Kardak has dealt with, or heard of, something similar at least-- the nightmare before him is a shadow demon, something that even Pathfinders more seasoned than yourself would find a terrible foe to fight in combat. Perhaps their most terrible ability is the fact that-- as Kardak knows, as he grabs at the vial-- they are not truly material, and a weapon with no enchantment on it cannot even touch them.
Kardak also knows that these foul demons have difficulty operating in direct sunlight, at least, in their true forms.
The damage reductions common to demons apply-- good-aligned weapons, or cold iron, will get past this supernatural defense.
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Maps sheaths his wand and plucks a vial from his belt. He doesn't know what this creature is, but anything that can reach through solid material is definitely magical in nature, and you fight magic with magic. He considers his firearm, then glances at Filios' blade.
"Filios, that weapon magical?" He mutters to his companion, watching the floorboards warily.
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Saki doesn't know what it is she's looking at, but she knows--in her heart she knows--that it's a being of purest, foulest evil, and her face twists into a look of utter disgust at the very sight of it. Ignoring the lesser shadow completely, Saki strides through the crowd and up onto the stage, her eyes gleaming with undisguised, righteous hatred.
Perhaps Shelyn protects Saki as she walks for the stage and lifts her glaive. Perhaps the goddess enfolds her in her grace, and deflects the claws of the little shadowy brute.
All that Saki knows is that there is evil before her and she is striding to meet it. After the spiritual questions the mission has caused in her so far, it is good to have something that is simple and straightforward: evil to be destroyed.
Saki lifts her glaive and brings it down with all the holy force she can muster.
The glaive strikes with a flash of holy light. The shadow demon snarls inside everyone's minds, its eyes burning like savage coals.
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Pale-faced, Jeon Raeng-Woo throws himself back from the demon, his eyes wide. Somewhere outside, your monk is running back as fast as he can.
Arastrax, meanwhile, is grinning-- its mouth a silhouette of black-on-black.
What? You back up from me, little one? But... I THOUGHT... YOU THRIVED IN THE SHADOWS!
He steps back from Saki's holy glaive, gestures-- and everything goes very black. Pitch black.
It's always darkest before the dawn.... right, guys?
Maps does not know exactly what spell this is. It's similar to Darkness, which he is familiar with, but seems far more powerful.
If Maps backs all the way to the tent exit, feeling his way along using the chairs and tables, he will find that outside the tent he can juuust see. The light seems dim and wavery, like dusk, despite the fact that it was broad daylight when he and the other Pathfinders entered.
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The pavilion suddenly goes dark, incredibly dark, so much so that Saki feels as if she has fallen into the pits of the Abyss itself. But she saw the demon step back, remembers where she last saw it, can feel the evil presence just out of her reach. She carefully steps forward, moving until she can feel the warmth of Krunch just beside her, can vaguely make out his outline in the darkness before her.
Muttering a quiet prayer to Shelyn to guide her strike, Saki thrusts her glaive forward--and, somehow, manages to hit something despite all the odds.
"Maps!" she shouts out into the darkness, unsure of where the gunslinger was at this moment. "Anyone else with ranged weapons! Try to take down the roof of the pavilion so we can get some light in here!"
She deigns not to respond to the demon's taunting; there was no point in lowering herself to its level, because the demon would always win when it came to underhanded scare tactics. The only way to win would be with the power of truth and goodness.
Saki, Shelyn must be guiding you. Not only did your first attack hit, your second does too, even though you cannot see your foe. The goddess is serving as your eyes. This was the foe you were sent here to fight!
The only answer to Filios's challenge is another peal of mocking laughter-- all the more so as the attack goes wide in the darkness.
Do not curse the darkness; light a candle! Or... something. In this case, you may well be inclined to curse the darkness. It's making it nigh impossible to be sure you are striking.
Outside, Maps can hear feet pounding the trail in a fast tattoo. Alan appears at the edge of his vision, breathing hard from the last vestiges of the paranormal fear.
From Alan's point of view, the pavilion is a strange sight: from the doorway a stream of darkness comes out, bathing Maps who stands in it, in a line of murky twilight. Inside the pavilion is like looking into the blackest abyss-- an abyss from which frightened screams emerge. Maps and Alan can both see one white-faced shoulder hacking at the canvas tent, following Kardak's earlier instructions. He's got a slash cut in the wall now, and shaken guests are stumbling out into the daylight.
In your minds, the mocking whisper continues.
And still you tell me you thrive in the shadows! So do I. Little fool, you can't even hit me. He takes an idle, contemptuous swipe at Filios.
The paladin, however, can hit him. Unseen in the blackness, the demon moves towards the direction of the woman whose glaive just hit him. Its other hand, and its teeth made of void-stuff, seek out Saki's warm heart.
