Catacomb of Ashes In-Character

[Twelveseal]

As Virgo freed herself, the chaos only worsened. The archers posted around the beach take aim and loose, but at the savage beasts tearing through the palisade and not the escaping captives.

The sky rumbles with thunder once more as the first fat drops of rain begin to fall, few, yet heavy. Out on the sea, lightning dances on the waves.

Ropes are torn free from the wrists of a lithe man, rescued by a woman who had just moments before breathed fire at her would-be attackers. Men who even now charged at her and the man she'd freed. He ripped the blindfold from his eyes and took in the scene with sharp eyes.

"Tch! Weapon, need a weapon..." It was clear he wasn't ungrateful by the simple fact that he hadn't bolted. However, thanks were an afterthought, paid with a nod to the woman who still perched atop the pole. "Shit... There!" His eyes landed on the supplies piled just beyond the sands, beneath the trees. And with that he was off, feet pounding divots into those same sands. The woman, for her part, merely smirked.

[Draconic]

Rixia Ad-Khalein
Night?



Rixia gave a start as she felt her bonds give way. It took some willpower not to flail about just in case she wasn’t actually being rescued, but with how adamant her captors were about keeping her restrained earlier, it was unlikely that they would free her now, even if it might save their lives. Not that she would help them for free. While that kind of generosity wasn’t exactly out of character for her, it was at least reserved for people who hadn’t tried to kill her in the past half-hour.

C’mon, a girl had to have standards.

She immediately grabbed at the blindfold, and pulled it back and over her head, tossing it aside.

“Thanks,” she greeted the woman in front of her, taking a moment to massage her sore wrists. “I was getting really sick of all that.”

She wasn't particularly enthusiastic about seeing what was going on for any reason other than making sure she could survive the next few minutes, but at this point, she was expecting something that was flat-out insulting.

Roll for Perception = 23 (to try and figure out what in the name of Lemuria’s dancing chickens is going on)

The situation is devolving into utter chaos. The initial creature that the cultists clashed with was probably this thing that's still on a pole:

This thing that's still on a pole (click for image)

Okay, that was just an unfair advantage, that girl had actual for-real puppy dog eyes. Rixia hadn't even said a word to her and she already wanted to be her best friend. She wanted to buy her a steak and pat her on the head. C'mon Rixia, get it together, this is a person, not a pet. Still, what kind of utter bastard would try to burn a wolf-girl with puppy-dog eyes at the stake? Well, uh... yeah, the answer to that question was all around her and having what looked and sounded like a very bad time. Cool.

Judging from the general location the noise was coming from and the conversation, it seems like they captured it near their perimeter.
As for what's currently attacking them, well...

It's pretty much exactly what it sounds like; they’re being assaulted by some kind of deformed dinosaurs. The big one looks like a Tyrannosaurus if you'd given it short, straight horns swept back from its skull and a vaguely beak-like mouth. The little ones have similar deformities, but are clearly some kind of deinonychus-like creatures. The lighting is uncooperative, but they seem to all share a red and black color pattern.

The cultists themselves are in disarray; some are running for their rafts, more interested in facing the storm than the beasts. Others are trying to subdue escaping captives. Most have rallied to a strong-looking man who's probably Ouyig.

Probably Ouyig (click here for image)

“I’ll admit, I should have been expecting something stupid. But this is my fault for assuming I was in a sacrificial pit and not at a damn circus.”

It was a pretty new experience. She usually loved it when she was right. Oh well. At least she had a better idea of what was going on and what her surroundings were like. And could move. That was a plus.

Other cultists are trying to get a woman in robes to the boats with limited success, in part because she keeps trying to compel them to kill the sacrifices. Presumably Esthra.

Esthra (click here for image)

Of note, there is a large burn scar on her face that marrs her looks.

A few of the warriors are ignoring both of their leaders and trying to escape behind the stone doors carved into the mountain's base, seemingly deciding that's the safest place to be. What exactly is beyond that door, though, is a mystery.

Right. Esthra. She stared at the woman, this... utter disgrace of a magician... and was just incensed.

This whole shenanigan had gone way past annoying and boring, and now she didn’t even care about that. This was getting absurd! It was a complete mess!

