With a quick flick of his wrist, Reason wrests open the door.
The revealed room is in a state of horrendous disarray. Books have been pulled ruthlessly from shelves, papers scattered wholesale. The authors of this destruction look like nothing you have ever seen before. Four thin beings, robed and armed with wand like pens roam the chamber, stabbing and snatching at anything that comes into their path. The search does not seem directed - its only purpose is destruction - but it is orderly, nonetheless.
As the door opens, the heads turn towards you, revealing vaguely humanoid faces, distorted with intelligent glee and frenzied eyes. They appear to be parodies of academic prowess. Of Pirot Samagal himself there is no sign at all.
Reason's eyes widen and he visibly pales: these creatures are conjured form his deepest nightmares.
"'Ware, Seraphiel, these creatures may be of great prowess."
Seraphiel's attack takes the Scribe by surprise and it skitters backwards on the papers, glaring at the deva.
"Shoddy work." The voice is that of a dessicated teacher, but the movement and the venom of the face warn you to take no chances.
Arianwyn recalls something of these creatures.
Disappointed and twisted souls who have felt overlooked may allow themselves to be drawn into devilish bargains. These creatures are not undead, more a gross perversion of their extraordinary intelligence. They fight mercilessly, seeking to prove their worth with a mixture of mental and physical attacks. Hell Scribes can cooperate to devastating effect, particularly when lead by a Bloody Inspiration.
Their appearance in place of a renowned scholar is both fitting and twisted.
"Such a waste," Arianwyn taunts the creature, but not without some genuine sadness, "Who was your pact with, thing? Asmodeus? Vecna? What is the use of knowledge if it is not shared?"
"Sharing?."
The Inspiration's voice fills with fastidious disgust.
"The folly and weakness of sharing lead us to a joyous servitude. Learn better, eladrin."
Dusty fingers extend and flick bolts of will-sapping energy towards Arianwyn.
The Scribes move towards the door, loathing written large on their faces, a soft babble of debilitating words pouring from their lips.
"Plagarist ..."
"Worthless work ..."
"Tragically poor effort ..."
"Expected better ..." they chorus and with rapid shakes of their arcane quills, send mind numbing blasts among the company.
Volley of Abuse (Ref) v Arianwyn, Seraphiel, Gobi (1d20 10=18, 1d20 10=17, 1d20 10=14).
Volley of Abuse (Ref) v Kia, Gobi, Whiteclaw (1d20 10=19, 1d20 10=13, 1d20 10=25).
Astonishingly, Gobi appears to bear a charmed life. Dwarven upbringing is tough in the mines of his homeland and mere words have no power to harm him.
Vel moves up quickly to where she can see through the doorway (M6) and takes in the situation at a glance.
Hissing, "Perversions!" she makes a throwing gesture with her right arm and a small orange bead flies forth into the room (G12) where it explodes, throwing the room into an instantaneous inferno.
"Sorry, Reason," she mutters.
Flame fills the room as Vel's fireball careens into the grotesque academic perversions. The damage may not be great but they are now aware they are dealing with a dangerous party.
"You could do so much better," croaks the Inspiration as flame boils around the figures.
Arianwyn grits his teeth and a faint trickle of blood oozes from one of his ears. With a flash of light, his sword is drawn, and tumbling in front of his comrades, a rain of acid sprays out across the enemy!
Gobbets of acid streak from Arianwyn's sword tip and add their own smouldering carnage to Vel's flames. Scribe 1 cannot avoid the damage, but Scribes 2 and 3 are made of stronger stuff. Dusty laughter greets the eladrin's efforts.
Arianwyn's eyes flare an ice blue and his grimace tightens.
Frustrated and being hit while being unable to see what is going on through the door. Kia's normal tact and calmness temporarily desert her.
"Get out of the bloody door Arianwyn, or at least hit something! Do you think we could possibly persuade them to come out here? It would make life so much easier."
Commander's Strike through Arianwyn against S3 - vs AC. (1d20+6=17, 1d8+4=5)
Arianwyn says tersely, "If by 'hit' you mean, affect with arcane power, I have already done so."
"Sorry to have doubted your ability. Now, if you would like to move away..."
Arianwyn's sword has no effect on Scribe 3, despite Kia's urging, but with her help he manages to shift away from the scholarly derision of the creature.
