The bony fishes swarm over the Alchemist yet again, their teeth nipping at his flesh, their flashing bodies swirling in front of his eyes, threatening to make him sick.
Auto + Distraction (DC:11)
The Fisherman leaps past the dropped torch, charging the Bard. It sinks the rusty gaff deep in Jak's shoulder.
The long-skulled skeletal beast towers over Lyrica and rakes her across the face and neck with two sets of dirt-crusted claws.
The intense pain causes her to focus, observing the minutia of her opponent. Her scimitar penetrates the monster's rib-cage and, with a deft twist, she snaps off a rib that splinters and falls to the loamy earth. But her blow, for all its strength, delivers less of a killing wound than she expected.
ORDER:
MAP: Alone in the Dark
14|14
3|10
7|10
5|15
14|14
Nauseated creatures are unable to attack, cast spells, concentrate on spells, or do anything else requiring attention. The only action such a character can take is a single move action per turn.
The cut draws a hiss from Jak, and he reflexively steps back. Pulling from his mother's legacy, Jak mutters a few unintelligible words, pointing at the ground between himself and the old fisherman. Slick, spongy fungi grows instantly between them. He pulls the dagger from his wrist sheathe as he waits to see if the old fisherman stays on his feet.
Round 2
Running out of room to retreat, Ezekiel faces the swarm head on. Pulling just outside their reach, he pulls out two more chemicals. "Let's see you avoid that again!" He throws the one vial as he undoes the lid on the other, watching as the first liquid shatters on the fish, he sprays out the contents of the other and watches as they ignite.
HP: 3/10
1st Level Infusions 1+1/day: xx
Bombs 5/day: xxx
Mutagen (Strength): x
Marcus sees Eluon's success and follows suit, striking at the skull's jaw-joint.
Aerik swings the flaming brand at the stumpy Black Root but his foot slips on the loose shale and sends his blow awry...
Jak steps away from the possessed remains of Old Sloane and weaves his spell - a fine layer of grease oozes up from the land between the two opponents. The skeleton slips on the slick surface but its clawed toes dig into the earth, righting the unholy creature.
Again, Ezekiel shrugs off the stomach-churning vertigo caused by the fish swimming around his head. He back-steps from the swarm and slings compounds in a fanning arc across the sky... The air catches fire and burns with a hideous green light. The fish swim frantically in the fire until their bones blacken and rain down in a light ash - destroyed.
Caught by surprise by Eluon previously, the bloated Skull-thing is prepared for Marcus' mirroring attack. It floats upwards avoiding his blow.
ORDER:
Black Root tries to tear into the Druid's leg with its gnashing stone-chip fangs. It only catches a mouthful of flaming brand instead.
As the strange Skull climbs to avoid the Ranger's blow, Eluon strikes again - knocking teeth from the damaged jaw.
The Skull exacts its price from Eluon for his two well-placed blows... It turns its sharp-boned cranial plate on the lumberjack in a shattering headbutt. There is a sickly crunch as Eluon's nose and facial bones give way. Eluon staggers backwards, barely managing to stay on his feet, his face a bloody ruin.
The skull turns its flaming eyes on the Ranger, a head-sized bloody smear decorates the space between its vacant eye-sockets. The message is unspoken but clear:
You're next.
ORDER:
MAP: Alone in the Dark
14|14
3|10
7|10
5|15
14|14
Old Sloane stalks straight towards Jak across the greased ground. The skeleton's claws slide off a slick stone, sending the creature sprawling. A moment later, undeterred, it rises again seeking to gaff the life from the Bard.
Meanwhile, miles up valley, Lyrica is locked in a deadly struggle with the long-muzzled skeletal beast. She ducks below one set of razor claws and blocks another with her scimitar - raising sparks in the dark forest.
ORDER:
Marcus runs forward while the skull is preoccupied, flanking the creature before bringing the axe downward in a vicious arc.
Round 3
Lyrica realizing that she is in the battle for her life, calls upon the Dawnflower to give aid in her need.
Dear Sarenrae, I have met a foe beyond the redemption of your grace! Let your fire burn through me this moment as I call on you to smite down this evil fiend!
As a swift action, Lyrica uses Smite Evil.
Infused with the glory of Sarenrae, Lyrica spins in a dramatic rapid spiral that strikes hard at the Skeletor with her father's blade.
=> 13 for Critical Threat
Jak whips the suddenly-enhanced dagger at the old man, "Don't get up on my behalg," he mutters as his second dagger quickly finds its way into his hand from his boot-sheathe.
Round 3
Lyrica realizing that she is in the battle for her life, calls upon the Dawnflower to give aid in her need.
Dear Sarenrae, I have met a foe beyond the redemption of your grace! Let your fire burn through me this moment as I call on you to smite down this evil fiend!
