"Hey, what's up? You guys find Filge and Smenk?"
Carina sighs. "Um... not really. We found a letter from Filge. Addressed to me, no less." She holds the letter up with a shaking hand. "He said he was ambushed by doppelgangers."
"And... I may or may not have seen a ghost." She swallows, looking nervously about for it again.
[dice=Survival]1d20+7
"Yeah, but the current would direct anything unmanned into this spot. Weird."
Cuetzpalli looks around for any sets of tracks.
"There are more fatty tracks here. Let's follow them, maybe they lead to a doughnut shop. I'm getting kinda hungry with all this walking and tracking," Cuetzpalli says, pointing to the tracks.
"Smenk or Dopple-Smenk", Tanith suggests while following Cuetzpalli's lead. "Either way, trouble."
The group follows the tracks to a small gate leading out of the city.
Down on the banks of the Selintan River, outside the city walls, a large district has been built to service the docks and waterways around the Free City. In among the warehouses, taverns, and shops catering to mariners is a relatively unremarkable warehouse marked “Sodden Hold”. The tracks lead inside.
By the time the adventurers arrive, the sun is starting to set.
"Doesn't look like a doughnut shop. Who wants to hold a sodden doughnut anyway? Unless it's sodden with milk...that might be good," Cuetzpalli muses, scratching his chin.
"A ghost, huh? I thought we laid that kid to rest . . ."
Astraden follows Cuetzpalli and stands a ways away from the entrance. "This place does not look appetizing, no." She touches Cuetzpalli, Farrukh, Carina, and Spiny in turn, speaking phrases from Oeridian, Flan, Common, and Rhennee.
Carina shakes her head. "N-no... no, not Alastor. This was different..."
It's quite clear that she's physically uncomfortable talking about this. "Um... I'll explain later. Right now, we should check this place out." I mean, it's not like my darker half has decided to come back after all this time and haunt me. That'd be stupid. And inaccurate.
She hands off her two prepped extracts of shield to Cuetzpalli & Tanith.
"Sodden. Lovely. Because there hasn't been enough muck yet today..." Eben says, taking his bow from his quiver and checking the string. He looks around expectantly at the rest of the group for a moment before a quick look of embarrassment crosses his face when Astraden casts her portective spells, like he'd just remembered he'd forgotten something important. He lays a hand on Tanith, Farrukh, Cuetzpalli, and Spiny right behind her, chanting something in a high. sing-songy tongue that sounds partly based on Draconic. At the end, he lays a hand on himself as well.
Tanith's not really sure why they're preparing for battle but he joins in. After quaffing Carina's extract he calls down Kord's blessing.
"Let's see what's inside. "
Cuetzpalli pulls his trident with one hand, and holds the infusion of shield in his off hand. "Ready when you all are," Cuetzpalli says. He's also not really sure why they are gearing for war, but figures he missed something, and keeps his mouth shut.
Farrukh goes on high alert mode.
"What is it? Are we expecting something bad in here?"
He pauses.
"Nevermind. Of course there is."
Lurking at the water’s edge like a rotten log washed ashore, the warehouse marked “Sodden Hold” is built mostly of stone with a wood shingle roof thick with long, ropey moss. The entire building has a green hue, owing to the large patches of moss and mold that grow on its walls.
A tall set of iron double doors marks the only entrance to the warehouse, as it has no windows. Nobody has touched or tried to open the doors yet.
Farrukh slinks up to the doors and looks carefully at them.
Assuming it isn't trapped or locked, he pushes it open a bit.
The door is locked, but Farrukh is unable to find any traps.
Farrukh shrugs and hopes he has the ability to disable the lock.
After half a minute of fiddling, he's pretty sure he's got it.
Eben chants a little bit more and four flickering balls of light spring into existence by his side. He gestures and they wiggle forward in a diamond pattern as soon as Farrukh has the doors open.
*click*
The door clicks open mere moments after Farrukh sets to work.
The doors open into a large space dominated by dozens of crates and barrels of various sizes. Lit by a number of faintly flickering torches above, a thick layer of dust covers much of the cargo stored here.
On the far side of the chamber is a ten-foot wide catwalk. It stands fifteen feet off the ground.
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Farrukh creeps into the room. On a whim, he opens up a random crate to see if anything of intert is inside, though does so as cautiously as he is able.
Carina stays as close as she can to Tanith, her crossbow loaded and ready.
Something suddenly clicks in Astraden's mind. As the others file in, she looks to Cuetzpalli. "I uh . . . I completely forgot my godfather's directions, but I think this is where he wanted us to meet. Well. I guess at least if we take out whatever's in here, he'll be saved the risk."
