Episodes #1 and #2 : Waking Up

It began with Elody, Gruff, Bartholomew, and Edrathior waking on a slick, but relatively flat rock as a female voice spoke sharply, "You must wake up!"

Battered from a shipwreck they could barely remember, they found they had been deposited somehow at the end of a jetty thrust out from a beach. It was early morning, in the dimness of early dawn, and the nearby waves were choppy and shot through with dorsal fins. Rising, they made their way to the beach, contending with aggressive sharks and even the thrown spear of some sort of scarred or war-painted native (the former were mostly avoided and the latter soon fled). An old wall of worked stone divided the jungle and vanished into the sea.

Soon they spotted a massive reptilian beast marching through the nearby jungle, though it made no aggressive moves toward them. They even spotted some sort of little monkey-raccoon creature they'd never heard of before, and it even seemed to warn them about the jungle on one side of the wall.

There was no clear evidence of the ship they'd sailed on, the Manticore, no indication that it had even wrecked at all. Were there any other survivors? How had they made it to this jetty relatively unscathed? Sure, they had only their favorite weapons and no gear to speak of, but even so, it seemed a coincidence to be precisely here. Wherever here was. Was this the island they'd spotted just before the storm hit?

As Gruff fortified a base camp, the other spotted another castaway further down the beach to the east. It was a half-orc named Gregor, who they'd soon learn had sailed aboard the White Countess out from Ierendi.

Diary of Pancratist Gregorius Half-Orc the Cenobite

First Day on the Isle

I awoke on a boulder just off the south shore. My first sight was of a giant stone warrior’s helmed face glaring at me. That is to say, the rock jutting before me was carved into the shape of a helmed warrior’s head. The helm’s eye-slits seemed to recede deep into the rock, like symmetrical tunnels or caverns. I decided to investigate. It was a short jump across, but I was immediately repulsed by the stench issuing from those eyes, as if the slaughterhouse had taken up with the powdermill and this were their baby. Changing my mind, I jumped down into the water to swim to shore. 

Just then I saw three figures on the beach, shouting and pointing out to sea. I looked over my shoulder: A shark fin split the waves. It was far away; I wasn’t worried and got back to swimming. The party on the sand grew louder. Splashing ashore, I looked back again. Not far behind, quicker than it had any right to, came a dweller from that stone helm. It looked as bad as it smelled, like a waterlogged hermit corpse, teeth and nails grown into fangs and claws. The figures on the beach were sprinting toward me now, allegedly to aid me; I could make out a halfling, a cloaked eladrin, and a tall figure all in cheery yellow, struggling to keep up under some sixty pounds of mail.

I knew the creature would catch up soon enough, and saw no reason to dawdle. I pivoted about and punched the corpse-thing square in the jaw, following with a short sharp kick to the floating ribs. We traded blows while the party on the beach hurried to catch up. The creature, being undead, was tougher than it looked. Its teeth and claws deadened the nerves wherever they struck, leaving us all but helpless to retaliate. Worse was the smell, the kind of stench to drive the breath from your lungs and the strength from your limbs. For a second there, the creature got the better of me, biting down hard and drawing blood. That was where things got hazy. I admit, I thought I was dying...when some unseen force yanked me to my feet and filled my body with new life.

The party on the beach jumped into the fight. The halfling seemed keen on getting himself a kidney; I hadn’t the heart to tell him it was already smeared across my foot. Regardless, he did well for himself. The eladrin threw globes of acid at the beast, though more seemed to strike the rocks than his target. Eventually, the tall yellow one, a half-orc like myself, joined the melee. Slowly but surely, the tide turned. When the corpse realized it was outnumbered, it scampered up the side of the rock. I leapt atop the stone head to cut off its escape. Before the corpse could get any further, the other half-orc threw a spear of holy light straight through its heart. It dropped without a sound into the rising tide.

First we made sure the thing was dead, and then we made our introductions. My new companions had all sailed on the Manticore together, undertaking the same quest as I. They shipwrecked here shortly before I awoke, just a short ways west of where I landed. They say they were investigating a section of ruined wall stretching into the jungle when they saw me and came to help.

The halfling calls himself Bartholomew and dresses like a broadsheet housebreaker. He got right down to business, pulled an evil-looking black orb out of the creature's eye socket and pocketed it. Nobody seemed to know what the orb was or what it did, but that didn’t deter him. He’s welcome to it.

My fellow half-orc introduced herself as Elody. She said she was a cleric for the goddess Avandra, leading me to think she—or the divinity she serves—was the one to heal me during that fight. Seeing my robes and my tonsure, she clearly knew I was a monk, and said she herself had received some training in the abbey. I didn’t get a chance to ask which one. She said she’d lost her hat in the shipwreck. She seemed upset about it.

The eladrin, an effeminate looking type, introduced himself as Edrathior with some fanfare. Everyone calls him Edra or Ed. He explained that he was not a wizard, nor a warlock, but a sorcerer. He also explained at the first chance, and every chance thereafter, that if he ever stubbed his toe, banged his knee, fumbled his weapon, or otherwise made a clown of himself, a magical force would seize everyone around him and toss them to the ground. I don’t know that I believe him, but I won’t be walking next to him.

They also told me of their friend Gruff—he being a shifter, a ranger, and an archer. They said he was to the northwest, preparing a camp for them and any other survivors they found. They joked he might have to build a new wing before the day was out.

While the undead thing at our feet was no threat, we were concerned there might be more of its kind hiding in the giant stone head. After a short rest, we started planning how to evaluate and deal with the threat. We decided that the best course was to climb over the top of the head, and lower ourselves down to the eyes, but for that we would need ropes of some kind. We decided to gather vines from the jungle to use as rope. My new companions stated their friend Gruff would be able to make ropes from vine easily.

As we approached, a massive, long-necked, reptilian behemoth thrust its head above the treetops nearby. My new companions told me it was strictly an herbivore. I wanted to ask, “How do you know that?” but decided to keep quiet until we were out of the jungle. We went slowly north searching for strong-looking vines. Just then, a small humanoid creature, like a monkey, or a raccoon, and yet like a man as well, gestured to us from the underbrush, as if beckoning for help. It pointed off to the east, spoke something akin to Elvish in a shrill voice, and then vanished as quickly as he had appeared. My companions seemed immediately inclined to follow. 

I wanted to know why we should trust this creature. Ed explained that shortly after he had landed, a scarcely-clad savage—a human native of this island?—had emerged from the jungle, thrown a javelin at him, and then run away. This little monkey man was the first thing on the island that hadn’t tried to kill him, so Ed was inclined to trust him. While planning our next move, we saw a plume of smoke rising somewhere to the east. We all suspected this had some connection with the monkey man’s request, and thought it worth checking out. We decided to head back to Gruff’s camp and get his help before continuing.