Ah! Where is it? Anton cries, shoving Corvin back away from him. I'm not prepared if we need silver, I have to get my arrows.
Anton charges back to his room, hurling items left and right until he finds the quiver he is looking for.
Ashan hurriedly moves back down the stairs after the spirit, hoping to catch it.
In a brilliant surge of light and cacophonous whispers of the dead, a phantasmal elven soldier in plate armor with a wickedly curved sword is called into being. The elf's eyes radiate light and distorted faces of other elves blossom and wilt around its form. "Elgar sa vir mana, dirth'ena enasalin! Ma garas mir renan!" Ashan commands, directing the soldier towards the Vilcakis. In a single, fluid motion the spirit slashes downward and cleaves into the malevolent entity as if it were made of flesh and blood.
"Ara ma'athlan vhenas!"
____________
"Vilcakis! You should fear me!"
"This land denies you!"
"Spirit from long ago, eldritch warrior! Follow my voice!"
"I call you home!"
Snatching up the arrows he is looking for, Anton looks over his shoulder and roars;
Can anyone see it?
"No, it's like the Splatterman! Just gone into the floor!"
An involuntary shudder runs along the paladin's spine at mention of the dreaded Ferramin.
Drosil readies himself to thrust at the spirit when it reappears.
Janos looks around for any sign of the spirit. "Corvin, are you ok? Stay with us. Something had hold of you, made you attack us. But we drove it out. We just don't know where it went."
The Ranger watches for any sight of the Vilkacis.
Ashan hurriedly moves back down the stairs after the spirit, hoping to catch it.
** spoiler omitted **
____________
** spoiler omitted **
Drosil readies himself to thrust at the spirit when it reappears.
** spoiler omitted **
The spirit does not in fact reappear.
Re-emerging from his room, Anton rushes back to the others.
Is everyone alright? What was that thing?
He steadies Corvin on his feet and looks intently into the man's eyes, looking for any residual effect of the spirit.
He does not detect as evil.
Dantrian returns on Anton's heels, a vial of holy water in one hand and the bandolier in the other. Not seeing the creature for several breaths, Dantrian then bolts for the stairs. He calls out to Ashan as he runs, "Ashan! Can the spirit claim another? Can it jump from host to host?!"
"I believe it can..." Ashan anxiously scans the ground floor, shaking his head slowly. "We may have driven it off, however. It's aversion to silver is profound. It cannot hide when it possesses another. So if it is still here, we will know."
Where did it come from, is the Warden responsible for this? he asks.
Ah, the longer we are here the more risk these people are in. We need to get to the Stairs and deal with this, everything is surely linked to that.
Duristan says, "Finally you see reason! We must hunt these wolves to extinction."
That's not what I said, Duristan! the paladin says, levelling a finger at the man's chest. It's that kind of recklessness that got those men killed on your last expedition, don't think I've forgotten that. The wolves are not our priority and the last thing I want is to end up in the middle of some lycan civil war.
If you can lead us to the Stairs, all well and good, but we are in charge.
That's not what I said, Duristan! the paladin says, levelling a finger at the man's chest. It's that kind of recklessness that got those men killed on your last expedition, don't think I've forgotten that. The wolves are not our priority and the last thing I want is to end up in the middle of some lycan civil war.
If you can lead us to the Stairs, all well and good, but we are in charge.
"Nobody is the boss of me, Anton! You haven't done anything to protect anyone. Everyone is just dying. I will lead you there, and then I will do what needs to be done."
Your stubbornness is going to get you killed Duristan. the paladin says shaking his head and walking away back into his room to pray and get ready for travel.
Undoubtedly the pressure of the entire situation is getting to him.
Drosil sighs, seeing the confrontation. "Let's get ready to go, then." He turns to Duristan. "Duristan, if you insist on coming with us, you must follow our lead. If you go about trying to kill the wolves, they will slaughter you; there are just too many of them. However, we have found clues that might assist us in finding a peaceful resolution to this; please trust us."
Returning to the group from the lower floor, Dantrian shakes his head catching the tail end of Anton's exchange with Duristan. "I found no sign of the spirit within the building." Regaring the noble, Dantrian offers the man a respectful nod as Anton slams the door to their room shut behind him, "You should know that Anton's frustrations now only stem from his sense of responsibility for what has transpired here since our arrival. It is a foolish notion, but I fear he feels it heavily nonetheless." The alchemist turns then to also prepare, but stops after a few steps and turns back to Duristan, building off of Drosil's wise insight. "Whatever happens after we have gone, this place will need a strong leader to maintain order amongst those who remain. Might that be you, Duristan?"
