Neva eyes flitted between Rutter, Vyshael, Raliscar and the undead monstrosity, trying to decide where to apply some positive energy. Doubt and fear clouded her mind. Every second seemed to last a day.
Raliscar exhales heavily, a small spray of spit and blood staining his moustache and beard with the sound. "All right then, ye freakshow bone-hand lunatic. Those're my friends yer cuttin' up! Ye'll be leavin' 'em alone if ye know what's best!" His movements quickened by Feldy, the dwarf takes a single step backward before letting a trio of bolts fly.
HP: 34/64
AC: 21 (14 T / 17 FF)
CMD: 21
F/R/W: +9/+11/+5
Ranger's Focus (+4/+4): [X] [X]
Level 1 spells prepared (1+1): gravity bow [X] [X]
Necklace of Fireballs: 6d6 [X] // 4d6 [X] [X] // 2d6 [X] [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
Favored Terrain (underground/dungeon): +2 to Initiative, Perception, Stealth, & Survival for ALL party members
Ranger's Focus (Evil Lady): +4 to hit, +4 damage
Deadly Aim: -2/+4
Haste (1/6): +1 to hit, +1 AC, +1 Ref, +30ft move
Neva finally decided on Vyshael, as he seemed the most wounded.
To the monstrosity she shouted, "The Grey Lady will have your soul for this! How dare you presume to take life in this way. Your b$$$! goddess will fall, and her plans will come to nothing!"
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Feldivar is running out of options, but decides that he may be able to help those that still have a few left to do more. Taking a couple steps forward, he casts a spell, and everyone in the group feels almost as if time has slowed. Their actions and movements happen at an incredible pace, allowing them to do more with what time they have.
Rutter decides that now is the time to go for broke. He has no way out now but through the twisted form that is the Daughter of Urgathoa. Using the advantage of his heightened speed and Vyshael on the other side, he steps up and manages to lay into with three quick strikes, one of which only barely got through due to his hastened pace. In his desperate move, Rutter managed to do almost as much of an assault as she had already received.
The thing turns with eyes burning a deep red of rage, ready to rid herself of this bothersome halfling. It was the opening Raliscar needed, and with a word of admonition, he fires into her side. the bolt pierces deep enough that the shot is the final nail in a coffin that should have already been closed. She screeches in violent shock, as the body begins to bubble and churn away into little more than a fetid pool of green ichor. Laying within is the dead pale lady that she was before the transformation.
As she melts away, Neva moves to press the wand to Vyshael, before any more changes can occur and it's too late to help him.
Vyshael blinks as the Daughter begins to dissolve, and relaxes, letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding as he prepared to be struck again... the begins to chuckle as he realizes he was bracing himself... and that, somehow, impossibly, they'd won.
He laughs, "Rutter, that was downright ferocious... and it set her up for a perfectly placed shot from Raliscar--," he stops suddenly, realizing that he probably looks hysterical, then shrug, "Sorry, I'm a little giddy - partially blood loss, but also I was pretty sure that I was about to die."
The gnome very timidly re-enters the room, his dog sniffing around - but not too closely - at the nasty puddle that used to be the most formidable foe he thinks he's ever had the displeasure of seeing.
He looks around the room at his new allies and at the remains. His mouth opens and closes several times before he finally can say something. "This has all been very exciting, but I'm not sure I'm up for a fight like that ever again..."
He will endeavor to gather up anything of value in the room while the others are checking their wounds. He will cast detect magic and gather what he finds near the entrance.
Raliscar barks a loud as his bolt brings the twisted horror down at last. He looks up at Vyshael, and grins through his bloodied beard, "Aye! You an' me both, lad. You an' me both!"
He exhales heavily at this, huffing for a few breaths as he works to catch his breath. He cocks one eyebrow at Feldy's comment and looses a chuckle. "Heh! What's that, Feldy? Are you tellin' me that madwoman there was the one to finally knock some sense into that brightly topped skull o' yours? Hah!" He claps the gnome on the back and winks. "Lad, no one in their right mind ever wants a fight like that. And don't ye doubt for a second that it would've been th' same outcome without yer help. It'd've been right different without ye."
HP: 34/64
AC: 20 (13 T / 17 FF)
CMD: 20
F/R/W: +9/+10/+5
Ranger's Focus (+4/+4): [X] [X]
Level 1 spells prepared (1+1): gravity bow [X] [X]
Necklace of Fireballs: 6d6 [X] // 4d6 [X] [X] // 2d6 [X] [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
Favored Terrain (underground/dungeon): +2 to Initiative, Perception, Stealth, & Survival for ALL party members
Ranger's Focus (Evil Lady): +4 to hit, +4 damage
Deadly Aim: -2/+4
Neva felt a wave of exhaustion and relief wash over her. "Let's make sure there is nothing else down here, and then get out of this hell hole."
Feldivar looks about the room with a discerning eye for auras. It takes him a while, as the magic collectively borne by the group itself takes some time to look past, but as he focuses his attentions on the ooze-coated form of the woman he sees a few things. Her scythe laying across the room, her breastplate, cloak, and amulet all have auras of their own. The weapon will be easy to get to, but getting the others without at least a little of the foul substance getting on your hands will be difficult.
