The Flowery War [Invite Only]

[MoxexPenNama]

[The Story Thus Far. . .
Three Vulture, decadent Great Speaker of the Land Between the Waters, hired your mercenary selves to track down the bandit Tecuani's encampment and reconnoiter there with another spy, Eight House. Brendan was a young merchant, Alex was a Sioux-type barbarian, and Brian was a thief and general scum. You traveled south for several days before coming to a jungle region wherein lay the plateau upon which Tecuani had pitched his camp. You kept hearing rumors about Tecuani the whole way there, learning that he had been kept in Three Vulture's zoo because he had the ability to take the form of a jaguar. The only way up to the encampment was through a network of ruins filled with traps, riddles, and monsters. At one point in your trip through said ruins, you came across a portal that led down into a strange, watery realm filled with ghosts. Finding a group of ghosts playing ball with a human head, wearing a mask, you removed the mask at the head's fervent request. At that, all the ghosts began to scream, and a great, tentacled demon chased you back to daylight. Upon finally making it out of the ruins, Tecuani greeted you by asking if you'd come to see Eight House, and pointing to where the ex-spy's head sat on a skullrack. At that point, you all leveled with Tecuani that you had, in fact, come at Three Vulture's request and agreed to serve him instead.]

Tecuani rises, grimacing. The black paint on his face makes it look more like a mask than flesh. As his long cloak parts, you see the deep scars on his legs and a sash decorated with dried, mummified faces above his loincloth. In his eyes you see a look almost inhuman in its ferocity. It takes you a moment to realize the man himself can't be more than thirty.
"So you'll serve me? Anybody would, with a knife held to his throat. We no longer live in an age when men welcome the flowery death. That you made it through the ruins bespeaks a certain bravery on your parts, but still. . ."
He pauses, turning to his guards and priests.
"If you mean to serve me, if your change of heart is for the sake of your souls and not your hides, then I'll need you to prove it. If you still serve Three Vulture and wish a holy death, I'll provide that as well. And if, at the last, you're merely mercenaries caught in a war too big for you, I'll let you leave. But speak honestly to me, for if you mean to tell me falsehoods and keep spying, then you've already been found out."
What do you do?

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"You seem to consider 'mercenary' a bad term. I'm willing to work with you, as long as I'm able to legally end my contract with Three Vulture, and, of course, as long as you are willing to pay me more than Three Vulture did."

I wrack my brain to discover if Tecuani has any underground connections that I can exploit or blackmail.

Knowledge: Streetwise [roll0]

[BDEYE]

"I came here to do a boon for a friend of my family. I'm not sure how aligning with you will do my soul any good."

[MoxexPenNama]

Tecuani smiles at Xicotencatl's words.

"I don't consider 'mercenary' a dirty word. Our people had their start as mercenaries. Nor do I consider 'spy' a dirty word. If I'm right, Three Vulture sent you here to reconnoiter with Eight House. You've been found out, Xicotencatl. Because I see you're a man of talent, I'm offering you a bargain.
With me you will get food, equipment, and anything you can loot. Should you prove yourself loyal and capable, there may be further rewards. If you wish to work for me, you can. If you wish to die honorably, as a warrior, you can. If you just wish to go your way, you can. If you try to bargain and look askance at my generosity, I can have you strangled like a common thief and thrown to the coyotes."

[You can't really think of anything blackmail-worthy about Tecuani. He was kept in a cage for several years by Three Vulture because he had two souls, one of which allowed him to change into a jaguar. After that, he fled and became a bandit and mercenary, eventually attaining the rank of Jaguar Knight. After a time, he began gathering disheartened soldiers to him and declared himself in revolt against Three Vulture. He has a reputation for being canny, fierce, and completely merciless.]

[MoxexPenNama]

Tecuani shrugs.
"A man's soul is best served in battle, Mizton. Follow me and your soul will be well-served. If Three Vulture is such a great friend of your family, then why did he have to pay you to come find me? And why did he send you, knowing that all his other spies had been found out? He sent you because you were nothing to him, Mizton. He keeps his warriors, captains and generals close to him. He cares nothing for the lives of mercenaries, merchants and foreigners."
Tecuani looks at each of you in turn as he says that.
"He kept me five years in a cage, threw me bits of meat every time it rained. Chattered to me when I was a man about his insipid loves and rivalries. I was a beast to him, and you're all slaves."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl pipes in, apparently not listening to Tecuani's speech at all:
"Still, there are legal ramifications for breaking my contract with Three Vulture. If you can help me get out of these problems I'm all yours."

