Initiative: Mez | Norine | Dracothis | Ebon* | Tod* | Undead*
* = following round
Status
Ebon: 6/14 HP
Mez: 9/12 HP; paralyzed (2 rounds)
Dracothis: 4/12 HPGhoul (Green): 6 damage
Zombie (Blue): 6 damageOOC
Sorry Mez. :(Norine, you're right! That's a rule that I didn't know. You certainly qualify for cover so you don't provoke.
That means you and Ebon should probably be in different places (where you moved to originally so that he could flank). I moved you both back, but if this isn't right, then do feel free to start elsewhere...
Norine fills her allies with warm, life-giving energy, stifling the pain of their wounds for now. Dracothis thrusts his rapier at the ghoul, but it is able to weave out of the way. Ebon brings his greatsword down upon the bronze-armoured zombie with a roar of rage, but his blow is too strong, and the sheer force of it bouncing harmlessly off the legionnaire's half-plate nearly causes him to drop his father's sword. Tod begins to sing, evoking a feeling of courage in the brave Pathfinders that battle these horrible undead...
The ghoul attacks Dracothis, ripping along his sword hand with its left claws but unable to make contact with either its nasty teeth or right hand. The legionnaire is about as clumsy as Ebon, its weak sword slash easily deflected by the flat of the barbarian's blade.
Heroes are up
Initiative: Mez | Norine | Dracothis | Ebon* | Tod* | Undead*
* = following round
Status
Ebon: 2 (4)/14 (16) HP
Mez: paralyzed (1 round)
Dracothis: 7/12 HPGhoul (Green): 9 damage
Norine fills everyone with warmth once again, and Mez feels remarkably better--not only has the claw wound completely healed, he can feel a tingling in his arms and legs, and he can wriggle his fingers and toes just a little.
Dracothis thrusts his rapier into the mummified ghoul's dessicated body, and it hisses angrily at him. Ebon, meanwhile, regains his footing and slices the zombie's head right off. The helmeted head rolls a short distance away with a clank, spreading black ichor on the ground, while the body simply collapses under the weight of the bronzed plate armour.
Tod continues to inspire the group with a magnificent song of battle and heroism.
The ghoul, apparently fed up with its inability to paralyse the bard, limberly slips away from Dracothis before he can react and circles around beside the table set with the tools of mummification. It lunges at Ebon and sinks its fangs into his shoulder, ripping away flesh that it then proceeds to consume.
The pain is quite severe , but at least he is able to move.
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We need a lot of things in this battle, but perhaps what we need most is a Bit of "Luck, Ebon!" Norine strides forward and slaps Ebon on the back.
Between Dracothis and Ebon, the Osiriani ghoul is slain in short order, its limp body left to hang over the mummification tools, and the Pathfinders are able to breathe for the moment. Through sheer force of will, Mez finds himself able to slowly move his arms and legs, and with the blood pumping again, recovers control of his body.
- The jewelled scarab on the chest of the Osiriani ghoul detects as magical.
- The Kellid skeleton was using a well-made greatclub fashioned from ivory.
- The Qadiran skeleton was wielding a masterwork silver scimitar.
- The armoured zombie was wearing a suit of bronze half-plate and wielding a longsword.
The room now appears silent, still but for the swirling mists that seem to form laughing monkey faces in the corner of your eyes.
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Norine, still reeling from the desperate, dire brutality of the conflict, tries to regain her senses. "That was closest that I can still remember to not surviving an attack by the walking dead," she says, perhaps nonsensically.
"At least they are free now," remembering the revelation regarding slavery and undeath provided by the Andorran.
Looking around, Norine asks, "How do we all fare? I have this wand of healing...", looking at the stick that has, for her, lost some of its shine.
Ebon:
Ebon:
Dracothis:
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"Take heart Mez, hopefully none of us need to endure your fate in this past encounter. I have used one of my spells for today, which means I have only one more. I think I will try to save it for when our need grows dire. Still, we have won a hard-fought victory. I am ready to move forward when everyone else is ready too."
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Dracothis sheathes his rapier, after cleaning the ichor from it on the ghoul's ragged clothing. He smiles as the warmth from the gnome's wand flows over him. "My thanks, Norine. What should we do with the gear?" he wonders aloud. "Can those of you skilled in the arcane arts determine what properties the amulet may have?"
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Norine ponders for a moment, "I would not feel good about taking any of these items as treasure as that would certainly ... further strain the relationship between Aldain and the Society. But, we could borrow something if necessary."
Norine gives an apologetic shrug about the amulet.
"Perhaps there are some other items here that may be useful? I did not pray for the ability to detect magic today... Dracothis, you were speaking earlier about the legends - perhaps there is some item to combat them here?" Norine begins to examine the rest of the exhibit, praying for Guidance trying desperately to look straight ahead and ignore the corners of her vision. What is it with me about monkeys? Norine shudders.
Norine after the recent unpleasant surprise, is seemingly hyperaware!
Must not be caught off guard as before!
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" Thank you little one. All better now."
He says with a grin as he stands straight and holds his sword aloft.
Ebon looks tired and weak compared to earlier, and bothered by something.
Suddenly he spins and stabs at the air next to him, swearing in Shoanti and whispering to himself."Damn monkeys! Stand still."
