Matiscio staggers backwards and is unable to do anything as the carpet of spiders rolls over him. "Evander, catch!"
Gregor calls out, having no other recourse, "Stop running into the spiders, conventional weapons are no good, actually move AWAY from them. Use what little terrain we have to our advantage, like funneling them through the doorway. Basic tactical maneuvers, people." His frustration at being unequipped to directly affect them is evident in his voice, but he does not give up his position or plan.
Gilda, engulfed by hundreds of spiders, opts to taunt them.
"Ahh, is that the best ya got! I got bedbugs that bite worse than you all!"
Gilda reaches around in her oversized dress, quickly pats Sprinkles Too on the head and withdraws a flask of her own.
"I broughtcha some medicine too! Ha!"
Stepping back from her own pile of spiders, she times her throw until Matiscio is free of his own pack. Gilda hits the red swarm with a direct blow, setting it aflame and scattering the few spiders who survive the fire. A bit of damage impacts the blue swarm and Matiscio as well.
Didiana thinks, C'mon... C'mon... C'mon and light, you little... There! The sharp sound of flint and steel striking together could be heard several times before Didiana rose from her hunched position with her hard-won prize in hand: a lit torch. Now on how to best utilize it.
Evander grabs the Alchemist's Fire out of the air and says, "Hold on, guys!" He then chucks the flask at the swarm engulfing Matiscio, hoping the splash will affect the other. Unfortunately, his throw is a bit off and it lands off target.
Red Spider Swarm is dead.
Blue Spider Swarm continues to swarm over Matiscio, but moves forward a bit, looking toward other members of the party for when it’s finished with the brawler. Matiscio takes another point of damage.
Matiscio staggers out of the veritable cloud of spiders and, with amazing alacrity, fetches another vial of alchemical madness. Once clear of the swarm, he throws it with clear intent: to inflict maximum carnage.
Didiana looked on at Gilda's gift for arson with equal measures of approval and apprehension. Hundreds of the spiders already lay torched and smoking before the shaman's fiery onslaught, by magic and alchemy both. But hundreds more remained and myriads of those stragglers were feasting on Matiscio, bite by tiny bite. The arachnids still needed to be dealt with, immediately. And the sorcerer was hugely frustrated by her inability to do so. She looked to the torch in her hand. Yes, fire was clearly an effective tool for dispersing the horde, but there was only so much a burning stick could do. And what oil she had left was not enough to light up any significant number of the vermin. She gritted her teeth in chagrin as she stared at the two inadequate tools in her hands.
Then her gaze shifted from the tools to the hands themselves. And much like a torch in the night, an idea lit up in her head. The armiger thought back to Scarplume and her fiery attack. She thought back to the revelation she'd gotten in that fight. She thought back to her resultant small experiments by candlelight. The only way to get at the spiders was via area-spanning attacks or to strike where they clustered together. And, she thought looking at the victimized brawler, the only place they concentrated like that was on their victim.
Didiana doused herself with what oil remained, a not insignificant amount that seeped into her hair and clothes even as it covered her skin, and then tossed the empty bottle. With that done she then waded right into the thick of the spider swarm. The scarlet skittering carpet covering the floor parted so as not to be crushed beneath her stride, but as soon as the feet stood still dozens, hundreds, of the beasts descended upon her, climbing up her legs like she was a mountain to be conquered and then devoured.
Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.
The sensation of thousands of little spindly legs upon her was repulsive, but the armiger steeled herself with the words of her Order. Part II of maxim II of the Chain: EXECUTION BY FLAME - Be ready to destroy all to accomplish your aims. She doubted this was what the founders had in mind when they wrote the code, but... actually, no, to hell with that; gambling your life to destroy your enemy in a fiery inferno? They'd probably approve.
Boy, she hoped she was as fireproof as she theorized
When the first arachnid had just reached her pale throat, the sorcerer touched the torch to her oil soaked clothes and with a great burst of combustive glory Didiana Drost was no more. In her place stood a column of blazing fire, incinerating every pest that had dared to encroach upon her.
Matiscio hurls another alchemist's fire at the remaining swarm and disperses most of them. Didiana steps in among the remnants and sets them all aflame. The few that survive flee the Fantasmagorium, Kintargo, and Ravounel entirely, never to return.
