Karethas' face freezes at Amir's suggestion. "I'm sorry, I don't have any spell like that. Perhaps if I could summon a swarm of insects, but I don't have that ability." He looks around despondently, and finally sighs. "We should find a place and I can cast Rope Trick. I am nearly spent and wish to rest.Although we may want to find the Carrion King's quarters. Bringing Kzrira back will be expensive and anything valuable will help towards that.
Stupid phone/paizo. We need to check the main hall see what is what. Also we need to wrap up Kzrira's body. Voodoo, thoughts on putting her in my satchel or can I only put things in it that fit through the opening of a given pouch regardless off capacity?
Lol.
Amir urges at least taking a look around to gain your bearing before retiring. Beyond the labyrinth is a great room with just a few sputtering torches to break the gloom. The stench of death fills this hot chamber, but you've already inured yourself to it as best you can. At least no more gnolls lie in wait.
A wide staircase circumscribes the east side of the room leading up. The northern wall is a series of arches mounted on columns that divide this room from an equally large chamber beyond. From what you can see of the walls, they are stamped in a repeating pattern of paw prints, skulls and crude symbols in what appears to be blood, clay and dung.
The stench grows even stronger if that can be believed as you move north to the arches that divide the room. Most of this room is taken up with a great basin filled with broken, rotten carcasses crawling with larvae and vermin. The pit is skirted by a ten foot wide walkway that hugs the walls and leads to the back section of the room.
The back wall is shaped as a ribbed framework of jointed legs curving forward to a horrible sculpted head that projects over the pit. The great mouth of the demonic face gapes wide to hold a throne. A twenty foot wide column holds the massive sculpture aloft.
So utterly disgusted by main room Amir can barely focus. Do we risk staying here in the space or do we head up the stairs? Do you think the gnolls would try to come back?
"I say we try to go up the stairs. I think many of the gnolls will be disrupted by the King's fall until someone else can take a strong hand with them. The witch may still be around though."
The rogue tiredly nods at the wizard, A good idea, and I would rather not emerge to... The rogue waves his hand at the smell, the decay, etc.
As the party turns toward the stairs to the upper levels of the House of the Beast, a stooped man enters the hall from the labyrinth. You recognize him by the long-haired white cat that haunts his heels. With a broken smile, the alchemist bows. "I seem to have underestimated your prowess, Sadah. You have slain the Carrion King. I was once his humble servant, let me now serve you. Though I am crude of form, do not misjudge my mind."
I hold Kzrira's bow in hand, just until Amir and Karethas can find a way to stitch her body back together and insert her soul back into it.
Looking at the man I smile, "We are not in need for servants or slaves, but friends we can always make do with."
You feel, or perhaps sense, the bow speaking to you.
Ware the alchemist. One who served the king and twists bodies has no good at heart.
After a few moments of silence I visibly shudder and look around for something, I then turn my attention back to the man, "How long did you serve under the King and how would you serve us exactly?"
"How long did you serve under the King and how would you serve us exactly?"
"I have been here for almost a year and in that time I have come to know the House and the gnolls here quite well. That perhaps will prove of some value. For example, I could not help but overhear that you were thinking of making your way upstairs. I would advise against that."
"Above us is where the Carrion Crown gnolls reside. They may not yet have received word of their leader's fall and would likely overwhelm you with their numbers. They will not come down here because they fear the little god of the pit. In a few days however, with the Carrion King gone, they will fall upon each other. Likely, Rokova and Shizak will vie for the chieftainship and their supporters will battle. It will be much easier to slip away with the gnolls so engaged. In the meanwhile, I think I know where the true wealth of the House lies. Your archer was certainly interested. Where is she?"
Where my companion is, is of no concern to you. I would be curious to know about an exit as I wonder if those things that let us enter would be so keen to let us leave...that said... We were here to challenge the king. Now dead, the chaos will serve us. You speak of wealth. Lead us to it.
Amir waves with Simin, indicating that he will follow, but with a blade clearly pulled.
The bent man bows further and rising smiles beneath his prominent nose. He beckons you back to the northern chamber with the pit of corpses. "I have had much time to read the history of this place during my residency in the Halls of Contemplation. Jhavhul, the high priest of this place, was said to have his personal quarters in the depths of Pale Mountain. We must go deeper. Though Jhavhul worshipped the destroyer, I think he hid the treasure of a thousand wishes away for his own enjoyment."
The strange man's voice falls as he enters the room of the Carrion Throne. Now he whispers as he points to the throne shaped like the jaws of Rovagug. "There. I think the passage to Jhavhul's Oubliette lies through the throne. Be quiet though. The little god waits beneath the rotting corpses."
You hear a voice in your head.
The priest was not. He was fire genie. He sought divinity.
I seem to be deep in thought, then look at the alchemist, "I have heard that Jhavhul was actually an Efreet; a Fire Genie, and that he actually sought divinity. Why are you telling us something different, are you planning on deceiving us like Undra did?"
The alchemist motions the naive bard to keep his voice down and then shrugs. He responds in a whisper, "The walls didn't say anything about that, but that would explain the source of all the genie wishes."
He leads the way around the grotesque pit to the isthmus that leads to the great maw-like throne. Still whispering with a ill-aligned eye on the pit, the man says. "I am certain there is a secret passage beneath this throne. Help me look."
A thought strikes me and I look to the man before helping, "Would you happen to have a written record of what you have translated from the walls and learned here? I would be willing to buy such a tome from you."
Karethas tilts his head as Faelar mentions the Pairaka. As the group approaches the throne he quickly casts Prestidigitation. He reaches into his robes and pulls out a red handkerchief that he uses to wipe his forehead, muttering about the heat. As he bends down to study the throne he casually hands the handkerchief to the alchemist, "Hold this for a moment please?" as he studies the throne.
