Dalton furrows his brow. Rude? I think not! He didn't care for their host's tone. Though he was lowborn, Dalton didn't make a reputation for himself as a man to be trifled with.
As the beast runs past him, he casts a glance to the blue substance. What is that?
Just a glance though. His gaze turned red-hot at the antipaladin. So, he hoped, would his weapon. Let's see if Shen's trick works...
Bjorkus, still chanting, moves to enter the melee but pauses to consider the contents of the crate adjacent to him.
Bjorkus scoops up the book. He didn't much care about the contents. Reading always bored him. What he was after was a reaction…
Psotheos tries for another shot, but the towering figure catches it on his tower shield. He waits patiently, like a lion being struck by bees, then suddenly twists around and swings his axe sideways, beheading a soldier and continuing the blow to bury his axe a foot deep in the side of the next soldier. He grins, then gets a confused look on his face. He jerks his left arm up and swears explosively, throwing his tower shield to the ground, and you see his gauntlet is glowing red hot. The men roar their anger at their fallen comrades, but their morale is lowering. One of them starts trembling and even drops his weapon. The Aasimar turns slightly to check the position of the bull behind him, then turns completely around. "Hey! That book is ancient, put it down before you ruin it!"
Bjorkus snorts in disinterest and holds the book aloft and behind him. He’d touched a nerve. That was good. This guy was dangerous and getting him upset could cause him to make a mistake.
The half-minotaur shuffles back on his hooves, toward the small stream of magma. He pauses his resounding chant long enough to taunt the aasimar.
”This book? Looks like something I’d wipe my ass with. Maybe I should just get rid of it…”
Gabriel glances at Toramin and nods, then moves around to get behind the man. His damned armor was to heavy for him to get completely around, but it probably protected him from the worst of the blows coming from the man. Scooting around the horridly mutated man, he watches Toramin step up and break apart the club with relative ease. After the last blow he had given the man, it seemed Toramin was gathering momentum, cause Gabriel was almost certain that strike against the club had been even stronger then the one that had hit the man in the gut and audibly cracked his ribs. Gabriel wasn't certain he could match his dwarven friends prowess, but he steps up directly behind the mutant to try it any, taking advantage of the Dwarves reach to put the man between the two of their strikes. He was also close enough that, with the Drow's help, they could stop the man from replacing his weapon easily.
Bjorkus awkwardly holds his massive axe at the defensive.
"Come and get it."
Lindale moves to flank and now that the giant man has lost his weapon moves in to attack.
Toramin takes his hammer to the top of the club and completely splinters it, leaving nothing but a few bloody gashes in the mans hands. Gabriel leaves a nasty gash on the freaks calf, and he turns with his beady eyes full of anger. At the same time Lindale comes at his backside and swings his weapon hard at his ankles, and the giant trips, falling over. The thing finally loses its patience, reaching over with its meaty hands and dragging Gabriel down into a death embrace.
He is a wicked one, Gabriel! The very stones groan beneath his feet. Call upon your goddess!"
That blasted drow! If only he ever listened to orders, this monster wouldn't have even been able to see the boy!
Gabriel gasps when he feels himself pulled down and immediately begins struggling to break free of the monsters grip. He hears Toramin's words, but doesn't truly comprehend their meaning. Call on Iomedae? He wished he could do something like that right now. The tiefling struggles in vain against the large, mutated mans muscles and strength. He could feel his armor pressing uncomfortably into his body and felt like his body was being crushed, slowly.
The carnage of the fight leaves Psotheos desperate. He settles his bow over a shoulder and bolts towards the bucket near the blue substance.
Lindale moves swiftly to attack the downed man and free Gabriel from his grasp.
Watching Arjax head to the bucket made Dalton consider the implications of the fluid. What the devil is it? He'd never find out unless Arjax got to it though; they'd have to keep the aasimar distracted.
To this end, Dalton launched another force wave at the thing. Even if it wasn't the most damaging, it had to be bothersome. Enough to divert his attention, like the wonderful disarming technique, he hoped...
The group fails to get the thing off Gabriel, but Lindale manages to mark him across the back. He smiles, blood forming between his teeth, and starts squeezing the life out of Gabriel.
Psotheos sprints across the room as Bjorkus moves towards the lava. After he throws the book in the Aasimar grows furious, and he grabs the disarmed soldier around the neck. Instead of him trying to life or choke the soldier he simply holds him, and you see the dark energy rush into his body. Suddenly the mans flesh begins tearing off and he lets loose a horrible, blood curdling scream. Dalton fires another blast of concussive force at him, making him shake his head and growl at the wizard.
From the sidelines Geoffrey can't wait around anymore and charges in despite his injury, raising his longsword and summoning forth his holy power, thrusting it towards the unholy fiend and piercing through the side of his abdomen.