In her hyperaware and quite paranoid state, Norine is unable to detect any other being in the west exhibit hall. She moves to the door of the offices; it was once a pane of expensive frosted glass, but it now lies in broken shards on the floor. Trying to avoid the worst of the glass fragments, she has a long peek inside, ears straining to hear anything.
Within the office, several desks lie overturned, papers in disarray, and chairs smashed to kindling. A sturdy steel cabinet sits against the back wall, its doors much battered and dented. The mist here roils near the floor and ceiling, creating a strange patch of visibility stretching from knee-height to a few feet overhead. The smoky tendrils flow up and down the walls unnaturally and savage visages swirl to life, fanged mouths agape, before dissolving into the mist once more.
When Norine returns to report her findings to the group, you suddenly hear the door to the exhibit creak open. Everyone leaps to alert as a shadowy figure moves slowly through the mist, sending giant shadows looming like a spectre above you. Hands on weapons, the Pathfinders ready to attack... just as a familiar face emerges from the fog: it's Targost!
He seems to be looking quite apologetic for being so late to the party...
Targost has no idea what Mez is talking about. He's fine, after all...?
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Norine, finally realizing what has transpired with Targost, is momentarily speechless.
"Targost, Dracothis explained how the evil mists come in through the nose and mouth to turn men mad! ... Well, I guess you are immune or fortunate. Still, let's get you a scarf in case your fortune runs out." Norine takes off the shortened remnants of her cloak and makes two more scarves, one of which she offers insistently to Targost, and one she keeps for any other surprise arrivals.
She'll then resume her exploration of the exhibit while she waits for the others to finish.
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" HA! Welcome back amongst us friend Targost! It seems we are beset with magical and Undead things, so you are most welcome indeed. By the way, do you see a vengeful looking little monkey on my shoulder? I don't feel him, but catch glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye. Most infuriating."
Now that they are no longer animated Ebon seems to have no interest in the creatures or the gear they carry. Aside from hallucinating, seems ready to continue on.
The ghoul's scarab appears to be some kind of bird feather token. Looking closely enough, they are able to determine that there is some kind of message already set inside the scarab, written in Ancient Osiriani. It appears to be some kind of last will and testament, never sent.
Perception:
Initiative:
Norine, searching around the room while the group greets Targost and readies themselves to move on, discovers another corpse standing against the wall of the exhibit hall... however, unlike the other dead that have been awakened by the horrible mists, this one remains dead, stubbornly refusing the call. It is a Mwangi warrior, his body preserved in hot mud. In his hands he holds a single, bone-handled kukri with a jade-carved blade.
You know that the kukri is specially designed and sanctified to destroy the Tik Taan.
The door to this chamber was once a pane of expensive frosted glass, but it now lies in broken shards on the floor. Within the office, several desks lie overturned, papers in disarray, and chairs smashed to kindling. A sturdy steel cabinet sits against the back wall, its doors much battered and dented. The mist here roils near the floor and ceiling, creating a strange patch of visibility stretching from knee-height to a few feet overhead. The smoky tendrils flow up and down the walls unnaturally and savage visages swirl to life, fanged mouths agape, before dissolving into the mist once more.
The group enters the mysterious, mist-shrouded offices, looking around for any sign of Nigel. As they do so, there's a sudden bestial scream of rage as two shadows leap down from the ceiling, trying to use their whole body as a weapon to attack you! Norine manages to push her assailant away, but Targost isn't quick enough, and he grunts in pain as the person punches him in the eye.
These two people seem to be human, and yet... not. Their eyes are filled with madness, and they carry themselves with a hunchback, like a gorilla's movement. Their simple worksmen clothes are ripped around their upper arms, shoulders, and thighs, as if the rather bulging muscles had only recently sprouted there. They seem to be raving under their breath in between bestial hoots and cries: "Da'Tunga! Da'Tunga! He comes! He comes! They call! They cry! They cry for us! Da'Tunga! Da'Tunga!"
As soon as their chanting begins, you hear a loud and hoarse scream come from within the steel cabinet. "NOOOOOO! NOT AGAIN!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"
Initiative: Targost | Norine | Mist-Tainted | Todric | Ebon | Dracothis | Mez
Status
Targost: 4/6OOC
Incidentally, the steel cabinet is the thing just below Ebon and left of Mez.
Targost and Norine are up!
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Norine asks who would like to borrow the kurki, "I remember you talking about bone and stone knives, Dracothis, used for killing the evil spirits," struggling to remember the exact words after so much has happened in so short a time.
~~
In the offices, Norine dodges between Mez and the insane brute, more confident in Ebon's abilities to strike the thing down than her own, but strikes out with her shillelagh, perhaps foolishly.
"May Desna guide my hand!"
Nora, you arrogant fool!
Initiative: Todric | Ebon | Dracothis | Mez | Targost* | Norine* | Mist-Tainted*
* = following round
Map Screencap
Status
Targost: 4/6Mist-Tainted (Red): 5 damage
OOC
Apparently the dice roller is apologising for me rolling insanely well last combat and is giving you guys some good luck this time...
Targost's small droplet of acid seems to expand mid-air as it splashes onto his assailant's face, causing the bestial man to screech in pain. Norine, however, finds her deity's luck is not with her, and her club swing lands nowhere near her target.
Forgetting about Targost, the first mist-tainted man attempts to roughly shoulder Todric, but the bard easily sidesteps the clumsy blow. Likewise, the second seems to beat almost aimlessly on Norine's armour.