The Lords of Life and Death

[Wavelab]

"May I spend some time alone with the subject? Just a few minutes before we start anything. I think I might have an idea on how to solve his problem. All I require is a room and him to be fully restrained." Siggeir said, thinking about what he can do.

[Kazyan]

Istid stared blankly at the ill-looking human. Partway through his speech, she began to chuckle, but let him finish. "Winged? These are fins!" she tapped a uncovered spine close to her right hand, then winced as she felt a sharp pain at the edge of the dry webbing. "And it's about to crack. That's awful. Oh, who's the King?" She wrapped her arms around Anthony's shoulders. "Angels? You're confusing me. I don't know a lot; I'm not originally from Landsend."

[Sneaky Weasel]

Malain squints through the driving wind, trying to keep an eye out for any dragonspawn below. Now that he didn't have to worry about being killed, he actually found flying rather enjoyable. He was moving far faster than he could ever hope to on his own, and there was no pain throbbing through his legs. The wind stung his eyes, but the majestic vistas below more than made up for it. For once, he felt almost free.
Death was not a fear for him. If he died here, in the cool air and sunlight, that would be a good way to go. It would almost be a boon. But no. Revenge must come first. Then rest.
He focused once more on the ground below, keeping a lookout for anything of interest.

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Spot: (1d20+12)[23]

[Dr.Orpheus]

Runing back for a second after hearing Siggeir, Les says "Well uhh... Siggeir ya can yap at de existin' fella *hic* and me and Joan can explore dat boat." then stumbles in his drunkenness.

[nyarlathotep]

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Sorry for moving through this post a bit quickly, but I'm trying to make up for lost time.

While taking careful care not to touch him the group of guards guides the doppelganger to follow Siggeir to the port's old trade goods inspection house, now disused do to the lack of trade and lack of smuggling even if there were goods being exchanged.

Doppelganger: I swear I swear. I'm the real Edgar, I don't know what that corpse is but I'm the real Edgar!

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To be continued via PM

Shortly after Siggeir moves off you purpose your plan to Mayor Ashley.

Ashley: Thank you for volunteering to explore the ship. After what happened to Edgar and the scene they saw in the next room I don't think I would be able to convince anyone else to enter. Amongst the corpses we found a passage leading to the lower levels but covered in holy scripts of sealing to a god none of us recognized. If you're going to go down there I would advise doing to only with extreme caution.

Following that quick debriefing Joan and a hobbling Les enter the iron leviathan. Its exterior is covered in pock marks and dents obviously from impacts with large rocks, but also several long rents that cannot be so easily explained. The entrance is an airtight door sealed with circular tumble handle that has been opened by previous exploration.

The first room is a preparation room with numerous pieces of clothing for various types of environments, parkas and snow shoes for tundra travel, air-tanks for diving or high altitude travel, and at least one pressure suit for deep sea diving. This room is relatively intact save for the signs of struggle with the doppelganger that ended up outside before your group arrived. The door leading further into the ship is a similar airtight apparatus to the outer door.

The next room however is a fair less pleasant sigh to behold. The room was obviously once a main control room, filled with steering mechanisms, valves to release pressure on the boilers below, and bells to alert the crew to emergencies. Now however the room is covered in swaths of blood and festering gore. At six mostly whole, but headless, bodies of men in black fullplate are laying against the stern wall as though placed there with great care or that they sat down there of their own accord. Scattered throughout the room are enough disconnected body part to make at least half a dozen more victims, but they appear to have been clothed in something much less durable than these knights. The only exit from this room save for the one you entered through is a metal hatch leading directly downward in the room's center. It is covered in pieces of parchment in a language neither Lester nor Joan can recognize, though both of them can see some familiar words and phrases, indicating that it likely has a come root language with human common.

Both of the investigator's keen senses can pick up a sound coming from beyond the hatch. It is the sound of great blizzard's winds racing through a narrow canyon and echoing for a full half minute before a new gust of wind comes to drown out the old one.
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Back with Istid.

Hermit: Am sorry miss, terribly sorry for reminding you of injury. I cannot see well and I was told you were a f- f- *he stumbles over the syllable as though it is foreign to him* fae, and assumed your veils were wings. It is always good to meet another of the sea, Dagon is of the sea and he give us food.