"I do not know who is responsible, however..." Ashan leaves that sentence hanging and makes his way to the washroom. There, Ashan fills a basin with water and returns to the ground floor hall and Dantrian. "Could you have Mosswick retrieve something from the Warden's room? Hair from his pillow or a brush is preferable. But any personal possession will suffice.If we wait an hour, I can get eyes on our departed Warden."
_________
Anton stomps about in his room, ramming his gear back into his backpack with uncharacteristic carelessness.
Duristan is right, people are dying. Is it in spite of our presence here, or worse; because of it?
By the time he has gathered all his equipment he is fairly quivering with rage and frustration.
Janos reluctantly nods. "Duristan, you're coming with us. Give us half an hour to get our things together and make any last preparations." He eyes Ashan. "In the meantime, find Delgros. He should be in charge of the Lodge with the Warden's absence. I only pray he has the sense to fortify it."
The Ranger returns to his room to collect his pack and bow.
The tense group goes about gathering their belongings to head to the stairs. The remaining handful of staff, Corvin, and Pauncy are herded into the sitting room by Delgros. He fully arms himself and takes up a post there. "I'll do my best to keep us safe until you get back. Please...make sure whatever's going on gets resolved. We're countin' on y'all."
Corvin is swigging abisinthe like its air, and looks terrible. At this rate he will likely drink himself to death in a matter of days.
The staff simply hunddle in a corner, clutching a holy symbol of Pharasma and praying quietly for protection.
Duristan shows up with his pack, bow and silver longsword. "Let's go," he says grimly. Then without waiting for a response he leads the group silently into the forest. The Shudderwood is dark and oppressive. The ancient trees grow so thick overhead that the sky isn't even visible through the boughs. It's like entering some ancient primeval world, which is totally alien and hostile to civilized men and their ways. The only sounds which break the darkness are the occasional snapping or rustling of the forest's unseen denizens fleeing the noisy group's approach.
Venturing deeper into the Shudderwood, the long, spidery branches of the towering pines seem to weave more tightly together. Beneath this thick canopy, daylight fades, and the entire forest seems to blur into shadowy hues.
The group hikes for several hours away from the lodge before Duristan announces, "We're getting close..."
Anton:
Drosil:
B'Yelka:
Dantrian:
Ashan:
Janos:
Anton:
Drosil:
B'Yelka:
Dantrian:
Janos:
Ashan:
Wolves:
Wolves 16.5
Party 14
Everyone except Anton hears the sudden rush of large padded feet through the undergrowth. A moment later two massive Vollensag stalkers burst through the shrubbery surrounding the Six's path. They howl at the top of their lungs and lope forward their greatswords raised over their right shoulders. Over the last two meters, the wolf men leap into the air roaring, as they bring their swords down in wrathful hews onto Anton and B'Yelka.
_________________________
Hit
Hit
Duristan raises his silver sword and shield, and steps to the nearest werewolf. "Die fiend!" he roars, swinging at the lycanthrope.
crit
confirmed
The nobleman's hatred of werewolves and his years of training to kill them serve him well. He executes a perfect underhanded slice into the Vollensag's thigh, slicing its femoral artery wide open. The wound sizzles where the silver eats away at the lycanthrope's flesh, and it roars in pain. Duristan smirks coldly as he snaps back into a high guard.
B'yelka steps away from the beast that hacked his sword into her shoulder, with an outraged hiss she begins to speak, channeling her anger into her words.
Anton’s mind is clouded with dark thoughts of the lives taken on his watch at the Lodge. It is strange that he would think that way, that it was his watch. But ever since he had learned of the Stairs of the Moon he had a deep yearning to see it for himself and if there were any hope of communing with the Song of Spheres....
He barely registers the shouts of alarm as the bushes part and two giant wolf-men come bounding out. So slow is he to react that one is on him before he knows what is happening, it’s blade biting deeply into his shoulder, causing his arm to numb to the finger tips.
Janos tries to shout a warning as the werewolves close, but they were so fast in this terrain, it surprises even him. The wolves are on them before he can shout much of a warning. Seeing one attack B'yelka, he steps up to it and swings his sword in a vicious arc.
Dantrian leaves his remaining 3 holy waters with Delgros. "Should the spirit return. I suspect it will dislike these as strongly as silver."