[MoxexPenNama]

"Legal ramifications? Yes, that's true. If Three Vulture's laws hold sway over the Land Between the Waters, there are. But to the west, the Fish People make war against him. The Jaguar People grow restive in the south and the Dog Men sweep down from the north, raiding and destroying. The gods used to fill themselves with the blood of men, but under Three Vulture, they are given dollops and trickles. If they grow weak, the star demons will overwhelm them and destroy us. Now tell me--how powerful is Three Vulture's law? Would any fit Speaker allow such rebellion and neglect in the Empire?"
He sits back down on his dais, picking up a bowl of octli.
"What just law makes capable warriors like yourselves the errand boys and servants of a fat coward like Three Vulture? Were I Speaker, my laws would be different."

[BDEYE]

"How would they be different?"

[MoxexPenNama]

"Were I Speaker," says Tecuani. "I would favor men of skill and competence, not cousins and sons. I would favor courage, not send it to die needlessly on suicidal quests. I would conquer and reunite, not sit in luxury."

[souldoubt]

Having remained silent until now, Itzcuintli speaks up. "If we serve you and you replace Three Vulture, how do we know you will really rule as you say you will now?"

[MoxexPenNama]

"A fair question," says Tecuani. "I sat in a cage for five years. I had my time of indolence and luxury. But while other boys went off to the Flowery War and became men, I grew fat and stayed a boy. Why would I want to return to that?"

[BDEYE]

Mizton disappears into himself, and thinks.

"Good words," he finally says. "But still only words. What have you done? What would you have us do?"

[MoxexPenNama]

"I would have you choose. Were you lesser men, like Eight House, I would have had you killed. But I respect you. You carry yourselves as warriors, so I want you to choose: serve me as warriors, or die as warriors on the stone."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"I can serve you as a warrior," says Xicotencatl. "I can also serve you as translator, or as a scout, or as a bounty hunter, or as a spy...There are many things I can do. I speak several languages."

(By the way, I want you all to realize that Xicotencatl resembles in visage and manerisms a Meso-American version of Steve Buscemi. Particulary, the lovable scumbag Steve Buscemi played in "Fargo.")

[MoxexPenNama]

"You may serve me in all those capacities before the end, Xicotencatl. And what about the rest of you?"


[Mesoamerican Steve Buscemihood duly noted.]

[BDEYE]

Mizton gently lowers his head.

"I will throw my lot in with you."

[souldoubt]

"I will fight for you," says Itzcuintli. "If I do not prove myself to be a loyal warrior on the battlefield of your choosing, then I ask only that you give me an honorable death by torture -- not a short-lived coward's death on the execution block."

[MoxexPenNama]

Tecuani nods, seemingly aware of the gravity of your decisions.
"Mizton, you merchants and I share a commitment to the same god, the great and ineffable Smoking Mirror. You have betrayed nobody by joining me. And Itzcuintli, should you wish it, I shall give you tortures to test the mettle of any warrior. In the meantime, you shall be shown to quarters where you may rest and given food."
Tecuani gestures with his hand and a small cohort of guards detaches from his escort and leads you through the collection of palapas roofed with palm fronds and mudbrick houses. The darkened camp seems to cover the whole plateau, and consists of people as diverse as yourselves. Jaguar People with slanted heads and ornate wooden helmets, Eagle People in cotton cloaks, mercenaries from the Anti Mountains with heavy, star-headed maces and bolos, Dog People bedecked in feathers and hides. . . .A patchwork crew of thieves, outcasts, misfits, vagabonds and camp followers brought together by the Gods only know what strange call. In rickety pens, turkeys preen themselves and plump, hairless dogs eat scraps of trash thrown to them. Whores wend their way among the shelters, tents and huts, advertising their bodies in a dozen different languages and dialects. The trees that haven't been cleared to build shelters and ramparts and skull racks drip the ubiquitous dew of the jungle, sheltering sullen-eyed, scarred men. The heavy smells of smoke and blood fill the encampment.
The guards stop at a small cabin built of mudbricks with a thatched roof.
"These are your quarters," says one of them, a young man of the Eagle People. "Tecuanitzin ordered food brought to you presently, revered sirs."
The guards depart, and in a short while a pair of middle-aged women approach you with bowls of atole, ears of corn, roast turkey and gourds of water. You sit and eat, realizing that whether you spoke sincerely to Tecuani or not, you're part of his band now. What do you do?

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Here's what I do:

I want to find out what the mask is and how much we can sell it for. I'm going to look for fences or anybody with knowledge of artifacts.

Specifically, I'm going to use Survival: City Rat background trait feature to do this. I get to make a Survival Check with a +2 bonus to try to find an informant in a settled area. The DC to find an informant is determined by the DM (the "Gather Information" stats would probably be most suitable because the Survival: City Rat background trait feature doesn't really specify how to look for dealers of information.

Survival: City Rat check: [roll0]

Or I'll just take 20.

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Oops. I forgot to add a +2 bonus to that; it should equal 14.

[souldoubt]

Just keep in mind that Itzcuintli is the one in possession of the mask.

