WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE.

~ DM: We're back! The legend of this band of weirdos continues... though in a more truncated format.
For 153 sessions I somehow managed to write a short story entry for each one. Time is simply more precious these days. While the adventures will continue to be posted, entries shall take on a format around half the length of before, focusing on session highlights rather than an ambitious block of writing. Don't worry. It's still all silly. Read on and enjoy! ~

​

*         *         *

​

Where does one start with the Handy Hands? Is it at their unlucky origins as four shipwrecked castaways? Is it soon when allies were gained and their unusual moniker declared? Is it their rise to fame through a bizarre combination of daring jungle expeditions, high seas pirate hunting, and theatrical events with immersive production value? Or is it with their greatest deed of heroism - stopping an interdimensional lich from sucking the very life out of their world?

​

Or is it perhaps in more recent times, in which a pirate resurgence and the mighty Aremag were defeated, or their airship journey to a doomed land to rescue friends and learn the truth about the Chultan god Ubtao? Maybe one can start without all the baggage. Once upon a time there was a group of unlikely heroes who had saved others more times than one can count yet found their own dream still not fully realized... the dream of a fully immersive theatrical destination resort:

​

Handy World.

​

A couple months after the events within the Bakumora the Handy Theater debuted to a pleased public and positive reviews. Krenko 'Tok-Tok' Kikijiki, finding his taste for adventure satiated after literally eating the 'God Meat' of Ubtao, stays behind in Port Nyanzaru training actors for their biggest production yet - 'The Pirates of Chult Chance'. For the rest, it's off by airship to Jahaka Anchorage. Around a year ago after defeating the bay's sea bandits there were wistful thoughts of one day returning to make it a happening locale. Time to secure Jahaka Bay in the name of artistic immersion!

 

Indeed the Anchorage wasn't much to write home about. Twice over networks of pirates had been broken up by the Handy Hands, and the once-deadly hive of villainy is a shell of its former self. Only a handful of maimed, overly crusty, or unwanted pirates remain to drink at Bosco's Bilge. With a sales pitch for theme park renovations by Arnie, casual threats of violence from Bertram, and awe struck by Peach in showing off her dinosaur son Cobbler and Manos the giant animated skeleton hand outside, the residents are quick to get on board. Handy World it shall be! 

 

There is the matter of 'Tinder', Bosco warns. Ever since pirates settled in Jahaka Bay there's been a big red dragon robbing ships and burning the defiant. If the Handy Hands hope to have any regular tourist comings and goings, they'll have to search out this 'Tinder' at her former mine of a lair and somehow end the threat.

​

Very well then. To Wyrmheart Mine! Cobbler magically shrunk and left behind for his first job as a kitchen busboy, Arnie's Flying Helper takes off across the bay to the south. It's a smooth day or two trip. Arnie plans out theme park rides (drugs required, of course), Bertram fishes for flying fish, Peach writes a new tune with frequent breaks to scry her crystal ball, and Nakam joy rides on his griffon Feygllyyb between realizations that he has never once been paid.

 

The mood shifts quickly in cloudy skies near the Kobold Mountains. Flying kobolds and their payloads swarm out of the clouds like an angry hive as a massive red shape surges from beneath. Tinder! She's nearly the size of their airship!

 

“Ash and sulfur. Fire and blood. BEHOLD! You enter the domain of the burning queen of western Chult: TZINDELOR THE CRIMSON DREAD! Strength unrivaled! Ferocity unmatched... CUT! No. Scratch that last line. RESET POSITIONS!"

​

The huge dragon dives back into the clouds. The kobolds look at each other in confusion, then do the same. Moments later the entire scene repeats, Tzindelor getting further in her monologue and kobolds boarding the ship before another cut is called, the dragon once again resetting. By the third reset the kobolds are visibly distressed. But Arnie gets it.

​

"She's a thespian perfectionist, guys!", he says, before announcing to the wind. "Your acting skills are incredible! What an imposing physical performance! What a command of the audience's response! We may have an opportunity for you!"

​

Whirring kobold wings beat as the biggest payload yet is dropped off on deck: it's the largest kobold ever! At least, a 6-foot kobold is what it looks like at first glance. Painted wooden costume pieces, embedded kobold tech, and a big pair of disconcerting googly eyes... is it a human woman cosplaying as a kobold? Nonsense, the kobolds declare! This is Fish, champion of their queen Tzindelor, and biggest of all kobolds!

​

Fish is itching for a fight until her diminutive allies fill her in on Tzindelor's behavior. Oh no. It's getting worse. The great dragon called 'Tinder' by the pirates has been increasingly withdrawn, unable to find happiness, refusing to leave her lair much of the time, and just going through the expected motions when she does. This isn't method acting. What was mistaken for serious chops is more of a mental health crisis in action. 

​

It gets the crew thinking. They could battle a massive dragon and her tribe of minions (while on a highly flammable and explosive airship, Bertram notes), or they could help someone in need. Isn't that what the Handy Hands do - help? Sure, Tzindelor may be a less-than-good flying death machine, but doesn't everyone deserve another turn in life... or at least some mental health support? After some antagonism between Peach and Fish, and Nakam bonding with kobolds over the notion of fairly compensated employment, Tzindelor soars in again and is ready to talk.

​

The pitch is made. Rather than terrorizing tourists, would Tzindelor be interested in terrorizing tourists in less than deadly fashions multiple times a day at regularly scheduled intervals? It intrigues the dragon. It would be something new and interesting to do. It would also be a surefire way to spread her name into notoriety.

 

It'd be a negotiation she'd be willing to have... AFTER her champion Fish finally deals with the persistent thorn in her side. Fire newts have been pressing in on her territory for years, and despite a guerilla war effort her kobolds have been unable to defeat the fire immune creatures. Help Fish destroy their base of operations - the dwarven ruins of Hrakhamar - and she'll talk. It's an easy agreement. Murder everyone to gain a major attraction for Handy World. To Hrakhamar! 

​

*         *         *

​

The Valley of Lost Honor. So named as the location in which Ras Nsi earned his exile from Mezro, it is now a 100-mile long stretch of lifeless pumice and ash from the constantly erupting Kobold Mountains. At the west end sits the poorly guarded surface entrance to Hrakramar, where a patrolling force of firenewts is 100% not expecting a brutal aerial ambush. One volley of arrows, one cannonball, and one swarm of insects later plus a bit of cleanup, the Handy Hands creep their way down into the ruins of one of Chult's former great dwarven city-states. 

​

In dim magical light the dilapidated passages reveal long forgotten mining tunnels. After descending a good mile or more below the surface a dull red glow is seen ahead... and the heat felt. Following old mine cart rails Bertram sneaks off to the left and the glow intensifies. A river of magma runs through the heart of these ruins. What remains of grated iron walkways hang on to chasm edges, the mine cart tracks crossing the span dubiously.

​

In the lead and clearing smoke by way of gust of wind Peach reveals the smoke's source: mephits inhaling through pumice stones (Peach: "Watch it guys, some delinquents are up here smoking rocks."). With a little friendly communal smoke with Fish the little elementals are happy to share a bit of local info. The firenewts are up to something, forging gear for an offensive of some sort. There's a shrine of theirs nearby, and there's something they covet here. Hmm. What are they up to?

​

The gang presses forward. Somewhere, very nearby, some newts need murderin' to appease a new star actor.

​

Like an unnoticed flea Krenko climbs the dorsal spikes of the dinosaur-like mountain of malformed god essence, squinting for a better look. Odilon's Shrine - the stone lizardfolk statue that stands even taller than the partial 'Ubtao' - is closing in from the southeast at full speed. Arnie's Flying Helper cruises by its side, a trio of Handy Hand pilots operating the shrine.

​

Peach's voice booms forth. "ETA 5 MINUTES. GET READY!"

​

Artus and Fotari plan to enchant the airship's weapons while Dragonbait and the crew bombard. The walking shrine thrums with ghostly energy, the dead eager to defend their homeland from the ravenous monster headed towards the Bakumora's centers of civilization. Nakam commands a stone arm straight outward, Arnie using vines to strap into the open palm 'cave' of the right hand. Trees crush underneath as Peach powers the legs forward, and minutes later the former Uluu Thalongh notices its pursuer. It turns, tail lashing, and with a deafening roar bellows a challenge.

​

The Rumble in the Jungle is ON! (DM: Odilon's Shrine is ostensibly a 3-person mech with its own set of Legendary Actions for the pilots. Stats here. The kaiju is... well, Godzilla. 'Cept this time, Mecha-Godzilla is the good guy. LET THEM FIGHT.)

​

Eye Beams fired by Bertram connect as monstrosity charges forward, not slowing the slightest to dodge Krenko's cloud of daggers or Arnie's insect plague. Nakam's triggered Rocket Fist goes wide though another Eye Beam hits just as the 100-foot monster slams into the shrine. Claws, spikes, and tail shred into the walking statue in a flurry yet Odilon's Shrine holds its own! Teeth each the size of a person sink into the shrine's shoulder and hold tight as Arnie's Flying Helper circles, a volley of elementally-charged catapult and ballista munitions hailing upon the beast.

​

Swinging the statue's huge stone tail around Peach knocks the massive beast off of them and levels a broad section of forest in the process, Nakam launching another Rocket Punch once at range. Not one to let not being in a giant mech suit stop him, Krenko swings into action... literally! Elastic whip Kubazan's Reach wrapped around the monster's head horns, the bard-barian-ificer swings in front of its eyes slashing. The flea is noticed! Giant clawed hands fail to find the nuisance however, and the distraction opens for the statue's pilots to pummel freely. 

​

"TALK TO THE HAND!", Arnie shouts from the right palm, his high level harm connecting. The malformed behemoth pulses in response, its ability to drain life shriveling the jungle below in a large radius and hitting all inside the statue. A flying kick initiated by Peach misses and the shrine flies by the monster. The monstrosity turns, sees Arnie's Flying Helper lined up directly behind its rival... and its dorsal spikes begin to glow from tail to head.

 

The mouth opens: SHOOOOOOOOOOMMM!

​

A golden radiant blast slams the statue and its occupants reel! The airship is hit by the arc, the forward third of the hull shattering. Multiple bodies plummet to the jungle below as one of the four hot air balloons shreds and lilts the entire vessel.

​

"CAPTAINS!", First Mate Gorjok's voice shouts from Bertram's Sending Stone. "Ship critical! Men overboard!"

​

"Get out of here, Gorjok!", Bertram responds, thinking of friends and family aboard. "Protect the ship! Find any survivors!" The historian doesn't have to ask twice. The airship pulls away from the brawl, its crew initiating emergency repairs.

​

The chaos isn't much better within the shrine. A panicked handyman disentangles himself from vine handholds to craw up the arm tunnel, barely alive. Bertram, Nakam, and Peach were at least shielded from the worst of it. Exposed as he was and with the symbiote called Toom's Ooze inside his body, without death ward that would have been the end of Arnie! The trio of pilots respond with a flurry of blows from the statue as Krenko swings again. This time he isn't so lucky: huge claws snatch him out of the air and go to shove him into its mouth. The ex-gladiator is well experienced in escaping grapples, however, and soon Krenko is using his custom parachute to drift away into the sky.

​

It buys Bertram the opening he needs. Stone on stone grinds as the mouth of Odilon's Shrine opens and: SHOOOOOM in return! A spectral vomit of angry ghosts pour forth and rapidly rot the flesh on the former Uluu Thalongh. Eye Beams, Rocket Punch, and Tail Swipe all hit in rapid succession and their titanic foe staggers back.

 

The malformed dino-god's eyes narrow in realization that faces an equal rival before it collects itself, roars, and pounces. Slamming with full force into Odilon's Shrine, the statue tumbles over! Nakam decks it in the jaw as it rips into the shrine's chest, Arnie struggling to not be thrown across interior chambers as he death wards himself once again. Sensing a recharge of lizardfolk spirits Bertram lets loose the necromantic retch, right into the monster's face! It steps back in surprise, buying time for Peach to stand the shrine back up into battle position.

 

"Arnie!", Nakam shouts to the nearby handyman, green and purple vines receding to sever his statue interface. "Take the pilot's seat, I'm going in!" Blow after massive blow are exchanged between the colossal combatants as the paladin sprints down the arm tunnel, chunks of stone and scale falling to the forest below. The monstrosity's ability to siphon life is taking its toll, however. Without the airship's support a changeup in strategy is needed.

​

Meanwhile Kubazan's Reach elongates through the air and connects to the monster's thigh, an airborne Krenko lassoing himself back into the fight! Biting and stabbing into iron-hard flesh he climbs back up, evading Peach's swinging stone tail and taking a couple of nasty claw swipes along the way though maintaining grip.

 

"KRENKO!", Bertram's voice booms through the statue. "INCOMING!" A third ghost breath blasts from above, missing the crocodilian by only 10 feet or so before immobile stone arms start to move once again.

​

Arnie flexes. The statue flexes. Welcome to the party Arnie!,  Bertram says in their their mind-melded pilot thought. Guys, this feels AMAZING!, he responds, punching the proto-god with one hand while extending out the other. From a shoulder spike Krenko watches Nakam leap from the palm, soaring through the air to grab a spike on the opposite side of the beast and hang on for dear life. Time to take this colossus down!

​

Krenko repeatedly stabs on one side as Nakam slashes on the other, claymore glowing with divine energy. The beast roars at the grievous smite before raking claws down the paladin's back, horribly wounding Nakam. Rage surging, the creature's dorsal spikes glow with radiance once more: SHOOOOOM! Another devastating blast to the shrine, and another draining pulse! Peach and Bertram take the worst of it and can only watch as Nakam's limp form plummets to the ruined canopy below. Worse still their psychic connection to Arnie is lost and stone arms stop moving. Arnie's bleeding out!

​

Hedging her bets that the incomplete god is staying close to brawl, Peach detaches from the pelvic interface. "Hold on Arnie, I'm coming!", she yells, setting the tail to swipe once more before sprinting up the spinal column staircase.

 

No legs. No arms. Arnie and Nakam both down. Airship nowhere near. Only Bertram and Krenko remain engaged yet both are severely hurt. Like two prize fighters refusing to give up in the 20th round, the gigantic bleeding monstrosity and badly crumbling stone statue stand toe to toe. Krenko is out of the info loop but he knows things are grim. With all his might the bard-barian-ificer tears with his teeth to remove a large chunk of proto-god flesh before Bertram's voice booms.

​

"GHOSTS CHARGED. GET OUT OF THERE!" He doesn't need to ask twice. Krenko leaps and uses his last charge of Kubazan's Reach to grab an unmoving statue arm, the force of torrential ghosts from behind propelling him forward.

​

The monstrosity defiantly roars as the vomit of necrotic energy burns into its head. Roar turns to screech as its face melts to the skull. The eyes of Odilon glow bright, dual Eye Beams blast forth once more, and screech turns to scream. The shriek climbs in pitch, the colossal dinosaur-like form goes slack, and like a falling building its body crushes to the ground.

​

What was once the Uluu Thalongh lies still. The tuneless whistle - barely a whisper - is heard one final time, then fades.

​

Rainbow hues of raw primordial magic dissipate from the fallen giant fallen, but attention is elsewhere. Quick action by Peach saves the handyman, but Bertram's rapid dimension door to the forest floor finds nothing. Where is Nakam?! Peach and Arnie soon fly to where Bertram is pushing ferns aside... and the unbreathing body of Nakam is found underneath.

​

"Arnie, please!", begs Peach. "We can't lose another!"

​

The handyman sighs, touching Nakam to cast gentle repose. "I'm sorry guys. That's all I can do today. I'll try tomorrow."

​

The massive dinosaur-like creature - fragments of a deity that grew unchecked to become something else entirely - decay almost as if in time lapse. Color spectrums of primordial energy dissipate, but something above draws focus: blue sky. The mists are parting! A high-pitched hoot from a waving saurial aboard a severely damaged airship approaching from the rear draws attention back, giant skeletal hand dropping on chain as a winged t-rex glides down.

​

"MOMMY! You're safe!", Cobbler exclaims. The sentient dino looks down. "What happened to Nakam....oh no."

​

"I hate to kill the moment, but Dragonbait's right!", Artus yells down. "This is our window out of here. We need to split!"

​

There's no arguments. With Ubtao's aspects no longer tying the Bakumora to the Material Plane, it will soon separate into a Domain of Dread. All aboard and make haste to beat the mists! With five passengers were lost, Sheila barely alive, and the airship threatening to fall apart they leave. It should hold together well enough to arc near Bluefeather Roost and Kayebo on the way towards the border. Chieftain Voshk and the shaman Ouida are the first to depart. The lizardfolk chieftain bows.

 

"We would eat you.", Voshk grumbles. "We would eat all of you." Arnie knows its a term of respect, but its still odd to hear. An hour later the airship nears Kayebo. Offer to resurrect Nakam declined, Treespeaker Fotari turns to the others.

​

"These Dark Powers have marked me. It is a fate I do not run from as I have much to pay for. My people, though. And the lizardfolk tribes...", the spiritual leader trails off. The Handy Hands know. The mists are already closing back in. What can their small group with a half-busted ship do to save an entire region of peoples from being trapped in a Domain of Dread?

 

Fotari hands his staff over. "Take this as a memory of who I was before corruption. I will save who I can in Kayebo. No matter what becomes of them or myself, know that the Bakumora will always remember those who tried to save them." 

​

And with that, the newest Dreadlord departs, and Chult's weirdest adventuring crew speeds for the border. Two hours later they near where they first entered the region, blood-red rivers and freakish villages below. The mists are clearly closing. Eager to break away from the Material Plane and hold its captives dear, long fingers of fog seem to grasp at the airship. 

​

"All hands on deck, and hold on!", shouts Gorjok from the wheel. "We're need to push through!"

​

Each feels it. A tugging at both the body and mind. No. Stay., the mist almost seems to whisper. It tears at their psyches as much as it tears at the ship, Arnie's Flying Helper creaking and tilting as hasty repairs start to come apart. The deck cracks, threatening to rip the ship in two! With one final surge forward the dense fog finally parts and...

​

Birds chirp. Distant dinosaurs call to each other. A beating sun heats the familiar humid air of Chult. Before them the Valley of Dread stretches into the horizon. And to their rear, the mists are gone. 

​

*         *         *

​

Two days later in a defendable clearing, repairs are going well. Sheila is recuperating. Krenko was found passed out below deck in a euphoric bliss after tasting 'God Meat'. The blood loss may have been speaking, but he was blissful nonetheless. 

​

Most importantly Arnie's ritual to raise a friend was without a hitch. Twice now the Handy Hands have seen their changeling friend change into another person when unconscious or dead then immediately shift into 'Nakam' upon revival, but it isn't a question to pry. They're just happy to have him back. Feygllyb too - the griffon nuzzling his companion upon summon. 

​

Artus reads the tablet that he, Krenko, and Bertram worked hard to decrypt."So shall we hide our maze between shadow and light - Our people safe from sundering, undeath, and plight." He grins. "I knew it! The real Mezro is out there! But where?  'Between shadow and light'? What does it mean? How can we find it?"

​

It sounds interplanar to Bertram, though more mysteries and demiplanes are the least of what they need after this harrowing adventure. For now, a long (and hopefully) peaceful flight back to Port Nyanzaru is what they need.

​

And thankfully it is. A home returned to is not a mess for a change. Mists have risen and retreated. A part of Chult is gone, but the Handy Hands did what they could and held their moral standards true. Tonight they sleep long and peacefully.

​

​

(Level 17 achieved! The booty is extensive. A sentient sword, a powerful staff, magical teeth of strong yet dubious abilities, a tome of strength, Samarachian history books for days... and even a recipe for truth-compelling pancakes! The story of Mezro is one of interest as well as the machinations of the yuan-ti in Ubtao's absence. For now, though? There's paradise to enjoy.)​​

​

Feygllyyb squeezes his bird-lion bulk through the hidden halls to the library having retrieved Peach and Treespeaker Fotari at Nakam's behest. Looking outside to see what the rest of the Handy Hands are agape at, eyes grow wide.

​

"That... that cannot be Ubtao!", Fotari exclaims. Before them the dinosaur-like proto-god stands grasping the central mage tower of Votaran. It inhales again, coalesced planar energy surges from tower to monster. Leathery skin turns increasingly craggy. Iron-like spikes protrude further. Even the size of it increases noticeably. "It is growing further. It must be stopped!"

​

"That's the plan.", Krenko says, not wasting any time prepping his weapons. "Gotta go fast! Nakam?"

​

"On it.", the paladin replies. One wave later and Krenko glows with haste, Nakam mounting to follow. "Ready? GO!"

​

In a blur the former goblin is OFF! Seconds before the huge creature can notice it has visitors Krenko is halfway across inner Votaran. He slashes into its side with the trusty organic whip Kubazan's Reach before using it to ascend to the thing's head like a reverse zip line just as a trio of Peach's rapid fire arrows hit. Rather than turning the monstrosity inhales energy off of the mage tower, then pulses. Wounds heal, spikes multiply and elongate, skin further hardens, the great beast grows a few feet larger, and the air takes on a chill that cuts Krenko, Nakam, and his griffon to the bone. Only then does the creature roar indignantly, the ground shaking as three giant trees in the courtyard animate with hostile intent.

​

"BURN, dino-plant!", shouts Arnie, his fireball ember streaking across the air. The explosion encompasses much of the monster's feet... to no effect. Not a single scorch on its hide. "Um. Fire's a no go, guys!"

​

"Let's hope ice doesn't fail like last time!", says Artus, Ring of Winter glowing on his hand. Ice shards form a snowman of sorts in front of the closest animated tree but it hardly lasts a moment. Sparkling with energy like the Uluu Thalongh and rage storm once did, the tree brings down a limb to utterly smash the icy form. Dragonbait moves into defensive position as the other two trees lash out with thrown spikes of pure concussive force. These are no normal trees!

​

Offense needed, Bertram and Fotari get to work cutting the trees apart as things get vicious up front. Distraction by Krenko opens for a nasty critical from Nakam, a beard of feathers inexplicably growing on his face. Right! Unstable magic here! A courtyard away a flash of flame erupts over all three animated trees, yet once again... nothing.

​

The handyman howls over his failed flame strike. "Ahhhh! So ANGRY! It makes me wanna RAGE!", Arnie shouts, his skin transitioning into a metallic appearance. Unstable magic providing surprising options, Arnie turns into a highly durable steel version of himself just when a tank is needed in the backline. This'll work!

​

Meanwhile, another draining pulse. Trees nearby the monstrosity shrivel and wilt along with Nakam and Krenko, the creature once again growing and mending as it sucks in the tower's focal energy. The paladin manages a rolling landing as Feygllyyb  poofs out of existence.

