Content note: Sex, Gore, Slavery, Torture; Def. R Rated
They awoke chilled. A cool wind blew across the purple Sands. White caps could be seen just a short distance from shore. Jonas hug himself and tried to warm up. His clothes have been filled with holes and his tunic ruined when he was struck by the piercer only a day before. He marveled at this lately Violet stained skin, where his allies prayers had mended his tissue. And then looks down at his hand. One, two, Three, Four... His middle finger was gone. A stump of purplish scarred flesh set just above the knuckle. The spells of the priests closed the bloody wound, but I could not regrow the lost digit.
"Will you be all right?" That was the loud and hardy voice of Holden. The ginger-haired priest agree to the sun with prayer. Praising his goddess for hiding the stars that none may fully know their fate.
"I am grateful to you. And your goddess. Better my finger than my life from what I understand, I have fate to thank for not turning me inside out yesterday."
"This is a good and wise way to think of things my friend." That was Koral, their Sherpa. "On this Isle, to mourn is a gift and a luxury. When we get to Broken Cliff settlement, I will show you how to move on in the way of an Islander. But, for now we must be strong for we have many days of travel."
Jonas fished through his backpack. Of all of them, he was the one with spare clothing. He got the feeling it would all be rags before all was said and done.
"How far to this... settlement?" That was Tarrant. He smoking a pinched nasal voice of a western aristocrat. His god, the god of retribution and order; it had to be difficult for him to go to pirates for help.
"From here? Perhaps thirty miles. No, my friend, do -- not smile. For us this is nearly a week's journey. The jungle clings at your legs and boots and hides your path. The beaches wind and curl. And we must walk through the barbed grass when the tide is high. You are not properly prepared for the jungle, and so the coast will be our path. You cannot get lost if you follow it."
Jonas was surprised when Mord handed him a bundle. You ruined your cloak back there. This should do you better. In the man's arms was a set of robes, high collared in yellow and red. The last he saw them was on the willow Sorcerer Golmore, before Neela killed him.
"I'm not sure..." he cast a glance at Neela.
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| "Neela Expresses Herself" Made w/ Hero Forge, used in accordance w/ their EUKA |
Mord's big blue eyes glittered. "She's no cherry blossom. If you spend your time worrying about the delicate sensibilities of women, you will wind up a bigger ass than the ones who don't care at all. You should be so lucky as to have a woman like that want you to take off what you are wearing."
Neela, feeling eyes upon her, made a crass gesture in Mord's direction.
"No, never mind, I'm wrong. Never has there been a more delicate flower."
Jonas chuckled, and then pulled the robe on.
When they struck out an hour later, Neela took the time to place a hand on Jonas' shoulder. "It looks better on you."
The purple sands were easy terrain, but Kravian's souther shore was jagged, full of inlets and places where blades of obsidian jutted up, creating patches where a misstep could cut tissue. They kept the jungle to their left. It reeked of meat, rotting vegetation, and flowers. It's leaves a tempest of violet, green, and ashen grey. Everyone could feel eyes upon them from there. Expectant. Questioning. Each of them felt the question in their head:
Are you the one?
Not none of them dared speak of it.
After a few hours, they crested a violet dune and caught sight of something in the sky that made them all gape in wonder.
It's purple flesh could only be glimpsed on occasion, emerging from a cloud of greasy indigo fog that swirled and twisted around it, heedless of wind or gravity. Tentacles, massive amber eyes, open sucking mouth all could be glimpsed. Although it was far off, they could tell it was impossibly huge as it's tentacles occasionally lashed downward, seized an animal, and crammed it into a waiting mouth. None could imagine something so large living.
"Is that...?" Jonas paused, not sure if he should name it.
"It is that which rots from the sky." Korl said, making a warding gesture of a crooked finger against the middle of his forehead. "It devours those who are unwary of it. It is far off now, and heading out to sea to prey on dolphins. But of you can see it, then you must always look for cover should it turn your way."
The sun was behind them as they crested high sand dunes. There had been, for awhile now, a feeling at the back of all their necks they could not explain. Even by the vile creature floating over the horizon. It was Jonas' handcart that hit the trap first. A bright, sheer metallic sound, like a steel drum clashed as sand exploded upward. It was answered by two more beats as, distracted, Holden and Tarrant stepped on two more.
They played a loud, cheerful tune as they staggered about in suprise, a man an a woman came over the rise. They wore tattered clothing, and bore long brass rods tipped with glowing crystals. They, and the party froze for a second, considering each other, and then a third figure flickered into view. It looked like an ornately dressed man, but too tall by half, and with. Bulbous head. The strange new apparition was entirely aquamarine in color, save its milky white eyes. It had no more substance than smoke; they could see the jungle and sky through it.