The gnome lugs the large-to-him weapon across to the entrance before considering the conundrum of the worn objects.
”I am sure that whatever she is now is probably toxic, don’t you think? Maybe they could be washed in something and made safe?”
Casting a cantrip , he tries to pull the three magical items from the ooze, but the armor is too heavy to even budge. The cloak, wet with fluid, he can only drag free, but that just spreads more ooze across the floor and he stops. The amulet he plucks and dunks repeatedly into the water like an invisible washerwoman is scrubbing it. Setting it back on the floor, he tries another cantrip.
With repeated castings , he works to remove a little of the ooze at a time.
Rutter hangs his head in exhaustion. Without looking at anybody, he heads over to the same vat of poison he'd used before and washes both his kukri blades in the poison, thinking about how close that battle was.
Eventually he sheaths his blades, still glistening with the deadly coating. He turns back to the party with a grimace. His face finds, Raliscar's: "I guess I gotta buy you a pint for that, huh? He finally cracks a grin and continues to catch his breath watching Feldy clean the valuable items.
Eventually Rutter gets an idea. He takes off his quickdraw shield and uses it as a makeshift bucket, scooping up a bit of water on each trip from the fountain, and then pouring it over the goopy breastplate, attempting to dilute and rinse away the remains of the witch.
As the others sorted through the room, Neva tended to their many wounds. At one point, she gathered everyone together for some prayers and blessings.
With everyone mostly healed by Pharasma's grace, Neva gave one last ministration from a wand to Vyshael.
Raliscar grins at Rutter as Neva brings her goddess' grace to bear for the group. "Jus' one? After all o' that?! We better be drinkin' a right fair amount more than one!"
HP: 56/64
AC: 20 (13 T / 17 FF)
CMD: 20
F/R/W: +9/+10/+5
Ranger's Focus (+4/+4): [X] [X]
Level 1 spells prepared (1+1): gravity bow [X] [X]
Necklace of Fireballs: 6d6 [X] // 4d6 [X] [X] // 2d6 [X] [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
Favored Terrain (underground/dungeon): +2 to Initiative, Perception, Stealth, & Survival for ALL party members
Ranger's Focus (Evil Lady): +4 to hit, +4 damage
Deadly Aim: -2/+4
Vyshael smiles as the healing energies wash over him, then suddenly shrinks back to normal size. Potions may be faster than casting, but they are less elegant and seem to end a little more roughly, he thinks then stretches out getting used to the change in scale of the world.
He notices the work that Feldivar has begun, and offers, "Let me help you with that," adding his own castings of prestidigitation .
Despite the contagion that is each of the seven pools about the room, the fountain itself doesn't have the same effect. Between the castings of prestidigitation and Rutter's shield bucket, the foulness is rinsed away from the woman and her things. While all the work is being done, Neva's healing is a welcome change, allowing everyone to feel like they didn't just get smacked around by the near avatar of Urgathoa.
The gnome studies the items to see if he can identify their characteristics after studying their auras further.
"Pfft.. I can't afford your drinking budget, Raliscar - you'll have to make do with one from me!"
Rutter looks around the party, "Speaking of money, we'll be able to sell the scythe, for sure. Don't look like anyone here'll use it. And one of these eversmoking bottles."
He examines the scythe.
Vyshael says, "Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, Raliscar-- there's still the matter of getting out of here - and a few doors that might hold more nastiness -- before we can hit the tavern..."
He adds, "Plus, I'd hate to still be here when the next shift if Grey Maidens arrives. I don't think the wine they serve in prison is any good... And the ale is likely worse."
Feldivar quite handily susses out what qualities each of the items has, except for the scythe itself. That one seems to escape him. The cloak and breastplate both have enchantments of a protective nature, though the cloak is stronger, and the amulet is a periapt that improves upon someone's general common sense and instinct.
"Well, at least they've all some worth and value. Let's gather 'em up and check these other doors. I'm eager to have this rotted hole behind me and to see that trussed up fool in th' other room in Kroft's care."
HP: 56/64
AC: 20 (13 T / 17 FF)
CMD: 20
F/R/W: +9/+10/+5
Ranger's Focus (+4/+4): [X] [X]
Level 1 spells prepared (1+1): gravity bow [X] [X]
Necklace of Fireballs: 6d6 [X] // 4d6 [X] [X] // 2d6 [X] [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
Favored Terrain (underground/dungeon): +2 to Initiative, Perception, Stealth, & Survival for ALL party members
Deadly Aim: -2/+4
Vyshael nods, "Agreed - though I'm thinking it might be worth having Neva put on the amulet, and someone the cloak -- we can split them later, but let's go with any advantage we can."
”Indeed. The amulet, I’ve seen its like before - it’s a good choice for a holy woman. The cloak, it finds its best utility on the shoulders of one targeted by magic attacks. Vyshael, I think that describes you as the leader in melee. You should wear it.”