And Esthra was just demanding that her not-quite-followers come back and give their lives for… whatever her cause was. Rixia was honestly starting to doubt she had one. This woman was a terrible priestess. Mad or not, they were supposed to be faithful to their patron deity, and Rixia was beginning to think that Esthra’s had distanced itself not out of malice or apathy as was typical, but just because she was so, unbelievably bad at playing her role.

A lot of the prisoners were beyond saving, but just as many had escaped and were either fleeing, attacking their captors, or like her own rescuer, freeing other sacrifices. Oh, and apparently there were saurian creatures running amok in the sacrifice pit. Because of course there were. Were they here because of that beastkin person?

No, that didn’t make sense. But why were they here, then? They had similar characteristics, and seemed to be working together, but they were very clearly not all of the same species. They had to have been sent here by people. But no one knew there was anything here, right? Wait, no, that was just an assumption because anything less would be obscenely stupid! Which depended on another assumption that Esthra had any idea what she was doing, which she didn’t! Which meant…

“Oh my god,” she groaned helplessly. “No… Did she not do background checks on her sacrifices?! Did she—Of course she didn’t, she’s dumber than a rock,” Rixia almost sounded like she was about to cry, “so she just had her mooks snatch anyone off the street and actually expected no one would notice. Holy shit she pisses me off so much she’s just so stupid! How is she even a mage?!” This whole execution was just so dumb! Why?!

And Esthra was still only concerned with making sure as many people died especially for her. How did this woman even make it to her current position?

Roll for Persuasion = 4 (to get Esthra to get back here)

“Hurry, complete the ceremony faster, you weak-minded fools!” Rixia drawled in a crass imitation of the priestess’ voice. Ironically, it sounded a lot more pleasant than the real thing. “Esthra, you’re now explicitly demanding that your followers botch your so-called ritual!” she shrieked in pure outrage. “And now you're running away on top of that! Honestly, who even cares?”

“Nice scar by the way. Your face is almost as gross as your personality. Let me guess; a little souvenir from the last time you messed up this exact ritual, right? Unless it was somehow even more embarrassing. C'mon, you can tell me, I'm not exactly a stranger to shoddy spellcraft and magical mishaps. You know, if whatever you’re trying to sacrifice us to even exists, rushing its summoning ritual, or… whatever you’re trying to do, is just as likely as not to backlash on you! Or more likely, doing nothing, or just something unpredictable and pointless. I’m sure you don’t care if you die to summon it, but what about dying to accidentally jab it in one of the eyes? Does it have eyes? Actually, don’t answer that, the only way I could care less would be if I didn’t exist. Oh! What about dying to posthumously give birth to a flying tuna?” she giggled at the absurdity. “Would you like that? Is that good for you?”

Rixia honestly never even imagined that she had integrity as a mage – or that such a thing was even possible – sorcery was taboo. But this was the most slipshod execution of any spell that she had ever encountered, and it was infuriating! Not to mention that she would know; she was telling Esthra the truth. She wasn’t a stranger to shoddy spellcraft and magical mishaps. She’d had some very embarrassing experiments herself when she started learning. But this? This was in a class of its own. She couldn’t take much more of this sideshow.

Oh, actually, Rixia did have an idea about how Esthra managed to become high priestess of whoever-Not-Sothoth. Literally everyone else went and died. Like the rotting sewer rats you’d find in an alley behind a cheap food cart after a particularly greasy thunderstorm.

“I don’t give a damn what your state of mind is, or who you worship. Try to burn us all if you absolutely have to. But for the sake of everything that you claim to believe in, and so that everyone here doesn’t end up as some dirty joke about overcooked meat with you orgasming as the punchline, could you at least make sure your demonic ritual doesn’t do literally nothing?! Because I'm pretty sure that’s exactly what’s going to happen now.

“Do you even care about pleasing your god, or is this big show you’ve put on just your personal bloodsport! Answer me, you hack!”

[Twelveseal]

For all that Rixia yelled her criticisms, the rant was lost in the distance and rising din. The deranged priestess seemed to have heard none of it.

[Draconic]

Rixia Ad-Khalein
Night?

