"Well done Willow and Sir Gallen. Test one of nine down. So following is for fools. Let's see what is in this next test."
Willow gave a defeated "Ok..." when Hel mentioned the viability of her disguise. With a slight mental flex, her form shifted to a more normal looking halfling dressed as a Mitran guard; complete with big, hairy feet.
Searching through the chamber, she pointed to the door. "Trap," she said, and pointed. "Don't get within ten feet of that door."
"Let's not jump to conclusions just yet. We should be wary of traps and deceptions. There might be more than one exit." Gallen studied the area carefully while the others gathered watching for traps or secret doors.
"Hmm," Wesh muses as he reads the latest riddle. He pulls out his unholy symbol of Asmodeus and says, "Perhaps we should have these out when we proceed? We can demonstrate our reverence for Asmodeus by bearing these."
Once discussion begins to wind down, Wesh adds, "I can go first when we're ready. No need for all of us to take the risk at once, and I'm probably the most likely to survive should something go wrong."
Willow looked down the path that Gallen had found, as Wesh offered to go first. She doubted the first room would be cruel enough to have traps before the secret door, but that was just one extra reason to be careful.
Hel lifts the jewel between herself and the lantern in the first room, eyeing the pale-blue-lit crystal. "Hm. Interesting." She drops her gaze, seeing Sir Gallen open up the other secret passageway, and nods slightly, moving her hand to her pouch to tuck the alchemical ice away. It'll be at hand, but she won't have it cluttering up her grip.
Take 10 on Craft (alchemy, +7) will let her succeed on the DC 15 to identify the alchemical ice.
"Deception is a tool. Deceive always thy enemy," reminds Hel from the back. "Let's keep the disguises on and the Archstars away." She eyes the engraven words above the next door and drawls, "Well, go on and open it, let's see what we have to work with."
After his mundane search, Lutor seeks magical auras.
"Good work, Sir Gallen, and a useful find, Hel."
"We should most certainly maintain these disguises. There is little reason not to. We should continue seeking the less obvious options, that the masses would rush for."
Lutor examines the door, seeking auras.
Lutor finds no magical auras about the door, nor does Willow find any traps. Sir Gallen opens the door to the room, revealing another 30-foot by 30-foot stone chamber lit by a single lantern hanging from the cieling. This one has 4 doors, each facing a Cardinal Direction. You are entering through the north door. The entire room seems strangely cold, you can see a small amount of frost has accumulated on the lantern's glass panes. The eastern and southern doors appear to be normal doors, but the western door is covered in a strange, pulsating violet mold. The floor is covered in dirt and dust
You notice the footsteps of a dozen people going from the door you entered through to the southern and eastern doors.
This violet mold is more commonly found in underground climes. It feeds on warmth and is likely the source of the strange temperature drop in this room. Anyone who comes within 5 feet of it will feel the heat leech out of her body as the cold seeps in, tiring them. Despite common thought that fire will get rid of it, fire brought close to it will cause it to double in size, further expanding into the room and making it much more dangerous. It instead must be frozen off through either magical or alchemical means.
Willow looked past those ahead of her to see into the frosty room. She wrinkled her brow in thought, then her eyes went wide with sudden realization. "Mold!" she said. "If you get close it'll sap away your body heat... It's gotta be frozen to kill it. Once we kill it the room should be safe enough." She paused a moment to gesture to the footprints. "Oh, and I'm guessing we shouldn't follow those."
"Good eyes, Willow. I believe that we must freeze this mould away, or suffer a grim fate past the southern or eastern doors. While I do not have any cold spells currently memorised, I can nonetheless create cold through a great expenditure of magic. However, this will reduce my resources for future encounters. I will do so if no other means of freezing the mould are available to us."
Hel looks in past the shoulders of those ahead of her, listening to the observations of the others, and glances up again at the lesson displayed on the arch above this door. "A useful tool indeed," she murmurs, fishing in her pouch for the blue gem from the last room. "Willow, you're a better thrower than me; toss this at it. Alchemical ice, from the last room." She hands the crystal past Cole to the halfling.
"We were fortunate to search and find the vile in the last room. The Liquid ice should do. I'm sure it was put there for us to find and use for this. If we had cold magic it would have been a bonus prize, but best not be greedy. I say we throw it at the mold."
Ah. *That* is what she found. I did not know it was alchemical ice. Next time, I shall ask.
"In that case, the alchemical ice will prove a wiser use of resources."
Willow takes the alchemical ice and tosses it at the mold. It shatters instantly upon contact, and the violet mold withers and dies, falling to the ground in a fine black powder. The room immediately begins to feel warmer. Beneath the mold, carved into the door, are the words, "Thou hast made thy own path."
