| The Tide Turned |
| Summary: | The group go deeper into the caves. |
| Date: | IC Date |
| Related: | Eight heads in an oilskin bag part 1 & Eight heads in an oilskin bag part 2 |
| NPCs: | {$npc} |
| Players: |
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| A dank cave further on from piles of bloated dead corpses. |
| Dark, evil, smelly. Damp. Cave like. |
| 1867-08-28 |
The cavern at the rear of the hidden cove is deep within the stone of the cliff-face; algae makes the footing slippery and uneven and around you in the dripping dark is the smell of the sea that must flood it when the sun rises. Against the face of the little lantern carried by Myrana near the back between Sebryna and Jarret batter fat moths that squeak and hiss in the dark, colliding with your faces and brushing past you like phantoms. They swarm around the torch in Havelock's hand and land on his outstretched arm, fanning their large wings slowly as they worship that hot, alien light.
The light of the torch wavers and reaches out uncertainly all around the party of adventurers as they search out the cavern beyond the stone step grotto where the bodies of cultists still float in the tidal pool, reaching no walls yet but occasionally splashing against dripping stalacites. The brackish seawater hisses when it drips into the torch like droplets hitting a sizzling hot pan.
The further and further in they venture, they still see nothing, and while the ground does slope downwards, there appears to be no end to the cavern itself.
Near the back, Myrana jumps and has to swallow a nervous gasp as a fat moth bounces off her face, shuddering violently.
"Can you see anything, Sir Havelock?"
—
Havelock eyes the flames as they vanish in a swirl of embers, plunging the van into utter darkness. If ever there was a time to mutter it is indeed now and for a few brief breaths, Havelock utters a partly muffled curse beneath his breath, "Not much. If anything." The perhaps reassuring clink and grate of Havelock's armour remains at the fore, his sidhe steel sword still drawn and held warily against the darkness while the unlit torch is held in much the same manner as a shield. If shields were booze soaked twings, "Anyone?"
—
The light had been bouncing off the liver silver warhammer, causing a few of the moths to be drawn to it. Viola eyed them just a moment, some half wonder if they'd be worth much…for medical purposes. But then the torsh is going out. "Well that was lovely. Seems like wew just got a whole lot of darkness. Everywhere. Darkness and Algae. Oh and moths, I saw some moths." A pause before muttering to Havelock,"there were moths, right, not bats?"
—
There is something amiss here.
It's not just how the darkness seems to swallow everything up like a velvet ocean. It's not even how the torches have been snuffed out as if by the breath of some great and terrible beast. It's not even how the pinprick sensation of a predator's glare seems to creep up the spine and bathe the brain in primordial, reptilian terror. No, there's something else here. Something strange. Something strong. Something…
…Shiny?
Yes. There. Standing in the murk, a giant ensconced in steel. A great helm whose twinned horns seem to stretch into the cavern's ceiling. Its face is in fact a face, one which has been intricately carved into the metal, though every ounce of its artistry is dedicated to the singular purpose of inspiring fear.
A giant waits. In its hands is a simply massive sword.
But what is it waiting FOR?
—
Keeping quie, Jarret focuses on what's nearby, blinking a little as the torch goes out. "Was that something? And it's typical that the lights go out now…"
—
Sebryna blinks a bit as her hand goes to rest on the hilt of her sword as she watches in weary silence.
—
It was a cavern with dead cultist floating at the entrance, of course something was amiss!!!!! Viola sighs a little,"And think I saw sommething maybe not a moth with a bit of shine ta it before your torch got snuffed out." Blown out more likely. Some quiet words given on towards the One. Mostly if it was her timme she prayed the One would make it a swift end.
—
"Moths. Possibly. I'd prefer bats." Havelock's voice replies to Viola's own query, his eyes narrowing as they try to discern anything within the gloom. The giant thing in the murk is perhaps mistaken for a trick of the light, but then there's no light and so Havelock focuses. His plate armour sounding all the louder as his spurs clink and the plates grind and grate, while buckles shift and everything just sounds far too loud in the dark, "Ware." The Reliant starts, the dead torch cast to the ground and his shield plucked from his back as he keeps his blade ready, "By the One…" Yet even as fear pricks at the nape of his neck, the Reliant seeks to take a slow step forwards towards the thing.
