The party stood, facing the passage before them. The mangled forms of their insectoid ambushers lay at their feet and the cold night air blew through the rock from an opening in the tower.
They carefully stepped out of the cave and onto a narrow ledge; it was extremely slippery and the drop was now over 150 feet down.
Azaka refused to go any higher. As she had mentioned in the past, she was deathly afraid of heights; hence why she had not attempted to recover her family heirloom on her own.
Garth sympathised and told Azaka not to worry, they would recover her artefact and meet her at the bottom. Reksus, on the other hand, decided their guide could be extremely valuable in the fight to come and persuaded her to continue, just one more level...
They followed the treacherous ledge around the wall of the column, most of them almost losing their footing at least once; these ropes they had tied around themselves may have use yet. Eventually they came to another ladder and took turns carefully making their way up another level.
As their heads crested the next ledge, it became immediately apparent that light was coming from a new opening in the side of the rock; flickering as though coming from an open flame. They paced forward towards the light, which appeared to originate from a cavern to one side.
Without warning, three humanoid sized, leathery beasts burst from the room and set upon the party. These were certainly Pterfolk, but they moved slowly and their skin seemed more wrinkled and blemished than would be expected of a young, healthy specimen.
They began to put up a good fight, but as Azaka made her way through the companions and met face to face with their foe, a rage like no other took hold of her being.
Her bones cracked and shifted while dark fur burst from her skin.
She still stood on two legs, holding fast to her scimitar and shield, but her face had transformed to that of a fearsome tiger.
With a roar, she tore the elderly Pterafolk to shreds.
As the bloodbath subsided, Azaka calmed and gradually returned to her human form. She explained how her family carried this curse and that she had been born with it. Were-tigers could indeed be extremely dangerous, but she had spent a lifetime perfecting and controlling her condition.
She also explained that this curse allowed her excellent darkvision and that during her watches she in fact turned into a tiger; this of course could not be revealed to the party until she knew there was trust between them. There are many who do not approve of were-creatures.
A muffled sound came from the back of the cave. They approached with caution.
A winged humanoid with the face of an eagle lay restrained on the floor. Garth quickly untied the prisoner; employing the use of his spectral mage hand, not wanting to get too close, just in case.
The creature gave his thanks enthusiastically, introducing himself as Nefir of the Arakocra race. He had been performing his duties as a sentry to the mountain temple of Kir Sabal, when he was captured by the Pterafolk.
Reksus immediately recognised the name of the location as what had been mentioned by the Dragonborn in Port Nyanzaru when speaking to the treasures of Needles Bones.
Nefir insisted the party should find him in the temple and also seek to meet with the one named Ashara; she may perform the Dance of Seven Wings for the group.
The eagle man bid farewell to his saviours and leaped into the darkness with a beat of his wings.
On with the climb; for all except Azaka of course, she had climbed one additional level as previously stated.
Garth, again, made to agree with her, but Reksus immediately interrupted.
He played on the rage he had seen in the Chultian just moments before; did she not want to avenge her family and slay all the Pterafolk she could get her claws upon? She did.
Azaka requested a slap.
As palm met face, the shuddering rage again spread through her body as she released the inner beast and, with a snarl, Azaka lead the way.
Another chimney was located; the night sky could be seen through the rock.
Reksus paused a moment, sensing the danger before them, clearing weighing his options. He turned to the group and began to tell them of a mask he held in his possession. He would likely need wear this mask in the ensuing combat as it would grant him great power. However, there was a small chance that the outcome may not be so favourable. Regardless, they should not be alarmed.
The air of confidence was not returned as Reksus met the gaze of his comrades...
One by one they quietly climbed the final stretch of the Firefinger's height. Those who topped out first quickly clocked three Pterafolk feasting on some unrecognisable corpse in the opening to a stone hut. The team spread out and lay among the bushes and grasses that outlined the top of the tower.
In perfect unison, they struck.
Their foes barely stood a chance, as one fell immediately and the remaining two were left with mortal wounds. Pressing the advantage, Azaka, Gorg and Uthal charged and began hacking them to pieces.
A bellow rang out and a much larger Pterafolk stomped from the hut. Azaka seemed to recognise the newcomer and threw herself at it, spitting with rage.
Reksus pulled a mask from his pack and raised it to his face.
Light burst from behind the surface of the mask as it seemed to fuse to the Bard's skull, all while the sound of hushed screams tore through the night. The commotion ended and he raised his head.
"All right, here we go."
His voice and demeanour had completely changed and, as he took in his surroundings, he seemed utterly confused as to the nature of the current situation.
Fortunately, giant, leathery, winged creatures were usually a common enemy and he quickly joined the correct side of the battle; hurling a mix of powerful arcane and divine magic at the giant Pterafolk.
However, this was not to be their only foe, as more beasts emerged from the hut, drawing the attention of the party. The fight would be bitter.
Garth stood to the rear, firing spells of support.