No reaction?

Really?

"Gosh, she really is rude," Rixia muttered to herself. She shrugged. Oh well. No use dwelling on it. Esthra would be back later. She was counting on it. The woman was, after all, an idiot. She wouldn't be able to resist coming back here to... do whatever she wanted to do with the charred corpses. Pose them? Lick them? Play with them? It was sure to be something gross and deeply unpleasant. Esthra clearly wasn't in it for faith if she wanted to continue a ceremony after it had been interrupted beyond repair. Well, either that, or she was just a lot dumber than Rixia had concluded. Whatever happened, she'd be coming back here, and this neighborhood tinkerer would be waiting. Hopefully she wouldn't get herself (completely) eaten by reptilian theropods before she could deliver her due invective. But for now, she had other business.

She couldn't just leave the wolf girl to die. Unfortunately, there were a number of cultists — or maybe just thugs — between her and her target. They'd be a problem, but only if she got too close, since they were already panicking. It really wasn't very impressive. Here was Rixia, unarmed, stripped to her underwear, and until a minute ago, tied up and blindfolded, and she was more composed than the brute squad.

She really wished she had her spellbook.Here was Rixia, unarmed, stripped to her underwear, and until a minute ago, tied up and blindfolded, and she was more composed than the brute squad.



She really wished she had her spellbook.

[Twelveseal]

With a roar of frustration, the wiry old northman still bound seems to muster some inner strength from his wiry muscles, snapping the strained rope his movements had already frayed. "Can't you worthless whores just shut up!?!" With one free hand he jerks the blindfold from his eyes as he drops to the sands below, joints cracking and creaking as he moves. "Can't even let a man die in fucking peace..." He wraps the cloth around his hand and sets to wrenching a thick chunk of jagged stone from around the base of his former sacrificial pole. "Gods-damned lunatics and their slack-jawed babble..." He continues to grumble as he works, throwing his sun-browned back into it.

Meanwhile, the deranged priestess seems to have finally caught some small piece of Rixia's rant... or maybe not. Perhaps her fervor, her madness, is such that she can no longer withhold her desire to see the sacrifices given to her god. In either case, she lashes out with her strange spear, pointing the charred wood at the shouting young woman. The heavens seem to answer her, as a pillar of flame twists out of the stormy sky to strike where the girl stands! Her mad casting, however, isn't enough to prevent the warriors attending her from doing as their commander ordered, virtually dragging her towards the boats.

[Wardogs667]

Sigurd patiently waited for the situation to unfold and see if the rest of the captives would be just as audacious as him. With the cacophony that was now ensuing it was sure that the others had gotten off their hooks, good. Sigurd himself then proceeded to slip off his hook and restraints and immediately looked to free the person he was just speaking to; not only out of the promise but more bodies never hurt a fight.

**Roll for perception: 8** Sigurd too focused on getting more bodies into the fray only bothered with a quick look around and caught so much as to only see the confusion on either side. and that the one beside him was now gone.


"HAHAHA, so much for that one!"

**Roll for perception: 13** Looking around again: "So it's a free for all..." Sigrud rushes the nearest cult member. As he rushes to the nearest foe he shouts to Ireki, "Fancy you here; we'll talk later!"

Sigrud readies for battle as he comes to a stop.

[Twelveseal]

The woman Sigurd moved to rescue looks up at him in confusion and a mix of gratitude and annoyance as she finally drops from her post and removes her blindfold, carefully eyeing the chaos. "You... thank. Appreciate?" Her features twist into a scowl as she tries to decide what to do.

She takes particular note of the burliest of the cultists, armed with heavy axes and blades of bone as they charge to Ouyig's aid or to secure the boats. "Should go." She nods to Sigurd and crouches, following the lean man who'd run for the supplies, though she seems more interested in using the sparse trees and brush to cover her movements.

Meabwhile, Sigurd's shout reaches its intended target. With a jolt of surprise, the wolf-like woman, whose eyes the cultists hadn't bothered to cover, whips her head to look at him where he stands. Surprise and confusion give way to recognition and a fierce smile as she sees him.
"Lord Shisa smiles upon us, surely! I can see you haven't neglected his training, so let us do his work!" She looks back at the savage beasts that tear at the fortifications around the beach.

