"Raaaaaaaa!" Sirge sprints across the camp toward the oncoming creatures, the sound fading into the fog as you run in the opposite direction, into the cave mouth. The narrow passage leading down into the rock takes you back to the docks. Your ship is still waiting there, next to the rowboat that looks to seat eight passengers, both drawn up against the shoreline. Beyond them, in the waters of the cove, the other keelboat still rocks against the waves from the sea, anchored to the base of the statue's broken hand. The shouts of combat from above you are muffled now, filtering into the cave through the tunnel with a haunting echo intensified by the pinging of steel.

The small beach is quickly feeling crowded as the rescued captives follow your lead.

Hildigrim follows behind the others, his mind a blur. He can't think about what is going on. He just has to stay alive.

Once they reach the boats, some of his earliest memories surface. He jumps onto the cultists' boat and begins getting it ready to sail. 

Carl seems to be putting one foot in front of the other, being mindful not to trip and moving quickly as he can to the boats.  He looks up as space will seem to be at a premium, glancing at Squirt, saying “Bye ole feller, no space, will see you round again..” and he lets him dissipate.  He climbs into one of the boats, looking at the passageway that they came from, readying a Eldritch blast to launch at the first enemy that appears.  

As soon as they reach the boats, Hex starts to split the captives up so everyone can fit - with four humans and two dwarves, she sends three to the cultist's boat and another three to the other. She goes to follow Hildigrim onto the cultist's boat and suggests to Carl and Auriel to head onto the other boat. Like Carl, she prepares to attack if any of the orcs, kobolds or Gray Cloaks decided to follow them.

As per Hex's instruction, Auriel jumps into his boat without hesitation. His first instinct is to stay alert in case they're attacked, but if it looks like no one else aboard knows how to sail, he'll take the helm. He's no expert navigator (ooc: hmm, have I said that before?), but he hopes the bit of experience he gained in the marsh—along with whatever he may have picked up from watching Hildigrim on the way to the Pyre—will be enough.

Auriel and Carl enter the keelboat with three of the rescued captives while the two dwarves argue with the human - "We shoulda gone with 'im!" - "What, and died for no reason?" - "Better 'at than runnin', and we'd get to kill a couple o' orcs, too!"

Hildigrim and Hex bring the others onto the rowboat, rowing with the keelboat out to the ship of the Gray Patriots and clambering aboard. The ship is still crowded with supplies, and two Gray Patriots still sit with their backs to one another, bound with rope. One is unconscious, but the other looks up with confused and somewhat crazed eyes as the others board, rocking the boat back and forth. Carl lets fly an eldritch blast that sizzes the wall of the cavern, aiming at an orc that has followed through the passageway. The orc, seeing too much distance between itself and the boats in the water, lets out a roar and shakes its greataxe at the departing party, then charges back up the tunnel toward the Gray Patriots' camp.

“Steady on,” Hildigrim says to the bound man, his voice calm but firm. “You may not like it, but your fate is far more certain with us than with what’s waiting back there.”

He glances over his shoulder, peering through the persistent fog toward the fading echoes of chaos. Another shiver runs through him, and his injured shoulder protests — a sharp reminder of just how close things came.

Turning back to the boat, he adjusts his weapons and speaks with quiet resolve.

“Let’s head east. With any luck, the Moonsea will favor us and carry us swiftly on.”

Hex aims her bow at the orc but as it turns around and heads back into the tunnel, she lowers it and lets out a sigh of relief. She ignores the Gray Cloaks and pats Hildigrim on the shoulder to cast Cure Wounds (9 health restored). "Sorry to do this to you but I'm gonna go find a corner and knock out. Wake me in an hour, I can take over then." She gives him an apologetic smile before trudging off to look for a solitary spot on the boat and take a short rest. She collapses onto the floor and falls asleep almost immediately. If it weren't for the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, she would look like a freshly dead corpse from the sheer amount of the blood she was covered in. 

OOC: Before I advance us further, I'm assuming that the party is going to sail back to Phlan and report to Braden Yil? Please let me know if this is not the case.

