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Bacarov presses his hand to his throat, feeling the pounding of his pulse and giving his jaw a scratch. Is that only 3 days of stubble? It is an odd distraction, but one that reminds the Inspector that time always slows during a case. It creeps by just enough to show you how much of it is slipping thru your fingers.
He withdraws both the Restoration and Healing wands and approaches Warshawski, "We'll need you in top health, Inspector..."
He studies her for a brief moment, recognizing the changes in her just as much as admitting the changes in him. There are no words but there is a common is a common understanding, There will need to be a long conversation should we survive...
"Let's get moving." He points to Voyla, Vinnie and Nikklos. "Take point and scout ahead. Get on their perimeter, try a distraction if you can. I'll trust you to be creative." To the rest, "We move in right behind them so we're not too far apart, sight on Kreigler and wring his neck the first chance we get. Hit fast, hit hard. Keep them off balance." He sighs, the surge of adrenaline in the cold pit of his stomach growing. He'd been on his fair share of hostile entries. "If the plan falls apart, watch your backs, stay together and remember the objectives. Kill Kreigler, prevent the sacrifice on the altar."
Bacarov signals for them to move out.
30ft only | Darkvision
I saw the look in Bacarov's eyes. This mission had changed us both. We'd been exposed to things we would never have found in the city. It was disturbing but we'd deal with it.
When this was over.
I walked beside him as we moved forward. I saw him trying to keep low and stealthy. That wouldn't do us any good. A group is only as quiet as their quietest member, after all.
"What about a distraction?" I asked, pitching my voice low.
"Even rabid cultists might break from their routine if they realized their house was on fire."
"S@~# Warshawski, I think exploding stones and fey ghosts should be good enough to attract some attention. Can you do that again?"
As we moved away from the standing stones I felt the presence of the elven ghosts fading away.
"No. Away from their place of power, even corrupt, the spirits won't have as much strength. This time I'm afraid we'll probably be on our own."
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"The mayor's house is ablaze by now. If that doesn't bring some of them out, not sure what will.". He does a mental check of the Ravenmoor area. "Besides, we're approaching from the east. That'd mean we have to skirt the tall grass and the ritual mound to get to the houses. Even the Lupescu place. Too much time." But his mind lingers long on the sight of the town on fire. Cleansed once and for all.
All the times I had to turn a blind eye to the Rook. All the times we've been unable to truly pacify an evil...
As the group finalizes their plans for what may prove to be their final assault on Mayor Kriegler, they notice a strange phenomena happening in the night sky.
The moon hangs overhead like a peering eye, its stare unnerving. Clouds have begun to pull in from every horizon and now twist themselves around the moon, focusing the light of the heavenly body like a lens. In the thick fields ahead, atop the slight rise in the earth, a light goes up- as if a bonfire has been lit. The balmy atmosphere and lingering heat of the day seem to clear almost immediately, leaving the air curiously still.
Voyla, detecting magic all the way, sneaks ahead exploring the fields directly ahead.
Niklos seeks to be at the forefront of the group with his ursine companion, relying on Duroj's nose over his own eyes...
Stealth Synergy:
Dramin looks up at the sky, he notices the strangeness and does a quick think in his memory. Perhaps something he had seen during his time here would have buried itself deep into his brain, as many things have done.
Regardless, he pulls out a scroll of Mage Armor and mutters some words quickly to protect himself.
Useless if I'm dead.
He thinks on the morbid statement and pulls out another set, these ones being Shield and Gravity Bow. If something is to happen, I can draw my weapons far faster than I can deal with parchment.
"I am ready whenever you are. If you require anything from me before we head on out, now would be the time."
Without waiting on people to respond he speaks more arcane and points at his compatriots.
"Mestari" The whisper only barely reaching audible levels, but there nonetheless.
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Bacarov makes the suggestion along the magic connection created by Dramin's spell, grim determination in his voice. "We burn the fields from the east side. Force them put of the altar area." He glances Warshawski's way. He knows she won't like it. Even he's never been one for the hammer when a scalpel would accomplish the job just as well. But things are different now. The stakes so high that a purge is nigh necessary. "Trees grow back, Inspector. Sometimes to return to balance, a clean slate must be provided. Ask your elves, their earthbound kin know time is the healer of all things. They've the patience to see this place back to its glory."
