Damian nodded in agreement and ran towards Daxos, intending to aid him but as he stepped forward to lift the man up but as Daxos brought the man towards the shelter, he realized he did not require aid. Walking towards the man, he lifted his hands up in a peaceful gesture. He spoke softly but urgently:

"I have no desire to kill you. My name is Damian. Let us bring her inside and we shall see what we can do for her.".

(Assuming he's peaceful)

Damian quickly checks to see she's alive but regardless, he attempts to lift her body and drag her into the enclosure if he cannot. Assuming she is alive, Damian would quickly check to see where her focus is/ component pouch and take that away from her. Sweaty from the work, he wipes his brow and inquires towards the cleric:

"Does someone have a healing spell? We'll also have to replenish the water. Are you able to do so Father Tolly? I may be able to aid you.. I have apparently been blessed with magic.".

(OOC: Tries to parley with the axeman, bring the woman inside and heal her.)

The night howled all around the old ship. Its timbers creaked and popped, remembering a long-forgotten memory of the sea, but still held fast against the rain as they had for nearly a century. Lightning popped all around. Wind tried to whip acid into every corner, but the center of the pavilion was safe and dry.

There a campfire had been struck, using the scant branches Geoff and Jacob had collected. The smoke mixed with the acid in the air; the smell produced wasn't a pleasant one, but it provided light and warmth for the little party. Close to the fire were several figures who should, by all rights, have died that day. Ylena the sorceress was curled close to the warmth, her head in her husband's lap. It had been but small effort to gain his trust when Garrat and Tolly emerged from their hiding places and revived his wife.

Matzan stroked his wife's hair and told the story that these seven had ended only hours ago.

"We are what you call the Feral. Our grandpas' dads got killed in the first big rain, but the gods thought it was a good idea leave the kids alone. Lots of us tried getting new places in the big cities. Some even did, but most didn't. Us that live now, we live because our dads and grandpas learned to live off the poison rocks. Still we aren't doing so great though. Mostly its scrape together one meal after another, dodge raindrops, do it again. Ylena, well we followed Kaydn because she promised us a better life. All we had to do was steal a few clerics and after the delievery we'd be on our way, all set to raise a family in a place away from all this."

His anger flared and he clenched empty fists. "You all ruined that. Yes, we broke Pike. Other places too. But now none of us are better off. Kaydn is dead, Tristiran and Misah are dead. So's Brindan. Why didn't you kill me and Ylena too? Everything is lost for us now."

The storm punctuated his speech. There was a pause, and suddenly he sat straight up. "You could come with us! You've got priests and kits. Kaydn said it was only a day or two from here to Archumbra. From there we're supposed to join up with some others and make for the Northlands. Kaydn says they still have stars up there. We could all live like kings and get fat, what do you say?"

Daxos listened to Matzan speak and felt sorrow for those they had killed. It seemed unavoidable, yet there were so few people left that killing any felt like such a waste. Still, that was exactly what was wrong with Matzan's words. When the man had finished speaking, Daxos couldn't help but add his thoughts to the mix.

"Matzan, I am pleased that you and your wife were able to survive. There has been too much killing. But death is exactly what we are hoping to prevent - not just ours and yours, but the lives of the people of Pike are worthy as well. By stealing their clerics and destroying their water, you condemn them to death. We would see them live, just as you live. We cannot abandon Pike."

"Still, we would also not abandon you. There are too few people to throw anyone away - you, Pike or us. Perhaps you can find a home in Pike. Certainly it must be better than living as a Feral." He paused, and glanced at the others in the group before speaking again. "Our task is to save Pike from the difficulties your group has put them in. That must come first and any information you can offer on the priests that were taken will be appreciated." He looked carefully at the man as he continued. "But what was are to do after we bring water to Pike is undetermined. Tell us more about what Kaydn told you. What and where is Archumbra? Who were you to join up with? What is supposed to be in the Northland?"

Again, Daxos glanced around at his companions. "I cannot speak for these others, but I will not abandon the cities. We must all stick together. But if there is a sanctuary to the North, both cityborn and Feral could benefit. All could benefit. I would see you able to raise a family in prosperity if I could. Tell us what you know."

