Aleithea cries out in pain when the cat tears apart most of her left side. While pinned beneath the monster, and with few options presenting themselves, she sighs heavily. There appears to be but one option.
She takes a deep breath and angrily swings her morningstar at the feline's gaping maw.
Oh, please...Oh, please...Oh, please hit!
Aleithea flails wildly, trying desperately to hit the cat, but barely has enough space to swing the morningstar, which misses badly.
HP 18/18
"Die, you foul beast!" yells Hawkwing as he raises his sword and brings it down toward the cat.
Hawkwing's sword swings wildly, and the cat deftly moves out of the way.
The great cat notices Hawkwing after narrowly dodging his sword. He drops Aleithea from his mouth and lunges toward fighter. Maqej also finds himself in the way of a claw.
Claw (Ar):
Claw (Ma):
The cat's teeth and claw clang into Hawkwing's armor, but don't seem to be able to pierce it. But the final claw slashes out towards Maqej, who doesn't dodge in time.
Seems like we need some inspiration
Thom begins bolstering the groups resolve with tales of heroics while also preparing another dagger for action.
HP:10/10
Slightly off tune and largely off key, Timur joins in his own version of Thom's song,
'There once was a bomb form Madrid,
Who had a wife and three kids,
But then one day,
When a cat came to play,
The brave, small bomb blew his lid.'
Inspired more by his own clever lyrics than Thom's tale, Timur lobs another bomb at the cat, this time connecting directly with his face. Fire explodes all around, and the cat hisses in rage, confused as to wear the bomb came from. Charred fur all around the cat reveal it to be in bad shape, close to death.
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Nya's crossbow bolt whizzes past her target and sticks into the southern door with a thunk that goes unnoticed by the cat.
HP = 5/11
"Man, I really wanna kill this thing!" exclaims Maqej as he takes a small step back and points at the feline.
Maqej's ray, like others' attacks before him, shoots off wildly and blasts into the dungeon ceiling, knocking rocks loose.
Aleithea, no longer impeded by the cat's enormous form, rises to her feat and swings violently, realizing victory is within reach.
Aleithea's swing misses the cat badly, further confirming that her and her party seem completely incapable of dealing damage and raising the question of why they are in a dungeon in the first place.
"Stay back, I'll bring it down!" yells Hawkwing, moving back to better protect his allies. He swings his sword, slicing through the flesh of the giant feline, which lets out a pained moan as it falls to the dungeon floor, it's life flooding away.
"Victory!" yells Hawkwing as he thrusts his blade into the cat one last time.
"Hopefully this is more indicative of 'great things from small beginnings' rather than an early grave. Overcoming adversity always looks good in an epic." Thom says as he goes over to examine the fallen feline.
"Ah it was a mountain lion. Quite a bit larger than your standard mountain lion though."
It's too bad zoos don't exist in this reality. If they did, we probably would have been able to recognize a mountain lion when we saw it, even if it was a large one.
'Oh, it's dead...oh...gone to join Reginald...poor, poor Reginald,' Timur opines sadly. Turning the the rest of the party, Timur begins wildly hurling accusations, 'Alright, which one of you summoned the lion? You knew that I, I, I am allergic, especially to its claws. Luckily I survived that one unharmed. It takes more than a cat to steal Timur Lenk's life, although I have no intention of finding out how much more. I'll forgive you all this time, but next time that cat will suffer serious consequences.'
Seemingly happy with the apologies he's imagined receiving from the party, Timur joins Nya in examining the frescos, naming each horse either sunshine or buttercup depending on the appearance of their tails. Ironically, none of the flying horse are christened sunshine.
"I took a hit myself, and I believe the Cleric and Sorcerer did as well," Hawkwing says in an authoritative voice.
"My good lady cleric, might you be able to heal all of us at once? That seems like it might be the most efficient."
Ny Perception:
Al Perception:
Hw Perception:
Ti Perception:
Ma Perception:
"There seems to be a secret trap door here, so there's another option for us to consider as far as our next move." Thom announces as he taps the ground with his foot.
Thom puts some distance between himself and the spot where he just indicated was a trap door and mutters something while pointing.
Nya checks the door in the floor for traps, but finds none. At Thom's command, the door creaks open, revealing a narrow spiral staircase.
Hawkwing walks over to the south door and pushes on it lightly.
"It doesn't seem like it will be too much trouble to open, m'lad...m'fox...miss. I'll open it if we decide to go that way."
Hawkwing walks back over and peers down through the trap door.
"I don't believe the room underneath the trap door would be too dangerous. It only leads 10 feet down, and the next level of the dungeon would be much farther down than that."
"Secret trap door that probably won't get us killed sounds like a good place to try next. Nya if you would be so kind as to lead the way."
Ny Perception:
Al Perception:
Hw Perception:
Ti Perception:
Ma Perception:
You descend the narrow, spiraling staircase which reveals a cramped room with ceilings no more than 7 feet high. Other than a few, assorted barrels and lots of dust, nothing of interest seems to be found here. A wooden door stands to the west.
"There's a trap. On the door. I, I, I can smell it. These barrels will be our coffins. And I, I, I'm taller than a barrel. They'll have to remove my legs. I've grown so attached to them over the years." Timur points out, gesticulating wildly towards the door, then towards a barrel, and finally in at least three other directions. With a shallow bow, Timur makes a request. "Nya, kindly go fix the matter before we all perish."
Aleithea sends forth a burst of warm light from within her, fortifying those around her.
Does everyone feel well enough to continue now, or is more magical healing in order?
"I'm still I bit injured, but I should be okay for now. I much appreciate the assistance," Hawkwing says, bowing.
Nya, after assuring herself that the west door is not trapped, opens it, revealing a similar room filled with barrels and dust.
Ny Perception:
Al Perception:
Hw Perception:
Ti Perception:
Ma Perception:
"Does anyone know anything about magic? I need you to come look at this sigil." Maqej says aloud to the group.
Timur perks up at the suggestion of magic.
"Magic? I, I, I've studied some. Under the stern, watchful gaze of my father, my, my, my young mind blossomed in the magical arts. Sadly, autumn came too soon."
Going over to join Maqej, Timur seems to notice him for the first time. "Your horns look quite magical. Would you mind if I, I, I rubbed them for...hmmm...luck?"
Timur leans to examine the sigil while extending his hand towards Maqej's organic crown.
"Assuming this sigil is benign enough, then yes it would be a good location to remember." Thom says as he moves over to examine the sigil indicated by Maqej
This sigil, the first and weakest of all them, conveys power to a melee weapon if it is etched onto its surface. Once used, it disappears, but it can be re-etched, although no weapon can have it etched more than once and no wielder can have more than one weapon with the sigil upon it at a time.
Timur, terrified, jerks back from the sigil. Neglecting to release Maqej's horns, he brings the efrit along for his retreat. "Matterak! He's here! He's here! The dragon prince of lore! The long-forgotten glistening wyrm! The wretched bastard born from the pits of hell! The diseased and cursed leviathan! Friends...We're surely friends now. We've all signed a death oath by entering here."
With excitement unbecoming of a man who's just declared his own death, Timur begins scattering belongings from his man purse, searching the rather shallow depths. He withdraws an old, rusted dagger and begins examining its edge. After determining the dagger meets his needs, he selects a rock from near his feet and begins striking the dagger. After a considerable time, he's created a sloppy approximation of the sigil at the base of the blade.
Waving dagger dangerously close to his companions' faces, Timur attempts further explanation, "Dragon bane! It's given the blade power. And there's more...Eleven more! Eleven more marks of power. Matterak has a weakness. Will we die here? It's likely, but we may be able to take the bastard with us."