"Besides... the Fire Demons children will treat us no more kindly than these madmen will." And with that the wolf-woman, Ireki, drops from her pole, revealing her torn bonds, and makes not for the supplies but to Sigurd's side.

- - - Updated - - -

Ghoro, meanwhile, finally manages to wrest the axe from his opponent's belt and begins the straightforward task of returning it to him via his face. He barely seems to be inconvenienced by the knives sticking from his hide.

[Draconic]

There may have been some tangible warning. Someone chanting, or making an arcane gesture. If there was, Rixia didn’t notice it.

As a rule, she trusted her instincts. She didn’t always have the best judgement, but she at least could be sure of her awareness.

Roll for Reflex Save = 22 (Natural 20)

What she noticed was how it felt. She sensed the magic almost before it hit; the torrent of energy coalescing beneath her. She took a breath and whirled aside, just barely vacating her position as a pillar of twisting flames erupted from the ground.

“Whoops. I think someone was just a little off there,” she grinned, then with a roll of her eyes, “I guess it’s fair game to just set fire to anyone for now?

“Come too think of it, if whatever rite these guys were trying to pull off just needed them to burn people, why didn’t they do that sooner? Did Esthra the Understudy not have the ability or talent to make this pretty light show by herself, or is someone just really bad at timing their spellcraft?”

Rixia had to admit, she felt… lighter in a way she couldn’t really describe in a physical sense. She’d never had the chance to be truly open about magic anywhere except her mentor’s ‘cottage.’ It was nice not to have to hide anything.

Of course, there was still plenty of time for some fear-driven lout to come after her after things started to settle down.

[Mormarth]

Saraya

Okay.

Inhale, cough on smoke, cough some more.

Cough.

Clear your throat.

Cup hands around mouth, inhale (better), exhale.

Right.

Best thing to do when situation is out of control and reference is bring it back to reference.

So, shift.

This is a riot, city guards are coming down on everyone involved, the best thing to do in that case is slip off into the shadows and get to a temple and blend in.

Unfortunately, this is in the middle of some godsforsaken jungle-island and the locals appear highly predatory.

So.

Slip off into the shadows and...

I cast my eyes to the structure a bit further back into the jungle, that has the look of a stockpile.

I could test my luck and sneak on that archer focusing on those beasties, but then that makes them 'my' problem, and the fellow with the axe is right out.

So, go for what expands my options.

I get low to the ground, thinking inconspicious thoughts, and skulk off in the direction of what would expand my options.

And hopefully, I'll have room for extras.

Charity is godly, after all.

[Twelveseal]

The strange woman who had freed the lithe man dangles from the metallic pole for a moment longer, her gazed locked on something in the direction that same man was running. Something had caught her eye at the pile of crates, barrels, and jumbled equipment. However, the yell of another man, one whose chest smoldered from the flames she'd unleashed on him, drew her back to her own predicament. With another deep breath, with more faint blue sparks, she unleashed yet another strangely-roaring torrent of blue flame at the man, before hurling herself down to the sands once more. This time, however, she bolted behind Rixia, a wry smile on her face as she made for the last remaining captive; a portly man with heavy mustache and beard who even now whimpered where he hung.

However, she stumbled as she moved, for the ground itself trembled. The volcano rumbled as if in answer to the coming storm's thunder, belching smoke to meet the clouds... and with it, something else. With a cacophony of screeches, something took flight from amid the crags and rocks. Leathery wings beat the night sky as a multitude of strange, bat-like creatures lurched into the sky and flitted among the trees, tearing at anything in their path!

Meanwhile, the young warrior Vargrulf worked to free finally is, the two of them managing to untie his bonds just in time for him to drop down, the flames of the madman's own immolation kindling the fuel beneath them. He clears the flames readily, a rope-marked hand offered to help Vargrulf down. "Well met, Vargrulf. I am Dor, a son of Jeroo, and I offer you many thanks. I will fight by your side proudly!"

[SpoonyViking]

Vargrulf of the Nordskaari

Vargrulf clasps Dor's hand with his own and smiles. "Then come, son of Jeroo. We must arm ourselves."