As for the people, they've lived on thru blithe ignorance of the goings on in Ravenmoor. They can do the same elsewhere. Silent objection doesn't stop a child from getting butchered outside your home. It just removes their voice. He keep she last to himself.
"There is only one path to the altar, the reeds and webbing prevent other approaches. We either burn our own, or we go straight up the path and become easy prey."
Hissing back through the magic arcane "You set fire to this field and it could take it all... no control, no way to restrain... you would unleash the flacără vie and there is no choosing who it burns."
"We do NOT." I hissed to Bacarov. "Ignoring what the elves thing, and I promise you they wouldn't like it, one shift of the wind and we find ourselves surrounded by fire and dead. You don't kill someone by dousing yourself in acid and hugging them, Bacarov. A forest fire could spread towards Magnimar and every settlement and who knows how many traders, travelers, and caravans between here and there. It isn't just this town and ourselves we put in jeopardy. Trees might grow back. The thousands of animals and hundreds of people you might accidentally kill do NOT."
Dramin hears the whispers and decides he may have an idea.
"What if they only believe there to be a fire?"
He eyes the smoke arrows in his quiver. "If you give me some time I can produce some more of these arrows, we fire a ton of volleys into a dummy area and the smoke should continue rising out. At the very least they may have to investigate it." He knows time isn't a luxury they have.
"The question is how much time do we have, and what is the ritual. If we can get a little closer..."
He shrugs, knowing no one will see him and stares back at the sky.
What is the sky doing? There must be a portent in there somewhere.
He thinks back on the statement he just made.
Dummies...
"I have another plan, one I've used once in the woods. We set up a small fire in a clearing near the target and torch only that. It shouldn't spread if we douse the entire area with water."
Voyla tries to press on his companions.
"We don't have time, we need to hurry. And innocent is about to be sacrificed. If you need a distraction, I can appear from a different direction, fill them with arrows, and when they turn towards me you charge them from another direction. But please, hurry!"
You don't know of any natural phenomena that could cause such a thing, but it is not too much of a stretch to believe that the cultists may have somehow attracted some sort of divine attention to their ceremony. Whether or not it is Ghlaunder or merely some aspect of his power is unknown to you, but it does not bode well.
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"Dramin has a good thought...less drastic too." Bacarov pinches the corners of his eyes with thumb and forefinger, attempting to eliminate the image of a burning Ravenmoor from his mind. [snaller]"Two of them in fact; We set the prop fire and use the smoke arrows he has now to our advantage. The combination can complete the illusion of a larger fire. The distraction will hopefully peel away a few of them, get the odds more in our favor."[/smaller]
"I've a smokestick to contribute. Perhaps to cover our approach. Vinnie, Voyla, perhaps you two can set the fire and volley what smoke arrows we have, you're the quietest and fastest among us it would seem " He looks around at the others. "Set the diatraction, see who falls for it, them we approach as a unit. Kill Kreigler, stop the sacrifice."
I never expected Dramin to be the one to talk sense, but his plan had the best chance of success. We needed to push the odds more toward our favor but not at the cost of our souls.
"Good man." I said, patting Bacarov's shoulder. "Once we get inside, open a hole to wherever they're keeping her so someone can snatch and guard. She's the ball. They can't complete the play without her."
"You ladies done plannin an's$@%?! Let's just go kick some cultist ass!"
He looks shocked.
Not because of the absurdity of the plan but the fact that they took him seriously.
Honey and stirges dear.
He wasn't sure if the voice was that woman or his mother. It sounded like something she'd had said once but...
Though the minor problem stopped him from over-thinking it.
"I understand your rush Voyla, but I have no desire to be a martyr for people I don't even know. If we're going to do this, we need to do it methodically.
His voice doesn't come off as scolding or even hurtful, it just states what it is.
"Well then. If we're going to get this working take these arrows and do what you will; I need to prepare something."
He gets down onto the floor and unclasps his book from his bag, standing back up. "Give me a few moments while you get the bonfire set up. I have a spell just for this situation, though I'll need a moment to practice the incantations."