She follows after Carina and Tanith, dagger and shield drawn and ready.
Farrukh reaches over and grabs the box's lid. Immediately, the keenly aware slayer becomes aware of something.
The lid is sticky.
A voice rings out, harsh and crusty. "There's one here, boys!"
Everything happens at once. Standing at the entrance, Cuetzpalli sees a crate scamper by on six skittering spiderlike legs.
Then a huge barrel rushes at him, literally unhinging its jaw to show teeth like scimitars. It rams the Olman. "Gotcha!"
Its blow is completely absorbed by Cuetzpalli's armor.
Meanwhile, on the inside, Farrukh finds himself rapidly surrounded. Two smaller boxes move to flank him, swinging with long pseudopods, as the very crate he'd been examining seems to melt down before his eyes, bearing down on him like a tidewater of liquified wood.
The creatures don't seem to be able to sense Farrukh—they're just flailing blindly at where he appears to be—but the large box still manages to land a nasty blow. Farrukh feels sticky tentacles wrapping around him, trying to hold him tight.
The boxes and barrels begin to shift, becoming decidedly less box- and barrel-like as arms, tentacles and teeth begin to grow out of the creatures' slick bodies.
The box gripping Farrukh tightens its grip.
Meanwhile, the boxes on either side of him continue the assault.
Farrukh's invisibility protects him both times, though just barely.
Back at the door, the large barrel slams at Cuetzpalli again, looking about as annoyed as an eyeless barrel can get.
Again, Cuetzpalli's armor saves him from a nasty blow.
Farrukh, realizing he can't escape, instead tries to at least take control of the grapple.
Farrukh does the only thing he can, bunkers down and calls for help.
"I'm trapped in her, adhered to a a mimic and surrounded by 3 more, and I'm injured! Help would be appreciated!"
"What the!? Hold on Farrukh!" Cuetzpalli says, downing his extract. "Spiny, attack!"
The dinosaur steps forward and savages the giant barrel thing.
When Farrukh gets ambushed, Carina's attention snaps to the chaotic melee. "Hang in there--we're coming!" She says as she hops behind Tanith.
She pulls a vial from her belt, shakes it, says a small prayer, and throws it at the barrel...
Spiny finds his teeth and right claw stuck in the mimic's sticky hide.
When Farrukh gets ambushed, Carina's attention snaps to the chaotic melee. "Hang in there--we're coming!" She says as she hops behind Tanith.
She pulls a vial from her belt, shakes it, says a small prayer, and throws it at the barrel...
Carina's explosive vial burns both mimics badly, and they let out inhuman shrieks.
The moment Farrukh speaks up Tanith levels his poleaxe. With a shout he takes a mighty swing at the impeding (barrel?).
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"Doppelganger FURNITURE?" Eben shouts in surprise. "That's just wrong!" He plants his feet firmly and launches two arrows through the crowded doorway into the melee, aiming at the gooey wad of mimic that's enveloping Farrukh.
[dice=Reflex]1d20+8;1d20+8;1d20+8
Spiny finds his teeth and right claw stuck in the mimic's sticky hide.
Tanith hacks viciously into the box. It shudders, but remains standing.
Meanwhile, unnoticed to almost all, a tiny little arrow lodges itself in one of the pseudopods grappling Farrukh.
Meanwhile, unnoticed to almost all, a tiny little arrow lodges itself in one of the pseudopods grappling Farrukh.
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Up ahead, clouds rumble. Ehlonna herself gives a start and looks down into the mortal world, distracted from her eternal hunt for just one moment by a rare sight indeed: A single, perfectly-fired arrow.
Eben's arrow whistles through the air. It seems possessed of a supernatural fire, though of course this is only an illusion produced by the blinding speed with which it was launched. Its feathery fletching frays, stripped away through the arrow's rapid flight.
Boxes and Kettites alike pause for a fraction of a millisecond, gazing in awe at the projectile as it sails past. This arrow was shot with such care, such utter precision, that anything unfortunate enough to get in its path would instantly find itself torn in two by the sheer awesome might of the bow.
Eben's second arrow sinks into the stone floor, arrowhead shattering from the force of the impact. A crack forms in the stone, splitting all the way to the wall of the catwalk, going up, up toward the heavens, stopping only when it reaches the wooden roof.
A low groan emits from the masonry. The building seems to lurch, ever so slightly, before righting itself. The floor is dead. Eben has killed it.
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