As he accepts Dor's help, Vargrulf quickly scans the battlefield and considers his options. To take a fallen enemy's weapon? Or to reach the pile of supplies? Quickly making up his mind, he nods to himself and beckons for Dor to follow. "To me, friend! And you, Greybeard, come! We'll have a better chance if we fight together!"

So saying, he charges towards the supply pile, trying his best to avoid enemies, even swatting them aside with his torch as needed while he focuses on reaching the equipment.

(OOC: Move towards the pile of supplies to arm myself; double move if needed. I'm trying to avoid OAs as much as possible; I'll risk *one* OA to try and reach the pile on this action, but if it exposes me to two OAs or more, I'd rather take more time.)

[Twelveseal]

As the warriors drag Esthra nearer the boats, a sharp cry rings out from one of the archers overlooking the chaos. One that pierces through the din of battle. Arrows that had been turned towards reptilian beasts that had begun to slip through the fences or yet threatened to are turned sharply upward and loosed.

They are answered with talon and flame as the broken skeleton of the ancient ship that towered over the site is set ablaze by a terrible impact, by something winging through the otherworldly lights that hang over the sacrificial grounds. The warriors dragging Esthra towards the boats panic, reverse coarse, and instead drag her to cover behind a rocky outcrop as another smoldering shape lands upon the stones that sheltered their own boats and tears into the unfortunate archer who couldn't get clear fast enough. It's toothy maw rips arm and shoulder alike from her body.

Massive, saurian heads crowned with a pair of long, straight, backward-pointed horns. Jaws like beaks with a wicked hook, and yet lined with long, sharp teeth. Great, leathery wings for forelimbs and powerful, grasping talons for hind, with long, barbed tails, their skin covered in thick, stony armor and scarlet scales, both of which seem to seethe with an inner fire, like molten rock pulsing beneath their monstrous hides. Baleful eyes of red and gold pierce the night as the mountain far above shudders, belching smoke and a prominence of lava. The air grows palpably hotter as more of the creatures glide through their darkness, their bodies giving off the ruddy glow of a campfire's dying embers. Their monstrous roars join the chorus of screams and screeches.

As one of the creatures flies over the palisade and the heads of the beasts beyond, even Ouyig is given pause. His head darts back to Esthra and the boats... only to see another of the creatures flies past the boats, scouring the remaining archer and warriors who guard them with an explosive blast of flame, the impact spreading flame across the tarred wood. A look of horror spreads across his face as the realization of what just happened dawns on him quickly.

"To the catacombs! Fall back! Fall back now! And with that he begins his own retreat, hurling yet another spear with deadly accuracy into the ranks of the beasts that even now worry at the fragile wood separating them from fresh flesh. The commander shouts orders as he moves, most of them lost in the noise and chaos of battle, but his commands to get Esthra into the catacombs and regroup there sound out loud and clear as he moves.

The leanest and lithest of his men seem to have already gotten the message, taking a few small supplies from the pile or darting through the stone doors into the mountain empty-handed.

These events only seem to drive the desperate cries of the fat man still bound to his pole into a fever pitch. As he struggles and squirms, his weight seems to finally overcome the resilience of his rope, the cords giving way and dumping him unceremoniously on the sands to flail about in panic and surprise as he screams and cries for help.

[arkturus]

Rhienn of Dhal Mesh

Screams filled the sky as the beach descended into chaos. While her first instinct was to run, Rhienn’s legs gave out underneath her and she could only gaze at the demons burning with internal fire as they swept through the air, bringing ruin with flame and fang.

Flame and fang.

This had happened to her once before in a dream.

Flame and fang.

Even as the memory clung to the recesses of her mind it eluded her as dreams often do. The moment she could grasp it the image would drift away, tantalizingly out of reach like the sweet smoke from the pipe her master often puffed as she meditated.

Fleeting shadows chased by flame and fang trace a path of broken shells…

But as Rhienn searched her mind for the answer, her eyes were caught by a strange yellow light. From the trees of the forest it floated lazily, like a falling leaf carried by a cool night breeze she remembered several summers ago. Rheinn could not take her eyes off of the light. She would have mistaken it for a forest wisp but as it passed her she could make out the form of a pale moth.