Niklos keeps his eyes forward and narrowed as the others postulate and plan. His focus primarily on the cultists and ensuring they aren't prematurely discovered.
- - - -
As the plan comes together and Dramin begins to prepare his spell, Niklos keeps keen eyes turned toward the reeds. After a moment, he hears a rustling coming from within the field.
Niklos puts a hand to the side where it lands upon his ursine companion. He then locks eyes with the beast and wordlessly beckons him to follow to the fringe of the rows... where he might best lurk in wait to strike. In hushed tones he informs "They come, three... maybe four with wings in tow. Make haste with your plan or ready shaft and string."
Marsh gives Niklos the sign that he understands then slips into the area looking to surprise strike one of the foes.
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Checking the fire at the mayor's house... Bacarov signals for everyone to spread out as he sees Marsh skulk off to gain am advantage. The Inspector slips to the edge of the tall grass and takes a knee, spear at the ready. But as he casts his gaze over the situation, he knows not all may be able to hide.
The ice in his stomach burns as he calls upon the gifts unlocked within him since Markham's weapon had nearly hewn him in two...
-
- If I'm found,
- If I'm not found,
Using me as a ruse worked once. I was hoping it would work again. If the mutants were focused on me they might not notice the others coming in to destroy them.
And so... I began the dance of the veils. I hoped these things were male. Men got stupid seeing this dance.
Just as the figures come around through the opening in the reeds and into view, Warshawski begins to dance, hoping for a repeat of her success with the troll-stones. The three humanoid figures are curiously-dressed, wearing shabby, off-white robes belted at the waist with rope. Their faces are hidden behind masks- strange masks indeed, with long, pointed proboscises and antennae curling away from their heads. Some of you have seen masks like these before, or at least part of one; the late Calwen had brought along a piece of mask from the site of the druid Armand's murder as evidence. There is no doubt now, if ever there was, that this cult was directly responsible for his death, though if Calwen's last words were true, then the druid's killer has already faced justice.
The cultists vary in height and build- one quite tall and thick, one average, and one rather slight of build- but all of them carry a gleaming sickle in hand. A trio of stirges flit about their heads, eyeing Warshawski hungrily.
Even from a distance, you can hear the largest of the cultists grunt in surprise and begin stomping your way, grumbling an order to his two smaller companions. Sickles in hand, stirges flapping about overhead, they look ready for a battle...
Marsh bursts from the stalks whirling Masher down on the largest cultist.
"Ha ha! Suprise j#@zbags!"
vs flat footed
Duroj announces his arrival onto the field with a bestial growl that's followed by a barreling charge into the core of the cultists. Thick legs pounding across the turf he draws near before rearing up onto his hind legs to his full height, and driving a claw downwards upon the diagonal to crush a cultist beneath it's fall...
Niklos slips out in his bear's wake, choosing his path more carefully though still with haste and choosing a more reasonable target for his bladed wrath. He picks out a low flying stirge and delivers a heavy handed lunge towards it's core...
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Bacarov peels from the shadows the swirls of ethereal material keeping him hidden. He scans back up the path for further intruders...
...satisfied he has only the stirge to worry about he positions himself opposite Marsh as the big warrior leaps forward to attack the first of the interlopers. Then Niklos' massive companion plunges into the midst of the melee.
Go for the third...bury them now! His hand comes up, a dark blue glow emitting, trailing tendrils of the same color, glimpses of twinkling starlight in the contrails. Bacarov feels the power surge in him. He pictures Anali Prostos...the villainous carver of the Lower Ends as he beat the charges once more. "...never again..." He whispers into the ear of the third cultist, glowing hand grasping be back of his neck as the Inspector channels his hatred into him. The blue light crackles through the enemy's body, the tendrils wafting upward from the nooks and crannies of his horrific mask.
- Slip in behind baddie #3
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-
- Will Save DC 15 for half
Since undead are powered by negative energy, this spell cures such a creature of a like amount of damage, rather than harming it.
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Bacarov brings his spear to bare and thrusts forward to follow his initial attack.
- Step back and thrust
-
Knowing first hand the damage the Stirges can do Voyla aims for them.
She aims for the other two stirges, firing as fast as she is able.
