Chult Hex Crawl - IC

[tonberrian]

Nyx swings her enchanted blade at the most wounded zombie in reach!

Spoiler

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To hit in OOC, (1d8+4)[10] damage.

[agignac]

Nyx steps forward, avoiding Bliksem on the ground, and delivers a devastating blow to the zombie. Cut nearly clean through, it tumbles to the ground in a pile of gore.

Trusting to the others to keep the zombies from her, Nolwenn turns her magic against the girallon zombie, which was ravaging Lady Ziri. Her missile fly unerringly to the beast, again knocking chunks of flesh and bone into the surrounding foliage. Draelin's arrow followed in short order, finding a home in its right eye. Unfortunately, pain didn't bother it, however, and even these attacks wasn't enough to send it to the jungle floor.

The Red Horns, flying above the battle, and Xarmus, standing near the cliff face, each attacked different skeletons. Red Horn's target went down in a cascade of bones, torn apart by the ykwla and the steel defender. Xarmus knocked the jaw straight off the other zombie, but it continued its attack.

The girallon, seeing his target down, keeps moving forward, mindless rage fuelling it. The satyr was the next object of its fury, and it attacked with all four arms, pounding relentlessly. Qwasha steps forward, swinging his staff at the four-armed undead, but the beast's shaggy fur absorbed the blow.

The final zombie shambles towards Nyx, slamming her with a fist trailing ribbons of meat. She could feel her shoulder creak, and her arm felt heavier as pain radiated down into her ribs.

The last standing skeleton picked its bony feet up over the unmoving form of Ziri, to stab its sword at the druid. Qwasha's spell repelled the blow, saving him from a possible killing strike.

Everybody up.

Spoiler: battle details

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Girallon hits Xarmus 3 times, for 19 points of damage. (rolled in discord)
Zombie hits Nyx for 3 HP
Skelly misses your guide.

[Pyrophilios]

Having cleared the northern flank, The Red Horns concentrated on the Girallon next. His construct was already in place, so he commanded it to attack and continue to hinder the large undead creature.

He himself flew in closer again, threw his weapon and received it back the instant it struck

Spoiler

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Steel defender attack (bonus action TRH)
(1d20)[13]+8, damage (1d8+2)[3], if crit (1d8)[8]

Using deflect attack on Girallon to keep his bite from hitting

Close in to 10 ft for Yklwa attack
(1d20)[14]+8, damage (1d8+6)[13], if crit (1d8)[5]

Move out of range again

Edit: Total damage 16

[The Hellbug]

Though she's personally unharmed, Nolwenn knows she can't keep this up too much longer--her allies are wounded, and each spell she casts is harder than the last. The girallon falling with a resounding crash spurs her on though. With a glance at her fallen allies, she lets loose her spell again, sending bolts of energy at the zombie and . Hold on, just a little longer.

Spoiler: OOC

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Another Magic Missile, this one a level 1 slot! (Sensing a theme here)
Sending two missiles at the zombie by Qawasha and one at the skeleton by Xarmus.

Two missiles zombie: [roll] 2d4+2[/roll] rerolled in the discord--8 damage
One missile skeleton: (1d4+1)[3]

[Holy-hunter]

Xarmus, in his self preservation, takes the dodge action. Focusing on avoiding anymore attacks.

[Volthawk]

Draelin feels a little relief at the sight of the Red Horns dropping the girallon, but doesn't let it distract too much from lining up his next shot, aiming at the zombie - they weren't done and safe yet.

Spoiler

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The usual Steady Aim into attack thing.

Attack: (1d20+6)[20] / (1d20+6)[19]
Damage: (1d8+4)[11] weapon + (2d6)[5] SA

[tonberrian]

Nyx runs up and slashes the last of the enemies!

Spoiler

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(1d20+6)[16] to hit, (1d8+4)[11] Damage

[agignac]

Arrows, blades, and arcane energy are enough to finish the last few undead. Less than a minute after the undead stumbled upon them, they had been vanquished. But at what price?

