Bjorkus undoes the stopper on the potion and takes a whiff.
Bjorkus can't quite tell what the potion is.
Bjorkus shrugs and redoes the stopper.
”I can’t figure it out. All I smell right now is blood and ogre shit.”
Relieved to finally see their foes vanquished, Dalton has but a moment to feel ... powerful ... before he was reminded of his place by Tiasar. "A sorceress? Ill omens indeed." Dalton quickly recounts Gelrick and the alchemical contraptions - though he does leave out the cupcakes. More for me that way. "We've nearly had our hides skinned by an ogre - and a drow." He knew the hatred between the races, and he hoped the embers would push Tiasar to send help or at least increase their compensation. I'm not getting any younger doing this!
"Ah yes, the blood." Dalton had nearly forgotten. It was rumored the blood of Drow was a powerful substance though. They did have natural command over some basic magic. Perhaps the alchemist didn't need all of it...
Dalton aids in exsanguinating the drow - every last drop.
Tiasar narrows his eyes. "Drow aren't a race to get involved just for money. Keep your eyes out for any trickery on their part, I'm sure they'll try to twist this to their advantage."
As Dalton examines the magic items, he identifies the clear potion as a Potion of Invisibility (CL 3), identifies the purple liquid as Drow Poison (injury; save Fort DC 13; frequency 1/minute for 2 minutes; initial effect unconsciousness for 1 minute; secondary effect unconsciousness for 2d4 hours; cure 1 save), and the scrolls stump him initially, but after a few minutes of referring to his books and notes he identifies them as Scrolls of Lesser Restoration.
Bjorkus retrieves Lindale’s wand, mends his wounded leg, and then returns it to the drow.
”How you feelin’ Toramin? Ya don’t look so well.”
"Honestly, I feel like shit. That shadow somehow robbed me of my strength with his touch. I'll need some sort of restorative magic before I'll be much good in a fight. Can I please have some of that wand as well?"
Bjorkus taps the dwarf with the wand before handing it back to its owner.
"I suggest we stop and rest a bit but there's people dyin' up there. We've gotta keep movin'."
"Thanks. You are right. We need to save our army. Maybe we will find a healer who can restore me. I had hoped that that priestess had some magical gewah that could reverse the effects of the Shadow. Did you find anything like that, Master Dalton?"
"How fortunate. It seems these scrolls would be just the ticket to reverse your affliction, Toramin." Dalton speaks in a matter-of-fact tone, more interested in getting out of this place. Except for one thing. "The variety of magic upon the scroll is not my specialty though. Perhaps our Drow would be a better candidate."
Dalton instead works at getting as much blood out of the Drow as he can. An idea comes to his mind. "I could summon the force disk once more. Its natural concavity will allow us to accumulate her fluids. Butchering her upon it would be much more efficient than ... wringing her out into some bottle."
"A clever stratagem, Master Dalton, her blood might save countless lives. We need to open that gate so that we may speak with that wicked man again."
Given enough time and Dalton's understanding of the scrolls, Lindale has no problem feeling confident enough to cast the magic inscribed upon them.
As his rapier stabbed through the air when the shadow fled into the walls Bjorkus flew past towards the Noble. Lindale turned to see her fall, head already rolling. Damn it. He didn't care that he had been fighting her. Drow fought Drow often enough. He wished they could have learnt more from her. "Those restoration scrolls can return the strength that the shadow creature stole from you Toramin yes. Stand still while I complete the prayers. They were likely created by evil creatures of my race so some of the phrases you may not agree with. Still the effect shall be the same as any spell of it's kind. Shall I proceed? Lindale uses as many of the scrolls as Toramin asks for.
"Do you have a way to keep the blood good or are you planning on wasting more time trying to talk to that mad man instead of killing him? Seems like there will be a lot of trouble if we don't get those gates open."
As an after thought he glances at the purple liquid.
"Can I have the poison Dalton? A noble does not likely craft her own. I may be able to trace this back and give us some leads that may prove useful."
Psotheos recovers his arrows while the rest of his companions heal themselves and investigate the drow’s possessions. Once the exsanguination begins, he helps Dalton and Toramin with the process, becoming fairly unnecessary with magic being used.
Hearing the information about Nuro’s sorceress, Psotheos thinks about who it could be.
”If we don’t bring the blood to that madman there may be even more trouble.”
"Here is what I suggest. Continue on. Open the gate house. Make contact with our army. Give them our prisoner. Then we return with the blood to get the cure."