As a swift action, Lyrica uses Smite Evil.
Infused with the glory of Sarenrae, Lyrica spins in a dramatic rapid spiral that strikes hard at the Skeletor with her father's blade.
[dice=Scimitar]1d20+9
[dice=Damage]1d6+4 => 10 for Critical Threat[dice=Confirm Critical]1d20+9
[dice=Damage]1d6+4
Marcus races by the floating Skull and deftly dodges its snapping jaws. He delivers a ringing axe blow to the back of it - sending bone splinters flying. A crack forms and winds its way like lightning up and over the crown of the skull. The monster spins slowly, regarding the Ranger with malice.
Marcus summons up the strength for a second attack and drives the massive lumber blade into the hairline fissure that creeps across the frontal plate. It is a wood-splitting blow that works equally well on massive undead skulls. The skull shivers and explodes, hurling bone-shards across the hillside and burying large chunks in the nearby trees.
Lyrica's blow is mighty and slashes deeply into the ribs of the fiend, shearing down to the spine. But her training tells her it is not a finishing blow for a creature this foul.
Great, however, is the power and glory of Sarenrae... even as Lyrica pulls the blade free, fire courses from within her arm, up the blade, and dances across the bones of the fiend. Vertebrae split and crack like kindling. The skull caves in like a house afire. White flames race across the entire skeleton, consuming it in an instant. Nothing, not even ash, is left to mark the creature's passing.
Even as the dagger leaves his hand, Jak realises that a blade may be of little use against a skeleton. Still, his throw is true and he buries the blade in Old Sloane's remaining eye-socket. Blue arcane energy, like lightning, courses through the creature's skull as it pulls the dagger from its face. Then the magical energy does its work - unknitting the necromantically bound joints of the monster. Old Sloane comes apart, falling into a haphazard pile of bones on the greasy field.
Or at least, they appeared haphazard initially. Jak sees that the largest bones seem to spell out a word or perhaps a name... before they begin to slide across the slick field and become unintelligible as they merge with the rest of the bone pile.
He cocks his head to read the word quickly before it vanishes... Angarak.
ORDER:
Jak considers the word as he retrieves his blade and torch . As he sheathes both blades, he racks his brain for any reference to Angarak. A name? Place? Creature?
Giving the dark stream one more wary look, Jak decides it's more than past time to get back to the Drear, moving as quietly as he can. As he stalks away from the sight of the struggle, he gives one last look over his shoulder towards the now-gone bones, "Sorry, old man, but you're not exactly the Ruske I was hoping to tangle with tonight."
The large moon casts a bloody light on all it surveys...
After the skeletor erupts in flames and becomes consumed, Lyrica falls down on her knees in exhaustion. After a moment of deep breathing, with her heart racing, she clasps her hands together in prayer and looks skyward.
"Blessed, Dawnflower. You abide in me day and night! I thank you for this moment and for guiding me to life in my first battle. You allowed your flame to shine brightly in me and through me and through your grace, the creature of death was vanquished. I thank you! Please give me the strength and courage to face whatever evil may come to this land, and guide me to serve you and others who are in need of your grace. Amen!"
Lyrica stands up, sheathes her scimitar, and moves over to pick up her shield.
She takes a deep breath and then rushes back to her house to see if her family is safe.
Jak wracks his brain for any knowledge of an Angarak but comes up blank. He consoles himself with the fact there are others in town who may recognize the name.
Aerik curses loudly as the hell tree lazily bats aside another swing of his makeshift torch.
The Black Root lashes a knotty root at Aerik - attempting to break his knee. The Druid pulls his leg free in time to avoid the worst of the blow.
Marcus races by the floating Skull and deftly dodges its snapping jaws. He delivers a ringing axe blow to the back of it - sending bone splinters flying. A crack forms and winds its way like lightning up and over the crown of the skull. The monster spins slowly, regarding the Ranger with malice.
Marcus summons up the strength for a second attack and drives the massive lumber blade into the hairline fissure that creeps across the frontal plate. It is a wood-splitting blow that works equally well on massive undead skulls. The skull shivers and explodes, hurling bone-shards across the hillside and burying large chunks in the nearby trees.
[dice=HIT]1d20+4
[dice=DAM]1d8+3
Marcus stows his weapons and shield and picks up the lantern before running over to Eluon.
Are you alright? C'mon, we've gotta get out of here. He holds the lantern in one hand while putting his other arm around Eluon to help him walk.
As they walk back to town, he'll speak up again, keeping his voice hushed in case anything else is lurking about: This seems like a dream, and a bad one at that. What the hell is going on here, anyway? Do you think anyone back in town could have an explanation for all this, and I don't mean just 'the gods-damned world is ending' or some such nonsense?