Matiscio panicks when Didiana douses herself in flammable liquid and invokes Asmodeus's breath over herself. "Dia-n!! ... -ohh, you're fine. Good Gods, you made my heart skip a beat there!"
Luckily the man had no need to worry about himself what with the poisonous bites and splash damage he had sustained in moments prior. Knowing Didiana, and having recovered from the shock, Matiscio returns to here and now. He goes forth to check out the body, once more, hoping this time he won't be jumped by a living carpet of creepy crawlers.
Gregor missed the results of the fight, and more so Didiana's insane display. Instead, he was stuck beside the tank of filthy water until he was given the all clear. The smell of burnt insect pervaded the space, and fills the nostrils. He couldn't help but offer one of the oddest things to be heard from him by the group, "You guys handled that quite effectively, and... I... am sorry if I snapped at you preemptively." His scowl deepens, and he seems bothered by his own apology.
Changing the subject, he adds, "So, this body, was it just the work of the spiders or are there defenders here that fought off a Thrunite supporter? The latter would lend credence to the hope of finding the Archivists here." He looks the body and vicinity over for any signs of foul play.
Evander stares in awe at Didiana's self-immolation to finish the spiders, then his mouth drops open as she appears unharmed by the flames. Now, that's interesting...that's very interesting... A gift for charming others, an apparent ability to resist mundane fire...was it possible he wasn't the only one who had some fiendish ancestry to them? How intriguing.
With the spiders slain, he joins Matiscio in searching the room and the body. He says nothing of his theory to Didiana, but occasionally glances at her.
Huh. Tickles.
Didiana couldn't help herself. She was only human. Being on fire was a very curious experience when you weren't actually burning, so rather than doing the sensible thing, namely stop, drop and roll, the sorcerer indulged in a few seconds of wonder as she simply observed herself. It wasn't every day one got to be a bonfire. The sparks, the colors, the light; seeing a pyre from the inside was really quite beautiful. And the sensation of it all was no less remarkable. The tongues of flame that should be burning her merely felt like gentle caresses as they traveled up her skin and through her clothes.
The clothes that were quickly disintegrating into ash. Right. Woops.
"Um, excuse me," the armiger said as she stumbled her way back to the aquatic display hall. Her vision was slightly limited, walking pyre that she was, and she tried not setting anything else alight. Having reached the nearest open water tank, Didiana dunked her burning head into the drink.
"Pfft!"
Some few seconds, several handfuls of water, and one very drenched floor later the sorcerer was extinguished. And also an utter mess. Her attire was blackened, scorched and smoldering at the edges but otherwise intact, while she herself could most charitably be described as grimy. The combination of soot and whatever gunk had been in the decades-old water was not exactly flattering. Didiana made a quick inspection of herself to ensure that nothing was awry. She was heartened to see that the magical armor looked no worse for wear. And apparently her hair was as fire resistant as the rest of her. Of course it was.
"You guys handled that quite effectively, and... I... am sorry if I snapped at you preemptively."
"No, no. The idea was sound," she said as she hunched over the backpack she'd left behind earlier. She wanted her helmet seeing as the disguise Evander had fashioned for her was well and truly ruined. But her fingers came across something else whilst rummaging in the rucksack.
EDIT: As Gregor and Matiscio looked over the corpse, Didiana watched the next hallway for more trouble when she caught a somewhat funny look from Evander. "What?" she said, sounding far more defensive than she had intended.
"Nothing. I've just never seen a person light themselves on fire before and not immediately run around screaming in pain. Let's talk more about it later? Now isn't the time." Evander says it a little too quickly - he's obviously thinking something, he just isn't saying what.
"Wha... Magic, alright?! I'm magic, in case you haven't noticed! I put up a spell beforehand to protect myself. Obviously!"
The lie was as thin as the irrational anger was obvious. Didiana turned from the writer in a huff, fearfully telling herself that she needed to be more careful in the future. What would the Ravens think if they knew one of them was touched by the Pit?
Gilda allowed her smirk to be fully transparent to Didiana as she met Evander's eyes for several seconds.
"Sure, magic. Totally saw ya conjure some wards, Red."
Gilda paused for a moment, having requested Old Kintargo for such wards when they were squaring off with the Red Jills. Would she need to prepare for such dangers more often since she was in the company of Red "Sometimes" Torchmyself?
