Pick retches. Yum! He spits emphatically onto the floor for several seconds, face scrunched up, and hisses curses in Undercommon as he tries to wipe his tongue off.
"Tastes bad," he informs everyone else. (They could probably figure that out without tasting it, Pick.)
"No just taste water," Rhanloi hisses and glares in a fair imitation of Pick. "Old trick!! Bait!" He then laughs loudly at his impersonation, clapping the duergar on the shoulder jovially. "We should, however, see about removing this disgusting water so no one else is harmed by it. Again...more reasons to seal this area off!"
Pick favors Ran-loy with a narrow-eyed glare of loathing mixed with incomprehension. (Why are you making the happy noise, drow-cousin. Why are you touching Pick's shoulder without magic. Why why why.)
"No one else come. Maybe goblins. Goblins can drink bad water," he says sulkily.
Spear-woman invokes the tears of the land. A splash of water hits the altar, washing away the foul waters.
"There. Now, if you're ever thirsty, come to me. It isn't a good idea to drink from any random tankard you come by, Pick.", she says with a wink.
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Pick scowls. "Not thirsty."
There is no way he has the vocabulary to explain, actually, my people take advantage of various noxious substances to coat our weapons, as we ourselves are very resistant to corruption of the body by foreign substances and our hated foes the drow are usually susceptible to them; thus, acceptable scouting technique when encountering possibly toxic liquids is to field-evaluate them for use as weapons--
--so he spits onto the floor instead, again, trying to get the taste off his tongue.
"Why Spear close one eye?" he asks grumpily as he moves to the eastern door, looks it over cursorily.
Kyra looks at Scarnetti with a sense of incredulity. "MY job," she begins, "Is to go off and kill every last creature that seeks to threaten this place. I cannot be doing that and protecting you at the same time, I cannot be in two places at once."
"But you're right," she continues, "I cannot demand your help. So if you'd rather that your town were burned to the ground, your skin flayed from your body while you scream, and your flesh devoured in front of you, by all means, do nothing."
"Let me be clear, sir." She goes on, eyes narrowing, "This isn't a fist full of goblins. This is every tribe banded together with an elf-slayer bugbear and who knows what else. This is a battle the likes of which this town, and no one in it, has ever seen."
Hoping that will shut him up, at least momentarily, she turns to the others, pleased by their interest in helping. "I did not call any of you here in the hopes that you'd stand with me on the battlefield," she says. "I know my place, and I am sure that you know yours, and that isn't it. I have drawn up some plans for bolstering Sandpoint's defences."
She pulls out a map and spreads it across the desk, waiting for everyone to come up to it so she could point things out to them as she speaks.
"It is important that we do not arouse worry. Ameiko, I'd like you to take point on figuring out how to keep the public calm, what we can tell them, how we can hide what we're doing. The last thing we need is a panic. It will be too easy for the goblins to simply pick people off as they're fleeing the town. We also don't want them to find out about anything else we're up to."
First she pointed to The Old Light. "We'll set up a tower here so that we can watch the coast." She looks curiously at Aesrick to see if that meshes with him. Next she pointed to the Tanners Bridge and Sandpoint Bridge. "Podiver, I am hoping that you can make some explosives capable of destroying these bridges. Purely as a last resort."
"It also occurs to me," she looks sideways at Podiver, "that the hidden tunnel in the Glassworks was an ingenious way for them to gain admittance to the town. We'll deal with that one, but perhaps you can find out if there are any more such entrances? That's not the kind of thing we want to be surprised by."
"As for you, Sir Valdemar, perhaps we could get a couple of boats to patrol the harbour? If we filled them with archers and some of Sir Ilsoari's mages, they could take out some of the goblins on approach?"
"This brings us to Scarnetti and back to Podiver. I've been training our guard, and Hemlock has gone to Magnimar to request assistance from more, but I am not sure it will be enough. It seems to me that we might have some, ah, less than reputable sorts in town who would do anything for a bit of coin. I am hoping, Scarnetti, that you could finance this a bit. We'll likely need not only mercenaries, but also some labourers."
A'letta was momentarily stunned by the sincere question. He wasn't using sarcasm, was he? "One can add a wink to what he or she says to show the other it is only a joke, a silly thing not to be taken seriously.
The dirty, unholy water is splashed all over the floor by A'letta's water conjuration spell, and Pick moves to the double-doors going into the next room.
