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Daisley allows the smooth vocals of the Artist Formerly Known as Cudak to awaken a deep-seated anger.
She uses The Artist Formerly Known as Cudak as cover to start with, but has to duck down the last step of her movement to avoid an attack from the creature.
She faces the cloud of ooze.
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Unfortunately, Daisley is not as acrobatic as she is heroic, and she is not able to avoid a touch from the fog.
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak snarls before continuing his terrible song and also tries to acrobatics down.
His clawed hands flip the hammer around to the sharp side, and recklessly swing at the horrible ooze.
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Thankfully, the Fog does not have combat reflexes!
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak attacks recklessly and the fog dissipates, revealing another creature inside, a rotting, putrid, corpse-like woman with glowing red eyes!
She smiles hungrily at Daisley and The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak.
1. Most famous special attack
2. DR
3. GM choics of something interesting.
su-su- oooze… …a wight! she'll drain your energy!
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Also. this woman looks like she was not originally human, you may make a Kn: Local if you’d like to know more.
So… an undead green hag wight floating in an false fog ooze filled with ghost faces… …not even the Murderfist of Pop has lyrics for you, lady.
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak hefts his hammer and continues his slimy cover song.
I do know the outro will contain superficially good feelings, and splat.
Honaire wafts around Daisley. The ectoplasm on her shoulders reaches out for his form as he passes.
"Back. Back!."
He swings his translucent sword at the hag.
Mirroring Honaire, the other ghostly sword appears at the hag's side and lashes out.
"Hmph. You'd think I could spot a fake by now."
Estra digs into her robes for her sling, loads a bullet, and sends it whistling towards the woman.
Honaire’s blade passes right through the wight!
The spiritual weapon swings and misses.
The wight shambles forward and tries to slam Daisley! But misses.
Undeterred, she says:
”Hee hee hee hee!”
Daisley
Estra
Gorf
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak
The wight
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak scowls at het tittering laugh and swings at her with reckless abandon!
That's not very nice!
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Enraged by the innocuous music, Daisley nearly hacks the wight in half with one hit. She finishes the task with the second hit, and the wight, cackling all the way, collapses at Dasiley’s feet.
"Quite the racket and smell," she says, casting a critical eye over Gorf's musket. "Though I do admit there's something pleasing about it. Hmm."
She shuffles over to the wight, dispelling the floating longsword with a dismissive flick of her fingers. She pokes the fallen figure with the tip of her cane. "'Join us my dear. I’ll offer you what I offered her.' I imagine she referred to the woman who appeared on the balcony? Was this," another jab with the cane, "offering immortality through undeath?" She shares an uncomfortable glance with Honaire.
"Let's help prevent any future offers, eh dear?" Estra closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
Honaire's outline writhes and shimmers. There's the soft puff of ectoplasmic feet settling on grass.
He puts a cold hand on The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak's shoulder. "You have talent, to move the half-dead." An ephemeral, melancholy smile swims across the phantom's face.
"And you." He nods stoically at Daisley. "Would that there were more like you in Isger." There's steel in his muted voice.
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Daisley's breathing slows, and she regains her normal solemn expression.
"The world would be better off if there were fewer." She touches her armor right where her holy symbol of Sarenrae rests underneath. "Ugly business, this. No chance of redemption or true justice. Just slaughter."
She spends a few minutes to clean her sword carefully, ensuring that not a single speck of gore goes into the sheath. She does a slightly more cursory wipedown of her armor, though making sure that her Wayfinder is clean.
She pats the Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tangaren on the shoulder. "Nice work, there. I think that if we plan things out, we can really cover each other's movements. You too, Honaire. May I make a few suggestions?" She demonstrates some defensive stances and footwork intended to help an ally move around.
The party returns to the entrance hall.
The door in the eastern wall slides open to reveal a small room with a single wooden chair in the center.
The other door to the north slides open to reveal a once formal dining hall in Tian fashion.
Two long, low dining tables run parallel in the center of this room, surrounded by the tattered remains of once-ornate seating mats. Iron lanterns hang from the ceiling but are dark now.
The stench of death is particularly cloying.
The corpse of a man hangs suspended from a lantern in the center of the room.
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak stalks into the room and inspects the body.
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As The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak approaches the body, his stalking is accompanied by crunching underneath his boots. A swarm of flies litters the floor, having abruptly dropped dead in midair.
Estra follows the others in. "Charming." She waves a hand towards the hanging corpse.
Honaire's now-corporeal feet also make a crunching path towards the body. He circles around the hanged man and stops across from The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak.
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak detects for magic.
A traveling merchant, bitten, mummified… but not dead for so long.
"Does your insight extend to flies?"
Cudak doesn’t detect anything magical. Estra detects for undead but doesn’t notice anything.
Honaire ain’t got no idea.
But Estra...
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Estra joins the others by the body. "Hrm, that explains the lack of bloodstains. This gentleman was exsanguinated. Drier than an Ossiriani satire." She clucks her tongue. "But only within the last few weeks..."
The door to the north leads to a Tian style meeting room.
The eastern portion of this L-shaped room has a raised floor where a finely crafted wooden chair—almost a throne—sits. A half-dozen faded woven mats litter the floor. A small low table—another fine piece of furniture—rests tipped on its side. Scattered on the floor are the broken remains of a porcelain tea set. On the walls hang empty racks where commemorative weapons used to hang in places of honor.
There is a Tian symbol scratched into the western wall.
A door on the north east opens onto a cliffside balcony.
This area is open to the outside but sheltered by the roof two stories above. A simple waist-high metal railing separates this patio from the cliffside to the north. The night air is damp and chilly.
On the northern side, a few serviceable chairs rest near a large free-standing brass telescope aimed at the heavens. Along the southern walls, broken statues of foo dogs and other mythological animals litter the floor.
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak pulls out a drumstick and plays a solo in the air before bopping himself on the thigh.
He reads the word scrawled on the wall.
LIARS!
The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak investigates, circling the room and looking out the balcony.
Id nothing seems amiss, he sits in the throne (where he belongs) to ponder the situation.
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Looking out onto the balcony from the doorway, The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak doesn’t notice anything unusual. There is a nice shiny telescope and some broken statues waiting to be further investigated.
The throne-like chair is very comfortable, due to its fine craftsmanship. It’s not hard for The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak to imagine Minasako sitting there and discussing events with members of the Way of the Kirin.
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