Gilda passed her scarf to the sorceress, not having the ability to magically mend garments in the field.
"Come on over, Matty. I got yer bug bites fixed!"
Being very familiar with bug bites, Gilda was impressed that Old Kintargo saw fit to grant her increasing power to deal with them.
Once the fires have been put out, Matiscio search the corpse and finds several noteworthy items. The man has a silver unholy symbol of Asmodeus worth 25 gp, a vial of silver dust worth 125 gp, and four scrolls. Didiana is able to identify them as a scroll of Cause Fear, Doom, Inflict Light Wounds, and Remove Fear. He also wears a breastplate of some sort. In his hand, the man clutches a gold-plated “Hocum’s Fantasmagorium” charm which is worth 25 gp.
Matiscio searches the room, but doesn’t see anything else threatening. Gregor and Evander also don’t notice anything out of place.
Gregor examines the body and finds that the man was indeed killed by the spiders as hundreds of bites are present on his skin. It looks like his body has been here for at least a few days.
-----
From the insect room you enter the hallway travelling to the southeast. The footprints you’ve been tracking continue in this direction. A circular alcove off this hallway cradles a lovingly maintained statue of a regal man, his arms outstretched and his chest adorned with a carving of a winged eye. Empty picture frames line the walls.
Matiscio lets go a sigh of relief when Gilda bathes him in divine energies that heal and purify his body. "Thank you. I never got out of bed today thinking that I'd be facing bugs and creepers. Sure, vermin," and he nods at the Asmodean. "But not spiders. What's next, a mummified snake? No, let's not answer that."
The brawler then moves on to scout the hallway. Curious eyes dart over the statue but then dip on down again to follow the footprints.
Evander joins Matiscio in scouting the hallway and looking at the statue. Probably a statue of Hocum himself. This nutjob probably had the ego to put at least one in here. He shakes his head and looks to the next room down the hallway.
If the red and black uniform hadn't already confirmed it, then the holy symbol certainly did: Asmodeans had visited the museum. And there was only one reason Didiana could think for them being here: to root out the Archivists. Now the question became whether or not they'd been successful. Clearly the Irorans hadn't been as secretive as Rexus had hoped, but the corpse was only a few days old. And the Fantasmagorium wasn't burned to the ground. Had the archivists repelled some early investigative force from the church or something?
She chose to cut her speculation short with a few quick castings of Detect Magic on the deceased and his belongings. Could never be too careful.
"What's next, a mummified snake? No, let's not answer that."
"Or animated statue, perhaps," Didiana answered, ignoring the brawler's plea like the consummate pragmatist that she was. She eyed the sculpture suspiciously. Every other room in the building had housed some death trap masquerading as a display. She saw no reason to believe the rest of the place was any different.
The empty picture frames, however, were curious enough to entice the sorcerer to approach the statue. She looked them over. Had something been removed from here?
Gilda takes a couple steps into the room and crosses her arms as she looks up at the statue and grunts.
"Winged eye? Eh, it's not a bad job. Kinda looks like Aroden in the right light."
Glancing back to the others, Gilda smiles.
"This one time, Lenny and I took a pottery class. Oh, we stayed late one night and I remember sitting in that fool's lap, eyes closed as he guided my hands through the soft, wet clay..."
Gilda allows her eyes to close as she softens her demeanor for the briefest moment.
After the moment passes, she opens her eyes again and assists Didiana in scanning for magical auras that might be guarding whatever coppers or silvers could've fallen out of patrons' pockets while visiting this place.
With no obvious threats in sight, Matiscio slowly starts walking forward.
Gregor, deciding that the statue posed no real or immediate threat, merely shrugged at the assumption of its likeness. He never had much use for the gods. Living in Cheliax his whole life, the gods only really brought him the works of Asmodeus, so he didn't care much for their influence. That said, he has heard at least a little of Abadar and decided long ago, that of any of them, that he seemed the one to make the most sense.
As the group moved forward, he switched his weapons around, reverting back to carrying his bow for comfort. The heft of a weapon in hand and the weight of armor on his shoulders felt more like any religion he needed than that of fickle gods.
Didiana notices that the picture frames appear to have had something removed from them at some point. They haven’t always been pictureless.
