Rhanloi, in response to the danger, begins to cast a summoning spell to summon an earth elemental. The spell will be completed in a few seconds, and the earth elemental begins to take shape.
The necromancer waves his hands and shouts out verbal components, and a cloud takes shape in the room, extending into the stairwell. The cloud smells of everything completely unbearable that you've ever thought of, and you have to try hard to resist the urge to just run away.
Rhanloi is Nauseated. His stomach heaves and he finds himself unable to complete his summoning spell, the knowledge of which whisks itself out of his brain.
Khalbar, however, is a powerful and strong warrior, and emerges from the smoke with his greataxe swinging. He finds the zombies in between himself and his target, and so he destroys one with a single swipe.
The zombies all swing two-handed blows towards Khalbar with their fists.
Initiative:
Rhanloi - 20
Caizarlu - 6
Khalbar - 3
Rhanloi loses the contents of his stomach all over the floor, so he scuttles away from the stench and calls out hoarsely to his companions upstairs. "Help!! Zombies! Necrouuurrrrppppp..."
Rhanloi coughs and staggers halfway up the stairs and lets out a cry for help, something that only Flibble hears, three stories above. He only manages to make it halfway up the stairs, and still feels sick to his stomach.
He is nauseated for more rounds.
Below, Caizarlu the necromancer continues to engage his friend Khalbar. He points a finger and fires a coruscating black ray at the barbarian while his zombies try to slam Khalbar a second time.
Khalbar is struck by the ray and feels himself weaken - his armor begins to feel heavier and heavier, and his weapon feels like lead in his hands. His ability to swing it is weakened significantly. To top it off, two more of the zombies slam into him with their fists, bruising him and popping bones.
Initiative:
Rhanloi - 20
Caizarlu - 6
Khalbar - 3
As the man takes a swing at Pick, Kyra swears under her breath, before launching a series of punches at him, arguably being too rough on someone who is clearly both ill and unstable.
Kyra takes a step into the cell beside Pick and, in the space of a few moments, has broken several of the sick man's ribs and snapped his neck with a pair of powerful punches.
The now-dead man falls to the ground, his mouth lolling open and leaking foamy spit.
Pick is readying to swing and get revenge on the one who just hurt him, but before he can, Hammer has done the job. He arches brows at the clean work she has made of him, then gives Hammer a respectful/admiring nod.
Though the ray seems to sap his strenghth and the hits from the zombies are bone-jarring, Khalbar powers through them, rage against undead things building inside him. The barbarian's swing cleaves from the first zombie to the second.
With a roar, his fury becomes evident as his axe blazes into the next zombie. "For Alia, for Harm" he cries over and over again.
Rhanloi is curled up on the stairs, groaning and rocking slightly while trying not to vomit...
Kyra looks down at the crumbled body of the bodyguard, thinking that all of this went much better in her imagination. She scarcely has time to dwell on it, though, as Flibble hears the sounds of fighting from further below and urges them downwards.
Suspecting that the four of them could handle it, 'If not, then I need better acquaintances anyway', Kyra takes a moment to consider the Bodyguard's words, still unsure of what they might mean.
She snaps her fingers as an idea comes to mind. Whether Habe had known what the Bodyguard was talking about or not, it seemed unlikely (especially now) that he'd ever tell her, but maybe he would have written it down somewhere. Leaving a trail of bodies behind her, Kyra starts exploring the building, looking for Habe's office, and any notes that he may have kept.
Roaring with rage but burdened by necromancy magic, Khalbar blazes through multiple zombies, destroying one in the latter half of his swing and badly damaging the body of the first one he hits.
The old man grunts in frustration as he tries to slide things from his desk into an open bag. Half-done with doing so, he stands up straight and flicks out a hand. "Just lose already, you big Shoanti lug!"
Three flicks of magical light fly from his hand and strike Khalbar. While he's hit by the magic, the remaining two zombies try to get at him.
One zombie stumbles and misses him entirely with its gross, meaty fist. The other one, though, slams into Khalbar, whose complete disregard for his own safety has leaned him into the zombie's blow, giving it extra force.
