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Soliel grinned evilly as her weakened foe stood next to her, distracted by other advancing threats. Propelled by Dareon's mental magic, she turned into a whirlwind of death.
Attack #1 (Miss)
Attack #2vs Flat-Footed AC. If hits:+Sneak Attack+5/rnd Bleed+Flensing Strike (5 off any natural armor and has Sickened Condition+Debilitating Injury: Disoriented (-4 to AC vs Soliel, -2 for others for 1 rnd)+False Attacker: Bluff Checkvs higher of foe's Perception or Sense Motive skills.
Attack #3vs Flat-Footed AC. If hits:+Sneak Attack+5/rnd Bleed+Flensing Strike (5 off any natural armor and has Sickened Condition+Debilitating Injury: Hampered (1/2 Mv rate, no 5 ft step allowed for 1 rnd)+False Attacker: Bluff Checkvs higher of foe's Perception or Sense Motive skills.
Attack #4vs Flat-Footed AC. If hits:+Sneak Attack+5/rnd Bleed+Flensing Strike (5 off any natural armor and has Sickened Condition+Debilitating Injury: Hampered (-4 to hit Soliel, -2 for others for 1 rnd)+False Attacker: Bluff Checkvs higher of foe's Perception or Sense Motive skills.
That remains to direct the light to burn the medusa, and the other one disappears for this turn. After directing the searing radiance, the Edmond that remains closes his eyes.
Between the onslaught of Ian's attack, Soliel's flaying, and Edmond's burning flames the medusa perishes.
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Not wasting a moment to celebrate the hard-won victory, Soliel made sure no one besides Edmond and Ian was looking before morphing her disguise and dropping her natural camouflage. It's me, she started with, to ensure her companions knew it was her despite looking nothing like her true self, we need to move quickly. Ian, drag this body over to Anthony's and search them. We need to make sure none of the bodies are taken. Edmond, get the nearest town guard to assist in securing the scene and send Snake-Man to guard the bodies near the entrance to the Inn. I will secure the bodies inside the Inn. Go!
Soliel then darted off towards the Inn entrance, looking a bit like Serelina without trying to actually impersonate the mage. Guards, come quickly! she shouted, as she raced back into the Inn. Inside she moved quickly to where the fallen bodies were to search them and ensure none were moved.
Ian is still panting when the dust settles and the medusa-thing lay still on the ground. He starts to chuckle when Soliel shows herself, exhilarated and victorious, wanting to celebrate, but when Soliel starts giving orders he focuses back on the task at hand, picking up the drow woman over his shoulder and jogging back towards the other bodies.
When he gets back to Sic's body (if it's still there), he spits on him then stabs his greatsword down through the half-orc's neck. "Been awhile, Sic. Good f!%~in' riddance," he wrenches down, halfway decapitating him. He wipes the greatsword's blade off on Sic's armor before sheathing it, then rips Sic's head the rest of the way off with brute force.
Then Ian searches for the body of the one-handed man that attacked Edmond, still carrying a severed head and a body over his other shoulder. He knows Soliel said to search the bodies, but he can do that after, right? This is personal. This is history.
If he finds Vaek's body, he'll drop the drow lady nearby and take out his dagger, kneeling next to him and showing the unconscious human Sic's severed head. He takes his dagger out and pokes Sic's face with it. "Whatdya think of that, huh? Like a family reunion. Sorry old friend, we ain't arresting you this time. That just leaves the hard way," he says as he moves the dagger to Vaek's face, pressing it into the corner of his eyesocket and down into the skull--not too fast either.
If any bodies are missing, he'll do a quick search and let Soliel know, otherwise, he'll probably be there finishing off Vaek when they regroup.
"Might as well behead them all. The message is that the tower no longer wears kid gloves. We will not be opposed." Edmond says, taking a moment to renew the expended blessing on Ian before following Soleil's instructions while not getting too far from the scene.
Among a host of magical items, the medusa has a small notebook filled with writing in a language you do not understand.
Back at the tower, Master Veray receives you to take your report. He offers high praise at the groups elimination of Diguri. "She has long been a blight on our city, probably longer than any of us have been around given her shapeshifting ability and the naturally long life span of such creatures. But that makes me wonder about possible ties to other crime lords in the kingdom, particularly Issust Hold. That rakshasa you defeated a week or two back... I can't help but wonder if she shares a bloodline with them."
