Thâdænn bows before Ulbrec as he receives his payment of gold. "Thank you for the trust you have placed in us, my Lord." He straightens up, and with a nod to Captain Swift, heads out with the others to Phaen's home.
Khasos opens the door. What does he see?
As Khasos pushes open the door, Griff peers over his shoulder. He puts his hand on Khasos' arm, ready to shove him aside and charge in if danger presents itself. "Careful, wizards get up to some strange stuff, or so I hear. You never know what we might find in here."
You open the door to the warehouse and peer inside. Most of the furniture has been removed, save a rickety bed, a few makeshift bookshelves and a table. In the centre of the room lies an old rug, on top of which you see the bodies of Vghotan and the other five goblins your party defeated the night before. An old man, clad in dirty robes haphazardly crafted from what looks to be old scraps of rags and furs, stands behind the table. His wirey, snow coloured hair sticks out at odd angles, and a long crooked nose juts out from his craggy face. He looks up as you disturb the tranquility of his domain, and squints.
"Bah! I was under the impression that Lord Ulbrec had prepared these quarters for *me*, yet clearly I am mistaken. Why else would you brazenly disturbed my work here? Who are you, and what do you want?" he sneers.
Tyrek scowls at the cold once more as they trek to the old mage's warehouse. The illuskan looks surprised when Khasos boldly opens the door.
When the old man calls out his challenge, Tyrek steps quickly in out of the cold, blowing briefly on his hands to warm up.
"Well then, it looks like Lord Ulbrec misled you, since *he* sent us here. Heh. Look, we'll get out of your hair as soon as you take a look at the scroll." He does his best to match the mocking tone of the mage, with some success. Unfurling the scroll, Tyrek holds it up on one hand.
"Gah, what does he think I am, some kind of miracle worker? The guards already dropped these off here at the crack of dawn, I was told to prepare my spells to interrogate them." he says, gesturing toward the goblin corpses which line the floor.
"When I departed Cormyr with the Iron Collar band, I assumed this would be an opportunity to further my studies of necromancy among the tribal spellcasters. Apparently my job now entails teaching illiterate adventures how to read. Here, quickly then! Show me this scroll!"
You notice a distinct yet subtle change in Phaen's demeanor at the mention of a scroll. Even though it's quite cold inside the warehouse, you see nervous beads of sweat beginning to form upon his brow.
You recall hearing that a necromancer joined the Iron Collar band in Luskan. According to the braggings of the other members of Phaen's crew, he was not a part of the band when they departed Cormyr.
Khasos, remembering what he learned in the tavern, is immediately suspicious. He is not subtle; he levels his crossbow at the old man, prepared to fire at the first sign of danger.
"You are not who you claim to be! Be on guard, friends; no Necromancer was with the Iron Collar in Cormyr! Who are you, impostor?"
Without missing a beat, Thâdænn steps up next to Khasos and follows up the shaman's allegation with one of his one. "You look quite nervous at the mention of the scroll... I'm beginning to doubt you are even a necromancer... Answer my friends question now!" Arcane energy begins to crackle on the dwarf's fingertips as he prepares to cast a spell should the imposter become hostile.
Tuva looks briefly startled at the sudden allegations, but quickly joins ranks. "Pit your sorcery against my witchcraft if you dare," she says as her raven bobs up and down eagerly.
Slightly surprised at the way things developed, Griff pushes into the room so he has a clear space between himself and the wizard. "What's all this? You lyin' sack o' crap, who are you?"
"Fools! You have no idea what you are getting yourselves into! You have stumbled upon something far bigger than yourselves!" Phaen exclaims at the sudden burst of movement from you all. "It is of little consequence; Targos shall fall and if you have cast your lot in with these pathetic wretches then you shall fall alongside them.' he mutters as an afterthought, all the while his hand begins to weave arcane shapes in the air. He grunts as Khasos' crossbow bolt strikes him, before completing his spell.
Griff hears a whisper in his mind, a spectral voice promising eternal pain and suffering. He shakes it off, determined to turn the face of his opponent into pulp. Charging in to close with the necromancer, his path is blocked by the goblin corpses as they rise into the air like marrionettes on a string. Unable to reach Phaen, he moves in and lands a punch square on the creature closest to Phaen. It folds as it's neck snaps back with a sickening crunch.