Sorry lost track. The King and his Angels are not of Landsend, neither am I. I am from north, far far north. He and his Angels are the creators of this world, well by proxy. They are the creators of the sun who in turn created the world, and after the sun's betrayal he has decided to give the sun's children a chance to show their loyalty, to escape his damnation.
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Malain's observations are met by nothing more than coniferous forest for the first hour of flight, but just after he begins to lose focus something emerges from the foliage. There is a broken keep tower atop a hillside, long abandoned by humans, but now the abode of dragonbloods. It is under siege by undead attackers. Within are the animalistic degenerations of humans and dwarves infected by dragonblight. They are directed by a gorilla sized man with enormous leathery wings growing from his solder blades. Also within the compound, visible through the keep's dis-repaired roof, are at least a dozen uninfected humanoids huddled together under makeshift blankets of burlap and straw.

Outside of the keep is an gigantic creature at least twenty feet long that resembles the rotted front half of a humanoid torso, it's spinal cord trialling off into nothing but rot shortly before the pelvis would appear. It's flesh is grey and covered in yellow sores oozing pus, whose very touch causes the ground to blacken and crack. This creature's head is that of a skeletal horse's safe increased in size so that it could comfortably sit atop any elephant's body, and housing a tongue longer than the head it belongs to. Malain, not having been much for church going isn't sure what sin this horrible abomination represents but its followers are easy to peg. Swarming around the creature are eight vampire spawn, embodiments of pride and currently the foot soldiers working on scaling the keep's walls while their master batters down the main gate.

[Dr.Orpheus]

Les throws up seeing the gruesome sight although it does not help that he is drunk. After some effort he clears his mind and readies himself. "Joan I think some magic is in order."

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I cast Longstrider on Joan and myself then I cast barkskin on myself and I cast Magic stone twice for a total of 6 magic stones.

[NotScaryBats]

Joan examines the scene with a cool detachment that only an undead like herself could employ. These men will need proper funeral rights when Simon is free, she thinks to herself.

As Les evacuates his stomach on the floor, Joan smiles reassuringly at him, saying, "Magic will be a good idea, I think. Gird yourself, Les, who knows what might await us belowdecks."

She readies her shield and closes the door leading outside; if they were defeated, hopefully the beast would still be locked in here, unable to ravage the city. With a final glance at Les to ensure he is prepared, she removes the wards and swings the door open, her undead Darkvision piercing the shadows below.

"Be you demon, beast, or monster, I am Joan of Constance and I have come to investigate this ship. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear from me -- but if you are wicked, come and meet your end by my hand." She draws her sword swiftly and enters the next room, ready for anything.

[Sneaky Weasel]

Malain cursed vehemently when he saw the battle below. He should just leave the dragonspawn to their fate, let the undead kill them. But he had to keep up a pretense, and the undead were almost as bad...Damn it!
"Brother! Below us, we need to help them!" His words felt like ashes in his mouth, almost choking him with the horrible irony. It felt like he was betraying every person who the dragonspawn had killed, like he was breaking his promise of vengeance. But he knew the for true vengeance, he needed to do this. At least it was undead attacking, and not people. He didn't know what he would do in that situation, and he hoped he would never find out.

[nyarlathotep]

Past the door Joan and Les encounter a grim scene. This was a mess hall with two tables long enough to seat at least sixteen crewmen at a time. They are both smashed and covered in dried blood. Directly beside the door they entered from is the body of a man in scarlet wizard's robes, who is much more intact than those on the upper deck, but still appears to have died of violence. His neck is splayed open by two large claw mark, leaving his once black beard caked with hardened plasma.

On the opposite wall how is something that immediately draws the eyes of both investigators. It is a creature resembling a man ten feet tall and composed of the skin and bones of other men, their starving emaciated faces bulging out of chest and shoulder. It head is that of a skeletal deer, and is instantly recognizable as a wendigo, the result of one human being feasting upon another not only out of necessity but also out of a perverse pleasure. It is impaled by sword glowing with a slight golden aura, and covered in runes of the same language as the holy scripts encountered before. The beast is struggling with all its might, but appears unable to move the sword in any way.