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Maps snatches a metal sphere from his belt and strikes it against one of a few small plates sewn into his weapon harness. A spark like a tindertwig bursts to life on it. Pausing to calculate the angle of the sun, he tosses it onto the roof of the tent, aiming for a spot over the fight within.
He then tries to pull up a nearby stake.
Maps thinks fast and acts quickly under pressure. Despite the screams of the guests, he can hear Saki's words, and a plan quickly forms. He lobs the bomb in a high arc to the canvas of the pavilion's roof.
But will your bomb break on the canvas, or merely bounce off?
It works! Your bomb strikes one of the support beams and FWOOM! Fire happens, blowing a hole into the canvas and starting to lick greedily at the edges, burning an ongoing hole. Maps cannot see the result, but he grimly sets to yanking up a stake.
Inside the tent, sunlight beams down, helping to negate some of the mystical darkness. It diffuses into mere gloom, outlines visible once more, features, faces, your wounds... and Arastrax himself.
Able to see the outline of his foe now, Kardak takes a step back and strikes with his glaive, as burning tatters of canvas drift down to the floor past him.
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It takes all Saki has to not cry out in pain as the shadow demon tears into her unarmoured flesh, but she withstands, just, helped by stabilising herself with just a touch of holy magic. Only a touch though. Even the paladin has to admit she's looking worse for the wear, with shadowy tendrils still lingering about her wounds. She attempts to retaliate, but her strike is weakened from the pain, slow and ineffectual.
The intense burst of cold makes Saki stagger. It's funny; in the west people think of all the hells as being hot. In the east, they know better: the pit has its frozen sections as well, and in this moment Saki is familiar with their bitter chill.
Her glaive slips just past the mocking monster.
Alan runs forward, leaping over tables and tumbling deftly through the darkness towards the sounds of the combat. Once he can see, he takes up a position near Saki, willing to throw his own body into the fray to help shield his colleague.
Arastrax hisses as the darkness is rendered slightly less dire. The silhouetted head glances up towards the burning hole, judging the rate at which it will widen, perhaps--
--and then the demon freezes, head whipping in another direction, peering at something none of you can see.
A half-second's pause, then Arastrax laughs in your minds.
Well. I see the first rat has managed to flee the cage. Oops.
The shadows draw back, cozily near Krunch who still stands there helpless and bewildered in the face of a foe his mighty arms cannot grab.
I bid you fond farewell, you bright little lights against the night! Let's see-- The ONYX ALLIANCE sends its regards, I made that clear, didn't I? Good. Good. Goodbye! Until when next we dance!
The nightmarish silhouette gestures with its claws-- and is gone, gone, as if had never been there to begin with. The tiny shadow creature in the corner fades away with its master.
Sunlight is streaming in more and more now-- the young guard's slashing at the canvas has opened a rent on one side, and the dazed guests stumble out. The growing hole in the roof floods the pavilion with an increasing amount of light, and within a minute's time the biggest danger will be fire, rather than monsters.
But a minute's time is long enough for the Pathfinders to blink, and breathe, and realize that the moment of crisis is past: that Arastrax is not going to strike at you from the shadows, that he truly is gone. It's long enough to start herding the guests out into the light. Even though she is shaken and injured, Hamaria's air of command reasserts itself in directing the guests to leave the pavilion.
Seek the light.
As the Pathfinders-- several of them badly wounded-- stumble out into the honest daylight once more, Rubani Shafar runs up, panting. Her armor is smeared with blood, as is the hooked blade of her weapon. She relaxes marginally when she sees Hamaria Blakros alive.
The other guards are straggling together to converge on the central area, next to the burning pavilion. Everyone seems dazed, bemused, shaken by the violent and sudden demonic assault that had occurred at several points on the island.
Nigel Aldane kneels by his wife in the dirt, both of their fine clothes torn and disheveled, talking softly with each other.
Jeon Reang-Woo looks as though the horrors of the fight have brought him into a sudden and sharp aging. He kneels by the wounded, bringing what comfort he can although his divine energies are quickly expended. Some of the guests are past his ability to help, and the young Tien bows his head over each.
Damien Kastner has found a sword somewhere-- its blade is dark with demon blood as well. He sets it aside to stiffly embrace the woman he believes to be his wife; the true Michellia watches from a few feet away, her expression unreadable.
Alexander Bedard tells any who will listen that he slew three of the demons himself, with a tankard blessed by Cayden Ceilean.
You've lived, Pathfinders. Take stock of yourselves, lick your wounds, breathe the clean air of another day's survival.
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Saki breathes a shuddering sigh of relief as the sun comes out in more ways than one, the shadow demon scared off(?) from this place... for now. This 'Onyx Alliance' had her incredibly concerned, but that was a topic for later, and certainly a discussion to be had with the venture-captains present so that the Ten could be informed. For now, there were more important things to deal with.