Auriel pays no mind to the discussion taking place, focused instead on ignoring the exhaustion and pain as he mans the boat that will take them away from a place that would only have brought more death had they stayed any longer.

If an opportunity arises to rest and there's no immediate danger around them, he removes his armour and rests for a while. He falls into a still posture and closes his eyes, focusing on the wind on his face, feeling lighter without the frosty armour weighing him down. He'd gladly float away like a feather on the breeze and be done with everything.

Moments later, he lets out a deep breath, opens his eyes, and stands to man the boat again. As Phlan comes into view, he dons his armour once more, ready for whatever comes next.

As the magical healing eases some of his pains, Hildigrim refrains from asking, "Why didn't you do this before?!"

His mind clears a little, and he broods on the events of the day and what he should do tomorrow as they sail back to Phlan.

The journey back to Phlan is tense and crowded, and even as the ship sails into Phlan's small harbor, with the fog and battle of King's Pyre well behind you, a pall lingers over you. Braden Yil is quick to arrive after the harbormaster sends word that his chartered ship has returned. After only a couple of hours after docking, the Black Fist has arrived to bring the Gray Patriots to Valjevo Keep to await further sentencing, and the rescued captives to more comfortable lodging for more temporary questioning.

"Right, then," Braden says later that night at The Laughing Goblin, once Imizael has poured some drinks for the table. The crackling fire and dry, warm atmosphere seems at odds with the experience of recent days. "Don't worry, I'll be out of your way in a jiffy," Fat Mar says as the affable server places some stew in front of you. Once he departs, Braden looks intently to you. "I can tell you've had a rough go of it," he says. "But even though you returned without Krulek or Jeralla, you returned with freed prisoners and a pair of Gray Patriots. What happened out there?" 

Carl takes the opportunity to take a short rest as well, not at the same time as Auriel, keeping his eyes fixed on the prisoners, his hands ready to light them up if they tried to escape or get free.  ((Taking a short rest if allowed, using 1 hit die for 8 points of healing, along the way.))

Carl just grunts when Braden asks the question.  "A massacre." is all he will say, waiting for Auriel, Hildigrim or Hex to chime in with all of the details.  By that point, Squirt has reappeared, and he sends him over to fetch a rag from the bar, cleaning up some water rings on the table, he turns to Squirt and says "We're gonna work on lighting a torch quickly later, how ta use a damn tinderbox, and how ta get the lead out of your arse.  Later.  A little chat."  Then he turns back to listen to the conversation, with frequent sips of beer in between.  

Hildigrim inhales the steam rising from his bowl of stew, momentarily allowing its warmth to soak into the bones he can't seem to thaw. He looks to Braden, then to the flickering fire, and finally begins to speak — quietly, but with careful, deliberate precision.

“It is perhaps best to characterize the endeavor as … strategically inconclusive, though not without merit. While we did not apprehend either Krulek or Jeralla — a reality I find personally vexing — we did succeed in compromising their position.”

He gestures vaguely toward the understood rescued prisoners. “Several captives were extricated from beneath their collective cruelty, and two members of the so-called Grey Patriots now sit behind bars. That alone is a nontrivial victory.”

He pauses, then continues, tone tightening just slightly.

“Jeralla remains unaccounted for, her fate uncertain following the orcish incursion — though, regrettably, not yet confirmed one way or the other. What is clear is that she possessed a tome of considerable arcane peculiarity. Whether artifact, entity, or some aberrant fusion of the two, it appears to exhibit autonomous behavior — writing of its own accord, and by some accounts, responding when spoken to. She was seen to consult it frequently, perhaps even defer to it. Whether the book is cultic in origin, or whether Jeralla’s aims continue to align with the larger framework of the Cult of the Dragon, is, at present, indeterminate. But the object may be central — not merely to her, but to the ideological splintering we observed between her and the Grey Patriots.”