He smiles then, to take the edge off, and says: Say, I know you're thick-headed, but what gave you the bright idea of headbutting a giant skull, huh?
Lyrica rushes back towards Dies Drear, passing in the wake of the Black Mist. Dead animals, crumpled and destroyed, litter her path. Few things escape the touch of the nightmare blight - birds, fish, foxes, even bugs fall to it. Worms crawl from the earth to thrash and die on the forest's floor. Even some trees appear twisted and deformed by the passing fog. Their trunks cant at odd angles now. Their branches stretch down towards the ground like thin-armed beggars. Erupting from them are grey thorns that catch at the hair and clothing of the passing Paladin.
Jak stalks carefully back towards the Drear from down valley. He climbs cautiously through the culvert choked thick with dead wildlife and pinned under the remorseless lens of bloody moonlight. The smell of despair wafts through the thin air - bitter and cold. Every footfall seems to echo loudly and then die suddenly as if its presence intrudes on a silence that prefers to remain unbroken. Jak's journey up the narrow gorge is like a walk through a vast empty hallway - a long-sealed crypt.
Marcus has to half-walk and half-carry Eluon down the mountain. To his credit, the lumberjack tries to stagger along as fast as possible.
Through the bloody and bruised ruin of his face, Eluon words are full of shock. "I can't believe anyone would know about this, Marcus. This is beyond any old wives' tale I ever heard - and I heard'em all."
Both men note the subtle and gross signs of corruption: twisted trees sprouting thorns, dead wild-life, even the wind seems to have shifted from its normal howl to a funerary lament. Neither comments on it, very real worries about their homes and families coming to the fore.
As they stumble down the mountain, they notice a thin flicker of light off to the right some distance away, just past the tree-line's edge. It might be a torch but it is impossible to tell from this distance in this alien, crimson-stained, landscape. The direct path to Dies Drear is down the mountain. Checking on the eldritch light would make the journey longer.
With her heart racing and her legs running so fast, Lyrica hardly takes time to notice the changes in her beloved homeland. Tears are streaming down her face as she glances at animals lying dead on the forest floor.
My God, what has happened here?! Please let Papa be safe! Let Mama and Allegra, and Melodica all be safe! Dear Sarenrae protect them! Please don't let the darkness devour them like it has all the life in this area! My God, please keep them safe! Keep them safe!
"Ughhh!" she screeches as her hair gets caught in a looming branch! Why are these trees so thorny? I've never remembered them being this sharp! What is happening to my world?!"
Untangling herself, and ignoring her own wounds, the young girl speeds onward to find her family.
When she is too tired to run, she will hustle onward to the family farm.
Jak continues on through the darkness. It's not lost on him that the black mist -- the mist that made a ten-year-dead fisherman rise from the water and killed what appears to be all the small animals in the area and warping the trees -- was making its way to Dies Drear. His pace quickens, but he keeps himself from flat-out running. Won't help anyone if you blunder into another departed village-folk who guts you on their sewing needles.
Aerik whiffs again, thinking longingly back to the time when a pack of hyenas decended upon him, and he was able to pierce their fleshy hides with his spear. :(
Aerik leaps over the whipping roots that try to snare him but can't deflect the stone fangs that bury themselves in his calf. The Black Root chuckles and drinks the Druid's blood greedily.
7|14
3|10
7|10
5|15
14|14
: The DM pulls out a miniature of Urgathoa and debates placing it on the map in front of the Bard character... :
Reeling from his foes powerful attack, Aerik rethinks his battle plan.
I'm of no use to anyone if I'm dead.
He says a quick prayer to the gods of the forest, and disengages, moving through the rough terrain as though it was a field of soft grass.
Just a little more. And I should be able to lose this creature.
What is your overall goal? Get a serious distance between yourself and the Black Root before heading to town? Keep heading West? Something else?
The Druid sprints off across the broken terrain skipping lightly over the crumbling stone and undeterred by the gusting winds. The Black Root attempts to give chase but cannot keep pace. The sliding scree slows it and departing even further from the safety of the woods seems to unsettle it. As Aerik reaches the trees on the far side the Black Root, not nearly halfway across the scree, retreats back towards the trees from which it emerged. The air is filled with its black curses and promises of retribution in a bastardized form of Sylvan.
Aerik enters the tree-line and makes sure his movements can't be seen before he shifts course abruptly and moves with haste back towards Dies Drear.
Ezekiel sits for a moment, looking about for any other immediate dangers. Not seeing any, he reaches into his bag and removes several mixtures. Taking a moment to carefully mix them, he creates a healing draught, though he has only managed to define one for himself at present. Drinking the draught, he stands shakily on his staff and begins heading back to town, torch in hand. "I can only hope everything is all right."