Ignoring her own quite terrible wounds, Saki moves to help the wounded and fallen guests of the wedding alongside Jeon Raeng-Woo, trying to bring what comfort she can to them. She most notably steers clear of the Blakros sisters, still prickling with the indignity that her fellow Pathfinders had forced upon her earlier that day. However, she does check in on Nigel Aldane and his wife, both to inquire about their health and whisper a few words of good luck (and a wink!) to him. "This might be a good chance to make things right," she whispers.
Nigel meets Saki's eyes briefly, then gives a small nod and drops his gaze to the dirt. "Perhaps," he murmurs. "Thank you. To you and all your comrades. For our lives if nothing else."
In the chaos of the attack, Eleanir's seeming arrival is given nary so much as a blink. Wedding dresses and velvet suits alike are smeared with blood and dirt.
Hamaria Blakros seeks out the Pathfinders after the most grievously injured have been made stable, Shafar at her side. She gives them a solemn nod.
"It appears we owe the Pathfinder Society another debt. Your intervention there with that... thing... wearing our captain's body undoubtedly saved many lives here. You held it at bay for precious seconds, buying time for those less able to escape the horrors it and its minions would have wrought on us. My guests all owe you a debt."
Her gaze goes to her daughters, softening slightly. "I owe you a debt."
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Even as the darkness gives way to the light Krunch continues to spin, growling and throwing punches at the shadows (especially his own).
Only once he's sure his shadow has had a thorough beating does the hulking Pathfinder pause to take in the scene.
"Oh no! Pretty-Saki is hurt!" rushing to embrace the Shelynite paladin with all the care of an overly-affectionate grizzly bear, Krunch gushes apologies.
"It wasn't Krunch's fault. Krunch didn't bring all the shadow monsters and ruin the fancy tent. Krunch is sorry!!!"
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Maps returns to the scene of the fight just after the shadow creature's sudden departure. Scowling as the darkness dissipates he lowers his wand. When it becomes clear that the diabolical creature isn't returning, he puts it away. Vroclaw of Brevoy was surely still around here somewhere and was probably capable of handling the cleanup with one healing hand behind his back. And if the First Priest was indisposed for some reason, then the Blakros likely had a stockpile of healing potions in case someone broke a nail or sprained an ego. In any event, Maps likened his wand to a source of clean water in the waste. Thirst was good, it kept a person motivated and reminded them they were lucky to be alive. Wounds did likewise.
Leaving the reception grounds, he seeks out a vantage point away from the crowds. Leaning against a tree he goes through the process of cleaning his firearm as he considers recent events.
The Onyx Alliance. The creature had boasted loudly before it withdrew. It had wanted those present to know the source of the attack. But what was the purpose?
Despite the consuming mystery of his past, and the constant favors paid to the Ruby Prince, he found a seed of curiosity growing within him that sought something more. The Blakros were wealthy and influential, and a powerful ally of the Society. Whatever the goals of the Onyx Alliance were, it seemed the Blakros were entwined in them, and it was a strong likelihood that the Society would soon find themselves mixed up in the plot as well.
Holstering his weapon, Maps turned his gaze to the sea and the ships anchored below. His mind imagined them loaded with survivors, injured, and the fallen, setting sail across the waters for home. Somewhere out there was a place that he once called home. But for once, Map's thoughts sought a different path.
Tugging his sleeves over the ink designs on his skin, he pushed away from the tree and turned to walk back towards the smoldering pavilion. Time to seek different answers.
It does seem a bit strange that the demon made so very sure you knew of its allegiance, doesn't it, Maps? Perhaps dark shadows are indeed on the horizon for the Blakros family... and for the Pathfinders who have thrown in their lot with them.
For better or worse, your questions have only multiplied.
On the other hand, you got to end the party by lighting their fancy pavilion on fire. There's worse ways to get jiggy with it.
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Kardak rolls a few snarky comments around in his mind - Up until the punching, it was a real nice party. ... I don't care much for fancy parties. Too rough. - to distract himself from how little it felt like he helped, both during and after the last fight. I need to find a source of magical light to be prepared for the next time something like this happens, and maybe find a way to do more than hand someone bandages or a wand...
"What was up with that guy - Arastrax or whatever his name was? He sounded like a stage villain who had forgotten some of his lines - certainly powerful, but..." he trails off, realizing that finishing with "but I could do better at terrorizing a tent full of party-goers" just might not go over too well.
"Besides his word, do we have any proof that the Onyx Alliance is behind this? While they could have arranged this to send the Blakroses a message, it could also be a clever scheme by a third party to make us fight them."