(OOC: If Dax should know about Archumbra, just ignore that line.)

Clary sat alittle further back from the fire, Silinrul's fur keeping her warmer against the cold winds. Her eyes unfocused as she ran her fingers through his fur absentmindedly. She could vaguely hear the others talking, she didn't care about the axe man. She didn't care about the water that was now lost, all the woman cared about was how she had survived, she'd died hadn't she?

Silinrul however, kept a closer eye on his human-wolf, not letting her out of his sight, bumping her slightly with his nose he huffed alittle then stared up at her as she turned her unfocused gaze down, her words muffled, mumbled but the wolf would still pick them out,

"I died, Did I not?" Confusion laced in her voice as the wolf as she knew would not, could not, answer her. She refused to request the information from the others of the party, not completely trusting them. However though, she vaguely saw someone that looked familiar and Silinrul seemed at ease with only him.

Looking at her hands, still gripping her bow so tightly her knuckles were white, she frowned as she murmured again quietly.

Damian listened to Matzan intently but every so often, he would stop listening, his gaze on their scarred faces. He couldn't help but think that that was what he looked like now. Would other people assume that he was a Feral? He pulled himself out of these thoughts, trying to pay attention to hear from the man

"You all ruined that. Yes, we broke Pike. Other places too.".

Damian clutched his quarterstaff, his knuckles going white from the pressure. Intense rage fueled within him and he an image of himself beating him with his staff. But.. As much as he wanted to avenge Pike, he knew these people weren't evil. They just needed to survive.

He frowned, A place for a better life. Heading North? Then a thought crept up inside of him. These people were taking clerics.. Perhaps they took Mother Tobs?

Opening his mouth he said:

"I agree with Daxos. We cannot abandon Pike.". He paused for a short second, narrowing his eyes at the man and looking for any sign of deceit. "Have you seen a cleric woman. Name's Mother Tobs. She would've been rather short. Brownish hair that went to her shoulders, in her late 40's?".

Xana turned to examine the cuticles of her nails as the scarred axman droned on and on and on and on... A quick healing of the hideous woman he loved and his mouth just flapped without end. There was no need for interrogation nor twists of intrigue and manipulation. They hadn't even needed a magical charm to sweeten his tongue. Matzan was simply grateful and cooperative now. IT WAS SO BORING.

The fey woman had fantasies of torturing him with silent visions of a myriad ugly deaths to be visited on his beloved if he didn't talk. Or compulsions to make him betray himself and those he loved. Sowing seeds of poison had been favorite past times that the dark faery rarely enjoyed since her imprisonment amongst the mortals. Decades of self-denial had left her ill content and sadistically imaginative, a decidedly dangerous combination.

"We are what you call the Feral. Our grandpas' dads got killed in the first big rain, but the Gods thought it was a good idea to leave the kids alone..." Matzan droned on and on, stroking the hair of the wretched woman who slept in his lap. "...well we followed Kadyn because she promised us a better life..."

Bored

"...all set to raise a family in a place away from all this..."

BORED

"...You all ruined that. Yes, we broke Pike. Other places too, but now none of us are better off. Kaydn is dead. Tristiran and Misah are dead, so's Brindan. Why didn't you kill me and Ylena too? Everything is lost for us now."

BORED BORED BORED

Every whimper and whine brought Xana one step closer to fulfilling his wish for death. It might leave them without answers, but a few screams would be a welcome end to the endless, self-pitying droll. She didn't care about the plight of the Ferals or even the death of Pike. All that concerned her was a return to Faerie, and if that was denied her at least some distraction to ease that loss. And yet she had to stay her hand, survival required cooperation and humanity, and above all banality.

The roar of the nocturnal tempest seemed to echo her thoughts as it reminded them all of its rule in this nightmare world. She'd kill to see a flower.

