As the chieftain runs off, Grailmont slowly recovers from his wounds. He lays upon the stone floor staring at the roots above, trying to remember where he was and what has happened.
Silas releases a burst of healing energies to aid his wounded companions. This gives Orin a small boost, and he breathes another gout of flame over himself and the tick attached to his leg, draining blood and mangling tissues as it's head burrows it's way into his thigh.
Initiative Groups
Group 1: Ayerth, Orin, Ser Brandon
Group 2: Tick
Group 3: Irakli, Chieftain
Group 4: Grailmont, Silas
is up, 36 hour clock ticking
Beaten and bloodied, Grailmont looked around a bit It seems I am not to walk with Cayden yet.. He said, glad to see the rest of his party standing.
Ayerth still stands somewhat stunned at the collapse of diplomacy and the madness which followed. His elven sensibilities cannot fathom the reasoning or loss of reason that overtook Orin, nor understand the vehemence which overtook the chieftain at the perceived betrayal. He fails to react as the tick begins draining life from Orin, considering instead whether to chase after the chieftain.
Ser Brandon tries in vain to attract the tick's attentions, smacking sword and shield against the creature's hard carapace but to no avail. Afraid to ignore the dwarf with an attack, the knight instead stands by looking for an opportune time to strike, and perhaps avoid the flames the dwarf is spewing.
successful for
The tick's blood drain causes . Ugly red bruising begins to spread around the site of the tick's burrowed mandibles as the dwarf feels his life slipping away.
Initiative Groups
Group 1: Ayerth, Orin, Ser Brandon
Group 2: Tick
Group 3: Irakli, Chieftain
Group 4: Grailmont, Silas
Group 3 is up, 36 hour clock ticking
Succumbing to bites and blood loss, Orin slowly collapses, his ax clattering from his unconscious hand.
"Victory is nearly in sight! Fight on! Fight one my brave companions!" he calls out fiercely.
Ayerth watched the fight go out of Orin. He believed the party's best chance was for the dwarf to go down. He could not bring himself to attack an ally, but he also was not going to corrupt his word to another fey, even a mite.
Good, at least he can do no further harm than he already has.
"Now that the dwarf is through with his stunt, perhaps we can salvage our situation. I am going to try and stun the tick."
The tick appears to be wavering a bit, but is focused on it's prey, digging in deeper on the dwarf, reluctant to let the creature which has hurt it so much escape it's grasp.
Irakli seems confused as to what the party wants to do, save Orin or save the truce. He stands back watching the others, awaiting a consensus.
Initiative Groups
Group 1: Orin, Ser Brandon
Group 2: Tick
Group 3: Ayerth, Irakli
Group 4: Grailmont, Silas
is up, 36 hour clock ticking
"Just knock the damn tick out, without killing it if possible and lets get the hells out of here! Nothing like snatching complete victory from the jaws of defeat. A complete waste! What an utter and complete disaster. We had peace secured and the antidote we needed. Now we have undoubtedly lost the Chief's son and our spells and blood have been exhausted for naught! and all because of this dwarf! I pray that his intentions were not treasonous. If they are not then he is an utter and complete buffoon! Idiot!"
Silas flings another fire bolt, at the tick.
Grailmont stood up off his hind end, and dusted himself off, feeling weary, but joyous as he sees the dead centipede.
Orin has fallen to the ground but the tick has failed to release it's grip. It seems content to continue absorbing the dwarf's vital fluids.
Initiative Groups
Group 1: Orin, Ser Brandon
Group 2: Tick
Group 3: Ayerth, Grailmont, Irakli, Silas
is up, 36 hour clock ticking
Ser Brandon attempts to attack the mite but struggles to find purchase in the confined spaces.
vs AC for
Ser Brandon's attack misses, bouncing off the tick's hard chitinous shell. It does however seem to cause a strange reaction in the creature.
The tick begins to twitch and jerk spasmodically, it's legs snapping and clacking in gestures not designed for it's limbs. It jerks it's mandibles and head from Orin's body, , taking blood and tissue with it in the process, . The area around Orin's wound turns a pale and ghostly white.
The creature staggers back about 5' and continues to convulse and snap at the group, it's forelimbs thrusting, jabbing, and slashing the air wildly.
Initiative Groups
Group 1: Ayerth, Grailmont, Irakli, Orin, Ser Brandon, Silas
Group 2: Tick
is up, 36 hour clock ticking
Orin appears almost dead, so Silas will burn another spell to heal him.
Ser Brandon once again attempts to strikes the creature but it continues to evade his blade. "Hold still and die!" he calls out in frustration.
vs AC for
Ayerth uses his magic to throw his Elven blade towards the tick again, but he is distracted when he sees what Silas is doing.
