The morning passes into afternoon while Sylvalia writes, and the two unconscious characters slowly make their ways back to consciousness (though they are still seriously wounded).
The morning passes into afternoon while Sylvalia writes, and the two unconscious characters slowly make their ways back to consciousness (though they are still seriously wounded).
As the big man regains conscious, the pain of his burns obviously slow his movements, but his hands still move to the hilt of his sword - still there, that is good - and start feeling around for his shield. "The shield of Macawi, where is it?"
He slowly and painfully sits up, propping himself against a nearby wall. Seeing the wrestler, he asks, "Garrick is ok? Good." Clearly satisfied with a simple affirmative, he closes his eyes and leans his weight more fully back against the wall.
"Macawi think this not bandit room. No red flags."
Suddenly his eyes fly open and he waves to the others and signals to be quiet. He points to an ear and then toward the door and he moves to stand up.
Int:
Percep:
Sylvalia doesn't detect what's got Macawi alarmed, but his actions are quite obvious. She'll set her notes aside, stand smoothly, and wait, her attention fixed at the door.
Int
Perception
The gunslinger hears the approach as well and draws his gun, steadying himself with his back to the wall and leveling his weapon at the door.
A few moments after Macawi and Asim react to something only they can hear , the rest of you make it out as well: a pair of marching footsteps right outside the door. For a long moment, you wait, expecting the door to open and violence to erupt, but the steady pace of the two people outside does not waver, and they apparently walk right past without hesitation. A few minutes later, you hear them walk past again, in the other direction, their pace still unchanged. The sound of their boots on the steel floor dwindles into the distance and is gone.
As the footsteps retreat a second time, the tension leaves the big man's shoulders and he sags with exhaustion. He closes his eyes for a moment in concentration before looking around the room again. "Macawi failed and is sorry. Did you bring shield of Macawi when you come to new den?" He sniffs and wrinkles his nose. "Empty room smell like blood and orcs. You smell?"
Macawi, thy shield is propped against the cot there, Sylvalia will say distractedly. Her mind is working on another puzzle.
Most interesting. Wouldn't a patrol notice the signs of recent battle and investigate? We left that door wide open in our haste to secure our wounded.
She ponders a few more minutes, then begins speaking in a scholarly, but not condescending, tone.
I would surmise that it was a Redblade patrol that passed by. This is their base, it would make sense that they patrol its corridors. We can therefore assume they each possessed one of the symbiotic nodules upon their neck, that I believe lends them certain attributes of constructs.
A construct's main weakness -- other than flaws in its structural design -- is its lack of true intelligence. It requires specific instructions, which it follows exactly. However, if it encounters a situation outside its parameters, it will not respond as a living being would. It has no instinct or imagination. It does not improvise.
If indeed a Redblade patrol passed by outside, they passed by a clear sign of battle that was not there some hours ago without investigating, changing their pace or even talking about it. This is the behavior of a construct.
She looks at the others with a grave expression.
You hear a faint tapping on the door to the chamber where you are currently holed up.
"Hello? Special Attache Querel Stonegutter reporting, with regards from Mala. Someone open this malodorous door before the sentry drones come back," says a hushed voice from the other side.
Macawi slides the door open just enough to see the gnome outside, then opens it enough for the fellow to enter, closing it quietly behind him.
"Where is Mala?"
"Where is Mala?"
"Whoa," the small figure that enters the room breathes as he looks the big man over. "Mala was right.. you are a bit of a climb, aren't ya? She's back in town, givin' her report and doin' whatever else Shevala needs her to do. I imagine she'll be along at some point."
Querel is a rough-looking gnome, though the lines on his face only serve to accent the jovial gleam in his eyes. He carries typical adventuring gear, and wields a longsword with a buckler. Taking a quick survey of the room, he looks to the druid.
"These are for you," Querel says, tossing a small bundle to Warren.
It's nice to meet you, and I'm glad to hear that Mala made it back safely. Now what say we get outta here? Spark, do you got any juice left in you to patch these guys up, or what? If those robo-bandits were just pretendin to be stupid so they could go get more buddies and overwhelm us, I'd rather not be here when they get back.
Spark, do you got any juice left in you to patch these guys up, or what?
"Oh! Right! Hello! Who needs patching?" Querel asks while glancing around the room. "Looks like the big guy for sure..."
Approaching Mocawi, the gnome pulls a wand from his belt and taps the half-giant on the leg.
After seeing Macawi's wounds mend with a touch of the wand, Asim limps forward, gesturing to the wounds on his chest.
I could use a bit of help too...
The big man bows slightly to the newest team member, Macawi thanks Stonegutter. Can stick heal Macawi more?
The big man bows slightly to the newest team member, Macawi thanks Stonegutter. Can stick heal Macawi more?
"Yeah, it probably takes a bit more than that to put all your blood back, eh?"
Then, holding the wand in a fashion similar to the way Asim wields his fancy hand-cannon, Querel spins towards the gunner, taps him on the chest and says, "Bang!"
"Bang!"
"Oooh - glancing hit! One more. Bang!"
After seeing Macawi's wounds mend with a touch of the wand, Asim limps forward, gesturing to the wounds on his chest.