Toramin takes another swing at the monstrous man.
Gabriel, frustrated that he can't escape the mans grasp and feeling his arm and body pop with the bloody mans strength, growls at him and tries to break free again. He strains, this time feeling like he found a little purchase, and tries to break free of the monsters grip.
Bjorkus growls in frustration through his resonate chant. With Geoffrey in the melee there was no way he was going to get his planes-touched opponent into the lava. After tossing his pilfered tome into the campfire, the bull regrips his massive axe and takes a mighty swing at the anti-paladin.
"Leave the pups out of this!"
Psotheos picks up the bucket and lowers it into the blue substance while carefully holding it so that none contacts his skin. There’s no way to ask the half-elf if he should throw it in the lava or on the anti-paladin without giving away his attention to the anti-paladin. Or he could pour it on the fire. Suddenly he thought of a possible solution to get Dalton’s advice as long as the aasimar wasn’t looking his way.
”Dalton,” he calls. ”One, two, or three?” he asks while pointing from the lava to the aasimar and finally to the fire then miming emptying a bucket.
Dalton points a finger at Arjax. "Pour the blue fluid in the lava. I'm not sure what it will do, but they're separate for a reason!"
Seeing Gabriel being crushed Lindale relents with weapon for a moment to invoke the divine. "Your desires shall fail... hr speaks.
The struggle continues, Toramin denting the mans armor further and Gabriel struggling to breath. But then Lindale steps back and casts a spell, and Gabriel feels the pressure remain constant instead of increase. He takes advantage of the lapse and throws the monster off him, who remains there for a moment, shaking his head.
Arjax begins filling up the bucket, cautious of touching the substance. However as the first bit splashes into the bottom of the bucket he yelps, pulling his hands back quickly. The substance was so cold his hands began sticking to the metal bucket.
The Aasimar tries to finish off the last soldier so he can deal with the bigger fish, but the man ducks underneath the terrible blow. Bjorkus gets off the sidelines and runs in behind the Aasimar, bringing a great downward blow and burying his weapon a foot deep through the mans shoulder into his chest. There's a spray of blood from the wound that covers Bjorkus and the Aasimar stumbles back, dropping his axe and trying to hold the wound closed. Finally he reaches the wall and sits down against it, amazingly enough staying alive and conscious, but clearly done with fighting. He whips his hair back, looking up at the intruders with a poison in his mouth. "So what now? You finish me off, then remain trapped down here until you die? Seems a stupid way to die."
At the same time Geoffrey cries out in pain and holds his own shoulder as blood sprays from his knife wound, but besides getting a little pale he seems alright.
The boy is safe. Toramin breathes an inward sigh of relief, and brings his hammer down on the brute again.
(+2) If Gabriel counts as flanking again.
Seeing Gabriel free of the man's grasp again Lindale wields his sword once more and slices at the brute, having no qualms whatsoever at hitting a downed opponent.
Seeing the fight is finished thanks to Bjorkus, Psotheos walks over to the group, rubbing his hand trying to warm it up. Standing next to the fire, he holds his afflicted hand over the flames, attempting to dispel the cold he felt. The symmetry between Geoffrey’s wound and the aasimar’s gives Psotheos concern, but other than general suspicions he isn’t sure the agency connecting them other than magic.
”Why should we believe what you say?” he asks the anti-paladin.
He grins madly "Believe me!? Do you not believe the walls keeping you here? All I need to do is die, and the knowledge of how to open them is gone forever!"
The man starts recovering from the magic, and begins standing only to have Lindale impale him on the end of his sword. The man stumbles, apparently about to fall over, but as soon as the sword is removed he explodes in a shower of disgusting bile. Gabriel manages to dive avoid most of it, but Toramin and Lindale get completely showered in the foul smelling green material.
Lindale wipes the goo off his face, "Why couldn't I be sent down the nice cool dark tunnel..."
He looks to the others, "This room is clear."
While the aasimar is interrogated, Dalton can hardly believe his eyes. I would've passed-out for sure already! The very admission makes him leery of coming close to him. No telling what a cornered animal might do.
However, the lordling's bucket drew his gaze. The wizard approached it.
Warming his hands? Probably an icy liquid then. But why have that and lava in the same room? Other than a lot of steam and initial stability upon adding them together, Dalton didn't really see the point in the polar pools. In theory, if they were put together in large amounts, a violent explosion could occur. Useful in a war ... but only if the substances are where you need them to start. Where they were now didn't seem too useful in that regard.
The iron walls barred their exit, but an idea came to Dalton; if the fluid was truly that cold that Arjax needed a fire to warm himself after a moment or two of touching, maybe applying it to the metal could make it brittle enough to break.
After all, the alternative was speaking with the dying antipaladin, and that didn't sound fun to Dalton.