The next morning, the Companions wake to two bleary-eyed rangers and a small, warm fire. A kettle filled with hot water rests on a flat rock as they rub the cold from their limbs. The Burgomaster emerges from his tent moments later, twisting in an awkward stretch. "Rock. Right in the small of the back. I know how funny that must sound to you all since we are oreads and all, but I have become accustomed to my goose down pillow top.
"No real complaints from me though, beats listening to squabbling villagers and looking over tax ledgers. But I don't want you to think that I am skirting my responsibilities longer than I need to by taking you to abandoned sites. There aren't many places that I know of that where the harpies could lair. Hopefully today will be different."
Breaking camp, the rangers turn in for some rest after seeing to the yaks, while the Burgomaster and companions in tow head off on another mountain trail. Luckily this site seems to be a bit below Advanced Base Camp and the companions find the walk peaceful.
Unfortunately, no harpies are found.
The night passes relatively the same, the rangers are up before sunset and have seen to tea and a meager dinner.
Two more days trudging through the mountain, and no sight of the harpies. The elements, altitude, and lack of proper meals are starting to take a toil on the physically fit adventures. Stubble appears on Benaiah's chin, Arimar tries to move heavy stones to keep his muscles from atrophying, Gwen sings songs to pass the time, as Kaddren thumbs through some books of his.
With little hope, they strike out once again. This path rises sharply into the mountain. The air quickly thins as the companions lean over their feet as the walk uphill. Their breath coming in rapid white puffs, the burn of their thighs, and the conversation dies quickly.
+5 vs cold weather
After an hour of hard trekking, they once again come to a cliff face with a ruined temple cresting the ridge. Creeping to 100 feet from the temple, they crouch down to hide behind a small rise. As the companions look over the area they can see that if they take a westward course, they can walk up the rise to the ruined temple. If they strike out north, the cliff face only rises about 10 feet to the temple, whereas if they circled east, the cliff face rises to an elevation of at least 30 feet.
Before approaching the hill, Arimar takes the time to gather the puffing and panting Benaiah and Gwendolyn. "Be at ease," he tells them, allowing the healing magics of Sarenrae to flow through to them, "It looks strange, but purse your lips slightly and take in long, deep breaths. Exhale almost immediately afterwards, keeping your lips pursed all the while. Be sure to breath into your diaphragm - your belly - and not your chest. That's it... keep it going." He is not sure if his tips are actually accurate, but it will at least get them concentrating on their oxygen intake. If all else failed, though, Sarenrae's blessing could be called upon again.
As the companions approach the scene of the ruined temple, Arimar calls everyone to a stop. "How about another invisible approach?" he suggests, "Perhaps levitating to get a good view of what's going on inside the temple? We'll maintain messages like before."
"But--" she says while gasping. "it's so-- difficult-- to breathe--"
Leaning forward now she places both hands on her knees, bending at the waist and taking deep, struggling gasps. "How-- are you not-- exhausted?" she pants while asking her question, though does not look up to Arimar. "I-- might just-- vom--"
After a few minutes spent heeding the advice of the paladin the halfling gains enough composure to react to the situation at hand. "I'm in favor of an invisible approach," Gwendolyn says at last no longer struggling to speak. "That means I would wait here, right? While Kaddren floats up and checks it out..."
"I'm in favor of whatever option lets me catch my breath..."
"Oh," Arimar adds at the last minute, almost forgetting that they could find Harpies here, "Earplugs in, everyone!" He smiles and shoves some beeswax into his ears.
"If you agree, then head in and up whenever you're ready, my good Kaddren,"
Arimar notes, scanning the area up to sixty feet ahead for the presence of evil with his holy sight.
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Kaddren notes that while resting in the advance camp at one point held a somewhat exciting rustic flair of 'roughing it', the appeal was considerably diminished by repeated familiarity with sleeping on hard ground. He gingerly stretches out during the planning for the next expedition. "Our preparation last time seemed to be waver between overkill for the ascent and then insufficient for encountering the Vegemighties, although I suppose any confrontation you can walk away from without being afflicted by fungus in awkward-to-explain-in-delicate-situations is for the best. I can't think of anything significant to change."
Upon reaching the ruins, the arcanist surveys the sight from a distance. "I'll do an approach similar to before, scouting out the back side first and leaving a rope. If there's anything there, it would likely expect an approach from the front... although if there are harpies here, our best bet would likely be strolling up the front anyway, rather than getting attacked while climbing. Be back in a pinch, and again, if if you hear or see me, it will be cause for great alarm." He replaces his ear plugs, removes them for a brief moment to cast his Heightened Awareness and Invisibility and then slinks towards the ruins using the rocky terrain for additional cover before Sliding up to the top of the ruins.