As they set out on the road, he drinks a pair of his typical elixirs.
---
As the beasts suddenly appear, blades flashing with blood soon after, Dantrian swallows his own curse, but only barely. With what force he can muster, he steps in near to the closest wolf and brings his mace around in two heavy arcs.
HP: 67/67 +13 temp
AC: 15 (11 T / 14 FF)
CMD: 20
F/R/W: +8/+7/+4
Spontaneous Healing used: 0/35hp
Enhanced Potions used: 0/3
Mutate used: 0/2
Hero Points used: 1/3
Prepared Mutagen: Strength (darkvision, scent) [ ]
Prepared 1st Level Extracts (3+1): cure light wounds [ ], shield [ ], open [ ] [ ] [ ]
Prepared 2nd Level Extracts (3+1): ablative barrier [X], alchemical allocation [ ], barkskin [ ], false life [X]
Prepared 3rd Level Extracts (1+1): displacement [ ], thorn body [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
false life (9hrs)
ablative barrier (9hrs): 0/40 hp converted
______________________
When the werewolves burst through the shadows and begin closing in, Ashan braces himself and speaks a sibilant verse. "Elgar sa vir mana, ara ma vhenas!" As the words ring through the forest, a swirling cloud of ephemeral golden light springs to life around Ashan, twisting and contorting like ink underwater. The ectoplasmic cloud occasionally flashes to life, revealing the specter of a translucent elven soldier carrying a lead-edged shield.
_________
Drosil steps forward to engage the nearest werewolf, rapier flashing in the dim light.
Everyone except Anton hears the sudden rush of large padded feet through the undergrowth. A moment later two massive Vollensag stalkers burst through the shrubbery surrounding the Six's path. They howl at the top of their lungs and lope forward their greatswords raised over their right shoulders. Over the last two meters, the wolf men leap into the air roaring, as they bring their swords down in wrathful hews onto Anton and B'Yelka.
Duristan raises his silver sword and shield, and steps to the nearest werewolf. "Die fiend!" he roars, swinging at the lycanthrope.
The nobleman's hatred of werewolves and his years of training to kill them serve him well. He executes a perfect underhanded slice into the Vollensag's thigh, slicing its femoral artery wide open. The wound sizzles where the silver eats away at the lycanthrope's flesh, and it roars in pain. Duristan smirks coldly as he snaps back into a high guard.
B'yelka steps away from the beast that hacked his sword into her shoulder, with an outraged hiss she begins to speak, channeling her anger into her words. "How dare you! The things that you are, hiding in this wood, denied any semblance of civilization! No wonder you fear your betters! You are naught but a disobedient dog! Shall I rub your nose in the excrement you drop?"
Anton’s mind is clouded with dark thoughts of the lives taken on his watch at the Lodge. It is strange that he would think that way, that it was his watch. But ever since he had learned of the Stairs of the Moon he had a deep yearning to see it for himself and if there were any hope of communing with the Song of Spheres....
He barely registers the shouts of alarm as the bushes part and two giant wolf-men come bounding out. So slow is he to react that one is on him before he knows what is happening, it’s blade biting deeply into his shoulder, causing his arm to numb to the finger tips.
Janos tries to shout a warning as the werewolves close, but they were so fast in this terrain, it surprises even him. The wolves are on them before he can shout much of a warning. Seeing one attack B'yelka, he steps up to it and swings his sword in a vicious arc. His sword cuts deep, and then is pushed out as the beast's flesh rejects the steel. The blow was not nearly as effective as it would have been on a normal man.
As the beasts suddenly appear, blades flashing with blood soon after, Dantrian swallows his own curse, but only barely. With what force he can muster, he steps in near to the closest wolf and brings his mace around in two heavy arcs. It appears to have very little effect.
When the werewolves burst through the shadows and begin closing in, Ashan braces himself and speaks a sibilant verse. "Elgar sa vir mana, ara ma vhenas!" As the words ring through the forest, a swirling cloud of ephemeral golden light springs to life around Ashan, twisting and contorting like ink underwater. The ectoplasmic cloud occasionally flashes to life, revealing the specter of a translucent elven soldier carrying a lead-edged shield.
Drosil steps forward to engage the nearest werewolf, rapier flashing in the dim light. His mithril blade leaves a nasty wound.
====================================
One of the wolves flees from B'Yelka with its tail between its legs.
The other wolf snarls at Drosil and slashes and bites at him.The nibmle swashbuckler easily avoids both attacks.
_________________________________
Fail