With a wordless but threatening cry, Gar covers the distance between himself and the nearest choker, his heavy boots scraping across the filth covered ground .
As Vera steadies herself against the charging choker, she steels her arms and drives her rapier into its chest... and then, swerving out of the way, she narrowly avoids falling into the pit. Mama Frill, seeing her friend in trouble, throws a bomb... and immolates the creature - suddenly aflame, the choker flails wildly as it falls into the sewer pit...
...and then, Elliomander's gun booms once more. Obliterated, the second of the chokers ceases to exist...
Vera steps below the crevasse in the ceiling and attempts to skewer the choker hiding up there, which she had been studying earlier.
With nowhere to escape to, the remaining choker - bleeding heavily from the wound inflicted by Vera - lashes out at the investigator with long tentacle-like arms...
Frill again tosses a handful of fire at the closest visible target. She moves to get a better angle if needed.
RTA into melee
Damage
"Let'er go, ya yellow-skinned, sneakin' gutter worm!" Gar screams as he impales the writhing choker from the side, careful to avoiding severing Vera's spine in the process.
Vera grimaces at being grappled by the disgusting rubbery creature, then cries in pain as it strangles her and sinks its teeth into her shoulder. Elbowing the thing in the face, she twists and bucks in a desperate attempt to break free.
Gar's weapon, thrust upwards with barely concealed rage, crunches through bone and sends the choker limp... falling out of the crevasse and tumbling into the sewer pit as its lifeless body crashes downwards...
With the chokers despatched, the group carry out a cursory search of the side-passages... Deposited in the corner of the side branch down the northern tunnel is the desiccated corpse of a halfling, half-eaten long ago by the chokers with the torso and remaining leg left to dry out like jerky.
"I could be wrong," Elliomander quietly states while looking around, "but those creatures didn't seem like the kind of things that would have written that message...
"Mama swears this keeps getting deeper and deeper. Who would've done that message? This is a scary town getting even scarier," she mumbles, as her right paw instinctively moved to pat Millie on the head.
"This town has always been scarier the deeper you look..."
While the others look around the room, Vera removes a conical glass flask from her satchel. Holding it in one hand, she takes out a few other vials of fluid and packets of checmicals and mixes them in the flask, stirring them with a glass rod. Yellowish vapor rises from the flask. She smells the vapor, grimaces, and then raises the flask to her lips and swallows it.
"Ugh." Her face then relaxes, and she closes her eyes and sighs deeply. "Mmmm... That's better..." Some of the wounds inflicted by the choker knit back together. She seems lost to herself for a moment, then snaps out of it.
As Mama Frill and Vera watch, Elliomander takes a look at the semi-eaten halfling corpse... and notices something stuffed - apparently post mortem - into its mouth.
"Careful now, Lio, don't wanna lose a finger on account that things' teeth turnin' out to be functional." Gar looks over the alchemist's shoulder, ignoring the gruesome state of the body as he sheds some light on the mouth cavity. "...what in hells is that?"
Elliomander keeps his gun fixed on the apparent corpse while he cautiously reaches down with his off hand to pull the note from its mouth.
Tentatively reaching into the corpse's mouth, Elliomander retrieves an old dry-rotten leather pouch - dislodging a blackened tooth as he pulls it clear. Wiping it clean and opening it, he finds two immaculately cut jewels (chrysoberyls worth around 150 gp each) and 7 platinum coins...
There is little else of note down either of the side passages where the chokers had been hiding - and, up ahead around the corner of main tunnel where it heads northwards, there was a glimpse of daylight - as if the sewers open out into Castorhage once more...
"Welp, this sure has been a dead end so far," Mama grumbled. "At least let's head toward the light before doubling back and being sure we didn't miss anything..."
"There's a bag of jewels in its mouth..." Elliomander mutters as he finishes cleaning of his fingers, "that seems an odd place to keep them..."
Moving towards the daylight, and the welcome gusts of fresh air, the group arrive at another lock-gate... and, using the key from Old Bill's cart once more, they discover a short stair rising to another courtyard. This one is much like the one the investigators entered the sewers through, though perhaps even more desolate... and whilst the other had a few trees and a shady bench, this has several sickly trees and a thick growth of bracken that has broken through the cobblestones. Also, unlike the other yard which simply had blank brick walls from surrounding buildings closing it off, this one has the boarded-up doors of old businesses that once opened out onto it.
The sounds of traffic and the lifeblood of the city are heard only very faintly from this courtyard... and it is several hundred feet to the north and to the east, along long-abandoned alleyways, before arriving at more heavily travelled thoroughfares.