Once again Kaddren uses his magics to augment his senses and obscure his movements from potential enemies. Taking the road less traveled, he decides to skirt below the cliff face. As he moves closer, his nose picks up a scent that he is familiar with, like a dream of long ago.
Living in palatial Kaddren Villa, his older siblings often played pranks on the serious child. One particularly hot summer, so hot cooks turned off their cook fires for the pavement of Magnimar, a certain dead fish, drenched in a river of raw excrement, wrapped in rags saturated with women's menstrual discharge, was hidden in his room. After a few days, the smell was so horrible that his parents suggested burning down the villa and moving to Cheliax.
This was the smell that Kaddren smelled before and wished to never smell again but was breathing in now. Trying to inhale through his mouth, he scanned the area. Pilled up were carcasses in various states of decay, dropping from huge birds, and trash upon trash upon trash. The harpies were either here, or have recently vacated this lair.
The man also recognizes various carvings and religious statues dedicated to Pazuzu.
Ascending the cliff face, he peers into the ruined temple but his view is obstructed. In his field of vision he does not hear or see any haripes.
Pazuzu clearly is a demon. There is no good reason for worshipers of a god of Wind to smell this foul, even if they are part fowl.
Before investigating further Kaddren whispers to the party, "Did anyone bring nose plugs in addition to ear plugs? I thought we were looking for harpies, not troglodytes... though this is probably it. I'm going to see if I can look a bit closer." He then starts to move around to see if he can get a bit better vantage on this side of the temple, looking for harpies or traps alike.
"Well, it looks like the best way forward is to actually go forward," Arimar shrugs, and makes ready to head in to the temple, "If anyone has a better suggestion on how to approach, I'm all ears... clogged up with beeswax ears, but listening nevertheless."
Arimar shoulders his falchion, maintains his detect evil and waits for agreement or objection.
As Kaddren creeps closer for a better look, the companions freeze as a pair of Harpies appears over the northeastern ridge. They are flying haphazardly due to the large mass in their claws that is dragging them down. They swoop low and drop a dead mountain cat in front of the temple before wheeling to the east and circling back to land on either side of the carcass.
Rising from the northwest of the ruin, a trio of harpies fly up and over the top to land beside the carcass. One of the harpies tears into the big cat, slicing through skin and muscle to rip a chunk of meat off, tips her head back, and swallows the meat down her gullet in one snap. The pair besider her look to her before also ripping off their own chunk of cat meat.
"This is what we've been waiting for... remember we only need one carcass, the rest can be driven away," Arimar notes, a sinister grin on his face. When did destroying evil creatures become my only outlet for fun? "I'll take the southern side with Gwen, Benaiah, you should take the northern side solo so that we can get them in a pincer movement."
Kaddren slinks back a bit to where he can Message the party. "They're back... and one of them is the Queen." "Please tell me that you'll be joining me soon.. I've dated enough metaphorical harpies and these are not the sort of female attention that I'm looking for in my life right now."
Arimar smiles and calls back, "On our way, heading through the temple."
Taking a more circuitous path than he would otherwise , Arimar attempts to come in through the western side of the temple. He pays attention to whether or not the harpies come at them as best he can, preparing to sprint for cover or hold his ground as appropriate depending on how the harpies approach and how far away he is when they do.
I'm curious, though, if I'd rolled.... -- [ooc]See, even taking into account my special relationship with the dice roller, it goes down eventually.
Was the Queen visually distinctive? If so, I'll throw in what she looks like
The halfling crouches low and follows on the heels of the trudging paladin. With the first few steps Gwendolyn pulls free two waxy-earplugs and stuff them gracelessly into each ear. As she paces, creeping near to Arimar, she does her best to keep the towering man interposed between herself and the temple, almost as if to remain out of sight even if the paladin were seen.
Unslinging the violin from her back her fingers clench tightly around neck of the instrument while her opposite hand clasps the bow. "I can start playing whenever we need," she whispers, activating the spell to communicate with the others. "Or can start playing before they even see us, so we're protected at all moments from their song... though it would certainly draw a lot of attention..."
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Benaiah, comfortably away from judgemental eyes, opens his snuffbox and systematically consumes several of his alchemical creations. His skin burns in a strangely uncomfortable, yet delightful sensation as the chemicals course through his veins, significantly altering his body.
The chemist grows physically, his muscles straining at the straps of his magically resized armor. He glances over to where Arimar and Gwen make ready to move on the harpies, hoping that he doesn't create a huge clatter and ruin the advantage of surprise that the group currently holds.
Putting one foot carefully in front of the other, he leads with the ball of each foot, easing his massive bulk down as gently as possible and doing his best to mimic the stories of assassins and other sneak thiefs he had read in his youth. Methodically he moves forward, snuff box at his hip as he readies to assault the wicked creatures.