"Ah confound it. If he gets back up and charges down the tunnels he will be the death of us. It might have been better to leave him unconscious so we can drag him out of here alive."
Looks for an open shot and knocks an arrow and lets it fly at the tick
The tick continues it's strange convulsing, the reddish brown shell seeming to lose it's darker tones, paling as the tick thrashes about. The violent jerking spasms begin to form cracks in it's hard surfaces, the tick's jaws snapping so fiercely it's mandibles shatter against one another, spraying about a pink frothy foam. As it's dance progresses, one forelimb snaps, hurling a shard at one of the group as the tick's multifaceted eyes glaze over slightly, staring past it's foes.
, meaning Irakli. for
The broken limb flies true, striking Irakli a gash across the shoulder, a small piece embedding itself in the elf's armor and skin, even as the tick continues it's erratic behavior.
Initiative Groups
Group 1: Ayerth, Grailmont, Irakli, Orin, Ser Brandon, Silas
Group 2: Tick
is up, 36 hour clock ticking
Ayerth begins to drag the Baron out of the room.
Well, that's odd. At this point, Silas will move to where Ayerth was, and shoot at the tick with his bow.
Silas's bowshot strikes the tick solidly, at an angle which normally would have resulted in but a small nick to the creature's shell. This shot instead punches easily through the carapace and into the heart of the tick. The insect swells rapidly from the blow, ballooning up to twice it's normal size and exploding outwards with tremendous force. A shower of thick, colorless goo splashes over Ser Brandon, Grailmont, Irakli, and Orin. Silas himself manages to duck back behind Ser Brandon, avoiding much of the rain of tick guts.
Nothing much remains of the tick save a few colorless, shapeless bits amidst the gunk and goo. No hard pieces, no intact shell, no fragment of limb or antennae. Only rapidly putrefying colorless, odorless slime dissolving away and fading into nothingness.
Orin writhes in pain from the points where the goo landed upon his bare skin, the color fading and pale white blotches marking his flesh. . A shock of his white hair turns a strange clear color, even the white of it bleached away. One eye fades a bit, graying towards a paler color, but causes no lasting vision problems.
Combat rounds are over at this time.
Ser Brandon looks around at his companions assessing the situation. Everyone seems to have survived. Though this battle has not gone as well as we had intended.
"It's finished. It cost us, but it is done. Ser Brandon checks on the Baron, lifting his unconscious form. "He needs healing. We must restore the Lord Baron at once."
As soon as the tick is down, Silas uses another Channel, healing everyone in the party.
Well, technically he is not paralyzed so much as disabled, immobile, and incapable of movement. His autonomous systems work but he has no motor control or muscle coordination. He has normal mental function, his thought processes are fine. He spent the last of the battle feigning death to avoid being an easy target for the enemy, though as the poisons ravaged him the condition became less and less feigned. Anything that might give him even one point of Dexterity should allow him enough control to speak, though it will be mumbled and difficult to project with any volume or clarity.
"Let's just get out. This mission was almost a success. Now we will be lucky to get out of here without it getting any worse than it already is. Even if the Chief' son is still alive it would be suicide to try and press on at this point."
The tunnels have become very quiet. Beyond the noise of the group moving about, the rest of the tunnels are eerily silent. The tick has stopped it's decay, all that remains is a dry pile of fine, off white dust.
"Ayerth, I fear it may be too late. We have already butchered a great number of these mites—if only a few remain, the safest course may be to end their threat entirely."
While he's got a bit of time to stop and think, Silas grabs the snapped statue. He also dabs up what he can of the "cure puddle" in a rag, and squeezes it out into one of his spare potion flasks.
"On second thought... yes, perhaps we should run. I should be able to repair this statue with Brigh's magic, and with a few hours' work I can remove any poison and filth from what is left of the mites' 'cure.'"
Ayerth looks stone faced at the maimed dwarf. Nods to Silas.
"Perhaps we could make an attempt at the next room, but are we willing to to risk the lives of our companions."
"I am sorely tempted to leave that dwarf to his fate. The anger within me is frightening."
"Just let one of the strong fellows pick him up. Grailmont? Ser Brandon? I think we may be able to leave the way we came in."
Grailmont looked down at his hands and feet, happy to still have his limbs, still a bit traumatized at the extreme beating he received, but then looked to his comrades. Whatever it is we need to do to help the sootscales we will accomplish. For the moment I believe we should take a rest and search this room and these bodies for shinies.. *cough* loot, yes search the room for loot.He said, giggling a bit at the pile of dead blue creatures, before progressing through the tunnel.