​

"This isn't working!", Fotari yells between blasting trees. "We need to cut it off from its source!" Handing Peach his staff the shaman shifts form into a triceratops and charges forward towards the mage tower. Bertram, Artus, and Dragonbait do their best to fend off the trees, but its becoming increasingly clear that they're the distraction to the main event.

​

The sight of Krenko forcing his way into the monster's mouth seems inexplicable, but it's cold goblin logic. Can't bite it in one spot? Try a softer spot! His whip cuts into the thing's palette but roiling digestive fluids make him think twice about his location. A shake of the maraca for some bonus hit points, he starts looking for a way back out as third draining pulse hits.

​

Another growth in size and density! The monster now towers well over 90 feet. It's getting harder and harder to pierce its hide, let alone outpace self-repair! The pulse at least re-absorbed one of the three trees, presenting an opening.

​

"Peach! Going in! Coming?", Artus says, flashing a dagger with a glowing blue hilt. The bard shakes her head and casts irresistible dance on the closest tree to back up safely, the ranger instead running forward to extricate Dragonbait. The duo warp out and back into existence next to Nakam and- wait. Is that a potted plant? Dragonbait made it. Is that Artus? Dang!

​

"Arnie! Hold on!", shouts Bertram. Metal skin or not the handyman looks rough after taking a beating. Darting around the tree smashing Arnie the historian grabs him to dimension door far to the courtyard's other side. Yet again the weave distorts, Bertram falling over tied shoulder to ankle in coils of rope. Dang again! At least he didn't become a potted plant? Another flurry of Peach's arrows plus another smite-charged critical from Nakam are enough to distract, buying Krenko the moment he needs to force his way out from between gargantuan teeth and skitter down iron-like spikes. 

​

Fotari's triceratops form slams into the mage tower and cracks the foundation, but it's not enough. Too little, too late. With one final inhale the living manifestation of rage and hunger drains the mage tower beyond structural capacity. The tower cracks. The massive creature swells to over 100 feet tall. The iron spikes start to glow down its spine, and-

​

"RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

​

A golden beam blasts from its mouth to part the mists for just a moment before: *FOOM*! The shockwave throws most to the ground. 'Feeding tube' of a mage tower exhausted, the mountain-sized proto-god turns... and starts back towards the Bakumora. Arnie dodges to put up a blade barrier that is simply walked right through, unstable magic unfortunately detonating him point blank in a fireball along with Bertram (DM: Hey, at least it fried the ropes.). Helping each other up the gang slides down the rubble in pursuit, Bluefeather Clan members joining at the edge of Votaran's plateau.

​

"GORJOK! Rapid evac!" Bertram yells into his Sending Stone. "We need to follow that god-monster!"

​

With massive steps it crushes down the mountainside, reaching the edge of the forest and continuing on. Nothing stands in the way of the hundred foot colossal mutant monster from devouring an entire demiplane of jungle and its communities.

​

Or does there? The ground shakes. To the not-too-distant north another giant shape is seen moving at the base of the Sanrach Mountains. An equally-colossal... stone lizard man? Is that Odilon's Shrine? The old Bluefeather shaman cackles. "Ah ha hah! The stories were true!", Ouida yells. "Odilon rises! Odilon rises to defend the Bakumora!"

 

Yet something isn't quite right. The temple in the shape of a lizardfolk hero has indeed stood up and is wading through the jungle, but doesn't appear to have a trajectory. Like a rudderless ship it drifts, lumbering in a giant circle.

​

Peach looks around. "Where's Krenko? Did he make it out?". Except for clan members there isn't a lizardfolk in sight. They can only hope with his speed that Krenko is chasing the thing. No time to search further - airship's here. Let's roll!

​

Friends new and old join aboard Arnie's Flying Helper, the airship's sails fill to the brim, and the chase is on! The distant mutant monster is obvious to all as well as the wide berth of destruction in its wake. Soon a glowing illusion of a desperate-looking Krenko is seen above the ruin: the crazy bastard is on the monster! Hopefully he's handling himself alone for now.

​

"I'm useless. It's hopeless!", laments Arnie. "My fire spells do nothing, Krenko is gonna die again, and there's no way for us to stop that thing from eating the world! I bet even my breakfast cooking is horrible and you guys are too nice to say it!"

​

A hand is felt on his shoulder. "Captain Arnie, I don't know about giant monsters but I think you've turned into a fine chef.", says Bill the cook. "Cumin on pancakes was a choice, but a true food artist always commits. I think you've got this, too!"

​

"Really?" The handyman sniffs. A phobia of albino dwarves ever since coming to Chult, and here's one truly appreciating him. It's a good feeling, despite the current situation! He hugs the cook, and perhaps a year-long fear has started mending.

​

Meanwhile Bertram, Peach, and Ouida come to a realization. The vine network in Odilon's Shrine: it resembled a nervous system! Perhaps at one time the temple's priests could control the statue, yet now no priests remain and the temple's spirits fell to the Domain of Dread's corruption. No wonder the giant shrine is mindlessly circling. It needs a mind! If they could figure out how to 'pilot' it it'd be a mighty tool to fight a 100-foot hangry proto-god.

 

Gorjok! Change of plans! Reroute to Odilon's Shrine! After another distant illusion confirms Krenko is alive for now, the airship speeds due north. Wounds are mended, gear is readied, and near an hour later they find themselves flying at head level of the lizardfolk statue as it repeatedly circles a quarter mile path.

​

"HELLO THERE! WALKING TEMPLE!?", Bertram shouts from the ship's deck. No response.

 

Feygllyyb re-summoned on the flight over, Nakam buzzes by the lizardfolk statue's face. Closed eyes, closed mouth, still no response. The hands and feet though, they still bear the open passageways of the shrine in sitting position. Dismounting on a shoulder he starts to slowly climb down an arm - easier said than done when the climbing surface is moving! Soon he is at the hand and climbing in yet Arnie, swinging on Manos, is having a harder time catching up.

​

To Peach's enhanced vision there is more going on: Odilon's Shrine utterly swarming with spirits. It's powered by the ghosts they gave peace days before! It gives her an idea. She mounts her geetar to hover in front of the statue's face.

​

"Hi there.", she waves, addressing the swirling spirits. "It's awfully rude not to respond. Y'all remember? It's us! The ones who helped you! If you'd kindly open up, we think we can help you save the Bakumora from that big scary monster!"

​

It's more emotions than words in reply but Peach feels their agreement. Giant stone jaws part, old corpse of the priest they had spoken to days ago falls out, and the bard flies right in. Bertram follows on his broom and the two climb the shrine's spinal staircase to once again look upon a meditative dais where green and purple finds converge. That's right. There were three spots like this: head, torso, and pelvis. Who will try this one?

​

Peach defers to the historian. "Well... here goes nothing.", Bertram says, nervously approaching. The moment he sits cross-legged on the dais vines grow towards him, densely wrapping and securing him to the floor. His eyes roll back, white.

​

"Bertram, buddy? You okay?", asks Peach.

​

"I SEE EVERYTHING.", Bertram's voice booms... not from him, but from the statue itself. Huge stone eyelids open on the chamber's far wall as Bertram takes control above the neck. "TWO MORE TO FULLY CONTROL. PEACH? NAKAM?"

​

Crawling up the inside of the swinging stone arm a couple floors below Nakam finds Odilon's burial chamber, the titular decrepit mummy himself sitting up in his sarcophagus once again. The vibe is different, though. Before the dead folk hero was angry and restless. Now he's just... confused. Lost. Peach jogs down the spinal staircase to see the scene.

​

"You got this one?", she asks. Nakam gives a thumbs up and she continues downward.

​

The paladin hesitates a moment then moves forward to sit on the meditation dais beside the sarcophagus. Vines grow, the mummy turns. Is that a hint of a smile on its dusty face? Senses rapidly shift and Nakam finds himself towering above the jungle, mammoth stone arms under his control. He plucks a tree whole from the forest, tossing it, feeling power course through him. Nakam!, he hears. It's me, Bertram! Do you feel it? Our minds are connected!

​

Time to get this thing on track. The bard runs down the bottom-most chamber in the statue's 'pelvis', final meditation dais on the edge of a mass grave of followers of Odilon's ways. The hive mind is joined, Peach lashes her stone tail as long as their airship, and takes control of the legs. Arnie is helped over by Feygllyyb just in time to hear the voice boom again.

​

"I'LL FORM THE ARMS!", echoes Nakam's voice above the treetops.

​

"I'LL FORM THE HEAD!", Bertram's voice responds from up above.

​

"AND I'LL FORM THE DICK!", Peach calls from the crotch. The body turns, thundering towards the beast on the horizon.

​

*         *         *

​

*BOOM*. *BOOM*. *BOOM*.

 

Krenko grips on huge tail spikes as the gargantuan creature stomps forward, no more aware of him than a flea on a dog. All he can do is hang on for dear life as it crushes forward towards the more populated areas of the Bakumora. At least he can finally say he tasted a god, risking an unnoticed nibble and feeling a colorful tingling sensation wash over his body.

​

He does worry, though. He hopes they saw his illusions. He hopes they catch up. Even then, then what? After another life-drain pulse thankfully muted by his Ring of Resistance he works his way up spinal spikes to a better view above the tree line.

​

There's a moment of despair when no airship is seen following their route... but something moves to the east. Something just as big as the malformed mutant. Is that Odilon's Shrine? And is that Arnie's Flying Helper flying escort near its head?

 

The crocodilian pumps his fist into the sky and the story's frame freezes. The cavalry is on the way, and the cavalry is HUGE!

​

Much-needed sleep is had as the airship tracks the path of the mutated Uluu Thalongh through the night. Always a morning person Arnie is up before the rest, looking on in satisfaction at the stolen rugs laid out on the deck. Delicate on the feet yet apocalyptic cult imagery? Jim approves!​

​

Soon after the others awake the nightly report is relayed. Gorjok flew low as Sheila, Dragonbait, and Artus surveyed the destruction. The wide trail of blighted vegetation and dead animals meandered south until reaching the Redbark Clan of lizardfolk, their village within an ancient cedar stump now a blasted-apart ruin. From there northeast to what they now fly over, where another village had been consumed.

​

"And then there's that.", finishes Artus, pointing between where the creature's path enters and exits the village. Dragonbait concurs, noting the same trend on his watch at the Redbark tree: the path is wider.

​

"It's getting bigger.", Bertram mutters. "A lot bigger. I can only assume its looking for more food. We need to cut this thing off and deal with it before it becomes too large to deal with."

​

Artus points to where the wide path of ruin heads southeast towards distant mountains. "Good news, bad news! I have a really good idea where it's heading next. It's where D.B. and I were headed before all of this. A place called Votaran."

​

Votaran? It doesn't even sound Chultan. Artus starts to explain, then stops himself, backing up his story further. Long looking to prove his theory that Mezro isn't the real Mezro, a couple of months ago he found a tantalizing clue hidden in plain sight. A prominent statue of Mezro's senior bara, King Osaw, bears an inscription written in the script of Nimbral. The secretive hermit magocracy that hides itself with powerful illusions, but does have a vassal state they trade through: Samarach, the country bordering Chult to the southeast. A Samarachian border outpost called Votaran has been the goal this whole time. If Artus could translate his tablet rubbing there, finding the true Mezro may be possible!

​

The rest of the story is known. Fotari's deeds and the Bakumora separating from reality was entirely unforeseen, next thing you know Artus is frozen in ice, some crocodile cult shares their visions, and a couple weeks later the Handy Hands arrive.

​

"Oh. Read this out loud, please? Shaman Uzoma of Kayebo said it'd help find Votaran." Artus hands Bertram a scroll written in sparkling ink. Like the tablet rubbing the script makes sense to his eyes, but this one actually has spellcasting words that make sense. What does it do? Let's find out! Bertram incants, and all watch as a golden sparkling line of dots appear in the forest below, winding in the distance up the sheer face of the Samrach Mountains where a distant fort nestled between peaks shimmers into view. Votaran. And sure enough, the destruction bee-lines straight to it. Good news bad news indeed!

​

The course is set. Two hours to Votaran. Just enough time to enjoy some coffee and pancakes! Arnie's newest batch of is cumin flavored. It was... a choice. The flavor can mostly be drowned out by dousing it with toppings from the galley, Nakam finds. Krenko and Bertram take initial attempts at the coding on Artus' tablet rubbing when the Living Pouch opens, the oddest looking tuning fork emerging, note from Wakanga wrapped around the handle: 

​

'Took a few days, my fine junior curator. Fascinating design! No idea where it’s from,
no care to risk finding out. Have fun! P.S. - Sorry that I squished your soggy stick baby thing.'

​

Well, Bertram did request one. With three settings and no idea what they do, future uses of the tuning fork for plane shift are both terrifying and wildly intriguing. Too bad about that thorn blight. A loud voice from up on deck interrupts thought.

​

"Captains!", Sheila shouts. "You may want to come see this!"

​

Votaran looms closer than before, but the Uluu Thalongh's ruinous path right up the mountainside is actually the lesser of worrisome features. Half the sky is an utter mess of chaos. Patchy Bakumora mists swirl into dismal greys then shift into warm pastel colors and back again, like the world's weirdest aurora borealis. An explosion of pure black turns into a long dragon-like form, which exists only long enough to emit a roar before *FOOMP!*, it explodes into a flock of vibrant otherworldly birds, which then vanish entirely.  

​

"Ooh, pretty! Imagine if we could intro our stage shows like this!", exclaims Arnie. Krenko claps excitedly.

​

"Guys... that was home. The Feywild! Well, for a moment.", says Peach. Bertram agrees conversely: it was the Shadowfell before that moment. Just beyond Votaran they see, well... nothing. The Bakumora ends. Nothing seems to exist beyond except the chaotic swirl of planar energies. Seems the planes aren't too happy about this Domain of Dread attempting to leave, either. Whatever the Uluu Thalongh will be consuming up there at the edge, it can't be good!

​

Purple lightning and random phenomena posing unknown risks, plans are made for Arnie's Flying Helper to linger at a safe distance with Peach and Fotari on recon duty while a ground team airdrops in. After an inexplicable sandstorm passes, the call is made. It's go time!

 

"I've always wanted to try this. Arnie, put this on!", says Krenko, climbing on to the ship's mangonel with his friend. Without warning Sheila throws the lever and the duo arcs through the air, Arnie screaming as Nakam and Bertram soar off the ship on their respective flying mounts. Moments before impact Krenko triggers parachutes to deploy, feather fall softly dropping the pair outside Votaran's gates. With a *thunk* the mangonel launches again, two more screams, and soon Artus and Dragonbait land nearby, the ranger looking spooked while the saurial gives Krenko a high five.

​

But something's wrong after that spell. The former goblin shakes his hand. It feels... off. His musical ability has entirely left him! He panics as the others test out their cantrips, finding the magic flaring erratically no matter the spell. Thankfully Krenko's sensation comes back (DM: He had lost all proficiencies for a minute.) but one thing is sure: magic is unpredictable this close to the edge of reality. They best watch themselves.

​

"Hello? Anyone home?", Bertram calls at the gate. No response. Just a familiar rushing wind. Looking inside finds Votaran a mess. What Artus had described as a well-guarded outpost is now largely destroyed... and recently, too. The planar chaos just beyond the fort may have originated with the Bakumora separating months ago, but this was something else. 

​

Massive footsteps, crushed buildings, fresh ghosts lurking on the edges of perception... Nakam has no trouble sorting it out. Votaran fell to the creature. What's disconcerting are the bodies found in the rubble: they appear drained and shriveled despite suffering recent deaths. Uluu Thalongh, hunger-plus-rage, 'Ubtao', whatever one wishes to call this thing, it's clear that its here to eat. Wall of wind much like that at the temple blocking progression, the Handy Hands scratch their heads.

​

"HEY!" A familiar elderly voice shouts from the doorway of the one building left standing in the lower courtyard. Is that Ouida of the Bluefeather Clan? "Best get inside, hear? Come! Get in!"

​

They're not ones to shirk an invite! Inside what must have been a customs house a small brigade of Bluefeather lizardfolk look just as surprised to see the Handy Hands as they do them. Chieftain Voshk welcomes the familiar guests who he shared meat with, but confesses confusion. After the gang recites their recent story, he and Ouida explain that they were inspecting the Handy Hands' work at Odilon's Shrine when something massive tore through the woods. They tracked it to Votaran, and that about catches things up in timeline. But now what to do?

​

The old reptilian shaman grins. "Luckily old Ouida been here many time in her youth! Samarach soldiers and mages, they would go up and down in hidden ways. Maybe you find a way beyond the wind, eh?"

​

Indeed Krenko does! After a bit of collective searching the crocodilian finds a mirror in a collapsed basement with a curious inscription: 'Light and Shadow reflect. Find your dark companion.' Quickly Nakam and Arnie find out that their shadows are only in the mirror, yet everyone else has no shadow in the mirror. Similar groups of shadowed and non-shadowed grouping together, the mirror raises and the wall behind splits open. Success! 

 

"There you are. Stay put this time!", says Arnie upon finding his shadow again, upset that it had left. 

​

Bluefeather Clan guarding the rear, the gang proceeds. The simple utilitarian hallway heads to an abandoned and intact arcanist's laboratory. Krenko excitedly works with Nakam to shovel as much useful lab gear they can into the Portable Hole as Bertram's eyes wander the chamber. What's with the neat sword with the dragon-shaped hilt mounted on the wall like it was a broom? Oddly out of place. The historian reaches up to grab it and a voice suddenly fills his mind.

​

Some great BEAST dwells outside! Brave knight! To ARMS! Let us go SLAY it for the realm! The psychic conversation goes on for a while, Bertram appearing simply lost in thought staring at the sword. In his mind, however, the darn thing won't shut up. COME, hero! CHARGE into battle and-

​

Bertram, I've severed its connection for now., Agamaya says. That sword is... a lot. The historian nods. Indeed it is! A magical talking sword though. That surely has some use, even if annoying. Now, where do the stairs out here go? Up the gang goes, where much to the delight of many they find a small arcane library. History and knowledge for days!

​

"This is awesome and all, guys, but...", Nakam says, motioning to where rushing winds and the rumble of a massive beast shake the stained glass windows. "We've literally got a MUCH bigger priority!"

​

"Yeah...", Artus drawls. "I know. But this info is the entire reason D.B. and I came to the Bakumora. What do you say? Smash and loot now, fight the God Monster, read later?"

 

It's a happy compromise. Nakam pokes his head into the Portable Hole. Room for four sorted bookshelves, perhaps? Ready? SPEED LOOT! Of course Bertram shovels in the entire 'History' section. Arnie goes for the 'Culture'... you never know where new pancake recipes may be! 'Conjuration' thrown in for good measure on top of Artus' pick of 'Illusions', after half a campaign they find themselves with a Portable Hole entirely filled to the brim. Meanwhile Krenko finds the Head Librarian's personal stash and a clearly magical book with an animated flexing man on it. Strong reading? Excellent!

​

"Gah!", Bertram exclaims, accidentally touching a furry hat with a face still on it. "Arnie, I think we found you a new hat."

​

The handyman gasps. "I LOVE IT!", he swoons, instantly identifying it and putting it on. It's a Zorbo Skin Hat! Sure, it's a fur hat with a drop bear's face sneering on it, but it hardens your skin to be more durable. Neat! "And I found these over here. Shall we take them too?", he says, pointing to a glass case with two magical teeth in it.

​

Sure. Why not? One crack of Arnie's wrench on the glass and- *FOOMPH*! Nakam looks up from sorting the Hole. Why is Bertram surrounded by chimpanzees? One with a pirate hat, one with a tropical shirt, one that smells funny... oh. Welp. The warlock isn't able to do much about it but thankfully the paladin also resisted joining the Ape Army. This is a walk in the park for Cleansing Touch, and he has just enough uses to restore all to normal. Now then. What was Artus was saying?

​

"You all really need to see this. It ain't good.", the ranger says, squinting close to the stained glass.

 

The library's exit is slowly opened to risk a clearer look. Eyes close as winds rush in, then go wide at the beauty and madness beyond. The inner courtyard of Votaran is blocked to the right, but to the left? Beyond the gate into Samarach the world just... ends. It isn't a cliff. It isn't even the open starscape of space. It's simply nothing. The edge of reality.

 

Above it the sky swirls with the chaos of the planes, bleeding into each other in an ever-changing kaleidoscope of the raw energy that makes up the realms of the multiverse. The large mage tower that is the central to Votaran is acting as a conduit, planar energy coalescing and funneling down it... into the largest creature they've seen this side of an ancient dragon turtle. 

 

Easily over 70 feet tall, spikes and iron-like scales over it's mutant dinosaur-like form, the entity formerly known as the Uluu Thalongh inhales deeply. Spikes grow longer. The thing visibly grows even bigger. How does one stop a hangry proto-god?

​

The winds of the magical hurricane rush above. As much as they would love to stop whatever Fotari was feeding from having even a moment to grow stronger, at least a small rest is much needed by the Handy Hands to bandage wounds.

​

Retreating half a floor away talk turns to collective revelations. The Trickster Gods, the storm above, the Uluu Thalongh, whatever was lurking in Col's dreams, even the animal spirits trapped within Eshowe... all shared a prismatic otherworldly energy that defies categorization within the magical weave of the world. 

​

"Some believe Ubtao did not truly leave us.", contributes Fotari. "In wishing people to walk their own Maze of Life, I believe he became the path. Ubtao did not leave Chult. Ubtao became Chult - fracturing himself across the land. I still believe this to be true. But I also believe I made a grave error. In my grief and desperation, I mistook one part for the whole."

​

Finally it clicks. If Ubtao is a Primordial - a godlike being from beyond - then his divine nature would be as primal as his origin. The rainbow-like 'primordial' magic glow has been seen in entities all portraying a facet of personality. Kubazan was bravery. Obo'laka was anxiety, Moa was kindness... the list goes on. If Fotari is correct then they are parts of a conceivable whole: fractured parts of a divine being. Aspects of Ubtao! The Uluu Thalongh is always eating, never satiated. Is it Ubtao's hunger? If all this is true then the storm above would be Ubtao's fury. Rage incarnate. And Fotari has been feeding it.

​

"I must help end this, if you permit.", says Fotari. "I may be damned, but we can still help this land and its people."

​

Agamaya speaks in Bertram's mind. He speaks true, Bertram. The Dark Powers form Domains of Dread with a Dreadlord and their surroundings. But the people of the Bakumora are simply victims. The historian concurs.

​

"Well that settles it.", says Peach, standing up. "Let's go reap the whirlwind!"