—
Myrana draws Ardaigh out with a whispering sound of lightsilver on lambskin and passes the lamp forward, though her fingers don't QUITE want to release the wholesome feeling brass handle. "H-here," she mutters. "Lets go forward and—" she stops, heel clicking on the stone rather decidedly.
"What was that?"
—
Just then, a sussurative sound rumbles against the skin and another of those great breaths billows out from SOMEWHERE within the dark further in. And very, very clearly, there comes the sound of laughter. Half-strangled, wild laughter bubbling out of a very human throat. It echoes and bounces around, and comes from every direction thanks to the walls of the cavern.
—
"I think I prefer somewhere I can see what's coming at me," Jarret mutters a bit darkly, as his grip tightens on his poleaxe. Pausing a bit at the sound of laughter, he shakes his head a little bit. "Just our luck, hmmm?"
—
Viola sighs and rolls her eyes. Wasn't that just typical? There was always someone mad around, right? She reached along to where Havelock was, a mild tap to his shoulder. Least what she hopes is still where his shoulder is. "I dare say, I think the well adjusted sound came from over yonder there." Giving a tap and point and doing her best to indicate the direction meant. "Shall we go meet our host and make friends?"
—
"L-lets go." Myrana stomps on ahead, shaking from head to toe and utterly forgetting the value of a march order in her ridiculous response to terror. Which is to go 'raaaaaaaaaaaaagh' and run into walls that she can't see. She narrowly, as it happens, avoids getting a black eye by whanging into a crop of stone.
—
Havelock just blinks into the gloom, "Over yonder you say." A few tentative steps are taken, the shadow in the murk eyed for all that it might well be. Oh wait, those be shadows. Shadows upon shadows! Possibly moths. Bats. Moth-bats. The Reliant exhales slowly and stalks ahead blindly! Spurs a juddering! "This way?" He asks, almost as an afterthought, "Oh wait, I dropped the damn torch… any chance of relighting that lantern?"
—
Sebryna chuckles softly as she firms up her grip on her sword with a smirk. "Well, time to get our hands dirty again it looks like, sorry bro," she comments with a smirk.
—
Laughter. Terrible, half-mad, gurgling with the spittle of soul lost to lunacy. Something to put out of its misery, or perhaps nothing more than a lure to draw the unsuspecting into the maw of a far more monstrous thing? The steel giant shifts laboriously, the plates of its armor grinding together like the bones of some immensely old beast of burden. It drops low, lowering its horns in a distinctly bull-like gesture, before…
Immediately taking off like a shot.
A very heavy, very leadfooted shot. A metallic clattering blends with the sound of crumbling stone somewhere in the distance. Did it… charge right through a stalacmite or something?
—
"Yes, that way." Viola keeping that step or two right behind Havelock. Going right into the maw of madness with him. Viola coming to a stop when that grinding sound comes. And wait…where did it charge on off to? "Maybe they've got a game of tag and we're interupting it?" Offering that up half-heartedly as Myrana stumbles on past to take the lead from Havelock. Well that is one way to go!
—
There's a muted cuss from up ahead as Myrana nearly intersects paths with the crashing landslide of metal, but she's soon moving again. Fortunately, she's short, so its easy to keep up with her.
—
Totally plunged into darkness a moment before but revealed now by the light of the little lantern in a ghastly play of shadow and light, a hollow in the cavern floor bottoms down in a short series of long, circular stone steps surrounding a lowered place where a large plate of stone is raised on four squat legs. An altar, and on it, a man utterly nude and white as a fish. And above him stands one of the cultists, wearing bloody, sodden robes.
In his upraised hand is a long, wavy dagger, and as the lot of you charge toward him he opens his jaws utterly wide and lets his long tongue loll out between his scraggled teeth. And he plunges the dagger into the chest of the nude one tied to the stone, whose wild laughter continues with a sharp, screaming hitch to bounce off of the walls of the cavern and fill the moist air like a thundershock.
"AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! COME OUT, LITTLE GOD! COME OUT COME OUT COME OUT COME OUT OUT OUT OUT"
—
A rumble shakes the ground underfoot, and behind the altar and the two men engaged with it, something moves.
—
A stench like rotting fish and the bile of some vast creature floods up in a palpable wave, and from behind the altar the darkened floor seems to uncoil and rise up in several waving pillars, indistinct and moving forward to reach for the man on the altar. One of those mottled grey limbs falls over his belly, and doing so becomes more visible to the approaching light; it resembles nothing so much as the body of a enormous, segmented slug.
—
Why is it that Viola is suddenly reminded of those crude drawings and symbols they found up above this lovely holiday spot? The ones she made copies of…for later further study. She blinks at the sight before them, nudeness and oh my…that is a long tongue. Her hand tightening on her own shield as the other moves her warhammer into bent of a defensive turn. "By the One…." It really transended words. Especially when the vile fishy smelling thing…appears.
—
Raising his shield emblazoned with the white cross of the Reliants, Havelock charges one of the things, "For the One! And all that is holy!" Gripped within his hand, the sidhe steel blade is raised for a vicious slash against whatever abomination it is he faces. The horror, the utter disgust driving him as he grits his teeth and throws himself at the foul foe. Even through his gritted teeth the steady and trembling words of a pater noster guide the holy knight.
—
"What the… Slugs?" Jarret grimaces momentarily, before he raises the poleaxe, charging forward as well. "I hate slugs…"
—
Sebryna laughs softly and grins over at Jarret. "What's wrong Sokar, afraid of slugs?" she asks wryly as she rushes after the cultists.
—
As the dagger falls, a stampede of steel smashes into the chamber. Too late to prevent the summoning of that foul, marine monster, but not too late to render them unto their maker. The armor clatters out of the dark, gleaming as jet black as the murk that it had exploded out from. A terrible, gutteral cry erupts from the giant's throat, rebouning around within its own sealed helm, only to emerge as something nearly as monstrous as the creature it moves to slay.
The giant leaps, a cloak billowing from its shoulders. Its blade strikes ahead, air rushing in to fill the void of its passing with a whistling howl. The weapon is enormous, and yet jet black- so dark that it appears to drink in all light. And yet there is light about it. Silver tracery weaves up the weapon's entire length, knitting over a fuller of polished and shaped rubies. Its heart seems to glow as if the whole sword had caught fire.
Myrana would know it in an instant.
And if the blade didn't give the giant's identity away, then the crest emblazoned over its fluttering cloak certainly would.
—
"Now, Sir Sokar….a little bit of salt and maybe a touch of butter and slugs can be quite tasty." Viola notes this off handedly. Probably form experience with all the backwater places she'd had to go to. Blinking as the giant…other thing…goes rushing on oby to attack what have now been declared to be slugs. Giant slugs. And bat moths. What a day! Not that is seems to get much better with the cultist comes after and tries to take a small chunk out of her arm, while her attention is focused on slug thing and sinking her warmhammer into it…squishingly.
—
Havelock's own attack squelches through, making his sword glisten as he draws it away only for Viola's own good and hearty thwack to pretty much squelch the thing all too painfully. Between slicing and splatting, it seems that the creature is indeed on its last… hah… legs. Not that Havelock dares turn his attention from the foul creature, goo and slime and foul stenches everywhere! It's like Tavi and Gauvain raided a whorehouse!
—
Among the many limbs that come out at you and seek to wrap themselves dripping and oozing with mucous around you to break arms and crush lungs, the only one that seems to avoid it wraps itself heavily over the belly of the sacrificed man. It pulses, some hideous musculature moving beneath the greyish, translucent skin… and then HEAVES, ripping the middle right out of the nude man and dragging his digestive tract backwards into itself, trailing viscera and shedding blood everywhere. The man dies instantly.
—
There's a shriek from somewhere in there, a wheedling, high pitched whistle that bursts forth and gobbles up the guts.