[MoxexPenNama]

[If Itzcuintli agrees to give up the mask, finding a buyer for it shouldn't be too difficult in this camp, especially given the diversity of the market. In other words, you may take 20. Of course, whether Itzcuintli will want to give something up that nearly got you all torn limb from limb, I don't know.]

[BDEYE]

As he sees Xicotencatl start talking to people, he grows concerned.

"You're not seriously planning on selling that artifact, are you?"

[souldoubt]

[Since no one has mentioned anything to Itzcuintli about selling the mask, I'm going to assume that... well, no one's mentioned anything to him about selling the mask :smallsmile:]

Itzcuintli's brow lowers into a dangerous glower when he hears Mizton mention "selling" an "artifact." One hand strays to the mask secured firmly to his belt while his other hand hovers near the hilt of his war machete. "What are you talking about?"

[BDEYE]

Mizton shrugs.

"Talk to our mercenary friend. If you think giving it away for a few coins would be profoundly short-sighted, then I agree with you."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl raises both hands above his head, "Just doing some research, that's all. Seeing how much the mask is worth. We don't need the money now, but you can never tell. I like to keep my options open." He seems to have no idea that his activities have caused any strife within the party.

[BDEYE]

Mizton glowers, and then wanders off into the jungle for a few hours.

((Picking up a Venom point))

[MoxexPenNama]

[Mizton: Most of the jungle here has been cleared away, so finding the kinds of herbs and animals you'd need to make proper poisons will be difficult. The only way back to the jungle would be to work your way back down through the ruins by which you got to the plateau in the first place.]

[BDEYE]

Mizton returns to the encampment sooner then he'd expected, frustrated, and no longer with any way of distracting himself from his predicament. He decides to make the best of it and seek out some food while he still has a chance.

[S.K.U.M.M.]

To Mizton:

[OOC: There is no specific rule that says you have to gather the raw materials for poisons from a wilderness area. You could simply wander around the camp and ask people for any unused cleaning solvents, rotting fruits, ect ect that you could make into Venom Points. So, unless you are locked in a jail cell, you can pretty much gather Venom Points in any environment. This is at least my interpretation of the rules]

[MoxexPenNama]

[I would actually agree with this. There are probably enough shady people here that somebody would be able to provide you with the raw ingredients you need for your venom point.]

[souldoubt]

After he's finished eating the food provided, Itzcuintli sets about cleaning his weapons and getting his equipment in order, keeping a wary eye out as he does.

[BDEYE]

After eating, Mizton wanders around the camp and does what he can to find alternate sources of ingredients.

[MoxexPenNama]

Mizton returns with a sachel of dried odds and ends, and you all pass the night rather uneasily among the shouts and strange languages of the camp. In the morning several guards approach the hut and call out to you.
"Revered sirs, Tecuanitzin would like to speak to you."
The light of sunrise is just barely visible, and the morning is cold. What do you do?

[BDEYE]

Mizton approaches Tecuani's tent.

[MoxexPenNama]

You walk towards Tecuani's throne, past the skullracks, the huts and the crumbling, stepped temple whose steps are now stained with new blood. Approaching under the palm-leaf eves of his throne room, you see Tecuani sitting on his dais with a low table in front of him. Three bowls of chocolatl sit on the polished wood, along with warm tortillas and freshly-cooked meat.
"Good morning," he says. "I trust you slept well. Please, take your repast as you listen. I have need of your skills."
He beckons you to sit down on the cushions positioned around the table.

[BDEYE]

Mizton sits but waits before he eats.

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli seats himself, but doesn't let his guard down.

[MoxexPenNama]

Tecuani notes your guardedness and laughs.
"Eat and drink," he says. "If I'd wanted to kill you, don't you think I would have done it last night while you slept? Or the moment you stepped into my encampment?"
His face suddenly becomes serious.
"I understand your doubts, your distrust," Tecuani says. "One isn't normally welcomed into the camp of one's enemy. Most of the bumblers Three Vulture has sent this way I have killed--those that got beyond the ruins, at least, of which there were very few. The ones who did reach me usually did so as cowards: betraying companions, fleeing from battles, ignoring the mysteries of the place. But you three embraced those mysteries, investigated deeper than almost any other man in the thousand years since the Ancestors fell. Almost any other man. . ."
He becomes reflective for a moment, but continues.
"I have need of your skills," he says. "I have soldiers and strategists, but no generals. I put the point before you as baldly as I can. If I am to become Speaker, to remake the Land Between the Waters as an Empire, I need men of your talents not as soldiers, but as advisors. So there is something I need you to do.
"South of this camp by five days' travel, I have deployed a captain of mine, Angry Turkey, awaiting orders to strike at a garrison of Three Vulture's soldiers on the border of the lands of the Cloud People. Your task is to supply him my orders--"
Here he snaps his fingers, and a guard brings a folded scroll forward and lays it on the table.
"Seemingly simple, I realize--a messenger boy's errand, not a warrior's. But those five days of travel will take you through thick jungle haunted by bandits and spirits. Angry Turkey spent weeks detouring around them through the north, but my message to him is urgent, and must reach him in no more than a week's time. Have you any questions?"