​

The stairs to the ziggurat's apex are cautiously ascended, the Handy Hands emerging to find themselves at the epicenter of a vortex. Winds blackened with debris and heavy rain spin around the square roof of the Temple of Omi Keyoka, a vertical cylinder of lesser intensity stretching up to grey skies above. They are within the eye of a magical hurricane... and they're not alone. Between flashes of lightning a shape is seen, half of the storm yet half distinct. Ubtao's Rage awaits.

 

"What are you doing?", Bertram asks Krenko, turning to see the crocodile-man in the middle of stripping naked.

​

The bard-barian-ificer shrugs. "Gonna sacrifice myself. We need bait!"

​

"You can't die again Krenko!", Arnie panics. "I... we can't lose you another time!"

​

"Don't worry.", responds Krenko. "We got this!" 

 

A naked lizard-man wielding only a maraca and a shield climbing upon a sacrificial altar in attempt to punch a hurricane may not make sense in most stories. But this is the story of the Handy Hands. And for the Handy Hands, today is a Tuesday.

​

"Hey!", Krenko shouts from the altar, raising his maraca in challenge. "Ubtao! Angry cloud monster! Whatever! EAT ME!"

​

A thunder-like rumble starts low then grows to a roar, the dark whirlwind itself coalescing in part to form something vaguely resembling a massive pterafolk. Motes of lightning spark in cloudy eye sockets as the roar turns to a shriek, and it dives!

​

With honed reflexes Krenko leaps out of the way of the storm entity's claws and gnashing jaws to smash it up aside the head with his maraca. Howling in fury the solidified cloud channels lightning through the former goblin, grabs tight, and pulls him into the swirling storm! Peach and Bertram give chase firing arrow and eldritch blasts while Nakam follows Dragonbait's lead, the martial duo intentionally leaping into the winds in attempt to spiral closer. 

​

Claws tear into Krenko as arcs of lightning sear inward from cloud to Handy Hands. Arnie does his best to hide with Fotari in the stairwell and pop out as needed - safety at the cost of limited sight. The hurricane surges in speed and the handyman resists where others do not, all but Arnie getting sucked into the storm's cyclone. Moments later the winds push inward, indignantly tossing out Bertram towards the altar as Nakam, Dragonbait, and Peach continue to spin in the sky. 

​

Taking solid hits from others at range yet failing to tear apart Krenko, the pterafolk-like storm entity whirls to face the elf that has been pumping it full of arrows. It rushes forward, crushing into Peach with tearing claws and maw full of lightning. She's quickly down and bleeding out! Standing up, Bertram sprints for the ziggurat's edge towards Peach and the rage storm as Nakam soars in with the current, yet it's Arnie's long range heal that connects first. The bard comes to consciousness flying sideways in the cyclone, compressed wind a flurry as her friends take an incredibly fast and literal whirlwind assault. 

​

Peach thinks fast. This storm doesn't seem highly intelligent, but perhaps feeblemind will limit it somehow? It works! Sort of! The living hurricane lashes out with huge amounts of damage, but suppressed to a basic instinctual rage its focus is all over the place. Between Nakam, Krenko, Bertram, and Peach, what would have killed one of them is spread thin among many. Winds losing cohesion, Krenko sets Nakam up for victory with a critical smash of his maraca, the paladin immediately following with a flaming King Crab Claymore critical smite, the entity dispersing in a blast that interestingly smells of Old Bay spice. (DM: So many crits! Around every 3rd dice roll for PCs and monster alike was a nat 20 this combat. Wild.)

​

The storm rapidly fades, sky clearing. Riding the winds with an artificer parachute this whole time Krenko lazily floats away into the swamplands while Dragonbait, not quite so prepared, unceremoniously tumbles off the side of the ziggurat. The griffon Feygllyyb soars in to join Nakam as the gang collects their bearings. Atop the Temple of Omi Keyoka a tiny hurricane pulses, hardly the size of a halfling.

​

"It's kind of cute! Should we pick it up?", asks Arnie, emerging with Treespeaker Fotari from the stairs.

​

"Put it in the portable hole, maybe? Bring it along?", suggests Nakam.

​

"A fragment of a god into a pocket dimension. Is that a bad idea or not?", ponders Bertram. He pokes at the tiny storm with mage hand and it moves, swirling in comically small rage. What does one do with a fragment of a god? If Fotari's version of the Ubtao myth is true then the Primordial didn't necessarily intend to come to any partial cohesive form, yet here they are. A great creaking sound distracts as one of Fotari's animate trees from the grove below works its way up the wide staircase, coming to a looming stop atop the temple's apex.

 

The Treespeaker groans as he had before, talking to the big tree. It doesn't respond. He groans again, furrows his brow, then turns to the party. "One of you, then?" The Handy Hands look on in confusion. "No? If not I, who called this tree?"

​

The whistle is a whisper at first but the tuneless sound grows quickly. All present freeze in horror. The Uluu Thalongh! It's here right next to them! The tree shambles forward towards the tiny hurricane, strange whistle increasing to a fever pitch as its bark splits into a gaping maw. All anyone can do in their shock is stare as the tree eats the storm... and starts to violently distort. Limbs grow and lash as the tree morphs and swells massively, on its way to becoming something else entirely.

​

It's Bertram who collects his wits enough to form any sort of plan. "RUN!", he screams. "WE MUST RUN!"

​

Zero disagreement! Despite injuries everyone sprints for the stairs in a panic, Nakam telepathically asking Feygllyyb to find Krenko as they descend in a mad rush. The temple's stonework cracks as a massive new weight expands on its roof, chunks falling around the gang as they run from fifth floor to fourth, to third, then second.

​

"GORJOK!", Bertram yells into his Sending Stone. "We need an evac! Stat! Temple of Omi Keyoka!"

​

The orcish first mate's response comes right away. "Captain! I was about to call! Your friend trapped in the ice block just thawed! The temple... hmm, ETA four hours. Heading your way immediately." Artus is free? A bit of good news at least. No time to talk or ponder further, though. The gang dives into the murky waters from which they first entered just as a great noise shakes the entire ziggurat.

 

A roar. A roar loud enough to shake the mighty stone temple. A roar that Krenko, carried by the talons of a griffon, turns to face. A roar that emits from something on the temple's apex that the former goblin can only equate to be the halfway point between a jungle tree and an absolutely massive 30-foot tall velociraptor. His jaw slacks and eyes go wide. This! Now this is a foe worthy of eating! The rest splash to the swamp's surface gasping for air as Feygllyyb and Krenko descend.

​

"Did you SEE THAT?!", Krenko shouts in glee. "I need it in my mouth!"

​

No. They don't. But they do see the destruction. The thing charged off the temple to the south, where the Big Ones' stilt village now is a destroyed heap of ruins. Wherever it went, at least it's not here. After retrieving Dragonbait, all retreat to the large hollow tree on the swamp's western edge that they had rested in earlier in the day to tend their wounds and recollect their sanity, awaiting their airship.

​

"That was the Uluu Thalongh?", asks Fotari. "What... what did it do? Why?"

​

"If we are right in our theory, your storm was Ubtao's rage. The legend you know as Uluu Thalongh, then, would be Ubtao's hunger.", explains Bertram. "Storm barrier faded, 'Hunger' could enter, and 'Hunger' devoured 'Rage'. Call it 'Hangry'."

​

It checks out, and it isn't good. If a god is fragmented, the last thing you want is the most negative and destructive of that god's aspects fused together and roaming a place already a mess due to planar separation. With time to kill Nakam and Bertram fly up on their respective mounts to find two inconvenient truths. One: The path of destruction heads south like a plague of locusts and it looks like the Uluu Thalongh bears no sign of stopping its hangry consumption. Two: The mists of the Bakumora are just as dense as before despite Fotari's search for redemption. Is Fotari as in control as they thought?

​

Hours later Arnie's Flying Helper drifts into view. Friends abound, and shouts and greetings sound! After Cobbler and Manos help most aboard it's a minor celebration, allies connecting after varying times apart. Artus Cimber is excited to see old friends, even in knowing that he's been out of it for at least a few weeks. The Handy Hands, a kobold-tech airship, and many months and hundreds of miles away from last seen! How has everyone been?

​

"Artus, friend... it has been a very, VERY, long day.", says Bertram, looking half past dead. "We would love to talk, but we we are exhausted and barely standing. Perhaps in the morning?"

​

The ranger hesitates, then agrees. He has missed weeks, let alone a day, and the Handy Hands look positively rough. First Mate Gorjok and the crew of the Flying Helper tasked to follow the mutated Uluu Thalongh's path of destruction throughout the night, the gang retires to their bunks within the safety of their own airship. 

​

It's been a day a very long day indeed.​

​

Gods and non-god lore be damned. All signs point to Treespeaker Fotari meddling with powers understood by no one, and that the nascent Dreadlord is very likely somewhere above. Where's the way up?

​

"There's a crack in the ceiling here.", calls Bertram, in the next room littered with old broken furniture.

 

"Ooh, I've been wanting to try this out!", Arnie responds cheerily. "Give me a lift!" Pallid and oily ever since he drank the symbiote called Tooms' Ooze a week ago, the handyman stretches unnaturally as Bertram boosts him towards the crack. Fingers extend, arms elongate into noodles, and soon Arnie's head disturbingly narrows and stretches. The rest of his body follows with a damp *shloop* noise. He's gone a few minutes, returning in equally unsettling fashion.

​

"I saw me! Well. My arcane eye. We could get to the top this way if we squeeze. I can only stretch like once a day though."

​

"For the better...", mutters Nakam. When it's too much body horror for a changeling, you know it's too much.

​

Krenko eyes weird pulsing roots on the nearby fountain, then the other unopened door leading away from the mural of Dendar. "Risky. There has to be an easier way.", he says. The others agree.

​

Door creaked open, Krenko and Bertram cautiously scout ahead. Beyond wildly encroaching vegetation a grand staircase flanked by giant serpent statues is blocked by large stone doors. Flanking the staircase are two large embedded iron rings with small plaques. In yuan-ti they read: 'Seventh for the first. Eleventh for the last', and the right 'Fourth for the next'.

​

"Very likely a trap if we get it wrong.", notes Bertram, perking up as his eyes drift upward. "Look at that!" The giant doors unmistakably portray Dendar the Night Serpent towering above a yuan-ti figure wearing a crown. A very familiar pointed crown. Is that the Black Opal Crown that they left behind in the Tomb of the Nine Gods? With Nakam's memory of Ras Nsi's faction of yuan-ti being an apocalyptic cult there's any uneasy consideration of why they may have been in Omu to begin with. Little time to ponder than now, though. A door to the side tempts, and getting upstairs is priority.

​

The side room is greatly overgrown despite the lack of sunlight, and although another large monolith is present thankfully no aggressive vines dwell nearby. Wading through water Arnie, Krenko, and Bertram leave Peach, Nakam, and Dragonbait on guard duty to investigate a ruined study of sorts. The water-damaged books are unsalvageable, but relatively fresh writings on loose scrolls catch the eye.

​

"The Treespeaker's writings...", the historian announces after taking some time to read them over. "Fotari was clearly losing his mind. He's been feeding the storm above, believing it to be Ubtao."

​

Fotari's sanity in question and this temple's original purpose known, the Handy Hands reunite to ponder if there's more at work here than just a tragic tale of a shaman betraying his people. The mystery evades for now. At least along with a hidden stash of gems and a magic scroll there is some margin writing that brings the plaque's stanzas into focus: '7-4-11'. Iron rings pulled to click chains in desired succession, soon the large doors creak open. The twin serpent statues' jaws unhinge to reveal tubes loaded with venom - a trap thankfully avoided.

​

"There's my eye!", Arnie happily declares, seeing himself once again. "Come on up. Let me give you a tour!"

​

The fifth floor is as the handyman had been seeing it. The pillar formerly dripping with intestinal blood is found to be inert of any threat, though a comfy fireplace nearby strangely mismatches to the decor. Determined magic by Nakam (and Krenko's urination), the party moves onward. Quietly sneaking ahead a second pillar is found that is crusting over with drying black ooze, though a third found beyond is actively roiling in blue flame.

​

"Did we turn the first two off?", Peach ponders. "We stabbed some bloody guts and killed some slimes below."

​

Bertram thinks on it, then pulls out the orange crystal sphere he found on the first unflooded floor. "I admit I was hiding this from you Peach, due to your... addiction. Arnie and I found it in a room with blue flame. Perhaps we missed something?"

​

The eladrin blurts out that she's been Crystal Ball Sober for a week now, but the notion of searching is solid to all. The way onward creeps with vegetation and the sound of rushing wind beyond closed doors - solving current riddles may be smart before encountering new ones. Orange sphere identified as a Scrying Orb, though, who dares touch it? Arnie volunteers. 

​

The handyman's eyes glaze over as his vision shifts. He looks down. Red priest robes. Scaled hands. Chained slaves are led past - sacrifices for their god. Scenes of ancient yuan-ti temple life fade in and out. While some take place in unfamiliar parts of the Temple of Omi Keyoka, the four sacrificial rooms are known to Arnie. He removes his hand, eyes clear, and explains: Four rooms and four pillars, two of which - 'blood' and 'slime' - have been already severed. 

​

"Stop 'water' and 'fire'. Got it. Let's roll!", says Nakam, and the gang marches back to lower floors.

​

'Water' is easy enough to find, being the same fountain which feeds the vegetation that the army of blights erupted from earlier. The pulsing roots have grown into pulsing cysts... likely a new mass of vicious plants forming. With Arnie's blessing Krenko's turret unleashes gouts of flame, nodules burst, and the fountain cracks. Whatever fed them feeds no more.

 

"Peach, I can see why crystal balls can be addicting.", says Arnie as they walk downstairs. "It was really tempting to try to see what my parents are up to! I don't know if this orange one can, though..."

​

"I could try. Want me to?", the bard asks. Arnie hesitates, then agrees. Touching her crystal ball Peach thinks of the dour father Arnie had described a few times before. The sphere swirls. In a classy manor a well-dressed man sits reading bank ledgers, looking as pleased as someone who has likely never smiled in their life possibly could. A painting of the grim man and a woman who looks a lot like Arnie hangs above... canvas ripped where a third figure between the two of them would be. Peach winces.

​

"See anything?", Arnie asks expectantly.

​

"WHAT! Uh. No!", Peach stutters, quickly disabling her crystal ball. "Sorry Arnie... I don't think it worked." She motions to the glow of blue flame ahead, changing the subject. "So! How about that blue fire, eh?"

​

What about it indeed! Despite the color it seems normal. Perhaps just some water will do? Bertram and Krenko's water has the expected effect. An explosion isn't so much accounted for! The blast fills the room, all taking some degree of burns before it is choked out by its own fuel consumption. Ouch. That happened, but it's over. With all locations in Arnie's vision visited, it's back to the top floor. The fire pillar now smolders, and a final pillar wet with corrupted water is found just as inactive. All that remains is the ominous wind and creeping greenery leading behind closed doors.

​

Bertram readies to open. "Peach? Care to talk our way in?" The bard nods.

​

Rushing wind from the storm above amplifies as the door opens, hinting at a way upward nearby. What distracts however is the garden. A beautifully chaotic grove of multicolored flowers, bushes, mosses, and even thick trees inexplicably grow over nearly every inch of the large sunless chamber. On the far side an unassuming older Chultan man calmly tends to a miniature bonsai tree. It must be him. Treespeaker Fotari.

​

The old man cants his head and smiles warmly. "Ah, you have made it. Good! I have been wishing to meet since my plants had learned of you. Few come so willingly. Come in!"

​

The Handy Hands peer in around Peach. Is this it? The threat that doomed the Bakumora? They're not sure entirely what they expected, but a friendly grandfather type perhaps wasn't it. After some convincing, Peach gets most of the gang to at least follow her in beyond the doorway. She turns back to the Treespeaker. "Come so willingly for what, exactly?", she asks.

​

"To help in restoring Ubtao of course!" Fotari spreads his arms like a priest welcoming attendees to a service. "I was once ignorant, too. Yet when great crisis befell Ubtao's people, our god sought to return and once again guide us through the maze of life. By gifting the worthy to Ubtao's realm we gift him power, power needed to fully return to us."

​

"Well. That sounds good!", states Peach. "But sacrifice? Ubtao would want that?" The Treespeaker is happy to explain his point of view. It oddly makes good sense despite the sacrificial angle and glint of an unwell mind in his eyes. There's also locational concern. This place doesn't sit right. Why would Ubtao manifest at a temple to Dendar, his greatest rival?

​

"Treespeaker?" Bertram steps forward and motions to the yuan-ti iconography amidst the grove. "I ask this with utmost respect... have you considered that the storm above is not Ubtao? That perhaps something else has tricked you?"

​

The old man's smile fades. His brow slowly scrunches. "That would mean... No. I know his warmth." Fotari looks up to smile once again, yet it stretches too far on his face. His shoulders creak as his back elongates, skin quickly turning wooden. "Ubtao will welcome your strong spirits in his realm. He thanks you for such noble sacrifices. Life... must feed on life!"

​

Fotari's body violently distorts but the Handy Hands rapidly snap into action faster than their rival! Krenko and Peach dive in to stabbing range as Bertram's axe flies. Fully turned into a giant vined monstrosity Fotari flails, slamming attackers and roaring a sound not far off from splintering branches... and the trees respond back! The two largest trees in the chamber reveal yawning maws in their midsections and lash out with limb and root, Peach taking a heavy hit as her cover animates to life, Arnie and Bertram nimbly dodging away. The second tree ensnares Nakam yet not before the paladin lands a vicious smite in on the Treespeaker.

​

Furiously the trees react to the Treespeaker's commands, and furiously the Handy Hands return blows. Attempts to burn back vegetation buy some space, and soon Fotari and his plants look much worse for wear. The shaman shifts back to human form to greatly heal himself and his trees but the onslaught continues. It isn't much longer before he relents.

​

"Stop! Please! I surrender." Fotari chokes and spits out blood as he falls to a knee. Clarity in his eyes and sudden realization of his actions stay the Handy Hands' blades for now. He may be more useful alive than dead, after all.

​

At their mercy Fotari explains his story since the Death Curse. His madness - if one would call it that - was more a spiral of optimistic desperation. It's almost hard to fault a person in a hopeless situation for searching for any solution, no matter how destructive. But still, Fotari's actions may have damned him, and his homeland along with him.

​

"You can see it now, yes?", asks Bertram. "In stories Ubtao never demands a path to be taken. Why would Ubtao command you to sacrifice? Some magical entity has been fed above this temple, but its colors swirl madly. It cannot be Ubtao."

 

The shaman slowly smiles once more. "Ah.. You have seen it, then? The colors? Most do not. I am sorry, but I do not agree. What you see is not a school of reason for wizards. It is not the realm of nature worshipers nor the preachers of gods. What you see... is. It is, and it is beyond us. And as such, I believe that Ubtao dwells within."

​

The historian's mind thinks back. Far back. Long before there was an Uluu Thalongh and even before meeting the Trickster Gods, memories form of a place of forgetting called Eshowe where talking animals also shimmered in the weave of magic. No. Wait. That wasn't the start. Farther back. It was Col. The druid had a penchant for shared and recurring lucid dreams, one of which was of a beacon of light in the jungle, source always just out of sight. A shimmering rainbow-hued beacon.

​

Bertram's on to something, he knows it. Col was. By the sound of it Fotari may be too. The Treespeaker is eager to help try to contain the growing storm, but the mystery of its nature is just out of reach: If it is, than what is it?

​

"Hey! That's a nice rug!"

​

Nakam's comment immediately gets Arnie's attention. Quickly heading over he finds the paladin inspecting a large rug of yuan-ti religious iconography. High quality, if not for age and water damage! Nothing a session of prestidigitation and mending wouldn't fix.

​

"Boy, this would really tie the living room together back home in Port Nyanzaru.", says Arnie. "Nakam, let's clean it up! Got room in the Portable Hole?" Bertram checks. Indeed there is (DM: Insert Abe actually doing the math for how many 10' by 15' Afghan-style rugs can fit in a Portable Hole...). Looking at his Living Pouch and pondering the potential downsides of packing two extradimensional spaces on the same person, he passes the magical hole to the paladin.

​

"Another one over here!", Peach's voice calls back, the bard scouting ahead. "Base of our stairs for this one, maybe?"

​

One would think that an evil snake-person temple repurposed by a mad shaman would perhaps put the Handy Hands in a somber mood, but no. Take joy where you can find it! As Peach and Bertram confirm that no traps or threats linger nearby, Arnie, Nakam, and Krenko get to work fixing up the second rug for transportation home. Despite the crumbling architecture this place is fairly well kept. It gets the bard thinking. If this place is home to someone, then someone must be home.

​

Peach points to stairs leading upward. "I'm gonna take a peek. Y'all wanna keep poking around down here as I do?" 

​

Bertram shrugs. "Split the party? Sure. Nothing bad has ever come from that."

​

To slight surprise Krenko is unwilling to let Peach go alone, following while Dragonbait waits at the base of the stairs, the remaining three heading to the far side of their current level. Keeping a distance between them Krenko follows, Peach sneaking in lead. The stairs lead to a large room with two stout black monoliths in front of a giant wall-spanning mural made from hammered copper, wildly growing shrubs and another fountain off to the left.

​

She's just halfway across the room when: *THWIP*. Vines on the monoliths snap to life to ensnare her! Dodging another vine Krenko drops his spider-legged turret to the floor and burns them with a gout of flame, water hissing out of their dense outer layers. Plant debris swirls much like it did on the floor below, yet instead of a waving leaf-man a horde of thorny little homunculi form, screeching oddly and rushing the duo. As Krenko hacks at Peach's restraints the bard turns best she can, her cone of cold blasting across the chamber to shred the twig army.

​

Distant scrambling echoes down the ziggurat's levels, fading to soft thuds and the occasional vocal tone. Bertram shrugs and smiles. "It's good to hear those two working it out. Let's open this door!"

​

Nakam and Arnie gasp at the sight beyond. Another rug! The paladin immediately gets to work prepping the rug as the historian and handyman position themselves by two new doors on either side of the room. One by one is tedious. Why not open both at once? Bertram grabs a handle. "Okay Arnie, ready? One... Two... Three!"

​

"Aww...", Arnie moans after a moment. "It's just broken stuff and a goopy wall in here. How about over there?"

​

No response comes. Bertram stares at the center item in his room. The rug. It's huge! Easily twice the size of any they have collected so far. When Nakam and Arnie join all three gaze in silence. It's... it's... beautiful! This will take some time to prep, but what a find! The horrible altar beyond it snaps them back to the reality. A pulsing column resembling intestine glows with unnatural light... and is that a human skin laying nearby, taken off much as one would a jacket? Disgusting.