Behind the Screen: In this sette, a random roll is made for a trap when the PCs enter a new Hex. This "Early Warning System" Trap vastly changes the dynamics of the set encounter on the Hex.
"What are you waiting for?" The entity snarled. "Kill tbem."
The two humans, eyes wide with terror rushed forward. As the former prisoners grabbed for their weapons, the translucent man shouted at them. "I will not allow you to interfere with the Work." it raised a finger to his temple.
A shock tore through the group. Tarrant felt his flesh burning and freezing all at once, and collapsed into the fetal position. Korl howled and clutched at his eyes. Neela and Jonas staggered and caught each other, finding their feet. But Mord and Holden... Both stood with gritted teeth and bulging eyes. Knuckles white in a panicked fury.
The small balding man drove the glowing end of his staff into Tarrant side. Where it touched, Space twisted and bent. It was like looking through a molten prism. And where the distortion touched Tarrant's armor and flesh, they twisted and tore., then pulled away in a funnel of bloody tissue and metal. The woman thrust at Holden, whose sudden, jerky parry sent her flying backward, twisting a burr in the middle of his shield.
Holden twisted and brought his sword down on the little man, with a fury he'd never known. Something in his mind had shut down to take the pain away with it. All he saw was red. The blade bit into the man's hip and drove him to the ground.
Mord launched himself, frothing, at the glowing blue figure. The entity's face fell in alarm. Clearly this side effect of its attack was not expected. It didn't flinch, however; it did not expect the blade to bite... Not until Scarlett connected. Then the alarm turned to terror as the being exploded into a cloud of blue motes.
And then the pain was gone, and sanity slowly restored itself.
Behind the Screen: Mord and Holden both scored Nat. 20s on saves. I decided to give them a mild (+2) bonus to attacks., and describe it as being the result of a frenzy.
"Mercy! Gods give me mercy!" the man cried.
"Talk quickly" Holden fumed as he leveled his sword at the man's eyes.
"Please, the Athumn made us do it! If we disobey they torture us. They cannot be touched, but they can burn you with their mind,"
Whimpering, Tarrant pulled a shaking hand down to his wound and prayed. Slowly the blood-filled hole on his side just seemed to evaporate, leaving behind new, healthy flesh.
The man let out a cry. "The favor of the gods! Perhaps you were sent to answer my prayers. The Athumn hold more captives over the ridge. The are making us create - something - with these 'gravity rods.' They rail 'bout ideas I cannot understand, like 'event horizon' and 'singularity,' but I believe it to be a danger to everyone on these islands."
"Then, why Serve them?" asked Tarrant in a poisonous tone.
"They torture us, Holy One! Day and night they torture us with visions and pain. The only time we get relief is when we do as they command. They cannot touch our world. And... until now, I thought nothing could touch them, either. They need human hands to perform their 'experiments.'"
"You are impressed by the touch of my God."
"Yes, Holy One. It is as if they have decided to show it to me all at once."
"And will you swear by them, and your life that you are being truthful?"
"I swear!"
"They are just another group of witches that think themselves beyond reach then. And, as always, I shall teach them the error of their ways. If you will help, Mord."
The beggar-turned-warrior grunted his assent. He was already watching things unfold beyond the dune. he certainly did not like how they had been welcomed. That panic and fury still howled in his hind-brain, looking for something to lash out at.
Mord shrugged out of his mail coat and tossed it on the handcart, and passed his crossbow to Korl.
"I need to move fast. If those two move," he told the Sherpa, waving at the attackers, "Shoot them in the legs."
From the top of the dune they could see a bizarre sight: a row of translucent aquamarine aliens watched on as four tearful slaves worked to bellowed instructions. They used the glowing wands to twist a mote of blackness in space. Twin whirlwinds emerged from its top and bottom; the lower was quickly filling with purple sand. Around them the sands crackled with electricity. A strong breeze was suddenly blowing at their backs, rather than from the Ocean to their right.
Tarrant threw a questioning look at Jonas, who shook his head; the reputation of magicians as fountains of lore was hardly accurate with him.
Another voice suddenly echoed through their minds.
"Do not interfere! This experiment must be completed."
It was tinted with mild pain, and Mord's gorge rose.
"Jonas?"
He nodded and shouted an ancient incantation. Suddenly, three of the four slaves collapsed, the light at the end of their rods went out.
Tarrant placed a hand on Mord and offered a warriors benediction that was intended to prevent the mind from intrusion.
