KHAZUUL

Sow just shakes her head at Cutwell when he makes his offer, refusing him. She's good at refusing people with a look, a gesture, and finishes her tea before Freki calls them all over. Gathering her things, including the big bundle of brigandine armor that looks so absurd on her small but deceptively strong frame, she walks over and listens to the deal.

Five gold a day is more than the girl has ever made in her life. Her job as a fieldwarden offered favors and pay in kind. Services, eggs, a barn's roof o'er her head from time to time, putting a new bit on her axe, that sort of thing. Coins in her hands? Golden ones? This is why she's come to Khazuul.On the way down to Raven's, Sow frets quietly about the Black Skull masks, and the notion that Vanguard Bastion is 'neutral ground.'

"I have some lockpicks ... don't ask, a lantern, and oil. I have enough coin for one tent. If someone doesn't get another tent it will be mightily cozy in there. I doubt the little lady will be interested in sharing it with us."

Thorn glances at Sow and chuckles.

"Who will buy the other tent and some bandages just in case?"

On the walk to the store, Thorn examines the wood carving, then puts it back in his pocket.

As new members of the Black Skulls makes their way through Vanguard Bastion's tent-choked plaza, Thorn finds nothing particularly interesting about his wooden carving. Behind all the human noises and smells looms the colossal pit of Khazuul, dwarfing everything.

You enter Raven's Adequate Supply and are berated by a dark-skinned woman with a broom.

"You'd better wipe those boots if you know what's good for you. I just swept these god-damned floorboards for the third time today."

She looks up from her task, frowning. Behind her, the store is neatly organized despite the fact that no two pieces of shelving or furniture match.

As Freki walks through the plaza, there's a noticeable skip in his step now that his head can breath in the heat, although, a fine sheen of sweat can still be seen glistening on his scalp.

In Raven's, he jumps aside of the woman's angry broom and grudgingly stamps off his feet on the map before going further. Then while browsing, he counts his coins disappointingly to discover there's only 9 gold left. In reply to Thorn he says, "I only have 9 gold, but I'm happy to use it to split the other tent with someone. Any takers?"

Sow likes places like Raven's Adequate Supply. There's so much to see, so many little things to ponder and muse over. Things made by people so far from here. Alas, she rarely has coin enough to buy anything interesting, and today is another one of those days. Twenty gold for a tent! The woman has but nine to her name. Bandages are even more expensive. It seems Sow won't be doing a lot of shopping at Raven's until they have made a number of days' wages.

"Do you have anything cheaper?" she asks, her voice hoarse, her hand on the tent she'd like to buy. "Something smaller?"

Even if she and Freki pool their money -- they do not have enough.

"He wants us to wear this thing down in the jungle?" Cutwell asks incredulous, flapping the mask about. "Black attracts the sun, don’t it? It’ll be boiling!"

"If the rest of the gang can suffer through it, Cutwell, we can too. Maybe you should shave your head!"

Thorn laughs at his comment as his eyes peruse the many wares on offer and ponders Freki's offer while rummaging for his coin. His good humor disappears immediately when he comes up short and stares at the gold in his hand.

"Blast the eyes of a witch, I thought I had more than this. I appear to have only twelve gold." Heaving a sigh he appeals to the shopkeeper's good nature if she has any. "I don't suppose we could have the tent for twelve gold and perhaps you could find something affordable for our friend Sow? I did clean off my boots without even being told!"

In a box of miscellaneous items, Freki sees some rusty old spikes that can be tied to the bottom of boots. He tries them on and they fit! "Hey Kiddo, I think I'm going to grab these boot spikes. They're only 5 gold. So I can spot you one to buy that tarp there ... you should be able to fit under that and then you don't need to share with anyone."

Catching another a whiff of her as he gets close, he adds, "Don't know if that's more beneficial for you or us!" he laughs.

"I think I'll be able to build a shelter with what I've got," he says after double checking his pack.

Sow is frowning at the continued jokes about her odor, but she borrows a coin from Freki and bundles up the tarp. It’ll require work, but she’s confident it can provide adequate cover.

As Freki settles up with Raven, he asks a bit warily, "Do you get many returning customers? What piece of equipment do you notice they buy or request? Something to save up for next time," he chuckles and listens intently thinking even though he can't buy anymore today, the answer could provide clues about the most common risks in Khazuul.

"Right, right, right. I’ll take the tent then, won’t I? What’s it go for to a Black Mask? 15 gold?" he asks, coyly. He had bandages and other supplies, but sleeping rough wouldn’t do.

Since negotiating wasn't an option and even his good looks didn't help him, Thorn decides to sleep rough. He was used to it anyway. He would hope for dry weather.

"I'm good. I'll keep my 5 gold for another time, unless anyone wants to paly cards. I can buy that deck you have on offer."