​

Meanwhile, the vines' poison cuts deep! Peach is looking in a bad way by the time Dragonbait makes it up the stairs, the saurial doing his best to cut her free as a few remaining twig-men puncture and thrash. Krenko is grappled, forces his way out, and is grappled again as his turret does its best to light the angry vegetation aflame. Finally the last vine is hacked into submission and the trio collapses in exhaustion. Now to relax a bit, spreading around cure wounds and potions in a much needed way until the others catch up from below... wait. What's that yelling?

​

"AHH! GRUBS! SO MANY GRUBS!"

​

Bertram was just harmlessly flicking the human skin around on his fishing pole like the world's worst flag until the intestine-like column burst open, maggots pouring out by the hundreds to fill the skin like a balloon. It fills up and starts to animate as Arnie runs into the room, Nakam looking up from his rug-mending position to see Arnie's 'goopy wall' sloshing forward with weird oily menace. 'Open two doors at once', they said! 'It'll be fine and save time', they said!

​

All Peach, Krenko, and D.B. can do is sprint from 1 1/2 floors away as the rest are trapped between two huge oozes and a skinsuit full of maggots. Arnie and Bertram unload into it at range as Nakam hacks away, grubs spraying across the room. The skin sack falls apart and maggots retreat into the column they came from, but the doorway is full of black viscous slime! 

Of course there's only one way to protect a rug. With a flash of gold light Arnie's personal angel is summoned, the slacker celestial warding away oozes the best it can (DM: We've stylized Arnie's angel of Lathander as The Dude from 'The Big Lebowski' since the beginning. There could not have been a MORE PERFECT time to whip him out.). At typical great speeds Krenko dashes in to slash at an ooze... simply splitting it into a third slime. Damn! Arnie's flames are effective but Bertram's highly charged cone of cold simply creates an icy crust on their amorphous forms. Double damn! 

​

"Nakam, don't cut them with-", Krenko starts, but it's too late. Kicking the shredded skin remains aside the paladin whirls around to chop in an ooze multiplying spree. A fourth! A fifth! A sixth! By the time Peach and Dragonbait catch up they find their friends in a hot mess of wall-to-wall black pudding. That rug in the middle of it all, though. Look at the size of it! 

​

Unwilling to let multiplication get in the way of his subtraction, Nakam keeps hacking... with the power of light! Radiant smites succeed where sword hits divide, and soon the combined spell might of the Handy Hands burns away the last of the animated slime. And a big chunk of the rug.

​

"This'll take forever to mend.", laments Arnie. "But we have time! Right guys? Best rug yet!"

​

He's not wrong! How about a much needed breather first, though? Retreating to the room Bertram and Arnie first explored, the door is barred and info shared about their respective rooms discovered. There's also perhaps just a twinge of regret of forgetting some dungeon delving basics... but hey, they remembered to check for traps at least, right? A bit more than an hour later the last sounds of tiny wooden feet searching the temple fade ('Little twiggy bastards', as Peach calls them), and it's back to the gross intestine room to make sense of it.

​

What does one do when wanting to see where an intestinal column leads? Go inside it, of course! No. Not like that. With Arnie's magical eyeball! The handyman's arcane eye squeezes into the fleshy folds like a horrible sex toy in an even more horrible location, squeezing upwards and out of sight. A black pillar pulsing with red. A stairway down. A couple doors.

​

"That's not quite where we were, Arnie.", says Peach upon hearing the description. "There was a mural. A fountain, too."

​

The handyman thinks about it in home repair terms. A ziggurat of this size should be five floors. If this is the third, this should be the fifth! No one in sight, though. Sending his eye down stairs he finds sealed stone doors blocking the way down... they'll have to explore this in person. When Bertram gives D.B. the okay to wreck the intestines Arnie's eye watches the red pulses fade from the pillar. Another thing learned, at least. Some connection was severed, and hopefully for the better.

​

The giant rug is only half repaired from all of the fire, ice, and ooze acid, but it'll have to do for now. Into Nakam's hole it goes, and upward the party ventures. It's likely that whoever is home now knows that they're here. Time to keep moving.

​

"Heh..." Bertram stifles a laugh as he sticks a cold soggy twig blight into his Living Pouch - a remnant of Peach and Krenko's battle. Imagine how weirded out Wakanga will be when he touches it on his end! The helpful but obnoxious Merchant Prince deserves it coming back his way now and then. Attention turns to the two monoliths to assure no more assassin vines dwell, but it's the massive mural on the room's long rear wall that captures the eye.

 

The hammered copper triptych is impressive in size. They stare for a while, taking in the three scenes that stretch across its length. It's Krenko who first reasons out some details. The floor below showed yuan-ti battling other humanoid races but here the figures are larger than life, towering above the forests around them. Paired with the temple's multiple statues of priests, these must be gods. Three scenes, two gods recurring in each: a man and a colossal serpent. 

 

"That's Ubtao!", he notes. Indeed, the image of Chult's god is known to them: they've seen the middle scene before! Well, sort of. The image of Ubtao creating Mezro was first seen by them long ago in the ruins of Eshowe. A dwarven god and a distant yet huge snake look on as before, but this one is reversed in perspective as if viewed from the snake's eyes.

​

In the left scene the colossal serpent is being wrestled into defeat by Ubtao. Then there's the Mezro scene, serpent unable to interfere. On the right, however, Ubtao lies broken and dead. The victorious serpent stretches to the sky with hinged jaws opening to encompass the sun. It's a story of gods in three parts: a past, a present, and future, posits Arnie. This temple's age would coincide with Mezro's prime, making the middle the 'present'.

​

"...And that's Dendar.", adds Nakam. The others inquire. Dendar? In their time as Biff Longsteel with the Company of the Yellow Banner, Nakam was chained within Ras Nsi's lair in Omu before being thrown into Acererak's tomb to die. Ras Nsi didn't lead any random group of yuan-ti. He leads a cult of Dendar, the god prophesized to end the world.

​

"No.", muses Bertram, thinking of ancient Chultan lore that he has learned. "Not gods... not originally."

​

Only the oldest texts in the museum mention it. It is written that the gods of Toril came across others: wild ones with power to rival their own called Primordials. War raged between the great beings until the gods found a secret weapon in Ubtao, a Primordial willing to turn against their brethren with promise of godhood. Ubtao turned the tide, securing the gods' victory by defeating and imprisoning his bitter rival Dendar the Night Serpent, a massive Primordial serpent of fear and nightmare.​

​

So Dendar was imprisoned, and that is where well-known stories of Ubtao start. The gods welcomed Ubtao as one of their own, gifting the land of Chult where he and he alone was the sole deity. For thousands of years he reigned as god-king.

​

Yet Dendar became a god too, in a way. The yuan-ti welcomed the Night Serpent into their small pantheon. Imprisoned as she was, her influence still grew with worship. Sects of yuan-ti society came to revere her, believing that one day Dendar will break from her prison and swallow the sun, ending this world and giving birth to a new one. The gods had no fear as Ubtao swore to always keep his apocalyptic rival contained... until Ubtao abandoned Chult long ago.

​

Repurposed as it is, the Temple of Omi Keyoka is a temple for a world-ending snake deity with no present rival. Yet all of this esoteric lore is neither here nor there. The Handy Hands came here to confront Fotari and escape the Bakumora. 

​

And most importantly: This damned room doesn't have a single rug to steal.

​

The land itself almost seems to grow more sullen as they approach. Ground turns soft underfoot, drooping trees become high-rooted, and a miasma of stagnant water and rotting vegetation hangs in the air. Through the thick haze that permeates in every direction some grazing dinosaurs are seen... strangely off in their proportions, though no one dares approach for a more precise look. Some things are best left viewed from afar.

​

As the trees thin there is no mistaking this bog's core: even a couple miles away and half-sunken into open waters, the Temple of Omi Keyoka is an impressively large ziggurat with an even more impressive weather pattern above. The upper levels of the temple are obscured by what can only be described as a miniature hurricane glowing with unnatural light.​

​

"Getting close might not be good.", says Nakam, landing Feygllyyb after a quick scout. "These 'Big Ones' are said to live in a village on the south side. Maybe we can circle around?"

 

Most agree. Krenko appears distracted however, taking in his own reflection in the swamp water. There's a weird delay... then his reflection waves at him. Then a second Krenko appears. A third. All beckoning to come on in. He kicks the water, rippled splashes dissipating the reflections. "Sorry, what? Water's up to something here.", he says.

​

Peach backs away side-eyeing from another stagnant pool. "My reflection just tried to invite me into a circus tent..."

​

"Bertram, mind if I ride along with you on Russell Scarecrow?", says Arnie, a bit spooked. There's no disagreement.

​

The temple becomes easier to make out as their route arcs closer. As Nakam plays around with the ignition potential of swamp gas, Bertram eases his flying scarecrow forward. The ziggurat should be ancient yet its excellently well-preserved. In viewing the localized storm up close its magical nature is clear. The colors, though... it's a kaleidoscope of energy - a veritable rainbow of divine, primal, and arcane magics. Upon musing its nature, it hits him. Bertram has seen this before. The Uluu Thalongh glowed similarly, but more strangely, so did the Trickster Gods. Once freed from Acererak's tomb their spirits radiated much the same! The historian is about to explain to his comrades when a shrill call for help comes from afar.

 

"Help?", perks up Krenko. "Help is on the way!"

​

"Krenko, wait! Damn it.". Arnie sighs as Peach follows. Why doesn't 'obvious trap' ever come to Krenko's mind?

​

"Oh! OH! Thank you! I was so lost...", the emaciated Chultan man accepts Krenko's wide open embrace and hugs in return. Two arms wrap around the crocodilian tightly. Then a third. Then a fourth. Then a fifth. Five is where Peach draws the line! An arrow flies from her bow, the lost man screeching as it sinks deep, Krenko taking the que to immediately start gnashing his teeth into the chest of this 'person'. Much harder skin than normal. Clearly not a human!

​

"FRIENDS?!", a burbling voice shouts. A bloated woman crawls from the swamp water to grin madly. "NEW FRIENDS!" She whips her arm forward, hand detaching with trailing tendons to sink claws into Peach's side, yanking her like a harpoon. 

​

"NO! MY FRIENDS!", another voice calls. A half-decayed lizardfolk emerges to swing its torso, its entire right arm spinning through the air to also grab Peach, the two pulling the bard is opposite directions like rival fishermen. Time to get in quick! Feygllyyb soars in, Nakam chopping down from above as Bertram manages to dash just into range, eldritch blasts aiding Krenko's thunderwave in propelling the five-armed freak off of him. Psychic energy cuts painfully into the Handy Hands' minds as they retaliate, spells finding purchase but weapons blunted in effectiveness.

​

As Arnie dodges the grasp of another thrown hand to respond with a series of searing rays, Nakam smites down from his grappled position while Peach manages to dimension doors out of the rival grasps. Just in time too. These things hurt! The tides turn and soon the gang is fighting the things back to whence they came. Bertram's blasts lay the five-armed one flat, Nakam fells the decayed lizard man, and Krenko drops the first 'fisher'. Soon the swamp is back to its usual fetid scents and eerie sounds, the rush of a magic maelstrom in the distance.

​

"Krenko?", starts Arnie. "This might be the only time you ever hear me say this: Sometimes it's okay to NOT help! We could have entirely avoided this. Look at Peach. They nearly killed her!"

​

The former goblin shrugs, pulling a tiny bit of flesh out from his teeth. "They weren't undead. What were those things?"

​

"Sorrowsworn.", responds Bertram. "Natives of the Shadowfell. The planes are blending indeed... stay on guard."

 

Much in need of a rest to heal they pull back to the marsh's edge, finding refuge under the roots of a giant cypress-like tree. Bertram is explaining the odd similarities in rainbow-hued magics when they hear it again: the meandering tuneless whistle. The Uluu Thalongh. Again! The Bakumora is hundreds of square miles. How does this entity keep finding them?

 

No time to ponder now. Without a second thought the paladin jumps on his griffon and takes off over the swamp, the Uluu Thalongh furiously possessing tree after tree to pursue until Nakam reaches open waters in the direction of the temple. Trees wave on the shore, almost as if irritated, before the force trails off back into the woods.

​

"Did you see that?", asks Nakam upon return. "It can't follow where there's no trees!" Peach nods. She had suspected that as well. As dangerous and mystical as this swamp is, that's an interesting quality they might be able to exploit in their favor. 

​

The distant stilt-and-boardwalk village ahead seems quiet at first. A few lizardfolk are seen... then something else. A humanoid quadruped not too dissimilar from a 'reptilian centaur' though nearly the size of a hut itself. Testing out the Navel of the Moon's arcane eye ability for the first time, Arnie scouts unseen. There's more. A green 'Big One' joins a red one in commanding a few cowering lizardfolk, a lithe black one supervises, and a large white one carries lumber in the distance.

​

"Okay!", whispers Krenko from where they hide in the reeds. "Weapons out, go in screaming, no survivors. Ready? Go!"

​

"No!" Bertram quickly and sharply responds with the tone of scolding a dog. "Remember what Arnie said a few hours ago? Sometimes there's wrong ways to help! Also you totally died that way like a year ago... We need a better plan."

​

'A better plan' doesn't even start off simple. Somehow what starts as another elaborate circus ruse by the Handy Hands morphs into an even more elaborate plan involving an imaginary Chultan bureaucracy, construction standards and coding, and civil engineers offering their skilled services. It's... an idea, alright. And one they go with. Whether legit deception or a plan to confuse them to death, they're about to find out what the Big Ones think of city officials in the midst of jungle wilds. 

 

Peach stands and straightens her jacket. "Here we go. Follow me. I'll do the talking."

​

Laboring subservient lizardfolk blink in amazement as a wild looking collection of adventurers walk right into the village. The black Big One slinks over, staring like a hungry predator who sees a rabbit walk into its den.​

​

The bard clears her throat. "Ah, a foreman. Good day. By Royal Order 2504 regarding construction standards and practices in Chultan architecture, my crew and I have been tasked with thoroughly inspecting this region of the Bakumora. The sinking temple in particular seems a safety hazard. Is there a local mayor we may speak to, before proceeding with our duties?"

​

The black lizard-taur cocks its head, expression somewhere between amusement and utter confusion. Eyes stare as the head turns. "Kamaphet? We have visitors!" It turns back with a smile and an exaggerated bow. "Right this way, guests!"

​

The Handy Hands follow to the center of the boardwalk village, white and green Big Ones coming closer as the gang approaches the particularly large red one lecturing what appear to be emissaries from the three major lizardfolk tribes of the area. A fifth and final blue Big One emerges as the red - apparently Kamaphet - takes them in. The pitch is heard. As Peach makes her case as to why they should be allowed to approach the Temple of Omi Keyoka in peace, the four other Big Ones slowly encircle at a distance. Flanking positions. The feeling that this could get ugly at any second hangs heavy in the air.

​

"The humans." Kamaphet grumbles, motioning to Arnie and Bertram. "Give them for sacrifice, and the rest of you may go."

​

"Oh, I'm afraid not. You see, that one's my slave.", Peach responds. "And that one my manservant. Perhaps we can-"

​

"-We mean to sacrifice in person to the one you follow.", interrupts Bertram. "We wish to speak to them."

​

The red lizard-taur narrows its eyes. "To the Chosen One, the shaman who speaks to our god? Directly?"

 

Bertram nods. "Yes. Your god though... I wish to learn from the shaman of your god before I die." 

​

"Of course a human would not know!", Kamaphet scoffs. "So many of the unworthy do not know of great Ubtao!"

​

That takes the historian aback. Ubtao? The same Ubtao who was the singular god of Chult for millennia? Ubtao, who built Mezro and ruled as a god-king? Ubtao, who empowered Ras Nsi as his champion before he fell from grace? Ubtao, who abandoned Chult and its people nearly two thousand years ago? The absent god that many still pray to today in ways that don't involve sacrifices, human genocide, lizard mutants, and ominous yuan-ti temples with personalized hurricanes?

​

Bertram nods yes, politely. It seems the sensible thing to do.

​

The red Big One is silent for a while, then motions a huge arm towards the looming temple in the background. "Go. Find the Chosen One yourself, and may you be so lucky as to die in Ubtao's name."

​

And so they leave. Fully expecting a nasty battle in this swamp village, the Handy Hands simply walk in and out again. None follow. No spears or arrows launch from behind. It's far from the first time they talked their way out of a crazy situation, but this one is certainly one for the record books. (DM: Multiple Persuasion rolls of 25+ just barely did it!)

​

"You know? MAYBE our plan was a bit too convoluted.", confesses Arnie. "But it worked!"

​

Moss and reeds falter and soon they're up to their necks in murky brown water. Following Bertram's lead the gang dives down following his light beacon, swimming through the temple's former main entrance and into a partially collapsed ground floor. Catching an air pocket they swim upward, they eventually find the third floor largely above water.

​

Except for some collapse, the temple is interestingly not in the worst condition. Its even verdant to an extent: the wild green gardens would be beautiful if not for growing around fountain statues of imposing yuan-ti human/snake hybrid warriors. A few dried leaves swirl on their own, forming a tiny effigy of a person that waves to Peach before dispersing.

​

The bard waves. "Hello.", she says, watching the leaves settle. "I'm not sure if I like or hate that..."

​

"Water's clean.", announces Nakam. "Nothing undead either. Not sure what's up with the friendly leaves though."

​

As the paladin, bard, Krenko, and Dragonbait ready to open a solid stone door, Arnie and Bertram quickly pop down to a smaller door to their left. Giant coiled snake statues flank an orange globe floating above a podium, a fireplace unnaturally crackling with blue flame at the rear. The historian's eyes quickly determine the flame and orb are magical but he also knows the make: this is a Crystal Ball, much like the one Peach can't stop herself from staring into. Using mage hand to pocket it, he and Arnie keep it their little secret for now. Perhaps its best to avoid tempting Peach (or Krenko!) here at this moment.

​

The more muscular of the party grind open the larger door, and cautious adventure continues into the repurposed yuan-ti temple. Somewhere in here Treespeaker Fotari likely dwells. And - one hopes that the Big Ones are badly misconstrued - so too something referred to with the name of an absent god.

​

"So... Can you let me out now?", asks Krenko from within Peach's conjured forcecage.

​

"I meant it. Sit and think about your choices, pal!", responds the bard. "Besides, um, that spell kind of lasts for an hour..."

​

Welp. So much for leaving quickly. As Arnie and Peach converse, Nakam and Bertram take the time to thoroughly inspect. Why did Odilon's Shrine become so haunted? The network of magical vines throughout the place is very curious, but they don't seem nefarious. Even Odilon himself seemed more 'effect' than 'cause'. Though without answer, at least the shrine is calm for now. Once Peach's spell fades there's just enough daylight left to trek back northward for a few.

​

The village where they found Zula is eerie as ever but safe enough after dark. After ID'ing Odilon's bow as The Provider (DM: a +3 bow that can morph and shoot missiles. Neat!), Peach trades Bertram the Eye of Zaltec for it. It's a quiet night.

 

With Goodwill hopefully being bought with the lizardfolk tribes, and easing conflict between them and humans priority, the rainy day's course is set. Back to Bluefeather Roost, then Kayebo!

​

New weird little spider-cannon contraption on his shoulder (DM: Artificer Artillerist... bard... barbarian... yeah.), Krenko leads ever onward. It's quite the tree that is spotted a few hours later. What first appear as particularly large fruits growing all over the thing are... hearts? Bodiless hearts of all shapes and sizes. On a whim the former goblin chucks his axe to sever a 'stem' to get a fully unexpected result. The heart's lobes part like fleshy lips and it screams, rows of tiny teeth between the lobes, before flying through the air directly at Krenko! It shrieks and swoops for a return pass then - *thwack*! A well-placed arrow followed by a volley of magic missiles tumbles the thing to the ground motionless.

​

"You're welcome.", says Peach, blowing on the bow's end like one would a Giff rifle.

​

In true Krenko fashion no time is wasted sampling the free meat. "Hey! Ankylosaurus. Not so bad!", he exclaims, Peach's arrow making a convenient meat-on-a-stick handhold.

​

"Yet disgusting.", replies Bertram, pondering the Shadowfell planar bleeding that may have caused such a tree full of various species of hearts. That fly. And scream. With mouths full of teeth. "Let's walk away and forget we ever saw it, ya?"

​

"I hate it.", says Arnie. "Hey. Idea. Back up!" With the gang well out of the way the handyman conjures Lathander's golden energy to max capacity, a blazing pillar of radiance scorching down to fully encompass the entire tree. Nearly fifty hearts of various shapes and sizes all screech and rocket through the air towards Arnie, teeth gnashing, yet the flaming abominations falling by the dozens only partway to their target. A handful persist but in the end all crash and roll before reaching Arnie. 

​

"Ooh! Ooh! Free snacks!", shouts Cobbler, and the feeding frenzy is on as he and Krenko rush to shove as much of the flash-seared free meats in their mouths as they can. Everyone else is all too eager to leave.

​

There's not quite enough light to reach Bluefeather Roost without risking night travel, yet even with a tiny hut it's a less than comfortable evening. First its bats. No worries there. The severed heads with bat wings, though, those are less innocuous. Later on during Peach's watch some... THING is seen: the size of a huge bird yet made out of piled masses of humanoid bones. Come morning's all are very happy their hiding spot didn't attract its attention.

 

The morning push to the Roost is a quiet one, with the familiar wayward performers of 'Cirque du Hisari' quickly invited back up. Chief Voshk is gruff as ever though welcoming with indiscernible meats. Once the elderly shaman Ouida joins, both are pleased to hear the Handy Hands' debrief.

​

"Legend says that Odilon will rise to defend his homeland when it is under threat... but I do not think his remains crawling the walls were what the stories meant. Good that he rests again.", says old Ouida. "The Bluefeather Clan owes gratitude."

​

Voshk grunts. "As asked, the Bluefeather shall speak with Kayebo. Tomorrow. But for now, come. Feast as family."

​

The largest tree of the Roost is partially hollow, naturally worked and furnished to resemble a large meeting hall of sorts. Multitude of meat roast as lizardfolk villagers slowly filter in to sit amongst the same long communal tables as the chief, shaman, and 'circus performers'. To even those who don't speak Draconic the mood is distinctly positive. As the disguised Handy Hands are honored through egalitarian fashion, talk turns to standing matters.

​

Actions at Odilon's Shrine show corruption of the Bakumora indeed runs strong. The tribal leaders are open to the notion that the so-called 'Big Ones' are likely corrupted as well, but the matter stands that they still press their will on more than just the Bluefeather Clan. Itching for a fight, Krenko eagerly insists that Sir Razzle and the Dazzlers will be looking into the matter post-haste. 

