Snorri continues to pursue the bat-thing dragging Firetalon. He swings the axe
Erebos studies the wall where Dasur disappeared, then reaches out to unravel the magic fueling Dasur's spell.
Dasur finds himself ejected from his safe space.
Iverna moves toward the melee.
The bat-thing lifts Firetalon's body from the stone floor, its wings flap, but the dwarf is too heavy for it to take flight. Still, it is able to move with the weight.
The other bat-thing takes flight, flapping its powerful wings. Dirt and dust are thrown into the air, creating a cloud of dust that limits even your darkvision.
Round 5
Torvi is always willing to take a good AOO...
Bludgeon
On her own turn, Torvi will double move (she now threatens the bat hauling Firetalon), and she will use a swift action to extend the path of glory.
Round 5
Dasur feels the door start to move in the wrong direction- indeed, he had designed the spell so that the door only swung inward unless the dimensional collapse failsafe mechanism had been activated. It was quite exciting, as the door pull him along its path and flung him out into the room, to see his spell work flawlessly as the anchors that held it to this plane were stripped away.
He spares a glance into the shrinking depths of the extradimensional space, desperately wanting to observe the unraveling of the spell, before he shakes his head and re-focuses.
With a leap the wizard umps at the nearby wall, sticking to it like wet dough. He rapidly ascends and perches at the joint between wall and ceiling, twisting his body to look down at the dark elf from above.
"I am sorry, Erebos." Dasur says with more emotion than usual, a small frown on his thin lips. "Our host says you must be destroyed. Worry not, I will find a way to purge the corruption you unwittingly gave our other companions. I do not believe it was not your fault."
With a flick of his wrist, the elevated dwarf spreads thousands of pieces of mica throughout the room. "Goodbye, my friend." Are his parting words as he finishes the spell incantation with an eleaborate gesture, and Erebos' mind explodes with colors.
Seeing the bat beast attempting to carry off Firetalon, the dwarf clenches his jaw in anger and charges straight for it, raising his axe up high and bringing it down hard toward the creature as he nears it, hoping to connect cleanly and free their diminutive ally from its clutches.
Raging song: +2 STR/CON, +1 Will Save, -1 AC, Cannot use CHA, DEX, or INT based skills except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride), or any ability that requires patience or concentration.
Celestial Totem, Lesser (Su) Cure spells heal CL extra Hp, non spell magical healing does class level extra.
Snorri's axe sinks deep into the bat-thing and it drops to the ground. Its black eyes roll back into its head. Firetalon lies in a bleeding heap at Snorri's feet.
Erebos is covered with glowing motes, but keeps it from his eyes.
Erebos runs into the swirling glow-motes and cloud of dust toward Torvi. "Hold still, enemy mine. If you would battle these flying demons, you need to be on equal footing, as it were. This will allow you to pursue them into the air."
If Torvi will allow it, Erebos will place his hand on her shoulder, muttering incantations. The gem in the hilt of his rapier flashes violet, and Torvi suddenly feels light on her feet.
Iverna moves through the swirling dust, taking advantage of the chance to get close to the foe.
The hovering bat-thing sees its fellow drop and decides to take its leave. It flaps its wings powerfully and swoops over your heads out into the cavern beyond.
The dust settles, and for the moment, the sounds of battle echo, gradually diminishing.
Round 6
Torvi extends her spell again, to include the square Firetalon is in. She will also keep her song up for another round or two to aid in the healing.
"Everyone get on a glowing spot if you are injured!"
Round 6
Dasur is unsuprised Erebos shakes off the spell- the dark elf was closer to magic by birth than Dasur ever could be, but it did make the task of killing him much harder. The wizard places his hands on the ceiling and begins to crawl on all fours, head tilted backward at an awkward angle that made everything up-side down to him. The braid of his hair and beard flop and writhe with his every unnatural movement.
He makes good pace for a spider-dwarf, moving along the ceiling from one room into the next, still twenty feet off the ground. "I am afraid Torvi's suspicions and instincts were correct all along. Our host tells me that Erebos carries a corruption that has spread to all of you, and your touch spreads it further. I remain unsullied, and I must remain out of your reach for the moment. Sadly, if I am to diagnose the nature of this corruption and find a suitable counter-magic, Erebos must die. I do not believe it is his fault he carries this corruption, or he is aware of it, but there is no other way." Dasur drones in his usual monotone as he stops briefly above Iverna to move his beard out of his face.
Round 6
Hearing and making a mental note of his cousin's ravings, the dwarf currently attends to a more urgent matter of the fallen Gren. Kneeling down next to her, "Not today, Firetalon. Today is not your day to die, young one." The dwarf then kneels down and places a healing hand upon the young dwarf, adding to Torvi's healing magic.
Firetalon's eyes flutter open as her wounds close. She snarls an undwarven sound and sits up.
