KHAZUUL

As the weather intensify, Freki gives up on his make shift tent and goes to sleep in the kennels like he had considered earlier ...

Thorn has had it with the rain and he's glad he didn't decide to go with the Ruin Sage in this weather. Watching Freki go off to the kennels he shakes his head and goes below with the rest of the group and the Black Skulls. He'd rather that than smelly dogs.

"Yes, Cutwell. I guess he was waiting to see what the new day would bring. Not the best planner, is he?"

Freki has it worse than Sow, his tarp being makeshift. The net eventually rips loose from its ties and sails into the night. Taking shelter with the dogs, he finds he is at least able to doze back to sleep.Cutwell and Thorn anchor their shared tent down just fine, but Cutwell realizes when he rises that his pack has been knocked open by debris.

Thorn lasts the night just fine, but his head is full of dreams from when he visited Kir Sabal in his youth.

In the morning, Freki doesn't have much time to lament his net as he quickly gathers his pack. Hearing Tunny's call, "Yes! I'm coming, I'll get the dogs!" he yells back through the roar of the weather. The beast master is able to coax the cowering dogs to run with him across the camp into the underground shelter as the chaotic conditions become dangerous.

Once everyone's settled underground, he speaks up to the Black Skulls, "Anyone have any good stories? What's the best treasure haul you guys have seen from the jungle? Something we can aspire to once we get out of here."

Just before you descend, you watch as the Ruin Sage draws a blade and cuts the two prisoners free. He drags them out of the gate behind his Anzu, their arms still in their restraints.

The underground chamber is fairly large, perhaps 50 feet in length and half that in width. The first Black Skulls in have lit oil lamps, bathing the damp space in an orange gloom. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all made of moldering cut stone, with more recent timbers bracing it. Everything is leaking, but most of the water runs down to the northeast corner, where the water flows out of a large crack in the bottom of the wall and off into an unknown space. This crack is just big enough for a person to crawl through, and the water cascades into the dark beyond.

Further north is a passage guarded by veteran Black Skulls leading to "the stash." You can make out smaller chambers that appear to be used as storage rooms. They contain a smattering of barrels and crates, containing the week's haul of valuable plants and herbs.You would think Tunny was having the time of his life with this hurricane barreling down. He barks orders and gets these scoundrels and brigands to efficiently set up a sort of camp below. Space is tight crowded, with two dozen odd men below (plus the dogs) but not unbearable.

"This was the Black Skull's first base!" he calls out, as if a history lesson might brighten the men's spirits. "Me and Dario cleared this place out years ago. That pit there'll do for fresh water if you need it, and you can piss and shit in the outgoing river there. Except for you, Wilmot! You'll have to shit out in the storm, not even a beastman can bear the smell of your ass!"

The Black Skulls have a good laugh at Wilmot's expense.

The dogs stay close to Freki, and since they're not yelping, Tunny doesn't seem to mind. Saffron and Samir also stay close to your group.

"Get fucked, asshole," is the first response Freki gets, called out from the back of the room. Though they have taken you in, you're still very low on the pyramid.

However, an older man nearby decides to take your bait.

"I was there when Raven came back with them relics. Her and her crew were the best Hunters since Dario," an older Union man says, and then hastily adds "and Tunny."

"Sorry about your net, Freki. That's some rough luck. But you'll get another one with all the riches we are bound to find, eh?" Thorn slaps the man on his back reassuringly.

He's very interested in what the Black Skulls will say in answer to Freki's questions but he turns to Sow and in a low voice he asks her something that had been sticking in his head since the Ruin Sage's visit.

"You looked afraid of the Ruin Sage, Sow. There is no need. As long as you don't cross the sages, they won't cross you."

It was odd advice because Thorn had tossed and turned all night, reliving his trek with his mother so many years ago. He kept seeing the same trek over and over again in his dreams but each time the journey was slightly different. Nothing bad happened, but it troubled him just the same.

Cutwell, from his time on the march, knew that it was a game of factions within factions with groups like this. Little gangs vying for supremacy while working towards the one goal. They’d sniff out the weakest band for sport and make their march all the harder.

"Oi!" he calls back to the one that jeers Freki. "Say that again and I’ll sow yours shut, won’t I?" he barks back, hoping that the small fry barking at the bigger dogs would elicit a laugh and not dreaded, pregnant silence.