The door has no traps and is unlocked, so you are able to open it and reveal a u-shaped corridor that ends in another plain wooden door with the inscription, "Know thy enemy. Shatter all that blinds you and then burn thy adversary to ash."
"Fortune," says Hel somewhat clinically, "favors the prepared. We searched, so we found. Willow has previously read books and listened to the wisdom of others, and shared her knowledge, so we know. And so for 'fortune'."
The question of whether or not they should use the vial seems to be, for her, rhetorical at best, and pointless at worst; of course it should be used. Clearly it was placed to be used. Therefore, use it appropriately.
Upon seeing the mould disintegrate, Lutor nods with approval.
"Excellent. Our efforts are starting to combine well."
On the sight of the next saying, he quips:
"The sayings are turning to be somewhat literal. Perhaps we will need to shatter mirrors. And should something need to be burned, I can provide *that*."
The elf is utterly confident in his particular combination of abilities when it comes to burning his foes to ash.
"Shatter something that binds you, that could be chains... if we are fortunate this does not lead to a confrontation with a chain devil we must best and burn."
"Blinds Sir Gallen, blinds. Lutor is correct the sayings are literal so far. A mirror directing light to blind us, we won't know until we open the door. Burn to ash though. Maybe something weak to fire just like the mold was to cold." He pulls out an alchemist fire.
"Does anyone need one? I brought five. Since it does say enemy it is best to be prepared." He looks to Hel approvingly.
"They have been literal since the start," Hel observes to Lutor's quip. "My mother always said that a physical manifestation of a concept will teach the new initiate better than a philosophical ideal -- to which," she adds, "my father would add that a philosophical argument would teach the old master better than a physical manifestation. In this situation, I think my mother's advice is more applicable. We are, after all, new initiates being taught nine lessons, are we not?
"And while anticipation is wise, attempting to anticipate without any sort of knowledge of our opponent," and here she will nod acknowledgement to Cole's preparation, "is fumbling in the dark for an item that might not be there, and as valuable -- naught but wildly guessing. One can only prepare properly with good information. Shall we acquire that information, and open the door?"
The difference in word choice -- between 'enemy' and 'opponent' -- is important, here; Hel, you see, has her own mental framework for encounters -- yes, and the vasty vague future towards which the six of them go under the guidance of Cardinal Thorn -- and knows full well that the destruction of Talingarde is liable to focus on its government and the Mitrans that control it, not (she hopes) on the common people who do the majority of the real work. They may be opponents, but they are not enemies; a subtle difference, perhaps, but an important one that may have long-term effects. There undoubtedly will be enemies, however, and the most fanatic of the Mitrans, those of the Fire Undying, are certainly going to be some of them; she'll be particularly pleased to deliver unto them the treatment she received at their hands ... even if she did manage to escape. But the common folk are not her foes until they make themselves such, and even then they shall only be opponents ... until they make themselves true enemies by repeated hate.
"So let's see what we have to work with. Wesh," she adds, "will you please put your Archstar away?? It looks a little odd on the chest of a Talirean soldier."
Wesh has mostly been listening during his companions' conversations. He's not exactly happy with the challenges they've faced so far. He was really hoping at least one of the challenges would be someone that he could take his sword to. That kind of challenge is precisely what the fighter is well-suited for.
"Yes, yes," Wesh says absently at Hel's words. He almost leaves the Archstar out, if only to encourage whoever they encounter to fight them, but he does eventually put it away. He adjusts his greatsword's position on his shoulder and shuffles his feet as they move through the u-shaped corridor.
At the latest riddle, Wesh says, "I suppose someone should toss an alchemist's fire at it or something similar. Probably best to use a resource that's easy to come by, rather than a spell or something similar. I hope we'll have need of them for more dangerous challenges ahead."
Wesh readies to pass through the latest door should it burn away as expected. He doesn't say it explicitly, but he definitely wants to get the first shot at any obvious enemy they encounter. He's ready for a fight.
"It is speculation indeed, Hel, but one may have to act quickly on imperfect information, and it can be useful to anticipate possibilities. That said, I too would prefer superior information, so let us open this door."
Lutor readies himself.
Sir Gallen opens the door, revealing only darkness - unnatural darkness. The light from the hallway should at least spill in enough to make it dim, but it does not, instead seeming to end in a solid wall of inky blackness.
You see that the floor of the room looks to be covered in some kind of grating with regular holes in it. Hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room is a lantern - it looks to be lit, but whatever is causing the darkness is blocking the light. In the center of the room is a pedestal with an orb atop it. There is a door on the north wall and a door on the east wall. Both are barred - with the bar inside the room.