The companions, feeling that they have a great plan for battle against the feasting harpies, begin to leave the shelter of their boulder hideout and move towards the ruined temple. Unfortunately, they do not get very far before the harpies spot them.
The Queen begins gesticulating in the arcane manner, while mouthing words to a spell. Both Gwen and Kaddren can easily recognize it as Good Hope. Posteering her followers, she takes to the sky with a powerful downthrust of her wings rising 40 feet into the air.
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Benaiah's clawed hands reach for his belt as he shuffles forward, frustrated at his lack of ability to remain quiet and filing away a thought of how to remedy that with chemicals.
On his belt he grabs two of his most volatile chemicals, contained in a small leather pouch. He gets ready to crush the barrier that separates them in the pouch and cocks his arm back to throw.
"Get ready for them to take to the skies and attempt to charm us," Arimar warns, "They will resort to melee then. Best we get to the temple if we can. I'll harry them with javelins if they refuse to close."
With that, Arimar draws a javelin from its sheath ready to hurl it or drop it as necessary if a harpy closes with him, holding his falchion one-handed in his left hand.
He concentrates on the evil emanating forth, and vows to Sarenrae that he shall bring it to an end , while simultaneously focusing on his weapon to make its edge all the sharper .
Ahead Gwendolyn can see the queen take to the skies, rising above the ruined temple having just cast a spell. Following closely at the heels of Arimar, her feet carry her over the rough terrain. As she steps closer to looming form of Benaiah stationed ahead, the halfling presses the violin to her chest and immediately clamps down upon the instrument with her chin.
The last few steps deliver Gwendolyn to Benaiah's side as bow drags quickly across the violin strings, manifesting in a veritable eruption of shrill notes that rings clearly in the crisp air, and leaving echoes to roll and fade in slow gradations into the distance. It is an unnatural screech that the halfling projects from the instrument, having given up on the hope of remaining hidden, as the piercing call announces their presence.
Kaddren grits his teeth a bit as his less stealthy party comes up the pathway, sending some small rocks tumbling down and alerting the harpies. Still invisible for the moment at least, he decides that the opportunity for stealth was blown for now and more combat oriented tactical acumen might be in order. Drawing his combat-chained spellbook, he quickly browses through his notes, mentally refreshing the arcane power available to him, and somewhat glad that he is invisible at the moment, lest he start to make a name for himself as a bookworm and or meriting the accusation that he's reading a book in the middle of a fight.
Kaddren slinks back a bit to where he can Message the party.
As the companions close the gap between their defensive position and the feasting harpies, take to the skies. Two of the harpies draw their long bows as they climb into the skies.
Once more arros thud into Benaiah severing an artery. The man quickly pushes the arrow deeper into his chest to stay the flow of blood.
Arimar also feels the bite of the harpy's shot.
The queen begins to sing out her dirge, but the sound is completely drowned out by the melodious music of Gwen violin and the waxy damn in their ear canals.
"My friends, those are no ordinary harpies," Arimar grunts as he rips the arrow free, calling upon Sarenrae to ease his pain , "Retreat may be the best course of action, if we can manage it." Arimar gives a worried glance back the way they came.
Arimar hurls the javelin in his hand at the nearest harpy and hopes for the best, imbuing it against evil creatures.
"Back to cover!" Arimar calls out, retreating as far as he can, trying to be sure that Gwen also retreats before going too far.
Kaddren shuffles through his tactical options, but doesn't have anything immediate that comes to mind. Taking advantage of some of his invisibility, he moves behind the cover, hoping that the party can draw out the enemies some.
"As a last resort, I do have a scroll of Fly I was saving to scribe. But if they don't come to us, Benaiah or Arimar?"
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Not arguing Arimar's call for a tactical retreat, Benaiah turns tail and quicksteps back towards the cover of the cliff face, his heart racing.
"Son of a..." he curses, wrapping his fingers around the shaft of the arrow that sticks from his neck and shoulder. 3 inches to the side and... he shudders at the thought, still gasping for air.
His skin tingles, knowing exactly what might help. Shaking his head in frustration, he lifts a small vial to his nose and takes a quick breath. At the same time, he yanks the arrow out. A spray of blood spatters on to the rocks in front of him, but the chemicals now coursing through his veins clog the slice in his artery, staunching the main flow.
"We gotta get these wenches out of the sky!" he shouts, as if his companions didn't already know.