“Complicating matters further, we had a brief but revealing exchange with an intermediary — a two-headed emissary named Sharrak. According to him, Jeralla may have already diverged from the Cult’s true doctrine. Whether she was ever truly aligned with them, or merely adjacent in ideology, is unclear. Sharrak used the term heretic, which, given the source, suggests a schism more profound than we initially assumed. If that’s true, the tome she carries may not be a cultic artifact at all — or worse, it may represent a competing vision within their larger draconic theology.”

He exhales slowly, fatigue evident in the way he rubs his eyes behind his spectacles. “The plan was to obtain it, of course. But the situation deteriorated with the abrupt arrival of a third faction — orcs, possibly from Thar, with clear draconic affiliations. Their incursion turned an already volatile summit into a full rout. We had to choose between salvaging a few lives and risking all for the unknown.”

He folds his hands in his lap, fingertips steepled. “So yes, we returned without Krulek. And without Jeralla. But the cult is fragmented, its cohesion strained. What they sought to build has been, at the very least, delayed — if not derailed.”

Then, more quietly, as if to himself: “And unfinished business rarely remains that way for long.”

Hex slouches in her chair, still in pain from her wounds. She holds her drink to her mouth, resting it on her sternum as she  slowly sips at it like a hot soup - hoping the alcohol eases the pain. She watches as Hildgrim recounts the past few days. She's too exhausted to say much but it doesn't seem like there's anything for her say anyway. He had it all in hand. She lets out a chuckle as she overhears Carl talking to Squirt. It was a small but very much welcome reprieve.

Hex glances at Auriel halfway through Hildigrim's recounting, curious to see if he has any reaction to... well anything at all. Ever since he turned into his winter form, he seemed almost entirely emotionless. There's a pang of guilt in her heart, she can't help but wonder if it was her fault. She misses the warmth of his summer form.

(OOC: Rolled 1 Hit Die for a total of 10 HP)

Auriel doesn't touch his food.

He sits with his arms folded, back straight, eyes fixed not on Braden, nor the fire, nor even Hildigrim or Carl as they speak, but on some indeterminate middle distance.

As Hildigrim advances through the retelling of what happened on the island, Auriel begins tracing the rim of the mug with a finger. A thin layer of frost follows the motion, blooming across the metallic surface—only to vanish before the circle is complete. Then he begins the motion anew.

He notices Hex's glance and meets her eyes for a moment, silently, before looking away again.

When Hildigrim mentions the tome, Auriel's eyes narrow slightly. And when the recounting turns to "salvaging a few lives", his finger halts mid-circle. Then he rests the hand on the table.

"We chose retreat because there was no victory left to seize. Not without sacrificing lives—ours, and the hostages'. No book, no Jeralla, no Krulek, and no Sharrak is worth that."

His gaze moves across the table, resting briefly on each face. Then he lifts the mug, takes a measured sip, and sets it down again.

"Hey, does that thing work for free?" Fat Mar asks, his ample belly rolling with the jovial chuckle that follows as he calls out from across the tavern at the sight of a washrag seemingly cleaning the table all by itself. His mirth stands in stark contrast to the attitude at the table, as Braden listens carefully to all of your details.

"It sounds like it remains to be seen whether this rout of these bandits will clear up the Iron Route, or simply introduce a new threat," Braden ponders for a time. "Regardless...House Cadorna thanks you for your efforts, even if the bounty on Krulek and Jeralla have been left unfulfilled. You may not have emerged victorious, but your efforts in apprehending some of the Gray Patriots, and in rescuing some of those that have been taken along the Iron Route, are to be commended. I will bring word of all you have found, and we will brave the Iron Route once more."

As more of the clientele filter in for the evening, Braden lifts his mug with a knowing smile. "To the ones who have freed the Iron Route!" he says in a toast, eliciting cheers and gazes from all around. "You'll drink for free tonight," he says with a wink as he departs.

OOC: Each character has received 153 XP for returning the captives to Phlan, along with a couple of Gray Patriots.

We are now entering ten days of downtime. Along with wrapping up your character's thoughts and efforts in this adventure, think of what they would like to do during ten days of rest.  
 

