Raun frowns at the tangle, hefting her hammer a few times as she considers the request. After a few quiet moment she simply shrugs and steps forward, raising the earthbreaker to bring it down upon a random section of roots.
Safia's eyes grow large the moment the voice reaches through to her, then nods. "We need to be careful with the flask. The thing inside isn't quite friendly, she says it belonged to the necromancer." She. Was the Grey a she? Or was it a spirit? She decides to try and whisper back, in her head, <<Are you a spirit, voice?>>
As Grit and Safia examine the ebony urn, Raun takes up her hammer and begins to pound again on the stony roots in the room next door. The repetitive noise only lasts a minute, however, before it is interrupted by a resounding 'crack.'
Checking her hammer, Raun sees with relief that the weapon is undamaged. But a plate-sized chunk of the calcified root has been knocked free, revealing a fist-sized hole.
Something stirs in the hollow beyond. A second later, a gnarled centipede about the length of Raun's hand crawls weakly from the hole. It totters on the edge before rolling into a ball and falling to the ground at the half-giant's feet. As Raun leans down to peer at it, the multi-legged insect shudders and seems to contract before exploding in a mass of carapace and limbs, growing rapidly into the battered, four-armed form of a thri-kreen.
The creature raises its head weakly, one multi-faceted eye rolling to examine the half-giant.
"I hope ... your waterskin ... is as big ... as that hammer," the thri-kreen gasps, mandibles twitching as it lays back in the dust and sand.
At the sound of the loud crack, Nnn'tkklik'l will investigate.
Grit goes with Nnn. When he sees the creature emerge he stays Raun's hand in case she in anxious and tempted to attack it.
Raun jumps back as the centipede emerges, raising her hammer as it suddenly starts to grow. When she notices that it is also changing shape it lowers again and she squints as it takes on the form of the kreen, or rather a different kreen. "You Grit and Nnn's friend? Dwudla?" she asks, waiting for a reply before lowering her hammer completely, letting the head rest on the ground as she pulls out a suitably large waterskin, cautiously offering it to the bugman.
”What is left of ‘Dwudla,’ yes,” the thri-kreen says, accepting the waterskin gratefully. The druid takes a long swallow, then fishes in a leather satchel, removing a handful of strangely plump, crimson berries. Eating them swiftly, the thri-kreen closes its eyes for a long moment as the cracks in its carapace rapidly close.
”That is better. Many thanks, my large friend. Death is a territory I am not yet ready to explore. You have done me great service,” Durwadala says before spying Grit and Nnn'tkklik'l. “And you show good taste in clutch-mates.”
Rising slowly but steadily, the druid raises its four arms in greeting.
”The students rescue the master and are students no longer. I wish there was time to celebrate your hunt, but the test is not over. If you have made it this far you know the danger that remains. Perhaps together we can avoid the mistakes I made during my first attempt to stalk this prey. I will explain, but let us retreat a moment to the ancients’ library, where the air is fresher.
Once inside the warded library, the thri-kreen breathes deeply of the enchanted air before continuing.
”Haste was my downfall in coming here. I came in a rush when Craddock called, passing through the tari’s lair in disguise. I revealed myself to their chief but ignored his warning, thinking I could defeat the elves and the defiler’s tree on my own. I was wrong. The tree has evolved since its reawakening. I faced a mental assault as well as the blades of its elven thralls. I was forced to retreat but was still on the stairs when the tree counter-attacked. Draining the life from half its clutch, the tree launched a mass of crushing roots, enveloping me. I was able to avoid a crushing death by taking the form of a desert centipede. Meditating to conserve air – no easy feat with a hundred twitching legs – I waited for death or salvation to come.”
”Now that you are here, I must ask another boon. I believe I can distract the defiler’s root and prevent it from using its life-draining magic, but I will need you to fight through its thralls and cut down the tainted tree. The elves lack independence but retain their skill and their chieftain is a defiler. It may mean our deaths, but I see no other way. Will your clutch join in the hunt?”
Safia grinned from ear to ear upon hearing the spirit proclaim itself her mother. Some part of her knew it was unlikely as all spirits lost their identity in the Grey but she wanted it so much it did not matter.
When the others returned with the rescued mentor of Nnn and Grit the stupid grin still adorned her face. It was the old Kreen's plea for help that roused her from her stupor, "The Grey does not want use yet, we will succeed."" She wasn't so sure about the old Kreen, or her friends for that matter, but she had a goal her and it was big, bigger than a silly death-tree.
Grit moves to physically embrace his mentor a the sight of him, but then recalls how physical contact of the sort was not the way of the Kreen and tried to embrace him through the mind link. <Master!> he thinks at Dwudla awkwardly, helping him to move the the relative sanctity of the library and offering to heal him more fully.
At Dwudla's request he responds with obedience Of course Dwudla. I will do my best to execute the plan. I believe my clutch will help us as well for the cause is nobel.