He looks at the book taken from the medusa, scanning over it. "Cyclopian? That seems rather odd. At least the writing is cyclopian, but it doesn't make any sense. A code of some kind perhaps? Well we will have to unravel that mystery another time. I think you are due for a much needed break."
He dismisses the group, but there is the clear sense there is something he is not telling the group. He also holds Ian back, "You've earned a longer break if you want. Your debt's are repayed, but let's keep it that way" he offers a genuine smile.
After decapitating the enemies on Edmond's recommendation, Ian coordinates with the arriving guards to help get the scene cleaned up and the bodies brought back to the Tower.
He's surprised when someone suggests the drow is Diguri. "The big boss? Gotta give her respect for showing up to do dirty work. Mistake, but still."
Other than that, Ian was quiet. It was the second time in a relatively short time that he'd almost died. If not for Edmond, this could have been the end of a long road for him. Killed twice by the same c#!+s. They wouldn't bring his old ass back again, that'd be it. Last time he almost died he'd almost drowned in sewage fighting demons.
This was way out of his league. The Mages needed people like Soliel and Edmond. Smart, able to adapt and overpower in any scenario. He was just an old man who could swing a sword, better suited for breaking up bar fights than stopping ancient vampires and demons. And he wasn't getting any younger. Every morning his jog up the tower steps was getting harder, not easier. His knees hurt from decades of living in steel armor, patrolling and standing around. He wanted to protect Coran, but the level of threats the Tower dealt with was beyond him, and he was already past his prime.
He glanced at Soliel as they walked back. She looked like this was just another day for her, serving the Tower. And Edmond seemed even more fired up than usual. Ian was just tired. He looked down at his breastplate, with deep claw marks torn through the steel from Anthony's weird multi-armed ghost demon thing. The flesh was healed, thanks to Edmond, but he could feel the air on his skin underneath.
~~~
When they got back to the Tower and debriefed, Ian nodded to Veray, "We'll talk later," and headed back to his quarters without another word.
After he shut the door he worked on prying off the damaged plate mail as it tore at his skin, then peeled off the blood-soaked clothes underneath that stuck to him. His own blood. After heating water in the hearth and filling a bath, he eased his large frame down into the wooden tub, displacing water until some sloshed over the sides.
His whole body was a history book of scars, the most faded from back when he was a kid, picking fights and robbing other kids. He used to be skinny, just scrappy and mean, but that was a long time ago. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what he would even do if he retired. He imagined building a cabin by hand near a river, sleeping in a tent until he could finally get the roof on. Buying food from the local farmers and cooking it over a campfire, then going back to work, felling tree after tree, building the home he'd die in. Sitting in the doorway at dawn to watch the sun rise.
Ian wished his kids would be there, or visit, but he'd mostly given up on that. He didn't blame them, just hoped they were okay out there.
The funny thing was, he wasn't thinking about Pesh for once, wasn't craving that escape. He could feel the itch, but the part of him that always gave in was done looking away. It was time to face things instead. He didn't want to die a coward.
~~~
After drying off and changing into clean, fresh clothes, he sat down at his desk and stared at a blank piece of parchment for a long time before dipping a quill in ink and slowly writing crude letters on it.
Thinking about retiring or trying. We done a lot of good here. Bet you done your share out there
You ever back in coran track me down. Know you can
Hope I see you around Little Brother
-Ian Marros
He folds the letter and puts it in an envelope, dropping it off with the Tower scribes and messengers before heading to talk with Master Veray.
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Re-checking the stoppers for the 3rd time, Soliel packed away the last of her alchemical supplies. One advantage of wearing, thanks to extradimensional spaces for pockets, most of one’s possessions was that packing took relatively little time. Her small altar to Abadar, the alchemical supplies and a bedroll were essentially all that went into the backpack the tiefling slung over her shoulder. She left the small basement room in the Tower without a look back.
Packing had, however, served as a momentary respite to take her mind off of her next mission. Not the mission itself: Master Veray had honored her by saying she was needed to handle emerging threats in Isstus Hold. Diguri’s journal, the code now cracked, had led to a concerning steam of plots and threats out of the Hold. The criminals there needed a sharp check. No, the mission itself was well-suited to her skill set. Even most of the team she was assigned to was fine. Aurelion was naïve but pliable, Tunny pragmatic and Leo Spellworthy adaptive. But of all people, why Roland would be joining them was beyond her. Master Veray had simply smiled when she began to protest, and to her embarrassment reminded her of the great faith the Mageocracy places in the Friends of the Tower to handle all contingencies well. All contingencies. Not for the first time she thanked Abadar for the foresight to make some additional doses of soothe syrup before packing up completely.