There was something peaceful about its presence. Serene. Otherworldly. Perhaps even divine. Time came to a stand-still as it came bobbing downward, fluttering gently amidst the chaos. Not a head nor an eye among the cultists turned to follow its path except those of the fire-breathing woman. until it came to rest on the hilt of a sword the jutted out from the pile of supplies.

What a beastly weapon it was, not made of stone nor of forged ore. Its hilt was decorated with massive bronze scales and tufts of fur. A giant claw of a great beast was sharpened to form its curved blade of immense length. A true monster hunter’s weapon, design to cleave the very creatures it was forged from.

The pale moth fluttered its wings one last time before the body of a cultist running past obscured it and it was no longer there.

And like that the moment was over.

The clamor of battle resounded once more as the young girl tried to make sense of what was happening here. A waking dream? An omen? A sign from one of the Savage Gods, one of a different aspect?

The child seer narrowed her eyes as she followed the winged beasts. Their scales seemed as volcanic rock, veined with the pulsing heat of molten earth. They did not follow one leader but swarmed together, breaking against the mass of fleeing cultists as waves crash against the shore. Here and there, some broke off from the group to instead attack those unfortunate sacrifices who were yet burning.

The path forward became ever so slightly clearer.

Rhienn of Dhal Mesh rose to her feet and breathed a plea into existence.

"Hear me o' condemned sacrifices!” She intoned into the air. “We cannot stay here, lest the legion of firespawn turn their baleful eyes upon us. We must away from this place while they nip at the heels of our captors and let Fate guide us forward! We make to the South!"

She reached out with her mind towards a strong soul, the beastwoman with wolven features.

O warrior, I have found your weapon.

[Twelveseal]

The lupine woman, Ireki, perks up at the sudden contact, but seems confused as to just where it came from, her ears twitching rapidly on the distance. However, if Rhienn's telepathic message was only partially received, then her spoken one was heard in full; "Agreed! Let us not linger!"

"Hah! As if you have to tell me twice!" The red-haired woman shouts her agreement, turning her foe's torch from his grip and burying it deep in the back of his screaming throat. His axe soon dances across her fingers. "Bit light for my tastes."

"Way ahead of you!" The man bolting for the supplies shouts back.

The old man trying to rip out a stone club gives what could be a grunt of assent. Probably. Or maybe just strain as he tears at the fulgurite with the determination of a stubborn elder.

The fat man merely whimpers and groans as he works to haul himself up in the sand, but Dor shouts his assent with a loud "Aye!"

The fire-breathing woman, meanwhile, gives a wry smile and a nod of approval.

Meanwhile, the cultists seem more preoccupied with fending off the encroaching monsters or fleeing for their lives. The men dragging Esthra actually lift her from the ground, carrying her bodily now towards the safety of the stone doors. With the boats burning, more and more bodies break for the doors, though many still try to hold some semblance of formation with Ouyig's retreat.

[Sixkiller]

Virgo of Katagia

Untold years in the near company of demise prepared Virgo to once again face the old friend. Instinct over all animated her legs in sudden motion. As a smart creature would upon seeing a horde of predators approach it, the desire to run came from head to toe. The violent strikes on the sand propelled her body to those doors of hewed stone.

One could have mistook those marvelous limbs of hers—their primitive prowess unlocked—as that of a thick-muscled panther. Underneath her tangled mane her gray eyes blazed with untempered savagery. Quick words, more in the form of grunts, escaped the tight knot around her neck.

“By the gods above, this is a black day,” Virgo said. Seemingly neither of the faiths, good and bad, had their patron on hand; the firespawns, bereft of thought, ruled where the eyes could see. Their terror was shared liberally.

Wit returned in pieces to her mind. A slow onslaught of civilized teachings dulled the fire in her eyes. “Oh, confound this jungle and the mysteries it holds. I smell the smell of soot and sorcery, the archfiend to fair knowledge.”

