The party took a moment to catch their breath; reflecting upon the completion of their first real quest, and what it had almost cost them. Although the moment was brief; they were, after all completely out in the open of extremely hostile territory.
They hastily made for the tree line and got their bearings. Having established the direction of where they had concealed their canoe, the party made off at once and within half a day they found themselves in the familiar clearing.
Garth located the skull icon he had carved in the base of a tree and found the canoe in its hiding place, untouched. Still severely weakened by recent events, Garth stepped aside to allow Gorg and Uthal to hoist the boat to the river. They all clambered in and set off on their return journey to Port Nyanzaru.
Floating downstream, Garth took the opportunity to ask Azaka what had happened atop the Firefinger. Strangely, he had no memory of how the battle had ended.
Azaka did not mince her words. She explained how Garth had fallen and technically died in the battle. She went on to elaborate how she had saved him with the were-tiger curse and passed on what information she could to prepare the Cleric for the transformation he was about to undergo.
The next year of his life would be turbulent, to say the least.
Azaka handed Garth a small bundle of herbs. This herb, she went on to say, was what all were-tigers used to prevent the curse from corrupting their minds. It was rare and extremely expensive; the bundle Garth now held contained enough of the plant to last the remainder of their journey, but once they reached Port Nyanzaru Garth would be on his own.
Azaka's final instructions were on how to prepare the herb for consumption. A tea must be made from its leaves, but the precision in preparation was essential; incorrectly prepared and it could kill. However, prepared correctly and it would keep him sane. There was even a minute chance that the first time, and only the first time, Garth drank this tea the curse would be entirely eradicated from his body.
Their vessel didn't make too much progress down the waterway before it became clear the light was beginning to fade in the sky. So, a suitable stretch of riverbank was identified and the party disembarked, looking for a place to camp.
Noting their current supply levels, Garth suggested the group search for a nearby water source (still extremely weak, expending valuable power on conjuring water was not ideal).
Not too much time passed and a substantial watering hole was discovered. Garth set about, filling all the water skins and purifying the contents with a minor ritual.
But they were not alone.
Dozens of giant centipede-like insects burst from the rot of fallen trees and damp undergrowth. They immediately set upon each member of the party without prejudice and, while the creatures were still no larger than big rodents, they clearly packed a powerful and venomous bite.
The party was hardly at their strongest and this situation was not to be taken lightly. Uthal and Gorg were swarmed within seconds and began hacking at the beasts. Meanwhile Garth, still trembling with weakness, failed in every attempt to strike out at the assailants. However, his old companion Reksus ambushed the insects from behind and managed to buy enough time for Garth to escape.
The battle was won and with no real injuries suffered, but the jungle would no longer be underestimated. Any member of the party could find themselves under fatal circumstances at any time and any battle that could be walked away from was a gift.
Perhaps they would avoid such watering holes in the future.
Moving deeper into the trees, a site was chosen for camp and all began the routine of preparing for the night ahead.
As the rest of the team busied themselves, Garth began follow Azaka's intricate instructions for the brewing of the daily tea he would require for the rest of his life. His hands still trembled from the exhaustion he suffered and his confidence in the brewing waned.
But continue he must, and as he completed the final steps he proceeded to drink to the last drop. No immediate effect. Hopefully he would not perish in the night..
Dawn broke over the campsite and all awoke; thankfully including Garth who emerged from his tent with a large barn owl on his shoulder, pure white with a spray of silvered feathers. Garth explained to his bewildered companions that the owl was his familiar he had summoned from another plane. His name was Poe.
Garth hoped Poe would be able to assist them on their quest, although he didn't elaborate as to how.
Mysterious owls aside, the team proceeded to pack up their site and made their way back to the canoe and into the river once more.
The next day of travel was generally uneventful. Poe scouted the route ahead from the air and Garth's eyes turned milky white as his mind seemingly bonded with the bird.
Meanwhile, Reksus succeeded in spearing several fish and handed them over to the Quartermaster Cleric. Garth made to store them away, but the scent of the raw flesh instilled a deep hunger within him; it smelled exquisite. He tore into the flesh with his teeth, devouring all but bone. It seemed the first signs of the curse was beginning to take hold.
As the light began to fail, the canoe was steered to shore and the party made way to locate a new campsite for the night. A suitable location was soon established and the usual preparations were made.