Bliksem and Lady Ziri lay dead on the blood-and-gore soaked ground. The tabaxi had been pummeled, but it was having his head stepped on by the zombie that had finished him off. The iron lady had likewise succumbed to the ferocious pummeling the girallon had given her, her porcelain face as expressionless in death as it had been in life. Somewhere in Chult, a hag was laughing. The silver lining, small as it was, was that she hadn't let the canoe fall, even in death.

[Pyrophilios]

The Red Horns landed - unharmed in body, but wounded nonetheless.

He turned to the trampled corpses of their fallen comrades:
"Bliksem. I'm very sorry that we couldn't keep you with us. I hope Xarmus can sing you a dirge that would have satified your refined taste." He kneeled for a moment, taking a small tuft of the tabaxi's hair.
He turned to the inert construct body of Ziri: "And I am sorry that you didn't make it through, though I'm not sorry that you died while keeping the rest of us alive. I hope your spark lives on." He kneeled again and took a large shard of her porcellaine mask. Both items went into his bag
"Should we one day get the opportunity for a true resurrection, I'll be ready."

He turned his attention to the slain undead girallon. With little ceremonie, he hacked off it's claws and head, put both into a separate leather bag, before stowing them.
"It's better not to let this particular specimen come back with it's natural weapons."

He composed himself for a moment before he said: "Right, time to dig a resting place for our friends and dispose of the remaining undead bodies. But first, we have to get the remaining canoe up."

[The Hellbug]

Nolwenn, by merit of never having moved far from the cliff's edge, is already standing over her dead companions by the time The Red Horns lands, tears in her eyes. And there they are, the tabaxi who never lacked for a joke and the steel maiden whose strength had seemed unending, just...there. She nods along with Red's eulogizing. Bliksem, I wish I had something more for you than a joke, but maybe that's what you'd have wanted...

When the tiefling bends over to take pieces from the corpses, though, Nolwenn is shocked. "What are you doing?" she askes indignantly, "you don't even know if she's dead! And are you just going to keep carrying that around for...whatever you do with all those things you take? If I died right here, would you be chopping my finger off for later?"

[Pyrophilios]

The Red Horns looked puzzled:
"Alive? But... can't you feel it? The spark, it's gone. And yes, of course if you were beyond help I'd make sure to get a strand of your hair to bring you back if I had the chance.
Do you want your companions to be dead?"

[Holy-hunter]

Xarmus remained both speechless and horrified by the scene before him as his companions bickering continued on like a white noise in the background.
The last few moments were replaying over and over again in his mind. The sights, the sounds, the smell.
He had seen death before but not like this. Never undeath. Never had he been so close to joining them himself. That monster had really done a number on him. He could still feel it’s powerful hands clawing through his body, taste it’s stagnant rotten breath as it roared in his face, see the putrid decaying flesh hanging off its muscles, he could still feel it’s horrifyingly cold and unnatural want for meaningless destruction.

Xarmus collapsed onto the ground heavily and began to sob silently. His chest heaving and jerking. He cried in sorrow, in remorse and in relief.
“Still alive” he whispered to himself. ”Still alive.”

[Pyrophilios]

The Red Horns gave his construct a short command and the creature began to dig.

Meanwhile he walked over to Xarmus and sat a hand on the Satyr's shoulder: "Would you mind playing a dirge for the dear departed? We need to grief now so we can move on later."

[Volthawk]

Looking over the scene in front of him, Draelin sighs. He'd known coming in that something like this might happen - to him, let alone someone else - but to be reminded of it so quickly was...unpleasant. But that was the risk you took for the prizes they were after. They had to keep going. Nodding to himself, he walks over to the group. "Red's right, we need to get the canoe up sooner rather than later - that might not have been the last of the undead in the area. And don't forget to check their pockets and take their packs before burying them. We can't afford to leave good supplies behind."

[agignac]

Qawasha helps Kupalue up to his feet - the vegepygmy had tumbled into the bracken in his haste to get away from the zombies. The druid looks sorrowfully upon the fallen members of the party. "I am deeply sorry for your loss. This only furthers my resolve to rid this jungle of the undead threat. The circle of life ends in death, but this undeath...." He sighs deeply, clearly rattled.

