Antal points at the creature and clouds its mind a bit, while Randall prepares to stab it if it tries to cast a spell.
The monster shakes off the blindness but twitches slightly at the curse. Producing a large mace in one hand, it lunges forward to bite the evil halfling who zapped it.
Jametor points a finger at the spider again.
Jametor's missiles slam into the creature, causing it to hiss angrily at the welts rising on its skin.
Njord clings to the wall with one claw and attacks with the other.
Njord's claw connects, spilling ichor from the wound it leaves in the creature's side.
Asht'el peeks out from behind the wall and points a finger at the creature, sending a bright beam of fire at it, but his aim if off.
Randall will shift off of Njord and up the wall before proceeding along around the dome, edging out of the creature's reach, working to get around behind it.
Randall hops off Njord's back and hops through the air, easily catching hold of the opposite wall and clambering up it, spider-like, to appear behind his prey. His sword slashes deeply into the creature's mid-section, eliciting a cry of rage and pain from the spider-like monster.
Fíriel reaches out to slap the creature in an attempt to drain its strength.
Antal leans off Njord's back and tries to touch the thing with a cold hand, but his arm isn't quite long enough to reach the creature.
The monster growls in anger and retaliates against its harassers.
Asht'el fires another beam of fire at the creature, and misses once again.
Antal's hand glows angry red, the mace in the monster's grip turned the same heated red, the metal radiating palpable heat.
Jametor points his finger at the spider-man and with a command word a ray of frost shoots from his finger.
Randall tries for another good strike.
Antal's magic fizzles harmlessly, its auras playing across the creature and its mace like the wind across a sandy beach. Jametor manages to strike it with his frost, though the damage is minimal, and Randall's sword-strike skitters off the creature's hard chitin.
With two of his small passengers in tow still, Were-Njord hastily clambers down the wall. He growls before braving the caustic chemicals and then powers back up the other side to lunge for the spidertaur.
Fíriel tries her spell again.
The monster shakes off the silly halfling's spell with a growl. Lunging forward, it swings its mace angrily at its tormentors and follows up with a snap of its jaws that misses Randall by a gnomelength.
Frustrated by his missed shots, his hair flying about in the noxious breeze, Asht'el goes for the surer thing, firing four glowing missiles of force at the monstrous man-spider.
Antal coughs but continues on, knowing that now is the time to try and take this creature down. His hand reaches out, this time cloaked in dark, necrotic energy as he tries to take this creature down a peg or two.
Jametor fires another ray of frost at the spider.
Asht'el's missiles scorch the spider-thing and send it flying off the wall, dead.
After spidertaur is searched, Were-Njord picks up the halflings and resumes heading toward the tower's entrance.
Beneath the dome, a roaring fire blazes in the center of a cluttered chamber. A trio of kettles bubble furiously above the fire, with a column of green smoke rising up to a hole in the ceiling. Beyond, a pair of tall glass tanks sits against the far wall, one green and the other oily black. Tools and laboratory equipment are scattered about the room on tables or hung from hooks on the wall. There is an overpowering stench in the air, blending disgustingly with the smell of burning chemicals.
A half-dozen reptilian creatures that the group recognizes as troglodytes stand throughout the room, as if waiting. Just as Njord rounds the corner to enter the arch, there comes a loud command from the back of the room: "Ilmash!"
A veritable flurry of flasks come flying at the group, even as the drow female in the back of the room begins crooning softly in another language.
One of the flasks misses badly, scorching one of the troglodytes that can't scramble out of the way fast enough, and another falls a bit short of its intended target but still sprays a corrosive substance over the leading party members. The other flasks strike their marks with varying degrees of accuracy and varying effects.
Asht'el jumps about somewhat wildly as the deadly flasks crash all around the party, somehow managing to avoid being touched by them at all. Seeing how many foes they have yet to face, he rolls his eyes for a moment, then begins casting, knowing his companions will need to move quickly to win this fight.
Once his spell is cast, he reaches a hand back to his backpack, which magically delivers his crossbow right where he needs it.
Jametor points his finger at the nearest Troglodyte and a ray of fire shoots from it.
He then fires another ray right after the first.
"There's someone in the back of the room speaking Draconic and singing the weirdest lullaby I've ever heard. My guess is that is the source of the flasks and the oddities we've faced. Njord, if you could drag us a big more inside so we can stop levitating, if needed, that would be appreciated."
Antal grimaces, feeling the severe burn of the acid across his skin. His eyes close for a moment, and when he opens them again, those same eyes are bright and glistening like gems. His hair glistens and shines like silver now and his chuckle is almost like celestial music. A slight swirl of color goes over his skin, as he stretches.
"Now the real battle begins."
Njord hastily descends down the wall and onto ground level. With his train relatively safe, the furry ulfen lunges at the nearest trog.
Jametor's rays burn his target to cinders, even as Njord tears into another with his sharp teeth. His target does not fall, but it clutches the gaping wound in its chest as if it's never seen blood before.
Fíriel climbs down from Njord's back and casts a spell at the troglodyte across the room.
Randall begins coughing from the horrible stench, but valiantly hops off Njord's back, moving behind the nearest troglodyte and drawing his sword.
The troglodytes bark loudly and begin to close in on the party with claws and teeth.
The last troglodyte steps forward and heaves on one of the giant kettles, spilling boiling acid all over Njord and Antal!
The shimmering drow woman in the back of the room pauses long enough in her singing to point at the sick-looking halfling and speak a word of command. Grinning from ear to ear, the woman behind the table takes up the song where she left off.
Randall finds his mind becoming cloudy as he slips into a puzzled haze.