A whistle to his left and he turned, just in time to glimpse a flying assailant wielding ferocious talons. Garth summoned the last of his power to project a shield of bone before him; the Pterafolk ricocheted off leaving Garth unharmed.
On the other side of the fight, a mirror strike had occurred, but Gorg had not been so fortunate; the beast had left a large gash in his side. Now surrounded, the party's fight was becoming desperate.
Already outnumbered, another aerial strike dove for Gorg and Garth , who held opposite ends of the line.
Gorg was knocked off his feet and a toothy maw found it's way around his throat; tearing flesh and leaving the half-orc bleeding on the ground.
Garth felt a talon pierce his chest and he retreated back towards the centre of the group.
Reksus took in his surroundings; many of their enemies had fallen, but a few still remained, including the larger one which was locked in a duel with Azaka. Gorg lay bleeding to his right and Garth was hastily retreating to his left side; wheezing heavily.
The Bard cast healing word on Gorg, stabilising his wounds and turned to administer aid to the Cleric.
Reksus watched as claws raked down Garth's torso from behind. He collapsed instantly and his assailant tore into his jugular as he fell; blood began pumping freely into the dirt and man's eyes glazed over.
Holy fire seared through Reksus' rapier and he pinned the winged beast to the dirt.
Meanwhile, Uthal clove the final minion in two, dropped his weapon to the ground and bear hugged the remaining giant foe in a contest of raw strength; there was no breaking free. Azaka did not hesitate and ripped its vital organs from its body.
Acutely aware of her surroundings, the were-tiger did not pause a beat and turned on the spot to throw herself upon the fallen Cleric; clamping her teeth around his throat.
A moment passed.
Garth's heart began to beat.
The Cleric did not regain consciousness, but life had returned to him, however tenuous. Uthal and Gorg carried Garth into the stone hut and lay him on a makeshift bed. They would spend the remainder of the night here, or at least until their friend's condition improved.
Azaka explained to the group; in order to save Garth she had passed her curse onto him, in the hopes it would latch onto the last remaining essence of life and sustain him. Over the next day, his body would undertake immense strain as his tissues fought the changes. In the hours to come, he would wake or die.
Reksus volunteered for first watch, there were no objections; it had been a hard fight and all were desperate for rest. Once silence fell upon the air, save for the crackle of the arcane beacon of the Firefinger above them, Reksus reached for the mysterious mask; still clamped to his face.
Again, the grating sound of hushed screams pierced the silence and Reksus fell to a knee, as though his energy had been sapped; the masked did not move.
Twice more he tore at his face, to little result.
Beads of sweat running from the back of his neck, the Bard cried out in desperate exertion as he tried a final time to wrench the parasite from him.
Seams of light burst from the edges of the mask as it levered from his brow. The mask hit the dirt, as did the Bard; unconscious.
Reksus felt excruciating pain in his gut as he woke to find Azaka's heel embedded in his diaphragm. She was less than pleased that he appeared to have fallen asleep on watch; it was now daybreak. Reksus was genuinely confused, he had no memory of the battle from the night before, nor wearing the mask.
This also meant that he was unaware of Garth's current condition. Azaka lead him to check on their friend.
Black veins were creeping up the sides of Garth's neck, weaving around thirty or so small fang marks, but he was still alive; barely.
Clearly still unable to travel, the party busied themselves around the tower and, as a result, Uthal located a hoard of gems and trinkets that would surely fetch a fine price.
The sun had begun making its downwards decent into the horizon. All eyes were on the motionless Cleric.
He stirred.
Garth's eyes opened to the concerned faces of his comrades; a wave of visible relief passed between them. Reksus was not the only one struggling to remember the details of the night before; Garth, it seemed, had no recollection of his brush with death.
No time to explain. It was still possible that more Pterafolk patrols could return to their lair; the party should leave immediately.
Garth stood and almost collapsed immediately, he was utterly exhausted; more so than he had ever felt in his life. Barely able to stand, perhaps climbing down the perilous spire was unwise.
Garth turned to the group and shakily described a new spell he had been working on; it should allow them all to float safely down to the ground.
Should.
Most were eventually convinced to comply, but Azaka, however, felt her fear of heights return like block of lead in her gut. She flat out refused.
But the spell had already been cast and Garth stepped off the edge of the tower into nothing, Gorg following suit. Reksus wrestled briefly with their guide, but she fought off his kitten like strength with ease. It was only upon glancing over the edge and witnessing the the Cleric and Fighter fluttering downwards like a pair of feathers, that she clamped herself to the Bard, closed her eyes and toppled over the edge.
Uthal, who had been preoccupied with his notebook, looked up to find himself alone. He leaped to the edge and dove over head first.
Garth and Gorg touched down with relative grace. Followed by Reksus and the quivering mess attached to him. A few seconds later and Uthal slowly crumpled into the ground, face first; although completely unharmed.
Azaka peeled herself from Reksus' silks and began kissing the earth beneath her.
Their quest was completed and they had all made it out alive. Just.