—
"Afraid people go the other way," Jarret replies to Sebryna, just as he lowers his weapon to use the spike at the end of it, going far into the slug on the first try. Pulling the weapon free, he moves with a slash, offering a brief reply to Viola as well. "Maybe…" He shrugs, glancing around again as he attacks.
—
"Oh well that just FIGURES!" Myrana steps up onto her forward foot and brings all her weight down into the chop of her cutlass, putting her hips into it and neatly severing the cultist's arm from his body. An arterial spray almost seems to shoot him backwards with a scream as he topples away from her and hits the ground, spraying her in the process and writhing there. He's dead in an instant. "I would find you in a creepy cave!" But she's also hugely relieved that she was not there first as those huge, disgusting limbs snake out at everyone, and she only just ducks beneath one and must roll forward in a flash of skirts and blade to do so.
—
Sebryna laughs softly as she tightens her grip on the sword now fairly soaked in the blood of cultists and grins over at Myrana. "Well of /course/ my lady, where else would you expect to find the creepy and demented but in a cave!?" she asks with a happily laugh as she launches after her enemy once more.
—
War never changes. Neither do cults. The most Ramius has to be thankful for is that he's finally reaping some kind of terrible vengeance upon the bizarrely fishy breed of cultist that he's become so unfortunately familiar with.
"Lady Myrana!" The giant thunders in a voice that sounds more like a landslide than an actual man. This may be because of his echo chamber of a helm. "Why, what are you doing in such a dismal place? I came looking for vampires, not beautiful ladies!" Argetlahm blazes with its distinctive, inner light as it hews deep into one of the strange, slug-like creatures. It drinks deep the gore, parting the creature like an overripe banana, before sweeping up to cleave through any tentacle that gets too close. "Stay behind me, milady. As ever, I shall be your shield!"
The giant pivots, transforming its terminating swing into yet another strike. Centrifugal momentum carries him forward and around, bringing the great black blade down into the entrail-gobbling beast at the center of the room. "I have found no vampires yet, though. Only this awful, imitation White Hall escargot!"
—
It takes a bit of effort for Viola to pull her warhammer out of the musca and slim of the beast. Ew! It is going to take some serious elbowgrease to get all that of her shiny warhammer. Smacking another tentacle..limb..thing with her shield, which seems more a love tap after her opening whack. Just trying to ignore the scream that the poor man that was on the alter…who became an alter snack made…that was him , right?
—
Myrana doesn't try to argue, but instead leaps up onto the altar so that the light of her little lantern fills up the immediate area and her friends can see what they're doing, stuttering something in the back of her throat and warding off stray limbs with Ardaigh. Out of breath! Right!
—
Squirmy evil down, Havelock plunges his blade through the mess of gloop and twitching stuff before withdrawing an instant later to avoid the foul thrust and twitch of its attack and death throes. A glance and a nod to Viola is given as she taps the wee beasty firmly with her hammer before moving to join the assault on the main bulk of the hideous thing. Moving to join Viola, Havelock readies his blade and moves to slash at the foul thing, "That beach you mentioned." Hack, hack, hack!
—
The Lusca, a monster from the sea that somehow became trapped here in this tidal cavern, redoubles its attacks, seething and struggling to catch any one of the men and women around it. Its blood flows bright, almost luminescent, and its beaked jaw catches at blades and hammers as it hisses and lurches. If it can catch you, it will crush you! But it is blind, and fat from feeding on sacrifices made by the cultists for who knows how long!
—
Viola notes,"Yes, I dare say it is slug free. And I think it is high time we've had that break proper like. Don't you think?" Trust the church folk to try and arrange a date over hacking up on dark slug..things. Managing to get another fine whack in on the beastie, right under that beak like snappy mouth! As her shield gives it another bit of a 'love tap' to fend off some of the slime and blood. Not that it helps as she fairly coated in the rather…glow-y-ish stuff.
—
Argetlahm seems to scream as it severs another swarm of squirming tentacles. The blade almost appears eager, as if it were somehow enjoying the task of pureeing awful netherworld slugs. Ramius, for his part, seems to be loving this shit. One could amost imagine the bold grin beneath the mask. Or rather, there WOULD be one there, if the steelshod man weren't… Singing.
