A cackle, like that of a hyena escapes the half-orc's lips before he gets himself under control again.
The leader begins a more normal laugh, of his own free will, but it is ended abruptly as the fletching of Ibid's arrow appears in his chest. The half-orc grows worried and looks around as though to flee. However, he notes that there is absolutely nowhere to go and instead elects to deal as much damage as he possibly can before succumbing to these dastardly bandits. Grim-faced, he swings his mighty greataxe at Gunari. Ever the strategist, he notes how heavily armored the warpriest is and elects not to go all out in an effort to deal more damage.
... for all the good it does him, as his blow doesn't even make it through Gunari's protective magics to strike his plate mail.
Taking a cue from his master, the hyena laughs and nips at the warpriest.
... and like his master, misses.
The last remaining rank-and-file Aspis Consortium guard drops his crossbow and draws his wickedly curved scimitar. He steps up to flank Gunari with the Hyena and takes his best shot.
The battle-ready Caydenite easily sidesteps the blow, even with two other opponents distracting him.
Surrounded or not, the beset guards are certain to flee after another round of such punishment - if they get the opportunity! If things go as they have been, though, the Pathfinders won't give them such a chance.
The half-orc suffers a stunning slash across the face from Finarin. He almost falls, blood filling his eyes, but digs down to his inner reserves. Thanks to his orcish heritage, he snarls through the pain, still standing and ready to deliver one... final... blow.
His hyena senses this, and lets out a dog-like howl followed by an all too human sounding cackle. It turns away from Gunari and menaces its former pack-leader instead!
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Cyrus moves his invisible form 5 feet to the left to get into proper flanking with the table turning hyena. His invisibility winks out with the surprising slash of his magical blade once again as his fury is unleashed on the half-orc leader.
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Confusion and anger swirls in Cyrus' mind, none of it having to do with the task at hand. In the heat of the battle, his anger filter is dropped, and his heart races along with this thoughts, frustrations boiling over and then hyper focused on the slashes of his deadly weapon. That inner anger spurs him on to swing faster, fast enough to swing back with a second strike.
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Cyrus helps the half-orc to realize that he shouldn't be standing, opening his jugular in the same way he did to the Enforcer's subordinates. The half-orc slips to his knees, gurgling and unable to heft his battleaxe, even with the blood of his ancestors reddening his vision. Too little of it remains in his body. As the former pack leader slips to the ground, the hyena senses its moment to display leadership has arrived. It pounces on the half-orc and tears out what remains of its master's throat. It laps up the blood heartily until Cyrus steps forwards and ends the disgusting creature's life with his death-dealing sickle.
A foul smell, fouler than the regular smell coming from the docks, is emitted by the remaining guard. A brown sludge exits his pant-leg, and he promptly kneels in the pool of blood and his own filth at his feet.
"I give up!" he cries, scared witless of the flashing death ninja and his extremely competent comrades who are clearly intent on killing him, "I will do and give you whatever you want!"
Dealing with the sniveling excuse for an Aspis Consortium guardsman, the Pathfinders move on to the now unguarded warehouse. Opening crates until they are satisfied, the group discovers only pallets of food and barrels of water. Clearly, these are supplies for a very lengthy expedition of some kind.
Gunari finds a locked chest (which Cyrus opens ) containing 10 doses of wolfsbane poison (enough to ruin 10 pallets of food, for example). Ibid also notices a slightly better hidden chest under some loose floorboards, this one unlocked but containing (what Amaranti and Finarin identify as) a potion of barkskin (CL 9th) and an elixir of swimming.
For the time being at least, the Pathfinders have their run of the warehouse and the ships that the warehouse services. A brief look around suggests that at least two of the following courses of action would successfully cripple the Aspis Consortium's operations for long enough for the Pathfinder Society to mount a response:
- Destroy the hulls with brute force and sink the boats. Likely to make a lot of noise, but very effective. Definite evidence of sabotage will be left behind, of course.
- Disable the rudders, anchors and other warehouse / ships' tools subtly. These things will fail at inopportune moments, hopefully when the Aspis ships are long out of harbor. Subtle, and with no immediate evidence of sabotage.
