Stam enters the room as Duristan is mocking Kroitzer.
"Mr. Ariesir, you might remember that Ms./Mrs. Kroitzer keeps the animals here and this lodge is appears to run well because of her stock of creatures. Now yes we are going to the stair and your assistance will be appreciated, we will pay but remember that you are in our employ and I will not tolerate that sort of brash behaviour."
"You employing me. Hahaha! Very funny." Duristan laughs off Stams attempt.
Spugnoir rolls his eyes. Well let us get ready for an expedition. We need to rest and recover from the battles we had. We can head out tomorrow?
"If it goes after werewolves I'm always ready."
How about you fellows? Need to to heal or anything?
It's been quite a day and legends say werewolves are stronger in the night. I say we spend the night and venture out these stairs in the morning.
"I agree, I will need to prepare some spells to help us with them, I am not sure that I am quite ready but I will make due." Stam pulls out his spell book and heads off to the room
Sounds good to me, I will rest and refresh, perhaps prep some new extracts
Waiting for your master to come back. We have some things to discuss with him about the Spider incident. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?
Spugnoir looks at the others. I believe we should wait, retire to our quarters for now, eh?
"Sounds good. It's been a trying day."
Of course, but please let inform us immediately when you next see Mr. Lozarove. We really do what to talk to him and are willing to come to wherever to do so.
RhenGrergof heads back to his room to go to sleep. Making sure to lock his door once both he and Stam are there.
"Graydon NO!" Stam stops dead at the door, calling up magical energy he armor's himself.
Spugnor curses.
Varsk, you are unarmored, I have something that can toughen your hide,
Darius grabs his sword and the dagger at the sound of the screams. They are in werewolf country after all and comes running in and see's the scene before him.
"Bloody hells!"
He crosses his sword and dagger before him and beams of light surround the wereworlf
School evocation [light]; Level bard 2, cleric/oracle 2, inquisitor 2, magus 2, sorcerer/wizard 2
CASTING
Casting Time 1 standard action
Components V, S
EFFECT
Range close (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels)
Target one creature/2 levels
Duration 1 round/level (D)
Saving Throw Reflex negates; Spell Resistance yes
DESCRIPTION
Rays of light burst forth from your outstretched hand, encircling each target’s space with a cage of light. If a target fails its Reflex save, it becomes enclosed in the light prison. A creature enclosed in a light prison can attack, cast spells, and otherwise act normally as long as it stays within the light prison. However, if a creature passes through the walls of a light prison enclosing it, it takes 1d6 points of damage and is blinded for 1 round. Creatures do not receive saves to negate these effects. Once a creature passes through the walls of a light prison surrounding it, the effect ends for that creature.
Then yells at the group. "He's not a true werewolf! He's possessed by a vilkacis! use silver if you have it!"
Grergof gets up and grabs his silver flail.
As he runs into the other room he stops as Spuginor gives him an infusion.
By Rovagug's hairy Ass, how did that get in?!?
He stops to quaff the potion and opens up his full divine senses.
IOC b]Quaff Infusion, detect Evil. Do I know anything about a Vilkacis?[/ooc]
HP 54/54
AC 16/12/14 (20/14/16 with mutagen)
Saves F7/R7/W4(6 fear) (+4 vs. Poison)
Weapon in hand:Mace+1
Special effects: Mutagen
Bombs:11/11
Let us try to subdue it! Spugnoir throws a grease bomb that is made to target just one person so it slips around.
Grease Bomb When the alchemist creates a bomb, he can choose to have it create a grease slick upon detonation. When a grease bomb detonates, it coats an area equal to the bomb’s splash radius in grease (as the grease spell) for 1 round per level. The DC of the Reflex save to avoid falling after a failed Acrobatics check is equal to 10 + 1/2 the alchemist’s level + the alchemist’s Intelligence modifier. A grease bomb can’t affect items or armor.
Stam thrusts his left hand out, "I hope not to kill the man below."
I'll stand ready to stabilize him and restrain.
Grergof focuses on the creature before him and grips his flail.
No promises... he softly says to his companions.
Then he charges forward stating:
Creature I am the servant of the Lady of Dawn! You will be destroyed.
Then he Swings at the beast with his silver flail.
Werecorvin is badly hurt with the damage from Grergof's hit on top. He turns on Grergof.
Grergof replies with a series of flail blows on the creature.
Then he prays for strength.
Grergof finishes off the creature. It returns to the normal Corvin Tergsvor which is now beaten to a pulp and dead.
Grergof fights against the ghost.
Kill it or trap it, Before it possesses someone else!
"This night is not getting better, I am going to need longer to sleep tomorrow."
Stam calls upon the same powers and using his inner strength to help him out.
"I don't think we will capture this alive."
Dang it, I need a magic flail.... but maybe:
Dawnbringer grant your blessing in your servant!
The silver flail suddenly glows with light.
Spugnoir pulls out a vial of holy water and gets ready to dump it on the ghost
Darius grins and light erupts from him into the room at the ghostly creature.
Well...Spugnoir was always vulnerable to being bossed around.
So this is what Feral Mutagen is like
I'm going to feed your face to my parakeet!
I need my dagger! Use silver but don't hit hard. Each hit might drive the spirit out but the damage goes to Mr Spugnoir!
Then a Grergof moves over and smacks Spuginor with his silver Mace, but for non lethal damage.
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon against self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't, ah fie, 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead, nay not so much, not two, So excellent a king, that was, to this Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the wings of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth, Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him, As if the increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet within a month - Let me think not on't; frailty, thy name is woman - A little month, or ere these shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she - O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason Would have mourned longer - married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules. Within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her gall'd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not, nor it cannot come to good. But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
"Who's a thought that Spugnoir could talk even more when possessed. Don't worry Spugs, we'll save you!"
Darius tackles Spugnoir and presses his Silver holy symbol of Iomedae to his forehead.
"I have the silver blanche but it would take a few minutes to heat it up, we could just pour it on his head or something."
Stam says staying well back of the crazed Alchemist.