The night drew on.
Azaka's watch passed without event and she awoke Gorg for his shift.
For the first hour, the night was silent, but now Gorg caught a rustling in the foliage; it was very close.
Gorg sounded the alarm.
Uthal sat bolt upright from his position by the fire, fully alert, and Garth and Reksus quickly emerged from their tents to join him; the eyes of Garth, and Poe upon his shoulder, clouded white once again. The Cleric was seemingly employing the birds natural Darkvision to empower his sight.
A man stepped forward into the clearing, arms raised in a non threatening manner. As he moved closer, additional shapes emerged from the bushes and moved towards them; seven men in total, filling the small clearing.
The newcomers looked extremely uneasy and, upon closer inspection, they showed signs of deep exhaustion.
The man at the front introduced himself as Akal.
He explained how he and the men behind him are all that remain of a large expedition; their companions had been slaughtered by Goblins mounted upon an enormous stegadon. He asked the party if they had any food or water to spare, as they had been without supplies for several days now.
The group quietly listened to Akal's story, keeping intensely aware of their surroundings; while the man seemed genuine, this could easily be the introduction to a well executed ambush. But there was no denying the state of the travelers and their desperate expressions; although desperate men could still be extremely dangerous.
Garth agreed to assist and set about procuring food rations and conjuring water into the open rain catchers; he invited them all to take their fill.
They needed no further prompting and scrambled for the offering. Garth took the opportunity to scan the tree canopy for Azaka and met her gaze; she was clearly choosing to remain hidden for the time being, a wise precaution.
Akal and his companions thanked the party greatly for their generosity and, with some of the tensions lifted, the conversation began to flow more freely.
The party all introduced themselves and were in turn introduced to the rest of Akal's group. One of which was a Cleric of Mystra, who was deeply concerned with Garth's choice in deity; constantly muttering Chultian prayers under his breath.
Akal also took an interest in Garth's devotion to Myrkul; he was under the impression the his followers declared themselves as Doombringers. Garth explained how he was not a Doombringer, that role was filled by one known as The Grave.
Swiftly changing subjects, Garth told of their recent brush with the Pterafolk at the Firefinger, although it was at this moment he let slip how he had technically died atop the tower. Akal was immediately confused and suspicious as he was aware of the Death Curse, which prevented resurrection.
He is now a Were-tiger. Reksus blurted and immediately regretted.
A look of dread and fear passed across the faces of Akal's party, but the man himself remained calm; almost curious. It transpired that he was a Scholar of the Great Reliquary in Luskan and also proficient in the arcane arts. In return for their kindness, Akal offered to remove Garth's curse.
Garth was torn. While these visitors now no longer seemed dangerous, there was still little cause to fully trust them.
Furthermore, he had previosuly given thought to the concept of attempting to remove the curse forcibly; considering the curse itself actually saved Garth from death, would he in fact die the moment the curse left his body?
Azaka chose this moment to drop down from her vantage point, the hulking woman startling many of the newcomers. She had come to the conclusion these visitors we no threat and could be trusted.
Garth was still uneasy, but, before he could protest, Akal placed a hand to the Cleric's forehead.
There is no curse within your body...
Akal stepped back. He could not detect any trace of the curse. All members of the party exchanged glances, bewildered. Then Azaka remembered the tea.
The tea, instead of merely suppressing the curse, had completely removed it on the first dosage; as Azaka had mentioned before, it had been a minute possibility, but it had worked.
This revelation was excellent news and all were filled with an immense sense of relief. Except Gorg, who expressed his disappointment at not being able to fight a tiger.
At this juncture, Akal announced that it was time his troupe must press on and thanked the party once more for their kindness. He also welcomed them to seek out the Great Reliquary in Luskan, should they find themselves near in the future.
They bid farewell and the night went quiet once more.
With several hours of darkness remaining, the party retired to their beds.
As Garth clambered into his tent and placed the bag over his head, he sensed a chill down his spine. And he heard a whisper pierce his mind.
The whisper of Myrkul.
The Lord of Bones issue a command. Garth MUST lift the death curse. The Dead Three require souls. Failure is not an option.
The Death Cleric vowed to fulfil his master's wishes and slowly lifted his veil. A shimmering skull dissipated into the darkness before him.