Toramin is going to do exactly what he suggested. He is going to fill water-skins with the blood and then head up the ladder. He will do it both efficiently and quickly.
At the top of the ladder is a manhole without a cover, and as you peak your head up you see the sun has fallen. The wall is to your west and south, telling you that you're at the southwestern edge of the inner city. You look south to see the guardhouse with a few tents out front, then you look east and you see a group of 5 soldiers not 10 feet from you drinking and telling stories around a fire. As you pay attention to your surroundings, you see more tents and can hear more soldiers inside of them. They haven't appeared to notice you yet.
Stealth will be an impossible task. The harder way is the only way.
Ducking back inside, Toramin informs the group what they are facing. Then it is back up the ladder. Toramin moves to right beside (to the west of) the nearest guard (so that there will be the most amount of guard to hit with AoO.)
He will strike that guard.
AoO on the first guard in range who tries to stand up.
12+4+5+8+17+11=57. 57/6=9.5
295/25=11.8
Clambering after the dwarf, Bjorkus muscles his way up the ladder and brings his big axe to bear against the unprepared guards.
Toramin and Bjorkus close the distance before anybody sees them, both dropping a soldier before they can even stand. The soldiers initial confusion fades and the captain begins barking out orders, and you see soldiers begin flooding out of the tents, along with a wizard from the northernmost tent. Most of them spend their time getting their weapons and getting out of their tents, but the ones who were sitting at the fire retaliate. The one sitting closest to Toramin stands with his longsword already in hand, shield forgotten at his feet but his armor manages to protect him from Toramins blow. He lunges forward and Toramin feels the metal rattle across his ribs, but he cuts no deeper than flesh. The captain comes forward with a greatsword, but Toramin turns a shoulder and the sword doesn't pierce the thick metal. The last soldier at the fire stands and begins walking around, facing Bjorkus, approaching the bull cautiously.
Toramin falls into a defensive stance, the more time these soldiers took to wear at him, the less they could do against his fellows.
As the rest of the party makes it above ground, Bjorkus lets loose a bellowing roar while stepping into a position to shield the back rank from the approaching soldiers.
Hearing that there are Xilres soldiers above the young noble readies his longbow and not the magical one they found below. Psotheos rolls out of the manhole and gains his feet next to a soldier. He draws one of his sleep arrows and noticing the wizard, fires it at him.
"Dalton. The invisibility potion please." Lindale will drink it when it is handed to him and head towards the wizard.
Dalton quickly fishes-out the recently gathered potion of invisibility. He pops the cork and thrusts it into the hands of the vial. "Here!"
From one battle to another. Well, I suppose I did want to see a glimpse of war firsthand. The wizard keeps to himself, moving out of the fray. His energy was mostly spent for the day, and he wanted to survey the field a moment.
Seeing the wizard go down so quickly Lindale focuses on making sure he stays there. He casts Daze on the soldier next to him.
The party takes action, working to drop all the soldiers. Bjorkus runs to his back line and raises his head, bellowing out a war cry that inspires his side and strikes fear into the soldiers, daring them to strike at his weaker allies. Toramin's hammer sounds the fall of another man, clutching at his broken sternum. Arjax dextrously flips out of the hole and drops to a knee, taking out a softly glowing arrow and letting it fly into the wizards left arm, and after a moment of stumbling his eyes roll up into his head and he drops to the ground, unconscious. Gabriel steps forward and thrusts at a soldier attacking Toramin, but his blade finds no purchase against the scale mail. Lindale casts a spell, and one of the soldiers blinks and steps back, unable to focus.
The soldiers begin their retaliation, coming down with all their force. They begin closing in and surrounding the party, numbers and positioning proving to be a powerful tool. Gabriel takes the first wound, his leg spilling blood down his armor onto the street. Toramin finds the soldiers on either side of him working together efficiently. The one in back yells, grabbing his attention while the one in front stabs him in the arm. Toramin whips back around to defend himself, only to have the soldier behind him take advantage and cut his shoulder. Toramin catches his error and deflects the third blow aimed at him, but it's requiring a lot of concentration to fight off three foes at once. Neither wound is particularly deep, but the soldier's training is showing as they surround and pick off a superior foe. At the backline Bjorkus easily sidesteps a blow, but another soldiers slips past him and delivers a wide slash across Arjax's face, starting at the left temple and ending just under his right ear. The nobleman feels his pulse rate increase as the blade just misses his eye.
Enraged that one would dare to approach and wound the young noble, Bjorkus turns his bovine fury on him. Pumping back with his trunk-like arms, the bull takes a vicious swipe at the foolish guard.