minds nonetheless and worth 10 GP each. A dagger with a strange rune upon it and a gourd bottle filled with a strange liquid. Your three day journey to Port Nyanzaru ends undisturbed on Day 20 with the city within sight during the evening when these flying monkeys begin to clamor about your party. Darion and Srirak loot 6 Wukka nuts from a bush during the morning of the Monkey Day.

[Othniel]

Aleandrae

Aleandrae placed the strange fetishes in her backpack. There would hopefully be an opportunity to sell them once they reached town. The runed dagger she wrapped carefully and secured deep in her pack, while the gourd is placed in the top under clothing to cushion and blows. In preparation for the boat trip down river, the bard kept her shortbow at the ready and eyed the eventual flying monkeys with a mix of delight and distrust. "I kind of want one."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Bean spent most of the trip happily humming various tunes, and chatting with whomever would listen, including her new familiar. The sprite spent a great deal of time invisible, so often it seemed like the warlock were speaking to nobody at all, but the gnome's noise was easy to tune out with the general din of the jungle all around them.

At the arrival of the flying monkeys, Bean clapped in delight.
"Oh, hello friends!"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Not sure if Bean can speak with these things, but if they are small beasts she's certainly willing to try.

[zabbarot]

Srirak

"Get several. They are not much meat."

[Tychris1]

The River Soshenstar
Day 20
2 Days of Repellent Left
15 Days of Rations Left

At Bean's primal tongue the flying monkeys grew more hyper and loud. They accelerated their flight in a manic trajectory and injected their responses to Bean in a stacking haphazard fashion. "Friend?" "People! Look, stuff!" "Food hair?" "Shiny! Shiny!" "HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" "Gimme! I like that." Four of them began to mob over the Warlock, fluttering their wings, and prodding inquisitively at the Gnome. They were dirty, rapacious, and perhaps most surprising to Bean incredibly intelligent. They joked and garrulously conversed with one another in an inane way but from it she got a vague understanding of the monkey's social structure. The smallest of them all, a monkey with solid black fur, deep dark caramel eyes, and a set of wings bedecked with green and blue feathers draped over its back approached the draconic sorceress. A ring of brown fur lined its top but perhaps most unusual was the white chalk markings present on its otherwise charcoal face. A crude three lines, round top, and black spots. A childlike drawing of a humanoid skull. It looked up at Lyndal with a rapt sense of curiosity, its body pulled tight and controlled, and its head nestled itself comfortably in the palm of her hand. It thumped its hands together playfully and began to chitter musically before finally falling victim to the infectious energy of its companions and playing on the Lady Fireheart.

Spoiler: Dexterity Saving Throws

Show

I need everyone to make one. Danger Sense applies.

[PepperP.]

Lyndal

"Uh oh...!" Lyndal exclaimed in surprise and dismay as the adorable monkeys performed their noisy hijiinks. She cringed in anticipation of violence as the others had various items swiped. She cradled her own friendly monkey in her hands to protect it and noticed it held her signet ring in its tiny paws.

"Who's a cheeky monkey? That's you! You're a cheeky monkey!"

[Othniel]

Aleandrae

"My flute! GIVE THAT BACK OR SO HELP ME!" she shouted at the thieving monkey.

[Tychris1]

The River Soshenstar
Day 20
2 Days of Repellent Left
15 Days of Rations Left

Dancing around the party and their companions the monkeys swept, dived, and flitted about spasmodically. They bounced on backs, howled, yelped, and swiped what they could. The largest of them all, an orange specimen of a wider bent grabbed hold of Siward's strapped shield, and in a fit of curiosity pulled it free of its proper place to present it to the other three pranksters. A monkey was dancing about with a crossbow clenched vaguely competently in its hand while another began to beat Aleandrae's magic flute against Siward's shield discordantly. At the bard's shouting the monkeys stirred and began to panick, their wings outstretched to take flight, and a cloud of feathers stirring about in preparation for their departure.

[Jade_Tarem]

"Ah, aaahhh!" Secret hunkered down. "Let me know when the monkey business is over, please!"

[TheDarkDM]

Siward

Taken aback by the flying monkey's surprising strength, Siward roared his protest as his shield was ripped from his arm. Standing from his seat in the boat, he swayed wildly in the tide, eyes growing bloodshot and wild as he leapt for the creature's orange leader.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Siward Rages and attempts to grapple the monkey.

(1d20+5)[6]
(1d20+5)[23]

[PepperP.]

Lyndal

Lyndal cradled her tiny new friend between her hands and held it close to her body protectively to shield its eyes from the violence against its fellows.

"You're safe with me but it's best if you don't look!"