[BDEYE]

Mixton listens. He has had time to think by now. He eats the food in front of him slowly and deliberately, completely cleaning his plate before he pushes it silently to the side.

"At the risk of becoming tiresome, it would make me more comfortable if I could read the message that I would be delivering."

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli eats silently as he takes in all that Tecuani says.

"I don't trust orders picked out on animal hides or whatever. Better tell me the full of your orders for this Angry Turkey. That way they're in my head where I know they're safe."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"Yes, I will find this man," says Xicotencatl. "And if he doesn't follow these orders, I can..." He makes a motion of slitting somebody's throat. "I'm rather good at that."

[MoxexPenNama]

Tecuani shrugs.
"The orders are simply a map--a plan of attack on the garrison. The garrison is a fortified town, Tilantongo, and it controls a key pass, the Serpent's Tunnel, leading through the mountains into the lands of the Cloud People. The map shows where I wish Angry Turkey to position his forces, and orders him to attack under cover of darkness, for the garrison's commander, Nine Reed, is a superstitious man, and will be hesitant in his counterattacks. And as to your question, Xicotencatl, Angry Turkey is a faithful commander. If I give an order, he will follow it, though there may be others in need of your skills. Does that answer your questions?"

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"I'm ready now," says Xicotencatl.

[BDEYE]

"As am I," says Mizton.

[souldoubt]

"Then we will make for the camp of this captain."

[MoxexPenNama]

You spend most of the morning readying yourselves. Just before midday, one of his advisors, an elderly man of the Eagle People, approaches you with a densely scribbled map.
"Tecuanitzin sends me with directions. Your path is due south through the Great Bowl, a flooded lowland swamp. Much of the Great Bowl is shallow enough to be navigable by foot, but Tecuani has ordered that you be given a canoe for the sake of speed. It will be half a day's portage, but worth the trouble once you reach the swamps.
"The area between here and the Great Bowl used to be inhabited by gangs of brigands and Heart Eaters, but by the efforts of Tecuanitzin, they have been pacified. To cross the Great Bowl at its narrowest point is a four-day journey, mostly across choked backwaters with a few more open spaces where the water becomes deep and there are small islands to camp on, although the country is wild and dangerous, and you would do well to be vigilant. Beyond the Great Bowl is a highland region, and past that, Angry Turkey's encampment. Have you any questions?"

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"Heart Eaters," says Xicotencatl, visibly concerned. "I'm surprised Tecuani didn't simply exterminate them. You never said anything about Heart Eaters before."

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli tenses at the mention of Heart Eaters, though his face remains stoic, and he waits for the elderly adviser to respond.

[MoxexPenNama]

"Ah, but he did," says the advisor, giving a brutal smile. "There was one in particular who called himself Owl Lord. Tecuani had him slaughtered like the coward he was, along with his entire crew. Only his daughter was spared. The rest were strangled like the cowards they were and thrown to the coyotes still choking on their last breaths."

[BDEYE]

Mizton shakes his head disapprovingly. If you're going to wipe out a community, don't spare the women and children. The women are just as dangerous as the men, and the children will grow up eventually.

Nothing to be done now. Except sleep with one eye open.

"I see now reason not to depart as soon as possible," Mizton says. "As the sun rises."

[MoxexPenNama]

You depart slightly after midday, lowered down the weedy face of the plateau in the canoe. Plunging through the treeline into the gloomy forest below, the boat falls in soft leaf litter, and the three of you heft your equipment and begin to trek southward, following the lead of a magnetite compass.
The land here is harsh and wild, filled with thick bush that requires clearing with machetes. Occasionally you find a few scattered bones, fragments of skulls or splintered femurs. The rustling of skinks among the loam and the forlorn cries of howler monkeys are the only interruptions to the quiet of the deep rainforest.
In the late afternoon, a light rain washes over the heavy tree cover, filtering down to you in pebble-sized droplets. Using your machetes, you cut a quick shelter of sticks and palm leaves and wait wet and close-mouthed for the rain to end. The showers bring a hot mist out of the black soil of the jungle floor, and you sweat as you walk, the land beginning to slope down and grow soggier.
At points you pass raised mounds of earth covered in ferns. In some places the dirt falls away to reveal old masonry, the remains of Artisan temples and palaces. Once you come across a giant stone head half-buried in the muck, pitted and grown over with lichens and moss.
Finally, the ground levels out and becomes boggy. Large stands of reeds poke out of pools of stagnant water, and after a time you come to a muddy peninsula beyond which walking is no longer possible. Setting the canoe down as dusk falls, you find yourself surrounded by the vast, overgrown expanse of the Great Bowl. Wearily, you light your torches and set about preparing camp. A small fire has been started before you notice something floating in the black water of the swamp--something pale and aimless bumping against a canebrake.
What do you do?