- Poison the supplies with the wolfsbane poison (or other poison if you have any). 10 pallets of food will be very hard to replace. Unlikely to kill anyone as the Aspis Consortium likely does exactly what the Pathfinder Society does with its food supplies on expeditions (ie. cast detect poison before feeding it to everyone) but will cause many delays. No sign of sabotage until they scan the supplies.
- Burn, baby, burn (the Maximoff method): Burn the warehouse, burn the ships! Need an accelerant (lantern oil and/or alchemist's fire) or a big fire-producing spell. This is very effective, but will definitely get your sabotage noticed immediately!
- Players' choice! Come up with your own way. I'll figure out what mechanics (if any) are required.
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"Good work, boy " Amaranti slaps Cyrus on the back. "You kill good! Maybe I wrong. Maybe you and Kaisharga could sneak-kill all guards."
Amaranti looks at the sniveling guard, unsure what to do. He is an enemy, perhaps. Most likely a hired hand. The Garundi and his companions fell upon them, like beasts of night. They didn't even have chance to draw their weapons. And now that poor bastard is there soiling his pants. "What we do with him? Not good to leave witnesses... But pity to kill.."
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Later, when the group is planning the sabotage, Amaranti studies the ships. "Not strong make. Give me axe, and I make big holes. Make lot of noise, too. Maybe Cyrus can break small ship parts more quiet? "
After not quite getting it right the first time, Finarin eventually finishes off the guard (perhaps with a little help from his friends).
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Cyrus breaths deeply, seething as the battle rage slowly subsides. The congratulatory clap on the back from Amaranti snaps him from his reverie, calming him considerably. Moments later, he cannot contain the quick burst of laughter at the Garundi's comments about opening a hole in the boat.
"I can't think of a better way to hinder their operations than by burning it all down. We could start the fire in the warehouse, start a fire or chop a hole on two of the boats, and then take the third one back the way we came. We will be back with Aya before the dawn, and no one will know what is going on here until it is too late. We can even poison the food before we burn it down, just to make sure they can't salvage anything from the fire."
Cyrus shrugs his shoulders, non-committal to any of his offered suggestions. As long as they get the job done, it doesn't matter to him.
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Cyrus' mind begins to drift, picturing what the skyline would look like, with the dark gloom of night highlighted by the Orange glow of a massive fire on the docks. His mental image pans back, focusing on 6 figures, effortlessly sailing one of the massive ships, and eventually turning up the river.
wait... Don't we hate sailing?
The mental image suddenly shifts to a more realistic image of 6 men shouting at each other as the ship lists horribly to port, on an unavoidable collision course with a patch of mangrove trees springing out of an out cropping in the river. A monkey can be seen leaping into the water just before the collision while an elf stands stoically near the wheel, muttering something about how the captain must go down with the ship.
"Cyrus, grab that alchemists fire" someone's comments snap him from this second, horrifying image as he makes to begin burning... Something...
-Posted with Wayfinder
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while an elf stands stoically near the wheel, muttering something about how the captain must go down with the ship.
Listening to the others discuss their plans to scuttle the ships and burn down the warehouse, Finarin says, "More labor. I though that is why we are here ... so I can avoid loading crates. I did not trade that to ... hack away at a ship. Let us burn this .... warehouse down. Let the flames of our success draw the consortium to us .... like a moth to the flames."
The group moves crates of food along with a pile of combustibles over to the most densely packed part of the warehouse. Stepping back, they throw a vial of alchemist's fire over the whole lot. Immediately, a fire starts to spring up. Slowly but surely, it will grow bigger until it will easily be noticed from outside. For now, though, they leave the door open to ensure a good air flow and make their way over to the ships.
Scuttling the enormous riverboats is not an easy task, but between the might of Amaranti, Finarin and Gunari and the various tools they find littered around the warehouse the hulls don't stand a chance. Two riverboats sink into the water by the time the warehouse fire becomes visible. The Pathfinders turn their attention to the third boat when shouts can be heard from the street. Thinking only of escape from the city, Cyrus comes up with the bold plan to sail the ship out of the harbor. Perhaps concerned about the guards rushing in to fight the fire, the Pathfinders agree with the lunatic plan and get on board the ship. At least there won't be any waves on the river...
