Hearda eyes the distance closely, calculating in his mind the best way to swing across...until Amber's words are uttered.
"Then it must be dealt with. Are you ready Old Man?" Hearda nods to the others as he readies to hurl a piece of debris at the cloud...
Realizing that they're about to provoke another fight, Amber also readies her bow and waits for the signal to act.
At least there's no argument about poking the hive this time!
** spoiler omitted **
Something in the cloud? Or is the cloud something itself? Feliks didn't want to know, so he'd soon find out. He aimed his crossbow at it, ready to shoot.
Ready to shoot the cloud or thing within.
The old man bolts across the room with surprising alacrity, and slams into the desk with enough force to suggest at least a bruise. Even as he impacts the first flask leaves his hand, arcing across the room.
Alchemist Flask.
Herda eyes the distance closely, calculating in his mind the best way to swing across...until Amber's words are uttered.
"Then it must be dealt with. Are you ready Old Man?" Hearda nods to the others as he readies to hurl a piece of debris at the cloud...
Heearing his word, the old man bolts across the room with surprising alacrity, and slams into the desk with enough force to suggest at least a bruise. Even as he impacts the first flask leaves his hand, arcing across the room. the vial enters the cloud, sending its iridescent colors swirling. The sound of glass shattering filled the air, and the scent of burned flesh quickly followed. Whether or not that flesh was living, or sentient remained unknown to all but the depths of the glowing cloud.
As soon as the vial leave the old man's grasp, the room erupts into violent action. Hearda grabs a piece of debris with his mind, and wills it to fly through the air. It misses its mark by a wide margin, and instead shatters a vase on a table that somehow missed all the destruction and chaos. Feliks' bolt flies next, followed by Amber's arrow. The arrow lands in the wall, harmlessly vibrating in the air from the force of the impact. But, the crossbow bolt plunges deep into the glowing cloud, and a wet sort of "thock". His bolt strikes true!
The cloud lurches in a stumbling, haphazard gait, like a man drunkenly blundering across the floor. It sways this way and that as it careens across the office towards Feliks and Amber! The glowing cloud surrounds them, whirling swirling eddies of weird colored mists roil about them. They turn this way and that and then.. they see... a woman, head stretched up to the roof, legs crouched upon the floor, and billowing glowing clouds of multicolored mists vomiting from her mouth as she silently screamed. The woman, dressed in a blood-stained doctor's coat stops between the two and in an instant she locks eyes with Feliks. Madness burns in her eyes, unthinking and pained. Deep with in her impossibly wide mouth, Feliks and Amber can see the flapping wrappings of the Tatteredman!! It looks out through her throat, and they know it has seen them. It wraps extend out of the woman's mouth reaching out towards them like the flat tentacles of a monstrous squid, but the cannot reach the two dreamers! Instead they slither and flap against their faces, leaving dusty smears of yellow filth across their chins. The doctor herself reaches out and strikes at both Amber and Feliks with her arms, severed wrists flopping in the air with the strike! Amber ducks under the blow as she steps away from the horrific tentacles striking at her. But, Feliks is not so lucky, and the doctor's ruined stump strikes his head with enough force to send it smacking into the door jam beside him.
Oldes One
chance of hitting. but he doesn't beat the AC. Yay splash damage!
Feliks
ooo! barely a success!! OK, so.. does he actually hit (checks AC) hit!
hit!
yay!
miss T_T
unrelated to the attacks.. Amber and Feliks need to make a sanity check and a will save!
well poo
well poo
Hearda slips into the calm of battle, made easier by his orcish heritage. He surveys the scene with a note of dispassion.
The decision made the investigator holds his hand up high for a brief second, then drops his arm down with a chopping motion whilst pointing at the abomination assaulting his fellow dreamers. As Amber retreats he draws his mace and steps to take her place...his mind
The old man fumbles another vial from his cache, jaw dropped in terror. Desperately he half-rolls, half-throws it at the cloud, but the bar bounces badly on the floor and comes back.
Recall Mind Thrust
Nup.
Draw vial.
Throw vial.
Note: does not include range penalties. Is a touch attack.
Concealment does not apply, I think, to area effects?
"There's some kind of woman in that," Feliks said, pulling back and reloading his crossbow as he fixed his eyes upon it.
Reload.
Stare gives concealment vs. glowcloud lady.
Amber: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Feliks: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16
Hearda: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Oldest One: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Glow Cloud: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Hearda slips into the calm of battle, made easier by his orcish heritage. He surveys the scene with a note of dispassion.
Much can go wrong here should we choose poorly...the thing is intelligent, we can strike at its mind...
