... Good gravy, I hope that's enough...
The gunslinger's teeth clamp down as lightning courses through his body. "That'll get your hairs on end, bub."
Eldred braces himself and Zeltresh, gripping his spear and hammering downwards to try and peel the critters off. Then he takes a (5ft) step back. "Hit 'em again!"
Vincent, wincing at the jolt of electricity that surged through his body, musters up the magical energy within him to help his friend, and hopefully keep him from falling to these...things...
__________
With few options for attack, Adurus draws out his mace now, crouching low and preparing to swing it into the swarm of bizarre creatures when they draw nearer.
Zeltresh teeters for an instant on his perch before finding his balance. The things coming at them are so foreign to him that he almost pauses, unable to resist taking a moment to study them.
"They've already banged up, keep the pressure on!"
His mind quickly realizes the level of the threat the group would face if these things get out of the pipe and puts his tactical vantage point to good use.
"Watch your eyebrows, sir!"
Wait... something about that flame feels... different...
Arzazel watches in awe of his gnome friend and ensures that they are not ambushed while distracted by the things from the pipe.
Nathmir moves to place himself in a better position, ready for the creatures should they come.
His mind racing, temporarily causing him to stall, Rutilus thinks over what he knows about constructs. As the group prepare themselves to be overrun by the metallic swarm, Rutilus's jaw hangs open at the sheer idiocy of his comrades.
"What are you doing, packing yourselves in there like that?! Do you want to be overran by the constructs and blown apart by your allies? Bah! These constructs can repeair physical damage done to them easily enough! Those without fire, acid, or cold attacks are just in the way!"
As he angrily berates his allies, Rutilus moves to the entrance of the boiler and lobs his held flask over their heads. Though he obviously doesn't try to hit them, it is apparent that he doesn't really seem to care of his attack splashes on his allies or not - a few acid burns build character, after all.
The awkwardness of his newly found perch prove disastrous to Zeltresh's aim, as his spell surges far overheard of the approaching swarm to trail scorch and flame along the pipeline interior beyond. Overcrowding is becoming an abundantly clear issue—one that visits ramification on all within and without the boiler tank. Even as Zeltresh's flaming blast surges overhead, Adurus attempts to swipe his mace through the ranks of their tiny foes. While several are knocked aside, the damage appears to be largely superficial. They return to their massive host without hesitation, seeming unperturbed by the squire's powerful blow.
Rutilus' frustrations are confirmed as he releases his alchemist's fire. Fortunately, the cramped quarters also afford nowhere for the swarm to hide even given his failure to accurately lob the vial. It sails passed the tiefling's intended target and veers to the right into the boiler's corner wall. The explosion manages to engulf a large flank of the swarm's total bulk, though the wave of heat that surges around the chemical reaction similarly catches Eldred and Zeltresh in its wake. Several of the automatons remain on fire in the aftermath, though continue their advance unabated, their orange "emergency" runes mostly lost in the orange and yellow haze of the flames engulfing them.
All inside the boiler wait on bated breath for the surge of crab-like constructs to approach, each hoping the fiery assaults being lobbed from overhead and behind suffice to arrest their charge. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Clattering forward, emotionless, the blanket of foes draws ever closer. And then they were upon them.
Bracing themselves as best they can against a foe whose diminutive proportions and sheer numbers are nearly impossible to defend against, Adurus and Eldred become nearly covered by the swarm. As they scratch, clutch, and clamor their way up the legs of the squire and corporal, a lattice of lightning surges through the whole of their host and through the forms of those they envelop. Worse yet, the small arcs of electricity being conducted through their tiny, metal frames lash out at those within close proximity as well, though the effects are far less dire.
Sampson moves over to the wall to watch the fire show and waits.
The gunslinger's teeth clamp down as lightning courses through his body. "That'll get your hairs on end, bub."
Eldred braces himself and Zeltresh, gripping his spear and hammering downwards to try and peel the critters off. Then he takes a step back. "Hit 'em again!"
Vincent, wincing at the jolt of electricity that surged through his body, musters up the magical energy within him to help his friend, and hopefully keep him from falling to these...things...
__________________________________________________
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////
////
//The Boiler Room//
Though the host has borne great damage and many of its components teeter precariously or remain lifeless and still, it presses on with its assault. It threatens to consume all within the boiler in a tide of metal and electricity, uncaring and unpausing in the face of the veritable inferno that has been unleashed upon it. Adurus and Vincent redouble their efforts in rebuffing the advance. It is a futile effort even as the sword and mace being swung by the representatives of the Most Noble Order of the Exalted March crush and sever vital components of several of the automatons. Eldred's spear manages to discourage a few of the swarm's vanguard from overwhelming him completely with a well placed thrust that dislodges and sends them reeling back down a slope comprised of their kind.
