Among the twisting trees and tall grass of the Orcish Shattur Isles there is adventure to be had. The Orcs here are notoriously more human looking than their heaving cousins in the mainland, although it has been debated they are just as ugly. Many creatures live among the diverse wilderness the Isles present to the world, some more deadly than others.



Three tribes once occupied the islands; The Warrior tribe of Glush, The Mystic tribe of Xaakt and The Hunter tribe of Boartuff. The smallest of the three - Boartuff - has recently fallen completely off the map, none of its members have been seen for many months. None have risked the deep canyons that lead into their lair in fear of finding nothing of value and losing themselves in the infamously intricate cave system.

None aside from Captain Drugg, whose ancient ancestors lived among such caves in the isles. An individual who has stopped at nothing to acquire a ship, a crew and a party of adventurers.

Responding to his advertisement of promised riches and wonder in many different taverns, you have all found your way onto his ship The Grey Wolf.



The Captains crew suffered attrition during the week long voyage from mainland, and they need food and water. Drugg seems to think he knows a spot along the river that might prove promising, and so you and your companions sail down the Tongue in hope of food and water for yourselves.

As the ship slowly flows through the tongue, staying to the deep waters filled with red Skala Fish, the river begins to narrow some. Drugg yells across the deck "Sails down!" and the crew hasten to his order. In a few moments the ship has come to a halt, the wind no longer whips past your ears, instead the orchestra of the forest plays its melody.

Speaking quietly to one of his men, the Captain looks over to you and smiles. Looking back at his man, he smacks him on the back as he rushes into the lower decks. Seconds later the same man returns with some sort of crossbow device, as he climbs the stairs up to the ships wheel you realize the device for what it is - a harpoon launcher.

"Ready yourselves!" He shouts to you and your companions as he heaves the Harpoon over his shoulder. Aiming, he fires the device into an impossibly large tree and exclaims a hearty laugh as it rips through the other side, its blade snap back on two joints, stopping the harpoon from budging. Throwing a thick linen rag over the line of rope that runs from the harpoon to its launcher - which is now safely secured around the mast - he beckons you forward.

Taking the linen rag in both hands you jump off The Grey Wolf and glide down to the tree on the river bank, dropping a few feet down as you reach the end. After you are all down on the ground, Drugg explains that the cave is upstream from here but must be explored on foot.

"Follow the river." he advice. Behind the large tree is endless forest with thick bushes, twisting trees and tall grass - but as well as this there is something that resembles a trail. Up stream and slightly in land is a tall rock outcrop, perhaps an advantageous height for spotting your objective.

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Questions? Ask in OOC. What will you do? ;) @Invisible Man@Terminal@Aristo

Thundershoe watched as the sailors began to do their work, most of them towered over the Halfling, but Alton knew that he was stronger than all of them. He was the adventurer after all. Thundershoe idly looked around, the jungle was something that a Halfling wasn't accustomed with, so he just needed to be wary. However, it did seem that Thundershoe was interested in the towering trees, he was a climber, and trees that size could be useful further into the journey. The Halfling soon eyed the captain talking to one of the sailors, he was an oddball for sure, but maybe you need that kind of person in a world like this. Where monsters run rampant and adventurers were a common site to behold.

Thundershoe soon spots the large harpoon launcher, it was big, and it could tear a sizable chunk out of some human, he didn't want to imagine what it'd do to a Halfling. He watched as the metal pierced into the tree, the rope was amazingly the right length to become a zip-line, maybe the captain was actually some genius under the weirdness. With the help of someone picking him up, he grabbed onto the rag, he awaited his journey into the first adventure!

He gracefully rolled onto the ground, weighing almost 35 pounds did make landing quite easy rather than the others that weighed over one hundred pounds, Alton wondered if there was any Halfling that weighed that much. He soon was brought out of his think bubble as his fellow adventurers followed suit, and landed near the Sorcerer. "Salutations! I hope that this adventure will be fun for all of us! I'll wait for someone else to lead, it would be weird if the Halfling would be leading the group, let along a Sorcerer."

"Is there some secret book of customs dictating that neither Halflings nor Sorcerers may lead?" A loud and firm voice flew through the air like a thrown dagger, smooth and pointed. The Human who called himself Lucretius stood behind the Halfling, his passage onto the shore both unseen and unheard.

He was a curious companion - a rogue of sorts, with wandering fingers and a tread softer than falling moonlight. Yet whenever he spoke, he drew the attention of all around. Equal parts subtle and bombastic, evasive and rightforth, the Human seemed something of a renaissance man - or at least he claimed to be. His voice itself had a strange quality of it, strangely absent of any imposition yet carrying a force which suggested it would not broker any sort of dissonance. His face was tall and lean, with high cheekbones and narrow eyes the color of the twilight sun. His straight, dark hair fell just past his shoulders, and he wore a neatly trimmed goatee. His garb consisted of hardened, boiled leather drawn under light cloth of a dull coloration. He carried more about his person than any other in the party, both in his pack and secreted about his person, but all of it seemed eerily affixed to his body and issued little to no complaint as he moved.

