A Stitch in Souragne: The Siege of Lac Noir

[Ken of Ghastria]

Lucien reloads his crossbow and then takes a defensive position near the badly injured Goren. "Get the raft moving! I shall reward Monsieur Vermin with a slash of my own!" He stretches forth his free hand, and dozens of razor-sharp crystalline shards burst forth toward the thrashing creature.

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Move-equivalent: Reload crossbow.
Standard: Expend 3 pp to blast the zombie with swarm of crystals. Swarm of Crystals damage (3d4=10). No save.
Offensive prescience and force shield are still in effect. Any effect on the zombie's actions from destiny dissonance is still in effect (5th round of 5).

[Ail]

Zumba grabs an oar and rows as steadily as he can away from the zombie.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Zumba is not the only one rowing; with the zombi off the raft, Papa Doc explodes into motion. It is amazing how much strength the wiry old man turns out to have; Zumba does his level best to propel the raft, but he can feel that the sick old grandfather is doing most of the work.

In your wake, the zombi splashes and snatches for the raft -- only for your attacks to drive it back once again.

"Not over!" the creature shrieks, its voice rising to the pitch of a whistling teakettle while its flesh bloats with black ichor. "It is not over! You will die! It is determined!`"

And then, with a dull thud and roar of escaping liquids, it detonates. Black fluid rushes out, blighting the already fetid water. Small fish and other, less recognizable creatures come floating to the surface, only to dissolve in the blackness spreading over the water's surface. A foul stench, worse than the stink of rot, wafts after you, and you find yourselves coughing and retching helplessly. This is the stench of unhallowed death, impure and simple.

"Fee!" Papa Doc shouts, and spits. "Fee! Ah needs me sam' whisss-key fra ta gettin' dis'ere taste outta mah mouths!"

For maybe five minutes, Papa Doc rows steadily away from the site of the battle. When he spots a small island, a lonely cypress tree rising from its centre, he starts to head towards it.

(OOC: Anyone who was sickened because of the zombi's breath attack, you are sickened no longer. Everyone who was injured by the zombi - except Lucien, who already did this - please make a Fortitude save, DC12.)

[Ken of Ghastria]

Lucien spits out the last of the vomit from his mouth. "Damnation..." he says, looking quite exhausted. "I hope we don't have another such guest before we meet Chicken Bone. How is everyone? Well done with that shove, Zumba. Well done, all."

[Guzrath]

Vincent's face contorts in disgust when the putrid smell hits his nostrils. "ahhh" he moans. He licks his tongue hoping he can get rid of the bad taste in his mouth, his eyes widen as well, as if that would help him get rid of the foul taste and smell. After a moment he checks his gear, cuts and the others and smiles "A beautiful adventure indeed" he says and starts whistling a simple, but happy tune while helping with the bandaging. His mind wandering off a bit to what that Zombi had said, if he had heard it right or not.

[steveflam]

Goren's face goes white and he moves to the side of the skiff. Going to one knee he throws up over the side. Once done, he stands on shaky feet, embarassed. He hopes they meet with this Chicken Bone soon. His magic not working troubled him, especially against his specialty: Undead. Shrugging, he moves over to Vincent and helps the man with his bandaging, using his knowledge of healing in the process.

Looking at the others he speaks up. Souragnien "I, I uh sorry no help for with Zombie. I... I usual very great stopping death persons like Zombie or a Skeletal, yes Skeletal. Is every person good health? I can heal if you wanting."

Goren looks down, face red. Souragnien "I is worrisome my magic and clericing not good always here in Souragne. I also am noticed is very heated and humidity for you all, but I is nothing feeling this. Much I adoring eating, I not feel hungering since yesters day. I unsure why, but maybe we find answers to all together, yes?"

[Ail]

"Maybe yes, Goren. Say nothing of it. Let's just row and get moving, I don't want to find any more of these or let any of its remains reach this boat."


Zumba is very concerned, almost angry with fate itself.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

(OOC: T minus three days.)

Papa Doc moors the raft at the little island and hops off.

"Garn," he coughs, and spits into the swamp. "Git yersel' onta land, boahs. Y'all need some fysickin', an' Papa Doc gotta me-di-sin."

The old man starts to hop around the little island, collecting pieces of wood, unnaturally dry because of the drought. Despite his handicap, the old man builds a small fire with remarkable speed, pulls what looks like a poker from his sleeve and sets it in the flames to heat. A little conjuror's move of his raggedy sleeves, and the old man is holding a dented pewter cup.

"Sit, sit," the old man says, and plops himself down close to the crackling flames. Overhead, the cypress' leaves whisper despite the absence of a breeze. Papa Doc presents his drinking flask and pours a dram of clear, sharp-smelling liquid into the cup.

[Ail]

Rock, what does Zumba think of Papa Doc? Is all this physical prowess natural in a Souragnien man of his age, or does he have cause to be suspicious?

I can make a Sense Motive check, if needed.

[steveflam]

Goren disembarks and helps Papa Doc to gather what they need. It is indeed odd that the wood is dry and in fair condition in this swamp but he says nothing. His mind keeps alert and he tries to put together what he has experienced so far into a reason why his connection to Lathander seems a bit shaky at best in Souragne.