__________________________________________________
>
>
>
Arzazel keeps watch on their flank and readies to retreat if the weird little metal creatures escape the boiler. First elementals, now these things, and he thought Cheliax was weird.
Adurus continues swinging frantically at the swarm with his weapon, hoping that somehow he's doing enough to it to make a difference.
Vincent calls out, "Finish them before they can fire again!" His sword flares with magic as Vincent makes his attack, slicing through a cluster of the metallic creatures.
__________
Nathmir remains ready.
Their numbers have been terribly decimated, but the swarm presses on in spite of the ruin visited upon them. Rutilus grasps a flask tightly, considering for a moment losing it upon the host once more, but restrains himself in favor of not accidentally inflicting more damage upon his newly earned companions. The cramped and crowded situation inside the boiler is too much of a risk for such tactics to continue. Instead, he merely barks out further condemnation at the cluster of people still within. "Fools! You offer yourself up as food in a bowl!"
His words are nearly drowned out by the hum of energy that precedes the electrical discharge of the tide of tiny constructs. It brings with it a strange odor that none have encountered before as it pulses into existence again, forking between those that remain to surge through their opponents as it did moments prior. Thankfully, their diminished ranks seems to have impacted the severity of the onslaught, thought he sudden jolt still brings with it a stunning and pained sensation. The bolts arc to sear flesh and garments where they touch, and hearts in unison skip a beat.
______________________________
Adurus's stance falters with the surge of energy; he sways like a pugilist about to go down for the count. However, he shakes off the darkness, regains his bearings, and continues his desperate fight for survival.
Eldred shifts his stance so he can attempt to shake off the mechanized horde. But he focuses his efforts on maintaining his balance.
Adurus, still fighting the swarm desperately despite the fact that the swarm is no longer fighting back and is scattering, continues to crush the tiny mechanical bugs with his mace. His thoughts are only on keeping himself alive.
"Finally!" Sampson says, walking back over. "Lets be off down the pipe then?"
Vincent tries to catch his breath, less from the exertion of the fight than from the danger they were in, Vincent responds, "Yes, let's. I'm sick of this 'boiler' thing..."
Whatever manner of construct the little lightning-spewing pests were, they seem to have a small measure of respect for self preservation. Many of the remaining components of the host are actively dragging their fallen "brethren" away into the dark recesses of the pipes and the boiler room itself. Others produce a series of tiny instruments from hidden compartments, each unfolding to perform what looks like maintenance on the destroyed remains of others. When confronted with further threat of violence, however, they ultimately retreat—those that are not added to the heap of junk that forms their fallen number, that is.
The chaos of the boiler scuffle finally subsides. While everyone seems ready to press forward, a sense of foreboding begins to swim about Sampson's very being—little more than an annoyance to the dulled emotions of the Hermean, but impossible to ignore nevertheless. It would seem the shade that lingers in his own shadow has not truly retreated.
"Ourrrr barrrgain? What isss it's anssswer? What doesss it require? The betrayer must be !"
The way forward seems, for the moment, clear of threat. The hiss of acids and dance of flames spent throughout the fight finally spend themselves entirely. Once more, darkness looms ahead, and silence follows with the departure of the crab-like constructs back from where they came. From outside on the street, the muted sounds of a struggle renewed arrives. It would seem that the stalemate has, for the moment, evaporated. It is yet far away, however. The small handful of guards posted outside have raised no alarm nor ruckus.
"What do I require? I require that I be the best and most powerful. Give me that, and I will flay the world for you," Sampson thinks back at the voice in his head.
Eldred gives one of the mechanical dohickeys a kick after lowering Zeltresh to the floor. "Not the prettiest bit of fighting, but we got through it."
The gunslinger glares back to Rutilus then looks over to Vincent. He gives his army coat a shake and gets himself ready to move. "Don't know about you, Top, but I'm all for sending demon-blood and his pet bug downrange a bit. If fer anything to just keep the jars of acid outta my hoop."
He works his shoulders a bit, a feeling along the small of his back is causing him enough pain that he winces. His nerves firing at random intervals after the zapping he took from the spider constructs.
"Not sure if you have the ju ju, Adurus, but I could use a dose of death-be-gone if Abadar's offering."
➢
➢
Vincent looks confused when Eldred requests a change in plan, but then smiles and looks at the ground for a moment, trying not to chuckle.
"We'll stick to the original plan. And hopefully, not run into another pack of these things," he punctuates his statement by grinding one that had been left behind under his boot.
Adurus gives a quick nod to Eldred and, without another word, casts a spell on him.
Arzazel is reluctant to go near the front with the threat of another swarm of metal doodads. He'll hang at the back unless someone specifically asks him to take point and allows him to fall back if another swarm is spotted. He is spooked.
You get the distinct impression the thing is smiling, despite not being visible. "There are boooons. Ssseeecrets of the flesssssh. But theeese too have cosssst, human."