The decision made, the investigator holds his hand up high for a brief second, then drops his arm down with a chopping motion whilst pointing at the abomination assaulting his fellow dreamers. As Amber retreats he draws his mace and steps to take her place...his mind. He forms a lance of psychic energy in his mind and wills it forward in a powerful thrust.
He feels his mind press upon the thing inside the cloud and senses an alien, tortured presence. But, his mind slips past its fractured psyche, and his lance splinters into a thousand shards. Amber shrieks as she darts behind him, away from whatever is inside that cloud of swirling mist. Beside him, the Oldest One hurls a vial of acid into the cloud. It shatters deep within and the sound of sizzling skin soon follows.
Within the cloud, Feliks stares the woman in the eyes, willing whatever mad intelligence lurks behind her unseeing gaze to ignore him. The woman's unseeing eyes watch his every movement, and Feliks knows she sees him.
Somehow, he senses an alien humor behind those dead eyes as the creature shambles over to Hearda and the Oldest One. Within the swirling clouds of chaos, they see a woman collapsed to her knees, spewing clouds of mists into the air. Their minds recoil as they see the leering face of the Tattered Man and his writhing bandages bulging out from the woman's opened mouth. The two dreamers step back, and steel their minds to the horror within the cloud. The momentary shock is enough of an opening for the woman's severed fists to connect, shattering their noses.
Mind Thrust on thing inside
and.. it's immune to mind-affects
Trying to hit the glow cloud with a vial of acid
miss. Splash for 1 damage
Cloud moves over to attack hearda and Oldest One since they're giving it the beatdown
They are in the glow cloud.. time for will saves!
dang
dang
How hard can it be to drive people crazy!?!
it's good!
Hearda grunts as the blows connect with his face. Steeling himself against the mixture of pain and horror, he steps in front of his fellow dreamer and swings his mace hard, swishing through the outer layers of its coverings!
5' step
Hearda feels the luck from the woman dreamer's touch flow into his body, guiding his hand as he strikes the Tattered man...
The old one falls backwards, catching himself at the last minute and half-limping, half-sprinting around the hideous creature that confronts him!
As he runs he draws a scalpel, waving it between himself and the tattered horror - more as if it were a holy symbol than as a weapon.
Standard: Total Defense
Move: Draw dagger, move. Will provoke.
Swift: Activate Dark Half.
@Dragonofashandflame, are you tracking the HP? I'm not sure if he is on 9 or 11 hp?[/ooc]
For lack of better options, with his gaze sliding off the thing Feliks fired his crossbow again.
The old one falls backwards, catching himself at the last minute and half-limping, half-sprinting around the hideous creature that confronts him!
As he runs he draws a scalpel, waving it between himself and the tattered horror - more as if it were a holy symbol than as a weapon.
** spoiler omitted **
Amber: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Feliks: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16
Hearda: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Oldest One: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Glow Cloud: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Feliks takes steady aim, tracking the woman's movements as best he can. He breathes deep, calming himself despite the horrors he faces within the eerily glowing cloud. With a relaxed breath, he pulls the trigger of his crossbow, and the bolt rockets through the glowing mist in a swirl of churning fumes. A wet thock follows as the bolt finds its target deep in within the unearthly fog.
The Oldest One circles to the right as Amber scurries away. As she passes Hearda, her fingers trail across his back in a reassuring gesture of comfort and surety. The primal half of his psyche seethes with bloodlust, but her touch brings clarity and focus to his mind. It's just the help he needs as he swings his mace in a crushing arc that shatters the bones of the creature's arm.
Feliks attacks woman inside the glow cloud
HIT!
yay!!!
Oldest One moves around to strike Woman, provokes AoO
actual hit
OK, since Hearda, technically, delayed until Amber.. who goes AFTER Oldest One, Hearda is now, technically, flanking the woman with Oldest one. Thus, technically, he gets flanking bonuses! This means he hits
actual hit!
and... that's now 7 damage!
woman attacks Hearda and oldest one
Oldest One
miss
Hearda
miss
Standing next to woman: 20% miss chance (both ways)
Standing farther than 1 square away: 50% miss chance, both ways
Hearda knows the dreamer may...just might have a chance here...if they can keep pressing the attack here. Motioning to the woman he is shielding, he grunts "Another one of those, please!"
He then grips the haft of his mace tightly and swings deep into the swirling mist...
The old man swings with his dagger, this time with some force behind it... but only just. Still, it serves to keep the creature confused.
Yes. Like that. One more time.
Feliks loaded his crossbow with quick motions, keeping an eye on the cloud as he did, then fired once more.
