KHAZUUL

The band of Beastman continues to approach the log, coming so close to the company's elevated camp that you can hear the clinking of the manacled chains and grunts of the animals. The horn tip of the mournful horn is visible above the log, like the head of a monster. Its bronze eyes scan over you as it pass you by, blaring its song. The light gets quite bright as the swarm of fireflies follows the horn's head, and any minute you expect to be discovered.However, the beastmen do not pause to examine the log. The rain, once your cursed enemy, shrouds the scent of your campfire, and your elevated position is too high to spot from the ground. The six of them pass on without so much as a hint of knowing your presence.

After twenty minutes, the noise of the horn is swallowed into the background noise of the jungle, and a few minutes after that, the fireflies begin to blink out, leaving you in darkness.

There is not much else to do than set watches and get to resting, and fortunately the rest of the night passes without trouble.

Day 7, First Watch
Hex: 3 (almost at 2)
Wilderness Action: TBD
Weather: ...

As the morning comes, the wind gets increasingly hectic, ripping through the forest canopy at alarming rates. Lighting crashes violently overhead, filling the great crater with thunder. The rain comes down in sheets, drenching everything. Branches and other debris begin raining down on you.

It is imperative that you find cover soon, or the storm will take its toll on you!

Cutwell lets the air out of his chest for the first time in what felt like hours. He had clutched up his knife, and was ready to run something through, before getting the same on return himself.

---

When he awakens, he pulls up the rainproof gear around himself.

"Is it better to stay up here, rather than going down into it?" he asks, wondering if it was worth bearing the whipping wind, if it meant dealing with less wet.

"Best we have a look around for a hollow, ain’t it?" Cutwell asks, slapping the enormous tree. He had thought for them to string up their tents around the roots, so as to afford them a little more shelter, but if they could get inside somehow…

"I'm with you Cutwell. We should stay put. Wait it out. Admittedly we could starve waiting, but I don't see a better alternative."

By now Flint felt and looked like a fish as far as he was concerned. He no longer felt the damp. It seemed a part of him now and he was numb to it.

Looking down at the rising water levels in the bog, Freki considers their somewhat high perch relatively safe, but then a flash of lighting followed by the crashing bang of thunder reminds him how exposed they are on the fallen tree.

"We need to find some proper shelter," the northerner yells to his companions through the roar of the rising winds. "Something like those ruins we fought at yesterday."

"I think I saw something in the distance to the west before the sun set last night. Let's make for that!"

Getting reluctant but acquiescent nods from the others, he packs his things as quickly as he can and then leads the way off the giant trunk and through the water and muck in what he thinks is the direction despite the blinding curtains of rain.

"Piss." Cutwell says, and wonders if he ought to give Flint his cloak, if even just for the short journey to the west.

"Lets get you dried off then!" Cutwell offers to Flint, thinking to follow Freki into the mire. "Whatever he saw must be better than this, ain’t it?"

"Don't trouble yourself, I'm fine, Flint says to Cutwell."I'll be soaked again in a matter of moments if there's anything left of me to be soaked, that is.

If he's lucky, the biting wind that feels like claws on his moist body will dry him off.

Strong for her size, and at-times determined, Sow nevertheless struggles in the storm. There have been so many days of rain, and now this second big storm…

"We need high ground!" she shouts to Freki from the rear, literally staggering along as he leads the way. "There will be flooding, deep water if this keeps up! Where are we going?!"

The wind whipping around her, the nearly horizontal rain pelting her face, Sow plods forward, water sloshing in her boots. One foot in front of the other… just don’t lose sight of Saffron, ahead of her…

Freki leads the company toward the ruin he remembers seeing before nightfall. Spurred on by the rapidly deteriorating weather, the company makes excellent time. The journey is not without danger, however. A deafening crack pierces the air, announcing the violent descent of a tree limb. Cutwell and Sow, caught unawares, bear the weight of the collision and sustain moderate injuries. Pressing forward, the company eneyually stumbles into the ruin.



The dilapidated but sturdy structure looks like it has weathered Khazuul's fury for centuries. It is an elevated stone building with a single, staired entrance, situated on an impromptu island in a river born of the storm's flash floods. The building isn't large, occupying at most a 30' square footprint.

You realize, as you approach, that there is a flame lit within.

"Oh for the love of the sun, could that be dry shelter ahead and a fire already stoked within?" Flint is aware that whatever dwells inside could be a threat, but how many threats could fit inside such a small structure?

Loud enough to be heard over the weather but not so loud that whatever dwells within can hear he offers, "We should draw our weapons and charge inside! If they are friendly, no harm done and we sheath our weapons and tend to our wounded."

Sow nods as well, drenched to the bone, injured from the heavy branch that fell on her and the barber, and as hopeful as can be that the fire-lighters are friendly.

"Could be they are Skulls," she said, limping a little as she continues after the wild-maned man…

"Fifty fifty, ain’t it?" Cutwell shrugs. They didn’t have the masks to prove either allegiance, but it might be that their reputation would carry them through.

"Someone have a look then!" he says, ready to thrash about him with his metal arm, even as he nurses his other arm ever so slightly.

Wringing out his wet locks, though who knows why as they'll be swiftly saturated again, he calms his annoyance and decides against charging the building.

"Yes. Could be friend or foe. Listen, we have the weather working in our favor, hard as that is to believe. We should be able to sneak up and take a look without being heard. Yes? Anyone see any windows?"

Freki agrees with Flint's reassessment, "Yes, and if we run in weapons raised, then even those who are not foes might react by counter-attacking immediately. I certainly would if a cloaked gang charged into our camp with weapons drawn!"

"Let's see if we can peek inside to see who's there first. We have the advantage with the flame light illuminating the inside. We should be able to see what's inside before they can see us out here."

"Rock, paper, scissors?" Cutwell asks, putting out his fist. The wet drums against his hooded head, and he just wants to get inside!

"Best of three?" he offers, preparing to play for the miserable duty of rogue!