Artoria ignores the undead at her elbow and instead brings one foot down on a black key the length of her arm. The result is a muffled burst of noise as both the key she is standing on and the one she stomped on send a reverberation up, up, up through the massive bronze pipes-- but the orange undead lurking in the pipes like a spider in a web is radiating that unnatural silence, and what would have been a glorious burst of holy noise gets swallowed up into whimper of sorts...
Yvette's summoned elemental cracks a heavy stone fist into the last undead on the ground, shattering a few bones though it hasn't yet fallen.
Above, orange and purple adjust position slightly in the pipes, spreading themselves to cover the organ pipes as best they can with their sound-swallowing presence. Their sickles are ready to swing at those who would approach them.
Odd, the priestess seems stable-- the undead nearest you is already damaged from the elemental's strike. Seize the moment!
Had the attack come when Jal was still climbing up towards them, it surely would have hit, but Jal has regained his footing high in the pipes. Pity about not having his blade with him. Still, he dodges by a hair.
Red goes poof! in a spray of bone dust and wobbly bits.
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Kara didn't hear Jal's comment, because of the CZone of Silence that the creepy old dead guys are putting out, unfortunately.
The tengu pulls himself up onto the keys in a deft flip of a move, and then looks upwards at the pipes.
Really? REALLY? *sigh*
He starts climbing up the pipes to deal with the remaining creepy old dead guys.
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One dagger down, Odd's lip curls into a slight smile as she produces her much meatier morningstar. She takes her opportunity to smack the nearest undead upside the head with it--and unfortunately isn't used to the weight.
Still, she steps over the Abadaran, intent on protecting the fellow priestess.
Kara achieves the keys; Odd takes a defensive stance over the priestess but fails to connect. The undead in turn swings at her-- and connects.
The earth elemental destroys the skeleton in a shower of dust.
Up in the pipes, the green-cloaked undead swings at Jal...
...but has no more luck than before.
Eerily, it seems to exactly mimic its brother's failure!
Rogar hops fairly nimbly down the keys, and this time coaxes some music from the last key, as the pipe surges with a triumphant note that echoes in the cold and misty air! The heads of the surviving undead all turn Rogar's direction, enmity burning in their empty eyesockets like witchfires.
Then Artoria's blade destroys another.
The two high up in the pipes decide they can no longer stay on the defensive. They move to the edge of the high pipes, gazing down at Artoria and Kara, and then they simply... step off the edge of the high pipes, hurtling downward in eerie silence to crash noiselessly on you like... like... big armored sacks of half-fleshed bones with sickles, essentially.
The two undead look badly hurt from their unorthodox tactic, lying twitching on the keys.
.
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Odd looks up at the melee on the keys up above her, and knows it will not be easy to join her comrades quickly. There's not immediate threat around her...
Her decision made, she steps aside and places a spiraled palm on the Abadaran's chest. A pulse of purple light flows into the woman. "No need to meet with Pharasma yet," she smiles offering the same hand to help her up. "No time to explain -- we need you to help us play the morning song!"
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Jal’s face is set in a look of grim determination as he continues his onslaught. He easily deflects the green-cloaked undead’s attack, taking a moment to step into the momentum as he looks for a weak spot in its defenses. Then he brings his morningstar crashing down where its spine meets its shoulders.
Kara snaps at the undead as it falls, but misses; his next attack manages to connect with the downed skeleton due to a bit of musical inspiration from his dwarf companion. The already-damaged skeleton crashes into dust.
Odd manages to wake up the priestess, healing her almost completely; the woman stares around, bemused and dazed at the dead strewn everywhere, her jaw agape. She gets to her feet at Odd's urging, however.
"It... first the prelude, then the-- oh I'd better do it myself--" She hurries for the ladder.
Only one undead remains, in crummy shape where it lies at Artoria's feet on the keys. Rogar, Artoria, and Yvette... can you finish it, to let the hymn ring free through Absalom's dawn?
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Artoria muscles stiffen from the bruising, but she simple takes a hand off her sword and rests it against her chest.
She shakes her head at the undead creature as her wounds heal. Remembering the silence aura, she mouths her words without trying to voice them.
"Congratulations. You slowed me down for a moment."
She swings her sword at the nape of its neck, cutting down towards his opposite hip.
Artoria's blade destroys the last undead in definitive fashion.
With the last undead fallen, the Pathfinders have little in the way of doing what they need to do. The healed priestess is able to assist with the correct performing of the hymn-- the Pathfinders leap from key to key, and soon the music of Abadar's triumphant hymn bellows forth from the pipes at a bone-shaking volume.