Not much of a hunter when you aren't sneaking up on deer huh?
He grins and his face gets smug.
Divination. Who needs anything else?
Surprise Round
He casts a Gravity Bow with the held scroll .
First Round
He shuffles away the Shield scroll and then quickdraws his Bow in a flash, letting it loose on the nearest Stirge with prejudice.
Can't afford for them to get their footing.
The bear's bloodlust not entirely met he shifts from the fallen man to swat the last remaining stirge from the sky. As Duroj repositions, Niklos slips into a flanking position...
Flanking Power Attack Claw: for
The ambush is as fast as lightning, and every bit as deadly.
Marsh brings his heavy flail's demon head down on the stirge-like mask of the largest of the cultists, crushing the mask and the skull beneath it. Duroj, charging ahead of his master, brings the full brunt of his ursine strength to bear against the next, and a woman's scream is cut short by his claw. Bacarov, not to be outdone, slips in like a living shadow, his hand pulsing with otherworldly energy, and lays a hand on the lone remaining cultist, the smallest of the group- who shrieks in pain and collapses to the ground, twitching. The eerie mask falls from the cultist's face as it falls, and long, blonde curls tumble free. Shel Lupescu hacks and gasps for air as blood oozes from her every orifice.
The stirges buzzing overhead last only seconds longer, as a volley of arrows from Voyla fell two, and another, empowered arrow from Dramin cuts down the last just as Duroj swipes at it.
- - - -
The identities of the patrolling cultists are clear. The big man felled by Marsh was Saul Lupescu, the bald and surly owner of the Lupescu Trading Company. A look of shock and fear is frozen on his mangled face. Next to him, beneath Duroj's heavy paws, lies a woman you do not recognize, but judging from the color and texture of her hair, must be Shel's mother.
As for Shel herself, the teenage girl lies crumpled at Bacarov's feet, hacking up blood in the aftermath of the Inspector's spell. While not dead yet, it is clear that she won't last but a few short seconds.
Voyla approaches Shel, and kneels next to the girl, closing her open dead eyes.
"I am sorry. But it had to be done. Forgive me."
She stands, a tear on her face.
"Let's move, we have a live to save. Do we do the smoke thing, then?"
A hand put to Duroj's shoulder serves to calm the bear as Niklos looks to the still breathing girl. Face devoid of emotion he merely adds "Be quick... we need to keep moving."
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Bacarov looks down at the Lupescu girl. "Young fool, only now, at the end, do you truly understand." He says softly to her. His hand comes up, a sheen of frost forming in his palm, a dark blue glow in his eyes. He leans in close to whisper in her ear.
He gestures to Dramin, "Finish your preparations. I will start the fire when you're ready." A glance is spared for the dead. "They'll send others."
He pulls the mask from the girl once she's dead, then points to tattered robes on the Lupescu man. "Vinnie, take this mask, put on his clothing. You may have an opportunity for some subterfuge." To the others, "Someone else could salvage a second guise, then the two could escort me in as a prisoner. Then the smoke starts, then we attack."
"Heh, nice new five finger death punch you got there pal."
Marsh knuckles Sebastian's shoulder playfully.
"You're all like <<<Baah-Zot!>>> now yer dead!"
Marsh picks up the undamaged mask and inspects it.
"Could be useful."
Then he begins checking Saul's pockets.
"Maybe they've got potions or somethin." he explains.
There was the girl. Was she always this thing? Or did they initiate her as she grew older? Was she born mean or just twisted into it? I wanted to ask her but now didn't seem the time. The truth was, her soul was given over. I'm not a follower of the Dawn Goddess. I don't believe in second chances like maybe I should.
"I'm the one they want." I pointed out. "The sacrifice connected to the spirit world. If anything. You and Marsh should put on the disguises and carry me in as a prisoner. Go in, confuse them. Start a fire. Confuse them more. Then take the chance to get our girl free and clear."
And hope that she wasn't twisted in disguise like the rest of them.
Shel Lupescu stares up at Bacarov with pain-crazed eyes, struggling to speak as her mouth fills with blood. She clutches at his pants leg weakly and whispers hoarsely, "Bartley..." She shudders and convulses, then draws her last breath. Face twisted in agony, covered head to toe in her own blood, she is a far cry from the youthful town beauty she was just a few hours before.