[BDEYE]

Mizton watches the shape silently, focused, relaxed but ready.

[souldoubt]

Hefting his machete, Itzcuintli cautiously moves a bit closer, trying to make out what it is.

[roll0]

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl takes out his dagger and stands next to Itzcuintli. He tries to make out what the thing is too.

[roll0]

[BDEYE]

Mizton looks a little more closely:

[roll0]

[MoxexPenNama]

Itzcuintli notices it first, scowling. The thing is a body, already stiff with rigor mortis and bloated with gases, floating face down in the swamp. The corpse was a young man, and its black hair floats free in the water among the shreds of his cloak. One hand is curled slightly, and you can see where each of his fingernails has been torn out.
Using his machete, Itzcuintli flips the body over, and a scent of decay arises that almost sickens you. Both the long man's hands and both his feet have had their nails torn out, leaving only billowing, bloodless flesh. Worse, both his eyes are empty sockets and his open mouth shows gums torn free of all teeth.
What do you do?

[S.K.U.M.M.]

I step back up to higher ground, close to the campfire. I yell to the others, "Forget it, guys. Let's get to higher ground. We don't want to be stuck in the swamp if something goes down."

I spot or listen for anything amiss:

Spot: [roll0]
Listen: [roll1]

[BDEYE]

Mizton stays where he is and takes a closer look at the body:

((In this order, stopping if attacked obviously-

Search: [roll0]
Heal: [roll1]
Knowledge: [roll2]
))

[MoxexPenNama]

Itzcuintli tilts his head, but hears nothing aside from the croaking of frogs and the occasional flop of fish. As Mizton crowds closer to the body, the stench hits him, and he grimaces, but keeps looking and nods. What do you all do?

[Check your mailbox, BDEYE.]

[souldoubt]

Using the flat of his machete, Itzcuintil attempts to push the body into some current that might draw it away from the camp. If that proves impossible, he suggests moving camp away from the decaying thing.

[BDEYE]

"He was strangled by human hands," Mizton says. "But his eyes and fingernails seem to have been torn out by an animal." He frowns. "No telling if this means man and beast were collaborating, or if whatever killed this one was somehow one and the same."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"Might be a crocodile," says Xicotencatl. "I wouldn't stand near the water if I were you."

[MoxexPenNama]

Itzcuintli pushes at the body with his machete and it floats lstiffly away from the shore before slowly sinking down in a welter of gas bubbles. What do you all do?

[BDEYE]

Mizton takes a deep breath to decompress.

"Best to get some sleep while we still can. We already knew the swamp was dangerous- nothing else to be done now."

[souldoubt]

"I will take first watch."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"I'll take second watch," says Xicotencatl. "Not like I'll get much sleep anyway tonight," he says under his breath.

[BDEYE]

"And I'll take third."
Mizton gets himself settled and closes his eyes.

[MoxexPenNama]

The first watch passes without incident. Itzcuintli rouses Xicotencatl and goes to sleep himself. Around the middle of Xicotencatl's watch, distant noises begin to filter across the marsh. At first, Xicotencatl thinks they're just figments of his exhausted brain, but as he shakes his head, they become clearer. The sound of a woman's voice, sobbing hysterically and crying for help. What do you do?

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Anybody in this swamp can fend for themselves, thinks Xicotencatl. I for one would leave her to the crocodiles. But my companions might get sentimental ideas in their heads if they heard this too. Xicotencatl tries to ignore the sounds, unless they get nearer, in which case he will throw a bunch of wood on the fire and wake the others.

[BDEYE]

Mizton sleeps peacefully.

[MoxexPenNama]

The night passes otherwise peacefully, and you awake early to a cold, damp morning. A thick layer of dew coats everything, you struggle to stoke the fire into something resembling warmth. You have only a little bit of dried venison and papaya to eat, and it sits poorly in you this morning. In the distant mist of the swamp, you can see series of islands rising out of the stagnant water. Most likely, you'll have to spend the night on one of them, a prospect that displeases you.
As the sun rises, you can see the shapes of caimans sunning themselves on the nearby shore. None are big enough to be threatening, although a few might be big enough to eat. What do you all do?

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl is totally out of place in the wilderness. He only really feels at home surrounded by the faceless masses of the largest cities. The talk of sorcerers only makes him feel less at ease.

"Let's get going, huh?" he says to his companions.

[souldoubt]

If food is truly in short supply, and unless somebody stops him, then Itzcuintli will attempt to scrounge up some food -- preferably by hunting since he's not that familiar with the local flora.

[roll0]

(Normally that would supply food for one person, but since we've already had a bit to eat, It's DM's call as to whether we can stretch it to satiate three.)