"You might serve better for our purposes than I, at least within the confines of this wilderness. The dialectics of the jungle lie beyond my particular talents. The sooner we find a town or village, the sooner I can see to the furtherance of our affairs."

Galaenya was already pacing a ways ahead of the group, peering out down the river into the trees before them. At her side, her robust mastiff companion, Archemedes, sniffed at the ground. Although the jungle was unfamiliar to her, she could still feel the resonance of the trees - the wisdom and power that they contained. She turned round to the rest of the party, interrupting their banter.
"Perhaps the druid would be most suited to guiding us through the wilds?" she said matter-of-factly, letting the slightest smirk creep from her lips.
Turning back to the leafy expanse, Galaenya embraced the jungle, closing her eyes and allowing her consciousness to slip into the wilderness. She would look deep into the soul of the jungle, divining a path for them to follow.

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Survival Check: 1d20+3+2 (Roll+Int modifier+Nature Sense)

Galaenya Survival check: Success.

Slightly less shrubbery mixed with flattened grass indicated a path that hugged the treeline, past the hulking harpooned tree and up towards the high ground they had noticed earlier. This was most likely a hunting trail, or maybe a war path. Either way, it didn't have to be followed, they could keep themselves orientated with the stream still in sight or earshot.

@Aristo

"This is the way the jungle leads me," Galaenya declared. She beckoned for her companions to follow, starting down the hidden trail and entering the trees. Archemedes bounded several paces in front, head bobbing side to side as the scents of the jungle enticed his attention. The rushing water of the stream could still be heard at this distance. The orc had reminded them to follow the water; Galaenya kept his words in mind.
After several minutes, the trail had risen in elevation, and Galaenya found herself at the edge of the high ground.

As the adventuring party made there way through the forests, it greeted them with deep growls of ancient trees and whispers from their children leaves, the soft and crisp padding of the dead beneath their feet rustled with each step. Upon reaching the small cliff, you notice a fire, its embers long put out, but still the faint aroma of smoke sits in the air.

Beside it lays a satchel of no notable worth, its linen embroidery crusted with a slash of dried blood.

Lucretius approaches the cliffside fire, and casts only a brief glance towards the satchel as he sniffs at the air. "This reeks of deceit." He commented nonchalantly. "This fire was not put out, but burned until it died. Only a small group at most could have stopped here, and they must have been forced to abandon the area." He surveyed the terrain around the burnt out fire and the satchel with furrowed brows for several moments, his lips parted faintly with baited breath.

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Search check. 18+4+3=25. Checking for signs or evidence of combat, habitation, or anything out of place.

Lucretius' open mouth allows the breeze to fill his lungs, the unmistakeable taste of bloodier iron fills his senses, it is quiet obvious to him that something happened here. Something violent, indeed.

Looking into the grass and dirty around this dishevelled and abandoned camp-site, you see trails of dark blood leading toward the edge of the steep cliff and upon said ledge teeters a wooden shield.

Upon further inspection there are also various exploration equipment amongst the bushes and tall grass that encirlce the dead fire.

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Blood trail found.
Signs of combat.
Rope, torches, a pick and other smaller items found.

With a frown, Lucretius follows the blood trail, and then crouches near the edge of the cliff to peer over it and see if there is any sign of anyone who might have fallen below, but sees nobody near the treacherous rocks below. He gets back up and returns the others, paying little mind to any of the items scattered about the fire, or to the precariously perched wooden shield.

"At least two individuals either fell or were tossed over the edge here. The grass and dirt is heavily trampled, but there are no other blood stains, nor any shards of metal or leather. The victims with either subdued in a single blow after a brief engagement, or were assaulted with magic. The presence of the pick and torches in addition to the other tools here indicate whoever camped here aimed to venture into either an interior structure or else a cavern..." He paused momentarily, glancing away from the cliff and towards the edge of the jungle adjacent in thought, one hand resting on the hilt of his saber while the other he raised before his head in a gesture of contemplation.

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Spot Check for looking over the cliff. 3+2+3=8, Lucretius fails to see anything of interest.

Knowledge (Local) Check. 13+4+3=20. Checking for information on the island's native inhabitants and specifically their customs/traditions and societal laws to determine if two neutral groups might attack each other during a chance encounter, as well as which specific groups or individuals are most expected to be responsible by reputation alone.