Amber: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Feliks: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16
Hearda: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Oldest One: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Glow Cloud: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Once more, Feliks fires into the fog, but he shoots blinds, and he hears the arrow clatter against the floor. To the side, Amber touches Hearda's back. The dreamer feels confidence surge through him! He and the Oldest One strike, pinning the creature between their blows. More bones crack beneath their strikes, yet, still, whatever intelligence possesses the tortured ruin of a woman within the fog still retains its hold on this mortal plane!
The woman strikes madly about herself, ruined arms flopping about her like fleshy clubs. One of them strikes Hearda on the neck, nearly shattering his neck. He reels, stunned for a moment, but steadies, quickly. He cannot take another such blow!
Haerda's bit of luck
this turns hearda's strike into hit
potential hit
miss
hit!
[spoiler=effects]
Standing next to woman: 20% miss chance (both ways)
Standing farther than 1 square away: 50% miss chance, both ways
Hearda does not let up his assault, allowing his orcish heritage to override the side of him screaming to flee. Again he swings his mace hard at the possessed woman...
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
Feliks hurriedly reloaded and fired.
Sneering now, the old one presses the attack
AC is 17 this round as well.
Amber: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Feliks: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16
Hearda: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Oldest One: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Glow Cloud: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Once more, Amber taps his shoulder, and Hearda can feel the strands of fate pulling at his limbs. He swings his mace and it cracks into the woman's head one final time. The Tatterman stares Hearda in the eyes with a snarl before disappearing in a cloud of yellow fog. The mist erupts into the air, washing over everyone in the room. When the fog clears, the woman lays dead on the floor, her unseeing eyes no longer filled with mad light.
and that makes it a hit. and dead
Hand shaking, the old man stumbles to the desk and collapses onto the wooden surface. "What was that?" he asks the room.
Hearda takes a couple of heaving breaths, sheathing his mace now that the immediate threat has passed. He stares at the now-dead woman with a queasy look on his face. " I know not, Oldest One...yet the presence of the fog leads me to believe she may have attempted to escape the Asylum earlier."
He carefully leans over the corpse, keeping his distance from the fog cloud, and examines it closely...
"Did anyone else see a figure clad in tattered robes?" The old man, badly bruised, looks around "How are injured are we all? There may be others!"
Hearda looks up from his examination of the body, "Yes...Yes I did. Another mystery to unravel..."
"Didn't one of the books reference that the witch had a servant known as the tatteredman, or the tatterman, or somesuch?" the old man recalls.
Hearda pokes and prods the woman's corpse, and spots a blood-stained name tag under her lapel: Eliege Losandro. He also finds a key on a silver chain around her neck. It's the kind of key that would open a drawer.
Both Amber and Hearda are convinced that the woman was not possessed by some mystic entity, rather, they surmise that she functioned almost as a gateway for it.
As she looks about the room, she spots a few texts that might be interesting to look at on her desk.
Hearda lifts up the silver chain from the deceased Ms. Losandro in an almost reverent way.
You did not die well...I hope we were able to avenge you...
"Yes, Oldest One. It was indeed mentioned...The witches's servant certainly was her doom." He mutters softly, motioning to the corpse.
Turning his attention to the contents of the office, his gaze is immediately drawn to the desk in the center of the room. He slowly makes his way over towards it, ever watchful of the roiling fog still ever-present. Once in front of the desk, his fingers run over the wood looking for a keyhole...
Heards treads through the large pool of blood in the center of the room, though he tried to avoid it. It was not shallow, but it was far too large to easily evade. His red bootprints stained into the floors and squelched with thick wetness as he walked over to the desk at the other end of the room. The books on the desk had odd, foreboding titles on subjects that were weird and ominous. On the Treatment of Ambitions, Disappointments, and Regrets by Doctor Beauregard Trice; On Violent Sands by Doctor Henri Meirtmane; and Alison Kindler's Galdyce's Guest: Feast of the Nosferatu. They're in perfect condition, and remarkable quality.
Then, he turns his eye to the drawers. He pokes and prods, pulls and shoves, but nothing budges, until his hand slips an ornament to the side, and he spots a keyhole. The key he found from the doctor's neck turns easily in the lock, and the drawer pops open, as though it wanted to be found. He finds a mess of notes inside about random bits medicines and maladies. Along with a [u] ring of keys[/i] and a thick journal. The journal is of little interest, mostly of daily duties and observations about the asylum, or short notes from staff meetings and interveiws with patients' families. But, in recent entries from within the last year, the names Haserton Lowls and Count Lowls appear with increasing frequency.
He almost tosses the book to the side, but the last entry catches his eye....