Raun looks to the others as they arrive, about to point out the obvious when the druid speaks up himself. She follows them back to the book room this time, having run out of smash-able tree anyway. All that effort for the one little chip wasn't worth it.
She follows Durwadala's explanation as best she can, and stands frowning down at him in consideration. She had come here to rescue the kreen druid so that he could cleanse the well for the dwarves, so that they would give her a job, and a house she hoped... a proper sized one, with a roof. Now he wanted them to kill more of the elves? She didn't mind killing the elves, they were bad, but she hadn't come here for them... It would help the Tari though, who had been nice and given them food and water... She didn't like the 'may mean our deaths' bit however.
"We help you kill defiler plant-thing, then you come back with us and help dwarves?" she asks. Once she gets an agreement to that then she will agree herself, hefting her hammer. "We go through where plant was blocking, yes?"
"Yes, Master Durwadala. I will of course assist in this undertaking, but I feel we must also see to the dwarves of Kled. Without us, they will die, but I understand that without ending this defiler, everyone might die. Nnn'tkklik'l says, handing Durwadala's chatka back.
"Many lives will depend on our success," the druid replies. "It is important we act in concert - no one can hunt alone if we are to survive."
The kreen pulls piece of charcoal from one of its many belt pouches and begins sketching a crude map on the flagstone floor of the library.
"The door to the east of where I was captured leads to a large, natural grotto. The tree's roots emerge from the floor in many places, although many of these growths are nearly dead - the tree must expend a fair amount of energy to animate them."
"The roots may make it vulnerable, however. The tree survives on the life force of living beings, but only if it is taken. Life force freely given - such as through druid magic - is painful to it. I believe I can distract the tree by channeling healing spells into one of the root wads, allowing the rest of your clutch to fight the tree's thralls and advance toward the tree itself. I will try to shield you from its psionic attacks, as well, although my skill in that area is limited."
"You will need to fight through the elves and protect me - I will have my claws full with the tree. The elven chieftain, particularly, is a threat. Although the tree is immune to his defiling, it will allow him to power his foul spells with the life force of those the tree has enslaved."
The thri-kreen pauses, waiting for the group to ask any questions.
Durwadala, do we need to strike immediately, or can we rest and recover from wounds and injury?
Raun glowers at mention of Psionic attacks, able to pick that out of the conversation if nothing else as she stares at the map. She scratches her head, looking at Durwadala as he mentions the elf chieftain. "Thought we killed chieftain for rat-people upstairs." she observes, apparently not having caught on that the Gith and the elves enslaved by the tree are different groups. "Would smashing tree roots hurt tree?"
"Not these out here," Durwadala says, gesturing toward the roots he has drawn on the perimeter of the grotto. "You'll need to attack the main growth of the tree to do any real damage.
"I stand ready. Master Durwadala, I can add you to our mind-clutch. I can try to help as well, but I am still learning. I managed to keep these ones alive." he says, adding a few clicks that mark the statement as a veiled yet modest boast while subtly nodding his head at the half-giant.
Gorkhan nods. "This just gets better and better...," he says wryly. All right... I guess we have a job to do."
Safia for one seems eager, "The tree is an abomination. It takes away those destined for the Grey, keeps them from the beyond. It must be removed." A fire burned in her eyes and for a moment she seemed a different woman than the one that spent countless hours in in some sort of absent state. The hint of insanity was the same though.
She hefted up the blade of her scythe, then suddenly stopped, "If we kill it, will that free the souls it trapped?" The question was to no one in particular though she hoped for an answer, no matter the source.
"If their spirits have not been consumed we will release them," Durwadala says, rising and moving toward the door. "If you wish to make any preparations, you should make them now. "
When we get close, Nnn'tkklik'l will form an ectoplasmic carapace to buffer the vitality of his collective.
Grit does have some spells to cast.
He casts Frostbite (adds a d6+4 cold damage and fatigue to 4 attacks) and Barkskin (+2 AC) on his Togone, and Longstrider on himself (speed 30').
He then activates Prescience, Offensive right before going into the chamber.
Preparations made, Raun rips open the eastern door in the root-clogged room to reveal a dark passage carved walled in smoke-blackened sandstone. Phosphorescent fungus has been smeared on the walls in places but you draw forth Craddock's glowing rocks to light your way.
The passage turns to the south after the first dozen paces. After a few muttered spells you continue your cautious advance after the turn, Raun leading the way. The far end of the hall is still shrouded in darkness when the twang of bow fire echoes down the hall and a pair of arrows arc out of the blackness. One sinks into Raun's thigh, but the other ricochets off the plated belt the half-giant took from the tomb on the upper level.
Grit and his Tigone move past Raun and down the hall. He should soon spot the shooters with his dark vision.
As Raun bent down to remove the arrow from her thigh, Grit and his tigone slipped past the momentarily distracted half-giant, hugging the walls as they rushed down the hall. Seconds later, Grit's darkvision revealed a pair of elves drawing back their bow strings for a second volley. With whispered command to the tigone, the mul ducked into a darkened doorway on his left.