​

"Ah, to the temple and marshlands, then?", asks Ouida. The shaman explains that the Big Ones dwell in an swamp village very close to the half-sunken ancient yuan-ti temple that Treespeaker Fotari holes up in. "Be wary of the waters.", she cautions, yet oddly it's her gaze at a passing clan member that shows more concern than her voice.

​

It's Zula, who they saved from the mutant parrot-bear-spiders. Good to see her back! "Is something wrong?", asks Bertram.

​

"Zula died months ago.", Chieftain Voshk rumbles quietly. "We ate her in honor. Yet there is Zula."

​

The historian had suspected this. If a Domain of Dread in the making such as the Bakumora can make new people to repopulate itself, what's to stop populations from mingling? In casually talking to and covertly inspecting Zula, she seems entirely normal despite apparently being a clone of sorts. 

​

When informed, Nakam stretches his divine senses to confirm what he noticed a week earlier. Indeed it's true: Zula lacks the spark one would call a soul. Yet a shock comes as he looks around the room. She's not alone. Over a dozen other lizardfolk here also lack that glow, entirely unknown to the chief and shaman! The paladin thinks. No. Best not disturb a peaceful diplomatic dinner with that news. As long as there is no threat, this existential dilemma can be pondered another day. (DM: Shout out to a certain Barovian farmboy from a previous campaign, here.)

​

Empty treeside hut gifted for the night, it's a welcome safe rest far above the jungle floor.

​

*         *         *

​

Fotari's temple was the plan. After seeing the delegation bound for Kayebo includes the raiding warrior Zindak, however, plans change. They best get ahead of the Bluefeather to make sure the human settlement knows what's on the way! 

​

It's easy enough to get ahead of the others. Easier still when the day unfolds with tolerable weather and no strange encounters. The biggest threat, if any, is a night watch that awkwardly leaves Peach and Krenko up and awake together for hours. The two sit listening to distant nocturnal calls for a long while until the silence is broken.

​

"It was good when it was.", Krenko muses. "I've changed though. I mean, look at me. I'm a genius crocodile now."

 

"Yeah. It was good.", she responds. Peach pauses. "I never charmed you, you know. That was always just... us." She pauses longer this time. "Um... Okay... Well there was once. I had to slow you down. You were goin' at it just so dang fast!"

​

Krenko squints. Yeah. That checks out. He tinkers with his devices and tools as the watch drags on, doing his best to not always respond to Peach's near-constant stream of musings to avoid talking about anything more substantial. Come dawn and a new day of rain it's a welcome return to Kayebo. The crew of Arnie's Flying Helper is more than happy to see their captains again and show off their work in rebuilding the large village. Chieftain Onyeka is found near a central fire, where much of the same report given to the lizardfolk is intently received. Concern of the delegation is noted.

​

"In lizardfolk culture deception is nearly unheard of.", she explains. "I would not worry. Even if Zindak is present it is pure practicality on their end. Roles are held, not grudges. It makes a lot of sense from their point of view."

​

It's not new information but it's tricky to process. Truly alien minds, these lizardfolk. At least such a way of thinking is old hat to the locals here, and it gives hope that peace talks will go well. A series of thunks and scrapes signal Dragonbait arriving with the solid smoky ice monolith of Artus to the fireside party, and talk shifts. Assuming an end to tribal conflicts, it's time to deal with root causes. What does Onyeka know about these Big Ones and Fotari's temple?

​

"These 'Big Ones', they number five. Different colors, each one!", the young tribal scout relates. "They are also different in body. More legs."

​

"Like a centaur?", asks Bertram. The scout is unfamiliar, but confirms once described. So, lizardfolk 'centaurs'. Interesting.

​

The scout continues. "The marshes are dangerous. Avoid the wildlife. The Big Ones' village is easy enough to find. The Temple of Omi Keyoka cannot be missed. A storm rages above... what you call a tornado has been growing for months!"

​

Shaman Ouida said that the Big Ones preached the word of a new god. Kayebo's scouts report of a persistent tornado slowly growing in intensity at nearby temple ruins. Temple ruins that are both yuan-ti in origin and now house a tribal elder whose actions sent the region spiraling into gloom...

​

...Yet the Bakumora somehow remains planarly tethered, magical and spiritual chaos rippling across the land. Whatever Fotari started, it doesn't appear to have ended. There must be more to the story that they're not seeing, and they know just where to go for answers. One things for sure though: No way they're bringing their airship near a nexus of tempest energy.

​

"Jim!", Arnie calls in rallying the crew. "We're off to a creepy swamp temple and to fight reptile centaurs. We'll need you and the others to put on a performance for the arriving Bluefeather delegation. Here's the script!"

​

The drow surgeon huffs. "Damnit, captain! I'm a doctor, not a thespian!" (Erik: "There it is. Everyone drink!")

​

It takes some convincing but the airship crew is slowly sold. Tempting as it is to stay and make sure peace talks go well, it's they're well ahead of the Bluefeather. Can't risk giving these Big Ones any more time. To the marshlands they must go! 

​

Supplies are gathered. Artus' block is loaded up into the airship. Dragonbait agrees come in hopes of finding a fix for his friend. Wakanga and Bertram trade messages through the Living Pouch for spell components and information. With Manos and Cobbler left behind with the ship's crew for safety, it's finally time to leave.

 

A rot is at the core of the Bakumora, and the Handy Hands are off to discover exactly what it is.​

​​

The dead lie still... at least to the naked eye. Peach's ethereal vision says otherwise. The inside of Odilon's Shrine is vaguely anatomical, twin 'foot' entrances winding up staircase 'legs' to a 'pelvis' chamber that, according to her, is literally swarming with restless spirits. It's a strange feeling when someone floats through one's self, but thankfully that is the worst that has occurred to this point.​​​

​

Peach shivers. "Jinkies! This place is SUPER haunted!"

​

"Out of the way! I don't see anything!", Krenko says, shoving past into the vaguely rectangular room. The green and dark purple vines common here twist and converge at a small meditation spot overhanging an open pit, numerous highly decayed lizardfolk bodies below. A narrow spiral staircase begins in the center rear much where this statue's spine would be, if it had one. As Bertram sneaks to scout it out, Krenko announces.

​

"SPIRITS!", he shouts. "It is I! Krenko 'Tok-Tok' Kikijiki! I am one of your own! We come in peace!"

​

Silence. Well, almost. The historian hears shuffling feet up the stairs. Otherwise its as quiet as the dead. Something glints to the eye as Krenko stands by the pit. Surely the dead won't mind a little grave robbery? One mage hand later a silvered bracelet is pulled upward... and the wrist it is on starts to thrash! A decayed lizardfolk with black voids where eye sockets should be climbs upward in a violent frenzy.

​

"G-g-g-g-ghosts!", shouts Arnie, fleeing down the 'leg' they emerged from.

​

The creature screeches and slashes at Krenko as he, Nakam, and Dragonbait work to keep it in the pit, a second one with a void for a mouth screeching from the stairway as it runs past Bertram. They're easy enough to hit, but the air around them is charged with a necrotic drain, and the sight of their black faces inspires a dread that cuts to the bone. Worse yet it appears they can force others to look into their voids... and Bertram does, collapsing onto the floor! 

 

"We've angered the spirits up there too!" , yells Peach, waving at the empty air. "Arnie? We need you!"

​

The handyman stops. A cleric, scared of undead? What was he thinking? Arnie turns around to charge back into the room, unleashing Turn Undead as he runs. "I ain't afraid of no ghost!"

​

The rest is dirty but thankfully quick. Unseen ghosts flee while the heavy hitters smash the void-faced lizardfolk corpses to dust, Bertram rescued by Peach before the few remaining spirits are splattered. Pinkish ectoplasm goo rains down, signaling the end of combat for the moment and comedically making all hit speak Draconic for a few minutes.

​

"Right. That was unexpected.", says Bertram as he drinks a healing potion. "Stay here. I'm going to scout, ya?"

​

The others nod. Silent as a shadow the historian creeps his way up the stairs to find a double-tiered room far above that roughly corresponds to the shrine's 'chest'. The vines are dense but they don't fully obscure the central feature: an ornately carved stone sarcophagus. The heavy lid is askew but there's no doubt to where its former occupant is... as on the ceiling, a mummified lizardfolk form clings like a nightmarish spider.

​

"Well. Good news, bad news.", says Bertram upon return. "I found Odilon's resting place. I also found Odilon, less than restful. Stairs continue upward, though. What do you think?"

​

Fight the mummy of a folk hero? Sounds excellent to Krenko. The others wonder though. Perhaps fully exploring this shrine first would be a good idea? Bard-barian-ificer reluctantly agreeing and Nakam and Dragonbait opting to stay back and not spoil a sneaky plan, the rest quietly work their way upward. Once Peach gets her robe's eyes on the next room up all are grateful Bertram didn't go it alone: all sorts of invisible undead are in there with Odilon!

​

With stylized giant teeth on three sides of the much smaller room above, there's no mistaking which part of the shrine they are in. Instead of a tongue more of the green and purple vines twist on the floor in the 'mouth', leading to a central half-domed structure. It almost looks like a sideways blacksmith forge, but what's with the pipe descending inward? Hard to say. Knowing that there is likely just one more level to go, the 'mouth' is left for the 'brain' above.

​

"Shh. There's someone in there. Back to us and not moving.", Bertram whispers. "Krenko? Got this one?"

​

The former goblin moves in and circles... but the figure in meditative pose does not move. It's no wonder when he rounds to the front. This fellow's dead as a doornail! Not quite as decayed as the other lizardfolk below, though. Risking getting close for inspection, the corpse's head suddenly moves and startles Krenko, gasping for air and searching with it's eyeless face.

​

"Loyal pilgrims...", it rasps in Draconic. "Ask! Ask and this one shall reveal!"

​

Arnie scrunches his brow. "Ask it what? 'Why are you a weird dead talking guy?'"

​

"Arnie, shh! Limited magic, important questions only.", hushes Peach. "Bertram, Krenko? Ask it some useful stuff. Like, who are they, what's up here?"

​

The corpse's responds to questions in turn, the rest of its body locked into a rigor mortis lotus position. They were a priest of sorts, guiding pilgrims on meditative journeys to follow Odilon's ways. When Fotari's deeds caused sent the Bakumora into chaos the shrine's dead awoke, seeking rest but not knowing how to find it. Krenko hugs the shriveled body close, decrepit mouth close to his ear as the final question is asked. How, exactly, are they to bring Odilon peace?

​

"All hunts must end. End the hunt of the Great Hunter..." The head lolls back then goes limp, final necromantic energy leaving its body. End the hunt? What does that mean? Tossing the corpse aside Krenko shrugs, the others investigating the upper-most chamber. Like the room below this one is carved to look like the inside of a head, giant insides of eyelids lining the far wall. The talking corpse was sitting on another spot thick with green and purple vines, which gets Bertram thinking. His eyes glow white... indeed, they're magical!

​

"Odd. Magical vines throughout a lizardfolk-shaped shrine.", Bertram muses. "I'll send a sample to Wakanga to see what he thinks." The archaeologist cuts a section of one and puts it in the Living Pouch with a note.

 

As Krenko continues to play with the dead body like a puppet, the rest debate the corpse's final reply. If that creep on the ceiling a couple chambers below is Odilon's reanimated mummified corpse, how do they bring it peace?

​

"I could burn him!", suggests Arnie. No... well. Maybe. Let's save that for a backup option.

​

"I could become him!", suggests Krenko, disguise self turning him into a mummy lizard. No. How's that peaceful?

​

"'End the hunt'.", muses Bertram. "What if we gave Odilon something to hunt?"

​

"What? Like one of us?", Peach responds. "That most dangerous of game: Man?" Eyes turn to Arnie. No. Tempting though.

​

"I've got it!", announces Arnie. "GO GO LITTLE HELPER!" The onyx dog statue turns into its magical talking dog alter ego and listens to the handyman's directions: go parlay with the mummy downstairs! It's likely a terrible idea but Arnie sends the abomination to talk to the other abomination before anyone can interject. Welp. Maybe they can confuse it to death?

​

Quietly they follow while notifying Nakam and Dragonbait of plans via Sending Stone, all converging on the 'torso' chamber where Odilon prowls. Arnie's Little Helper as envoy goes just as well as anyone could suspect. A snarling hiss is heard, the magic dog returns with glowing eyes to nearly bite Bertram's face off, and it's on! Handy Hands vs. Mummy!

​

Jumping right on top of the sarcophagus Krenko whips out his hand drums, mummy hissing from above as the former goblin tries to musically charm it back to rest. It's no use. This is full action time! Krenko's knives fly as most squeeze out on to the mezzanine level to pot shot at the snarling mummy, Peach and the heavy hitters running up from below to help Krenko to ward off invisible assailants. The mummy vanishes in a swirl of dust. Where did it go?!

​

"Krenko! Here!", says Nakam as he charges in. The ex-gladiator visibly whirrs as haste takes hold, beats per minute of the drums reaching a fever pitch. He spins wildly to strike any invisible attackers nearby, Dragonbait doing the same as Peach does her best to call out their locations. As earlier, the room grows cold. The spirits are growing more agitated!

​

The mummy reappears, reptilian snout opening to spew hundreds of bugs. Insect plague! A spell Arnie knows all too well. Get away! Those on the mezzanine trip over each other trying to escape flesh-eating insects with limited space, the mummy vanishing once again after Bertram and Arnie score a couple of solid hits. There's a flash from below as Peach destructive waves the remaining invisible skulkers, but NOW where did Odilon's corpse disappear to?

​

There! On the far side of the chamber! Nearly frothing at the mouth from extreme adrenaline the hasted Krenko runs right up the wall and down the hall to slash viciously at the mummy... and that's when the cold washes over him. Eyes glowing a strange magenta, Krenko turns around to stare hatefully at Peach. Like a bird of prey he violently swoops in.

​

"Krenko! Snap out of it!", Arnie shouts as Peach fends off Krenko's blades. It's no good. Not only is it no good, but with similar glowing eyes Dragonbait charges at Bertram slashing with his glowing sword. Two possessions. Not good. Best to end this quick if they can! As Bertram defensively backs up a shimmering cube materializes around Krenko.

​

"You need a time out!", Peach says. Forcecage saves the day!

​

Odilon's mummy vanishes then reappears again, but thankfully there's few places to hide in this open chamber. Arnie's searing rays light its bandages ablaze (DM: It's super effective!), the bandaged form skittering across the ceiling for cover like a weird flaming spider. It's just the opening Bertram needs. His magic flying axe hits the mummy square in the back, and with one final abrupt screech it collapses to the mezzanine. Almost immediately the air in the chamber loses some weight.

​

"What... hey.", says a confused Krenko, eyes returning to normal. "What am I inside... Peach! Let me out!"

​

She shakes her head. "Nuh uh, mister. After all you've done? You sit there and think about your actions!"

​

The spiteful argument between two former lovers quickly escalates to legendary intensity (DM: Fantastic roleplay and oh, I wish I had a recording of it, as toxic as it was!), leaving the rest awkwardly waiting for it to end. No such relief. As the debate rages they set about mortuary duties. Being an angry mummy probably wasn't Odilon's natural state, and with Nakam and Arnie's help Bertram interns the charred remains back into the sarcophagus to show proper respect.

​

"Rest, great hunter.", says the historian. Decayed gear lies within otherwise, though a noticeably pristine bow catches his eye. Magical, no doubt. Bertram's mind turns to the last time they stole from a crypt. Krenko lost a hand, among other repercussions, but this seems culturally different. Letting nothing go to waste is a time-honored lizardfolk tradition, is it not? Grabbing the bow before closing the lid, he hopes the Great Hunter will understand. "Your bow shall hunt again, Odilon."

​

And so the Handy Hands tend their wounds and inspect the anatomical chambers of Odilon's Shine once more, now feeling more like an old ruin rather than an oppression of hostile spiritual energy. Peach's vision confirms. The dead are back at rest, and one more good deed is under their belts.
 

​

(Level 16: Achieved! Hopefully this will earn some lizardfolk trust. What further mysteries does this incomplete dread plane hold, and how will the Handy Hands get home with their friends? Time will tell!)

​​

The trail is swift, if not utterly damp. Ever since leaving Bluefeather Roost to head south for Odilon's Shrine the day shifted from drizzle to outright downpour, not impacting Krenko's​ trailblazing though also not leaving a dry spot among the troupe.

​

"The Handy Hands help!", beams Arnie from on top Manos. "Just like old times, right guys?"

​

Bertram agrees. "We could do without the drenching, but I admit I'm very curious about this shrine... wait! Quiet!"

​

All hear it. As loud as the raindrops are, the tuneless whistle is unmistakable. The Uluu Thalongh. Quick! Hide! All scatter and go silent, larger companions doing their best to blend into tree formations. Branches unnaturally bend as the unseen force approaches, breathy whistle growing louder and louder. It lingers, searching... then moves on. Has it been following them? Hard to say. At least the rain helped obscure them, and the Uluu Thalongh - whatever it is - has moved on for now.

​

Hours later near a village is spotted in the foothills, but just like the one days before this one is found abandoned. Desire by some to push on relents to Bertram's curiosity and soon the Handy Hands find themselves among the wood and grass huts. This village is clearly more lizardfolk than human in construction, but still, no one is seen.

​

"Hey! Help!" The gang looks around. Dragonbait shrugs. It wasn't one of them. Again it's heard: "Hey! Help!"

​

"Hello?", Arnie shouts. "Can we help you? Are you in need of rescuing?"

​

"Hey! Help!" Same voice. Entirely different direction, though. The Handy Hands search for the source and find themselves near the forest's edge - nothing in sight, but repetition coming from a new location. Same voice, different locations. Things truly become suspicious when Arnie's own voice repeats from elsewhere.

​

"Careful Arnie.", Peach says, looking nervously at the abandoned huts. "This place isn't natural."

​

"Is there anybody really needing help out there?", yells Arnie. There's a grunt of pain in the distance.

​

"...Yes. Ambushed. Hurt." It's the same voice, but singular in location this time. "Do not come! Bait! They trap!"

 

The words 'hurt' and 'trap' repeat from other locations. Whatever is out there, it's apparently a vocal mimic! Something moves halfway of a large tree, hiding yet noticed by Peach and Bertram: A large colorful bear? No. Too many eyes and legs. There's stories of parrotbears - tropical relatives of owlbears with simple vocal ability - but this one seems either fused or hybridized with a giant spider. Gross.

​

Bertram shudders. "Arnie? This is one time when I think your 'burn everything' approach is probably the best solution."

​

"Right!", the handyman responds. Vegetation shears around the party, his blade barrier activating. "Let's do this!"

​

Mounting his flying scarecrow Bertram soars over Arnie's wall to fire salvos of eldritch blast at the obscured bear-bird-spider thing, a double explosion of fireball and delayed blast fireball from Arnie and Peach lighting up the soggy forest to reveal the motion of more monstrosities approaching. Peach looks around in confusion. Is she hearing light music?

​

"Uh. You guys hearing this? Lame music, then some voice saying 'Your scry is important to us, please hold...'"

​

"No! But Arnie, drop this stupid wall!", Krenko shouts. The handyman rebuffs, insisting the whirling barrier is for their safety even through it traps them within. The crocodile man sighs, throwing his returning axe at the eight-legged bear freaks.

​

Bertram flies upward towards another parrot-bear-spider sighting and successfully paralyzes it with hold monster, the new angle giving him a better sense of what lies in the thick foliage: A badly injured lizardfolk lies near a tree, another feathered bear with too many eyes and legs nearby and a fourth approaching from the right. "Over there!", he shouts back.

 

"On it!", responds Nakam. Mounting Feygllyyb the paladin soars over Arnie's blade wall right at the third mutant, his King Crab Claymore glowing as the giant sword slams into it. Divine light and flaming crabby energy erupt to severely burn and entangle it in long fiery pincers lashing out from the magical sword's hilt (DM: Paladin crits be nasty, yo!). Peach misty steps her way past Arnie's wall as the handyman fireballs again, Krenko and Dragonbait still stuck yet safely at range.

​

The same can't be said for Bertram. The fourth bear-thing skitters in, opening its mouth to projectile spit a large ball of web-like goo that hits the historian square in the chest, knocking him off Russell Scarecrow to the jungle floor. He struggles but it's no good. This gunk is tough. It doesn't help that his hold monster broke as well!

​

"We're coming Bertram!", Arnie yells, finally dispelling his blade barrier for Krenko and Dragonbait to charge ahead as the handyman jumps on Manos to ride into battle. He casts another fireball at the first monstrosity then... vanishes? Where Arnie and Manos were, only Manos remains.

 

Stars. Nebulas. A distant comet flies by. Arnie floats in wonder as the beautiful yet gravity-less void of space surrounds him in all directions. At least he can breathe, somehow? Inexplicably a gondola approaches, hooded figure standing between two others propelling it with a long stick. The others - a winged celestial and a horned fiend - pleasantly converse.

 

"Oh hey there, man.", says the fiend. "Need a ride?"

 

"Yes? I think? Say, exactly where am I anyw-"

 

Before he can finish his words the handyman feels a mighty pull, whipping through space-time to find himself sitting on Manos and riding towards a webbed Bertram once again. "Guys! I just went to SPACE!"

​

"That's great Arnie. Now help me. Out. Of. This!", responds Bertram. 

​

The fourth spider-bear buries its fangs deep though Bertram pulls free of the web and Arnie heals right after. First scorched mutant finished off Krenko and Dragonbait run to assist Nakam, though the paladin is doing a fine job himself terrorizing his monstrous prey. More globs of spit web fly though thankfully miss their targets.

​

Magic, though, gets weirder. No one has time to ask why Peach is emitting a stream of pink bubbles from her mouth before Nakam erupts in an explosion of light. Bertram soon follows after a spell of his own, both glowing like miniature suns. For better or worse the bard's Robe of Eyes sees all, Peach's vision going white as she stumbles forward to release a destructive wave that kills a second bear-spider-thing and drops a third to the ground. Arnie's searing ray unexpectedly turns him into an electrical conduit, frying Bertram's attacker and leaving just one.

 

The final mutant creature has no hope. Nakam and Dragonbait descend upon it and soon its over. Such hybrid meats are not to go to waste, however, and Krenko wastes no time helping himself to pre-cooked scorched spider legs and bear flank for a mid-day snack. After Peach spares some healing to get the injured lizardfolk up, she nods in appreciation.