He doesn't find any traps or anything untoward, but, putting his ear to the door, he can hear a scratchy voice talking to itself, but just barely.
Aesrick is fairly confused by Kyra's request - "Are you suggesting that I climb The Old Light and then put a tower atop it, or that I simply build a watchtower? Because I don't need the Old Light for that. Not only that, but the Cathedral is quite large enough to see quite aways out of the town on its own."
He's right - the Sandpoint Cathedral is the largest and tallest thing for miles and miles, and you can see those miles from the top of it. It even is equipped with bells that are designed to be rung during times of panic.
At Kyra's request for her, Ameiko nods. "Of course, I can spread the word about the right things to do during a panic. You know, don't panic, stay in your homes, call for the Guard, yadda yadda. I got you. Don't expect me, though, if the battle comes to the streets, to stay indoors and cower."
Podiker strokes his unshaven but still nearly hairless chin, and comments on Kyra's plan. "I can create explosives, but I cannot leave them. If you wish me to explode a bridge, I have to be nearby. I can, alternately, burn the bridge down, but that will take much longer. I can also certainly return to you when I'm assured that there are no more secret entrances into town, of course."
Valdemar scoffs at Kyra's request. "Ilsoari's mages, fill them with archers...I think you believe our means are greater than they are. You have the town's military force below you, save for a few retired adventurers and that elf Shalelu. I'm happy to lend you a boat or two, provided they'll come back to be unharmed, but I feel there's little you can do with them." Ilsoari pipes up, as well. "He's right, I don't train kids in magic. I simply take care of parentless children. I am happy to lend my own skills, of course, but I cannot bring you a legion of spellcasting minors."
Scarnetti laughs at Kyra's request for him. "You want me to pay off some criminals to fight for you? That I can do, and I will if it'll get you out of my hair."
Joke? Jooooke. Something... not taken seriously? Why would you say something that was not meant to be listened to? Why would you make noise over something that wasn't important?
Pick turns this utter confusion over in his head, grimacing at the door. He would probably inquire further, but-- he hears sounds. He holds up a hand for silence, listening harder a moment.
He holds up one finger, then moves his hand in what he means as a 'yappy mouth' symbol, then points at the door.
His pick is drawn once more, and he waits for Khalbar to join him next to the door before he attempts to open it.
Since the Yappy Mouth symbol is universal, Khalbar understands there must be at least one person talking on the other side of the door - (apparently a teenage girl on her cell phone) - he steps up and nods down at the little fella to let her rip.
Pick nods at Khalbar, and tries the door!
The double doors fly open to reveal an immense underground cathedral. Stone doors stand to either side of the main entrance, but beyond this, the walls are carved with strange, spiky runes. In the center of the room is a large pool, with a ring of polished human skulls balanced on stone spikes arranged in a circle around the deeper midsection.
At the far end of the room, a pair of stone stairways leads up to a pulpit on which sits a second pool, this one triangular and filled with churning, bubbling water that looks almost like translucent lava, so bright is its yellow glow.
The room is deathly cold, and the chill nips at what exposed skin you have.
Standing atop the altar, almost not visible from this distance, is a tiny figure. Standing perhaps two feet tall and wearing a long black dress, leathery wings extend from her back and horns curve forward into her face. The creature turns, revealing large clawed hands and a toothy maw. An expression of rage clouds her beastly face as she screams, "You dare intrude upon the Mother's Sanctum? You will not leave here alive!"
At that, she slashes her own wrist and holds it over the bubbling yellow pool, letting the blood drip down into the water. The pool flashes brighter and then fades somewhat, but another one of the four-jawed abberations you've been fighting emerges from the water.
Initiative:
Erylium - 24
Khalbar - 20
A'letta - 20
Pick - 10
Rhanloi - 5
He hisses to himself in answer to the tiny winged creature's threat... and disappears from sight in a flicker of shadow.
Rhanloi draws some fine sand out of his pouch, whispers arcane words, and then blows it towards the vile creature on the altar. He then draws the wand of shocking grasp and prepares to meet the sinspawn...
A'letta carefully advances to face their foes. She knows that she cannot ask much more of the spirits for the day and keeps what few blessings remain in case any of her companions need healing.
The responses generally filled Kyra with disappointment. 'Town isn't prepared for anything,' she thought. 'Knew I should have taken it over myself.'