Orin comes to with a start. He looks around, worry and surprise warring on his face. I am not dead. Why am I not dead? And where are the enemy? He hisses a bit moving, but still rolls over a little to grab his fallen ax and then uses it to push himself up like a crutch.
Reading the looks on the faces of the others, the slightly manic happiness on Grailmont's face, the subtle signs of seething partial hidden on Ayerth's usually impassive elven features, and Silas' pragmatic countenance stand out. Thinking again to himself, That elf is sorely aggrieved. If I live long enough, I will need to amend myself to him.
"Thank you all. I am honestly surprised to wake."
Looking at the condition of the group, Orin inwardly sighs. Angradd, I wish we could find the chief's son, but I fear we are too wounded and spent for it.
"Ser Brandon. Grailmont. You both have tactical training and experience. Would I be remiss at thinking regrouping is in order? Or in the absence of their battering ram" gesturing towards the whiptail while leaning heavily on his ax with his right and wincing at the motion "do you think you two can use the smaller tunnels to press, or bottleneck, the remaining foes at this point? I defer to your fighting wisdom in this instance."
In Common:
"Grailmont! Orin! I am running out of healing spells, and the Baron is still paralyzed. We have what we came for. And the more those monsters poison us, the longer it will be before we are equipped to fight the Stag Lord... if we want to follow our mission, we should retreat to Sootscale territory."
And then, to Grailmont in particular:
"Besides... how much of value do you think these dirty tunnel raiders have? We're on a mission to bring the wealth of Restov to the Greenbelt, and once the Stag Lord is gone, I can promise you that the first wagon of kobold silver we send out will return with more proper currency than you've probably seen in your life."
Ayerth stands watching the others, his feelings roiling within him. At first it barely registers, but a small stone falling from the ceiling catches him just above the eye, shaking him from his thoughts.
Looking up and about, he notices the roots that have been so pervasive throughout the tunnels are drying out, rotting, desiccating right before his eyes. They too are turning a pallid white, in some cases almost clear, and crumbling away to dust. It is as if something is draining the last vestiges of life from the damned Sycamore tree above, just as it did the crazed tick moments ago.
Ayerth looks up and removes the debris from his white robes.
"The decision is made for us."
"Escape while we can. The mites curse has stolen the life from the great tree above us. The whole complex shall soon collapse."
"Your sabotage could not be more complete Orin and may still cost us our lives. To think we had nearly completed our goals and brought peace to our lands and allies into the fold."
"Now we can return the the Sootscales and report our utter failure and present them with their broken idol along with the news their Chief was killed right after we had secured his release. Perhaps our Baron can drool at them while we attempt to stabilize our matters of state."
"Such idiocy! An utter disaster Orin. You may have invited yet unknown grief and pain upon our citizens. Next time open your ears and eyes."
Ayerth turns and heads towards the exit.
"Grailmont, pick up the Baron if you will. You are the only one strong enough to carry him on your own. Let's hope we can make it to the surface."
Ser Brandon sheathes his weapon and shield and lifts the Baron. "Let us hurry. We must leave this cursed place before it is too late. We can bicker late. Aid me Grailmont, let us away in haste." he says as he makes towards the exit with Echo.
Orin eyes meet Ayerth's for a moment and flash with defiance. Orin catches himself, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and then responds, "You may well be right, Ayerth. However I can discuss my reasons, or excuses, with you, and you can discuss my ignorance with me, someplace other than these verminous" glancing around once more at the roughly excavated tunnels with a sour look on his face "halls."
"Fáinní?" Orin barks questioningly, and there is an answering squeak from his pack and a moment of wriggling at the top. "Goodman. Continue to keep your head down." he says as he begins to limp quickly toward the entrance with the rest.
How do you intend to get Echo up the shafts back to the surface?
Silas grabbed the statuette and roughly two poo cures from the chief's bag.
A small stone fell on Ayerth; there is a light dust falling as the roots turn to a fine white powder.
Where the tick's goo splattered previously, clothing and leathers have become stained white, all color leeched away. Orin's skin blotches almost give off a slight cold gray light in the shadows of the tunnels. No one else suffered skin changes, only Orin. Everyone by now has noticed the change his hair suffered, at least everyone but Orin.
The halls are completely quiet, save the sound of your group talking, moving, breathing.
The rope was at the main entrance. The tunnel into these adjoining rooms also had a climb down roughly 10 to 12 feet, which was aided by the roots crowding the narrow chute. Those roots are now gone and no rope was tied off for this drop.