Karethas pulls a crimson kerchief from his robe which waves in the air like a dancing flame. The alchemist looks at the wizard like he's crazy, but takes the dancing cloth without comment. The beautiful long haired white cat lurking behind however hisses and hunches its back.
The hiss turns into a howl as the creature grows and darkens to become a tall female form cloaked in black. "The Witch!" the alchemist yells in surprise.
Amir
Karethas
Faelar
Kzrira
foe
alchemist
Amir frowns at the exclamation but is slow to react...
Bow already in hand I look to Undra, "So you have come before us again, normally I would parley with you to settle this ... but I am not in the mood to be betrayed again." With that I sing a battle song, an ancient song in the language of Ancient Osiriani. The words and notes bounce off of the walls until the room is filled with what sounds like a group of singers singing an angry tune.
I then move away from Undra, holding the bow up and ready to loose.
Karethas uses Prestidigitation to turn the alchemist's shirt red, "I hope you have a potion you can use to make you more formidable." He takes a step back and starts digging in his pouch.
"Here-," the alchemist grabs one of the fangs on the throne in panic. He looks at Karethas questioningly as the color from the red silk hanky flows into his own shirt. He is only confused for a moment before the tall black veiled div flies forward smacking the red shirted henchman off the balcony and into the pit of corpses. The projection he was holding flips down and the seat of the throne fslides away to reveal a narrow spiral stairway leading down.
Undra stops to hover above the pit about fifteen feet away. Below her the alchemist screams and struggles to crawl through the rotting corpses back to safety. Faelar begins his battle song...
Sensing the vile presence of the div, the Tempest Bow practically aims itself in Faelar's hands. Or perhaps the bow is in fact controlling the bard's hands. He is unsure which.
Attack-rapid shot: <-- +2 Inspire Courage, -2 Rapid Shot
Damage: <-- +2 Inspire Courage
Attack-rapid shot:
Damage:
Attack:
Damage:
Clearly the bow's control of the bards hands and arms is not perfect as none of the shots are very accurate.
Amir curses the circumstances and spends the next few seconds pulling his own bow and sheathing his swords.
Sickened
31 HP
The div's supernaturally tough skin repels the series of arrows that fly at her. Undra just laughs as Faelar begins singing. "I hear that elf blood does wonders to soften the skin. I look forward to bathing in it." Amir frantically readies his bow.
Seeing arrows merely bounce from the div Amir yells, Karethas, we need to leave. Delay her or disrupt her but get down that hall dammit, we are in no condition to do this!
The strange voice once more speaks from the bow.
Cold iron arrows in quiver.
"I do not have many choices, but follow me. Karethas heads quickly down the stairs but pauses after 20 or so feet. He uses a Pearl to recall Silent Image.
Karethas retreats down the narrow stairway as he grabs his magical pearl to reclaim a spell. The air in the tunnel is noticeably warmer, but thankfully free of the stink of putrefying flesh.
Undra rushes forward and slashes eagerly at the elf. A voice in his ear startles Faelar however and he jerks aside so that the black nailed claws miss him. The alchemist continues crawling over the rotting limbs and corpses in the pit gasping and gagging. Behind him something REALLY big rises through the carnage.
The other arrows, Faelar, remember what she is!
Seeing something rising from the carnage the rogue swears to himself.
Hearing this weird voice again I fumble around in the quiver to try and pull out one of the arrows tipped with Cold Iron, I stop singing, step back and try to shoot her.
Amir swears at the turn of events and moves to get closer to the alchemist, C'mon! To me! Amir stows his bow, remembering his completely worthless efforts the last time, and focuses on getting the other man out of the pit.
Karethas raises his arms, casts a spell, and suddenly the steps, the walls, even the ceiling of the stairs seems to be painted in a color remenicient of fresh blood. "Come on! I've done the best I can." He retrieves the last pearl from his pouch and holds it just in case.
Attack-rapid shot: <-- -2 rapid shot, +2 Inspire courage, -2 sickened
Damage: <-- +2 IC, -2 sickened
Attack-rapid shot: <-- -2 rapid shot, +2 Inspire courage, -2 sickened
Damage: <-- +2 IC, -2 sickened
Attack-rapid shot: <-- -2 rapid shot, +2 Inspire courage, -2 sickened
Damage: <-- +2 IC, -2 sickened
Faelar scrambles for the cold iron arrows and fires a near miss when the bow seems to take over and hits the div wounding her. Undra shrieks with rage. Her fury grows even greater as the offensive red color bleeds up from the hidden stairwell and over the throne. Amir kneels at the edge of the pit reaching for the straining and panicked alchemist. Undra ignores the vulnerable position of the rogue and tears into the elf with vile claws.
The alchemist is almost within reach when the horrible "little god" of the pit erupts in a spray of rotting gore and chunks of decayed flesh. The creature is huge and appears something like a scorpion except for the tentacles that erupt from where each of its claws would normally be. It flails madly giving a rasping hiss as it pounds corpses into mash.
Miraculously, the monstrous tentacles appear to miss the gut drenched alchemist and his fingers brush Amir's just as one tentacle manages to wrap around his leg in a crushing embrace. In the next instant, a stinger like a falchion drives into the hapless alchemist's back. He lives to grab Amir's hand, but already his grasp weakens as the virulent poison works its way into his body.
With only partial ability to control them, Faelar's arms continue to draw cold iron arrows from Kzrira's magic quiver and fire them from the cold radiating bow at the div the now deceased archer so despised.
That hag will feel the pain of cold.
Attack-rapid shot-cold iron:
Damage:
Attack-rapid shot-cold iron:
Damage:
Attack-rapid shot-cold iron:
Damage:
Despite being ill, the bard's magically controlled arms continue to fire the bow with fair precision.