[Tychris1]

The River Soshenstar
Day 20
2 Days of Repellent Left
15 Days of Rations left

Gripped within the hands of the mighty barbarian, the large orange flying monkey quickly released its grip on the shield, and to Bean's innately tuned ears came the sounds of rapid surrender alongside begging for ones life. Lyndal's small black monkey seemed none the wiser in her grip, enthralled by the bejeweled status symbol of her royalty, and it chattered in delight as day turned to night and the travelers now further swollen with loot retired. On the eve of the next day, at the cusp of civilization, the two boats stayed tied up at the edge of Old City, and the Knights prepared their daily prayers as the captive monkeys squatted about. The sun, high and dry pierced through the cloudless sky like a gnashing beasts maw, and it banished all rain from the moist environs. The day was theirs and Port Nyanzaru lay only a stones throw away.

Spoiler: Loot

Show

5 mostly pacified flying monkeys.

[PepperP.]

Lyndal

The dragon-blooded sorceress was filled with nervous energy as she departed the boat. She looked around at her fellows and and tried to fill herself with anticipation for all the chocolate she planned to buy while she was here. So very much chocolate. She set her little monkey friend upon her shoulder and kissed the top of its little head.

"Shall we get this over with then?" Sure, the cascade of events that led to the death of the squad of goons that ambushed them wasn't implicitly hers and Aleandrae's fault but she had a gnawing feeling that everybody might not see it that way. She entwined Darion's arm on her right and Siward's massive bicep on her left and nodded towards the gate. She nodded to the guards and tried not to hold her breath as she passed through the gate.

"The Golden Throne is supposed to be just past the old gate."

[Othniel]

Aleandrae

"May as well while we have all these beautiful strong soldiers at our disposal," Aleandrae quipped. "We march in like we own the place and stare anyone down who so much as looks at us funny."

[Tychris1]

Port Nyanzaru
Day 21
1 Day of Repellent Left
14 Days of Rations Left

The hustle and bustle of city life is as evident as ever to the group as they enter the outskirts of Old City. A wave of people, strange scents, and barking voices trying to grab attention wash over the party continuously threatening to break rank at any moment. The rancid pungent scent of an enormous 400 foot long refuse pit stabs itself into the nostrils of all unlucky enough to live on this side of Nyanzaru a reminder of what must be sacrificed for so many to live so closely together. Rats, insects, and ravens abound lurking in the shadows and glaring at the strange foreigners with hungerous intent. In the distance staggering vagrants pick at the remains of the city in a vain effort to salvage a living. Navigating the Refuse Pit they passed by Executioner's Run where a young triceratops barreled down the pit in chase of five Chultan criminals running for their freedom as a crowd of civilians cheered on in macabre delight. Rows of Zhentarim soldiers glare down at the melange of human life beyond the high fortified walls of Port Nyanzaru and their observing eyes bore into the poor souls brave or thrifty enough to have business entering the city. The sun still low in the sky from morning sits in the sky flanked by two massive stone ziggurats, their long shadows blanketing much of Old City, and perfectly shines upon the gory spectacle of justice and skill that beats behind the scampering party. The Knights of the Gauntlet shove and press their way through bravely and heedlessly of the gruesome spectacle, though their progress is faltering as they stop every dozen or so feet to aid a fallen woman, and a host of other issues their godly mindset cannot abide.

Save for those resistant to the heat of the sun the shadows of the Beggars' Palaces provides a welcome respite to the combined temperature and humidity of the environs and the mass of people or dinosaurs going to and fro. A single wooden bridge creaks and swings precariously overhead of them, connecting the two ziggurats at their top, and from their perch a small group of humans observes the parties approach with a level of bored curiosity while coins are passed subtly from hand to hand. Circling around a decayed and crumbled archway that once might have been a grand barracks beyond the city's walls the party approaches the gates to the Merchant Ward. Far less trafficked then the Old City, a steady trickle of carts towed by herbivorous dinosaurs, merchants, and other officials comes in and comes out. Things seem to be business as usual in Port Nyanzaru, but even to the less astute of the party something feels off, and there is a tangible tension floating unsaid in the air. The Knights march by without so much as a queer glance by the guards and the party follows in suit. Placing a hand over Goring Almiraj's mask, Azaka looks to the rest of the party and says "I'll take the monkeys and the goblin. Rustle some of my friends in the city before they talk to Jobal and try to contact me." For her part the small goblin nodded her head in agreement before snapping at a far too curious monkey. Numbers reduced the party and knights pressed on to Goldenthrone, the massive opulent palace's name clearly evident by the gold roof upon its top, and the glorious gold bas reliefs and filigrees smattered throughout the complex (Which Aleandrae happily notes to be of Amnian design). Another set of high stone walls surround the palace and an honor guard of eight Chultans with rippling thews and massive spears stands guard outside the walls shooing away loiterers and would-be thieves. The Knights approach the honor guard and bear testament their writs, letters, and badges for entry. A murmuring of debate transpires before ultimately one of the guards nods their heads and lets them enter. Entering the palace the party finds themselves in a vast hallway with massive spiraling columns on each side supporting a tiled mosaic overhead. It depicts a warrior abound a triceratops with spear in hand battling an army of winged fiends and other nightmares.