[MoxexPenNama]

Itzcuintli manages to spear two small caimans. Not a lordly feast for three men, but certainly enough to provide fresh meat for a few days. You easily have enough food to keep going, but it's mostly dried maize and tortillas, with a bit of deer jerky.
Around mid-morning you launch the canoe into the still waters of the Great Bowl. The cries of waterbirds echo across the marsh in raucous choruses, and timid young caimans peer above the surface with their beady eyes and knobby snouts. Looking down, you can almost always see the still, chocolate-colored mud of the swamp--a tangle of branches, weeds and mossy rocks. Sometimes, the wetland quiets so much that all you hear is the quiet dipping of paddles in the water. You take turns--two men rowing and one keeping lookout with a bow.
Moreso than the jungle proper, something about the Great Bowl unnerves you in ways difficult to pin down. The occasional, sudden silences perhaps, or the way that at points the bottom drops suddenly away into deep, opaque water; the crumbling stelae grown over with fungus or the broken statues staring up at you from the muck of the swamp.
In the late afternoon, as a semi-twilight descends over the marsh, you pass close to a bigger island, larger than the sodden hummocks of dead grass you paddled past earlier. It has trees on it, interspersed between ancient colonnades and the decaying walls of some kind of ancient building complex. What do you do?

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli points his paddle at the tumbling down columns and ruins of the islet.

"We could make camp here; it's dry, and defensible. But we'll want to take a look first to make sure the old stone house isn't haunted."

[BDEYE]

Mizton nods in agreement. "We have to camp somewhere. It deserves a look."

He attempts to land the canoe if the others cooperate, gets out, and approaches the building.

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"I for one think we should move on," says Xicotencatl. "We didn't have very good luck with the last ruins we ran across." He reconsiders, feeling extremely vulnerable in the totally alien realm of the natural world. "Although if you two are going to get out here, I guess I will too."

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli steps out of the canoe. "First let's scout out the area. I'll take the center. One of you circle to the left and the other to the right and we'll meet on the other side." He pauses, thinking. "And pick up any dry wood you find on the way. We'll need to find some before the light fails."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"I think we should stick together," says Xicotencatl. "I'm useless in the wilderness." He seems ashamed to admit this to his companions.

[MoxexPenNama]

Together you comb over the muddy, rocky island. The ruins here look as through they have been slowly sinking into the mud for centuries. Thickly overgrown with hanging moss, you almost can't make out any of the glyphs or bas-reliefs on the walls and broken stelae. Towards the northern end of the island, the ground grows drier, and you manage to find some passably inflammable wood and a clearing in the middle of a stand of willows that would make a reasonably dry camping ground.
The ruins are a squat, two-storey structure surrounded by the broken foundations of other buildings long ago claimed by the swamp. The upper storey has no roof--just a jagged collection of ramshackle walls and broken images of gods. Perhaps it was once the crown of an observatory.
As you gather in the lower storey, however, under the dripping stone ceiling, you notice something. A small, slick stairway, overhung with moss, leads down into what was once, perhaps, a basement. What do you do?

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli squints at the aperture leading down. "Not likely to be any dryer down there. Could be snakes. Maybe poisonous, maybe good to eat. Maybe both." He looks around at his companions. "We should probably have a look and make sure we're not camping on a vipers' nest. Who's coming with me?"

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"Yes, I suppose we should," says Xicotencatl, clearly not liking the idea. "Do we have any torches?"

[BDEYE]

Mizton nods in agreement and moves towards the stairs, happy to be the first down if nobody else stops him.

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli puts out an arm and stops Mizton long enough to take flint and a torch from his pack and light the torch using his tomahawk blade.

"Watch your feet," he says, and starts carefully down the steps. If Mizton goes ahead, he will hand the torch down to him.

(Moxex led me to believe that we should assume we have any odds and ends and necessities such as torches, rope, etc.)

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl lights a torch also. "I'd hate to think what we'd do if that one torch went out," he says sarcastically. He takes up the rear.

Random Spot checks:
[roll0]:
[roll1]:
[roll2]:

Random Listen checks:
[roll3]:
[roll4]:
[roll5]:

[souldoubt]

"We'd light another," Itzcuintli snaps at him. He readies his war machete and tomahawk and heads down the stairs.

[MoxexPenNama]

You descend the wet stairway, and the torchlight reveals a cramped passageway tapering into a false arch above you and faced with stone. The bottom five stairs are submerged, and you calculate that the water is probably waist-deep here, though you can't see the floor because of sediment in the water. The faintest remnants of murals adorn the walls, though they are so damaged by the wetness and mold that you can barely make out more than outlines. The tunnel seems to lead deeper into the center of the island. What do you do?

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"This ruin is obviously flooded," Xicotencatl says with certainty. "Further exploration will be useless. Let's go back."

[BDEYE]

Mixton nods. "I'm surprised to find all this here, but it has nothing to do with our mission. I agree- we should go back to the surface and rest while we have the opportunity."

