Drael cries out as Rafyyk falls through a section of what had once been the floor above, sending another arrow up at the nearest pugwampi in an attempt to distract them from his comrade's momentary vulnerability.
Down here, you accursed vermin!
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The suli looses an arrow at the nearest pugwampi unobscured by the wizard's fog spell, catching it square in the chest.
The punctured pugwampi is propelled backwards off of the beam to fall twenty feet to the chapel floor below.
The wet splat is enough to tell of the fate of that foe. One of his companions fires a retributive arrow at Drael.
The arrow hits the ground in front of the suli harmlessly.
The burly half-orc moves toward the edge of his conjured fog, slinging another spray of acid at the nearest pugwampi up in the rafters.
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The wizard flings a glob of acid at one of the pugwampi. Unfortunately, the combination of his aim and the obscuring mist from within which he is firing prevents contact. The pugwampi regroup, hoping to bring ruin upon the gang assaulting them a second time, and most specifically, on the member who has dropped two of their group already - Drael.
A swarm of arrows flies at the suli. One arrow finds a purchase in Drael's calf. Rafyyk gets up and roars with frustration, heading for the ladder once more.
Drael growls as another arrow leaves a deep scratch, doing his best to return the favor,
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Uzma peers across the chaos, trying to see any clue as to how to cross the rotten balcony without risking life or limb. Unfortunately, no answer presents itself. The druid thinks, with time and intense concentration , the gang would be able to traverse the precarious are without difficulty. He regards the bony chandelier tied at the edge of the balcony for a moment, but ultimately decides that it does not hold the answer.
In the meantime, a snarling pugwampi fires an arrow at the druid, annoyed by the intruders, but determined to eject them from its domain.
The arrow ends Uzma's pensive moment, lodging into his shoulder.
Korum snarls at the pugwampi above, wishing dearly he'd thought to bring a crossbow, or had bothered to train more with his axe. His fingers make the familiar movements to conjure another small quantity of acid into existence, which he hurls up at the creatures.
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The wizard's acid blob hits the underside of the balcony.
Two of the pugwampi fire on the recently-arrived druid, while one continues to fling arrows at Drael.
Despite the heat curtain surrounding the druid, a further arrow finds a home in his left flank. Drael takes another arrow from above in his back.
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The slower of the four pugwampi fires his bow at the reeling druid.
The poor druid continues to soak up arrows, his cotton caftan stained with his own blood in multiple areas. Rafyyk's head pokes up out of the ladder opening to the balcony, blocked by Uzma's form and the heat emanating from his body. "Move, blast it!" he roars in frustration.
Drael scowls as another arrow pierces his arm, accidentally releasing his drawn bowstring before having aimed properly. He roars up to the rafters in frustration, Is there room up there, or would you prefer me down here still?
As Layaali enters the old monastery, she dusts the sand from her clothes and pats dry the sweat on her brow. But soon her hopes for rest and respite are shattered. She hears sounds of a pitched battle coming from within the chapel. Dashing forward without a care for her own safety, like any true follower of Vildeis, Layaali rushes down the wide, shallow set of stairs into an obvious chamber of worship with ruined stone pews and crumbling balconies from whence the whiz of arrows and shouts of battle emanate. A cloud of fog rests around the pews off to her left . She sees a wounded man aiming a bow up at something in the rafters, but her clouded vision doesn't allow her to see far enough to discern his target.
Vildeis, bless my efforts to save these righteous souls, she prays as she draws her holy symbol in her hand, it's carved wood, painted gold with the image of a dented and cut breastplate.
Layaali quickly places a hand upon the man's shoulder (Drael's) to heal his wounds. Vildeis, glorious Cardinal Martyr, please take this man's wounds upon your self that he may continue to fight for your cause.
damage.
"Are there any other wounded?" she asks him. "I can help!"
Layaali looks like a physically weak, well-groomed woman in fine desert robes, with wavy brown hair pulled up in a bun. Despite her frail form she doesn't seem bothered by the sounds and sights of combat. Her eyes are covered in a golden sheen.
Korum nods his approval at Layaali's abrupt assistance. "Thank whatever god or goddess you worship, Madam!" He turns his attention back up toward the creatures up on the roof. "And I ask also that he or she damn these creatures promptly!"
As he finishes speaking, his hands complete the motions required to conjure a third ball of corrosive acid. He pitches it, overhand, at the nearest pugwampi.
"I pray that through me the Cardinal Martyr can take your wounds upon himself, good sir!"
Also, you are correct about the ladder and the rafters. I have no idea what the blue dot is.
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As the worshipper of Vildeis takes in the scene, she realises the chaotic melee that she has been plunged into. A half-orc wielding arcane energies and a fiery-looking rake of a man with a bow sport numerous arrow wounds as the huddle near the centre of the base of stairs leading out of the chapel. Above, a crude and grotesque bone chandelier dangles to the right from what appears to be choir lofts 20 feet above the ground, lit dramatically and indirectly from above, throwing dim light to the floor below. A large cloud of fog obscures the majority of the western half of the room, but from within the cloud and above, an urgent voice sounds out. "Move, blast it!"