Matzan paused his pontification and then continued on with a fire in his eyes, "You could come with us! You've got priests and kits. Kadyn said it was only a day or two from here to Archumbra. From there we're supposed to join up with some others and make for the Northlands. Kaydn says they still have STARS up there. We could all live like kings and get fat! What do you say?

Stars. Are there stars? It can't be. Can it?

A light long dimmed awoke in her yellow eyes at the mention of starlight. Xana hungered for starlight right to the very core of her being. If there were stars there might be passage beyond this hell world of acid rain. Could there be a way out?

The others jumped in with questions of their own, yet all held their allegiance to the cities. In this world they had forgotten how to dream and desire. All they knew was to huddle together and survive. But perilous though the stars might be, they were dreams and Xana remembered them. She remembered their wonder and it called her home.

Listening to the questions asked, Xana smiled with a new hope. There might yet find the answers sought hidden in Matzan's words. For now, she would listen and be silent. For now.

Jacob looked up as the conversation passed him by. He didn't know if the man was telling the truth, but he doubted it. Unsubstantiated rumor, most likely. Still something to keep in the back of his head. Especially after the 'steal a few clerics' line.

When an opening presented itself, Jacob spoke. "I agree we need to investigate. Pike needs its clerics if its going to survive though. I wonder, though, will it be safe to leave them there, if there are Feral roaming around taking them? Perhaps we should see how Father Tolly and the others feel?"

The whole thing was starting to worry him the more he thought about it. Jacob had traveled farther on his own than most people dared to. Why hadn't he heard of this?

Having said his piece, Jacob turned to Clary, still keeping an eye on the wolf. He'd heard her murmuring to it, confused. He'd needed to talk to her again anyway, and that was as good an opening as any.

"Not quite dead, Clary. But very nearly," he told her, speaking a bit softer so as not to involve the whole group. "We were lucky in that I was able to get to you in time to heal you, with a bit of power gifted from Lord Grum." Jacob nodded at the wolf next to her. "I might not have made it in time if you hadn't been so well protected.

"That said, your wounds aren't fully healed. I wasn't able to use enough power. If you'll allow it, I have some herbs that will help you along."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"- very nearly -" Clary was brought out of her musings slightly before she slipped back in before Silinrul nudged her softly causing her to jump and look up, eyes unfocused. She barely caught what he said at the end, " - Help you along." Clary blinked slowly before tilting her head, her voice still soft but a little louder but still slightly muffled by Silinrul's fur,

"W- What?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacob looked a bit more intently at her. She seemed to be in shock. "You almost died, Clary. Your wolf protected you long enough for me to get to you. But you still aren't fully healed. I can help you with that, if you like. It'll heal on its own, but slower."

Clary eyed the man before her, trying to actually listen to his words,

"You almost died, Clary. Your wolf protected you long enough for me to get to you. But you still aren't fully healed. I can help you with that, if you like. It'll heal on its own, but slower." She blinked once more then turned to Silinrul, as if looking for answers. Instead of answering him, she instead asked a question of her own,

"W- Why did you help me?" His answer seemed to shock Clary,

"Because you were hurt.." It was clear she didn't understand what he meant but shrugged slightly, looking at Silinrul's black fur,

"Will I die, if they aren't treated?" Jacob shook his head gently.

"Not at all, though you might be in some pain until its finished." Clary nods then eyes Silinrul for a moment before turning back to Jacob,

"Silinrul trusts you, but as of now.. I cannot extend that trust to somebody I don't know. I'm sorry."

It was clear none of these city-folk knew what it meant to be Feral. The little one, Daxos, suggested joining up with Pike to make one-big-happy-family. "Certainly it must be better than living as a Feral." Rage flared in Matzan's eyes. He scowled at Daxos, his ruined face a mask of pain.

"Do you think we choose to be Feral? That we can just move on in to any old town we like? 'Come on in Matzan, we've got a little house all picked out for you and Ylena.' Peh. Most of us can't even get past the gate. We do just fine on our own.

Daxos resumed, his empty pause having been filled, though perhaps not in the way he expected. "Our task is to save Pike from the difficulties your group has put them in. That must come first and any information you can offer on the priests that were taken will be appreciated. But what was are to do after we bring water to Pike is undetermined. Tell us more about what Kaydn told you. What and where is Archumbra? Who were you to join up with? What is supposed to be in the Northland?"