Hex frowns as it becomes clear that they weren't going to get any money for their troubles. On any other day, she would've fought tooth and nail for payment, especially after everything they had gone through, but not today. She lets out a sigh and finishes off her drink and food before bidding everyone a good night and heading off for some much needed sleep. 

She wakes up late the next day, still sore but in a much better condition. Her mind was clearer and she sets out with a bit of a plan.

First things first, she goes to report back to Chaab. She details everything they discovered and the chaos that ruined any chance of further investigation - handing him the things she took in Krulek's tent as well as the letter on they found on the cultist's ship. "I'm planning on heading back though, at least to confirm if Krulek and Jeralla are dead. If you want, I can mark the location if I find Krulek's body. Even dead, his body or soul could still prove useful."

Second, she goes to seek out Braden Yil to ask a simple question. "If we could confirm that Krulek and/or Jeralla were dead, would we get the bounty? I know we technically didn't kill them but we almost all died. I just can't accept getting nothing after everything we went through."

Whatever Braden's reply, she goes to see Hildigrim next. "I was thinking of heading back to King's Pyre. You seem pretty desperate to get your hands on Jeralla's book so I wanted to ask if you want to tag along?"

A hitch in Hex's plan:

The next morning, Hildigrim will leave a note with Fat Mar for Olisara Lightsong. The note basically says everything he told Braden the night before with his next steps outlined:

"I plan to return to King's Pyre immediately. My hope is that the raiders wanted nothing to do with Jeralla's book and so it is still there, waiting to be picked up. I am also hopeful that Sirge survived the attack. I will look for signs of him and Sharrak as well, as Sirge wished that the kobold be brought to the Harpers for questioning. I will hopefully return before a tenday is out to make my report."

With the note left, he will immediately head for the docks, intending to use the Grey Patriots' ship to sail back to King's Pyre. On the way, he'll stop by a shop and buy 9 arrows.

So, he probably left before Hex is even awake.

His goals at King's Pyre are above: find and collect the book, look for signs of Sirge and perhaps help him or recover his body, and look for signs of Sharrak or the Cult's movements in general.

For the rest of his downtime, I'd really like him to track the Cult to get some intel on them (not to engage). He will return right before the end of the tenday since he told Olisara he would, so that he can report to her what he found.

If that won't work or if he doesn't find any tracks to follow, he'll return to Phlan, make his report to Olisara, and research the Cult during the day. At night, he'll try to find out as much about Carl as he can — he is especially interested in learning all about his magic book.

After it was all said and done, the mission ended, the resultant relaxation and revelry… Carl could sense the different directions that everyone was in with the group.  Tense conversation at the table as the group mentioned what they would like to do next, Carl was listening to each and making mental notes.  He says to Hildigrim, “I’d like to go back there as well, just to see what happened, outta curiosity.  And ye probably shouldna go there alone, ya know?  So, why don’tcha just let me come with you, eh?”  He looks across the table at Auriel, seeing the frosty rim form on his mug, a worried look appears on his face.  “An when we get back, I’ll want to talk more with you, Mister.  I don’t understand all these seasons and so forth that you’re goin’ through, but I’ve a mind that I don’t like winter at all, no sir.”  

That night when he goes to bed, if they find a room nearby, just in case, he sets an alarm around the doorway from Hildigrim’s room.  Just in case.  Sneaky one.  Will try to leave me in the dust, well no sir.  He leaves his pack ready to go, and goes to sleep, a fitful sleep, where a group of orcs covered in pitch are chasing him down a hallway, and a deep booming voice at the other end laughs at him as he runs toward it…

Carl accompanies Hildigrim, if he will let him.  He wants to search the site of the battle as well, help Hildigrim find this book that was all important.  He does share stories about his past, about how he met Auriel and the deep booming drums.  He relates what it was like to be inside a giant toad.  Over time, he gradually starts to talk about his family, the lost family heirloom, his battle axe that he’s searching for.  Whenever matters turn to his dark book, the voice that he hears in his head, he grows guarded, choosing to change the subject.  Some things take time, and Hildigrim can tell that it is a very sore subject.  Carl tries to play it off or make small talk, for now.