With their supplies gathered as best as can be, Cutwell, Freki, Sow, and Thorn find a relatively quiet corner in the plaza to make camp to await the morning's light to descend into Khazuul.

As you make camp, drunken conversation wafts in from the next tent. You learn the following rumours:

- There is a green tent with a dragon flag in the plaza run by Union deserters that brew extremely strong moonshine. They keep it under wraps as it offends the Gurkish, who consider drinking alcohol to be a crime against God. The password to enter is "Sailors on the Starless Sea."

- The men share stories about increasing raids from something they call "Beastmen." The way they tell it, these creatures attack Hunters' camps and drag them back into the jungle, never to be heard from again. Both the leaders of the Dreadwings and the Black Skulls offer a bounty on Beastman heads, and an enormous sum for the location of the Beastmen's lair.

Day 2, 1st Watch.

With the first light, you stir from your slumber, gathering your belongings. A trek to The Winches awaits, where you join the ranks of the supply bearers and the seasoned Hunters, all bound for the descent into Khazuul. Peering down upon the jungle abyss, one can discern that the pit plunges so profoundly that Khazuul commands its own atmospheric whims, distinct from the barren expanse that encircles it. Massive clouds have amassed, shrouding the precipice, undoubtedly bestowing their rains upon the verdant canopy below.Your moment arrives, and you heft your gear onto a broad platform dangling from chains. It's packed tight - ten other hunters descend alongside you, and a shipment of provisions under vigilant guard is securely crated nearby. With a creak and a moan, the boom swings the platform over the abyss, easing you down at an unhurried pace, the gears protesting with each inch. The chains can only stretch so much, and you find yourself at the initial of nine waystations clinging to the cliff's facade. Unload, load, repeat - a ceaseless cycle as you shift from one winch to the next.

Descending through the clouds, you plunge into the searing embrace of the tropical rain, a relentless downpour that complicates every move, adding an extra layer of discomfort. Lightning streaks across the sky, lancing down into the dense jungle below. Thunder follows, a deafening resonance that rattles The Winches' laden platforms, forcing you to clutch the railing to stave off an unwelcome tumble. The clouds envelop your sight, snatching away the panoramic view of the jungle landscapes you once surveyed from on high.As the journey concludes, the day is half over. The rains, unyielding, descend with a weighty force as the platform finally finds its footing on solid ground. Here, at the foot of the cliff, you gaze upward, the cliffs masked in clouds, the last waystation barely discernible.

The jungle at the base has been drastically pushed back — a swath of devastation marked by stumps, smoldering pyres, and massive boulders stretching across several hundred yards, broken by the occasional lonely tree and ruined stone arch. The heavy rain is pooling into deep, muddy puddles and rivulets cascade across the terran.

In the near distance, a hut stands perched on a modest rise, overseeing a corral housing an assortment of exotic mounts and pack animals. Through the rain, you spot a herdsman, staff in hand, huddled against the weather. Not far off, guards clad in brigandine and armed with spears keep watch.

---

Already soaked from the hours spent making the long journey down, Sow steps off the platform looking like a drowned rat. She is used to bad weather and working in it; this wet doesn't bother her even a little. Rumors of gang wars and beastmen -- that bothers her, so the little adventurer in the almost comically oversized armor makes her way, with the others, towards the Black Skulls Camp with caution.

Freki was absorbed by the sights the entire trip down to the jungle, trying to catch a glimpse of the geography, but the weather made it near impossible. He wondered what all the way stations lead to, but decided that was to be discovered another day. He was wary of the other passengers on the winch lift. They were packed in so tightly, he used his elbows to make sure no one got too close to him or the rest of his companions.

At the bottom, he surveys what he discovers to be "The Cut." It' a bit sad to see the devastation to the jungle and thinks about some of the rumors he's heard ... Feels like the jungle is seeking retribution. He's keen to learn more about the exotic animals being kept at the hut nearby, but he is too concerned by the weather and follows Sow's lead.

Between claps of thunder, he yells over the pouring rain to the other two, "I think we should make straight for the Black Skull base camp. From Dario's map, we'll be lucky to make it there before dark in this weather." Thinking about trying to build a shelter with his supplies, even the condition of the tarp and tent that the others bought, he adds, "We don't want to make camp in this tonight if we don't have to." His words are emphasized by a flash of lightning.

"Hopefully, some good will come from this weather by keeping any beasts ... and beastmen ... from venturing out of their lairs as we make our way!"

"Which of this lot do you reckon are Black Skulls then?" he asks the others, trying to spot anything that would speak to gang affiliation during the slow descent. At the same time, he tries to keep his own supplies well hidden, for fear that others would camp out and kill the group beyond the first tree line for such basic supplies. His arm he covers up as best he can, though the constant rain against metal makes it sing somewhat…

"Might be best if we follow them back to the camp, don’t you think?" he follows up, as he stands on solid earth, sopping wet. "Once we know which ones are which, I mean!"