Arrows rain down from vicious-looking canine creatures that Layaali knows to be pugwampi from her previous experiences in this sun-drenched land. She knows that luck does not follow those that follow the pugwampi. Vildeis may need to be further beseeched for their survival.
Happy to have healed the rakish looking man, and already praying and preparing to heal the half-orc beside her, Layaali tries to pinpoint the voices calling out above her. More allies performing Vildeis' will? I only hope the pugwampi don't cause too much more harm before I can aid them...
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The pugwampi closest to the gang fires his bow at the distracting druid.
The druid takes yet another arrow as his half-orc colleague rushes forward, incensed and intent upon cleaving the irritating rodent in twain. Rafyyk leaps to an intact portion of the balcony next to the nearest pugwampi.
Another crack and pop as the half-orc plummets out of sight again, landing heavily below on the stone chapel floor within the cloud of mist. Korum, Drael, and Layaali see the body of Rafyyk hit with a wet crunch.
Finished with her prayer to Vildeis for aid, Layaali reaches out and heals Korum, placing a hand on the worst looking of his wounds.
Hearing a presumed ally fall to the ground, Layaali moves forward, clambering over broken pews to find the unfortunate half-orc.
Getting the half-orc in her sights she glances to see if he's wounded.
Drael winces as Rafyyk hits the ground, sparing a glance to see if he's still moving before releasing another arrow to the rafters.
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Korum sighs in relief at the healing touch of the newcomer.
"Thank you, sweet woman. Now, to tend to these creatures."
The half-orc lifts his arms once more, the incantation as familiar as breathing, and flings acid upward at the nearest Pugwampi.
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The fallen half-orc is stunned but alive. He growls and tries to stand as the aasimar comes up to him. ”Who?...What?...” he manages as Layaali approaches.
The wizard’s acid glob connects with the lead pugwampi who hisses in return. Uzma glances around frantically for something to further break down the balcony under the pugwampi’s feet. Drael’s arrow strikes the underpinnings (in name only) of the rotten choir lofts.
"I've come to help you," Layaali explains quickly to the stunned half-orc. "Hold still while I tend your wounds."
"Honoured Vildeis, take notice of this righteous soul! I pray you take this man's wounds upon yourself that he may enact your will!". Layaali reaches out as she prays aloud, healing the wounded man hiding in the mist beside her. (Uzma)
Then she closes the rest of the distance to the stunned half-orc.
Drael's lips tighten as he sees Uzma taking more fire while retreating, but he stands his ground and does his best to distract the creatures with another shot.
Korum's tight-lipped expression is one of grim determination. "I will climb up there and wring their necks if I must..."
Acid flies up toward the newly-singed Pugwampi.
Having scouted some of the lesser landmarks around the monastery at Alma's request and turning up with nothing, Osonia was beginning to wonder if this trip had been such a good idea.
From what she could tell, the heat of the Katapeshi desert was effecting her far less than her comrades: while they sweated, she was comfortable; while their lips became chapped and eyes watered from the coarse sand blowing in the wind, she soldiered on unhindered.
The thing that bothered her, though, is that she remembered nothing of this place. The monastery did not seem familiar. The far-off-view of Kelmerane itself held no kind of epiphanic presence in her mind. She had expected to be at least excited at the sight of her birthplace, but all she felt was... disappointment.
As she drew nearer to the monastery, she could hear quite a racket coming from inside! Had her scouting put her farther from the action?! She couldn't help but feel ridiculous: it was her role to preempt danger, and her group had fallen directly into the lion's den! Had she failed her mission so early on?!
"Gods damnit!" she chides herself, "What in the nine Hells was I thinking!?"
Osonia draws her shortbow and sprints into the chapel to find the battle already in-progress. She attempts to take in the chaos and find how she might be the most useful. Her father's words echoed in her mind:
"A warrior's role is not to seek glory, it is to seek cohesion. Your allies are your lifeline and you are theirs. A warrior who fights solely for oneself is but a mercenary and a coward."
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Korum's acid blob hits a bannister just to the left of the lead pugwampi as their new colleagues rush the room.
The obscuring fog conjured by Korum still exists to provide some ground cover to those below - in short, the entire party since Uzma's descent last round. The pugwampi snarl with frustration but do not pursue the gang down the ladder, preferring to take shots at targets they can see.
None of the arrows land as the now-harmless missiles clatter to the floor.
Layaali places her hands upon Rafyyk and pleads for Vildeis to heal him.
Then she draws her crossbow.
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Rafyyk shakes his head and stares at the otherworldly Layaali.
"Thank...you...?" Rafyyk's unsteady voice betrays his disbelief at Layaali's appearance.
The half-orc stands, pulls out his broken light crossbow, and then remembers the state of his weapon.
"Does anyone have a sling or a crossbow that they're not using?" he bellows. "Those bastards jinxed mine!"
Drael looks over as Rafyyk rises, Can you use this? He asks, holding his shortbow in the air after another failed shot.
Layaali holds out her crossbow to Rafyyk at his request. She has 20 bolts clearly in view in a holster on her hip if he needs bolts, but she has no actions to draw and hand them over right now.
"May Vildeis bless you, as he has done me." she tells him with a serene smile.