The two boarded-up businesses that opened onto this courtyard bear signs that read “Abler’s Stitchery: Fine Apparel” and “The Seaside Larder: The freshest fare this side of the sea”.
Intelligence
Something about this area struck Mama Frill as weird, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
"A stitchery..." Gar shudders with distaste. "Don't even like tha sound 'o that! But that other'n there," he adds, pointing toward The Seaside Larder, "that was on one'f Old Bill's lists. What say we pay a visit? Looks like no one's home, anyway." He doesn't comment on the smell of raw sewage drifting off of all of them.
Gar steadfastly approaches the door of the larder.
"That's right, yeah," Elliomander confirms with a nod, "good memory." Gun at the ready, he follows Gar in.
Vera nods at Gar's recollection. Drawing her rapier, she silently follows Gar and Eliomander, trying her best to stay in the shadows and not make a sound.
Once inside, she looks at her surroundings for possible enemies or anything else of interest.
Peering through the boarded up windows of the 'Larder', the group observe the ghostly forms of sheet-draped tables scattered across the room, the chairs that once stood with them surely long since stolen. The dry, cracked remains of an old plaster fountain hang upon the back wall, and a service window opens next to the door to what is likely a kitchen...
The property is boarded up and will need a fairly significant amount of wooden boards to be removed before anyone can gain entry... it won't be particularly difficult to do so but any element of stealth is likely impossible.
Gar nods toward the shadows into which Vera appeared to melt a moment earlier. "Aye, that's the way of it, then. Well, nothin' t'do for it. Let's get started." He jams the tip of his sword behind the weakest looking board, prying it free from the rusty nails that secure it to the doorframe.
Methodically ripping away the wooden timbers that board the door to the 'Seaside Larder' forever closed, Gar forces his way into the premises... and, when no-one / nothing other than his companions join him in the dust-laden building, turns his attention to the southern door. First listening and then, once satisfied, opening the door, Gar discovers a kitchen that long since served its final meal...
The dusty space once served as the kitchen for this establishment, and the faint stench of fish grease still hangs over the place. A large oven and grill stands across the room while at the opposite end a stone basin sink protrudes from the wall. A heavy door, padlock smashed to the floor, stands closed not far from the sink.
Vera pulls out a crowbar from her pack and assists Gar with removing the boards from the door. Oddly, the crowbar seems to be longer than her pack...
Vera enters the room and examines the padlock, attempting to estimate how long ago it was broken... and from which side the door had been forced open.
The padlock, from the amount of dust settled upon it... and from the damage to the door, was broken many years ago (indeed, it may be several years since this door was last opened) - and, almost certainly, from this side of the door.
"I'm gettin' real tired of findin' that we're the last ones in on this...joke," Gar snarls. He lifts his palm toward the door, concentrating, listening for a whisper from the shadows, or from the darker places where even shadows fear to walk.
...from beyond the door, Gar can feel the acrid taste of an evil presence.
The distance between Gar and the door at once seems to expand and contract, drawing him further from his allies and closer toward the sinister presence that lurks beyond. A bead of sweat trickles down his brow.
"Now," he whispers slowly, calmy. "Vera. Mama. Lio. Step back now. Stay behind me..."
The angry, golden glow returns to his blade, casting the room in its firelight . The rotting floorboards creak under the weight of his heavy boots as he steps slowly, one aching foot before the other, toward the door. Freeing one hand from the fearful grip with which he holds the weapon, he holds his breath and reaches across the space, the span of moments engorged to comprise the semblance of an eternity, toward the door's handle.
The brick walls of the kitchen stairs beyond the door are crusted thick with nitre and stained with soot as they open into a cellar. The air here is muggy and damp with large patches of black mould growing on the floor and walls. In the room at the bottom of the stairs, a large lead pipe protrudes at head height from the north wall before turning abruptly into the west wall - a flywheel mounted on its elbow joint appears to be rusted in place. Long strings and sheets of dripping fungus hang down from this pipe nearly obscuring a passageway beyond it.
...Another passage exits to the east - leading to a series of doors.
...and, an abuse to Gar's senses, the stink of evil comes from the north.
"Right."
Seeing the determination in Gar's face, Vera obeys his order and falls back behind him, following him further into the long-abandoned property.
Gar steps carefully down the stairs and takes in the scene before him, trying not to breathe.
"There is...somethin'...livin' down here," he whispers to Vera, pointing toward the curtain of fungus. Or unlivin', he thinks to himself. Well, no sense waitin' t'get ambushed.
With a muttered prayer and a gesture, Gar locates a source of light within the dark, and is instantly suffused with guidance from beyond.
"Ho, now! Git!' Gar pounds his fist against his breastplate, announcing his presence and issuing a challenge to the source of the evil.