The remaining party members are able to get the 2nd canoe the rest of the way up the cliff without further difficulties. Now came the unpleasant task of carrying them through the jungle. It took everybody helping to either carry the canoes, or carry everything else.

The jungle is close here, the tree trunks tall and covered in bromeliads and vines. Giant flowers, thorny bushes, and foot-catching roots abound, and travel is slow going. There are no game trails, here, not many signs of life on the ground. Above, monkeys chatter and birds sing, but on the ground, it's silent. Except for the constant drone and whine of insects; they seem particularly veracious here; perhaps the undead do not provide enough blood for them to feast on. You do see occasional sign that the undead have passed through, leaving behind bits of flesh and bone as they tear away from their bodies.

Qawasha, leading confidently at first, starts to hesitate more and more often. He knows they need to go west, but under the canopy, it's not always possible to determine direction. When the jungle starts to dim, he finally calls you all to rest for the night. You need to cut away some of the vines to make a clearing big enough for everybody.

Any reactions to the big day? I'd like perception checks for anybody who takes a watch tonight. Also, great battle everybody, inspiration for all.

[Pyrophilios]

Despite the exhausting day, The Red Horns continued with his by now established routine: 4 hours of stillness while he kept watch with his construct, followed by 4 hours of work.

Spoiler

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Perception: (1d20+4)[15]
Steel Defender Perception (1d20+4)[18] (can't be surprised)

[The Hellbug]

"Alive? But... can't you feel it? The spark, it's gone. And yes, of course if you were beyond help I'd make sure to get a strand of your hair to bring you back if I had the chance.
Do you want your companions to be dead?"

Nolwenn shakes her head at the callousness of her companions. Red is right about Ziri, though. As still as she had been, the paladin had always reacted when addressed. Nevertheless... "Of course not!" she replies, "but they are, and you're just treating it like, like, like it's an everyday thing! Do you have any respect for the dead?"

However, Draelin and Red's appeals to pragmatism do spur the wizard on, but she's uncharacteristically silent aside from what's necessary for coordinating carrying the canoes for the rest of the day.

______

That night, though, she does suddenly have a question for their guide. "Qawasha," she begins as they work by the fire, "where do all these undead come from? They don't exactly just get up out of the ground where I'm from; something has to animate them. What's going on in this part of the jungle?"

[Pyrophilios]

Nolwenn shakes her head at the callousness of her companions. Red is right about Ziri, though. As still as she had been, the paladin had always reacted when addressed. Nevertheless... "Of course not!" she replies, "but they are, and you're just treating it like, like, like it's an everyday thing! Do you have any respect for the dead?"

"I have the highest respect for our departed companions. But no, I do not venerate death. Not as long as there are ways to conquer death. Think about it: We have proof of the afterlife, we can bring people back and we know of ways to become immortal. Oh death, where is thy sting...

We suffered a setback - but there is no reason to have it be a permanent one." The Red Horns replied.

[agignac]

Qawasha looked up at Nolwenn's question, as if surprised she had to ask it. Then he shook his head a little, "Ah, yes, of course, you are from foreign shores. I suppose most people assume the world knows their history, but I am as ignorant of your lands as you are of mine.

"It began a little more than one hundred years ago. There was a great port city called Mezro. A holy city, ruled by seven barae - the chosen of Ubtao. Ah, but I see you don't know that name. He was our god, the god of Chult, for many millenia. He chose the barae, and they were undying, and had great power. One of the seven was a Ras - I believe a Duke would be your equivalent term, or perhaps Earl? - named Nsi. Ras Nsi was a great human paladin, sworn to protect Mezro.

"But something evil happened in his heart, and Ras Nsi broke his vow. He was exiled from Mezro, and sought his revenge by attacking it with a great army of undead. The battle was long and fierce and took many lives. Lives which fueled Ras Nsi's unholy army.