Initiative:
Rhanloi - 20
Caizarlu - 6
Khalbar - 3
Battered and bloodied from the zombie's smash attacks, Khalbar hears his allies coming down the stairs, looking over at the retching Rhanloi, he knows he has to stand firm, even if it means his like until the others arrive.
With a raging shout, he whirls his axe once more striking out at the zombie on his right, cleaving through him at the zombie on the left.
Khalbar, swinging his axe to and fro like a madman, destroys the remaining two zombies in front of him. Now, nothing stands in between him and the necromancer. And the necromancer knows it. He quivers in his boots, but still casts a spell. Multiple duplicates of him appear, confusing Khalbar as to which one to strike.
Then, the necromancer spreads his hands and settles down into a more stable pose, apparently readying himself for melee combat.
Initiative:
Rhanloi - 20
Caizarlu - 6
Flibidnick - 5
Pick - 5
Khalbar - 3
Pick dashes into the room, barely pausing at the stinking gasses that flood the small space. He breathed the subterranean fumes of the deep places as a small one; this does not bother him.
Coming in, he sees one foe standing, and the Big Man savagely injured. Pick is torn: his instincts tell him to attack the enemy, but there is the voice of the old female in his head: stand as one, fight together, many hands stronger, strength is in the clan.
Teeth bared, Pick dashes to the big man, hissing in the tongue of the People, when they must say words. His hand reaches out to touch the big man.
Feeling the grimy hands of the strange dwarf on him, Khalbar, enveloped in the red mist of battle fury, turns savagely, bringing his axe around to cleave at poor Pick.
Only at the last moment, does Khalbar's higher brain function kick in and stop the haft of the axe mere inches from a decapitating blow on the his ally.
Grunting unintelligibly, Khal now feels the healing magic flow through him, calming and soothing. bringing him out of his battle rage, and back to a more normal state.
Pointing at the duplicates of the old necromancer, Khalbar states "Old man thinks tricks will save him. I just slew 4 zombies, we will break these little tricks too. Pick-dwarf, you take the right side, and I will deal with the other two."
He then steps forward and swings at the leftmost image, not really caring if its the correct one or not, knowing that his axe will end this all in a matter of time.
Flibble and Pick both plunge through the cloud of poison smoke, Pick easily running through whilst breathing because of his combined inborn and acquired immunities to poison, and Flibble because of a carefully-timed breath and a few moments of resolve.
Pick approaches Khalbar and heals him with a newly-learned spell. Cracked bones reset themselves carefully, while Khalbar charges the necromancer with a newly-clear head, destroying one of the necromancer's mirror images.
In response to Khalbar's taunt, the old necromancer scoffs. "Bah. One, two, three of you. It doesn't matter. You're standing in the way of a beneficial arrangement."
Caizarlu attempts to cast defensively... and not only does he fail to keep a hold on his spell, but he opens himself up to Khalbar's assault.
Above, Rhanloi writhes on the ground of the first floor , waiting for the poison to work its way through his system.
Initiative:
Rhanloi - 20
Caizarlu - 6
Flibidnick - 5
Pick - 5
Khalbar - 3
Caizarlu - 35
After a few moments of searching, Kyra finds Habe's office on the second floor, nearest his three other patients. The office is unlocked, and its small square form organized and tidy. An oak desk hosts several shelves covered in notes. Two bookshelves contain many tomes on mental and physical health, as well as on anatomy and psychology.
A quick review of the shelves on the desk reveals Grayst's file to be on top. Quick, clipped notes review his behavior upon being admitted.
With the duplicates down to two, Khalbar watches them begin casting. His natural fear of magic takes over, and he swings again, as the necromancer tries to concentrate on his spell, trying to disrupt the entire process.
Kyra frowns at the file, having hoped that it might shed more information than it has. Sighing, she grabs the notes from it, thinking that this Caizarlu might have some more information. "This entire trip was worthless." She scowls, tossing the file back onto the desk carelessly.
The phrase 'Too many teeth' keeps running through Kyra's head, and as much as she feels like it should mean something, like it's important, she cannot make any sense of it. "Master." she mutters, as she walks out of the room, going in search of her comrades. "All for me."