[Ken of Ghastria]

Lucien gratefully sits down on the small island and begins checking his wounds. The slashes from the zombie's razor-like fingers burn painfully, but the bleeding has stopped. Zumba and Vincent are injured as well, as was Goren -- badly -- but it seems that the odd priest has wisely chosen to heal himself.

"Goren," he calls out, not needing any of his special talents to sense that the man is preoccupied and beginning to doubt himself. "Your priestly magic, your prayers -- I know that you're concerned about your bond with 'Lathander,' but as far as I can tell, your magic works properly on us, on you, and everything... except these types of undead. Both in front of the temple and just now, on the raft, the monsters seemed to absorb your magic. Just as the land of Souragne now seems to absorb all clerical magic used to create water.

"That cloaked coward, or whoever is responsible, seems to have a particular axe to grind with the Church of Ezra, or any follower of a beneficial god, and has come up with a way to create creatures and devices -- those stones, no matter what that pompous charlatan said last night -- that turns the intent of priestly spells into the opposite. Attempts to create water accelerate the drought. Attempts to attack undead foes strengthen them."

He now addresses Zumba and Vincent as well as Goren. "You three have been in Souragne longer than I have. Do you know whether the Church of Ezra or any of the Voudon practitioners have attempted to destroy water since the drought began?"

[Guzrath]

Vincent steps on the dry land looking around, but does not sit down. He straightens his torn up clothes, trying in vain to look well dressed. Seeing that it's useless to try he grabs his crossbow and prepares a bolt. Walking around the small island looking outward, again whistling the simple tune and clearly in a good mood.
Finishing his walk around the small island he ends up next to Goren and Lucien. He gives Goren a friendly slap on the shoulder. "And you are still alive, so stop looking so grim. Listen to Lucien" he adds "it sounds like he knows what's he's talking about." he says and walks on.
"Zumba, where in Souragne do you come from exactly? From the coast or deeper inland?" he asks. He then crouches down "and I was wondering" pausing slightly "were you born with a master or a free soul?" he asks. Cocking his head in curiosity of the answer.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Papa Doc starts to laugh, or to be honest, he starts to cackle with mirth.

"You a fool'un, boah," he says, pointing at Lucien with his cup. "Destroah watter? When dere be drought? E'en Voodan o' the Serpent o' da Swamp no do so fool a thin'. E'en Voodan o' da Load o' da Dead no do such a thin'. Watter be life - an' it be death, all da same. Death ride wit da rain, we say in Souragne. But no a man 'live no catch e'ry drop a'rain 'e can catch, e'en when dere no be drought. Watter be life. Watter be death. An' in Souragne, watter be power."

Papa Doc snaps his fingers; a clear, cracking sound echoes across the little island.

"Papa Doc an ole man," your guide continues. "Hear many a thin', many a thin'. Voodan knows it, some a' dem says it where Papa Doc hear: On the watter a' da Bayou, power a' majeec is strongest. The watter flow wid life, the watter flow wid death. All majeec mixed up wid life an' death, in Souragne. All majeec be mixed up wid da watter in Souragne. Now bad thin's happen ta da watter, an' bad thin's happen ta da majeecs. All da same, say Papa Doc."

Next, Papa Doc points his cup at Vincent. "You a fool, too. E'ry man born wid a free soul, master or no. Lookit Papa Doc: born ta ma mammie, get me slave bran' burned inta the butt-cheek befoah Ah stop howlin' fra bein' born! Dat make me no ha' a free soul? Nossir! Free as free can be, dat's Papa Doc! Worked for many year, bad work, hard work, but now? Free in body as Ah is in soul. Some men, dem is slave in soul as dey is in body, but dey's foolin' demselves own selves. Fools."

The old man pulls the poker from the fire, and briefly touches it to the contents of his cup. "Now. Which a' you boys firs' ta get damn-fire physickin', 'cause it ain't gettin' any hotter. Roll up dem sleeve an' show Papa Doc you cuts an' bruises, or else chug on down."

[Ail]

Zumba looks up at Vincent's question. He shrugs and says simply

"Inland, in a plantation. Not far from the swamp, no."
He ignores the rest of the question and lets Papa Doc answer.

Then he responds to Lucien and Papa Doc at the same time, while offering his arm to the old man.

"Here's my wounds. Let's get it done".

Then he says "Lucien's idea has a logic. If magic is reversed, destroy water would create it. But I think it is not reversed. It is simply sucked into the stones, made vanish! And what Papa Doc says... it is true. No man in Souragne willing walks in the rain at night. Death rides in it. He leaves his home, and he not returns. The Lord of the Dead takes him. I don't know of magic as Papa Doc, but if he says it can hurt, it can hurt."

[Guzrath]

Next, Papa Doc points his cup at Vincent. "You a fool, too. E'ry man born wid a free soul, master or no. Lookit Papa Doc: born ta ma mammie, get me slave bran' burned inta the butt-cheek befoah Ah stop howlin' fra bein' born! Dat make me no ha' a free soul? Nossir! Free as free can be, dat's Papa Doc! Worked for many year, bad work, hard work, but now? Free in body as Ah is in soul. Some men, dem is slave in soul as dey is in body, but dey's foolin' demselves own selves. Fools."

Vincent smiles, amused by the old man's reply. That was the answer he expected to hear, but not from Pappa Doc.

"How old were you when you escaped then? And where have you been during that moment and now?" he asks and quietly awaits Zumba's answer.