Erebos swats ineffectually at Torvi, unwilling to get rough.
"Fair enough, if we die by your stubbornness, so be it."
Glenda tries something unorthodox and casts dispel magic at Dasur.
Glenda reaches out with her will, unravelling the magical energies surrounding Dasur. The wizard suddenly finds that the forces bonding his limbs to the ceiling weaken and then vanish. Dasur plummets 20 feet to the stone floor.
Erebos holds his hands in a non-threatening posture, attempting to make clear to Torvi that there are no hostilities between them. "Friend dwarves, this place clearly hosts powers we do not understand. Let us recover our injured and mentally compromised and withdraw to a safer place. I know that it will sting you pride to retreat, but pride is no reason to die. Better to live to fight on our own terms."
The dust settles, but you might not see Iverna.
Snorri takes Firetalon's hand and helps her stand. Reaching in his pack, he pulls out two vials. "Take these, Firetalon. They will help," he explains, handing both vials to her. He then turns his attention to the drow as he speaks. Pondering the drow's logic, "Very well, Erebos. That is sound thinking. Let us rest and recover if able. But first we must tend to our current issue." He then heads back down the hall to where Dasur is.
Seeing Dasur rise from the ground, "Cousin?" he asks before turning his attention to their resident healer. "Glenda? Is he still acting... odd?"
Torvi shakes her head, "when is he not acting odd? Chattering on about rock stratums, or energy fields, or whatever idiocy moves him at the moment?"
Dasur can feel his fingers start to peel off of the ceiling as the magical energies begin to dissipate, and there was not enough time to react, let alone cast another spell. He does have a brief moment to appreciate just how quickly gravity takes over- could it be that the force is always there, unceasing, and their phsyical form is under its effects from the moment they are born? But what of the soul? How does gravity effect the metaphysical?
There were many more thoughts going through his head, at least until he hits the ground like a sack of potatoes and lands with a painful thump and a yell. Thoughts jarred loose, the wizard struggles back to his feet, feeling bruised and battered. "Snorri, we must kill Erebos before it is too late. Only then can I begin to understand the corruption he has carried."
Lifting his hand, Dasur beings to cast another spell, targeting Erebos' sword. Microportals to the lesser-known elemental plane of butter open all over the rapier, coating it in a line layer of hot, salty, delicious, and slippery fat. "I shall disarm him, strike now!"
He seems compeltely sincere and convinced of his actions- there is no doubt or cloudiness in his eyes.
Torvi looks to Snorri for direction, anxious to eliminate the dark elf from the group if called upon to do so.
Glenda withdraws to Snorri's position. "My lord, I have no spell that will undo the compulsion that has overtaken his mind. We must find some way to subdue him so that we can investigate and perhaps find what has happened and some way to undo it."
Erebos' rapier shoots from his grip.
Narrowing his eyes at Dasur as he takes in the wizard's accusations, the paladin looks over at Torvi and shakes his head while using a free hand to motion her to stand down for now.
Glenda withdraws to Snorri's position. "My lord, I have no spell that will undo the compulsion that has overtaken his mind. We must find some way to subdue him so that we can investigate and perhaps find what has happened and some way to undo it."
He then turns to Glenda as she speaks and ponders her words. The dwarf lets out a resigned sigh, "Very well," and nods in agreement. He then turns his attention to their uncontrollable ally. "Forgive me, cousin, but I fear we have little choice," the warrior dwarf mutters under his breath as he moves near his cousin while reaffirming his grip upon his greataxe. "How do you know it is Erebos, Cousin? How do you know it is not I who carries said corruption? What compels you to so quickly accuse Erebos?" he asks, moving ever so closer.
Dasur pauses in a manner similar to someone applying the brakes on a cart- sudden, lurching, and unnatural, his aggresiveness seems to grind to a halt as he relaxes. "It is simple logic." The wizard answers, shifting his staff from one hand to the other and looking at the nearby bowl of blood before the demon-shrine. "Our host informed me you all carry a corruption and I am the only one untainted. Your touch spreads it, and I ask you refrain from coming in contact with me. They also informed me that Erebos is their enemy, and should be killed. One can draw a line from the corruption to Erebos. Why else would our host want him dead, if not to help us?" All this time Dasur seems unaware of Snorri is inches away with his great axe ready to strike.
"But perhaps I was too hasty. This matter may be more complex than I initially surmised, and the time constraints more lax. We should all find a safe place and get some rest. It will become much clearer, then." As if nothing had happened in the past several minutes, Dasur begins to walk away- out of the rough tunnels and back towards the upper levels of the mine. "My spells to prepare us an extradimensional hideaway have been exhausted. Shall we make camp near the space dedicated to Magrim, as we did before? Otherwise, it will take me some time to reprepare the spell."