Matzan glanced to the dirty ground beside the fire. "Archumbra's the big meetup place north of here. Dunno, never heard of the place til Kaydn said it was there. Supposed to join others like us, I think. The Northland. Told you all I know. It's a better place, okay?"

Daxos glanced around at his companions. "I cannot speak for these others, but I will not abandon the cities. We must all stick together. But if there is a sanctuary to the North, both cityborn and Feral could benefit. All could benefit. I would see you able to raise a family in prosperity if I could."

"I agree with Daxos." spoke Damian "We cannot abandon Pike. Have you seen a cleric woman. Name's Mother Tobs. She would've been rather short. Brownish hair that went to her shoulders, in her late 40's?"

Matzan spit into the flame. "If she's a cleric she probably got picked up in a raid. 'Every cleric, every faith' is what Kaydn told us to get. Don't know what she wanted with em, but I got the feeling she wasn't the only one collecting clergy."

When an opening presented itself, Jacob spoke. "I agree we need to investigate. Pike needs its clerics if its going to survive though. I wonder, though, will it be safe to leave them there, if there are Feral roaming around taking them? Perhaps we should see how Father Tolly and the others feel?"

The sentiment generally seemed to resonate with the party, but Tolly and Garrat were already sleeping soundly. The conversation continued into the darkness as the fire waned, most of the words lost into the steady drone of the rain.

---

When the sun rose Damian, who had taken last watch, sat beside a freshly-kindled fire. The rain had washed the battle-torn earth clean away. What remains were there now might have been a hundred years old; the apocalypse had not been kind to vultures.

The two clergymen had already prepared what amounted to breakfast from the rations. Saltpork and hardtack. Not much, but they needed to save their prayers for the creation and purification of water, especially now that the barrels were broken. Despite being such a meager meal, the smell was divine.

"Now Garrat, your short age is getting the better of you. It's better to bring them back with us. There's likely more than enough room in Lake City to house them all"

"It isn't a matter of room, Father. It's a matter of practicality. Our group is less than ten and we shall take two days more to reach Pike, so how do you propose we move an entire town? We need to stay with them and be prepared to fight if we must."

"A city that size could withstand three, maybe four more raids like the one jackass over there helped commit. That's if they manage to keep their clerics alive. Oh and so you're aware, as of two days from now, that means us. No. They need the walls of Pike.

The others were stirring now, either wakened by the argument or the breakfast.

"Do you think we choose to be Feral? That we can just move on in to any old town we like? 'Come on in Matzan, we've got a little house all picked out for you and Ylena.' Peh. Most of us can't even get past the gate. We do just fine on our own." Matzlan's words echoed in Daxos' mind as the night passed and he slept near the fire. No. They didn't do just fine. Their life has hard and likely to be very short. Ok, so that seemed to describe just about everyone, but Ferals clearly had it even worse than city-folk. They were not doing just fine. And last nights near death experience for them was certainly proof of that. Even worse, "doing just fine" for them appeared to include causing great harm to others. And that was simply not acceptable.

But what was this meeting place he spoke about? And a better place to the north? That Daxos doubted. If there was still a place somewhere on this world unstained by the acid rains he doubted it would have remained a secret. So what then drew these ferals north? He could understand, although not sympathize with, the capturing of clerics, but this mass migration seemed to be a new thing. And if it came with a coordinated attempt to capture clerics, it presented a real danger to everyone. He wondered if other towns knew of their danger?

He woke to hear the two clerics arguing quietly amongst themselves. Move all of Pike? That seemed unlikely. Dax wasn't sure what he thought about that, but it seemed the first move was to get to Pike anyway. Probably any decision about moving the people would be made by the leaders of Pike. Certainly it would not be made by him. So, for now, it was time to move out.