"It was the Spellplague that ended the war. Much of the Wailing Years has been lost, but we know that Mezro was destroyed, and Ras Nsi killed. His undead army, however, survived the Spellplague, and freed from control, spread through Chult like a plague. We prayed to Ubtao to save us, but he turned his face from Chult. Abandoned by our god, we Chultans have been driven out of our jungle by the waves of undead. So I fight them where I can, as should all moral folk, that one day we can reclaim the fullness of our homeland."

Turning to the Red Horns, the druid said, "If I may ask - you do not seem to be entirely alive. And yet you are no mindless undead. Would you tell us your tale?"

[Holy-hunter]

Performance (1d20+6)[8]
Survival (1d20+7)[17]

It took the satyr a while but eventually he put on a tune. It was an awkward one, definitely not his best, as he struggled with his emotions and what emotions he ought to portray. Fear creeping into his thoughts and causing his aching fingers to tremble ever so slightly.

Later he aided in scavenging supplies from the fallen. If the others didn’t like what the Tiefling was doing then they sure wouldn’t of liked what he was about to do. But Xarmus has the decency to hide his actions. While removing supplies or examining wounds he subtly took a few slithers of flesh to later feed the bird.

Their bodies would later go to the animals anyway, no point being sentimental about it when they could use a bit of meat to get a scout in the sky.

As they traveled Xarmus helped discern their direction, noticing their guide struggle.

[Pyrophilios]

Turning to the Red Horns, the druid said, "If I may ask - you do not seem to be entirely alive. And yet you are no mindless undead. Would you tell us your tale?"

The Red Horns was silent for a long moment before he answered: "There are some things in this world, worse than death. I ran afoul of one of them. It is said that our memories are who we are and that forgetting is the same as dying. So in that sense I died about a year ago. I do not really remember anything about my previous life. I have gathered some knowledge about who I was before, but my current existence and my current memories began about a year ago when I awoke next to a burned book, a bloody knife and thousands of words neatly carved into my skin - by my own hand no less. Something partook of my mind and maybe my soul, leaving me... diminished. Not quite dead but not exactly alive either. Since then both brothers, Sleep and Death are no longer interested in me.

Since then I am searching for answers - and maybe a way to regain my memories if not my mortality. Which is why I've been drawn to these jungles. The powers of undeath are strong around here. And if there is a place where the demonic scourge that seems to haunt me is likely to meet its equal, I presume to find it here too.
Ironically, I likely could regain all by just reading the scar script on my body - though I believe it would cost me my sanity and my life to do so without shoring up my will, my body and what remains of my soul."

[agignac]

Qawasha looked thoughtful after The Red Horns told his tale. "There are more mysteries upon this earth than we can ever begin to understand," he said. "Thank you for sharing your tale. You have given me much to ponder."

The next day dawned cloudy, and rather than the brief monsoons they'd grown used to, instead they endured a steady rain all day. The warm downpour made the jungle even more unpleasant; at least the most of the bugs were hiding for the day. Qawasha struggled with his bearings, the canoes were heavy, and nobody was having a good time. Twice you stumble across undead, but only singly or in pairs, and they are put down with no injuries to the living.

At least there is no trouble collecting clean drinking water as you rest that night, and the rain lets up in the wee hours. Nobody notices the eye-shine of the creature that watches you for a few minutes in the middle of the night.

The next morning dawns bright and muggy, and with a low-lying mist hanging over the steaming vegetation. Shouldering the canoes, the party trudges on. By midday, the trees seem to thin out a bit ahead, and you soon discover why.

You come up to a large clearing, at least 500 feet across. The ground here is slightly swampy. About ten feet in front of you stands a wall of briars and thorns, 20 feet high and running in either direction. It appears to have a slight curve to it, as if you're standing outside a big circle, perhaps one big enough to enclose most of the clearing.

Skeleton bones litter the ground between the jungle and the thorny wall. You can hear a vague moaning sound, and walk a few feet along the wall to find a pair of zombies skewered on the long thorns. They are twisting weakly, trying to get free, but they are too completely impaled.