"O' mountain tall and cavern deep, river broad and towering keep, land of mine in frigid north, to you I sing!" Ramius pivots, driving the enormous black blade through the slug's thick nest of tendrils. "But of all of you that I love, there is one thing most above- aaaand- thaaaat- iiiis—!"
He swings Argetlahm up, high, high overhead. One step forward, his weight draws it back down in a massive overhead chop, right into the motherslug's nonexistent spine. "The distant roaring sea! The far-off raging waves! For Gendiel is safe from sea's foul reach, and spares no land for surf or beach! Yo-ho!"
Well.
He certainly hasn't changed even a little bit.
—
Havelock's blade carves into the lusca's head, though with an easy twitch of his arm, the all too sharp blade is drawn free as Jarret pretty much lobotomises the poor creature in an instant. Added to that the swift and deadly attacks from the others and there's little threat remaining as the Reliant draws back, slightly luminescent with splatter, "Well this solves the torch problem… and yes." For the first time since spelunking this deep, the Reliant grins somewhat wolfishly before rpelying to Viola, "I think so. Yes."
—
"Hey sluggy, sluggy…" Jarret calls out to the creature, as he takes a few moments to aim as he thrusts his poleaxe forward spike first again. Going for one of the eyes, and driving the weapon far into it. "This'll be a mess to clean…" he mutters, shaking his head again. Pulling the weapon free once more, he shakes his head a little as he hears Ramius. "Oddball…" he calls to the man, a bit lightly. Turning to look around if there's any other troublesome creatures or people now.
—
Viola's head tilts as she listens, or tries to, beyond that god awful singing. Looking to Havelock,"I do think we best make hast about setting on to get packing for that. As I do think that roar of the ocean is getting a tade louder. And we've been in here long enough that tide is likely coming back on at us." Giving the place that is now full of chopped up monster bits and pieces,"Don't think we have proper time to really give further look about either." There might have been more drawings!
—
The creature screeches, and beneath the wrath of all involved it shudders and falls apart, smashed and hacked and pierced and driven through! Its blood slicks everything and splatters even the lamp's panes so that half the fight is cast into shadow and your forms are thrown against the huge stalactites like ghastly puppets.
Myrana standing on the altar can't help herself, and in the refrain sings in her quite, sandy little contralto:
'Yo-ho, yo-ho, sea's not so bad you know
Its sailors and thieves as far as we see
Heave ho, lad, heave ho-'
But this is mostly to herself, and it is very very likely lost in the awful sounds of battle.
But if one were to look over their shoulder as the thing is falling, they might see a grin tugging at her lips even so as she holds the lamp up, one foot perched on the chest of the halfsies man sharing the stone platform with her for balance.
But the thing is dead finally, though its dying convulsions are dangerous in and of themselves and the whole place is covered in glowing blood and thick, slippery mucous.
—
More drawings to take the beach! Curses! Havelock casts his eyes about the cave for one last cursory glance as he heeds the gentle roar of the water getting louder and louder, "You're quite right Mother Viola, we should make haste for the tide is indeed coming in and it shall not spare us." Kneeling to daub his shield in the luminescent ichor, the Reliant soon rises and moves back to the way they came to illuminate (somewhat) the darker recesses with his blood soaked shield and garb.
—
Hoho! Myrana might think her little sea-ditty went unnoticed in the din of combat, but Ramius is Arrani! Battle hymns are their bread and butter! They make the long marches suck less, and rain-soaked breeches chafe a little more softly! Or maybe that's all in their heads. Living that far north can't be good for the mental humors, after all.
Ramius laughs mirthfully as he extracts his blade from the foul and dissolving mess that is the awful sea-slug creature. "Well! That was certainly fun, wasn't it?" The warrior grins, but takes a moment to twist and drive the strange black blade cleanly through the profane altar. Can't let the foul gods that dwell in this place have a decent sacrificial table, after all. "Lady Myrana, what brings you to this murky and miserable place? Were you perhaps hunting vampires as well?"