Immediately, a bowstring twanged but the shot was far off mark, crashing into the doorway over Grit's head. To the mul's left, another elf darted from the shadows to slash at the tigone, his long bone sword carving through the magical protections layered on the beast but failing to draw blood.
Drawing a second blade, the elven swordsman pressed his attack against the tigone, landing another blow that tore through Nnn'tkklik'l's psionic shield. The other elf fires a rapid volley at the mul, hitting once, before dropping his bow and drawing a sword.
Up close, Grit could see that the tribesmen appeared emaciated even for elves. Their tattered scale armor hung loose on their frames, but their limbs were covered in black, vine-like growths growths. The tendrils grew out of the bowman's neck and into the corner of one eye, wrapping that side of his face in a mask of sorts.
Out in the hall, the two elven archers fire a pair of rapid volleys at Raun. Two of the arrows land true, sinking into the half-giant's flesh and stoking her simmering rage.
<<Be careful of them. They are linked, as we are, and will fight as a clutch>> Durwadala says through the collective. Chattering the words to a spell, he causes his chatka to burst into light, then flings it down the hall, illuminating the elves gathered there in bright light.
Both Grit and his tigone attack the semi-elf they can reach, calling out through their mind what they see and how they are under attack. Grit steps up to the right side of the tigone which will provide some cover for it from the shooter.
Raun drops the first arrow, glaring as another two follow it. She leaves them in place this time, ignoring the pain as they pierce Nnn's psionic protection. With the two archers lit up like the noon-day sun Raun grips her hammer with both hand and lumbers into motion, slowing only if necessary wshould the others get in her way, but otherwise crashing into the two with as much force as she can muster.
The kreen will try to pull an elf into the collective (one of the archers). DC 17 will negates. He will also move up to 40ft to keep his relative distance from Raun.
Once the giant moves forward to the end of the corridor, Gorkhan follows charging past the giant against the foe she hadn't attacked.
Gorkhan swings at the elf again.
Faced with archers, Safia is relatively quick to start closing the distance. Half way along the hallway she stops for a moment only to start a chant. Soon after a swirling, shifting field of energy forms around her.
Once that is done she moves closer still, her form shifting as she goes. By the time she stops behind Raun she resembles the scythe wielding statue from above, if that had beeen a living, breathing humanoid.
Grit is across the small room in the time it takes to draw breath. His ancient steel scimitar arcs out, perfectly flat, and the elf tribesman's head flies free, trailing cancerous black roots and streamers of blood. His tigone, meanwhile, claws a bloody trail in the other elf's leg, but the swordsman evades the beast's snapping jaws. The elf visibly sags as the frostbite spell Grit cast on the beast takes effect. The elf strikes again at the tigone with paired longswords, but its blows are clumsy and neither connects.
The mul's comrades in the hall are less successful. Barreling down the hall roaring in rage, Raun brings her blood-stained hammer down, but the elf she had targeted leaps to the side, evading the blow. Rolling past the half-giant, Gorkhan harries the other elf with his bone blade, but the elf turns aside each strike with the shaft of his bow.
Discarding their bows, both of the archers in the hallway draw bone swords and strike back, targeting Gorkhan, who manages to parry one blow but grunts as the other tears into Nnn'tkklik'l's psionic shield.
Safia moves up behind Raun, scythe at the ready, as Nnn'tkklik'l draws one of the root-bound elves into the collective.
The tigone full attacks again
Grit moves to his Tigone's side and attacks the fatigued elf.
Nnn'tkklik'l will draw life from the elf he pulled into the collective and give that energy to Raun.
Raun's efforts grow even more clumsy as Gorkhan darts in front of her, and she is forced to flail over his head at the elves.
Gorkhan lashes out with his blade once again investing psionic power into the swing.
The eyes of the root-bound elves are covered by a dark film, but their reflexes haven't been dulled. The one to the east twists away from Raun's hammer before being enveloped in the cloud of anti-psionic energy that drains it of inner strength even as Nnn'tkklik'l saps its life force to heal the half-giant. Ducking under Raun's reach, the elf darts to the north to strike at the half-giant, carving a shallow wound in her side.
Gorkhan strikes the other elf, his bone blade tearing through paper-thin flesh and nearly forcing the infested tribesman to his knees. The elf remains standing, however, and lashes out at Gorkhan with its own blade, cutting deep. The elf then shifts to the east to block the doorway.
Durwadala hurries into the east room as Grit and his tigone cut down the remaining elf there. The thri-kreen druid peers through the crack of the doorway into the grotto.
<<More out there, waiting in ambush>> he thinks at the group before drawing another chatka.
Grit casts Cure Light Wounds onto his togone and tells the animal to guard Durwadala for the moment.
Gorkhan grimaces in pain as the last of the health buffer given by the thri-kreen was pierced and the elf's blade struck deep. He then steps in and lashes out with his own bone blade keeping the psychic energy flowing to better strike these hard-to-hit foes.
Raun's clumsy flailing continues to crack, and crumble the walls.