The party exited the forest weapons drawn. Zoidberg had been the first to notice, but now they could all smell it. They walked out into the open, their eyes fell on the remains of small Kobold village. Now it was the site of a massacre. Dead bodies were strewn across the ground, each one horribly mutilated.
“Spread out,” ordered Grimlock. “There may still be supplies here. This obviously wasn’t the work of raiders or bandits.”
The party fanned out in search of better clothing and, perhaps, maybe even real food.
Zoidberg skulked over to the nearest hut while the others investigated the main compound. He could smell something wrong with the bodies, but he was blinded by the overwhelming aroma of the fresh dead inside. He opened the door. Before him was heaven. Dozens of Kobolds were piled high in the room. A feast fit for a king.
Oaglamah found a large opening in the side of the stone building. The wall had been busted in here. Inside he found many bodies, most of which were piled against the nearest wall. He poked at them with his axe while looking around.
“At least there are more weapons here. Probably food somewhere too.”
Grimlock and Jorn walked behind him.
“Hunter’s weapons,” replied Jorn. “Not ideal, but they’ll do. Kobolds usually keep a storage of food during the wint…”
He was cut off by a loud, guttural scream. He turned to find Oaglamah in mid air, held aloft by the pale tentacle of an Otyugh.
Shanky poked the body with a stick. It wasn’t a Kobold, that was for sure. Still alive? How strange.
“Where… Wha…” groaned the man, when he finally awoke. He was human height, though not human. His skin was pale blue, marked with distinctive cracks that look like lightning running across his body. He had only a loin cloth and shackles for clothing. He got up, pushing the dead Kobolds off himself.
Shanky extended a hand in greeting. The Genasi simply stared at him. He had never seen a Kenku before and was still confused about what was going on. The awkward introduction was interrupted by strange whooping noise. In the closest hut, the two could see Zoidberg being attacked by another Otyugh, clearly upset that someone else was after his corpse larder.
Instinctively, Sally tightened his shackles, then pulled. With one great burst of strenght he tore them apart and leaped into the air, riding the wind to the strange squid man’s defense. Shanky looked on, his hand still extended in greeting. “How rude,” he thought to himself.
Oaglamah used his axe to fend off the carrion feeder’s massive maw. Grimlock had relieved the creature of several of its tendrils, making enough of a distraction for Jorn to move into position. When Grimlock gave the signal, Jorn leaped into the fray. Running up the beasts pile of corpses he went strait for the creatures head. He brought his rusty mace down onto the creatures skull repeatedly. The stunned creature writhed in pain as each blow rained down upon it. Taking advantage of the situation, Oaglamah and Grimlock quickly added their weapons to the onslaught. Soon the creature was a still, lifeless corpse.
The Genasi summoned the wind around him, and just as Zoidberg struck the foul creature with a magical arrow, he unleashed its fury. The Otyugh was blown out of the hut into the cold winter air. The creature righted itself quickly, bearing its enormous fangs and many, clawed tentacles to bear. Silently, Shanky melted out of the beasts own shadow. He muttered a curse under his breath, linking the creature to the Shadowfell. The with deadly silence, he struck with poisoned blade.
Oaglamah, Jorn, and Grimlock quickly found their companions standing over the corpse of another monster. With them was a newcomer who was talking with Zoidberg. Grimlock inquired as to the identity of the strange looking stranger.
“His name is Sally,” replied Zoidberg. “Can we keep him?”