I could use a bit of help too...
After seeing Macawi's wounds mend with a touch of the wand, Asim limps forward, gesturing to the wounds on his chest.
I could use a bit of help too...
Ah, gotcha.
Perception
"Does anyone else need a shot?"
Quick, those sentries are returning!
Asim levels his pistol at the door and (if I'm allowed) I'll ready action to shoot whomever opens the door.
"Oh, so you're OK then. Good. Thanks for these." Sparky, who has finally managed to peruse the scrolls, pockets them and makes ready for battle.
Macawi will concentrate for a moment to regain his psionic focus and then pick up his shield.
Perception
I could use a shot, doc, if you got any magic healin bullets left.
Oblivious, Garrick waits for healing, and snaps to focus when Asim shouts.
Wha? Oh good, I need somethin to beat on.
I could use a shot, doc, if you got any magic healin bullets left.
"Ah! Of course! A cure for what ails you, comin' right up!"
Wand:
"We'll make that a double, then..."
"Now, what's all the fuss?" asks the gnome, as he uses the tail of his shirt to 'dry' the wand as though it were a recently washed ale mug.
Sylvalia will merely observe the newcomer and his administration of healing magics. She was singed in the fight with the skeletons, but should feel better within a couple of days.
In a hushed but urgent voice, she'll say, Hearken! The footsteps return!
After a long pause, she will slowly let out the breath she had been holding since she heard the footsteps.
They appear to have passed us by once more. This time, however, they do not appear to be returning. Puzzling. The footsteps also moved at a quicker pace than last time.
She will turn to the gnome and bow gracefully. Mr. Stonegutter, thy presence here is most welcome. Thou comest at an hour of great need. Doubtless Mala described to thee what we hath encountered, though given her temperament, her descriptions may have been incomplete. If thou intends to return to the Pathfinder's Lodge, please convey these notes to Shevala. I have endeavored to be as complete as I can given the time and circumstances.
"Mala spoke of a sudoriferous group of bandits calling themselves the Redblades who seem to have been infested by some sort of mechanical spider-things. Trust the humans to go pushing buttons and gettin' turned into hebitudinous semi-golems."
The tips of his ears flare red as he turns to the human members of the party, "No offense."
"Pardon my language, Lady Tesseril." He crosses the room, presumably to take the papers from the elegant hands of the elf, but instead presses the report into her palm. "Here now," the now blushing gnome says. "You'll be takin' that report to Shevala yourself. I'll see to it."
"Now.. what do we plan to do about these guards? Just wait here and pick'em off as they go by? Eventually they'll have to run out of men-things, right?"
Personally, I think we've done enough waitin around. We're all patched up. I say we look around and take the fight to them.
I do not object to a change in tactics, given the circumstances. Most of the information we have at this point is conjecture, so seizing the initiative and forcing the Redblades to respond to our actions is prudent. I have no particular insight into which direction we should travel, but I do wish to inspect the scorched room. Little of value likely survived the preternatural heat, but a more thorough investigation is still prudent.
She turns to Querel. Well then, if thou intends on accompanying us on this venture, thy presence is most welcome.
then it's settled. To the burned room. Slim, keep that cannon ready. Never know if we'll run into more of those flaming skeletons.
then it's settled. To the burned room. Slim, keep that cannon ready. Never know if we'll run into more of those flaming skeletons.
The gunslinger steps forward after quietly observing the others.
[b]If you want to search now that's fine, but let's be quick about it. If the Redblades are reinforcing the exit, the longer we tarry the harder it will be to escape. After a quick check of the room we should make straight for the exit in case we need to fight our way out.[b]
He turns to Sylvalia...
[b]Ma'am, do you have any more magic at your disposal? We will probably need your magic to disable the group at the exit, while Garrick covers our rear to engage any possible reinforcement patrols... [b]
He turns to Sylvalia...
Ma'am, do you have any more magic at your disposal? We will probably need your magic to disable the group at the exit, while Garrick covers our rear to engage any possible reinforcement patrols... [b]
Indeed I do, Asim. My remaining magic can conjure a frictionless zone identical to the slick Mala introduced during the confrontation with the skeletons, and enchant a close group of humanoids to fall into a debilitating slumber from which only a concerted effort can rouse them -- not even thy weapon's din will wake them. If we are at great need, I can also recall the potent Color Spray.
Macawi just nods, adjusting his shield to settle it into place. He moves to the door and prepares to open it with his sword hand. He looks back at the others to see if they are ready.
When he gets the word to proceed, he will pull the door open slowly and draw his sword before leaning out to look both ways. If everything is clear, he will step out into the hallway to let the others past.
When he gets the word to proceed, he will pull the door open slowly and draw his sword before leaning out to look both ways. If everything is clear, he will step out into the hallway to let the others past.
"Ah. Research time!" Querel exclaims as he draws his sword.
The hallway is empty in both directions as far as you can see.
The burnt room is just as you left it, the broken bones of the skeletons still scattered across the floor. The bloodied and slightly soot-stained falchions of the skeletons are still lying where they fell, and otherwise all is still and silent.