Thadaenn's prepared spell blasts from his fingertips, the multicoloured ray of light washing harmlessly over the undead goblins before hitting Phaen with a dull hum.
Khasos will, on his turn, reload his light crossbow and take a five foot step north. He will then attack one of the Goblins that is not yet in melee.
Tuva points to Griff with her dark gaze, and the raven follows her eye line and also watches him. It makes an odd clicking sound that seems halfway between a birdcall and a throaty laugh.
With a scowl at the rising goblins Tyrek pulls his sleeves up, revealing the burned flesh on his wrists and forearms, and steps forward. He hadn't gotten to burn anything real in a very long time. It's time.
A fierce gout of flame bursts from the illuskan's hands and washes over three of the goblins.
Flames fan out from Tyrek's hands, filling the warhouse with a harsh dry heat for just a moment. The spell catches the undead form of Vghotan and his two nearest allies, scorching flesh with a sickening smell. The centre goblin manages to avoid the hottest part of the flame, however the other two victims aren't so lucky. Onee seems to melt before your eyes, leaving a hideous puddle of melted flesh and charred bones. The other, the zombified corpse of Vghotan, takes the brunt of the heat and glares at the oracle with fierce hatred.
"Oh! How I hate zombies!" exclaims the frantic dwarf as he turns his attention to the goblin undead. Thædânn shouts in draconic several arcane words and oil begins to bubble up through the floor.
Thadaenn conjures up a thick, viscous layer of oil where the zombies of Vghotan and another goblin stand. They move to step out of the inhibiting mess, and in doing so slip straight onto their faces.
No longer havingg a clear avenue of attack, Khasos instead calls on his divine powers to bolster his allies.
Roaring in anger, Griff steps up to the necromancer and throws a heavy punch, attempting to knock him out quickly.
bless: +1 attack, saves vs fear (10 rounds)
Ward hex: +2 AC, saves until hit
Power attack: -1 attack, +2 damage
Weapon focus: +1 attack
Total: +6 attack, 1d6+7 damage, AC 2, Fort 7, Ref 8, Will 5 (6 vs fear)
Tuva follows up as Griff steps forward and once again offers him a momentary flash of insight into the future, a few moments away.
Griff steps forward over the dead goblin, roaring as he throws his fist in a wide arc. He stumbles over the corpse of his previous enemy though, and misses the frail old wizard.
Khasos summons the blessing of Selune, and the warehouse is briefly lit with a shimmering, silvery glow as divine power bolsters you all.
Tuva steps forward toward Griff, calling upon her witchcraft to give the half-orc a vision of what may occur in the next few seconds.
Tyrek closes his eyes for a moment, the visible relief in his expression and stance almost physically tangible.
That feels so... much... better. Let's do it again!
With a grin, the illuskan opens his eyes and takes a step to the side, lighting up the remaining goblins with another fan of flames. Tyrek seems almost gleeful. No... not almost. Definitely gleeful.
"Ha haha!"
The goblin closest to Phaen is singed heavily by the flames, though he stubbornly writhes around the his puddle of grease.
Vghotan clumsily lurches backwards, managing to avoid the brunt of Tyrek's spell, while the third goblin falls to the ground with bubbling flesh.
Enraged, the zombie of Vghotan staggers toward Tyrek and lashes out with sharp claws, while the prone goblin next to Griff reaches out and grabs at his ankles.
As Nilah casts her magic in the Abyssal tongue, a look of recognition crosses the old wizards face, and he briefly looks to her with an unmistakable expression of intrigue. Snapping his attention back to the threat at hand, Phaen begins to incant another spell, and with a hand wreathed in dark energy reaches out to touch Griff.
"Uvelucal!" Thâdænn shouts in draconic, his hand extending out to the farthest undead goblin. A green glob of acid fires through the air...
Although he had conjured a sizable amount of acid, the dwarven sorcerer's aim fails him and the acid strikes the far wall. It briefly bubbles as it begins to corrode the aged, wood planks that make up the shanty, and then fades from existence.
Khasos calls upon the power of the stars to interfere with Phaen's accuracy.
"If any of you are injured, fall back to me!"