Marsh searches the bodies of the elder Lupescus, finding two vials of Blue Whinnis poison on either of them- a familiar substance, to be sure. He also finds a potion of cure light wounds on the mother.
As Voyla does what she can for the slain girl and Bacarov begins his plan to set the fire, a sound begins to rise up out of the distant field. Light springs up atop the mound in the center of the Chenowitz fields, obscured as it is by the reeds. It looks as if a bonfire has been lit there. Accompanying the flames is the sound of chanting in an eerie language, distorted by both distance and the sheer number of voices, though there is one voice in particular that seems to be leading them: certainly, it must be the voice of Andretti Kriegler.
With a momentary shared glance to his companion, Niklos looks upwards and the pair touch foreheads once more. In hushed tones he murmurs "În umbra prietenul meu. Am mers pe jos ca slujitor morții."
To the others he snaps his head around and growls "We go now... lest it be too late." not entirely waiting to see who shadows his approach, but setting off at what speed can be mustered with his ursine companion in tow. Duroj, with bloodied claw, sways heavily from side to side as he keeps his head low and mouth in half-snarl as he tracks into the field at Niklos' side.
Dramin gets himself ready and musters up as much energy as he can.
He sees the halfling skulk away.
"Are we going to complete the plan then or have we botched this already?"
Marsh puts a hand on Sebastian's shoulder.
"Try not to think about what she meant. Not now, it won't help."
He looks down at the dead girl. There is not hate or malice in his words.
He begins coating his blades in Blue Winnis. Then brings out a small vial of obviously magical oil.
"This is it guys, the title bout. Heh, it's been a great ride. If we don't all make it through the last round I just wanted to say it's been great servin with you all. Even if some of you can be a pain in the ass. Heh, I mean that even for you Warshawski, sincerely."
"Anyway no time to sing songs and s*+~, hold hands or pray in a circle or whatevah, but um . . . I wanted to ya know? . . . Say thank you guys."
"I guess I'm gonna have to go into this without the beast Sebastian. . . Oh well."
"Now, let's get in there and do somethin good. Cause I ain't about to get trumped by some half pint and his dancin bear. Heh, I'm right behind you Niklos."
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"Bartley..." Bacarov mutters to himself. "They're using Marleyna." He waves over Dramin and motions for the others to get moving get. "We go now. No time for much else..."
"Dramin, fire the smoke arrows you've got at the south side of the field. It's worth a distraction..."
"We move as one, Voyla, Dramin, barrage the mayor with arrows until we close the distance. Vinnie,Niklos and hid companion will press forward to the altar. I'll keep pace with them and provide support. Ours is the task of killing Kreigler..."
"Warshawski, Voyla, get to Marleyna Bartley. When you have her freed, call out. I may have a way to grant her temporary Sanctuary. Dramin, stick with them and see if you can identify the magic being used and if it can be disrupted. Maybe douse that bonfire."
"This may devolve into a riot. If that happens we stick together and fight back to back. Raises our odds in getting to the altar."
"Good luck everyone, may the Scales tip in our favor."He takes a breath, holding his spear in one hand and fishing in his satchel with the other. He quickly retrieves the Scroll of Color Spray. "I'll see of we can't cut a path to Kreigler with this..." He uses the spear as a walking stick, moving as swiftly as possible to keep up with Vinnie.
- Move in behind Vinnie
- Cast Color Spray in a "shotgun" line towards the altar
- AC 21 | Cloak of Darkness
15 ft Range
Will DC 14 Saves
A vivid cone of clashing colors springs forth from your hand, causing creatures to become stunned, perhaps also blinded, and possibly knocking them unconscious. Each creature within the cone is affected according to its HD.
2 HD or less: The creature is unconscious, blinded, and stunned for 2d4 rounds, then blinded and stunned for 1d4 rounds, and then stunned for 1 round. (Only living creatures are knocked unconscious.)
3 or 4 HDThe creature is blinded and stunned for 1d4 rounds, then stunned for 1 round.
5 or more HDThe creature is stunned for 1 round.
Sightless creatures are not affected by color spray.