Neither Didiana nor Gilda notice anything magical beyond what you’ve already found. The breastplate the Asmodean was wearing does seem to be magical.
With nothing else to do in the hallway, you head into the next room which you can immediately tell is a wax gallery. Wax replicas of various politicians, folk heroes, deities, and creatures fill this room, some laughably fake and others eerily lifelike. One in particular stands out - a depiction of a man dressed in bloodstained robes that a professor might wear. This figure wields a bloody surgeon’s knife in one hand, but its face has been melted away into an unrecognizable waxen mess save for a single glaring eye.
The defaced statue bears a plaque inscribed as follows: “Professor Mangvhune - Temple Hill Slasher.”
The halls to the southwest of you appear to be a series of open galleries, but all you can see from your present location are empty glass cases that may have once held paintings. Though you can’t see anyone, you hear low moaning coming from that direction as well.
"Gods, I've heard stories about that one before," Matiscio blurts out. He frowns and shakes his head as the recollections of those stories come back to him. "If we ever came home late as kids, our mothers would tell us they were afraid Professor Mangvhune had gotten to us just like he had gotten to all those other kids. It's quite disturbing actually, in hindsight."
Involuntarily driven forth by his subconscious, the brawler steps forward and takes away the knife from the statue's hand. "You hold no power over me, you madman." One more childhood trauma had been overcome.
"Hey, is it me, or is there a low moaning coming from up ahead?"
Gregor looks over the gallery with an eye of skepticism, "Hmm, should have saved the fire for this room. Why does this place get more creepy the further we go? Maybe we should have started on the right, and come the other way, the creepiness would be diminishing instead."
He nods along with Matiscio's revelation, "You know, they never found out his motivations, or a connection between the victims beyond their presence in Temple Hills. It's a closed case, but there is still plenty of speculation. Some say it was a religion-based crime. What's that?" He turns and asks, when Matiscio mentions the sound, catching it also at that point.
Evander eyes the statue of Professor Mangvhune and again asks, "Return joy and whimsy? How is a wax statue of that butcher joyful or whimsical? No wonder Hocum's went out of business - the man was mad."
Evander looks at the remaining eye in Mangvhune's statue, then pulls out his dagger and moves forward, taking a moment to dig the eye out with it. He holds it up to look at it and says, "Carved alabaster. This should be worth something." He then puts it in his pouch.
At hearing the moaning, he sheathes the dagger and draws his rapier - taking no chances. "Shall we investigate?"
Didiana knew nothing about the so called Temple Hill Slasher beyond what come with growing up Kintargan nor did she particularly care, but she did wonder at how his wax replica's face had turned into the melted mess before them now. Not that she was particularly bothered by this; the sorcerer disproved of the entirety of the statue. Glorification of a murderer? Building an effigy to scum like that unsurprisingly left the armiger scowling. Charging admission to see said effigy? She started sifting through legal texts in her head. The late Hocum had to have been breaking some law she could have busted him for...
Halfway through memorized legislation on icons and idolatry, however, Didiana turned at the sound of the moan. What now? Was there someone here? Was that someone hurt? And if so, was it an Iroran or another Asmodean? She approached cautiously with the others.
Gilda smiles and nods as Evander pops the alabaster eye out and into his hand, approving of taking the same action she herself was contemplating.
"Probably a ghost... or a mummified zombie running amok."
"When I first lost Lenny, I used ta' spend all my silvers at this teller down by the docks ta' ask him questions. Like... where did ya stick our savin's box? And where didya leave the cat food?"
She shakes her head.
"I dunno if he was playin' tricks, but he kept givin' me wrong answers for weeks."
Gilda doesn’t know much about ghosts, other than that they do exist, in one form or another.
Matiscio and Evander lead the way to investigating the moaning coming from the next set of rooms. The next set of rooms is just what it appeared to be from the wax gallery: a series of open galleries that may have once held numerous paintings and other objects of curiosity in several glass cases, but today the displays are all empty.
Most notable in the room, however, are the six zombies whose moans grow in volume as they see you. All of the zombies wear burned nobles’ clothing and their flesh is horribly mangled by innumerable burns. The zombies’ dormancy comes to an end and they extend undead hands toward you as they move to attack.
Matiscio has no recollection of Didiana ever employing area of effect spells and, with Gilda already having spewed forth fire from her hands just moments ago, he isn't expecting much in the form of a magical inferno to fix their current problem: a horde of zombies.