[tonberrian]

Nyx is the first to blast the impaled zombies. "Ugh, it's so hot, and I'm bored. When do we get to the adventure?"

[Pyrophilios]

The Red Horns looked at the thorn wall then at their guide:

"What is this place? Why did you lead us here?"

After getting the answer, The Red Horns took to the air to take a look over the wall.

[The Hellbug]

Quite frankly, Nolwenn is miserable. Between the awful weather and hauling the heavy canoes, she hardly has time for her thoughts to drift to her lost companions, but whenever she does, it's almost like a fresh wound. In addition, Qawasha's story about the origins of the rambling undead army and Rad's revelation about himself leave a bitter taste in her mouth, but she doesn't ring it up.

Confronted with the enclosure of thorny vines, she takes a deep breath while setting her packs down while thinking on its significance. "Looks like its meant to keep the undead out, but that's no guarantee whoever made it is friendly," Nolwenn offers, "but it it's instead meant to keep something in..." The wizard shrugs as she dangles that possibility.

When The Red Horns begins to take to the air, though, she tries to stop him. "Probably not you!" she calls out as he takes off, gesturing at the impaled zombies, "even if whoever in there is friendly, they won't trust if you if they recognize you."

[Pyrophilios]

The Red Horns returned after only a few seconds:
"It seems like a colony of frog men - with a large idol in the shape of a frog head. Talk to them at your own risk, but I don't think they are particularly friendly."

[agignac]

The Red Horns takes to the air, flying up to peer over the wall of briars. As he gains altitude, the first thing he sees is a giant building, shaped like a frog. It is surrounded by a swampy body of water. The drier bits are covered with primitive huts and reed buildings. As he clears the top of the hedge, he realizes that it's in fact a labyrinth. Twisty, thorn-filled passages prevent anybody from directly approaching the village. Here and there within the labyrinth, he catches flashes of golden light, as if there are statues or other golden objects hidden within.

Several small, frog-people are wandering around the village. Suddenly somebody shouts an alarm, and seconds later one of the frog-folk starts banging a large gong. Several of them scan the skies, then spot The Red Horns. He drops out of sight before they can raise their bows and shoot him.

Upon describing the scene to the others, Draelin searches his memory and comes up with something. He knows the frog-folk worship a primitive deity called Nangnang, and this is likely a shrine to her, and a village built around it.

Qawasha is able to expound further. "This must be the village of Dungrunglung. I have heard of it, but never been here. My apologies, I have led us further south than I meant to. The grung are excellent hunters, but rarely attack a superior foe. I have my bearings now, and we can continue if you like."

[The Hellbug]

"Wait wait wait wait," Nolwenn interjects, images of dozens of bipedal frogs sneaking into their camp in the night running through her head, "Excellent hunters? Not particularly friendly? Would they be opportunistic enough to attack someone moving through the jungle as slow and water-logged and lost as we are right now? It might be best if we confront them now and talk to them; it could be safer in the long run if we show them we're reasonable and capable--not to be bothered with--now than risk them getting any ideas. But I'm not exactly an expert on frog-people. Grung, you said they were? Can you speak to them?" She pauses for a moment after her question before one more addition. "It'd be a chance to get directions, too. Feels like we've been going nowhere the past day."

[Pyrophilios]

"Ehm... You want to make those, probably hostile, jungle adapted hunters aware of us? Visit them in their camp where they have the advantage in numbers against us - instead of a hunting party that only theoretically might catch up with us. Which language do they even speak? And what is the correct etiquette for frog men interaction?"
The Red Horns asked somewhat incredulous, but smoothly continued:

"Well, I guess we could always ask nicely first."

[The Hellbug]

Nolwenn lets the gong being rung in alarm speak for itself and raises a finger to indicate 'one'. "They already are," she corrects and gestures to the soaked party and the heavy canoes on the ground, raising a second finger, "and we're not moving anywhere fast. Jungle hunters that I've been assured they are, I'm sure they'd have no problem tracking us. What I'm saying is that it might be wiser to deal with them here, where we know where they are, rather than risking knives in the dark tonight or the next night or whenever."