A cold chill begins to swim up Sampson's feet and ankles. The sensation draws his glance out of reflex, though he knows his eyes will find no culprit in sight. It continues to climb up his legs, the sensation not unlike that of a dozen hands slowly clutching and pulling their way out of a grave.
"The deeeal is ssstruck then? We offerrrr powerrrr... sssssstrength. Baublesss and coiiiiins besiiiides. And it will "
Eldred and Rutilus resume their positions at the fore, given Arzazel's newfound reluctance. As they press forward through the immense pipeline, they are thankful to discover that their immediate path seems to be unoccupied. They quickly come to the bend up ahead, soon turning to find that it is the only divergence within the pipe's length. Just over a hundred feet ahead, the pipe seems to have been rent open by some sort of tremendous force. They are yet too far away to gain a clear view of what awaits in the chamber beyond, but there are no noises of battle or impending doom (save for that which continues outside on the city streets, that is). A strange, low humming sound emanates from the vestibule ahead. Eldred is certain that the noise is not typical for the place, given that he has visited Rud's Wastewares from time to time during his stay here. It is a sound unlike any present have encountered.
Outside, commanding shouts can be heard ringing throughout the street. The voice is a familiar one, belonging to that of Terandar. It would seem that something has put the Bailiff and his loyal men on the defensive.
"Yes. Feed me, and I will feed you," Sampson thinks. He continues to follow the others through the pipe.
"We may want to be prepared for any new surprises, their have been no shortages of that this cursed night."
He keeps a sharp look out with his crossbow in hand.
|
Moving forward, whether or not Eldred chooses to join him, Rutilus sneakily creeps ahead, keeping a sharp eye out for anything - anything small, mechanical, and in large enough numbers to cause him harm in particular. Baazul, meanwhile, rides in his usual spot, his head peeking out the back of Rutilus' collar.
[/ooc]Baazul Perception Take 10 for 21[/ooc]
Eldred makes to stop the demon-spawn from continuing, but seeing that he's not making too much noise, he stops himself.
Let 'em go, serve him right if he gets crispied.
Like that time you let Rigdon move up when he wouldn't listen? You had to put a round in him before the wights drank him up. the Halfling chides. Can't say I blame you, Dread. Rigdon had a stink on him...
Like rotten fruit...
As the rest of the group comes forward, the gunslinger reports what they found ahead. He knuckles a salute to Vincent. "Somethin' up ahead makin' that strange racket. Not sure what it is, but it sets a mind to wonder if it's got somethin' to do with Lord Terandar mobilizing outside."
He juts a chin towards where Rutilus is heading. "Our Chelaxian delegation saw fit to take a looksee." He rolls his eyes and then proceeds to join the demon at the front. As he goes he slings his boar spear and draws ol' Lia.
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➢
Vincent nods at Eldred. "Keep an eye on him. We are right behind you. We need to get out of these pipes so we can make a sensible stand if need be. But it sounds like we need to hurry. Let's move, guys!"
He then moves up behind Eldred, giving him enough space so that he doesn't ruin any chance at sneaking up on any opposition.
__________
Adurus, once he's calmed down from the encounter with the swarm, readies to follow the group through the claustrophobic pipe. He follows far behind the front line, trying to reduce the burden his noisesome armor causes the group.
Sampson also follows the others down the pipe, while waiting for more information from his secret passenger.
Rutilus and Eldred make their way to the ruined wreckage that is the end of the pipeline. What bits of the immense conduit remain are fragmented and curl outwards. Judging from their charred and blackened nature, it would seem to have been cause by some sort of incendiary explosion that originated within the pipe itself. In the large vestibule beyond, the blasted remains of a second tank and the end of the pipeline litter the floor in all directions. Several dead bodies—mostly city watch—lie motionless on the ground with enormous scorches evident on their bodies. The walls of the interior of Rud's Wastewares seem to be comprised of the same craftsmanship as the exterior: sometimes clean, sometimes rusted sheets of metal and pipework. It is difficult to ascertain much from their current vantage, though their silent approach does afford them a clear view of where the strange thrumming noise is emanating from.
Along the southern wall lies an empty entryway into the vestibule. From prior visits, Eldred can recall that there should be a door there, though something has clearly removed that from the equation. Now, two strange constructs flank either side of the missing door. They are spindly creations, though humanoid enough in overall scope: two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head. Several ablative plates of strange metal cover what no doubt houses their most vulnerable portions. Their heads lack even a human facade, a smooth surface interrupted only by a single, large and red oculus of some kind. Their craftsmanship is unlike any Rutilus or Eldred have seen.