Behind the creature is a hallway leading to cabins that have all been broken into and debris would indicate their occupants were murdered therein or dragged out fighting. There is also a door to the still red hot boiler room, that was apparently automated enough to allow the ship to land.

Upon seeing the two visitors the wendigo opens its mouth and produces a sound like the wind they had heard earlier, only this time intermixed are sound not unlike shrill whispers that can be understood as the common tongue.

Wendigo: Go ahead. Kill me for your red cloaked masters, but you will never take the north. We will always be coming for you and your flesh. The south will be our farmland, and we will reap it as we please.
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Malain's winged companion cranes its neck attempting to get a whiff of the enemies below. It then begin accelerating down towards them.

Roc: I can smell the big one, if there are more I can't sense them, it's smell masks almost anything else moving in the area. You have fast sharp knives, I will drop you on top and then you can attack from atop its back while I circle and tear.

[Dr.Orpheus]

"Well what do ya say Joan? I guess we should kill him sense its evil and all, but he could know somethin'?"

[NotScaryBats]

"Unexpected." Joan says slowly, trying to wrap her mind around what is going on here. If this creature is from the north, where did this fancy ship come from? The same place? How come no one recognizes the design? What is this language? Red cloaks...

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Religion check to see if I can tell anything about the significance of the cloaks, wards, etc. (1d20+3)[16]

"Your death needn't be senseless. Tell me where you hail from and what your story is, that I might give you proper rites upon your passing." She addresses the monstrosity without irony or scorn, but genuine pity. It would be a shame for any soul to be lost in these trying times.

[Kazyan]

"Whose damnation, again? Umm...Dagon's not the King, right? I think I'm getting it." Istid nods. She doesn't actually understand everything the hermit says; the point of pain on her fin distracts her. "What are we supposed to do for the sun, then? I know I can fight, because I endure hits really well. Is that a good thing for him?"

[Sneaky Weasel]

Malain swallows uneasily as he examines the massive undead below. He hated undead. They didn't have the decency to die when the were killed, and they were at least twice as hard to eliminate then regular foes. But he had some tricks up his sleeve when it came to dealing with them, so he wasn't too worried. Flames kill most anything, after all. The only thing worrying him was the poison that still made him as weak and slow as a kitten.
"Alright, drop me when I say now." He watched the creature as the roc circled, waiting for it to get close enough. He didn't want to break a limb falling on it, after all.
"Now!" As the roc lets go, Malain goes into a dive, angling his body so that he lands on the creature without damage, the breath leaving his body as he collides with it. Not stopping for an instant, he raises his blade in the air, twirling it. As he does so, flames spring up along it's length, crackling in the cool morning air. He stabs it down with a vicious yell, and the flames flash out in an explosion of blue fire, smashing into the vampire spawn as well as the undead he targeted.

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Tumble Check, to eliminate falling damage: (1d20+6)[15](21)

Attacking with Death Mark: (1d20+8)[18](26) (I'm not sure if falling on it would count as a charge attack, if so, add 2 to the attack roll)

Damage from Death Mark: (1d4)[1](1) and (6d6)[5][4][3][1][2][5](20) Fire Damage to the undead targeted and everything in a radius depending on it's size. If it's Huge, which seems most likely, then it's everything in a 30 ft. radius. Reflex Save DC 19 halves damage.
Hoping to take out a couple Spawn.

[nyarlathotep]

The ship's hold the wendigo pauses for a bit, apparently suprised at what Joan had said.

Wendigo: "You're not some zombie raised by the Red Wizards then are you. How far did this ship get then, fascinating? I'll tell you my story then.

I was one of a dozen children sent to a shrine of the great lord Dagon. We were told it was an honor, we were to become his vessels on earth, we would be great soldiers capable of defeating the Red Wizards, the Glass Princes, and all other enemies of Donn. I was the only church goer among us, the rest were too fidgety and would run around and play while the old shamans were talking, so I knew what his vessels were. I knew that I had to eat the others and become a wendigo.