The brawler blinks while reciting a mantra, hoping to open his third eye,"ॐ मणि पद्मे हम."
Evander sighs as they now encounter zombies. He has no idea if stabbing them will be at all effective, but decides to join Matiscio in acting as a front line against them.
Evander moves up next to the brawler, and thrusts at the zombie before him.
Unfortunately, his attack misses completely.
Knowing very little about the undead, despite his recent studies, Gregor makes an assessment of the situation. Given the number of enemies in tight quarters, he offers tactical advice. "If we open the doors behind Reverend we can get some fighting space, allowing us to flank and strike them from multiple sides, and allowing me to get a safe firing distance."
What the HELL is going on in this place?!
The unspoken question arose from equal measures of outrage and bewilderment. The anger came about from simply being an officer of the law who cared about her vocation. The undead were already an affront to everything decent, but judging by their charred clothing, just a bit crispier than her own, every one of them also represented a murder. That wasn't funeral garb the shambling things were dressed in. To not only be killed, but then also have your corpse desecrated... Despicable.
Didiana's frustrated bewilderment, on the other hand, came from plainly not understanding the stiffs' presence. Irorans, Asmodeans... The dead were seemingly neither, again judging from their attire which had clearly once been very impressive indeed. Besides, who the heck left a bunch of zombies hanging about an abandoned joke of a museum? Unlike everything else the group had fought in the place, these did not appear part of some questionable old display. None of it made sense.
But right now it didn't have to. Right now all the sorcerer really needed to understand was that the flesh-eating horde before them intended the Ravens as their next meal. Didiana resisted the urge to yell 'Eat this!' as she conjured up two familiar white-glowing orbs and launched them forward. She liked to think she had more class than that.
As Matiscio darts into the room, only to be joined by Evander, Gilda shouts a warning.
"Careful! If them's ghosts, you'll want some garl---"
Sniffing the air, Gilda pauses for a moment.
"Ugh, those ghosts smell like rotting meat..."
Suddenly, the shaman's eyes open wide as it dawns upon her that they are in fact not moaning ghosts, but walking undead of another variety.
"Ahh, them's zombies! Don't poke 'em! Chop at 'em!"
Gilda seems conflicted about what to do next, but then after snapping her fingers, blurts out an epiphany.
"Oh! Lemme see 'em! Watch out!"
Hustling in the room, Gilda tucks Sprinkles Too deep into a pocket for safety before a burst of blurry energy seems to emanate from her being.
Evander moves up next to the brawler, and thrusts at the zombie before him. Unfortunately, his attack misses completely.
Matiscio has no recollection of Didiana ever employing area of effect spells and, with Gilda already having spewed forth fire from her hands just moments ago, he isn't expecting much in the form of a magical inferno to fix their current problem: a horde of zombies.
The brawler blinks while reciting a mantra, hoping to open his third eye, "ॐ मणि पद्मे हम." Matiscio’s first blow strikes the blue zombie, but it doesn’t seem to do nearly as much damage as the brawler had expected. His second blow also does less than he expected, but manages to cause the blue zombie to crumble to the ground, destroyed.
Gregor, knowing very little about the undead, despite his recent studies, makes an assessment of the situation. Given the number of enemies in tight quarters, he offers tactical advice. "If we open the doors behind Reverend we can get some fighting space, allowing us to flank and strike them from multiple sides, and allowing me to get a safe firing distance."
Gilda, hustling in the room, tucks Sprinkles Too deep into a pocket for safety before a burst of blurry energy seems to emanate from her being. Her channel strikes all of the remaining animate zombies. Some look more affected than others.
Didiana resisted the urge to yell 'Eat this!' as she conjured up two familiar white-glowing orbs and launched them forward. She liked to think she had more class than that. Both of her missiles strike the red zombie and proves to be enough to destroy the thing.
Purple Zombie lurches toward Gilda after the searing pain it felt from her before trying to attack. It manages to land a blow on Gilda, bruising her shoulder.
Pink Zombie tries to attack Matiscio and also lands a blow, this time on the man’s side.
Green Zombie gets into position to be able to attack next round.
Yellow Zombie does likewise.
"Pharasma have your souls!"
