On the ground, Theran continued to bleed.
Theran continues to bleed like a champion.
Steave kicks the wounded mongrelman in front of him.
Steave kicked the mongrel before him again and the creature staggered, dazed. It swung wildly back at him before withdrawing from the crusader's reach. Its companion struck at Steave as well and again found only his shield. Another cultist moved to replace the one who withdrew, taking a slash from Galin as it arrived. It retaliated at once, but the warpriest easily ducked its clumsy attack and the next that followed as the final cultist pressed in, stepping over Theran to do so.
Steve's mongrel is staggered.
Two for Steave
two misses
One rushes up to Steave, provoking off Galin
misses all around
Galin pressed his attack on the wounded mongrel that he could reach, but the barricades brought him up short of landing a wounding blow.
Up above, Saito and the noncombatants warily looked for an ambush.
Yridhrennor reloads his crossbow once more, and takes careful aim. I've been lucky so far, Falfaeren. Let's hope the gods still smile on me. He breathes in and out, calming himself. His friends are counting on him. [b]This is just like that time in the Seven Trials of Kendrik Tha'ndar! I can't believe it! I'm in one of my own stories![b]
He takes one more calming breath and fires.
Yridhrennor reloaded and fired again, felling the mongrel that Steave had kicked nearly to unconsciousness.
Getting his bearings, Abelard marches up alongside Steave and cuts at the mongrelman in front of him.
Theran bled on the ground, nearly surrounded by foes who, to his great fortune, had more pressing worries than the man barely clinging to life at their feet.
Steave kicked the mongrel before him again and the creature staggered, dazed. It swung wildly back at him before withdrawing from the crusader's reach. Its companion struck at Steave as well and again found only his shield. Another cultist moved to replace the one who withdrew, taking a slash from Galin as it arrived. It retaliated at once, but the warpriest easily ducked its clumsy attack and the next that followed as the final cultist pressed in, stepping over Theran to do so.
Galin pressed his own attack, but the barricades brought him up short of landing a wounding blow.
Up above, Saito remained on guard.
Yridhrennor reloaded his crossbow once more, and took careful aim. "I've been lucky so far, Falfaeren. Let's hope the gods still smile on me." He breathes in and out, calming himself. His friends are counting on him. "This is just like that time in the Seven Trials of Kendrik Tha'ndar! I can't believe it! I'm in one of my own stories!" His bolt dropped the wounded mongrel who fled to the rear.
Now healed, Abelard joined the fray. With a mighty swing of his blade, he cut one cultist nearly in half.
Steave kicks the mongrelman facing him in the solar plexus pushing all of the air from his lungs.
Theran continued to bleed as Steave's well-aimed kick almost drove a mongrel cultist nearly senseless with pain.
The mongrel struck back but once against Steave caught the blow on his shield. The kicked cultist stepped back and spared a moment to rub the tender spot. The other still standing withdrew as well, falling back and turning to open the door at the far end of the cavern.
Through the open door, the crusaders can see a dimly lit room with a large block of black stone in the center, wooden chairs around it.
Galin pressed the attack on the mongrel that Steave kicked, slashing across its chest. The deformed creature, overcome as much by pain as real damage, collapsed.
Steave hustles next to Theran and flying kicks the last mongrelman.
Yridhrennor wills the scale to bring him to the ground. Once on the ground, he upends a cure potion into Theran's mouth. Hang on, Theran! This will work! I know it! You can't die, yet! You have so much more stories to give us!
Yridhrennor descended to the ground, uncorked a potion, and rushed forward to pour it into Theran's mouth. It displaced a fair amount of blood, but almost at once the barbarian's eyes opened again.
Theran coughs and sputters a bit. His eyes semi-focus on the shape above him, but he's not yet all the way back "Bird-elf... Yerdhenner... Thank you." he picks up his hammer and his voice changes, "Oh, great lady of the sky, help this poor fool."
Abelard moves to engage the next enemy. His falchion moves swiftly, elegantly - but also lethally - through the air.
Theran continued to bleed as Steave's well-aimed kick almost drove a mongrel cultist nearly senseless with pain.