​

"We're Sir Razzle and the Dazzlers!", announces Krenko. "We're but poor lost circus performers!" The lizardfolk, apparently a female hunter, is visibly confused though senses no ill intent.

​

"This one is Zula.", he says, starting to limp towards the village. "Come. Rest where it is safe." Out of harm's way, wounds are tended to further by Arnie before the questions come. What happened to this village? What WERE those things?

​

Zula ponders before answering. "The village, this one does not know. Many villages are now empty. The large ones remain, but sometimes the small... how you say... repopulate. Not here yet it seems. As for those..." She turns, spitting. "Sometimes people come back wrong. Sometimes animals too. They took my partner, then nearly killed this one. Bait. Bait for you." 

​

Peach nods. "That was really gross. Are there more like that?" Zula confirms, hinting at even more bizarre and disgusting combinations. The bard continues. "What's with magic here? I was blind and blowing bubbles for a hot minute!"

​

"And I went on a cosmic journey!", chimes in Arnie.

​

"Our druids say our land now crosses with others.", Zula says. Bertram confirms, sharing what he's been suspecting of the Feywild and Shadowfell being far closer than they should be. "They say people bind it, making the Bakumora more normal around villages. But where none live? Magic bleeds."

​

It isn't a perfect answer but it fits the pattern. Since arriving every time they've cast stronger spells out in the wild, things have had a good chance of going haywire. Zula explains that the nearby mountains are even worse: As one approaches the Bakumora's steep borders, reality almost seems to fall apart. It's almost an intriguing thing to go witness, but no, for now the Handy Hands retain plans to restore Odilon's Shrine.

​

Healed and not wishing to stay with strangers even if friendly, Zula thanks the gang, wishes them the best in dealing with the shrine sacred to her people, then takes off north back to Bluefeather Roost. There's a few hours of daylight left, but do they really wish to continue on and sleep near a shrine with undead troubles? Perhaps not. Eerie as it is, this village will do.

​

*         *         *

​

*Scratch.* *Shhrrrk.* *Scratch.* *Shhrrrk.*

​

After a day of rain the slight moonlight is a welcome break for Arnie on night watch. What's that noise, though? Until now it's been the occasional whisper from nonexistent villagers, but this is coming from within the hut where his friends sleep. He looks in expecting to see Krenko kicking in his sleep again. The handyman's eyes go wide. It definitely isn't.

​

Long clawed fingers on an even longer arm dig into the floorboards, dragging itself - and Krenko's Bag of Holding - across the floor. *Scratch.* *Shhrrrk.* It takes until it reaches Bertram's neck before Arnie gathers his wits.

​

"WAKE UP! HAND! EVIL... ARM THING! BERTRAM!", the cleric shouts.

​

The Handy Hands shoot awake just in time to blearily see the long arm retreat back into Krenko's bag. What in the Hells was that?! When the bard-barian-ificer risks it and fishes inside the enchanted sack to find nothing, it skeeves out everyone.

​

"You better strap that thing to your chest, Krenko. Tightly!", Peach says.

​

There's no argument. Bag of Holding tightly secured, the first morning light starts to break the dark sky. Well, they're all up now. May as well head out early. Soon enough Cobbler, Manos, and Feygllyyb are loaded up and the troupe continues on.

​

Mere hours later a visible trail is found and quickly leads them to the western wall of the Bakumora where red rock cliffs shoot upwards. Carved right out of a particularly vertical section is quite the sight: A massive lizardfolk statue easily three times the size of a giant sits serenely in the cliffside, eyes closed and hands on knees. This must be it. Odilon's Shrine! 

​

Bertram wastes no time. A historic site in the far reaches of the world? How can an archaeologist resist! Inspection from Russell Scarecrow reveals much of the age, architecture, and level of reverence of this lizardfolk-shaped shrine. Those of  Bluefeather Clan said that this was a place of greatness among their people, and despite the shrine's wear it shows.

​

"Uhh. Boys?", says Peach, interrupting the archaeological geek-out. "There's... a lot here you can't see."

​

Eyes on her Robe of Eyes darting around, the eladrin bard explains. Invisibly and ethereally walking and floating around is an entire host of restless lizardfolk spirits. Odilon's Shrine is haunted as all heck! Yet they came this far. Who would the Handy Hands be if they turned around from a job they had committed to? Two tunnels heading into either foot of this giant statue. One roshambo later, the right-most one is chosen, and into Odilon's Shrine's darkened tunnels they proceed...

​​​​

"Feeling okay there, guy?", the paladin asks. Nakam and the others didn't really know how to say it to Arnie. Since waking up he's looked pallid and, how to say it... slimy? ​

​

"Oh. I had a little something to drink last night.", he responds, fingers freakishly elongating as he grabs his mug. After all of the poison arrows last night he thought it time to test drive a strange ooze-like symbiote he had found in Aremag's massive hoard. Sure, if you die while bonded to it you turn into an ooze, but why not live a little while stuck in creepy weird Fogville?

​

"Speaking of last night.", pipes up Bertram. "Nakam? What the fuck! You nearly got yourself killed!"

​

The changeling shrugs. "Just something one needs to do, y'know?" The others don't precisely, but it's clear Nakam isn't too keen to talk about it and, despite flaws, the Handy Hands have always had strong emotional awareness. Bertram's further inquiry finds Nakam willing to throw himself into harm's way for nearly any oppressed people, which gets the historian wondering about what exactly led the changeling to masquerade as a Biff Longsteel and come to Chult.

​

Breakfast talk in Kayebo shifts to future affairs. They came for Artus and Dragonbait, found one stuck in a block, and now find themselves unable to leave. Now what? Sharing what they know of lizardfolk hostilities and what Bertram learned of Domains of Dread, options are considered. Dealing with this Treespeaker Fotari is a hot item. But what's the deal with the lizardfolk? Why did historic peace fail, tensions now verging towards human genocide?

​

The gang shrugs: Why not just go ask them? The home of the assailants - Bluefeather Roost - isn't too far away. As outsiders perhaps the Handy Hands can pry for info where local humans cannot. How to approach the aggressive denizens, though, that is a question. Go in spells blazing, as Peach suggests? A sneaky infiltration, per Bertram's notion?

​

"I've got it!", exclaims Krenko. "We pose as entertainers!"

​

Arnie nearly leaps to his feet. "Yes! That's it! Traveling circus performers!"

​

Immediately all other plans are discarded. A circus they will be: the 'Cirque du Hisari'! The airship is too risky an approach so plans are set in motion to travel on foot with Cobbler, Manos, and Feygllyyb as their menagerie. Finding Dragonbait among their ship crew helping repair burnt homes, the saurial is easily convinced to join. After some time gathering costumes and props and consorting with chieftain Onyeka for more insight, the Handy Hands set out into the dense rainforest.

​

Sweltering heat, gargantuan trees above and thick underbrush ahead, strange animal calls. It's been a while, but it almost feels... good! One could say treks like these are what made the Handy Hands - this is how they got to know Chult in intimate detail and became the tight-knit band that ended the Death Curse.

​

Despite high spirits it is hard to ignore the differences. The whispers into Bertram's ear as he flies around on the scarecrow. A monkey with a face on each side of its head. Another small river that occasionally runs with blood. The Bakumora isn't the usual jungle fair by a long stretch, its disconcerting oddities reminding all to stay on guard. The day's rain lets up as night approaches, Peach's trusty tiny hut goes up, and all try their best to get some sleep.

​

Only insects buzz in the dead of night. Krenko cocks his head. Something shuffles nearby. A lone velociraptor sniffs... then turns. Where the tapered snout should be is instead a jaw-less circle of concentric teeth into a black void. Gah! Axe it! The crocodile-man's thrown blade sends the monstrosity screeching into the woods, axe whipping back to his hand with artificer engineering. The night is quiet once again, the thing thankfully not returning alone or with friends. Good.

​

*         *         *

​

"Did someone move my bag?", Krenko asks in the morning. Others shrug. Huh. His Bag of Holding being up on the far side of the campsite makes no sense. Well, never mind for now. There's a lizardfolk village to deceive just a mile or so away!

​

Even obscured at a distance Bluefeather Roost is quite the sight. To call it a series of treehouses does both the trees and the homes disservice. Ancient and massive trunks stretch upward where entire village blocks' worth of homes wrap around in multiple layers, each interconnected with a series of walkways, swinging bridges, and spiral staircases. True to Bertram's studies it appears that lizardfolk are indeed masters of using their environment's resources.

​

"Okay gang. Remember the plan?", Arnie asks. The rest nod. "Krenko, here's your script. Break a leg!"

​

Bertram and the handyman take to the canopy on Russell Scarecrow as the rest quickly prepare. Nakam's form stretches, growing a tail and scales to go full lizardfolk as Peach, Krenko, and Dragonbait put on circus performer costumes. Once Manos, Cobbler, and Feygllyyb are in position, the former goblin wastes no time striding right out towards the treehouse village. Immediately guards are seen on high, bow strings tensing. Krenko grins and waves.

​

"Hello fellow lizardfolk!" Krenko pauses. Applause doesn't come. "I’m SIR RAZZLE and these are my DAZZLERS, renowned realm-wide as the FINEST circus performers in Chultan HISTORY!" The crocodilian poses. Still no applause. "*Ahem*... Here we are now, entertainers! We feel lucid, and prestigious! A juggler! A singer! A trapezer! My big ego!"

​

Peach rocks the music! Nakam and Dragonbait do their best 'strongman' flexes! The less humanoid companions frolic like trained circus animals! More and more reptilian heads of various colors and ages emerge above to look down at what is likely the oddest spectacle this village has ever seen. With a point and a wink Peach manifests a solid illusory stage, herself and Krenko jumping on top to flourish towards the audience above. 

​

"Come one, come all!", continues Krenko, jumping on the stage. "Lend us your ears and-"

​

"You may take our ears off our corpses!", a lizardfolk shouts down from above.

​

Crap! Right! He'd entirely forgotten of Bertram informing that traditional lizardfolk societies are very literal in their language. "Ah. Apologies! My time with the soft-skins and speaking their tongues has confused me. What I mean is show us your attention, and you will be entertainingly distracted from this rainy morning!"

​

"And you?", another shouts down to Nakam. "Why does one so large travel with smaller soft-skins?" The paladin smiles and nods. Uh oh. It's all been in Draconic up to now, which only Krenko speaks. Nakam has no idea what is going on!

​

Meanwhile in the canopy above, Arnie stretches. "No explosions yet. Must be going well!"

​

"Ya. Surprisingly! Hold on..." Bertram pauses, reaching for his Sending Stone after hearing a stilted exchange through Nakam's matching pair. "Nakam! Listen! Repeat after me! 'I show them strength, they show me wits, and we all survive.'"

​

The paladin-in-lizardfolk-form tries his best to repeat the Draconic syllables. It works, he thinks? It didn't seem insulting, at least. After another wonky exchange a solitary figure - a frail old lizard-woman - descends the closest gargantuan tree. The hunched figure walks alone towards the bizarre troupe utterly unafraid, stopping next to Nakam to peer up in his eyes and pinch his bulging bicep.

​

She nods. "I would eat this one."

​

"It's a compliment, Nakam!", Bertram hisses over the Sending Stone. "Tell Krenko and the rest! COMPLIMENT!"

​

The fearless elder makes the rounds, eventually deeming the Cirque du Hisari either worthy or not a threat. Hard to say. Maybe both. When request is made to speak to the village's leaders she invites all, even the ones in the sky... making it clear that they've been on guard the entire time.

 

Up the staircase the troupe goes, Bluefeather Roost's denizens of all ages emerging to gawk at the odd arrivals. It's clear that there's a more martial vibe here compared to Kayebo, though despite reptilian natures they are people nonetheless. When the leader of last night's raid is spotted in the crowd there's a twinge of concern, but with Nakam in disguise they are thankfully unrecognizable.

​

"This one is Ouida. Spirit guide to the Bluefeather.", the old lizard-woman declares. "Our chief awaits. Come. Finger?"

​

The last bit throws them off, yet there's no mistaking the bag of assorted humanoid fingers that Ouida is offering as snacks. Krenko's in! All but Arnie politely take one, some throwing the digits over shoulder when no one is looking. Inside a central structure on the second tier of the Roost, a pale grey scaled lizardfolk the size of a goliath serves himself from a cauldron. He raises his chin in greeting and motions for the 'Dazzlers' to join him, uttering just a single word: "Eat."

​

Well, Bertram thinks, When in Chult... The historian helps himself to what is clearly a chunk of braised and slow-cooked lizardfolk. Cannibalism? Perhaps. But when 'I would eat you' is a compliment, who is he to deny local custom? Krenko eagerly grabs a big chunk, Peach and Nakam also doing their best to be polite. Arnie crinkles his nose at first, then winces in realization. That slight divine odor from the char. These were his fireball victims from last night! HE braised this meat!

​

"So." Chieftain Voshk starts after the ceremonial show of good faith. "You are more than 'circus'. Why do you come?"

​

Insightful fellow. In a (mostly) honest dialogue the Handy Hands explain they are searching for answers. What happened to the Bakumora from their perspective? Why do the Bluefeather attack Kayebo? Is this 'Uluu Thalongh' spirit involved?

​

To the last question Voshk and Ouida have no answer - the Uluu Thalongh is just as much of a threat to them as others. As for aggression towards humans it is because they believe humans to be at fault for causing their homeland to fall into misty shadow. This Fotari fellow perhaps, but humans at large? What gave the lizardfolk that idea?

​

"The Big Ones.", Voshk states matter-of-factly. The Big Ones?

​

It turns out there's more than Treespeaker Fotari dwelling around this Temple of Omi Keyoka - also learned to be an ancient yuan-ti site. 'The Big Ones' who live near there are apparently evolved or mutated lizardfolk of some sort, and true to traditional lizardfolk values, 'stronger' and 'wiser' are quick pulls for deferential behavior. These Big Ones are convinced that getting rid of humans will restore the Bakumora, and so many lizardfolk clans in the region are inclined to follow.

​

"What would it take to show you that the Big Ones may be wrong?", asks Peach.

​

Voshk shrugs. "Be bigger than the Big Ones."

​

"Or...", Ouida interjects, "Aid the Bluefeather, and the Bluefeather will aid you. I tell you now of Odilon's Shrine."

​

Odilon is a figure of legend - the greatest lizardfolk hunter the Bakumora had ever seen. Once he passed his remains were interred, the location quickly becoming a site of pilgrimage of all lizardfolk clans. Since the sundering of the Bakumora's planar borders, however, it seems the shrine has become a hotbed of ghostly activity.

​

Krenko beams. "Trek the jungle to old places, kill some undead? Classic! This will be just like old times!"

​

Maybe? Perhaps! The Handy Hands have always loved themselves a quest to help the locals. Soft-skin, scaly-skin, either will do. These so-called Big Ones will be dealt with in time. First, it's off to purge a shrine.

​

With Arnie finally convinced to nibble at some self-roasted lizardfolk raider flesh, rations are shared in return to seal the deal in a culturally acceptable show of cooperation. Meat goes around - a symbol stronger than words in this community - and soon the Sir Razzle and the Dazzlers are on their way south. The Handy Hands help all... even reptile people!

​​​​

Arnie's Flying Helper lingers a distance away, not wanting to draw attention without knowing the situation. Kayebo burns, but why? Mounting Feygllyyb Nakam flies in for some recon. Arcing over the jungle canopy the paladin draws close to the clearing where the entrance to the small town lies, more orange glows seen flying through the dark. Fire arrows. A dinosaur-mounted force at the gate. This isn't an accident. Kayebo is under siege.

​

Something goes off inside him. Far from friends and unknown enemies be damned, this can't happen again! Furiously Nakam dives from the sky, greatsword drawn, swimming upstream into a hail of arrows.

​

"Crap.", says Arnie, watching through his scope. "Nakam's in danger! He went in alone!"

​

"LET'S ROLL!", shouts Krenko, wasting no time to dive off the airship.

​

"Arnie, here! Like we practiced!", says Bertram, tossing the handyman a rope as the warlock mounts the flying scarecrow. Vest of Levitation activated Arnie is towed behind like a balloon, the massive shape of a polymorph'd Peach soaring past in quetzalcoatlus form. Leaves shred below as the crocodile-man rips through the canopy, activating feather fall a split second before impacting the ground and taking off in a wild sprint. Hold on, Nakam! Help is on the way!

​

Feygllyyb corkscrews, deftly evading the bulk of the anti-air fire though both mount and rider take a few hits. Poison tipped arrows. This could get painful in the air. To the ground, then!

​

Nakam leaps off, a battle-ready paladin diving into the midst of a cavalry of lizardfolk. The arcing swing from his King Crab Claymore hits the siege's leader viciously, causing the lizardfolk to jump off their allosaurus mount and seek cover. Lieutenants whip around, slashing down from their hadrosauruses as another salvo from hidden archers 'kill' the celestial griffon and turn Nakam into a pincushion. It isn't looking good. Their leader shouts. What's that huge black shape in the air?

​

Another arrow salvo, but towards the shape! Nakam watches as a massive flying dinosaur tumbles out of the air, flops to the ground in eladrin form, then quickly polymorphs into a T-rex and roars. A deadly insect swarm erupts around the mounted lizardfolk from... a balloon man? It's Peach and Arnie to the rescue! The dino cavalry escapes the insects to circle around Nakam, the paladin doing his best to Lay on Hands to stay alive as archers lay into himself and approaching threats.

​

And threats they are! Bertram soars into eldritch blast range as Krenko rips out of the underbrush, the former nearly taking out a lieutenant as the latter's throwing axe sinks into the allosaurus that Peach is currently fighting. Arnie's airborne mass healing word keeps both Peach and Nakam in the fight as the paladin is a whir of steel, cutting down two of the cavalry. The former goblin arrived just in time, murdering the allosaurus as the siege's leader reverts Peach to elf form, the bard once again shapeshifting into a T-rex. As Arnie drops to heal Nakam, Bertram angles to just the right position.

​

*KROOSH*! What a cone of cold! The historian's torrent of frost takes out nearly half the battlefield, turning a lieutenant and half of the hidden archers into frozen statues. Their leader, the remaining cavalry, and other half of the archers go into full retreat... but not quick enough. *FOOM*! Arnie's fireball explodes the retreating force, screams sounding from the trees.

​

A beautiful (if not war crimes-worthy) display of ice and fire greets the emerging townsfolk of Kayebo. Weaponized tools in hand, they look on in confusion at their mysterious saviors. After some calls, a tall stick of an old sagely man emerges.

​

"Eh dupe, shujaa.", he says before noting blank looks. "Common, yes? Many thanks to you, warriors! But... who are you?"

​

"We're the Handy Hands!", announces Arnie. "And we're here to help!"

​

A great shape looms behind as Arnie's Flying Helper finally arrives, Dragonbait rappelling down and jogging forward. The old man's eyes light up in recognition as the saurial hoots and waves.

​

"You found friends!", he says. "I am Uzoma, spirit guide to Kayebo... and Kayebo is on fire. Come. To the water buckets!"

​

The town is a mess but it could be worse. Quickly working with villagers over the next hour or so Kayebo's wood structures with thankfully minimal losses. Most don't know what to think of the giant animated skeleton hand dunking scoops of water, nor the young T-rex with butterfly wings and his still-polymorph'd mother sharing a bonding moment in spitting creek water on roofs, but the extra help is more than appreciated. Meanwhile a shade summoned by Bertram searches the surrounding jungle for the escaped lizardfolk leader, though no surviving raiders are found lingering.

​

It's near midnight by the time the medicine man guides the Handy Hands up to the meeting hall. Within, with a particularly large tiger guarding her and an odd smoky quartz monolith nearby, the leader of Kayebo convalesces and awaits.

​

"Dragonbait! A welcome return!", says the dark-skinned middle aged woman from a bed, wincing as her bandaged leg moves. "My name is Onyeka, chieftain of Kayebo. 'The Handy Hands', I am told? Please, join me."

​

"You're hurt. May I see?", Arnie asks. She nods. Her left thigh is a grievous wound, but he has at least a bit of skill in mending. The odd odor is immediate and familiar: Onyeka suffers from the same arrow poison that he just spent a while purging from Nakam's body. He's got this! Poison cleansed, wound put in a better state, late night talk commences.

​

"You are all human here, and lizardfolk attacked.", notes Bertram. "Is not the Valley of Dread a place of mixed peoples?"

​

The chieftain nods. "Historically, yes. The Bluefeather Clan were allies. Some time ago most lizardfolk started to pull away from their neighbors... after 'it' happened. After it all happened." She looks at Dragonbait. "Do they not know?" He shakes his head. Hearing of the Handy Hands' experiences earlier in the day, Onyeka does her best to give context. 

​

Around eight months ago at the height of the Death Curse, the previous spiritual leader of Kayebo was getting increasingly desperate to help his people. Treespeaker Fotari's search for new remedies found a growing energy source that - in his religious devotion to the old ways - he believed to be Ubtao returning to Chult. He brought the sick to it, the energy source consumed them, and Fotari took it as sign that Ubtao was reclaiming his people. Fotari fell deeper and deeper into fervor, eventually sacrificing his own cousin to the energy, the well-loved previous chieftain and father to Onyeka.

 

That was when the mists came. Even though the Death Curse has long ended, the mists stayed, and the Bakumora remains a cursed realm which few have been able to leave or return. Fotari's tragedy weighs on the land... where the dead return, empty villages repopulate themselves, malformed beasts stalk the land, and war breeds between peoples.

​

"Our attackers dwell to the south, in Bluefeather Roost.", Onyeka continues. "The lizardfolk clans have become convinced that humans are to blame for what happened to the Bakumora, and that by driving us out the curse will be lifted. It is said that others influence them - lizardfolk who live near the Temple of Omi Keyoka, where Fotari resides."

​

A cursed land, a fallen medicine man, and rival tribes. Sounds manageable. A creepy landscape full of soulless recreations, mutant abominations, and disturbing magics that won't let you escape? They do throw some kinks into things.

​

"And the whistling? The forest coming alive to rip people apart?", asks Peach. "Did that start eight months ago too?"

​

The chieftain and spirit guide look at each other before answering. No. That is something else entirely. Do the new visitors know the legend of the Uluu Thalongh? When met with blank stares, Uzoma explains. Long has a hunger haunted the Valley of Dread. The pure essence of hunger - always eating, never satisfied.

​

"Since the mists descended after Treespeaker Fotari's deeds, the Uluu Thalongh is heard far more than in myth. It is real, it stalks, and is always hungry. Is it trapped like us? I am not sure. But it is here, so it feeds."