Vyshael shrugs, "I wouldn't want to deny someone else of it would help them more. But I'll take it. "
As Neva followed Raliscar to the unopened door, she distractedly accepted the periapt from Feldy. She was realizing that Raliscar still had an untended wound on his leg.
She re-drew her wand to solve the problem.
Once done with the healing, Neva reloaded and readied her crossbow.
Again astride Esmerelda, Feldivar watches to see what befalls as they open the portal
When nobody else makes a claim, Vyshael shrugs and throws the cloak over his shoulders, then follows Rutter and Raliscar down the hall, clenching his hand on his mother's blade. "Ready when you are."
As Raliscar opens the door, you see that an elegant operating table dominates the center of this grim laboratory. Crossed with iron restraints and encircled by a gore-encrusted gutter, the macabre device sprouts various cranks and levers, and is large enough to accommodate an ogre. Along the walls stand several tables strewn with all manner of alchemical accoutrements, their contents appearing old in the extreme, with rusted iron tools, beakers of purpled glass, and deep pools of wax from countless melted candles.
A young and unconscious man, barely older than twenty winters, lies upon the operating table, bound by its heavy restraints. While a figure stands over him on the other side of the table. He is dressed in black, which stands out in stark contrast to his very pale, almost white, skin. He is hairless with pointed ears, and a roman nose. He looks neither surprised, nor worried by your presence. "I was wondering when and if your noisome gang would stop by. As you have passed by to other spaces beyond, it begs the question of what all you have wrought among the denizens of this facility thus far?"
Neva's rage and disgust turned to bitter sarcasm as she spoke. "We have wrought vengeance and death upon those who have spread pain and disease throughout Korvosa. Explain, if you can, why you might deserve a different fate. And quickly, or else we'll see if you have expressions other than smug stupidity to share."
Rutter grabs Davaulus to drag along back to the first unexplored door. "Someone else grab that breastplate. We might be able to sell it."
Outside the door, Rutter pushes the unconscious pile against the wall. He draws a kukri, and follows Raliscar into the room. Rutter punctuates Neva's threat by crossing the room toward the creep.
Feldivar arranges the breastplate onto the back of Esmerelda's saddle.
He remains in the hall where he can hear the conversation with the doctor (?) and watch the conscious lump that Rutter deposited.
Vyshael tightens his grip on his mother's sword, adding, Aye, and it's been quite a bit kinder than what your lot seems to have been doing."
Raliscar frowns as he brings his crossbow up level. "Patience an' mercy are in short supply, so get to waggin' that jaw o' yers if ye know what's good fer ye."
He remains in the hall where he can hear the conversation with the doctor (?) and watch the unconscious lump that Rutter deposited.
The odd pale man takes a hand from the mortar resting in the pestle for whatever concoction he may be mixing to raise a single, long, bony finger, topped with its rapier-like nail, to wag it in admonishment. "Tut, tut, tut. It will not do to barge in here and bark demands at me. Are we not capable of engaging in civilized discussion?" He asks with a thin eyebrow raised in inquiry. He returns to mixing his bowl. "I care not one whit about what you may or may not have done to the ones here, and their ilk. I only wish to be allowed to do my own research in peace. The Urgathoans and their obsession with that plague of their's was ever so irksome. If they are out of the way, my time is once again my own. You leave me be, walk away, and I will bother you none."
"Bother? Bother this, ye pale tart!" Raliscar punctuates his retort with a quick shot from his crossbow.
HP: 61/64
AC: 20 (13 T / 17 FF)
CMD: 20
F/R/W: +9/+10/+5
Ranger's Focus (+4/+4): [X] [X]
Level 1 spells prepared (1+1): gravity bow [X] [X]
Necklace of Fireballs: 6d6 [X] // 4d6 [X] [X] // 2d6 [X] [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
Favored Terrain (underground/dungeon): +2 to Initiative, Perception, Stealth, & Survival for ALL party members
Deadly Aim: -2/+4
Vyshael blinks as the familiarity clicks, then snarls as the anger in him rises, "I might, but the sister of that young man on your table would never forgive me for that."
Neva snarled at the smirking creature and raised her crossbow to fight.
Raliscar wastes no time with much in the way of talk beyond a quick insult, firing his crossbow with amazing alacrity. The bolt seems right on target, piercing the sleeve of the man with not the sound rent flesh, but a soft thunk. The bolt hangs limply from the material, as if it just couldn't pierce what lays beneath. Looking at the hole, the man's expression seems unconcerned, "It is unfortunate for you that you chose such a path, as I had hoped this could be settled more simply." He seems mostly annoyed more than anything else, but is ready to return the act of aggression. Raliscar is left a little dumbfounded by the result as everyone else springs into action.
Vyshael begins to put the pieces together of their enemy's appearance, as the combat kicks into gear. The pale skin, gaunt form and pointed ears. It is only the slightest of sneers that cross his face that reveal the two pointed teeth standing out against the upper row. Vyshael remembers these traits from his very first foray with the group, this is a vampire. All the information they had at their disposal to prepare for the last ones comes to mind, but this one is slightly different, this is a variant known as a Nosferatu. They are physically more powerful than a typical vampire, but cannot create spawn.