Sow knows how to sleep in the rain, how to avoid water that collects and various other tricks, so she's rested in the morning when the weather turns even worse and the decision is made to not make any outings today. As the whole camp packs up to go underground, she's muttering about two things -- the fact that going underground might be a really bad idea if there's any risk of the camp flooding, and that evidently the prisoners are to be left to their fate as everyone else seeks shelter.

She has her knife in her hand and her heart in her throat as she prepares to visit those poor wretches, but then the Ruin Sage reappears and leads them away, saving the girl the trouble of risking a rescue.

Later, below-ground, she is amazed at the dryness and size of the place, as well as the fresh water. She tries not to think about the latrine pool overmuch, and just ignores Thorn when he mentions her being afraid of the sages. What fool wasn't afraid of them?

Then, when Freki gets a sharp response and Cutwell comes to his aid, the filthy young woman holds her breath, hoping the tension passes -- rather than explodes.

After Cutwell takes his shot, the whole cavern falls into a dreaded, pregnant silence.

The man who advised Freki to "get fucked" rises and approaches, stalking forward like a wolf. He is older, passed his prime, but you can see by the bend of his nose that he's weathered his fair share of brawls, and the cast of his scowl makes it clear he has no sense of humor.

"Let's see if your bark matches your bite, tough guy."

The crowd backs away and starts to form a circle. The man shrugs off his jacket and unhooks an iron mace (d8) from his belt and begins to warm up with it, making some swift strikes in the air in a decent display of skill.

Like many of the Black Skulls, Tunny is watching with crossed arms and keen interest. Sounds like there's even murmurs of bets being taken in the crowd! Even the guards in front of the stash move up to get a better look at the fight.

Ah, here we go. A little amusement to while away the hours.

Thorn was as tough as they come having been a convict for so long and living to tell the tale. His hand tightens on the hilt of his sword as he waits to see if Cutwell will fight, and if it will be a fair fight. Cutwell had the advantage of age on the grizzled old man.

"Beware of the slippery footing, Cutwell!" Thorn warns.

Cutwell removed his own jacket, and then starts to unbutton his shirt and slip it off, turning as he does so. The first thing the crowd sees is the strong metal arm on that side of his body as he tosses the clothes to his companions. Then, the man pulls his knife from its place at his side and holds it in his other hand.

Cutwell wasn’t the biggest man, nor the meanest. And yet, he wasn’t unsure of his own size. He had jumped into battle and carved his way through the face of the beastmen without hesitation on the jungle. He knew he could handle himself.

He winks at Thorn, as the advice is cast about!

Sow rises and catches Cutwell's cloak as he casts it off. Eyeing the man's opponent, she leans close for a good-luck clap on his flesh arm, and briefly says, quietly, "That's a heavy weapon he'll need to ready after each swing. Stay clear, then strike. Lure him into that wet on the floor."

"Watch this!" Cutwell says to Sow, trying to feel confident under the circumstances. He couldn’t back down now.

Cutwell pounces across the gap at the older man, aiming to drive his metal fist into the man’s stomach and end the thing quick. He slashes the air with his knife, as he gets in close, to keep the man on the back foot. He didn’t want to murder the man in front of a group of his peers, and so aims to keep the knife wounds as superficial as possible. He may even stitch them up, once the air has been cleared by the fight…

The thug is fast, but Cutwell is faster. He dodges the initial punches from his metal fist, but then Cutwell catches him as he closes with his knife.The blade rakes across his weapon forearm and the man falls to ground, bleeding. His mace clatters to the floor and rolls into the crowd. There's cheers and jeers for him to get up, but the man shouts "Fuck, I yield!"

There is a cool silence as everyone's eyes move to Cutwell. There's a new sense of respect, or fear, from the Black Skulls as they looks at him but also the rest of you, reinforced by the whimpers of his bullish opponent, who cradles his bloody arm.

Thorn's face registers excited surprise. He wasn't sure Cutwell would prevail but as luck would have it, the man's trade had prepared him for this very moment. He was sure they would garner the respect of the other Black Skulls now. Wouldn't they?

"That's well done, Cutwell." In a lower voice to the side Thorn adds, "We are a little safer because of your show of strength and courage."

To the rest, he puts a question. "What shall we do now to amuse ourselves?"