Before leaving the Tower for the forseeable future, she said her brief, formal goodbyes to Edmond, as well as the Masters she could find on short order. Friends of the Tower never made a show of coming and going, and if farewells could not be shared then perhaps if fortune shone they could later. Master Veray and Master Isul were their usual friendly, if somehow wary, selves. Master Hast and Master Bellafini offered more seemingly heartfelt farewells, if tinged with concern over now not having a “sensible” sort as herself immediately available. Ian would have received a goodbye as well, she always prioritized those she shared the trenches with for such things, but the man had left a few days earlier after a brief, somewhat awkward farewell in which he mentioned something about securing a piece of land by a stream.
Dawn was near breaking as she stepped to the front door of the Tower, and Soliel knew the merchant boat she had chartered to the Hold, or rather “Methil Perkina” the alchemical supplies hawker had chartered, would not wait long. Morphing her guise to look like a frumpy middle-aged female human merchant, she hoisted her pack and made her way out into the gloom.
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The sun about to rise, Ian emerged from his worn tent, thinking of the last bits of work the roof would need. Today could see it finished, but first he would indulge himself with a moment to watch the morning light arise over the river bank.
Looks like you have a bit of work to do here, Ian. Aye, best be at it rather than laying around.
The voice came from the low branch of a nearby tree, as a familiar halfling hopped down and into plain view. Dressed in the loose black clothing the ex-guardsman had grown accustomed to seeing Friends of the Tower wear, Tomlin looked much the same as Ian remembered. Perhaps a bit more battle-hardened. The halfling’s countenance was just as grim, but a spark in his eyes spoke both of an increased personal prowess as well as Tomlin’s genuine pleasure at seeing an old friend.
Offering a hand in greeting to the much, much large man, Tomlin continued to survey the site. So this is to be your retirement home? Tomlin frowned as he looked around. Not very defensible, could be easily surrounded here and never hear them coming what with the babbling brook there. A short chuckle followed. Aye, but I suppose you picked the spot more for the feel than for practical matters. As the two talked, Tomlin seemed to know all about the groups’ victory over Diguri, Anthony and the rest, but thanked Ian for the letter nonetheless. The conversation then devolved into general catching-up, generously sprinkled with admonitions from the taciturn halfling for Ian to stay away from pesh, combined with begrudging gladness that Ian had seemed to have done just that.
After the two spoke for bit, Tomlin added, Jori Banest is retiring as well. Master Veray has seen fit to assign me as lead trainer for the Friends. Tomlin’s comment gave away little, but Ian could almost detect a whiff of simultaneous disappointment and pride in the assignment. So I’ll be out of the field and back in Coran, at least for the time being. And if you start thinking twice about this silly retirement business, the halfling had made it clear at several points that the Tower’s foes never “retire”, so why should its allies, I could find a good instructor role for you. Not for stealth and alchemy of course, but you do know how to swing a blade.
Dusting off his hands, Tomlin looked westward as the sun’s rays illuminated more of the surroundings. Must be leaving now. I have one last piece of…business to take care of in Gumlat before I settle into my new job. The halfling’s tone made it clear that “business” would certainly involve at least one person opposing the Mages stepping off the mortal coil.
Rising to leave he added, even if I can’t talk ya back into the fight, let me talk ya into a beer if you wind up in town. He offered a last nod to Ian, then took several steps away before vanishing completely.
Of the group, it was Edmond to be the one to remain with the Tower without leaving the city. From his room halfway up the tower he enjoyed a vantage point higher up than most of his kind, and luxuries that most did not get. Yet he scowled deeply out the window, counting in his head each hive of crime he could see in the city below. It was little pleasure, even for him, to imagine each as a smoking crater.
They had done a great deed, but greater deeds still remained. With the softer old guard of the Tower waning in power, it was time for his types to rise. The Tower would not be played again. Those who oppose would be burned, finally and in public as a message. Ill-gotten gains seized and the poor taken care of with the proceeds. The only way to make sure that crime truly did not pay.