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli nods. When they resurface, he begins looking for debris -- bits of sturdy wood too wet or green to burn, chunks of rock, etc. -- and attempt to build a barrier covering old passageway.

"To keep the snakes in."

Not sure what I need to roll for this so I'll roll all of the following: a Survival check and a Search check, whichever is more appropriate for gathering materials, and an untrained Craft check (basically an Int check).

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[MoxexPenNama]

You find enough sturdy branches that you manage to erect a relatively comprehensive barrier, though whether it will be enough to prevent snakes from emerging you don't know. Tying it off with vines, you have a serviceable cover. What do you do?

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl says: "Let's try to get some shut-eye and try to get off this rock first thing tomorrow morning. I will take first watch, if nobody has a problem with that."

Random Spot Checks:
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Random Listen Checks:
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli nods. "I'll take second watch then."

[roll0]
[roll1]

[BDEYE]

"Third for me, then."

Spot: [roll0]
Listen: [roll1]

[MoxexPenNama]

Shortly after Mizton's watch begins, a voice speaks somewhere nearby, quiet and shrill like a frightened child.
"Revered sir," it says. "Can you please help me?"
What do you do?

[BDEYE]

"Show yourself please. I cannot speak to you until I have seen your face."

He gently nudges the other members of the group.

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintil awakes with a snort, and lies still in the darkness wondering why he's been disturbed.

[MoxexPenNama]

"Please, revered sir," says the voice. "I'm scared."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl attempts to crawl into any concealment he can possibly think of (probably the brush around the camp).

Move Silently: [roll0]
Hide: [roll1]

Next, he tries to localize the source of the talking via a Listen check.

Listen: [roll2]

[MoxexPenNama]

From hiding, Xicotencatl notices that the noise seems to be coming from a stand of cypress trees half-submerged in the water.

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Initiative (if it comes to that):

[roll0]


Spot (Although I really doubt I'll be able to see anything in the dark:

[roll1]

[BDEYE]

Mizton speaks with perfect calm. Anyone watching would think he either didn't understand what the problem was, or was insane. One or the other.

"Is there a reason you can't come forward? Are you in danger?"

[MoxexPenNama]

Xicotencatl peers into the darkness, but sees nothing. The voice continues to speak:
"Revered sir," says the child's voice. "I'm standing here in the water, but a snake is coiled by my foot. If I move, it will surely bite me."

[BDEYE]

Mizton's eyes narrow.

((To see if the kid's lying- Sense Motive [roll0]

[MoxexPenNama]

(Mizton: Something seems very wrong about this. For one thing, it's late at night and it's cold--you've traveled enough to know this is not an active time for snakes. For another thing, the boy's voice seems a little too calm, too pitch-perfect. You begin to get the sense that you're listening not to a child's voice, but to a very practiced mimic's.)
"Please, revered sir," says the voice. "It's a yellowbeard. It's bite will kill me."

[BDEYE]

"I see," Mizton says. "If that is true, it is best that I not interfere. We will wait until the snake has departed. You can reveal yourself then."

He looks over his shoulder and shakes his head, signaling to his companions that something is very wrong here.

[MoxexPenNama]

"Please, revered sir! Please! It may be hours before it leaves, and I'm cold!" the voice shrieks.

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli hefts his war machete and tomahawk which he kept lying close at hand as he slept.

"Probably a ghost," he murmurs to his companions, but shows no fear; he's seen things worse than ghosts, and not the least of them in recent times.

[MoxexPenNama]

"Please revered sir," says the voice, slowly fading. You hear the bubbling of water and then silence. Warily, you go back to sleep. The Great Bowl becomes quiet. Then, at once, you are all roused by the noise of something shattering wood on the other side of the island, back by the ruins the stairs of which you boarded up. What do you do?

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli grabs his weapons, still close at hand.

"Follow me!" he cries and heads in the direction of the sound, hardly bothering to check if his companions are in fact following.

[S.K.U.M.M.]

I grab a burning branch from the firepit as a makeshift torch and follow Itzcuintli. FYI I have my torch in my left hand and my dagger held at ready in my right hand.

Initiative (just in case)
[roll0]

[BDEYE]

Mizton keeps to the shadows as he makes his way towards the sound.

Hide: [roll0]
Move Silently: [roll1]

[MoxexPenNama]

You arrive to find the makeshift wooden cover you created for the stairway torn off and shattered. Faint, muddy footprints lead down into the dark tunnel inside the island. Not a sound comes from below. What do you do?

[BDEYE]

Mizton sticks to the shadows. Let it make the first move, whatever it is.

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"We have two options, people," says Xicotencatl. "We can either wait this out and leave in the morning, or we can see what's down there. I for one would wait by the campfire all night, where we can defend ourselves with burning branches if need be. I don't want to go down there; it is not part of our job and whatever it is that was talking to us does not seem willing or able to attack us outright. Something down there might be, however. What do you all think?"