Pick flinches when Khalbar wheels with the axe, ready to hit him it seems-- but the Big Man's eyes clear, and he stops his blow. Pick gives a small nod of relief as he scrambles into position to work with the big man on their foe.
One of the images puffs in a sparkle of sorceries destroyed.
Pick and one of Flibble's magic missiles strike at the necromancer, but both happen to strike the same mirror image at the same time, causing it to wink out. The necromancer now stands unprotected.
If he fails, this will likely be his last attempt at anything, so he tries to cast defensively.
He manages to keep his guard long enough to cast a spell, and his hands glow with a cold energy. He lunges out at Khalbar desperately.
He latches onto Khalbar and the barbarian feels frost jar his bones. It threatens to restrict his muscle movement, but he shakes off the rime.
Above, Kyra descends the stairs to the ground floor to find Rhanloi writhing on the floor, though she finds him beginning to recover.
Initiative:
Rhanloi - 20
Caizarlu - 6
Flibidnick - 5
Pick - 5
Khalbar - 3
Caizarlu - 35
The last frost filled burst proved too much for Khalbar. Staggered he steps back from the fight, searching in his belt pack for something, anything, that can keep him on his feet.
As the lights start to go out, his fingers close around a bottle of healing tonic, and he pulls it out, drinking the last drop just before unconsciousness takes him.
Pick shoots a slightly worried look at Big Man, but swings again with his namesake weapon, teeth bared as he tries to force the enemy back into a corner.
Above, Rhanloi finally recovers. As he stands up, the stinking cloud that incapacitated him disappates and below, the wizard that cast it is struck by a trio of magic missiles.
Initiative:
Rhanloi - 20
Caizarlu - 6
Flibidnick - 5
Pick - 5
Khalbar - 3
Once the nausea subsides, Rhanloi steps back into the room and casts sleep at the necromancer. He wanted the cretin alive for questioning...if possible.
The old man stiffens up when he sees Rhanloi and realizes what's happening, but his muscles relax, his eyes droop, and he falls to the ground snoring once the enchantment takes hold. There was nothing he could do.
Rhanloi will leave the tying of the necromancer to those better skilled...he was interested in the lab and the books. He was hoping to find some indication that this man was involved in the murders - especially the undead creature that walked along the bottom of the river.
Khalbar leans against his axe, catching is breath for another few seconds until he gets his wind back. After that, he goes and investigates the zombies, seeing if any are familiar or have anything unusual about them.\\
Khalbar continues sifting through the undead corpses, looking for something, anything.
Kyra walks down the stairs in time to see the results of the battle, but not any of what took place. Instead she sees Khalbar wounded, Rhanloi looking like he's been crying, a sleeping old man, and some harmless looking corpses. She snorts. "Don't tell me a tired old man almost bested you, the Goblin Slayers of Sandpoint."
She takes a look around the room. "Anything down here that might shed some light on the bodyguard's story?"
Pick blinks when their foe falls asleep... then stolidly begins to search him, fingers deftly taking away any weapons he finds, and the little bag of this-and-that that magic-users use. Pah.
Then, he tears a strip from the old man's robe, and double-binds the man's wrists, tightly. No waving of hands for spells for you, dead-maker.
He grunts at Hammer's appearance.
"Old man make dead walk. UN-dead."
The company searches the room while Pick sifts through the man's body and ties his hands together. Pick finds a masterwork dagger tucked into the man's waist, two wands, two potions, a key ring, a spell component pouch and a pouch jangling with coins.
Kyra feels her way around the room and in the desk that he was using, she finds a little slot in a table leg. Within is a third wand.
In Caizarlu's bag, still sitting at the foot of the table where he tried to unpack into it, there sit a couple of scrolls, some surgical tools, a few sticks of chalk, and some other random tools.
The room to the right is completely empty - just a plain stone room that stinks of undeath and rot. The room to the left is a spartan bedroom. It contains a simple bed, a sturdy table, and a plain wooden chair. Two books sit atop the desk, along with an inkpot and a set of writing implements.