Gobi is a light-hearted dwarf, but nothing sets him off like the sight of his friends in harm. The imagery of his friends in trouble, his family and even Roswitha cannot escape his mind, The grip of his hammer is put under stress as he grits his teeth at the Scribes.
The dwarf marches forward and swings at the Scribe closest to himself, unfortunately missing.
As the hammer comes down he pulls his strength into another swing
With a snort, Whiteclaw the boar moves into the room, getting deep into it and slashing at one of the spirits with her tusks.
Her tusks miss the creature and Whiteclaw is back in her gnoll form just beyond them. "Feel the fury of the storm." she snarls. Her axe flashes in an arc and wintery winds manifest, carrying frost and snow over them all.
Astounded by the appearance of the Scribes, Gobi's rage finds no easy target. Whiteclaw barges into the room, acidic quills bouncing off her hide and adds frost to the fire of Vel and Arianwyn's efforts to end the things. S1 and S3 are visibly chilled, but S2 has stronger defenses than either.
Snickering erupts from the Scribes at the varied tactics. "No consistency," "Palpable plagarism," "poor research."
OA on Whiteclaw (1d20 10=12, 1d8 3=8)
OA on Whiteclaw (1d20 10=12, 1d8 3=9)
Arianwyn smiles as he can feel the tides of fate turning in their favour ever so slightly.
Reason calls on Ioun to weaken his enemies and heal his allies.
Beacon of Hope vs Will on S3, S2, S1 (1d20+7=11, 1d20+7=20, 1d20+7=23)
Reason continues to chant, further beams of light arcing towards the closest scribe and The Knight Formerly Known As Rogue.
"Pathetic Fallacies!!"
Reason then falls back.
Reason's pure light restores the deva and weakens the Scribes. Rejoicing in his regained strength, Seraphiel returns the favour sending blinding divine light into the monsters confusing them mightily.
"This is not part of the proper curriculum ..."
"These are uninformed tactics ..."
"Inadequately researched arguement ..." The dusty mutter continues, but you see that two of the creatures have suffered.
That suffering is not prolonged. The Inspiration steps fowards and lives up to its name. Its face alters, growing darker and more choleric, drool forming on its lips "Colleagues! Gather these tragic failures to your bosom! Annotate!" The husky tones ring around the study and the Scribes look considerably better and more dangerous.
The Inspiration turns on Whiteclaw. "Excrescence," it spits, glaring at her. The word hurts horribly, bringing back memories of her early days in Riggarth.
Inspiration v Whiteclaw (Will) (1d20 12=30, 1d6 3=4).
The Scribes turn slowly in the chill, dazed, blinded and weakened as they are, and focus their attention on the gnoll. Softly spoken words with vitriolic purpose roll towards her.
Scribe 1 v Whiteclaw (Ref) (1d20 7=8, 5d6=16).
Scribe 1 v Whiteclaw (Ref) (1d20 7=8, 5d6=16).
Scribe 1 v Whiteclaw (Ref) (1d20 7=24, 5d6=14).
Scribe 2 shakes off the blindness, but remains slowed.
Scribes 1 and 3 can move freely, but are still blind.
Saves v Blindness 1, 2 and 3
Saves v Slow 1, 2 and 3 (1d20=8, 1d20=18, 1d20=9, 1d20=18, 1d20=7, 1d20=10)
Vel smiles. "Fire and ice," she murmurs, as she evokes flames around the three scribes.
Flames surge upwards, hitting Scribe 2, but missing the others. Yet more priceless documentation is destroyed before your eyes.
"The best thing you can do to such poor work," spits the Inspiration.
Arianwyn phases out of the real world and back again across the room in the study. Appearing from thin air, he announces, "Time for a peer review, methinks." Dark energy surges from his sword, blasting the Bloody Inspiration and transporting it next to Whiteclaw.
"Your methodology is flawed, and your findings are based on anecdotal evidence." Arianwyn snarls.
"Whiteclaw, would you care to examine his thesis? And perhaps his spleen?"
Arianwyn's gleeful assault takes the Inspiration by surprise. A trail of rancid drool runs down the dessicated lips as it finds itself forcibly relocated next to Whiteclaw.
"Sloppy scholarship has consequences, fool. Greater ones than you can imagine."
"Oh no, I think I am aware of many things you are not, you sorry excuse for a scholar. When you make a pact, make sure you understand the particulars before you sign on the dotted line." Arianwyn sneers.