The mongrel struck back but once against Steave caught the blow on his shield. The kicked cultist stepped back and spared a moment to rub the tender spot. The other still standing withdrew as well, falling back and turning to open the door at the far end of the cavern.
Through the open door, the crusaders can see a dimly lit room with a large block of black stone in the center, wooden chairs around it.
Galin pressed the attack on the mongrel that Steave kicked, slashing across its chest. The deformed creature, overcome as much by pain as real damage, collapsed.
Saito continued his guard of the party's rear.
Yridhrennor willed the scale to bring him to the ground. Once on the ground, he upended a cure potion into Theran's mouth. "Hang on, Theran! This will work! I know it! You can't die, yet! You have so much more stories to give us!"
Abelard stepped over the unconscious cultist to close with the last, now standing alone by the open door. His falchion cut a wicked slash across the mongrelman's back.
Theran coughed and sputtered under Yridhrennor's ministrations for a moment before his eyes cleared. He took his hammer back in hand and prayed. The Lady and the spirits of his clan smiled on him, further closing his wounds.
As Theran healed, Steave advanced and applied tried-and-true boot leather to the fleeing mongrel's backside. The cultist collapsed and peace, at least for the moment, came to the tunnels beneath Kenabres.
Steave moves to the doorway putting his shield up and surveying the scene. "How are we doing? Anyone see any threats?"
Yridhrennor stand s and looks about the carnage. He gives a satisfied smile, then rushes to a corner do the room and wretches. Typical!. falfaeren flaps to the ground and begins pecking over the mongrelfolk, searching for anything useful. Theyre just bodies. Most of them aren't even dead..
Yridhrennor wretches again and makes his way back to his compatriots. Well done! That was very... Exciting. Perhaps we should rest a moment to bind up these fellows for questioning and judgement?
Standing up he looks around, looking a bit upset at himself. "Damnit. I was foolish. I shouldn't have rushed in." The sound of a chime comes from behind him, making him turn and look. He sees nothing and seems disturbed by this.
"It'll be a problem getting them all out of here. They won't be able to go up the ladder bound. They attacked us, we should finish them off."
"Any updates from below?" Saito calls down the hole. "Are we headed down? The injured may struggle with that."
Steave moves to the doorway putting his shield up and surveying the scene. "How are we doing? Anyone see any threats?"
[dice=Perception]1d20+4
Steave sensed no evil from beyond the doorway. Looking through it revealed little new, save that the stone table in the center of the chamber had an impressively large bloodstain.
perhaps I should examine the room, while everyone else deals with the...our attackers?
Galin nods, I'll join you, if you don't mind, in case anyone attacks you.
Assuming no one objects, Abelard will deal a mercifully swift judgement to any of the still-living evildoers.
He pauses at the last one. "Mebbe keep one of 'em alive, for a time, ask some questions?" Anyone curious what they've got to say?"
That's an excellent idea, Abelard! Yridhrennor smiles, his face flushing as he turns to speak to Abelard. Then, he sees the corpses and the oracle's bloodied sword and he wretches once again. Thank you, Galin! Let's go in!
"I would prefer you not kill any unconscious mongrelmen. Once we deal with the leaders who follow demons, the followers will have a choice and hope of redemption. If we kill them, we make that choice for them." Steave replies to Abelard.
While the search party examines the room, Steave assesses the bodies separating alive from dead. He also collects their weapons to eventually put in front of the entrance barricade.
"How many sets of manacles did you bring?" he asks Steave. "How do you prevent them from coming at us again? Who will watch them to ensure they don't turn evil in the future?"
"Without weapons, they will think twice about attacking us again. They are not animals that need to be put down. They are misguided and misled. Only by living can they hope to turn away from evil and redeem themselves. If they are killed now, we ensure that they die on the path of evil." Steave sermonizes while continuing to collect their weapons and separating dead bodies from as yet survivors.
Abelard shrugs "A man doesn't need a weapon if he can creep up on you an' choke you in your sleep. Way I see it, we ain't makin' the choice for them - they made that themselves, when they chose to worship an evil God. But I do hear what you're sayin' and it speaks highly of you that you're makin' the effort."
"They are helpless and are of no threat to us now. If they seek to attack us again, so be it."