Growling with frustration, Griff takes another swing at Phaen. "Damn wizards! The world'd be better off without the lot 'o ye!"
bless: +1 attack, saves vs fear (10 rounds)
Ward hex: +2 AC, saves until hit
Power attack: -1 attack, +2 damage
Weapon focus: +1 attack
Total: +6 attack, 1d6+7 damage, AC 21, Fort 7, Ref 8, Will 5 (6 vs fear)
Griff steps in and lets loose a mighty punch, connecting fairly with Phaen's jaw and gruesomely disclocating it with a sickening 'CRACK'. The wizard slumps to the floor instantly.
Tuva squeezes past the bench (5' step north) and continues to provide guidance to Griff.
The bolt of magical energy flies from Nilah's hand, striking Vghotan in the chest. It burns a fist-sized hole in the goblin, and the unnatural light fades from Vghotan's eyes as his corpse falls to the ground.
The small illuskan man smirks at the group's efficiency and steps up to the final goblin, conjuring flame in his palm and pressing it into the creature's flesh.
Tyrek presses the magical flame into the remaining goblins face, melting through the skin and bone leaving nothing but a smoldering hole in its head.
Khasos looks around, his concern for his allies foremost in his mind.
"Is everyone all right?"
Thâdænn searches Phaen's body as well as the surrounding area while inquiring if anyone has shackles or rope to bind the necromancer's hands. While doing so, he'll strip a piece of cloth from Phaen's clothing and use it as a mouth gag, preventing the caster from invoking any spells.
"I am... uninjured. Anyone else?"
Searching the bookcase reveals a few items of interest.
Phaen is wearing a pair of bracers, with runes you recognise as symbols of warding.
He also has a tarnished brass key, which seems to fit the lock on the small chest at the foot of his bed.
As you inspect the chest, you can see a subtle enchantment of the evocation school is present. Even though you have the key, common sense dictates that Phaen would have more than one contingency protecting the chest containing his more personal and secret effects.
"Nilah! Tuva! You may find this interesting... and useful." Thâdænn calls out as he lifts up Phaen's spelllbook for all to see.
Checking over the unconscious necromancer, the dwarf gets a rather curious look upon his face, "Hmm... interesting bracers, he is wearing. There are many engraved runes upon them. Yes, yes, I do believe these are symbols of warding. A set of magical bracers to give the wearer a bit of protection, I would guess." He looks them over very closely, inspecting them with meticulous precision. "I could put these to good use... of course, you could as well, Tuva."
Turning his attention to the chest, he continues, "I found his key to his chest, but I'm loathe to use it. There looks to be a bit of evocation magic protecting it. These wizardly folk are a cautious group, I've heard. I suspect that he's cast a protective ward over it, and whoever is foolish enough to open it is in for a big surprise!"
Moving everyone back away from the chest and outside of Phaen's shanty, Thâdænn casts a cantrip and the key floats through the air towards the chest. The mystical hand guides the key into the lock and turns it as far as it will go. Then, guiding the hand, Thâdænn uses his cantrip to lift the lid.
|
At Tuva... "Nope, no scratches here."
To Thâdænn: "I'll leave the the spellbook to Tuva. I'm not the studying type of caster. Pure talent." She smirks at him.
As she watches him send a mage hand at the trapped chest, before it reaches...
"Excellent thinking, Thâdænn! Here's hoping the blast radius is small."
She takes several steps backward.
Tyrek slaps Khasos on the back with a grin. "We're doing just fine. That necromancer didn't know what hit him!"
The small illuskan lets out a chuckle before watching Thâdænn perform his magic trick.
Khasos’ mood is a bit more dour than his friend Tyrek’s.
”And for that I shall be glad to raise an ale later; but I am quite keenly interested in discovering why it was necessary in the first place.”
As Thadaenn's ensorcelled key floats into place and turns in the lock, an ear-piercing scream fills the air. You imagine the magical voice would been quite painful to hear had you been closer, and Thadaenn's quick thinking has saved you all from a lot of grief.
Inside the chest, you find a number of mundane items. A warm coat of furs, an elegant dagger, a vellum scroll and a small leather bound journal are the most eye catching possessions in Phaen's chest.
The coat seems to bear a minor enchantment to ward against cold.
The dagger seems to be very well balanced, and holds a keen edge.
The Journal is bound in a bitter smelling leather. The pages are covered in scrawling writing of a similar script to the scroll you found on Vghotan.
The vellum scroll bears almost identical runes as the one currently in your possession. It is similarly warm, and smells of brimstone.