As the arrows rain down from on high, the looming figures hanging in the sky, rising and falling with each repeated flap of their wings, the halfling cowers away unintentionally. It takes a moment for Gwendolyn to realize that though her mind had been paralyzed by the fear of the falling missles, and for the health and safety of her friends, somehow the ingrained muscle memory of her hands had taken hold and allowed the melody to persist on. The loudly ringing music was rising up in defiance against the screeching and caws of the harpies, though her own mind had nearly been paralyzed by the fear.
Turning now, at last roused into action, she hears the call to retreat from Arimar and watches as the other companions begin moving away from the hovering threats. They were at a disadvantage here, and the terrain and open skies favored their enemies too much. Moving back with the others, Gwendolyn continues to release a shrill song of her own from the violin, her hands racing in a whirring flurry of chaotic movement.
Her job was to keep playing, the others would bring death and ruin upon their enemies. Her friends were the architects and executors of this fight, she was its conductor.
Arimar's javelin if goodness strikes true in the evil woman bird hybrid. Lodging in her collarbone, she lets out a shriek of pain as the holiness of the javelin sears her evil flesh. Once more her cries are drowned out by wax, sting, and harpy.
From nowhere, two arrows hiss across the skies, one trailing by the barest of margins. Before any of the Companions or harpies can track them or their origins, they both thud into the queen's breast with a wet 'THUMP THUMP' sound. Immediately two of her warbirds circle from their defensive formation in an effort to protect their queen. None of the Companions can see where these arrows originated from, only a vague cardinal direction of east.
The remaining warbirds attempt to silence the one Companion that seems to be disrupting their queen's captivating song. They flutter in the skies as they concentrate their efforts on the tiny halfling.
This time Gwen is the recipient of the harpies accurate archery.
"Looks like we've got a bit of help," Arimar grins, "Gwen, get in cover, and let's take the offensive!" Arimar pulls out another javelin as he moves up and lets fly at the orange harpy, also vowing to smite her evil presence from the face of Golarion.
"If you could make me fly, Kaddren," Arimar adds, "Now would be the time to do it... their tactical advantage in the skies is not working for me right now, and I'll eventually run out of javelins."
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Not yet ready to celebrate the help, Benaiah's mind spins trying to figure out how to eliminate the overwhelming advantage of the skies that the harpies hold.
How the F*$& did we not think of this ahead of time? he scolds himself.
Making sure he still has some semblance of cover from the queen and her bodyguards, he turns to put the bulk of his frame in front of the tiny halfling musician. If he was already a pin cushion, he might as well take the bolts instead of Gwen.
The bomb he held in his hand before is still there, and this time he doesn't wait for the right circumstances to use it. Cocking his arm back first, he whips the little ball of chemicals towards the flying arrow flingers.
for
How the F*$& did we not think of this ahead of time? he scolds himself.
Tactical deficiencies being what they are, Kaddren looks towards where Arimar is, before grumbling good naturedly "Move to cover. Make me fly. Things might go a bit smoother if you make up your mind." Of course, he doesn't really have a good way of knowing where I'm at, so I suppose that's excusable. This time. He taps the paladin lightly from behind, Whispering "Boo" as he draws out his scroll. "I hope you know this scroll is worth your weight in gold... armor and all."
Free Action to curse Action Economy.
The halfling stands cowering behind the enormous, bulky frame of her companion. Crouching low, she tries her best to remain out of sight of the hovering threats, using her child's sized frame to create the smallest profile possible. As her hands race wildly, one pressing upon the strings while the other moves in repeated arcs, dragging the bow, her mind begins to plan and prepare for a brief lull in the melody.
A few notes hang in the air, for a moment not followed by a fresh refrain, and Gwendolyn reaches a hand out quickly, while muttering powerful, arcane words under her breath. She then places a hand gently upon Benaiah's dangling arm. As the the words pass her lips, so too does a powerful magical zeal pass to the man.
Immediately she is once again playing upon the instrument as if there had never been a pause, the notes now rising in defiance of the creatures' song. As the new notes echo into the distance, the halfling sidesteps to further conceal herself from sight.
Arimar's second javelin once again skewers an evil harpy. This time his javelin lodges in her waist.
Benaiah, Kaddren, and Gewn all position themselves tactically to preserve the singing of the halfling. The companions think they might maybe see a grey form darting out of a rock formation and back again, but that cannot be sure. What they are sure of are more arrows. This time a quintet of arrows strike the queen and her body guards. Blood droplets cascade down followed by a miasma of feathers. All of the harpies look worse for wear.
The queen utters some gruntal sounds in the arcane language and disappears from sight, as the two war birds circle in the direction the arrows are emanating from.
Meanwhile, the remaining warbirds are tired of the paladin's javelins and their holy energy. Both hover in place and release volley after volley of arrows at the Aasimar.
Only one arrow makes it way through the paladin's defenses. Sarenrae must be smiling on him today.