Cole scans the room with his darkvision and reports what he sees. He will take just a moment to cast detect magic to confirm what he believes.
"It seems there is an orb on a pedestal. I believe like an ever-burning torch this Orb has darkness instead of light. We could collect it, but the words did say shatter. I suggest we stick to the words and destroy it. I don't see an enemy, but the room floor is a grate. It is possible we will be swarmed by something which explains why the fire will help to burn it away."
With that said Cole uses the sleeves of many garments to change into a swarm suit, yet keeps his disguise as a soldier.
Lutor puts a hand up to stop the others and quietly comments.
"There are doors on the north and east walls, both barred from this side. The floor is covered in a grating with regular-spaced holes. A lit lantern hangs from the ceiling in the centre of the room. Something is surrounding that lantern and is blocking that light. Below that, is a pedestal topped by an orb. Willow, can you see where to throw some alchemical fire, or shall I?"
The orb does not look to be attached - it is mereley resting on the pedestal, and would probably shatter if it was shoved off.
Cole relays the information
"The orb can be shoved off the pedestal and would shatter allowing the lantern to light the room. If we follow the words of the door it should draw the enemy out as well and we can begin to burn it with fire. It is in the center. I can step and thrust it off with my spear when we are ready."
If no one objects Cole can take a 5' step in and reach the center with his longspear. Knocking the orb off.
Lutor also switches his attire to that of a swarm suit.
"I will ready one of those alchemical fire for throwing. I advise others do likewise."
Willow slumped her shoulders at the wall of impenetrable darkness, and shook her head at Lutor's question. "You'll have to throw it, I can't see a thing until someone shatters that thing-that-blinds-us orb."
Lacking or swarmsuit, or sleeves like Cole's, Willow simply readied her hand crossbow and prepared to stay out of the way. Sometimes being a good member of a team meant knowing when to hang back and let the more capable handle a given situation. "By all means, smash away," she said to Cole.
Hel squints slightly at the darkness in front of her. "Ow," she comments, as though looking into a too-bright light. "That ... that actually kind of hurts. By all means, whomever can see it, break it."
Gallen readies his scimitar to strike at any foe that comes within range while he waits to see the result of Cole's manipulations.
Cole steps 5' into the room and pushed the orb off with his spear.
Anyhow.
Wesh stares intently at the blackness, but can't see through it no matter how hard he tries. He growls in frustration, but forces himself to wait on the edge of the darkness.
He keeps his greatsword ready. The fighter hopes to find something to hit once light is restored to the room.
"I'll just stay here till you get the lights back on. Not like I can do much else."
Cole steps into the room and gives the orb a push with his longspear. It falls from the pedestal, shattering, immediately ending the magical darkness spell. The room is revealed, and everyone can see the grate in the floor, as well as the pedestal and the shards of a black sphere made of volcanic glass. They can see the doors to the North and East, both barred, with the bar on the inside, where they can easily remove it now that the darkness has gone.
Looking past the others, Hel keeps her arrow nocked and ready to draw, the second arrow held by her other fingers and ready to be put to string; her eyes flick across the scene, taking in the grate -- and especially that around Cole, since he's now standing on it.
"The words remain to be quite literal. Ready your FIRE."
Cole simply delays as there is no threat yet.
Ranged Touch if it can be critically hit
Fire
Fire
Looking past the others, Hel keeps her arrow nocked and ready to draw, the second arrow held by her other fingers and ready to be put to string; her eyes flick across the scene, taking in the grate -- and especially that around Cole, since he's now standing on it.
"The words remain to be quite literal. Ready your FIRE." Cole says, waiting to see what threat emerges.
A red misty liquid emerges from the grate in front of Cole, seeming to speak in a strange, harsh tongue.
This is a Vampiric Mist. It is an amorphous creature that has some resistance to normal weapons, but is weak to flame. Magic weapons affect it normally. It feeds by touching a target, and then draining blood from its body, weakening it and leaving it bleeding. If it drains enough blood, it can kill its target.
When it feeds, it recovers its wounds and can sometimes be invigorated by the drain, allowing it to move more quickly than normal.
Hel looses both arrows at the mist, which appear to hit but do nothing to the creature. It extends a red tendril towards Cole.
Cole, fortunately, is able to avoid the tendril. He studies the creature and throws his alchemist's fire at the mist. It explodes, and the thing seems to scream in pain. However, because it was right next to him, he is splashed by his alchemist's fire.
