[closed] INTO THE WOODS.
At Ramir's request, Hellboy has accompanied her into the jungle, looking for clues as to this rising cult of Ryba. It's dangerous stuff, cults, particularly when those cults have a penchant for sacrificial mutilation: missing villagers can only spell disaster for the recruits themselves down the line, so it's best to nip this in the bud as quickly as possible.
Hellboy is worried about the missing half of their team, but until the storm dies down, there seems to be no better way to pass the time than walking around in creepy jungles looking for possible cannibals.
THE RESCUE.
After Hellboy's warning and the necessary preparations, it's time to rescue King and Ramir -- and as many captured Nalawi as you can. The camp is by one of the largest estuaries on Pu'ulai, camouflaged by native flora and hidden in the shadow of the volcano Nalalona. The cultists have removed King and Ramir's magitek jewellery, but the tracking beacons are still active, making it easier to find them than without.
The well-hidden camp is creepy, filled with ramshackle tents and poorly-made effigies. There's a pool in the middle of it all, filled with brackish, murky water. Ramir, King, and a small number of terrified-looking Nalawi are all bound, kept on the far side of the camp.
The cultists are all dressed in hooded black robes, doe and stag alike. They are all without their Gifts, but that does nothing to temper their ferocity at intruders into their camp. Despite their diminutive size, they know the forests better than any ALASTAIR recruit, and are suited to blitz attacks on any would-be rescuers; they may pop out of the underbrush in small, seemingly endless waves. They also have sharp hooves and the stags' horns are dangerous, capable of goring anyone who doesn't get out of the way of a charge.
The cult is surprisingly large, so it may take some time to defeat them all. Whether you want to spare them or destroy them is up to you -- but it's clear that the cult has no plans for mercy whatsoever.
EXPLORATION.
Now that the cultists have been dispatched (one way or another), the camp is free to explore.
If any cultists are captured for questioning, they'll speak in gibberish and violently lash out at anyone who comes too close. The only thing they'll say that makes any sense is that Ryba is hungry -- Ryba the devouring one has eaten all the lesser gods in the world long ago, and now she needs more.
All around the camp are various effigies (poorly crafted from dried kelp), shark's teeth, and other junk of the sea. There are tents scattered around that may be explored; they are filled with mundane paraphernalia such as books, combs, and other trinkets of sentimental value. If one didn't look at the horrors outside the tents, it might be confused for a refugee camp.
The pool in the middle of the camp is filled with black water and disembodied Nalawi eyes, its concentrated magical energy more potent than even the water out in the ocean. There is a single doe in it, floating face down, the latest sacrifice before the cultists were interrupted; not dressed in their black robes, she is one of the missing villagers who was not so lucky. If she is turned over, it can be seen that her eyes have been gouged out.
The surviving kidnapped villagers are badly shaken up but have no answers as to what happened other than they were captured by what they refer to as a "death cult." Apart from some slight hunger and dehydration, none of them are injured. They're just glad to be alive, and ask to be escorted back to the Pu'ulai temple.
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epidemiology2016-05-09 06:34 pm
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There's no way he can sit tight right now. He can't engage the enemy either. Without a word to Ban, King takes off running.
King's not fast, and he's not quiet. But then, that's part of the point. He clomps down on as much foliage as possible and even uses the spearhead to knick his wrist and keep the blood flowing, creating a false trail for any pursuers to follow. A false trail that will end abruptly when King clambers up into another tree.
His plan is to hop from branch to branch in order to get back, but... This is considerably more difficult when he's earthbound.]
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There was flame in his side and in his thigh. Those wounds were the most grievous, save for the burns all over him--which were superficial and painful at their worst. The wound in his stomach was one that would prevent him from running far and the one in his thigh was one that would prevent him from running fast. He gritted his teeth and waited it out. Five minutes passed and the pain kept up. Five minutes passed and he felt the wound in his thigh had ceased throbbing and burning quite so much.
King hadn't run off for long.
Another five minutes passed and the sounds of a handful of remaining cultists came out from the brush. Ban gritted his teeth, focusing on keeping his presence fully masked. King really had done it, this time. Ban was supposed to be the one to soak up the hits. They were breaking their medium like that! What good was an immortal if he didn't eat the attacks for everyone else?]
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King arrives within hearing distance just as the frantic Nalawi cultists crunch through the brush and into the semi-clearing that houses Ban's tree trunk. He doesn't know when he started holding his breath, but he certainly isn't breathing now, hoping against hope that the Nalawi take his bait. If not... He prepares to snap a branch and toss it.
Unlike Ban, he can't buy them time by fighting this out. Their only chances are entwined in this twisted game of hide-and-seek.]
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One of the cultists stepped beneath a heavy branch--the last one to approach the clearing where King had arrived. There were five left in total. Ban couldn't see King, which he supposed was for the best. If Ban couldn't spot him visually, then he had managed to find cover thick enough to hide behind.
Ban's hands latched over the Nalawi's mouth and his arm tightened around their throat. He snapped their neck and brought them down to the ground in silence before falling back into nothingness. The cultists hadn't noticed.]
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From above, King holds back a gasp. That's one cultist down, with at least three more to go. Has Ban really recovered that much already? Or is he just as desperate as King? Experience tells him it's probably the latter. King grits his teeth.
If Ban's going to play the silent killer, then King has no choice but to keep up the misdirection, divert their eyes away from Ban as he finishes them one at a time. Same idea as before, just with more gruesome results. His attention shifts to the large tree whose branches are keeping him out of sight, then back to the spearhead in his hand. He doesn't have time to think this through -- No more hesitation.
A snapping resounds through the area as King breaks the largest branch he can find. That should distract them long enough for Ban to make another move. Once the bloodthirsty Nalawi catch on to his basic ruse... That's when the spearhead will come in handy.]
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He ignored it, pushing forward. King's distraction woke him up, his sleepy and unseen gaze settling on the general vicinity of where he had hidden. Ban scowled, realizing what King was doing right away. The Fairy King had a soft step to begin with so he managed to stay hidden awhile, so there was no chance he would do something stupid like step on a branch unwittingly. Fairies knew woods like the backs of their hands--even unfamiliar ones.
It was a good distraction, at least. All three heads turned in one direction and the one furthest to the back turned a few times for good measure. Ban had snapped its neck with a tight grip on its horns and mouth that made it look like a comically mangled toy, its body being lowered to the dirt in complete and utter silence. When the other two went to approach King, Ban followed. Their third companion was besought by the underbrush.
He burned and burned, but kept moving. No matter what Ban thought of himself and how much he teased King, the guy was still his ally and Elaine's brother. If someone tried to kill one of the Sins, Ban would make them answer for it.
The second to last cultist's neck snapped much the same as the others, leaving the last one feeling Ban's presence on the back of his neck. Ban didn't bother killing him right away--the cultist gaping at the bloody nightmare towering over him with his spear raised in defense. He slowly fell to one knee, gasping for breath. Ban kept one hand lifted up, draining away the cultist's strength with what seemed like very little effort. When the cultist fell down to his knees completely, Ban leaned forward to whisper in his ear. King wasn't meant to hear him.]
Your goddess is going to fucking die. I'll make sure of it.
[With grim finality, Ban yanked one hand back sharply. In his hand was the torn heart of the cultist, who fell back without any hint of a response other than glazed over fear.]
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He hasn't heard a thing, just as Ban intended, but he's obviously watched the entire spectacle. King eyes the bloody heart in Ban's hand without surprise or disgust. He simply acknowledges it before turning his focus on Ban himself.
A murderous deer's health matters to him considerably less than that of the man his sister gave her life for.]
We should hide again. Until you can run.