Yargos Gill sags in relief against the church's doorframe, waving one old hand as if conducting.
The last notes of the song eventually die away; everyone shakes their head to clear the echoes.
The priestess thanks you while looking numbly around at her fallen comrades. "What am I supposed to do now...? Should I fetch the city guard, or..."
"Yes, yes, that seems reasonable," Yargos says hurriedly. "For ourselves, we must find the man responsible for all of this, before anything else can go wrong. Best of luck with the guard, though-- Pathfinders, we have nearly seen this through! Once more into the breach?"
As you stopped the ploy to silence the hymn, Yargos says he thinks you've bought a little time. Accordingly, you can decide among yourselves the best way to approach Nessian's lair, which lies outside of the city proper, as Torch's information told you. The plain outside of Absalom is dotted with dozens of strange old siege towers and other artifacts of the many sieges that have been unsuccessfully leveled on the City at the Center of the World; the so-called "Pyramid of the Dog" is one of these, and isn't really a pyramid at all.
The sun is just climbing over the eastern horizon as you approach. The 'pyramid' was once four separate siege towers, but the three outer ones have fallen inward to the center, and are collapsed against the middle one, creating a forty-foot high wreck of masonry and timbers that Nessian and his War Hounds have appropriated for themselves.
From your hiding place some hundred or so feet away, using the rocks and rubble of the plain for cover, you can see that only one ground level door, the tower's central one, appears usable. The others have all been boarded up. Makeshift windows look out from the collapsed sub-towers.
Three hounds lie on the ground outside the tower, tethered by a ten-foot leash affixed to a wooden stake driven in. They don't appear to have caught your scent yet. You see nobody else at the moment.
Yargos huffs, the fifteen-minute walk from the cathedral to here having taken its toll on the old scholar. "Well," he manages. "How are you all going to approach?"
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Artoria hardly sees the death of the last foe as a sign that she may relax, and she begins scouring the room for any remaining undead holdouts or possibly hidden necromancers or other conspirators while the others manage the hymn.
Artoria stands, taking in the view of the tower, her eyes darting about as she contemplates the various approaches. She visibly loses her concentration when Yargos interjects. She sighs and turns to him.
"Yargos, you don't need to talk constantly. We have things well in-hand." Archimedes, still resting on her shoulders, places his wings on his hips and shakes his head vehemently in agreement.
She gathers the other Pathfinders and huddles them close, notably excluding Yargos.
"These undead are weaklings, and I doubt we can expect much better from their master. No need for complicated tactics. We charge straight for the door, cutting down whomever stands against us."
She points at the dogs with her sword, then the post they are tied to.
"Those dogs are tied up, so if we are quick enough, we may be able to avoid engaging them. That post may not hold long if they all pull at once, though, so we shall have to be careful."
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Jal gives a smirk, ”Nuair a bhíonn tú casúr, is é an domhan iomlán de tairní, eh?” He looks at Artoria, ”It means ‘when you’re a hammer, the world’s full of nails’.”
He points to the two windows on the two front sides, then at the edge they can see of the third similar side around the back of the structure … the side away from the dogs. ”I’m betting there’s a window on that far side. With a bit of patience on everyone’s part, me and Feathers,” he nudges Kara, ”could sneak around that far side and take a peak inside. Easier to take the pot when you know what cards the other player is holding.”
He looks askance at the team at the idea, but his gaze settles on Artoria. ”Can you wait ten minutes before going all Hero’s Last Stand on them?”
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Artoria stands at the ready, sword planted in the ground, her eyes closed in serene contemplation
"The correct phrasing is, 'when all you have is hammer, everything looks like a nail."
She opens her eyes and waves her hand over the party.
"We have plenty of tools. That does not change the fact that a hammer is the best tool for a nail."
She returns to her serene stance, closing her eyes once more.
"I have no intention of dying again. Besides, a hero's last stand would be a defensive posture. This would be more of a charge."
She pauses and sighs slowly.
"If the others insist on proceeding with your chicanery, I will accept it."
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"Not chicanery. Good, solid, reasonable tactics. In the event we're too obvious -- unlikely, but possible -- then you'll have a nice clear angle of attack on them while they're reacting to us. Win, win, and lose for them."
Karasuma is very much on board for the super-secret fact-finding mission!
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In the temple, Odd solemnly prayed with the Abadaran priest over the bodies of her comrades, and helped prepare them for burial as best she could during the time available. "They go now to judgment at Pharasma's hand, and then with fortune to Axis. Speak to Cora at the temple and mention I sent you; she'll waive any burial fees. They should be honored in their defense of Absalom."