[Twelveseal]

With a thunderous roar that ascends into a bird-like screech, the most massive of the invading beasts slams its tail into the faltering palisade, the wood splintering violently. Long shafts, like makeshift spears, rain down from the sky, sending cultists nearby, and even at a distance diving for cover. The unlucky ones caught the wooden missiles full in the flesh. The hulking beast snaps wildly at those still near it, its smoldering, volcanic hide smoking where arrows, axes, and actual spears jut from it. Its next bellow shakes the air, rippling with the heat of its breath and searing body. The ground seems to shake with every terrible step as it strides into the sacrificial grounds. For now, its burning eyes are aimed at the cultists. ​For now.


The archers who yet remain all but break at this sight, fleeing towards the catacombs. A few fire off stray shots at the creature or the smaller horrors, or simply try to dodge out of the way of the things. Any thought of the captives seems to have left them.

Meanwhile, the lithe man fetches up against the pile of supplies, rummaging through it and tossing aside anything that gets in his way as he digs for what must be his. A cultist seems to be doing the same, strewing about odds and ends, some of which likely seem familiar to other captives. For a tense moment their eyes meet, arms tense, and... both start rummaging faster, pointedly ignoring each other. The lean man comes away with a pair of simple daggers and something that might have been his makeshift armor, as well as something else he grips tight before turning back to look at the woman who freed him, motioning with his head for her to come on.

The old man working at his stone, meanwhile, manages to rip a great chunk free, giving him a rough, crude, jagged club of stone. His first test swing plants the broken head in the skull of one of the smaller monsters as it lunges for him. His only response is to grunt and spit before making his way towards some crude, sun and salt bleached leathers now scattered from the supply pile... presumably his. He seems more irritated by the whole situation than anything else.

[Draconic]

Rixia Ad-Khalein
Night

Roll for Persuasion = 5 [to annoy Esthra]
(FAILURE)

“I didn’t realize that such a powerful looking spell could be such a complete and utter dud! You literally had fire fall out of the sky and home in on me, and still managed to miss! I guess it just goes to show how much your god favors you: That is to say, not only would he not give a flying ferret about your efforts in his name – supposedly – he’s never even noticed that you exi—!”

And then the mountain exploded, and things got... uh... interesting. Surely not scary and panicky, no, no. Not at all.

“Okay, it’s a volcano, good to knoooooohhh son of a— That is not good!”

What she had taken for a massive shard of molten rock turned out to be far more animated than she had planned for. And had a lot more teeth than she was used to seeing on rocks. Luckily, it wasn’t immediately after her, and was actually just ripping the cultists apart. Typical. No one ever shows the cute, orphaned Atlantean woman attention, not even a voracious wyvern creature.

With this thing making such a fuss, it would be a literal miracle if Esthra had heard a word she said.

She stared up at the molten-skinned beast that had so easily, if perhaps unwittingly, usurped Ouyig’s position as most important animal outside the temple. Her gaze was equal parts wonder and terror; she might have been a practising tradeswoman and more than a little eccentric, but she wasn’t laboring under any sort of delusion that she could face that monster and survive for more than a few seconds. She’d die like a stray dog, which she kind of was, in a way, but that was beside the point.

If the internal glow was anything to go by, that thing could probably light this entire ceremonial ground up in ways that would make that annoying priestess squeal in delight, assuming it didn’t turn her into a charred skeleton first. But as cathartic as that might sound, there was one thing she was sure about, it was that she didn’t want to hang around for that part of the show.

Wait, was this thing perhaps Esthra’s god? If it was, then Rixia really hoped it was attacking everything indiscriminately, or else she was going to feel incredibly awkward.

Roll for Knowledge (Arcane) = 19 [Determining what the creature is]
(SUCCESS)

Wait, no, of course it wasn't a god! She'd seen things a lot like it in her grandfather's bestiaries, though there were some very obvious differences that she couldn't immediately account for.

Meh, that didn't mean that Esthra wasn't drunk on her own hysteria more than enough to think that what amounted to a wild animal was a divine entity. Then it roared again, and she realized that her gait had shortened as she got lost in thought and kicked herself for being so careless.

"Come on, pick up the pace," she murmured to herself."

Someone had set the wolf girl free, one of their fellow prisoners. That would save her some trouble.