"Zhanthi will meet us in two hours time," Makaris, the lead knight amongst the previously injured and sick sent alongside the party noted "She's currently engaged in some kind of meeting but we'll see her right afterward. In the mean time all we can do is wait." He took his left gauntlet off and began to pray with it alongside the others. After a few minutes pass an assortment of guards and aides enter behind the party, chittering praises in Chultan, discussing various monsters of Chult, and the benefits and disadvantages of ground based exploration. Amidst the various talking heads and sycophants however Darion with his shrewd eyes and honed thieves ear spots one particular individual amidst the throng; Azon, the Majordomo of Merchant Prince Jobal.

[Othniel]

Aleandrae

A hiss of anger escaped Aleandrae's lips as she caught sight of Azon. "I know that jerk was dead," she said quietly, staring at Jobal's lackey without pointing. "Someone should check and see if he reads as an undead creature," she suggested to her companions and the knights nearby. "There's no way he could come back to life with the death plague."

[zabbarot]

Srirak

"If he is back to life, then we should be capturing him. Maybe he will be explaining how." Srirak ducked out of sight and cast a detection spell.

[Tychris1]

Goldenthrone
Day 21

Ducking unceremoniously into a cleaning closet, Srirak prepared his spells for the day, and beseeched Semuanya for the gift of knowledge over life death and all in between. Touched by the Death Lizards divine foresight, Srirak stepped out of the closet, noted the strangeness of human restrooms (To the horror of a guard standing 15 feet away), and worked his way back to the party. Azon and his entourage hadn't moved from their spot in the entry hallway, enthralled in a discussion regarding the increasing price of Tej, and they seemed none the wiser to the Lizard Shaman's machinations. As the guard worked up the courage to approach the aforementioned broom closet and inspect its interior Srirak set about getting into range of the Majordomo and to his surprise noticed not the pungent divine corruption of undeath but the perverse otherworldly essence of fiendom dripping from Azon and a comely Chultan woman around his arm. He also saw the clear outline of a dark green force upon Bean's shoulder; a Fey creature of minuscule size. Azon's eyes met with Srirak's as he scanned the group for the briefest of moments before losing interest and moving on. A courtier soon arrives to the hallway and ushers for Azon to accompany him to see the Merchant Princess Kwayothé. His attendants are discarded, forced to wait by the entrance, and without their master present they relapse to idle gossip and sycophantic chatter. Occasionally between their hushed whispers they glance in the direction of the party, flitting eyes falling on Lyndal, and many more lingering on Aleandrae's striking form.

[Othniel]

Aleandrae

For her part, Aleandrae pays little attention to the guards. Unnerved by Srirak's news that Azon was, in fact, fiendish in nature, but trusting her companions to watch her back (which she slowly turned to the guards), she nodded to Jack and Darion. "You two feel like some reconnoitering?"

[Nefarion Xid]

"I feel like this ends with me naked, tied to a wicker chair with a hole in the seat." Darion sighed. "What do you want accomplished?"

[Othniel]

Aleandrae

"Follow that Azon jerk. See what he's up to." Aleandrae suggested cheerfully. "You're a smart lad; I'm sure you'll think of something. I have an invisibility spell for anyone that wants one. Well, any two people."

[Tychris1]

Goldenthrone
Day 21

Seeing their opportunity to act, Darion, Jack, and Aleandrae seize the moment to chase after their fiendish target. Quickly working an illusory ditty Aleandrae watches as Darion vanishes from sight as Jack casually saunters about pretending to be important or interested in the history of the land. Trailing behind Azon, Jack and Darion round a few corners before finally Azon’s retinue stops at a gilded door with inlaid rubies. Jack was forced to stay back a few dozen feet, her back pressed flush against the wall like the deck of a ship at storm, and Darion lurks inches from the two rippling chultan men stationed next to the door. Invisible ear pressed to the door, Darion holds his breathe, and focuses his years of trained eavsedropping to listen in on the other side.

”It’s good to see you, Azon.”
“And you aswell.”

A chair squeaks as it is adjusted then creaks lightly as someone sits in it. But then; silence. Utterly empty of noise, Darion only faintly hears the sound of breathing, and can hardly discern between whether it’s from the people right next to him or the people inside.

[Nefarion Xid]

Magical silence. Some spell against eavesdropping. Tensor's Bloody Private Whatever. Darion sighed breathlessly and returned to his companions with haste where he whispered what he had seen and then not heard.

"Some spell against eavesdropping. Tensor's Bloody Private Whatever. I'll return to tail him if you want. See where he goes from here? Watch who else goes in? I don't know how much quality information I'll be able to get. This man's careful."

[Othniel]

Aleandrae

"I don't want to have you take too big of a risk, Darion," the Bard whispered, trying to not look like she was holding a conversation with the thin air. "Better if we all stay together, probably. Azon and his boss are sure to know we're in town soon, if they don't already. I expect an ambush at some point. Though it would be nice to know more about what they're up to."