***
"I stand ready for the frontal assault," Odd adds, "but will await the scouts' report."
After a reasonable amount of time has passed, Odd whispers two prayers to her goddess.
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Artoria does not move as Karasuma expresses his agreement. She finally smiles at him, a triumphant and proud smile.
"Now, now. You should be well aware by now that I am not a reasonable woman."
She begins to return to her vigil, but she stops and raises an eyebrow at Rogar after he speaks.
"I do not think that came out as wise as you intended it."
She half-grumbles, half-sighs as she unstraps her shield from her back and fastens it to her arm.
"Do as you all will. You have a few minutes before I will give our foes the honor of breaking their arrows upon a king's shield." She speaks with no judgment in her tone as she accedes to the others, though perhaps with a bit of choked disappointment.
She takes up position next to Odd and gives her a knowing nod.
"You may wish to let me take the lead when the time comes."
Jal and Kara slip around to the north side of the trifecta-- quadfecta? of towers...
Jal and Kara edge through the cover of the rubble and rocks until at last there is only about twenty feet of open ground between them and the tower itself. They can see a vague silhouette in the window, but not looking directly at them-- they take their moment, and sprint across the ground in the cool morning light, pressing themselves flat to the tower wall.
Once there, Jal begins to quietly scale the building's exterior. Kara tries to get a grip as well, but one of the beams he starts to use as a handhold crumbles under his grip, and he makes no progress.
Jal reaches the window easily. He hears the man inside the room yawning and muttering something about 'too damn early'. Sneaking a glance inside he sees a small makeshift sentry post what was formerly the top of the siege tower. A War Hound gang member is here, sitting on a rickety stool, with a loaded crossbow across his lap. The rest of the room is filled with bric-a-brac and boxes and crates, perhaps stolen goods. The thug is leaning his head against the wall, his eyes half-shut, and hasn't noticed Jal.
An open doorway is on the back wall of the room, presumably leading into the tower space beyond.
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Jal gives a final peek into the room as he muffles the mechanical sound of his spring-loaded sheath with his other wrist … and his dagger springs quietly into his palm. On his features, there is no flippancy, lost is the casual swagger, only a focused intensity remains as he watches his target.
With a single lunge, he covers the man’s mouth and jams the blade into his neck, angling it to slice cleanly through the man’s jugular and into his vocal chords.
Jal takes a few more moments to drive the blade a few more inches up into the base of the man’s brain … ensuring he’ll never botch a guard duty ever gain.
Then Jal fishes a rope from his pack, lowering it to the waiting Kara, who he waves up. When Karasuma is in the room, Jal takes a moment to stage the guard to look once again like he’s simply snoozing on the job, doing his best to cover the wash of thick lifeblood with the man’s collar.
He gives Karasuma a quick, grim smirk, then dips into the pose of an manservant ushering the tengu forward. ”After you, Feathers,” he whispers, cleaning and replacing his blade. Then he draws his long Tien blade from his back.
Jal's blade strikes with no warning. The guard doesn't even have time to scream, as the knife severs his vocal chords. Jal grabs the body so that it doesn't make particular noise as it slumps, then helps Kara up.
The two sneaky scouts are in the tower room with none the wiser, it seems. There are no cries of alarm. Peering through the half-open door at the south end of the room, they can see a cramped room with two figures at it, their backs to Kara and Jal. One is another War Hound, similar to the man they just took out. The other is a tall and well-built fellow who is dressed in a more elaborate version of the War Hound 'outfit', with a black half-cloak and many tattoos on his bared arms. He has a flail strapped to his back. The two men are looking over some sort of map, spread on a table. A narrow spiral staircase leads further down. Two other doors lead from this room.
"--nothing's gone according to plan! These stupid signals don't work," snarls the better-dressed man. "If I find old Yargos I'm going to cram this so-called code book down his throat..."
They seem oblivious to your presence so far. Scouts, what's the clever plan?
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Kara points to Jal and himself quietly, points to the other side of the doorway, and makes a 'pulling' motion from the doorway to the dead guard.
Hopefully that's universal enough that it doesn't require much in the way of interpetation.
He'd really rather not *kill* the person if it can be helped -- never know... given how shifty Yaros is, maybe this guy is on the... not very darn likely, though.
After watching Yvette and Rogar scurry up the rope and disappear into the tower unnoticed by the sentries, Artoria and Odd begin an unhurried, confident walk into the field of vision of one of the towers. They are unsurprised to hear a cry of alarm go up from the nearest tower, and in short order, an arrow is loosed!