To Aesrick she replied, "Right, the Cathedral, of course. I may yet have something more for you, then. Let me go over what we've discussed here for the night."
Podiker's response left her feeling a bit worried. "Having to be nearby to destroy the bridge would be fine, except that we do have two." She thought for a second, before turning to Aesrick. "What about reworking the bridge so that it can be raised?"
Kyra was smiling by the end of Ameiko's promise. "Wouldn't have ever expected that of you." She is surprised, not for the first time, to find how glad she was that the girl hadn't died.
Ilsoari's response bothered her the most. "I hadn't realised." she replied. "Are there no other mages? What about the Cathedral, do they have magic users?"
She cocked an eyebrow at Valdemar. "50 Guards here, plus however many Hemlock can recruit. A half-dozen goblin slayers, Shalelu and her people. However many mercenaries we can pay. We are in considerably better shape than we were yesterday. I can't promise the boats will be unharmed, but if we survive I'll build you new ones with my bare hands."
She stood up looking more resolved than she felt. "I realise that there is a lot happening, and rather quickly. Until the other slayers return, hopefully with news, we do not even know when an attack may come. But if we work quickly, we can be prepared for it."
"If there is nothing else, I have some more plans to go over, and I suspect you all do as well. We can reconvene sometime tomorrow evening to discuss news and preparations. Thank you all for coming."
The ways and mannerisms of the tiny creature are so strange to Khalbar that he can make no sense with them. "We will send you back to your Mother...in a box." shouts Khalbar, rushing up one of the stone stairways where the monsters are.
Aesrick nods at her. "If you give me a few days, I think I might be able to do something to at least one bridge. Let me get my workers together."
Ilsoari strokes his chin. "Not organized. I know of a few others in the town with arcane prowess. If I have a few days, I could talk to them and maybe get some of them to tag along with me. I doubt the wizards have damaging spells scribed, but I could help them out with that. My spellbook collection is expansive. And yes, Father Zantus has a few acolytes, but I had assumed that you would want to keep them on healing duty."
Valdemar nods, cowed. He will lend two boats, and large ones, should she need them. He'll even have them crewed.
At her dismissal, the people she's gathered leave, to go about their own business along with the business she's given them.
Khalbar and A'letta advance on the little creature, spears upraised at it in solidarity, while Pick vanishes in a puff and Rhanloi tries to incapacitate the little lady with a lethargy spell. Unfortunately, he can see the spell simple bounce off of her, and the sinspawn, which stands right next to her, shakes off the effects as well.
The little creature scoffs at the humans, so silly were they to think that they could possibly defeat her and her minion. The minion charges forward to meet Khalbar while the little lady pushes off with her wings and soars above Rhanloi and the invisible Pick. Pointing back at Khalbar, she shouts at him, her words propelled by arcane force, "Drop it!" while the minion tries in vain to slash through his hide armor with its claw.
Initiative:
Erylium - 24
Khalbar - 20
A'letta - 20
Pick - 10
Rhanloi - 5
A'letta rushes forward to aid Khalbar and stabs the Sinspawn while it is focused on the large(r) Shoanti.
"So it wants to play that way, does it... Rhanloi mutters as he hurls his quarterstaff at the little critter, trying to knock it out of the sky!
Compelled for a moment to drop his new weapon, Khalbar instead swings it mightly at the sinspawn creature come to attack him. AFraid more than he shows of magics, Khalbar shouts at the creature to yield before his martial prowess.
Pick studies the flying, winged creature for a moment through narrowed eyes. Too high up for him to grab. He will only have one attack to strike unseen, he knows. The others seem to have the twisted thing well in hand.
Moving quietly, he lets his pick fall (letting his foot catch it to keep the noise of the dropped weapon from ringing off the room and drawing attention to him). The weapon becomes visible the instant it slips from his fingers, but he is wagering on the creature having other things to worry about immediately. And even if she sees the pick, she does not see him.
He draws his sling. He drops a stone into the sling's pocket, scanning with invisible eyes for his moment... sidling away from his now-visible weapon.
Between the two Shoanti, the sinspawn is hardly a difficult opponent. Tag-teaming it, they skewer the smaller, deformed creature with each of their spears, damaging it almost beyond recognition and sending it back to the Abyss where it belongs.
Below, Pick tries to prepare to strike at the flying creature invisibly. Switching from pick to sling, he schemes.