Once the dead bodies are separated from the currently living, Steave gets ready to lug the weapons out of the hole, when he finally remembers that there is an unopened door in the other room.
He sets down the weapons in a pile and enters the dining room with his shield ready. He goes to the door and listens.
He will walk to the corner and pick up a rock. "If he can do this, they have weapons. You are right when you say they won't attack us again, which is why your actions are so dangerous. They'll attack people who can't defend themselves next time."
He'll get out his rope and start binding them. "If they escape and harm anybody, it will be on your soul. And you owe me rope."
Three copper bowls filled with glowing coals hang from the ceiling of this long, natural cavern. The braziers fill the chamber with warmth and soft orange light. In the center of the chamber stands a block of stone that serves as a table, lined with wooden chairs. An enormous bloodstain, maybe a week old, darkens the stone's surface.
Closed doors stand at the north and south ends of the chamber.
Steave gathers up:
4 light crossbows
40 bolts
4 clubs
37gp.
He finds that three of the cultists have not expired, but remain unconscious. They could be revived for questioning, prayer, etc.
At the northern door, he hears muffled voices speaking something that sounds well-rehearsed and solemn. Perhaps a memorized prayer, if not one with the esoteric syllables of spellcasting.
Steave returns to the group and whispers, "I think they know we're here. They sound like they are preparing spells. We could wait a few minutes for the preparations to fail. Or at least check the other door, too."
Steave tosses Theran the 37 gp for his rope without comment. Then, he takes his own precautions
He moves to the southern door and listens.
Yridhrennor's trained ear discerns passages of questionable Abyssal. Pronunciations and cadence are rather short of correct, but it's something like:
I walk the Labyrinth, shadows of foes to all sides.
I walk without light or thread through halls of ivory and blood.
I walk quaking in terror not at the shadows, but at the master of all labyrinths.
Hail He who walls cannot hold.
Hail He of the Burning Brand, Master of Beasts, who alone walks the the Labyrinth without fear
He moves to the southern door and listens.
[dice=Perception]1d20+4
Steave hears nothing beyond the southern door.
Falfaeren flaps over to Abelard and the others. They're chanting a prayer to the Master of Beasts.
Yridhrennor stays by the door listening for approaching footsteps.
Abelard stands in silence for a long time, looking at the bloodstained stone table.
Finally, he speaks. His voice has none of its usual folksiness. "I lost some very good friends on a table like that. I can still remember the knife stroke that hit the artery, the grinding scream, the haemorrhage I couldn't staunch... I got three of my friends out, but one of them killed herself years later. Couldn't cope with what happened. As for me, well..." He indicates his ruined eyes.
He pauses again, and regains his composure, before looking at the others. "You wanna give 'em a chance to surrender? Go for it. But if they don't, we take 'em down. All of 'em. I ain't much in the forgivin' vein. I'm more in the 'don't let 'em do it to anyone else' vein. Best to be clear on these things."
Galin watches, gesturing for Abelard to wait, and whispers just loud enough for the big man to hear, Don't do anything rash. We need to prepare before we go in.
Steave returns to the group and whispers, "can't hear anything at the other door. Is it better to interrupt them or wait? Any of the leaders worshipping demons are probably not redeemable. They can surrender and beg for our mercy.". He finishes with steel in his voice.
Thran will kneel and pray to the moon-wolf. He will rise restored.
Thran will kneel and pray to the moon-wolf. He will rise restored.
[dice=clw]1d8+1
It sounds like they are praying. Yridhrennor gestures towards the bloodstained rock. Given... that... and what I've read in the Males Malefactotum their rituals are most likely unpleasant.
I recommend we stop them, now. It also makes the most tactical sense, like in Annals of the Shining Crusade. Sir Rogerts uth Mathor led his soldiers into a surprise assault on an outdoor ritual led by a a group of priests and necromancers dedicated to the Four Evils, thus striking a powerful blow against the Whispering Tyrant. Granted, he interrupted them when the outdoor platform had been filled with demonic and necromantic energy, so he could have been more cautious. But, Tyrant's servants had been focused on the ritual, and so Sir Rogerts' men were able to cut them down with minimal losses.