"Very well," the paladin responds plainly. Just as Dasur turns to walk away, Snorri hesitates for just a moment as the guilt for what he's about to do overwhelms him but he knows he must do what he has to since they've no other options. He then quickly brings his axe up and swings it down toward his cousin.
Torvi stands there dumbstruck, "what the?"
Dasur doesn't even see it coming.
The true mithral axe blade lands squarely on the back of his head- it was a mighty blow, and without Torag's mercy, the wizard's head would have surely been split open like an overcooked mushroom.
Instead, his body goes limp as the axe makes contact, collapsing forward like a puppet whose strings had been cut. As he crumbles to the floor with a soft thump his obsidian staff slips out of his fingers, bounces against the stone with a few piercing clinks, and rolls to a stop against a nearby wall.
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"Someone remember to pick up his staff," says Glenda as she kneels down to check Dasur and make sure that he didn't suffer any lasting injury. The last thing that the eccentric wizard needed was more brain damage.
"He's still breathing regularly. A perfect shot. But I don't know how long he'll be out. We may have to bind and gag him."
"Take his spell components as well," suggests Torvi, having started to grasp what had just occurred.
Erebos moves to retrieve his dropped rapier. He carefully plucks it from the floor, not squeezing too hard, and drops it into its sheath.
Breathing a sigh of relief at Glenda's diagnosis, "Good. Thank Torag. Only by Torag's divine gift was I able to attack him in such a way." He raises his axe in one hand and runs the forefinger of his other hand straight down the edge of it. He then shows the results to the others. Where there should be a clean and quite a bloody cut there is nothing. "The damage done is not lethal, yet, I still feared it might've killed him; but fortune - it would appear - favors us this day. Well that and he is Dasur... after all. As stubborn as they come," he says with the slightest of grins. The proud dwarf obviously having a difficult time with what he had to do. "And yes, let's bind him up before he comes to. We need to find out who this 'Host' is." Snorri grabs the dwarf's staff and spell components as suggested by Glenda and Torvi respectively and hands the components to the latter while holding on to the staff himself. He then removes the rope from his pack and works on tying him up.
Once that is done, "I will carry him. Now, where in this dungeon is there a 'safer' place to mend our wounds?" He looks over at the drow, "Erebos?"
"Strangely enough, I agree with Dasur's recommendation to go back to the temple area."
Looking to Torvi, he nods. "Done. Let us be off." Snorri throws his bound package over his shoulder and starts off toward the temple. "Iverna! We are tactically withdrawing! We would gladly have you follow if you so desire!" he says clearly, putting forth no effort in an attempt to locate her whereabouts but is absolutely confident she is near.
You withdraw from the makeshift temple and back up the main shaft to the safehold above. Glenda places her holy symbol against the seal and exerts her will, The seal flashes dimly, any light at all seeming bright in this eternal darkness. The great door opens and you move in, closing the door behind you. For the moment, you are likely safe from incursions that are not incorporeal, at least, and the altar offers some protection from undead.
Safe in their holdfast, Torvi looks to Glenda, ”with a night of preparation and prayer, what can you do for him, and how can I help?”
As they reach their makeshift 'safe haven', Snorri places his unconscious ally carefully upon the ground. He then turns to the others. "Would any of you have any knowledge on who - or what - this 'host' is that Dasur continues to speak of?" he asks, crossing his arms. "And how do we put an end to it?"
”I don’t. If anyone did, it would be Snorri, but he would babble on for an hour about something crazy while describing it, and never get to the point!”
As they reach their makeshift 'safe haven', Snorri places his unconscious ally carefully upon the ground. He then turns to the others. "Would any of you have any knowledge on who - or what - this 'host' is that Dasur continues to speak of?" he asks, crossing his arms. "And how do we put an end to it?"
Snorri looks to Torvi with a raised eyebrow. He then turns his attention toward Glenda with that same questioning look before eventually giving her a wink and looking back to Torvi with a serious expression about him. He then clears his throat and responds in an absolute perfect and dignified manner. "Well forgive me, Torvi, but in my defence if I knew anything at all I wouldn't've asked in the first place. And secondly let me also beg forgiveness about all my 'babbling on and on about something crazy'. I did not realize I annoyed you to such an extreme. While this news truly troubles me, troubles me to the depth of my soul, I will strive diligently in the future to work on 'getting to the point'. It appears I've got much to learn if I'm to be any sort of 'fit' ruler," he concludes, turning away in mock despair and shooting Glenda a wry grin and another wink.
The heavily armored figure flinches with a scrape of metal against stone as a screech of frustration fills the cavern. Moving back to a proper stance of readiness, the dwarven warrior bows his head slightly, as if listening to an unheard voice.
"I understand," comes the gravelly voice, echoing in the great helmet atop the dark plated armor. "I await your command, master," the voice continues, a bit smoother and of higher register this time, and the plated head bows once more in deference to an unheard, inscrutable voice.