Ibid scours his mind for what he can recall of the last half dozen or so times the group made it to a ship and manages to instruct the Pathfinders on how get the sails unfurled and the boat unmoored from the pier. Gunari shoves off, jumping on the fore deck just before the gap becomes too wide, Gilligan in tow. Amaranti, the experienced rider of the group, takes the wheel and manages to steer the riverboat out of the harbour and upstream. The wind is light the boat is easy enough to handle. Finarin, with his keen elven vision, climbs to the crows nest and barks out commands to his subordinates below. Cyrus and Miro flit around making sure the ropes are all taut and that nothing gets caught or snagged on the decks, with Ibid checking to ensure that it all "looks right".
With part of Bloodcove ablaze in the background, and nothing but open streams, the companions ride one of the fastest riverboats in the Aspis Consortium's fleet comfortably upstream. After an hour with no pursuit, the companions take it in turns to sleep belowdecks.
By mid-morning, however, the wind has changed. Lacking the skills to properly tack into the breeze, the Pathfinders are forced to abandon their vessel when they beach it on the west bank... sailing backwards.
A mile further upstream, and the group are beginning to believe they might have eluded pursuit. However, as the thick forestation forces the path cross a small tributary of the Vanji River via a stone bridge, they realize that their route has been pre-empted.
On the other side of the bridge stands the Consortium agent they met at the Witchlight, Na’alu, accompanied by a strange-looking humanoid. The Pathfinders, except Ibid, are all reminded of the way the machine soldier in the Red Redoubt moved.
"Oh, it cost me quite a lot of gold to find you," says Na'alu in a conversational tone from the other side of the river, "But I am so pleased to see that it wasn't for naught. You are here, and you have brought with you the intelligence that stinking Pathfinder supply has on the Aspis Consortium. Don't play coy, I know you have it in your possession. Danton the Blind is never wrong when it comes to visions."
Na'alu holds out his hand. “I’ll be taking those documents back now,” he says smugly, “My employer would very much like to know their contents.”
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"Come and get them. We'll .... wait here for you" Finarin responds with a smile on his face.
Uttering arcane words, making the motions of packing snow, and throwing, he extends both hands towards Na'alu.
Fort save: DC 14 or staggered for 1 round.
He draws his scimitar, and channels his magical energy into it.
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As Na'alu speaks, the old man casts a spell to protect himself during the inevitable fight which is moments from kicking off.
With Miro's words inspiring him to great and daring acts, and his courage further bolstered by Finarin's attack, the old man steps five feet to the north and then release an arrow at Na'alu.
"Keep taking," Ibid says as the first arrow leaves his bow, and misses its mark. "Give me time to line up another shot..." he says releasing the second.
"Do not bother with your preparations. You have met your match, Pathfinders! You will only prolong the inevitable if you resist," Na'alu continues to rant as the party readies themselves for battle, his speech isn't slowed by the sound of Miro's inspirational chorus, nor the snowball that passes harmlessly overhead. Ibid's first arrow doesn't even stop his pacing. It is only when the investigator's second arrow lodges in Na'alu's side that he pays attention to the danger on the opposite side of the estuary.
"Well, if you wish to die before I steal the documents for my employers, then so be it! Perhaps this was inevitable anyway. The Aspis Consortium shows no mercy."
Cyrus looses a crossbow bolt at Na'alu, briefly popping into existence before blinking out again.
"You will pay for that!" screams Na'alu, clearly no longer in a mood for conversation. His face darkens as he begins chanting.
"βολίδα!" he cries.
A small, glowing bead flies from his hand to strike the ground just in front of Amaranti. Every pathfinder is enveloped in a sudden and searing blast of fire .
Finarin and Miro both fall to the ground, their scorched bodies twitching in pain - even in unconsciousness. Smoke and the smell of scorched flesh fills the nostrils of those who managed to withstand the blast. The Pathfinders suddenly feel less courageous - and not just because of the damage they just took - but because their halfing companion's song ends abruptly.
The strange man next to Na'alu starts walking towards the Pathfinders, its knees raising unnecessarily high with each step, its stride unnaturally regular. When it closes to within range with its javelin, it targets Amaranti and lets fly.
The projectile glances off Amaranti's broad neck, opening up a vicious gash in his crispy flesh.