? - 28/44
Willow had little time to look around before the red mist rose up from the grate. She didn't understand its words...but the fact that it spoke was enough to kindle her recognition. "RED MIST!" She cried out, knowing it by the name her family had used. There was genuine fear in her tone. "Burn it, burn it now! Weapons barely hurt it, and don't let it touch you -- it eats your blood and heals itself!
Thinking quick, she leveled her crossbow on the lantern atop the pedestal. She held her shot, having no idea how quick the mist would burn or how large the conflagration would be. "Cole, out! I got the lantern!"
Wesh grinds his teeth as the Red Mist emerges.
Why can't we just find a nice flesh-and-blood opponent to fight. Is that too much to ask?
Not having any fire on his person, Wesh elects to try injuring it with his greatsword, even knowing what he does about the creature.
He glances back at his companions and says, "Fire or throw at the thing if you must. I'll live."
Then he takes a step forward and swings his sword at the Vampiric Mist.
In a cool voice, Lutor notes:
"Vampiric mist. Mundane weapons are slow to harm it. Magic weapons or fire are the best methods, as soon demonstrated."
With a swift flick of his wrist, Lutor tosses the vial of alchemist's fire at the mist.
Damage can be healed.
Gallen waits til after Cole and Willow have finished attacking the creature and moves forward swinging at it with his sword.
"Well," says Hel as her hand drops to the quiver she wears upon her right thigh, to extract and lift two more arrows, "so long as it's slow and not cannot." This time she overdraws her weapon, putting a bit more 'oomph' into it before releasing. The fat trio of pint-sized scored-glass phials full of acid clink against each other on her left hip as they twist with the release, each of the three looped individually to a cord depending from her belt.
I think that threat hits, though I'm not sure.
Seeing her first arrow sink in and seem to really stick, Hel does the same with her second shot, but her technique is not as good as it might be, and on her release she pulls the shot awry. "Crap," she says mildly, phials still clinking against each other, and anger at herself flickers in her gaze. That was not acceptable, she thinks.
Wesh grinds his teeth as the Red Mist emerges. Why can't we just find a nice flesh-and-blood opponent to fight. Is that too much to ask? Not having any fire on his person, Wesh elects to try injuring it with his greatsword, even knowing what he does about the creature. He glances back at his companions and says, "Fire or throw at the thing if you must. I'll live." Then he takes a step forward and swings his sword at the Vampiric Mist. His powerful blow strikes the mist, but isn't as effective as it normally is.
In a cool voice, Lutor notes, "Vampiric mist. Mundane weapons are slow to harm it. Magic weapons or fire are the best methods, as soon demonstrated." With a swift flick of his wrist, Lutor tosses the vial of alchemist's fire at the mist. Damage can be healed. Unfortunately, his throw is somewhat off target, splashing the ground beneath the mist and only lightly damaging it.
Willow had little time to look around before the red mist rose up from the grate. She didn't understand its words...but the fact that it spoke was enough to kindle her recognition. "RED MIST!" She cried out, knowing it by the name her family had used. There was genuine fear in her tone. "Burn it, burn it now! Weapons barely hurt it, and don't let it touch you -- it eats your blood and heals itself!" Thinking quick, she leveled her crossbow on the lantern atop the pedestal hanging from the cieling. She held her shot, having no idea how quick the mist would burn or how large the conflagration would be. "Cole, out! I got the lantern!"
"Well," says Hel as her hand drops to the quiver she wears upon her right thigh, to extract and lift two more arrows, "so long as it's slow and not cannot." This time she overdraws her weapon, putting a bit more 'oomph' into it before releasing. The fat trio of pint-sized scored-glass phials full of acid clink against each other on her left hip as they twist with the release, each of the three looped individually to a cord depending from her belt. Seeing her first arrow sink in and seem to really stick, Hel does the same with her second shot, but her technique is not as good as it might be, and on her release she pulls the shot awry. "Crap," she says mildly, phials still clinking against each other, and anger at herself flickers in her gaze. That was not acceptable, she thinks. Her first arrow didn't sink in as much as she thought, though.
The creature seems enraged by the fire, again extending a tendril towards Cole, who had hit it with some the hated flame.
Yet again, the mist proves incapable of contacting the Asmodean Inquisitor. The mist pulses angrily before descending through the small holes in the grate below.
A careful study of the grate shows the holes to be 1" in diameter, making it possible to still attack the creature if one has the right weapon.
Vampiric Mist - 16/44
Cole watches the mist descend. He draws another of his alchemist vials of fire and readies for the creature to come back up. He smiles though as he watches it still burn down bellow.
Fire