Actually consuming the flesh was no big problem, after all in hard winters we ended up eating those who died in one way or another, I understand that is taboo among you Southerner who have enough farmland to get through the winter. I hadn't however up until that point killed anyone, at least not anyone who was still fit enough to fight back. It was horrible, but it gave me the strength to fight you white skinned fattlings, and did your kind ever taste so good. How do you taste like flesh from heaven? You eat the same wheat and corn you feed your livestock, but they taste like ash, just like the plants you feed them.

As for my funeral rites. I should have been back on the battlefield, to be consumed by my squire when I fell. Here there is no funeral for me, so far from those pure of blood and hard of spirit."

With that the wendigo stops talking and stops struggling against the sword having apparently accepted his fate.

As for your knowledge check you remember that humans were originally colonists from a far off homeland, and that most heraldry and holy symbols from that land used red as a prominent color. It is possible that this ship is from the homeland for some reason and as a result the holy symbols are likely harder to decipher because they would include long names of nobility due to old humanity primarily practicing ancestor worship.
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The hermit continues to talk crazy at Istid.

Hermit: No Dagon is the King's son and servant. All of the stars were the King's servants including our sun, but he betrayed the King, and was cast out. We must prove that we do not follow him. We need to get the son of the King and the son of Man *nodding to Anthony* to the mountains where Angels sleep. There we will show we are good children and help the Angels kill the worms and dragonspawn who seek to help the sun. They are making a New Dawn that will damn all of us like they were damned.
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Already weakened by the sun overhead, five vampire spawn turn to ash when the fire sweeps over them. There remaining three begin running up the torso creature's back, but only one can reach Malain and attack him with any force. The creature itself reacts by lashing its tongue out toward the assassin and grabs hold of him before an attack by the roc's talons tearing its mucus covered appendage forces it to release him.

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Two hits my friend, but you partner interrupted the grapple and dealt some damage.

damage from vampire spawn: (1d6+4)[9] and one negative level.
torso beast: (1d8+10)[11] roll a fort save verse strength damage.

[Dr.Orpheus]

"Well seein' what direction you came from it would seem that you are from northern part of some more southern continent. We up here in the norther north are havin' trouble with dragons as they are spreadin' a dragonic disease of sorts as a group of undead meanies spread additional evil, Joan here is not with them though. Now if you don't mind we would also like to ask about the ship, the red wizards, and any other passengers cause it's our job to be investigatin' them types o' things."

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Retyped my old post sorry for the misunderstanding.

[nyarlathotep]

Wait I misread the text I thought the windigo was still alive. Retyping my post now.

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He is still alive. I was just letting psiclone have a chance to respond first. He just stopped thrashing. The sword is just a seal, preventing him from moving not actively bleeding him out. Wendigos don't really have running blood. Worst that will happen is starvation.

[NotScaryBats]

"This ship seems to have crossed the Great Storm, to our land long ago settled by humans. I cannot speak for the political situation from your homeland, but here humans don't have the luxury of fighting amongst ourselves. As Les said, the undead under the corrupt Lords of Death and the Dragonborn under the dread Linnorms threaten our very existence.

"If you could aid us in any way, your information would be invaluable to us." Joan is amazed that this ship actually crossed the great storm... If they could somehow reverse-engineer it, then there would be hope for the citizens of Landsend. Still, the wendigo's tale did not bode well for what sort of civilization the citizens would find...

Hopefully, they would learn more from the wendigo before Joan was forced to end it.

[Wavelab]

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When do our PM's continue?

[nyarlathotep]

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When I stop being dumb

Upon hearing Joan and Lester's response the Wendigo stops utilizing its wind speech and lets out a weak chuckle from a throat obviously unused to actual vocalization, before once again opening its jaws and allowing speech to resume.

Wendigo: To think that beyond those horrible storms were lands untouched by Red Wizards taint. Where my brothers' and sisters' children would not be forced to eat from their fellow man. Alas it is too late for me, I cannot eat anything other than other humanoids, and I have very little knowledge of the wizards' machines. My lands have no metal and knowledge of machines is worthless when they rust overnight from the ice storms.