[MoxexPenNama]

You wait in dead silence. Eventually, after what feels like hours of waiting in the darkness, a voice speaks from deep in the pit.
"Now that you've caught me, what are you going to do with me?" it whimpers.

[BDEYE]

"I still don't know who I'm speaking with," Mizton says.

[MoxexPenNama]

"Just a lonely, lost, little boy," says the voice. "I've been lost in the swamp for so long, I can't even remember my name."

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl cares little for the lost little boy. He waits impatiently for it to be light enough to leave this island.

[MoxexPenNama]

"There are a lot of pretty things down here," says the voice. "If you'll help me out of here, I'll give you some of them."

[BDEYE]

Mizton looks over at Xicotencatl coldly.

"If you go down there you go alone," he says.

[souldoubt]

"Why do you even need help?" Itzcuintli asks, squinting into the dark opening suspiciously. "Climb out yourself. And if there's 'pretty things' down there, we're as free as anyone to go down there and take them if we want, once it's light out."

[MoxexPenNama]

"I can't leave this place. I need help. . ."
The speaker pauses briefly.
"Besides, to find the pretty things, you'd have to know where to look. . ."

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli looks to his comrades. "Evil spirit," he says.

[BDEYE]

"I agree," says Mizton. "Anyone who goes down there we should leave without."

[MoxexPenNama]

You hear a bubbling from deep in the underground chamber, and a loud splash, then everything goes quiet. The sun is beginning to rise over the eastern edge of the Great Bowl, and you find yourselves, worn-out and irritable. What do you do?

[S.K.U.M.M.]

"Let's get out of here," says Xicotencatl. "And not camp on any islands housing ruins."

[BDEYE]

Mizton rubs his eyes wearily. "Yes. Let's depart."

[souldoubt]

Itzcuintli nods sober agreement, pawing at his strained eyes with one hand.

[MoxexPenNama]

Today's travel is the roughest so far. As the Great Bowl becomes shallower, you find yourself catching on snags and half-sunk stelae. Large caimans swim between cypress trees. You find yourselves rowing half-awake, just pushing on to find the next dry piece of land where you can camp. Maybe that's why you don't notice it sooner.
An overwhelming stink hangs in the air here, and that's when something bumps the canoe. At first you think it might be another snag, but it gives too easily. You float in a small lagoon. Human corpses crowd it as thick as lily pads, some fresh, some badly decayed, but all missing their eyes, teeth, and fingernails. They choke this area among a circle of boulders that may be half-sunk buildings. Disgusted or weary, you begin to paddle your way out, but then you realize your canoe isn't moving. In fact, something has taken a firm hold of Mizton's paddle from under the water. What do you do?

[BDEYE]

Mizton quietly curses and shakes the paddle. He looks around, trying to make sure nothing coming out of the water can catch him by surprise.

[souldoubt]

Nearly on the cusp of some frenzy, his nostrils filled with the stench of death, Itzcuintli drops his paddle in the bottom of the canoe, grabbing his warglaive to hack blindly into the dark water at whatever is holding Mizton's paddle. (Obviously if this initiates combat, Itzcuintli takes this action at whatever point he comes out in the initiative order.)

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Xicotencatl looks around to see if he can spot any pieces of dry land, or even if he can find a tree sticking out of the water that he can climb onto.

Spot: [roll0]
Initiative (if needed): [roll1]

[MoxexPenNama]

The paddle suddenly loosens, flying back into the boat, and a large, dark shape momentarily breaches the corpse-strewn surface. In the ripples, you can see it swimming straight for the boat. Mizton, roll initiative.

(Xicotencatl, you see a hanging tree on the cliff above you. You might be able to shimmy up it with successful climb and jump checks.)

[BDEYE]

The moment that the threat is recognized, Mizton's knife is in his hand and he is slashing away.

((Initiative: [roll0]

Full attack:
Attack 1: [roll1]
Damage 1: [roll2]
Crit Conf (19-20 range): [roll3]
Crit damage: [roll4]

Attack 2: [roll5]
Damage 2: [roll6]
Crit Conf (19-20 range): [roll7]
Crit damage: [roll8]))

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Eh. I'll wait for my initiative order, whenever that happens to be, before I decide what to do.

[MoxexPenNama]

Initiative for the Beast:[roll0]

[S.K.U.M.M.]

I wait for it to get close enough, then thrust my dagger at the thing.

((Rules lawyer talk: because I have a higher initiative than the monster, it is considered flat-footed; it does not get Dex of active bonus to defense. Plus, I can use sneak attack against it.))

Attack: [roll0]
Crit: [roll1]
Damage: [d4]
Crit damage: [d4]
Sneak Attack: [3d6]

[S.K.U.M.M.]

Let's try this again:

Damage: [roll0]
Sneak Attack Damage: [roll1]