—
Myrana hops down, just in time to hear something about the tide and see Havelock and Viola start making their way out. "No, we heard about some cultists and…" At first she's still caught up in silly, fluffy pink thoughts (which, considering she's covered in glowing ichor and blood, is impressive, but not particularly out of the ordinary for the little D'Armaz), but then, mid-sentance, she twigs to it. Oh, oh -crap-. She reaches out and pats Ramius' elbow-cop urgently, and turns around to catch Sebryna and Jarret's attention too. "We need to leave! Right now!"
—
Viola dips her shield into the muck, to ensure it is fully covered in that glowy-ish blood. Ug. It's going to be such a pain to clean off later! "No, it shall not. I fear the sea just has no mind for others." Giving a look over towards Myrana and the Iron Golem like dude,"Time for talk later, or least work on catching up and arranging a drink as we make our way out. Tide is coming in. You to Sir Sokar, make sure to bring your lady friend there as well." Before Viola is trudging through the algae slick floor after Havelock, whether or not the others are following. They have been warned!
—
Sebryna blinks a bit as the bit about the tide coming in and nods quickly, running over to grab jarret and if necessary, drag him out of the cave kicking and screaming as she makes a run for it to escape the incoming tide.
—
Myrana shakes the glowing shit off of Ardaigh with a hard sharp swipe to her left and it flies off like water rolling smoothly and gorgeously from an otter's fur in rounded beads.
—
"They might have a point," Jarret remarks, before he grins, "While Sir Sebryna here might need a bath, I think there are better places and times than this…" A gesture towards the way they came in. "Time to go, folks. Tide's coming…"
—
Occasionally splattering the bio-luminescent goo on the floor ahead of himself and against the walls, Havelock marks his path as he trudges through the tunnels at a decent if steady pace. His faintly glowing form almost saintly! Like the time he raised a northern lass from death and fixed the shattered arm of a northern heir! Only he didn't glow then, or smell of fish. Or knew that vampires and cultists and lord knows what else existed. Happier times. Happier, happier times. Onwards!
—
Sebryna sighs softly and moves to smack jarret with the brunt of her blade before thinking better of it before merely linking hands with him. "You are lucky that I like you, ya know that?" she asks with a sigh and shake of her head before moving to drag him out.
—
But then Havelock was also not an attainted heretic of a disavowed Order or an accused murderer. Happier times!
—
Myrana stoops to pick up the culitst's dropped wavy dagger once Ardaigh is sheathed, and thrusting this through her belt in a rather cavalier fashion, immediately sets to making sure that she and Ramius are not the next victims of the cave and the already rising tidal water, which is up to one's ankles and steadily washin in.
—
"How nice," Jarret remarks as he sees Sebryna's reaction, following her out, with a grin.
—
Sebryna glares at Jarret once more for his words and again sizes up the possibility of hurting him before shaking her head and laughing with a sigh. "Oh i'm sure you'd just /love/ that, wouldn't you Sir Sokar?"
—
The tides are rising!? This is why Ramius hates the sea! It turns upon you the moment you show your back! It is the single most conniving feature of geography that he has ever met! Though that said, Ramius has never actually been in a desert or a jungle before, so perhaps his experience is somewhat limited. "Hrm, I think we shall need to speak of the subject of vampires another time, milady. I do not wish to sink to the bottom of the sea today!"
"Har!" He grunts, slinging Argetlahm back into its sheath and Myrana up and over one shoulder like a SACK OF POTATOS. "Keep our pathway lit, milady! I will handle the running!" Which is probably for the best, considering Ramius is HUGE compared to 99% of all Myranas.
—
Myrana says something very much along the lines of 'oof! motherFUCKER' but she's a lady and it's inaudible as she's hefted like an angry cat and anyway there is zero point in trying to stop Ramius from doing shit like this. He is pretty well outside of her weightclass, and so she just tries to put up with it, thrusting the lamp out and trying to look like it was her idea all along.
—
"You know, I have legs," she says instead. Cause she's a lady. She doesn't even know that word. Definitely. As he tilts into a run though she hangs on for dear life and shouts, jounced between every other word. "LADY D'LARIO DO YOU SEE THE THINGS I PUT UP WITH?!"
—