“To the catacombs! Fall back! Fall back now!”

So, he could make tactical decisions beyond ‘kill yourselves so that the witch can indulge her pyromania with reckless abandon.’ Good to know, she’d have to watch out for that one. Between him and Esthra, he was probably going to be the bigger threat since he could think of things besides burning people when there was a high chance that doing so would get himself killed. She filed away that information for future review.

Still, that wasn’t at the forefront of her mind. The important thing was that he mentioned a catacomb, and they were outside an ancient temple. There was no question about it. Ancient temples meant thrills, traps, and treasure, and that had her treasure hunter's spirit more fired up than the dragon thing that was eating cultists for dinner.

Something like a bug bite, if considerably sharper made her reflexively smack her neck and she winced. Pulling her hand away revealed nothing, but then she noticed the arrow on the ground that had almost lodged itself in her throat.

“The threat is the giant lizard, you nimrods,” she grumbled. She wanted to shout, but she knew better to draw attention to herself in front of said giant lizard.

Rixia made a sprint for the catacomb entrance.

Sure, it was full of people who wanted to kill her, but on the bright side, none of them would be able to swallow her whole.

She hoped. That'd be pretty creepy.

[Twelveseal]

With a wail of frustration at the sight and sound of the massive creature now making its way through the sacrificial grounds, Esthra finally gives in to her handlers' urgings and joins them in fleeing to the stone door carved into the mountain. As she goes, she casts about with another pillar of flame, scouring an approaching raptor from the world.

All around the beach, amid the trees, clashes erupt as beasts clash with cultists. Spears and daggers and arrows fly, axes cleave and swords cut. Blood of man and monster stain the sands and greenery as the skirmishes grow more frequent. The unfortunate lie in pools of their own blood, torn open by blade or claw.

[Wardogs667]

As Sigurd ran to the first cultist in his sights, to start the revenge for the kidnapping and slaughter of so many, he dove and gave his full weight into his strike.

Result: 1d20 (3) + 6 = 9
(Miss)

As Sigurd made his attack a large roar disrupted his concentration and sent a shiver down his spine. Despite leaving himself open towards the cultist he looked to see what could have caused such a noise and saw the large beast. At its entrance the already chaotic battleground was swallowed by fear. While Sigurd only knew of Ireki and had no attachment to the rest of the kidnapped group, in this land to stay together was survival. Following Rixia's lead and motioning Ireki to follow, he made his was as well into the catacombs.

Who knows what lies within the underground grave, but if all the cards are played right, it could suit as a grave for the kidnappers and offer supplies if they made their camp here.

[Twelveseal]

While Sigurd struck out for the ominous gateway through the trees, Ireki hesitated, staring at the pile of supplies, clearly wondering about the voice that had whispered in her mind. After a moment, the animal-like woman broke from her fellow's course and made for the stacks instead. Her lithe companion was quickly leaving her behind after their unexpected reunion.

Meanwhile, the small, swift, savage creatures that had slipped through the now splintered palisade ran amok through the clearing and the tree, their bodies marked as if made of stone and magma, their sickle claws glowing with internal heat. They clashed with the cultists, seeking them out as if driven by instinct or madness. The greeting they found matched their own, with the mightiest of the deranged men wielding heavy axes, hammers, and blades against the small terrors. Blood both warm and molten splattered against the foliage as men roared and screamed, and beasts did likewise.

Having finished off his opponent, Ghoro lurches back up to his feet, gore-stained axe in hand. "Hmph!" With a grunt, he pulls one of the daggers from his side and hurls it at the back of a cultist in the distance carelessly. "Bah!" That it missed only seemed to irritate him further. "Need a decent spear in my hands for these bastards." And with that, he begins to make his way towards the supply pile, staying out of the way of the bestial creatures... Even as the Dhari huntress Sigurd had sought to free reaches the stacks and begins rummaging alongside the fast man from before.

Meanwhile, Saraya's attempts to ghost through the battlefield seem to be successful... though she can hear the distant sounds of small, fluttering wings growing louder, she draws nearer the pile of supplies without challenge. There's still plenty of cover for her to use as chaos reigns around her.