But that did leave one problem unsolved, the feral couple would need to be dealt with. As he rolled out of his bedroll, Daxos spoke about the issue. "For now I assume the next step is to get to Pike. What about the couple? Given their history of attacking the towns, I don't think they can be freed. And despite his protests, their life was not ‘just fine.' I said I didn't want to abandon them, and I don't. I don't know what Pike holds in store for them, but it can't be worse than the wilds and they can't go anyway. So, I'm assuming they are coming with us. Any arguments?"

In the early morning hours, Xana let out a single ecstatic cry and then exhaled softly. Still panting, the dark faery moved from her resting place with a languid grace. Today she had performed her morning ministrations with a cantrip, and the fey magic had done its job prodigiously. Still holding the charm, she sent the magic to work cleaning the sweat and grime from her clothes and body. In moments Xana stood resplendent with the morning sunlight alight in her yellow eyes.

Not far off the others were beginning to gather around a cook fire and plot out the day. Gliding past the bickering clerics, Xana made her way to a location perfect for eavesdropping. With a wave of her hand, the witch floated a crisped salt pork slice into her hand. Taking a bite Xana leaned in to listen.

Whether Tolly or Garret won the argument, it was clear that either end would be untenable. There was talk of staying in Pike to defend the walls against raids, or worse escorting the entire wretched town back to Lake City.

The. Entire. Bloody. Town.

It would be another days travel before they reached Pike and she had only until then to manipulate a more suitable end. And perhaps there would be time to seek out more knowledge of the stars. No matter the cost, she would see herself the victor in the end.

"I agree, Daxos." Xana began wearing her most genuine smile. "We cannot leave them here, and there will be ample time on the road to decide on the best course."

"Do you think we choose to be Feral? That we can just move on in to any old town we like? 'Come on in Matzan, we've got a little house all picked out for you and Ylena.' Peh. Most of us can't even get past the gate. We do just fine on our own.

Damian listened intensely at the man, feeling a bit of sympathy and pity at how the poor man had to live. He kept silent though, wanting to hear more of what their plan is. At the mention of the cleric, he gripped his quarterstaff tightly, his entire body growing tense. He thought to himself:

Pike needs Mother Tobbs. Not only for water but she's a kind lady. One that helped me multiple times whenever I had a dilemma... Without her guidance, I can't imagine how everyone will fare.

His thoughts wandered to the heated arguments his family had when they found out all the clerics were gone. He hoped the towns people were staying calm.

His worry occupied him most of the night and as he couldn't sleep well, he offered to take the last watch. He gazed at the bodies that were now stripped clean of their flesh, just decayed corpses. No one would ever be able to identify them. Even though he fought them, even though they attacked Pike, he inclined his head and offered a short prayer for them, hoping for them to find rest.

His prayer was interrupted by the sounds of arguing and he grabbed his quarterstaff, walking towards the pair.

He listened at them, listening to Daxos and Xana. He cocked his head in curiosity, she was smiling at them. That was the first time he'd seen it he was pretty sure. He mentally shrugged, focusing on the matters at hand.

"We cannot bring the entire town with us. Pike is a defensive location, we won't fall easily without them... Plus convincing the men and families to leave their homes could prove.. difficult.".

"Concerning the 'Feral' We should bring them with us. They don't stand a chance without our aid and although they might have attacked Pike, I believe in redemption.".

The traveling party consists of Clary, a human ranger, her wolf Silinrul; Athelia, a Half-Elf Fighter; Jacob, a human Survivalist; Xana, an Elf Heritage Sorcerer; Dax, a gnome Rogue; and Damian, a human Druid. Together they have joined two Clerics in an effort to give aid to the nearby town of Pike, which was recently raided and whose Clerics are now missing. Without this aid, everyone in Pike will soon die of dehydration.

The party was attacked on their first night out by a group of bandits. These turned out to be "Feral Men," and two of them are now your prisoners. They are Matzan and Ylena, who were working in the employ of persons unknown in order to round up priests and bring them north for reasons unknown. They were headed to a place called Archumbra to meet with others, and then to head north to place that hasn't been touched by the evil of Rain.