Ibid tells the pathfinders that, even though it is now unarmed, the strange-looking construct will likely have a natural attack and they shouldn't try to slip past him without exercising caution.
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"Amaranti! You and the snake get on that asshøle! Spread out! Ibid, ready a shot to prevent that bastard from casting again! Cyrus, get in range to do same. DON"T LET HIM CAST!"
"Sorry, Finarin, we need Miro immediately. I'll get you next." He steps back to Miro and calls upon the blessings of the Drunken Hero, and burns his resist energy to cast cure moderate wounds on the halfling. "Sing, my friend, I fear we're meeting our hardest challenge ever right now!"
'Sweet Barleywine! I hope I don't need that resist energy, or we're done for.'
He then uses a fervor to cast shield of faith upon himself as a swift action.
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Miro feels the healing energy course through him, giving a weak cough as the searing agony of the fireball returns to him. Seeing and hearing the warpriest above him, the Halfling scampers backwards, singing once again to inspire his comrades while trying to get out of the blast radius of another spell.
Miro does indeed breath new life as Gunari's healing magic fills him. The charred but plucky halfling continues to be an inspiration to all.
Gunari continues to buff himself, stoic in the face of flaming death. Poor Finarin continues to twitch as the burns he has suffered continue to smolder beneath the surface of his cracked and blackened skin.
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A wave of heat and searing pain washes over Ibid, weakening his knees and causing the old man to nearly collapse lifeless to the charred patch of soil at his feet. For the briefest instant, an ancient image flashes before his eyes... a great column of fire piercing a screen of dark clouds and colliding with a rolling sea, churning and expelling great gouts of steam... Yet, in the blink of an eye, as the long-healed scar just beneath his shirt line is beginning to tingle at the recollection, the old man's consciousness is brought back to the here and now, and he is once again standing before the bridge and looking upon his fallen friends.
Hearing the call of Gunari over the panicked shrieks of pain passing through his own lips, Ibid regains his composer enough to run toward the riverbank. The old man passes over his comrades, and has to force himself to keep moving and not help them.
At the shore, Ibid draws back on his bow, causing the charred, crisp skin to crack and split painfully as his arm reaches its full extension, but the old man does not fire. He waits, watching Na'alu down the length of the arrow, its tip quivering and oscillating as the old man tries to hold his breath and steady himself...
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Cyrus bites his tongue as the flames sear his clothes, desperately not wanting to give his invisible position away. A lump rises in his throat as he sees two of his friends go down in the flames, and a fiery anger rises up like he has never felt before. It takes all of his discipline to not fly into a rage like the barbarians of the north.
He moves quickly the rest of the way across the bridge to get near the vile man, and pops out of nowhere with a primal scream.
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With that Cyrus immediately focuses again, vanishing once again from sight.
Cyrus appears out of thin air once more and makes to strike Na'alu with his sickle, but at the last minute some unseen magical force turns it aside .
Ibid lines up a shot, ready to fire the moment Na'alu begins casting a spell.
Everyone waits for the big Garundi and his snake to wake up...
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The benefit of a serpentine body and low profile is that when it's time duck and cover, Kaisharga is already hugging the ground. So when the fires roar above it, the eidolon just keeps it's head down, and escapes the ordeal unscathed.
Kaisharga lifts it's head and sees the source of all this trouble on the other side of the river. Knowing his master's weak mortal flesh will not survive another such assault, the eidolon charges the spellcaster. Slithering along the railing, Kaisharga easily reaches a position strike the enemy.
The strange creature with familiar smell approaches, and Kaisharga moves to defend his master.
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Burned and hurt, Amaranti's resolve falters for a moment. But once Miro's song fills the air again, he stands firm yet again, prepared to fight to the end. "You and your Ass-piss friends can go to hell!" the Garundi hisses, spitting.
The Garundi realizes the most immediate threat is beyond his reach, so he just hopes his friends can eliminate the spellcaster. The summoner casts a spell of Shield on himself, and prepares to defend his friends from the machine soldier if it approaches.
Kaisharga slithers up to the strange man. From this distance, the eidolon can see that something is plainly not right with the thing (as in, it is most certainly not human). As it turns to face Kaisharga, it turns in a precise arc from its hips inside its own skin. When it lifts its legs at the knees rapidly in a stomping motion to finish the pivot, the rest of its skin mostly catches up and ends up in roughly the right spot on its body.