Elliomander watches as Gar blesses himself.
hmm... I've been so frugal with my extracts that I've barely used them... if he's certain we're close to encountering something this would seem a good opportunity...
He draws a small glass vial and imbibes its contents before continuing to follow behind and to the side of the inquisitor.
Mama Frill listened carefully and followed Gar's requests, not uttering a sound.
As Gar edges his way cautiously towards the north of the fetid cellar, tendrils of fungus run over his armour... black trails and smears mar his armour. And, so single-minded is he in his pursuit of the evil, that he fails to notice the way in which he is being enveloped - and entangled - by the fungus.
And then, unsettling itself from the pipes, something resembling a 10-foot long snake - yet composed of various hues of plants, vines, mushrooms and other funguses - uncoils itself. Two dark splotches function as eyes - whilst a vine-like tongue flicks in and out of its mouth.
- this 'thing' is not the source of evil within the cellar.
Drawing her blade, Vera moves forward to attack the weird snakelike thing. She is careful to avoid the sheet of goo that's enveloped Gar
Vera's rapier slices into the strangely plant-like creature... pulling it back, tendrils of fungus slip from her blade and the wound partially closes...
...and, fibrous, it is peculiarly resilient to bladed weapons
Snapping at Vera, in vicious retaliation, the creature's jaws open wide... but she ducks out of the way easily.
A slew of expletives bounce off the walls of the grim chamber as Gar battles the entangling fungal vines that seek to draw him in. He twists and turns but is unable to find the leverage needed to free himself from their grasp.
Vera takes a moment to observe the odd creature's movements, and to ponder what, exactly, it might be.
"It's a fungus weird! Its fibrous body is resistant to cuts or punctures, but not so much to crushing attacks!"
Sizing it up, she stabs it again.
Elliomander takes one more step to the side to get a clear line of fire, then he charges a round and fires at the creatures with a pair of thunderous booms.
,
Frill advances and throws her flask of acid at the beast.
RTA into melee
Damage
Direction of miss, if necessary
Whilst Gar struggles against the mycoid tendrils that envelope him and Vera fails to find the weak spot that she previously stabbed, Elliomander has far greater success... the loud 'crack' of his gun is followed by a muffled thud as a fiercely burning fire threatens to envelope the beast...
...Mama Frill however is far less accurate and her bomb bounces off of the low ceiling - and splashes acid across both her intended target and Gar...
...acid-pocked and badly burnt, the creature changes its tactics now. Rearing up and rhythmically emitting a low moan, it belches luminous yellow spores towards the group... and, breathing them in, the spores induce a soporific sensation.
Elliomander coughs and then shakes off the daze that started to creep in with the spores. Acting quickly he fires off another charged round.
,
Ignoring the fact that Gar is trapped within the fungal tendrils below the creature, Elliomander sets the beast alight once more... screeching, the huge thing visibly withers and shrinks from the group - before, with a final harrowing shriek, it dies...
Gar winces in pain as he climbs to his feet, touching the side of his face, now an angry shade of red, with the back of his gauntlet. "S!+*, that's gonna leave a mark. But ya did good, Lio. Nice shootin'."
"Careful, though, this fight ain't over. There's somethin' else lurkin' down here. Somethin' evil..."
Moving past the limply hanging fungus, the group tentatively make their way to the north of the room - where the stench is somewhat overwhelming. It is the smell of rotting fabric, mildew, and decades-old accumulation of fish scales and table waste. Next to the door a spigot extends from the wall above a large wooden tub, empty now of all save old water stains and a few broken pieces of crockery.
Stacked against the north wall and filling half the room is the source of the stench, a huge pile of table linens, aprons, waiter uniforms, chef’s apparel, linen napkins, and old wash rags intermixed with countless stacks of tableware, crockery, cooking utensils, and old grease traps. Old rat droppings lie scattered across the floor and this pile of detritus. It is from this pile, somewhat improbably, that Gar's sensation of evil emanates...
Vera coughs in the spore cloud, and she feels her body getting heavy. She struggles to retain consciousness and her balance as her rapier clangs to the floor. She drops to her knees, then to the floor, drifting into unconsciousness.
But after a few tense moments of her friends trying to rouse her, she comes back around. "That was not a lot of fun... Did we win?"
After being assured that the fungus thing is dead, she joins her friends in the exploration of the room.
”Easy Ms. Marshall.” Gar whispers as he helps the woman to her feet before turning a scrutinizing eye toward the source of evil. He whispers a prayer, then casts his gaze out beyond the confines of his mortal eyes.
Gar uses the tip of his blade to carefully, oh so carefully prod and sort through the pile of refuse.