Mord launched himself forward with a demonic howl. The voice of his sword, Scarlett joined him. He kept like a wild cat and slashed at the Athumn one after another reducing them to sparks. Scarlett screamed in orgiastic pleasure. More! More! Oh, bloodless! I need more!" Shocks of sensual pleasure surged into Mord, even as the alien minds tried to flood him with pain and Terror. In his crimson haze he turned and cut down the last standing slave to the orgasmic shriek of Scarlett.
The remaining Athumn faded out of sight rather than face Mord and his blade. He stood huffing and puffing, the red blade dripping. And watched as the vortex weakened, flickered, and vanished, creating a rain of violet sand.
Three women in scant tattered clothing lay scattered on the ground around the bloody remains of the man he'd cut down. Scarlett let out a husky whisper, and Mord's body ached. His companions stood a few paces away looking on as he struggled with some inner demons. He wiped the blade on a rag made of Jonas' old clothes and them sheathed her.
"You've enough." he told the sword.
He walked over to the strand, dropped to his hands and knees, and plunged his head into the chilly ocean
"Why this one? " Taggart asked kneeling over the corpse.
"I needed to be sure the ritual was over."
The witch-finder watched Mord through hunting eyes for a moment, and then turned to the slave and performed the last rites of the Common Prayer.
Behind the Screen: "Meet the Athumns" is a great example of the kind of over-the-top encounters that are peppered throughout The Islands of Purple-Haunted Putrescence. If the PCs didn't get involved, the world would have been destroyed in a few hours.
In the evening, after the dead man was buried in the purple sand, they made a camp in a thicket of violet-leaved banyans. The Athumn had made their slaves carry food and a tarpaulin that could be lashed to branches and form a tent.
As they ate, they learned the names and heard the stories of the slaves.
The scrawny, bald-pated man introduced himself as Jamart: an Alchemist from the shining lands who had hoped to win fame by cataloging in new medicinal herbs and substances on the Purple Islands, but ended up falling afoul of the Athumn while camping in the jungle.
Dark-skinned and broad-shouldered Wene had been a cook on an Amazon ship that had wrecked on Kelis. She had been traded several times since she washed ashore. She was a good cook, but too willful to ever be a good slave.
Alil, plump and brassy, claimed to be a princess of a tiny province of the Western lands, stolen by a Sorcerer for the power of her divine blood. They were all sure the story would get better as they went on.
Bespectacled and mousy Benne was from the Southern Magrocracies, banished to the Islands by a corrupt noble who made a fortune selling women of low station to local cults instead of delivering them to the penal colonies.
Beautiful red-haired Sarra did not want to tell her story, save to say "I rejected the wrong man. " Later in the evening she sang beautifully, relaxing the weary hearts around her.
Neela made sure each was permitted to keep their wands, and that everyone knew that no one was a slave in the camp. Most, exhausted, slept well, but some among them quietly schemed as they watch the fire through heavy eyes.
Behind the Screen: I created all of the slaves using the random NPC generator on DonJon, I chose who fought by rolling randomly and made saves down the lust in order. That the only other male slave was slain was a coincidence. Which is a pity, he was a hunter.
Benne crept from her place softly on all fours, keeping a careful not to stir attrct Neela's eye as she watched the sea in the moonlight through the trees. In the dim of the embers she could see her target. The fine leather pack with all the straps and buckles. The one with the books that the skinny man had been studying.
Carefully, Carefully...
She reached and placed a hand to his side, careful not to wake the slumbering pilgrim beside him.
The fire cracked and she jumped, her heat pounding. Benne's balance went out below her, toppling sideways she landed on Jonas. He gasped, his oversized eyes flew open.
Her heart smashed against her ribcage. As he started to ask "What are you-"
She put a finger on his lips, thinking fast. She straddled him, biting her lip, then leaned in for a kiss. Thinking of an old lover, she quietly whispered something sweet and pointless in his ear. She had learned in her time on the Purple Islands how to tell a man what he wanted to hear.
Neela only noticed the would-be thief when she and Jonas began moving together in the firelight. She sighed and returned to watch, trying to filter out the sound of their lovemaking.
Life was complicated enough without having lives to protect and the moral hazard softly sighing behind her back...
Behind the Screen: I used the Dungeon Crawl Solo oracle to determine whether any of the slaves are treacherous. They all are. I also rolled to see if they were dumb enough to try to carry out an agenda that I derived from their DonJon-given backstory. Benne, as a hedge-witch wants to steal Spellbook and won't wait. When she botched her attempt to steal l, I gave her a chance to trick Jonas into thinking she had climbed over him for... Different reasons...
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