"For example," he adds in an odd change of tone, "My membership of the Winter Court is an interesting tale. But then, you won't get to hear it. Which is more the pity for you."
Kia cannot hear too well the banter going on in the next room, but the mention of the Winter Court is a bit unexpected.
"What is that man whittering about? Gobi, my friend, if you would be so kind as to clear a path through the doorway for us...?"
Commander's strike on S3 through Gobi. (1d20+8=13, 1d10+11=20)
Gobi shifts sideways to hold off two of the scribes he strikes at the one closest to the door
This is the Gobi I like to see[/ooc]
Spurred on by thoughts of defending his friends, Gobi finds his form and swipes mightily into Scribe 3, bloodying it. Acidic ink pours from its wounds and the dusty voice hisses in pain.
"Your references cite unsubstantiated and unsustainable claims ..."
Whiteclaw lashes out with her axe and thorns seem to emerge from it, trying to pull one of the scribes to her.
Whiteclaw's blade hisses through the air, missing the Scribe by a hairsbreadth. It snickers nastily at her. Ink drips from its wounds and freezes to the ground beneath its feet.
Reason launches another bolt of light at the Scribe in the doorway.
Divine light pours into the Scribe, now visibly injured. "I am no footnote," it rasps, reaching blindly towards the Inspiration for help.
"Your methodology is flawed beyond redemption," Scribe 3's voice rises to a dusty screech as more divine light sluices away its illusions of grandeur.
The Inspiration turns on Whiteclaw, driving its acidic pen deep into her chest and scoring deep marks into her fur.
"There are no words to describe your gross inadequacy as a student," it sneers.
Inspiration v Whiteclaw. On hit, makes secondary attack v Will. (1d20 12=28, 1d8 6=8).
Inspiration v Whiteclaw. Secondary attack v Will. On hit, target is dazed to end of Inspiration's next turn. (1d20 12=21).
Taking a deep breath, the Inspiration rallies the scribes once more. "True scholarship is so easily quashed. Show your mettle!"
Recharge Tonguelash (5,6) (1d6=6).
The Scribes respond in kind. Scribe 1 directs a devastating diatribe at Reason, Vel and Kia. The mage shrugs coldly, unimpressed by the acadmic invective. Reason and Kia are not so fortunate and quail beneath the words.
Volley of Abuse (Ref) v Reason, Vel, Kia (1d20 7=21, 1d20 7=18, 1d20 7=23).
Volley of Abuse damage (5d6=17).
Scribe 2 turns to Whiteclaw and Arianwyn, subjecting them to the same treatment and ignoring Gobi in the process. The words hit home.
Volley of Abuse (Ref) v Whiteclaw and Arianwyn (1d20 12=21, 1d20 12=23).
Volley of Abuse damage v Whiteclaw and Arianwyn (5d6=16).
Scribe 3 tries to hurt Reason, Vel and Kia again. "You're supposed to be clever," it sneers feebly, ink pouring from its ravaged body. The words bounce harmlessly off the companions.
Volley of Abuse (Ref) v Reason, Vel and Kia (1d20 7=14, 1d20 7=9, 1d20 7=8)
The creatures gather their dusty robes around themselves and retreat from the zone of cold.
Saves v Blindness (1d20=6, 1d20=6).
Vel, stolidly ignoring the invective, aims at the Inspiration. Another red bead shoots forth, this time from her orb, and explodes just behind the creature, knocking one of the scribes prone amidst mystic flames.
Vel's latest addition to her fiery repetoire knocks S1 prone and bloodies it into the bargain. Yet more flames spring up, adding a fresh dimension to the perils of walking around the room for the enemy.
Arianwyn forms a ball of white fire and sends it hurtling towards the mis-shaped Inspiration.
"Let us correct you, you snivelling erratum." he says with an almost merry air.
"At least an addendum is part of the document. You, my professorial popinjay, will be excised in the revision."
Frustrated at not being able to see what is going on, Kia runs into the room and lashes out at the scribe that seems most distressed.
Lashing out against S3 (1d20+9=20, 1d8+3=9)
"You people are dry as dust! You remind me of my old philosophy teacher who never could make a comment without including some sneering self serving remark. It's one reason why I find it hard to be philosophical about things these days, I suppose."