​

"Let's not forget the literal statue in the room!", adds Dragonbait after asking Bertram for a cast of tongues. The saurial knocks on the smoky quartz monolith. That shape inside of it... it's Artus Cimber! "He tried to use the Ring of Winter to ward off the Bluefeather Clan in an earlier attack. Next thing we knew, he's encased in dark ice. Been that way for weeks."

​

Nakam scans. Despite his condition Artus seems alive in there. Dispel magic and greater restoration from Peach and Arnie have no apparent effect. Weird. Whatever magic runs rampant in this land, it's holding Artus as hard as stone for now.

​

All of this information is a lot to take in at any hour, let alone late at night after a day full of hazards. Chieftain Onyeka lends a vacant home and all retire for the evening. There's much to discuss, but for now? Sleep. For Nakam there's also the matter of re-summoning his griffon whom he flew to its death hours before. After the ritual and a shine of celestial energy, an unblinking eagle face slowly turns to glare at the paladin.

​

"I know, buddy. I know. Sorry. At least you're back now", says Nakam. Feygllyyb stares. "It was just... the village, the fires, and people under attack, you know? It's hard to think about."

​

The paladin trails off in thought. As the griffon accepts apology by curling into Nakam's bed, the rest trail off into sleep.

​

*         *         *

​

The grass mat sinks into the floor. He emerges upside-down, easily righting with a thought into a color-drained mirror reversal of Kayebo. Once again, the swirling lament of the Shadowfell lies before Bertram Frode.

​

"Hello Mr. Fro- sorry, Bertram. Did you feel my pull?", says the pale elven woman before him.

​

"I did, Agamaya, and hello in return.", he responds. "No doubt we can explore things as others cannot, yes?"

​

"Indeed. Follow me."

​

The avatar of his patron's servant drifts outward and upward, his own spiritual projection following. Beyond Kayebo and up the bordering mountains they go, halting to levitate at the dense barrier fog's edge. Bertram and Agamaya touch it, wispy tendrils curling around their hands as if they had minds of their own.

​

"It's the Shadowfell, Bertram. Though... not entirely. Our Raven Queen has no say. Have you heard of the Dark Powers?"

​

The historian's interest is piqued, and his companion explains. The Dark Powers are autonomous entities of the Shadowfell, obsessed with inflicting misery on those who cause tragedy. Unfortunately it is also to the detriment to the homeland of such individuals, pulling the very world around them to form demiplanes of eternal torment.

​

"They are called Domains of Dread, and I suppose the 'victim' would be lord of that dread land. This Treespeaker Fotari, his actions, and following events fit the Dark Powers' pattern." Agamaya pauses. "What does not make sense is why the Bakumora is still tethered to the Material Plane, months after Fotari's deeds."

​

Bertram nods. "Your explanation fits, but not entirely. Shall we gather more information?"

​

Agamaya starts to respond. Words repeat. Mist and mountain fade. With a sudden gasp, Bertram wakes in a warm sweat.

​​​​

"Everyone, I have an announcement.", says Peach, breaking up the morning quiet. "After yesterday's fun I'm going sober. It was too close a call. My son almost caught me using! I smelled my shame... and it smelled like brussels sprouts!"

​

Arnie and Bertram nod, voicing agreement. It got weird. Too weird. Breakfast's pancakes aren't talking as they are being eaten like last night's dinner did, which is perfectly fine by them. Maybe they should consider a break as well. There's hardly any pushback when Peach asks others to be good role models as well and not do drugs in front of Cobbler.

​

"Do drugs in front of Cobbler.", says Krenko. Peach glares. "I mean, do drugs WITH Cobbler. Got it!"

​

The annoyed look from Peach is ignored as the 'bard-barian-ificer' shows off his new tech. A burlap bag with a magic interior. A handaxe that returns after being thrown. Neat! Come reaching the Bakumora, they should be useful travel perks.

​

The sky, however, seems to have other plans. Morning clouds grow darker until, on the horizon, an immense stormfront is seen approaching. They've seen such skies. A typhoon brews. They could could try to get above it, but who knows how high those thunderheads go? Peach trains her eyes below, looking at Bertram after she spies a canopy opening. It could work.

​

"Follow me! I'll guide you in!", calls Bertram. He jumps on the flying broom known as Russell Scarecrow, casting light as he takes off. Their very own Rudolph to guide their 'sled'. Excellent! Soon Arnie's Flying Helper is quickly settled into the jungle nook, all hands on deck battening down the hatches. Rains turns to downpour, winds rip through the trees, thunder shakes to the core, then... the storm weakens? Arnie climbs up from below deck, eyes glowing blue over a big smile.

​

"Hi guys!", he says. "I'm fixing the weather!"

​

"When did he start following a weather god instead of a flaming death god?", Nakam mutters as they take it in. Yup. Arnie's will is definitely affecting the skies for the better. May as well take advantage of the situation! Ten minutes or so later the airship rises once again to a wild sight: Arnie's newfound ability to control weather isn't exactly stopping the storm, it's only making a storm-free bubble! No one can complain. They'll take it. And so the airship continues southward throughout the afternoon, a bizarre airborne sailing vessel at the nexus of a fair weather zone, wind and lightning still raging at a distance in all directions. One can only imagine what a jungle local witnessing from below would think.

​

If the map is correct then the Bakumora should be just ahead. The geographic border can't be seen in the typhoon, though there is a wall of fog that they're quickly approaching. Shouldn't Arnie's magic be keeping it at bay? Seemingly not, Nakam mounts up on Feygllyyb to investigate. It's unnatural to the paladin's eyes. It almost seems to follow him as he soars by, wispy tendrils of moisture moving hypnotically. Out of curiosity he reaches out to touch it... and vanishes, pulled inside.

​

By the time the others consider possible dangers its too late to divert. The sound of the storm fades as the airship flies into the dense fog. Even the motion of the air fades. In utter stillness and muted silence, they drift. Bertram calls into the void.

​

"Yeah!", comes a distant reply. "Over here!" Like a lighthouse beacon the changeling paladin alights with daylight to give some sense of space in the otherwise featureless sky. Communicating with Sending Stones, Nakam and Bertram scout. 'Up' is odd. The paladin swears he's flying upward to find the top of this mess, but to others his lighthouse glow just drifts some short distance above. 'Forward' gets better results. He leads the way, griffon navigating through to the other side of the wall of fog as the airship follows. There, beyond and suffering simply an overcast day rather than a typhoon, is their goal.

 

The Bakumora. This is the right place. It has to be. But it's... off. Beyond the still and silent wall of fog strong enough to stop a tropical storm lies a land that feels incomplete. The Chultan jungles continue, but the colors feel drained, repressed. Birds and dinosaurs call, but its far from the forest cacophony they've experienced elsewhere. A river below them flows not with water, but rather blood. Or does it? Red shifts to muddy brown. Minutes later it shifts back to red.

​

"Well. That isn't good.", says Peach. "There's a village ahead. What if we scout less conspicuously?"

​

The others agree. Mooring down in a canopy opening and Krenko staying behind to guard, the rest descend to the forest floor. It's no less 'off' at ground level. The jungle is as alive as ever, but paired with the quiet and lack of vibrancy, it's eerie.

 

"HELLO!", shouts Arnie, reaching the village. "HANDY HANDS HERE! ANYONE HOME?" The only response is silence.

 

Thatched wall homes stand on stilts having all the look of a jungle community, but nothing is seen nor heard. No people. No signs of life. No signs of death either, for what it's worth. Just... nothing. Until the sound of breathing. It's right next to Nakam! Or is it? The paladin whips around to find no one. Peach's Robe of Eyes also spies nothing. 

​

Meanwhile the historian scouts alone, stealthing around the village. There, he thinks. A child's voice! Following a soft weeping brings Bertram to the window of one of the homes. Slowly he peers inside and - nothing. No one. The sound of unfamiliar voices cause him to hurriedly climb inside and hide... again from nothing? Looking outward, no one walks by. The voices go by indeed, talking of mundane matters, but nothing is seen. What is this place?

​

Mr. Fro- Bertram? Agamaya, his patron's servant and constant companion, psychically connects. Do you feel that? It feels like... like... home! There's a notable emotional edge on her otherwise stoic mind-voice. Bertram thinks about it. Yes. The dreams in which he explores the realm of his patron. The energy of her domain is thick in this village. Agamaya, are you saying that we somehow crossed into the Shadowfell?, he thinks back. The elven entity isn't sure how to respond.

 

After scouting more homes, the group reconvenes. Arnie speaks up. "I don't like this place. It gives me the creeps."

​

"I'm wondering if we're even in Chult any longer.", says Bertram. "Are any of you familiar with the Shadowfell?"

​

"Where I come from eladrin parents tell their kids never to go there. That's where the bad people are.", Peach responds.

​

"It reminds me of when I dream of my patron, the Raven Queen. What was it that Miryem said when she was relaying the vision? 'Past, future, here, there, tearing, repairing…' I'm wondering if we're experiencing more than one timeline at once? Or if we even on our own plane any more?"

​

It gets Peach thinking. Her scrys on Artus and Dragonbait barely worked earlier. What about now? Thinking of the odorous warrior once again her Crystal Ball swirls. Instead of a fuzzy image, instantly a clear picture appears.

​

"Oh boy.", she says. "I think you may be right. Wherever we are, it isn't exactly Chult!" There's no time to ponder further before a figure walks around the corner. It's Arnie. A second Arnie. The original stares back wide-eyed. He's seen his mutant clone before, but this one is perfectly him.

​

"Oh! Hello!", Second Arnie says in a Chultan voice that is clearly not Arnie's. "I'm headed to the river. Care to go fishing?"

​

Bertram follows, casually chatting while investigating. This is a person, real and true, yet clearly only Arnie in image. How can this be? The mystery deepens when Nakam relays what his own Divine Sense feels. It may be a person, but there's no inner spark. That second Arnie has no soul.

​

"Dear Jungle!", shouts the real Arnie. "Please stop being so freaky! Thank you!" In response a woman appears at the forest's edge where no one was a split second ago. She stares with large eyes, walks behind a tree, and doesn't appear on the other side. Yeah. It's enough to make everyone wish to leave. Peach's scry showed Dragonbait near a blood red river. Perhaps they follow the nearby one upstream to hopefully find him?

​

The disconcert keeps coming. Second Arnie is found fishing with two others, fully oblivious to any oddities. Chatting ends with Arnie being called by a different name, Second Arnie laughing and dissipating, and a new fisherman emerging that somehow speaks with Cobbler's voice. Time to leave indeed. Nearly an hour upriver they find terrain that matches what was seen in Peach's Crystal Ball. 

​

"Go go Little Helper!", exclaims Arnie. The little black dog statue turns into the talking abomination that it is, moments later locating the saurial champion in an old hollow tree trunk, scents of flowers and sulfur pungently wafting as he swings wildly at the magic canine until he. He freezes at the sight of the Handy Hands. It takes Bertram slowly approaching with hands raised to get close enough to cast tongues, the scents and high-pitched whistles of Dragonbait's language coming to form.

​

"You're real? ACTUALLY real?", he says incredulously. "Why in the NINE HELLS are you all here?!"

​

"We're here to save you!", Peach says. "Crocodile visions, old girlfriends. Long story. What are YOU doing here?"

​

All settle in as their old ally exposits. Not long ago he and Artus found something: an old artifact that the ranger believes to be a major clue as to what really happened to Mezro, and his wife along with the city. The trail led to the Bakumora, where later, in defense of a town, Artus' dangerous Ring of Winter backfired. Dragonbait set out alone for help, but has found himself unable to escape the supernatural fog.

​

"So magic is weird here. So's the fog.", Dragonbait continues. "There's the land... bleeding waters, strange animals. Then there's the people. Sometimes they're people. Sometimes they're wrong. I saw myself once!" The others nod knowingly. The slight break allows nearby voices to pierce through. Crouching down the gang sees foragers - two of them - pass by jovially chatting about village life. A distance behind them a sound is heard. A tuneless whistle.

​

"...And then there's THAT.", the saurial whispers. "Hide! Don't make a sound!"

​

The foragers hardly notice. By the time they notice the growing volume and pitch of whistling approaching them, it's too late. With astounding speed the forest erupts into violent chaos: branches, small trees, and undergrowth shredding the screaming villagers in seconds, limbs and sprays of blood thrown by some unseen force. The whistle grows softer. The Handy Hands tense, not daring make the slighted noise. *snap*. A twig cracks under Dragonbait's weight.

 

"RUN!", he screams. He hardly need ask. The whistle grows to fever pitch, and the Handy Hands flee for their lives!

​

No time is wasted as the forest surges forward with alarming speed. Peach magically takes to the air as Nakam mounts his griffon, grabbing Arnie as he launches off, Bertram and Dragonbait riding tandem on the flying scarecrow. From tree to tree the forest animates, one jungle giant after another snapping to life to swing massive limbs at the flying brigade. 

​

They can't all outpace this. Countermeasures, fast! Bertram and D.B. switch drivers, the former dropping underneath to fire off eldritch blasts to shatter branches as they quickly close in. An ember drops from Peach's hand as Nakam soars ahead, Arnie grasped in the griffon's claws below and letting loose an ember of his own. *Ka-BOOM*! The double fireball and delayed blast fireball collapses one huge tree as the one next to it animates. Nakam sunders a thick branch of the new tree as it swings and misses him, though it's clear escaping through the canopy before it closes in is a gamble.

​

"New plan!", shouts Peach. "Teleport! Everyone to me!"

​

The griffon and the scarecrow angle for the flying bard, narrowly avoiding yet more incoming branches. What is this force?! The historian's eyes glow in desperation to track whatever this is - and sees it. Arcane magic, divine energy, primal forces... all of it. A torrent of swirling chaos moving from tree to tree like a crazed predator. There's hardly time to process the sight when: *ssshhhhhooooom*! The world becomes sideways.

​

The panicked screams turn to grunts of pain as the Handy Hands manifest on the deck of Arnie's Flying Helper, Peach's teleport carrying their momentum to slam them into parts of the ship and each other. Krenko blinks in confusion.

​

"What WAS that?!", Nakam asks, catching his breath.

​

"Colors!", stutters Bertram. "Magic. All of the magic. Pure and hostile! I don't even know where to start explaining it."

​

Entirely freaked out, the immediate decision is easy: do NOT go back down into the forest. Though it's sunset, all believe it's not a good idea to stay. Dragonbait mentioned that Artus was stuck not too far from here, at a village called Kayebo. Perhaps it'd be a good place to visit and make some sense of all this?

​

Through dusk they travel. Around an hour later a distant tuneless whistle is heard far behind, trees shaking. Whatever it is, they've lost it for now. An hour after that night torches of Kayebo come into view in the black sky. No. Not torches.

​

Kayebo is on fire.

​​​​

Clouds slowly part to let in the dawn's light as Arnie's Flying Helper approaches the huge inland Lake Luo from the north. Even from this distance the geothermic activity is obvious. Hazy steam blankets the lake, mud bogs burble below, and distant geysers occasionally erupt around the shoreline. It all looks less than safe, but that's no deterrent for Arnie Lambert! The handyman runs up deck wearing nothing but swimming trunks and a towel around his neck.

​

"Spa day, guys! I'm so ready- WHOA!" The ship lurches. "Peach, stop scrying and driving!

​

"What? No I'm not...", replies the bard behind the ship's wheel, clearly putting her Crystal Ball away. The airship soon is over the lake proper but the crew isn't so sure of Arnie's notions of cannonballing off the plank. This air is crazy hot. No signs of life in the water at all. And is it boiling in places? On the south horizon rivers of lava from the distant Peaks of Flame empty right into Lake Luo, and presumably even hotter waters. How about the north shore? Eyes turn when Arnie points out what looks like a massive body laying on the shore. Interesting. Let's approach!

​

"AHOY!", the handyman shouts down as the slowly fly near. "Hello down there!"

​

The body moves, and rapidly! The 20-foot giant feminine form dressed in crude leathers jumps up, brushing a mud facial off to reveal a singular giant eye that widens in panic at sight of the surprise airship. With a scream she flees behind a nearby large boulder and cowers. Arnie hails again. No response. It gets Bertram thinking - maybe it's a translation issue? With a touch on Arnie's shoulder to cast tongues, results come quickly. Slowly the giant emerges, coaxed out by the handyman.

​

She's a cyclops! Massive yet cautious to a fault, and also apparently not the sharpest knife in the drawer, it takes Arnie offering pancakes until she warms up enough to fully emerge. The animated sentient mud around her is a bit disconcerting, though she promises it isn't a threat. Come on down for a muddy spa treatment? Why not!

​

Soon after the Handy Hands are taking it in at ground level, Bill at work making a new round of giant-sized pancakes, and the curious mud is examined. It's not mud. It's tiny devil creatures! Bertram points out that both things are true: they're mephits. Small elemental imp-like beings composed of natural materials. The cyclops - who introduces herself as Rudag - appears to have learned a while back that these mud mephits are more than content to just spread their muddy existence. So mud baths and facials it is! Nakam is slow to relax his guard though the others lie right down, living mud-imps settling over their bodies.

​

Rudag rambles with Arnie, the rest odd guests to the conversation. She lives nearby with a few family members, though the greater cyclops colony is far to the south at Snapping Turtle Bay. With Bertram's spell still active Arnie finds himself able to hone in on the mephits' idle talk as they mold and massage. Not unlike a bunch of gossipy hairdressers, names come up.

​

"Dr. Crusher?!", the handyman exclaims at the mention of the name. "I know him! We have the same therapist!"

​

"What's a therapist?", mutters Nakam.

​

Half an hour later, the mephits slide off. What results! Years off the faces of all. Well, in appearance at least. Now what?

​

"Ooh! Follow me! It's hot bath time!", booms Rudag.

​

Ahh. Relaxation at its finest! Reclining in the cyclopian-shaped divots within a small delta of a cool river where it enters the boiling lake, perfect temperatures are enjoyed as steam mephits dart around in the air. Between Manos delivering Bill's new giant-sized pancake order and Nakam gifting a sword to the cyclops as a toothpick, talk turns to places and people. Rudag's mention of the ruins of Hisari flaring with lightning-like energy sounds fascinating! The ruins of Ishau sound like a marine archaeologist's dream. When she mentions "a lizardfolk who smelled funny" passing by some weeks ago, ears perk up.

​

"Did they travel with a human man?", asks Bertram. Rudag nods.

​

Artus and Dragonbait. It has to be! It gets Peach thinking. She's scryed on Artus with strangely limited results, but what's Dragonbait been up to? Channeling her memory of him to her Crystal Ball, she scries. A fuzzy image appears. Distortion? Interference? It's quite odd. Extending her mind she confirms the blurry shape in the jungle image is indeed Dragonbait, 'feeling' his odors. He's scared. No. Anxious. On edge. Alone, too. Distant muddled voices are heard... then something else. An eerie tuneless whistle, just like in Miryem's shared vision. White noise grows to deafening volume then - nothing.

​

"Boys...", Peach starts. "I don't think we should take time exploring those ruins. Something's wrong. I can't quite make full sense of it, but Dragonbait is in trouble. We need to go."

​

It's an easy agreement. As sad as Arnie is to have his spa day end prematurely, he'll be back. Lake Luo is only an airship ride away! With one final delivery of massive pancakes goodbyes are given to the friendly cyclops lady, and the Handy Hands take to the skies once again.

​

*         *         *

​

Two days later. No one really talks about the time Krenko and Peach were blown off the deck at 1,000 feet by an errant blast of erupted ash when sailing between volcanic ranges, but maybe it's for the better. Peach could handle herself with a little teleportation magic. Nakam saved the day otherwise, Feygllyyb diving at sonic speeds to pluck the falling Krenko out of the air. Sure, the bird-lion eyes the lizard-man like a potential predatory snack now. But it's fine. We think.

​

The bigger issue at hand is the damned flying demon among the clouds! Arnie's seen it! It's out there! Helping herself to Arnie's Eyes of the Eagle, Peach comes to a second opinion.

 

"It's um... a scarecrow?", she says, puzzled. "Like from a garden, but flying. Nakam?" 

​

"On it!"

​

The paladin's flying recon finds exactly what was seen afar. A scarecrow, just kind of off cruising through the skies on its own! The stitched demon face is more goofy than scary up close. There's only a little resistance to Nakam's grip as he grabs a straw-stuffed hand to guide it back to Arnie's Little Helper. The others analyze quizzically.

​

Well. It's a scarecrow, alright. A floating one, too! Quick detect magics from Nakam and Bertram determine it is indeed magical - at least the central wood shaft is enchanted. Huh. Tying it off to the main mast like a floppy inflatable tube man, it's some fun entertainment to pass the time.

 

Hanging out in the crow's nest some time later, watching its movements, it hits Bertram. That's not a scarecrow. Well, it is. But someone made a scarecrow out of a flying broom! Reeling in the rope he slowly tests its ability to hold weight. The historian smiles. Letting loose the rope, he's off! He soars loops around the airship on the scarecrow, comically riding it backwards and upside down. Feels like it could support two...

​

"Arnie! Want to go for a ride?"

​

"Do I?!", exclaims the handyman, jumping on behind Bertram. And there they go! Round and round the archaeologist and handyman go, stopping to trade off passengers and entertain all. Bertram even learns the scarecrow's name and command word - 'Russell' - which can summon it from great distance. Neat!

​

It gets Peach thinking: It's a beautiful day far above the jungle. Why not pass the time with a bit of herbal recreation? Looking inside of Reistal's bag of goodies its... dried fruit? Hard to say. They look natural, but the multicolored tetrahedral edibles are a mystery in origin. There's no telling what effects they could have. Only one way to find out!

​

"Arnie! Here, try this one.", Peach says, handing him a red fruit. "I'll try the blue. Nakam? Bertram? Wanna get in on this?"

​

The paladin abstains - someone has to be the Designated Flyer here. The warlock, though. Arnie and Peach have long been having fun with mysterious substances without him. What's Bertram been missing? Why not give it a try! 

​

The red fruit takes a minute to kick in, but soon the handyman feels his lungs expand mightily. This breath! What could he do? Arnie exhales air at such a high speed that the sails of the very airship itself surge forward a little bit.

​

"Arnie, that's incredible." says Bertram. "You could power the ship like that!"

​

"I agree.", says the ship's mast. "Ask your friend to keep blowing!"

​

The historian stares. Oh boy. Looks like the green fruit has set in. Bertram is soon starting up conversations with random inanimate objects on the deck as Peach chews the blue fruit. The poisonous kick that rumbles her stomach is soon forgotten when her eyes well up... with blood. Bloody elf tears! And they're not stopping!

​

"Mommy? What are you eating?" Cobbler thumps over. "Candy?! Can I have some?"