Perhaps even stranger are the large "staves" the two beings currently wield. They are constructed of similar metals as their owners with myriad grooves, indentations, and lights along their length. Both staves are roughly eight feet in length, and seem to be serving as anchors for some sort of energy wall. A soft blue light undulates between the two weapons, appearing brighter—almost white—where they contact the staves and growing a softer blue in between. They remain held stationary by the golems in place of where the door once existed.
The pair of sentries look as though they have not seen the thick of any sort of combat; their armors bear neither scratch nor mar of any kind. Their heads turn in unison to regard the approach of Eldred and Rutilus, much to their surprise, though they make no move nor threat from their current position. They simply return their attention to the empty hallway beyond, seemingly intent on keeping their strange wall of energy in place.
Eldred crouches at the opening of the pipe, forearms draped over his knees, ol' Lia gripped in his right hand. The twinges along his spine are still giving him fits of pain, but between Adurus' healing and his own stubborn nature, he doesn't let his pain show. He cogitates a bit and wonders at the whole situation so far, trying to map out the events inside and wondering if they're looking at it with the right perspective.
He brushes a hand across Rutilus' forearm, subconsciously avoiding the lump which most likely was the leggy-worm of his... "Need ta rethink this one, Rudy. Let's hold up here and palaver a smidge. I reckon you don't have much room in yer noggin' fer the thoughts of an old soldier like myself, but humor me a ways, huh?"
Hoping the demon didn't do anything like leap into the room, the gunslinger holds up his left hand to the rest of the group to call a halt to their progress. With his right, he slips his gun back into his holster. Then he taps the top of his head and points to Vincent, signaling him to advance with a flat hand at the horizontal. Hey boss, mosey up, slow and casual...
Once the Field Squire is in position, Eldred whispers to both him and Rutilus. "Figure this is the way the enemy breeched the Wastewares." He gestures with his off hand towards the dead watchmen below. "Explosion it'd take to pop the pipe here, probably sent those guards to the far off land. But somethin's stickin' in my craw...you may be thinkin' the same..." Eldred pauses, uncomfortable discussing what could be Molthune business in front of the Chelaxian demon.
Nothin' for it. He's already seen this much...
Frig chuckles in the back of Eldred's mind as he rattles off a phrase in that sing-song tone the gunslinger always found so annoying. A round to his red head'll make 'em red dead, Dread...hehe!
Fair enough, now shut it...
Vincent seems to be waiting patiently for Eldred to continue. The gunslinger scratches at the stubble on his chin and adjusts his wide-brimmed hat. "Think we've been eyein' this sideways. If whoever got in here, moved on, blastin' their way through them doors over yonder and deeper up the Wastewares...guards 'r dead...mebbe them buggers back there, then these tin-men down there standin' watch... Could be old Rud's got a back up plan up his sleeve. What if these metal men, them spiders, what if they're guards by design?"
He pulls his hat off and turns to eye the sentries below. "They got a good look at us, so they know we're hear. But they ain't attackin'. They're just keepin' watch, makin' sure no one passes into this area. I'm tempted to drop down n' give 'em my bonafides and see if they give me a pass."
The gunslinger turns his gaze back to the Field Squire, giving him a slight incline of the head. "Whaddya think, Top?" Eldred glances at the demon too. "You too, Rudy. Ya been studyin' 'em for a spell, somethin' ticklin' that brain o' yers?"
Once Vincent catches up to the lead two and listens to Eldred's assessment, Vincent says, "Honestly, nothing I've seen tonight makes any sense. Neither these or the spiders seem to fit into this place, nothing else in here looks like 'em. Given the way the night has went, until we find out what is causing the crazy to get out, we have to assume everything is an enemy until proven otherwise. If it isn't a living person, we destroy it. If it is, we subdue it. That's the best plan I can give you until we have more information."
Eldred restrains the need to protest, but nods understanding and slips his hat back on his head, wiping a right hand across the brim. "Better get the rest up front n' center." He glances over the side and eyeballs a way down that's quick and dirty. "Get 'em down there, I'll go say hi to our tinmen."
With that, he flips his regimental longcoat away from his boots behind him as he surveys the descent, looking oddly like a raven perched above a particularly delicious but dangerous meal. "Knock, knock..." he mutters to himself and leaps from the pipe to shift from one point to the next until he gets to the ground.
That done, the gunslinger stands upright, conscious of the jarring he'd given his spine, and begins to amble to the open and towards the sentries. "I'm Corporal Eldred Pentwert, 2nd Regiment Fusiliers, wonderin' if I could get a sitrep on this place."
Eldred's stance is casual as he approaches, hands to his sides and swinging with his gate. But his eyes are searching the two sentries, relenting focus so he can also take in the surroundings.
-------------------------------
➢ ...getting down from the pipe.
➢ Quick Draw Pistol (Readied Action): If they look to attack, he'll quick draw his sidearm and fire.
➢ (Readied Action)
➢ (If I can get within 20 ft, Ranged Touch Attack DCs)