Two more rains stood between the travelers and the walled city of Pike. The road, such as it was, followed the lakebed, and on the second day the party turned almost due south. A dusty wind picked up at around midday, seeming to usher the strange crew onward.

Little here marked the passage of time that day save the passage of the landscape. The ancient shoreline approached and rose steeply on their right. Deep gullies had washed into the hard earth there; a century of erosion had washed stones and roots out and piled them up along the shore. A few twisted trunks peered over the edge, still bearing sparse leaves. Perhaps this had once been the edge of a great forest, and these were among its last revenants. No violence, it seemed, could uproot them or destroy them completely, though it would be foolhardy to eat any fruit or nut they bore.

This night's shelter was not as lavish as the night before. Instead of one great pavilion, a dozen small ones had been built into the shore. They seemed tumbledown, but had in fact been well maintained by those who traveled this road before. Each hut was positively addled with graffiti. Names inside hearts, epithets and prayers, all indicating a hope to survive this trek, to not be caught outside after dark, and barring survival, simply to be remembered.

Later that evening, those that could tend wounds saw their efforts well rewarded, but neither Father Garrat nor Brother Tolly could manage a spell to mend the broken barrels. It seemed the gods were playing dice again, oblivious to the needs of their supplicants.

The third day was very much the same. If anyone had kept a diary of these travels, today would be a blank page that served both to describe the day's events and accurately portray the landscape everywhere but on their right.

The final pavilion was a large elevated wooden tent, its edges describing a circle perhaps 50 feet across. It seemed to everyone that they could have pressed on quite a bit longer, but when the rains came that evening it became clear why the pavilion was so strangely placed.. The shoreline opened up less than fifty feet from where they slept, and a gully of acid poured out, heavy enough to kill a horse in moments. The landscape, it seemed, funneled all the rain off into a canyon, and the road followed that canyon into Pike.

In the morning, the party set out into the canyon and on to the final leg of their journey. It was nearing noon when the road reached the shore for a final time. There were docks here, still standing strong despite no boat having moored on them for ten decades. Their ladders were clearly in use; their rungs were worn and discolored well beyond the rest. One by one the team scrabbled up it and into view of the walled city.

Pike stood before them, the mottled stone kept clean and polished as if by magic. (Actually by magic, if truth be known. It was an old enchantment bestowed on the city long before the rains began. The benefactor had been a wizard with a strong sense of civic pride.) An open archway stood before these ten travelers, and as they approached a voice shouted,

Who goes there?

Jacob had exposure to more clerics of more faiths than anybody else he knew, save perhaps those in the orders themselves. Outside of that community, however, he thought he'd probably had dealings with more clerics than possibly anyone else in Slate.

And while clerics were certainly to be valued, and even respected, it never, not once, ceased to amaze him how determined they could be to rejoin their god of choice by keeping their heads tucked safely into the clouds.

He wondered briefly if the various deities instilled such things into their followers, of if it just came along with being born a cleric. Perhaps remaining so closely in service towards them, eyes ever skyward, prevented people from seeing the land as it was?

Jacob shook himself, and willed himself calm again. These two particular clerics were amusing examples of their kind, and not to be the subject of his scorn. At least not yet.

That one of them spoke so casually of moving an entire town amazed him. He would have been surprised, but he'd long ago given up on that reaction, when clerics were involved. The fact that every once in awhile, a cleric or group of them managed to do something outlandish seemed to embolden all the rest, further trapping their sight heavenward. And no amount of failures or bloody deaths seemed to deter them.
It would be admirable, if tempered with a modicum of common sense.

The scout decided to take that thought to heart. No sense in getting worked up. The reality of the situation would await them at their destination, and any and all plans made beforehand would almost certainly be voided.

Looking around, he saw virtually no one interested in the conversation but him, save perhaps the elf, who seemed to be the only one engaging the clerics in conversation. Either they had come to similar conclusions has Jacob, or they simply didn't care.

It was with some relief that Jacob spotted Pike in the distance, a feeling that grew as they drew near. They weren't out of the storm just yet, so to speak, but now they could begin dealing with the realities, one way or another.