​

Oh no. Her son can't see her like this! Casting invisibility she quickly hides from her dinosaur boy, guiding his big body below decks for a rare tour of the galley. Baggie passed off to Arnie, the handyman looks within. Two colors left to sample.

 

"Hey Krenko! Eat this!, he shouts back to the helm. The reptile-man opens his craw exuberantly, the little orange fruit tossed by Arnie arcing over the ship's wheel and landing right in his crocodile-like mouth. Almost immediately Krenko starts pulsing with little zaps of electricity, this frilled clothing standing up on end. Shocking!

​

"Phew!", says Peach's voice, accompanied by the pitter patter of dripping blood as she invisibly returns. "That was close. What's left?" She looks around. There's Krenko burping miniature lightning bolts. Bertram is in deep conversation with a piece of rope. Arnie, jealous of Bertram's fun, swallowed down another green fruit and is having an entirely different conversation with the same piece of rope. And there's Nakam, looking like the only sane person around. "Yellow it is!"

​

Soon the scents hit. Vibrant flowers from the forest floor thousands of feet away. The leathery smell of a passing pterodactyl. The myriad of spices down in the galley. She can smell everything. Unfortunately that includes the unbathed Krenko!

​

So there it is. Another day in the air for the Handy Hands. That region of the Valley of Dread called the Bakumora is up ahead somewhere, but for now it's just another relatively pleasant day of controlled substances.

​

As it has probably been for centuries, Kir Sabal stands as it is remembered: ancient cliff-side structures far above the jungle below, aarakocra monks soaring in the distance. It's a welcome slice of unchanging life.​

​

After landing on the main mesa and waiting for morning prayers to finish, the gang is greeted warmly by the monastery's exalted leader Asharra. The old aarakocra is happy to reconnect though cautious with details regarding the children of the deposed monarchy her order has been trying to reestablish. It seems Chult as a whole has been less than interested in instating royalty. Conversational weight is lifted when a curious flying machine appears and a boy runs in with arms open. 

​

"BERTRAM!", shouts the boy prince, running to give a big hug to the warlock historian as Cobbler chases the invention.

​

"Na, my boy! You're creations have certainly been improving!", Bertram says.

​

"Why yes! All the best books. Principals of gravitational pull, wind current dynamics, heat dynamics..."

​

The 6-year old's talk, as latent genius as it is, crumbles when Na makes the ultimate kid request: COME SEE MY BEDROOM! Bertram, first-time visitor Krenko, Arnie, and Peach feel obligated to take the tour. For Nakam and his griffon though, the breakfast bar that Asharra offered is priority! Many a familiar bird-person delight await. Princess Mwaxanaré stops by to offer pleasant greetings, seemingly more mature than over a half year ago. It's nice and quiet until the Cobbler plods around the corner, wearing an obnoxious amount of beads and pukka shells around their neck.

​

"Nakam! Look what I learned!", says the young t-rex, clasping his tiny hands and bowing. "Namaste."

​

The blue paladin is baffled. "Um. Yeah... Wow. Your mom will be happy. I think?" His griffon helps itself to the breakfast bar as Reistal the druid - former madman turned new age monastery hippy - join. Ah. That explains it.

​

Na's bedroom is quite impressive! The boy prince rambles to anyone listening as he shows off his work area and inventions, Krenko tidying up and adding helpful artificer notes as they make the rounds. Of particular note are a broad pair of DaVinci-esque glider wings hanging from the wall. There were doubts, but the boy is actually making a functional flying machine! No wonder Asharra was discouraging Na earlier - one can only really have their invention fail once when living at these altitudes. Suggestions made, the bulk of the Handy Hands search out Nakam and Cobbler.

​

"Namaste, Mom!"

​

"Oh my precious heart that's adorable!", says Peach, seeing her son do the little bow again. After reconnecting with Reistal and the offer of a dubious 'doggie bag to go' (leading Arnie to summon his magical talking dog and make the druid really wonder if he's tripping or not), it's time to start moving on. A tour of Arnie's Flying Helper is given to Na, promises are made to visit soon, and with Cobbler gliding on board the airship lifts anchor (DM: Well, it's Manos. A most handy anchor.) and takes for the skies. To Lake Luo!

​

"Mom? Reistal said you like to 'get high'.", asks Cobbler, unwittingly handing over a drug delivery from the hippy druid. "Is that flying? I have wings! I wanna get high too!"

​

Peach stops for a moment. Oh no. In hindsight this moment had to be coming at some point. "Cobbler... Getting high isn't a good thing. Mommy doesn't want to get high." Or does she? Peach and Arnie's adventures in substances have a long history. Guilt sets in immediately. She'll have to think this one out.

​

*         *         *

​

It's kept her up. Even though she has no need for proper sleep, Peach wanders the deck at night thinking of Cobbler. Was it only a matter of time until her recreations bled into her family life? Or is she just failing at parenting? A bad mom? She climbs the main mast to talk with Jim the drow in the crow's nest, their newest ship surgeon hire.

​

"Hi Jim. Quiet night, huh?", she says.

​

"Mmm.", he responds. "Reminds me of how far I am from home. Those silent caves, just the glow of fungus around you. It's why I bring them with me - my collection of spores and molds, that is. Have you tried something similar? To ease the mind?"

​

Peach thinks about it. Not really. Maybe a bit of the Feywild would help ground her? Her mind drifts until her Robe of Eyes pulls her vision down to the deck below where Bertram solitarily walks to the bow in the midnight rain. She climbs down.

​

"Hi Bertram.", she asks. "What are you doing up?"

 

"Guten tag.", he replies, not turning around.

 

The northern tongue. Odd. Okay then. "It's late. Wet too. Everything alright?"

​

The historian stares off ahead. After a long delay, the response comes. "I see... lines..."

​

"Lines. Right..." Peach squints into the black night through which Arnie's Flying Helper quietly soars. Nope. No lines there. She steps back to secretly pull out her Crystal Ball of Mind Reading. Bertram's mind seems normal. Though it is odd: He normally keeps that Nipple of Mind Shielding on to keep her prying out. "Bertram, buddy? You feeling okay?"

​

Bertram turns to stare, eyes wide and unblinking. "Curvature 360 degrees. Altitude. Descend in altitude."

​

Something isn't right! Freaked out, Peach runs for the stairs to alert her sleeping friends. Maybe Arnie or Nakam can help sort Bertram's brain? Rounding the stairwell she nearly runs into a mostly naked Krenko. Also staring.

​

The crocodile-man lunges but the bard is too quick, leaping out of his grasp to tuck and roll through the galley, casting greater invisibility on herself to buy a moment. Bertram descends, he and Krenko clasping hands to scan the room in an eerie way. Something definitely isn't right! Silent as it is Peach's Horn of Silent Alarm to wake Arnie jostles enough to tip off the duo, and next thing she knows Bertram is flying through the air at her, thrown by Krenko.

​

*BWOOOOOOOM!* Damn! That was a good dream!, thinks Arnie. The handyman shoots out of bed, another blast nearly causing Nakam to slam his head into the upper bunk. Noise in the galley lead them both to groggily open their cabin doors to see... a wide-mouthed naked Krenko, and Bertram flopping on the floor?

​

"Help!", calls Peach's voice from nowhere. "They're possessed or something!"

​

Peach's new spell forcecage gets a test run to contain the threat as Nakam wastes no time, rushing ahead to touch Bertram through the bars and - nothing. If it's a sickness, Lay on Hands does nothing! The historian's arms distend and unnaturally bend to slam painfully into the changeling paladin, Krenko wildly gyrating his tail between his legs in the background.

​

"Krenko, that's just lewd!", says Arnie.

​

"What? What'd I do this time?" It's Krenko's voice, but behind them... where there's another Krenko?

 

This one is at least partially clothed however, still holding a rum bottle and clearly also still drunk. Behind him, a second Bertram sleeps soundly on the shared bunk. A rush of feet up from the cargo hold below turns heads once again to see a second Nakam and Peach, both looking sort of... off. They screech, charging in.

​

Doppelgangers! Creepy violent doppelgangers!

​

Luckily with their limbs that bend more than they should and the inhuman noises there's no mistaking the real Handy Hands with the imposters, but what is going on here?! Evil Peach lopes forward to join Bad Bertram in attacking Nakam, the real Peach doing her best to invisibly dodge out of the way. It doesn't go unnoticed though, Nega-Nakam slamming wildly into the air to hit the bard and break her spell. Though trapped the Krenko copy joins its alien allies in assaulting Nakam through the bars.

​

"Buzz off!", shouts Arnie, a giant insect swarm trapping his friends on this deck though at least overwhelming the violent clones with arthropods. Somewhere behind, the assumedly real Bertram lets out a content snore at the play on words.

​

Realizing this is more than a drunken dream Krenko leaps into action, sheltering the vulnerable Peach as she rolls away to safety. The bard-barian-ificer and Nakam chop at Bad Bertram, the doppelganger melting into... a slimy puddle? Arnie is able to get a solid cure wounds on the real Peach as Evil Peach flails, thankfully missing. The chaos is enough to finally stir the actual Bertram, who rolls over in bed to see... well, two of most everyone. And himself dying and melting.

​

"That one!", yells Peach. "Not me! THAT one!"

​

Bertram blinks. Which one?! "Say something only the real Peach would say!"

​

"Adopting a baby t-rex and gifting it sentience may have been a bad idea, and now I think I may be a bad mom!"

​

"Right! Coming!" The historian jumps up, his eldritch axe manifesting as his own new spell is blasted. Mental prison! The Peach clone's head explodes! Saved and seeing a chance to end what Arnie's bugs have already been feasting upon, the real Peach lets loose a destructive wave that melts the remaining doppelgangers.

​

More slime puddles. But what's this? Each of the four freakish copies also have thin slimy trails of mucus leading from where they died to even further below decks, even if not seen emerging from there. The gang steels themselves. Something is down there. They huddle close, weapons at the ready despite all but Peach being in sleepwear, descending together. What is seen thankfully isn't a horrific man-beast-alien. 

​

It's a jar. A jar weirdly pulsating a dull red. A jar full of Underdark spores and molds. The ship surgeon runs down just in time.

​

"Jim!", scolds Arnie. "You've got some explaining to do here!"

​

The drow is sheepish yet just as shocked. It wasn't intentional! Just a bunch of spores, molds, fungus, and uh, oozes from his homeland as keepsakes. How was he to know they'd magically spawn a new alien life that reads people's thoughts and duplicates their forms?

​

Well. That settles it. Jim's on mop duty for days after this whole mess. For the rest? It's time to go back to bed.

​

Time passes, and those times are good! Much of Port Nyanzaru celebrates the downfall of Aremag and their new local heroes, though some are concerned for the future with no dragon turtle 'protecting' the bay. The nouveau rich adventurers get right to work investing their wealth: a salvage operation for Aremag's lair (the huge skull is mounted prominently in the Docks Ward), improvements and expansions to the Handy House, a hefty donation to the city's orphanage in Eku's name, and getting the ship-based tourist experience back up and operational. They even purchase an old brothel to convert into a small local theater. Arnie's dreams are coming true!

​

Nevermind the drug-fueled shopping trip in Waterdeep, or the ill-fated teleport to the other side of the world in search of body art. They made it back safe and sound. Questionable tattoo choices for all? Sure. But good times were had! 

​

*         *         *

​

"CUT!", yells Arnie in frustration. "We're done for the day. Go home everyone... and READ the new script, okay?"

​

The theater was coming along great. The theater troupe, however? The motley mix of adventurers and former gladiators isn't the easiest to train. Especially with lead actor Krenko spending more time away learning to be an inventor these days! 

​

All in all, though, things are well. People too. Nakam hangs out at the theater's bar using his new sword to train a crab. Bertram sits nearby flipping through Mr. Withers' diary, looking more and more perplexed as he reads on (DM: We did a one-shot with the NPCs left at home last story arc! Two of Acererak's liches arrived for revenge, but no worries. Manos buried them in the backyard. Everything's fine...). Peach has been obsessed with the Crystal Ball of Mind Reading found in Aremag's lair, doomscrolling through scry upon scry. A knock on the door breaks the quiet.

​

"We're closed!", shouts Arnie, opening the door nonetheless and finding a delivery man.

​

It's here! The package Peach has been waiting for! In the crate lies a brand new glimmering Lantanese geetar of polished wood and metal, custom made for the eladrin bard, shaped like Feywild leaves and seemingly shifting colors in the light. 'Sugar Plum', so the tag reads. Excellent! Tuning up and jumping on stage Peach takes it for a spin, her bardic charms soon washing over the theater. What starts as a solo jam somehow ends with Bertram's Nipple of Mind Shielding obscenely between the bard's breasts before another bathroom scrying break. Another knock on the door.

​

"I said we're CLOSED!", Arnie shouts again. Peach gets the door instead. Maybe it's interns from the Young Thespians Club Arnie had set up at the orphanage? Their new crew for the Emerald Eye checking in? Another package delivery? The sight of an old dwarven man dressed in a monk-like robe isn't exactly what she was expecting. 

​

"So sorry to disturb!", the dwarf says, lowering his hood and quizzically looking at the 'COMING SOON!' banner over the old brothel sign above. A taller feminine figure stands nearby, dressed the same. "We went to the house on the hill but a, um... creepy talking doll child... said we should check here? We're looking for a 'Bertram Frode' and friends."

​

The second figure steps closer, lowering her hood as well. Peach squints. The woman's head is shaved and attire very different, but there's no mistaking her... it's Miryem Jund! The archaeologist who double-crossed them ages ago! 

 

"Bertram! Your girlfriend is here!", Peach calls over her shoulder.

​

"She is NOT my girlfriend.", he replies.

 

It takes some convincing, but eventually the gang lets the visitors in. The dwarf introduces himself as Emberon Coalscuttle and, in fairly awkward fashion, their reason for arrival. Emberon is nothing less than a cult leader! A benign cult, he swears. Heck, he didn't even found or name it. But for years now he's been the leader of the Cult of the Crocodile in the ruins of old Mezro, where he and other disciples interpret the prophetic dreams of a giant sleeping reptile.

 

"Now Miryem here, in interpreting a disturbing recurring dream, says she thinks you all are connected to it. Or, at least, friends of yours are.", Emberon says. "Tell them, my dear."

​

"Bertram... I'm so sorry. I have a lot to apologize for. I'm not even sure where to start, but here." Miryem hands the historian a small sack containing the items she stole long ago. "After Eshowe I traveled to Mezro, and met Emberon. Eventually he convinced me to think of more than myself, and, long story short, I've been with his order since."

​

Bertram rolls his eyes. "It's going to take far more than a story and a few items to trust you again. This better be important."

​

"Indeed." Miryem nods slowly. "The crocodile's dream... the ranger and his odorous friend. They're in it. And in trouble."

​

Artus Cimber and Dragonbait? It gets the Handy Hands' interest. They haven't seen the adventuring duo in well over half a year. Miryem explains the vision. "A frozen man searches. A scented warrior follows. Far south they travel, into fog, into sadness..." The former archaeologist poetically continues, but as with any dream explained it's hard to follow.

​

"Look. I have an idea.", says Emberon, downing a whiskey shot next to Nakam's crab. "We don't normally do this with outsiders, but we can share the dream. Call it a little séance if you will."

​

"A séance?", says Arnie. "I'll get the candles!"

​

Nakam sitting out just to make sure Miryem and Emberon aren't up to any funny business, the rest collect on the small theater's stage and sit in a circle. Hands are held. A meditative quiet falls over the room. There's nothing at first, but soon shapes move behind closed eyelids. The visions of the great crocodile wash over the Handy Hands.

​

Vague shapes. City ruins. Mezro. A figure resembling Artus finds something. The ranger smiles. Scents are 'seen' as Dragonbait joins, the two traveling into the wilds. Shapes disperse then reform. Fog. Muted colors. Blood? Weeping in the distance, a growing white noise, then silence. Silence until... whistling? A disconcerting tuneless reedy hum. The noise drifts in the jungle as the feeling of hunger intensifies. Color drains further. The whistle grows. Scenery tears, recombines, moves both forward and backward in time and - Eyes open.

​

"Yeah...", says Emberon, breaking the quiet. "Visions. Always weird. Especially this one, though. And as Miryem said, the great croc has been having this same vision for weeks. Last time that happened, the Death Curse started soon after."

​

What to do with that info? A cult knocks on the door, a former villain apologizes, then a creepy second-hand vision of some sleeping psychic reptile is shared, portraying allies and nebulous threats?

​

"You saw the horizon in the vision? The mountain range?", asks Miryem. "We've identified the peaks. It's the Sanrach Mountains, bordering Chult to the far southeast. Have you heard of the Bakumora? It is a part of the Valley of Dread."

​

It rings a bell. But why would Artus and Dragonbait be there? After an awkward intro and awkward vision party, awkward goodbyes are said. They'll have to think on this matter. Shortly after the cult leader and former archaeologist depart, Krenko walks in with recent fellow tech companions (DM: First barbarian, then bard, now artificer!) and gets filled in by the others.

​

Krenko gasps. "Bertram! Your girlfriend was here?!"

 

"She is NOT my girlfriend!"

​

"I think we owe it to them, Artus and Dragonbait I mean.", says Peach. "They've helped us out so much when we were in need. As much as we want to save Eku from the Hells, helping them out first seems right."

​

The others nod. It's unanimous. Far southeast Chult would be a big problem... but not when you have an airship! With the sewer kobold renovations of Arnie's Little Helper III complete - now dubbed Arnie's Flying Helper - what better maiden flight than a grand tour of Chult on a brand new adventure? To the skies!

​

*         *         *

​

Two days later, a crowd of locals cheer as the retrofitted sea ship inflates its balloons and rises out of the city harbor. Now THIS is how to travel! Concern over the reliability and durability of flame-powered kobold tech on a wooden vessel far above the ground are valid, but oh, this smoothness and speed! For their whole time in Chult jungle travel was a slow and dangerous affair, but now they can cover distance in hours what they would have measured in days!

​

Cobbler and Manos are brought along for the ride, happy to rejoin Peach and Arnie. Timmi and Crazy Larry were put in charge of the Handy House. Probably a better idea based on Mr. Withers' journal. Something about liches? A big goliath named Sheila was brought on board to replace Wadizi as quartermaster. Very friendly lady. Kind of a weird hoarder and ignorant of personal space, though. The new ship surgeon hails from the Underdark, a drow named Jim (short for Jimjiminyjimjimjiminyjimjim'jeri, he says, with no trace of humor). Odd fellow. Very serious. He's not NOT whimsical in his foreboding utterances, thinks Nakam.

​

Bertram ponders the destination. The Valley of Dread. It doesn't sound too bad in the books. Lizardfolk tribes and kingdoms have historically dominated there, and one could forgive a human for thinking of their ways 'dreadful'. No currency, no art, a focus on pure practicality, eating each other based on meritocratic values... maybe he'll leave that last bit out to Arnie. The region known as the Bakumora sounds particularly interesting, where lizardfolk culture once came into contact with the mysterious hermit nation of Samarach to the southeast.

​

Travel is an ease to Mezro, where the gang brought along Emberon and Miryem for a ride home along the way down eastern Chult. Passengers dropped off and no desire to revisit Mezro at this moment, Arnie's Flying Helper continues on. The 'laughing gorge' of Azaaz Muhahaha is viewed from above, massive grazing dinosaurs mere specks below. It isn't until later in the day that Nakam, out flying on his griffon, spots something abnormal. 

​

Large pteradactyl-like shapes hiding in the clouds. Doing their best to conceal their numbers, yet failing horribly. Pterafolk.

​

"Hold on, Nakam.", says Peach after the paladin flies back from recon. "I have an idea..."

​

The bard waits, tracking their stalkers' patterns. With a flick she launches an ember at a nearby cloud, and sure enough, the pack of would-be sky bandits choose it as their next cover. The 'terror folk' skirt over and - KABOOM! The cloud explodes with heat, charred bodies dropping from below as the few remaining make a panicked retreat. Peach dusts off her hands.  Delayed blast fireball: 1, dumb pterafolk: 0!

​

It's smooth flying through the night and, come morning, familiar mesas are seen in the early light. Gardened tops, vertical cliff face architecture - the ancient monasteries of Kir Sabal. Why not stop by and say hi to old friends?

​

Previous entries have been moved to improve load times and your reading experience. Click below to find them!
 

​

• Chapter 1: "A Shipwrecked Misadventure." - Entries 1 through 11.
  ​After a disastrous journey at sea, four travelers become necessary allies and eventually friends as they get their bearings in a beautiful but hostile land.​
   

• Chapter 2: "The Shining Jewel of Chult." - Entries 12 through 20.
  Chult’s great city of Port Nyanzaru hosts a wealth of possibilities, where new friends are gained as the fledgling adventuring party establishes themselves.
   

• Chapter 3: "Famous and Infamous." - Entries 21 through 27.
  Local fame leads to larger concerns, and the crew find themselves as notable figures involved in the city’s events and intrigues.
   

• Chapter 4: "The River Expedition." - Entries 28 through 38.
  The Handy Hands bravely set forth into the uncharted jungles of Chult on a mission... and this time, they have experience and planning on their sides.
   

• Chapter 5: "Ruins and Robots." - Entries 39 through 55.
  Rumors of forgotten temple ruins are just too good to pass up, and the goal of retrieving a dead wizard’s construct leads to odd encounters with the locals.
   

• Chapter 6: "Death and the City." - Entries 56 through 67.
  A return to Port Nyanzaru is both welcome and ominous, as evil plots and villains abound, and news of an escalating 'Death Curse' ravaging the land emerges.
   

• Chapter 7: "Salty Shenanigans." - Entries 68 through 77.
  As city-sponsored privateers and entrepreneurs of dubious skill, the Handy Hands take on nautical threats both piratical and supernatural.
   

• Chapter 8: "On the Trail of the Dead" - Entries 78 through 94.
  From somewhere in Chult, the Death Curse radiates. The Handy Hands follow clues and their instincts, leading them deep into the unknown…
   

• Chapter 9: "The Forbidden City." - Entries 95 through 101.
  Omu. A wretched hive of snakes and villainy. The Handy Hands close in on the origin of the Death Curse, but the city's inhabitants won't make it easy.
   

• Chapter 10: "Tomb of Annihilation." - Entries 102 through 128.
  Somewhere deep below Omu, a nefarious archlich and his Soulmonger infects our realm with the Death Curse. The race to save the world is on!
   

• Chapter 11: "The True Lords of the Sea." - Entries 129 through 137.
  Time to take it easy… or is it? Threats loom in the waters once again, and after a lengthy stretch of domestic life the Handy Hands return to shiver more timbers!

​