And, after that genuine cry to get the Goddess's attention, Matiscio remains focused on that which his third eye sees: openings and opportunities to inflict maximum carnage on the walking dead.
Didiana had to shield her eyes as Gilda released a bright flash of energy, a flash she thought she recognized as the curative magic the shaman had employed before. Expect when the sorcerer looked upon the battlefield again, none of the combatants seemed any healthier. Quite the opposite. It shouldn't have been possible but the zombies looked even more scorched and very unhappy indeed with the widow.
Ah, positive energy! Undead! Right, she can do that!
Bolstered at the thought of Gilda's very specific advantage against the enemy, Didiana conjured another two glowing orbs of arcane fury, one in each hand. She threw them into the air where they awakened with purpose. No aiming was necessary; the missiles flew like bats out of Hell towards their intended target, flawlessly navigating the tangle of limbs and weapons that comprised the fight before crashing into the head of the zombie threatening Grabapple.
At Gilda’s advice to chop at the zombies, Evander thinks, I can’t do that with a rapier. Drawing out his dagger, he slashes at the zombie before him.
And misses yet again.
"Ha! Yeah, how you moaners like that?!"
Gilda air-punches at the one that slammed her arm, continuing to taunt it.
Gregor can only nod in acknowledgement that Mrs. Grabapple's effect was rather useful, and even more so at the fact that she offered the advice to use an edge to more effect. Realizing the doors just may not get opened, and that his sword will be better than his bow anyway, he moves up while drawing said weapon. "Well played team, keep it up and we'll be through them in no time.". With words of encouragement, he tries to get his blade into a solid arc, but the press is too heavy.
Evander, at Gilda’s advice to chop at the zombies, thinks, I can’t do that with a rapier. Drawing out his dagger, he slashes at the zombie before him. And misses yet again.
Matiscio, after that genuine cry to get the Goddess's attention, remains focused on that which his third eye sees: openings and opportunities to inflict maximum carnage on the walking dead. His first blow hits, but again doesn’t do as much damage as he expected and the zombie remains standing. His second blow manages to hit as well and the yellow zombie crumbles to the ground, destroyed.
Gregor can only nod in acknowledgement that Mrs. Grabapple's effect was rather useful, and even more so at the fact that she offered the advice to use an edge to more effect. Realizing the doors just may not get opened, and that his sword will be better than his bow anyway, he moves up while drawing said weapon. "Well played team, keep it up and we'll be through them in no time." With words of encouragement, he tries to get his blade into a solid arc, but the press is too heavy. Despite that, his blade manages to find its mark and destroys the green zombie.
Gilda air-punches at the one that slammed her arm, continuing to taunt it. Her taunt doesn’t seem to faze the zombie.
Didiana conjured another two glowing orbs of arcane fury, one in each hand. She threw them into the air where they awakened with purpose. No aiming was necessary; the missiles flew like bats out of Hell towards their intended target, flawlessly navigating the tangle of limbs and weapons that comprised the fight before crashing into the head of the zombie threatening Grabapple. Both missiles hit, of course, but the zombie persists.
Purple Zombie tries to attack Gilda again but misses.
Pink Zombie swipes at Matiscio but misses.
From one of the rooms to the southeast, you hear someone shout, "Hey! What’s all that commotion?”
Someone responds, “Sounds like the zombies are active again. We’ve got intruders!”
Yet another says, “Go get Azvernathi! We’ll check it out.”
You don’t yet see anyone else, but you’re fairly confident they’ll appear momentarily
"Oh, fantastic!" mutters the brawler as even more trouble seems to be awaiting them up ahead.
Evander steps up to the purple zombie to try and finish it.
He is apparently terrible at fighting zombies.
Gilda watches As Matiscio drops the second-to-last of the zombies and turns to see if Gregor is about to do the same to her own foe. After withdrawing the wand, she steps aside to create room for the warrior.
Realizing it falls onto her shoulders to dispatch her own zombie, Gilda pulls out the shiny new wand and sees how zombies like being healed.
for
Oh, what fresh Hell is this now? the sorcerer thought at the sound of not so friendly voices and approaching footsteps. So the Fantasmagorium did house something other than gaudy displays and dusty deathtraps, like Rexus said. That was almost a relief. Except with everything else the group had seen here, Didiana didn't like the odds of these being the Archivists coming to greet them.