Oathday: Another unexpected call from Count Lowls. These have become so common and Lowls' focus is so singular that they no longer leave me apprehensive. He requested to see me after his visit with Zandalus, though. He claims to have a theoretical solution for hte poor man's condition. I don't know what they count and my prized patient have been discussing--and Lowls again refused to share--but I doubt that lordly amateur psychologist has turly hit upon anything of worth. Regardless, I'd be a fool not to humor my liege.
Starday: Lowls' "solution" was not at all what I expected. I have no clue where he turned it up, but on his most recent visit, he brought along a copy of Valhadis' The Chain of Nights, a near-legendary collection of psycho-arcane studies and treatments focused on dreaming. While I abhor arcane tampering, if there's a permanent solution to Zandalus' nightmares, it could be here. Lowls allowed me to study the text for the duration of is visit, but staunchly refused to leave it in my possession.
Moonday: Lowls has made me an offer: his copy of The Chain of Nights. All I must do in return is accept a handful of new patients--former associates of his that have suffered some unprecedented manner of group amnesia. I might accept this as charity ont he count's behalf, but he insists that I keep no record of their committal. The terms make me suspicious, but I can learn more of these curious strangers once they're in my care. If it means the possibility of a cure for Zandalus and others, I welcome the bargain.
Toilday: The Chain of Nights is a marvel! It will take years of study to unravel all its possibilities, but already I've discovered a process by which chronic dreams might be drawn forth and disposed of like so much psychic gristle. Tomorrow our experiment begins!
Amber and the Oldest one, continuing to search their side of the room, are unaware of Hearda's findings. However, now that the unnatural fog has dissipated, they can clearly see a set of six small charcoal sketches set in frames on the opposite wall. A couch has been turned to face them, almost as though one sitting would have their entire vision filled with the powerful black and gray drawings. Each depict eerie vistas of an endless, empty city under a sky of swirling mist and black stars. Each image a slightly different view from the last, the whole creating a panorama of the preternatural city. Each bears the name Ulver Zandalus in the left corner, and a year mark from 4708 to 4715.
Haserton Lowls and Count Lowls are one and the same. They refer to Haserton Pragmus Lowls IV, ruler of the County of Versex in Ustalav.
"I'm not feeling wonderful." the old man acknowledges reluctantly as he quickly applies a poultice to his wounds and collapses on a nearby couch. "Just give me a moment."
He suddenly perks up "Look at the artist on these sketches; Ulver Zandalus."
Hearda is barely conscious of the others, as he peruses the journal intently once reaching the end of the journal. He slowly closes the books and mutters under his breath, "Haserton Lowls...Count Lowls....Hasterson...Count...he is one and the SAME!"
Dropping the journal upon the desk, he waves his fellow dreamers over pointing out the relevant passage under Moonbay concerning the arrival of the amnesia patients...
"Haserton Pragmus Lowls IV, ruler of the County of Versex in Ustalav! HE WAS THE ONE behind our imprisonment!"
Hearda shakes his head, waving off the woman's protests. "If this Count wanted to help us, then why go to such lengths to keep our presence here secret? Why would he give up such a valuable tome for this?"
Hearda is barely conscious of the others, as he peruses the journal intently once reaching the end of the journal. He slowly closes the books and mutters under his breath, "Haserton Lowls...Count Lowls....Hasterson...Count...he is one and the SAME!"
Dropping the journal upon the desk, he waves his fellow dreamers over pointing out the relevant passage under Moonbay concerning the arrival of the amnesia patients...
"Haserton Pragmus Lowls IV, ruler of the County of Versex in Ustalav! HE WAS THE ONE behind our imprisonment!"
** spoiler omitted **
"Good," Feliks said, coldly. "Now we know who to kill when we get out of this madhouse."
"Has..." the old man starts "Has anyone heard of this book The Chain of Nights? It seems possible it was working on the Chain of Nights that summoned the tattered man and precipitated this crisis, somehow. Perhaps it tapped into some long-lost residue or arcane working left by the Briarstone witch on this accursed isle."
The old man looks thoughtful "If it precipitated the crisis, perhaps then it is also the key to end it!"
"Yes I agree he should die, yet I also want answers WHY we were imprisoned...and what part our amnesia plays into it." Hearda replies to Feliks. "As for this tome...the Chain of Nights", Hearda ponders for a moment, "We have found additional tomes here," pointing to the staircase leading up to the second level. "It may be secreted there."
"It's a good idea." the old man allows "But I'd like to treat my wounds first, even if everyone else is still well."
Hearda sighs, "I am also feeling my wounds, but we can rest up once we have searched this room. It should be safe to explore here...at least as safe as anywhere here."