[NotScaryBats]

"Very well, then. I wish there were another way for this to end, but you may rest now, warrior." Joan feels an odd kinship for this man, who became undead to serve his people, and faces his destruction with honor and conviction. No honeyed words to convince them to free it, no hateful curses. In another life, the two may have had much to talk about, but Joan had people counting on her for survival, and releasing a flesh-eater was just not something that she could do. She grasps her sword and says a prayer.

If she is not stopped, Joan executes the wendigo, with some remorse.

[Wavelab]

Siggeir rushes in just as Joan is about to execute the wendigo. "No!" He shouts. "Can I do it?"

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Back with an entrance.

[NotScaryBats]

Joan raises her sword and stops it when Siggeir bursts into the room. "What? You... want to do it? Why." She glares at the man, not understanding his request. He wasn't here to stop the wendigo's death, but ... Took some perverse pleasure in taking life? Was this the doppleganger? She waited for his response suspiciously.

[Wavelab]

"Oh no I don't really want to." Siggeir said. "I merely find outrageous statements a good way to get attention. I actually just wanted to tell you that this is the real Edgar, and that he will be accompanying us from now on."

Before Joan could even think about Edgar he quickly said "If I may ask, why do you want to kill him?"

[NotScaryBats]

"I find that difficult to believe. This wendigo has shared information about the land through the great storm. How could anyone from Landsend know about such things? Or, am I misunderstanding who Edgar is?

"As for why he deserves to die, a wendigo must sustain itself on the flesh of intelligent humanoids -- it cannot safely live amongst us. Undead that prey upon the living are a scourge that I cannot permit to exist. He has prepared himself for this eventuality, and I do not take the extinguishing of a live lightly."

[Wavelab]

"I meant, this is Edgar." he said as he pulled someone in from outside. He couldn't help but feel a little threatened as she revered to undead that feed off the living, considering he himself did.

"I presume you hate vampires just as much then?"

[nyarlathotep]

The entrance of Edgar and the vampire causes the wendigo to stir once more.

Wendigo: Edgar? Is that the name those wizards gave you when they molded you out of wax, or is that the name of the poor sap whose skin you're wearing?

Edgar: What do you mean? I'm a man, that body was.

Wendigo: That body was the man whose mind and appearance you stole after sealing me in this ship for your masters. For all their skill they gave you fake skin, fake memories, fake blood, and even a fake soul, but could never make you smell like anything other than a candle.

Edgar: No no no. I can remember my wive, my friends, my.

Wendigo: Just like you remembered the life of that knight you copied during my last battle, and the troll who operated the boilers before that, and the girl you used to infiltrate our canal controls before that.

At this point Edgar collapses sobbing and his begins to visibly deteriorate into a mess of melted wax.

[Wavelab]

"You suck." He said to the wendigo. "I emplore you to kill it now Joan."

He goes to the pile of wax and starts to comfort him "It's alright. You're unique in your own way, don't let him bother you."

[NotScaryBats]

Yet again, Joan is surprised by how quickly events are unfolding around her. Siggeir must have known the Doppleganger wasn't the real Edgar -- what was his game? And the wendigo proved itself useful once again. She wished there was a way to recruit it to the path of goodness, but flesh was like a drug to these creatures, and there would always be a hunger in its mind.

She paused for a moment and looked at Les.

"What do you think about all of this, Druid? At this point I fear we must bring the authorities in to judge these two."

[Wavelab]

Siggeir had to act quickly. He got up and sighed.

"Yes I know that he wasn't the real Edgar. I do not need to be a mind reader to know that. You see, he is a friend I met long ago while I still ruled of my kingdom. He doesn't have a proper sense of what is right and what is wrong. I attempted to show him that path by letting him adventure with us, but it seems to have been rendered moot. I ask you to reconsider the actions you want to take. For if you want to imprison me for trying to teach someone morals, then you are truly evil." Siggeir said, with a small tear dripping down his face.

[NotScaryBats]

"You met someone who has crossed the Great Storm before today? Were you aware of its origins at the time? How did it go from your... kingdom... across the Storm, to this boat, and then back across the Storm to where we are, now?

"Regardless, it is responsible for attacking the real Edgar, and rendering him comatose. I pray that its... Current situation will lift whatever spell it cast upon him. In the future, perhaps you should not so lightly free a criminal from its bonds."