Kaisharga buries its fangs deep in the slightly distended skin. It tastes odd, like it has been washed in an alchemical brew. Hard, metallic bones beneath give way to the powerful eidolon's bite, but Kaisharga's teeth almost suffer as much damage as this thing does.
Luckily for the companions, the odd human-like thing is not very sure-footed and tumbles over in a clanking, clanging crash to the ground, much louder than you would expect for something made of flesh. Some of its skin peels off in Kaisharga's mouth (who spits the foul tasting substance out immediately).
"Ha!" laughs Na'alu in response to Gunari's taunt, "Yes, I'm sure my Aspis friends will go to hell, but that is another story. One you won't be around to hear. I am so disappointed. I knew I would win, but you seem to be putting up even less of a fight than I'd hoped."
Not caring that Ibid will fire as soon as he begins casting, Na'alu steps back from where he last saw the ninja and chants the words to his next spell, aiming for the cleric who seems to be bringing defeated enemies back into the fight, "Tut tut tut!" he says to Gunari like a mother scolding her favorite child, "It simply won't do for you to bring everyone back. Once I down an enemy, they need stay that way."
Ibid's arrow flies true, and the man thanks the gods that he took the time to study his target with his keen investigatory skills before letting fly.
Na'alu grimaces in pain and drops to one knee as the third arrow to strike his body wedges between his ribs. His outstretched hand falls to the ground and a tiny spark of flame scorches his fingernail as his spell is ruined. The transmuter looks furtively back towards Bloodcove, clearly seeking an escape route.
The robot places both feet on the ground, sits bolt upright and then extends itself into a standing position.
Kaisharga tries to capitalize on the construct's awkward movements while it stands up, but cannot seem to bring itself to take another bite out of that horrid flesh.
Kaisharga reels from the incredibly hard fist that batters its body.
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"Good shoot, Ibid! Best not let it cast spells!"
Amaranti senses how Kaisharga starts moving to flank, and the summoner moves in unison. Once the Garundi is on lance's reach, the eidolon attacks with greater fury than ever. "Good worm! I proud!" he says, astonished, and tries to keep up with his companion.
Amaranti moves in to flank the strange construct while Kaisharga sneaks around behind it.
Despite flailing with its fists, the creature cannot connect in time. Kaisharga gets into position with its master and proceeds to rip the creature down to the ground, this time tearing off all of the creature's skin like a blanket from a cot. Revealed beneath are a maze of colored cords, pipes, pumping rods and whirring gears. While not as strongly armored or powerful as the machine soldier the companions fought before, the parallels are unmistakable. Even the gunsmiths of Alkenstar are centuries (probably millennia) away from being able to make technology even close to being this advanced.
Amaranti's lance strikes the thing through one of its pipes and an oily brown liquid seeps out onto the ground beneath it.
"Alert! Reserves breached!" it cries involuntarily in a close facsimile of a human voice.
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The old man again draws another arrow from his quiver and raises the longbow with shaking arms. As the bowstring stretches and whines, audibly stressed at its final extension, Ibid again holds his shot.
Keep it together, old man, he thinks to himself, noticing the arrowhead begin to shudder due to a tremor manifesting on his own hand, struggling to hold the string taut. ... don't let the others down...
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A fire burns within the young ninja, whether or not this vile man is the cause of it or merely the unlucky focal point for its unleashed fury is not something Cyrus is worried about sorting out at this point. His footwork is perfect, mind and body working seamlessly together despite all of his exposed skin being currently charred and bloodied. A step, a skip and a slide puts him in perfect position to reach for the soft, vulnerable area of the caster as the cowardly man looks to run away.
"You will be judged!" Cyrus screams again as he lashes out, appearing from thin air once more.
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With a raging fury, he reaches deep within, exhausting his inner reserves to get one more swing in before the man can try to run away.
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This time he does not vanish back into nothingness, he hangs over the man, the deep breaths of physical exertion lifting his shoulders, and a fiery malice in his eyes.
"Pray you are already dead, and my friends are not, because if it is the other way around you will beg me for death's embrace a before I am through with you."