Rhanloi sends his staff flying up and into the sky, hitting the creature, although it hardly seems to even notice, keeping its eyes fixed on Khalbar and A'letta.
Raising a finger, it points at Khalbar yet again, letting a coruscating ray travel to him. Infuriatingly (to it) the ray flies right by Khalbar, missing him entirely.
Initiative:
Erylium - 24
Khalbar - 20
A'letta - 20
Pick - 10
Rhanloi - 5
Pick watches the winged little monster with his red eyes narrowed. There is a tactic he and the others of the people would use, in fighting the casters among the drow: to lurk unseen with weapons readied, then to wait for the first signs of gesturing or incantations to release their poisoned crossbow bolts or hurled rocks. Against the drow, this tactic could sometimes foil their concentration on their evil arts.
He tries this plan now.
Pick once more becomes visible, in a sudden flicker of leather armor and gray skin and crappy false beard.
Rhanloi deftly catches the quarterstaff when it returns to his hand, realizing the flying creature has some sort of damage resistance and his simple wooden staff wasn't going to bring it down. He was also out of magic. So he draws out his light crossbow and loads it, hoping his aim will improve and perhaps pierce a wing or something!
A'letta knew that she could not reach the vile creature hoovering above them. One option remained - to lure it down. She started making gestures, causing arcane whispers to flicker in the air above the pool. The tears of the spirits seeped through the rift, dilluting the foul liquid of the pool below.
Not sure what else I can do. Perhaps this pisses the thing off.
Khalbar looks up at the tiny flying demon. He will not be of much use against something that can disappear at will and stay out of range by flying. He shrugs and shoulders his ranseur, taking out his longbow. He is not particularly skilled as a shooter, but it's the only option left.
Khalbar switches weapons, growling under his breath while A'letta looses water into the lower pool, which is, apparently, basically just water. The water she creates is purses, but doesn't do much to dilute the dirtier but unmagical water.
Pick, becoming visible with a fling of a sling bullet, takes the little flying creature completely by surprise. Unfortunately, although he strikes it, his blow isn't powerful enough to get through its tough skin.
Rhanloi switches weapons as well, readying his crossbow to fire at the little creature.
Further incensed that these humans and their apparent duergar friend are intruding on her sanctum, the little creature waves her arms around to cast another spell, pointing at Pick. "Be still, little one!" His limbs freeze, and he finds himself completely unable to move in any way.
Initiative:
Erylium - 24
Khalbar - 20
A'letta - 20
Pick - 10
Rhanloi - 5
A'letta steps behind Khalbar and prays that his aim will be true.
Rhanloi fires at the critter, hoping the strength of his crossbow is enough to penetrate it's thick hide!
Pick briefly feels his muscles locking up... but shakes it off with a grimace. He stares up at the flyer. They need to bring the little winged one down, or this is all pointless.
For the second time today, Pick fishes out his grappling hook and rope from his pack.
Once he has a clear shot at the tiny bugger, Khalbar lets an arrow rip from his longbow, complete with divine guidance from A'letta.
Throughout the battle, as spell after spell failed, an expression of pure rage began to grow on the little winged creature's face, uninterrupted by the fact that Khalbar and Rhanloi's ranged attacks seem unable to hurt her, she is so pissed.
Screaming a curse in Abyssal, she flies directly at Rhanloi, the most fragile-seeming member of the group, claws bared and teeth wide open.
Slashing right through his incorporeal armor and compensating for his dodging maneuver, her claws sink into his flesh. Thankfully, she isn't the strongest of creatures, so the perforations don't go deep. Unthankfully, her claws drip a poison that dulls his reactions and slows his body.
The plan with the grappling hook is forgotten the instant the winged creature flies within reach. Pick drops rope and hook and sprints (on his stubby legs) for her while she is still near the drow-cousin.
"Grab," he hisses to anyone who'll listen.
Aaaaand he fails with cosmic failing. What are hands? How do they work?
With the creature descending to rip Rhanloi apart, A'letta seizes the opportunity and joins in on the action. Unsure whether her non-magical spear will do anything, she thrusts with all the sense of urgency one has when the life of a companion is at stake.
Rhanloi is suddenly weakened, but while the creature is within range, he drops the crossbow, draws the wand of shocking grasp, and tries to zap it!
Khalbar throws down his ineffectual bow and rushes along with Pick to grapple the little critter.