Moving over to have a better view of whoever it was they were about to meet, she quickly calmed and refocused the sorcerous energy within for a new purpose. The arcane engine inside her responded. She could feel it changing tack, like a heart going from sprint to sleep in a second. It shifted from the violent thrum beating in her veins when she let her power manifest in missile after missile of destruction, to a low hum oscillating through her skin. It felt like the hiss of an immense snake, insidious and intense. The armiger let it coalesce into a spell, one that would strike at the mind rather than the flesh. She readied it to slither into the head of whatever fool stupid enough to oppose the Ravens next.
Gregor realizes he'll need to make it to the other side of Gilda to get a clear shot at the last of the creatures. He attempts to do so as carefully as possible in the tight confines of the room, but is thrown way off his balance when he realizes that he had pressed himself way too familiarly against the woman. Stumbling to the spot he intended, he turns and takes out his embarrassment on the creature, but even the splatter of viscera is not as red as his cheeks, and his follow through suffers in his attempt to not look her direction at all.
Evander steps up to the purple zombie to try and finish it. He is apparently terrible at fighting zombies.
Matiscio mutters, "Oh, fantastic!" as even more trouble seems to be awaiting them up ahead. After utilizing some of his flexibility, Matiscio’s fist collides with the pink zombie and destroys it.
Gregor realizes he'll need to make it to the other side of Gilda to get a clear shot at the last of the creatures. He attempts to do so as carefully as possible in the tight confines of the room, but is thrown way off his balance when he realizes that he had pressed himself way too familiarly against the woman. Stumbling to the spot he intended, he turns and takes out his embarrassment on the creature, but even the splatter of viscera is not as red as his cheeks, and his follow through suffers in his attempt to not look her direction at all. The pink zombie doesn’t get a chance to react as it’s already dead, but the purple zombie takes a swipe at the ranger as he moves into position and manages to strike him. Gregor’s follow up blow connects and the purple zombies crumbles to the ground to join the others.
Gilda, seeing all the zombies are dead, uses her wand to heal some of Matiscio’s damage.
Didiana readies.
A trio of figures round the corner from the next room over. They wear the same clothes as the dead man in the insect room. A couple of them have unholy symbols of Asmodeus visibly hanging from their necks. Didiana casts daze at the first one. She comes to a halt and looks disoriented.
The other two continue a bit further before stopping and studying you. One says to the other, “Guess Azvernathi’s going to have to make a new set of zombies.”
Both take offensive stances, preparing to attack. None of the trio have weapons in their hands.
You’re also able to now see a bit into the next room over. It appears to have at least two rows of shelves and displays, though they’re mostly empty. What you do see indicates the room may have once been some sort of shop.
Matiscio rushes forward with his exotic shield raised and ready to deflect any and all magic the devilish trio might throw at him.
Evander drops his dagger and dashes forward on light feet, launching an attack at one the Asmodeans with his rapier.
Opportune Parry and Riposte
Parry will fail, no riposte.
AC 17, T 13, FF 14
HP 22/22
Inspiration 4/4
Panache 3/4
Extracts:
[ ] cure light wounds, [ ] longarm, [ ] shield
Gilda seeing the Asmodeans descend upon them, reveals her general opinion of such.
"Aww, Asmodeans! Figures they're the one makin' the moaners!"
Seeing that Didiana has dealt with one, even if temporarily, Gilda focuses her ire on another.
Sticking her tongue out at the priest, Gilda taunts the man.
"Pffftt! Betcha can't even hit us!"
Something was well and truly off at the Fantasmagorium, as if that hadn't become abundantly clear for the Ravens already. Didiana's face darkened at the presence of the Asmodeans. Instead of the Irorans they had come to recruit, devil-worshipers occupied the museum. And where the one group resided, the other was unlikely to be found. What had happened here?
Oh, you diabolic bastards better have some answers for us...
Seeing her more melee-oriented compatriots rushing in to take the Asmodeans head-on, the sorcerer readied another mental intrusion from afar. It had worked well the first time.
Eager to get distance between himself and Gilda, Gregor rushes up to the furthest Asmodean that looked like it couldn't act. Taking advantage of the moment of stunned silence, he rushes up and slashes at it with his sword. Setting himself up near the corner, he hopes to stop anyone before they try to make their escape.