Harrol watches in slack-jawed amazement as Gregori fights, nearly forgetting to hurl his slingstone at the wounded mongrelman.
Harrol's slingstone is well aimed, but the swirl of melee defeats it - Nessa's form obscuring his target just long enough to send the stone wide.
The wounded mongrelfolk looks about desperately, but given the press of your forms around the door sees no easy way out. It lashes out with it's club defensively...
Club:
... before withdrawing slightly.
Action Tracker (Round 10): Harrol, Injured Mongrel, Nessa, Lann, Theodric, Other Mongrels, Eudocia, Gregori
"That's right! Run! I see the fear in your eyes!" Nessa curses and laughs at the wounded opponent as he falls back while she wrenches her sword free of the doorjam.
Given the space, she steps forward and attacks his less apprehensive friend.
Theodric takes one of the pilfered healing potions from his bag and pours it down Lann's throat, holding his head up to make sure he doesn't cough it back up.
Nessa's advance is rewarded with a well aimed blow that cuts through cloth and flesh to be defeated by bone. Both of the remaining mongrel folk are wounded and defensive - much of their will to fight being extinguished as the blue skinned mongrel with the bow was laid low.
Theodric seeks to safeguard Lann's recovery through imbibition of curative, while the cut one seeks to crush Nessa in return...
Club at Nessa: for
Confirm: for
...a fluky deflection off her blade driving the mongrel's club into her chest.
Eudocia's Northern vigil continues to show no sign of being disturbed.
Action Tracker (Round 10): Harrol, S Mongrel, Nessa, Lann, Theodric, N Mongrel, Eudocia, Gregori
Action Tracker (Round 11): Harrol, S Mongrel, Nessa, Lann, Theodric, N Mongrel, Eudocia, Gregori
Given that the back of the mongrel resistance is broken, the remaining two mongrels offer but scant resistance before they are also put to the sword by Nessa and Gregori. As they crumple to bleed upon the floor the corridors of the mongrel's lair grows eerily quiet.
Lann's bloodied body is brought back to consciousness (though barely) by Theodric's curative, and he gingerly maneuvers to a wall to catch his breath still seated.
The room where the blue skinned mongrel attacked from can now be seen more clearly without the swirling affray. In the southwestern part of this room, stout stone chairs surround a block of larger stone that serves as a table. The table’s top strewn with bone dice and cracked clay jugs. Stained canvas pillows rest on the chairs. A copper bowl filled with coals hangs from the ceiling, filling the room with warmth and an orange glow.
A hole in the ground in the southeast corner of the room drops down out of view, but rope ladder hangs down the shaft that looks to be climbable.
Both are demon lords.
"Gregori, you put the heart crossways in me, chargin' on in loike dat!" the halfling pipes up, clutching his holy symbol. "I'll see these bastards on to the Boneyard there now, and see right to patchin' yew two up."
Clumsily seeing the fallen mongrels to the next life, Harrol begins to channel his healing magic...
...before sitting down beside Lann and fussing over his wounds. "... and so Saint Lymirin said, let us not grow weary of doin' good, fer in due season we will reap, if we do not give up." he recites, smiling earnestly. "How is the pain? I think I have a naggin of brandy in my healer's kit. Don't be silly now, of course you'll have a nip."
"Mr. Shadowbane, what do you make of this?" Eudocia asks, handing him the small carved focuses taken off their fallen enemies.
Theodric breathes a sigh of relief when Lann revives, quickly trying to compose himself. After the messy business of finishing off the unconscious foes, work that Theodric watches with a look of distaste, the scholar feels his heart rate slow back down as he studies the holy symbols of the cultists.
That's strange, he muses aloud, these two worship Baphomet, this one Deskari. I never understood what would drive a rational person to choose to follow the whims of a demon, but then, not everyone can be sane I suppose. But why would followers of two different demons work together?
"We are not all followers of Iomedae, Mr. Abernathy," Eudocia reminds him gently, "and yet we can work together against a common enemy. If the Crusaders are defeated, all of the Abyss triumphs. No doubt they presume they can fight amongst themselves at their leisure after that."
Deskari is known as the Lord of the Locust Host. Many scholars believe that he shall be the usher of the apocalypse, and his cult is one of the strongest within the Worldwound and surrounds. The demonic lord is thought to be incredibly powerful and commands some of the minor demon lords as near vassals to his strength.
Baphomet is known as the Lord of the Minotaurs. He is oft worshipped by urban dwellers who form secretive cults known as the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth. They seek to topple lawful regimes from within.. and there have been intermittent rumors of their presence and influence within Kenabres' walls.
Both demon lords have long been part of the hordes that the forces of the crusades battle against - and Theodric can recall that Khorramzadeh the Storm King has been thought associated with the seat of Deskari's power at the Worldwound's core - where the earth itself is rent with abyssal power.
The holy symbols of Baphomet match those that you saw upon the bodies earlier.
Eudocia feels uncomfortable as she examines the symbol unholy, but wagers it's worth between 20 and 30 gold if it were sold intact.
During the looting (ie. resource gathering) Nessa will lay on her belly and stick her head through the hole. "What they got down 'ere, I wonder?"
"I'd put something less valuable than my head down there first, if I were you," Eudocia warns the halfling wryly. Assuming Gregori has his halo on for light, she'll send her dancing lights down the hole so Nessa can see. "Let's not get too comfortable here. There are surely more of them about."
Gregori takes a deep breath as Harrol's healing washes over him and listens as Theodric explains the unholy symbols. Stepping over to Eudocia he extends his hand. "If you don't mind, Id rather make sure these can never be used again." the Paladin says.
Eudocia hands over the unholy symbol after a moment of thought. "I suppose it has no historical value," she admits.
"These are far too dangerous in the wrong hands, they're just as useful as evidence in pieces." Gregori lays each holy symbol on the ground before drawing his warhammer and striking.
Gregori's heavy blade falls upon the unholy symbols, destroying the conduits for blasphemy. The action feels righteous, and your hearts are bouyed knowing that no further harm would be caused by them.
Eudocia's scouting light illuminates no threats, so Nessa's head then becomes the primary source of clairvoyance into the area below. It spies a second set of guard posts - half walls overlapping and giving position for defenders to make a stand. The air in the lower cavern smells of damp and mold, water glistening on the walls, and a stagnant pool along one side.
At the eastern end of the lower cavern a closed door blocks passage any further.
Noting also a door to the North East in the room with the blue skinned mongrel, it is opened to show a trash pit attended by all manner of cockroaches and worms - breaking down the accumulated waste of the mongrels. Seeing no point of assaulting your olfactory nerves further - you happily shut the door.
Lann rejoins you more hale and hearty for Harrol's healing, but he shows a little reticence this time for walking near the front given his recent unconscious episode. He stands ready for your thoughts on how best to proceed.
"So, do we want to complete the sweep of this level, possibly allowing them to prepare for us further in, or strike now while they may be unprepared and risk having to fight our way out?" Gregori asks thoughtfully.
"Pull up the rope ladder and push the stone table, or one of the chairs if it's too heavy, over the hole," Eudocia instructs. "That ought at least to make things difficult for them to come up after us. I'd rather have their main force deeper below us than get caught with them between us and the surface."
The rope ladder is retrieved, and in reasonably quick time furniture is repositioned to give a hefty deterrent against passage up through the hole.
"Strategy is the art of creating power, Mr. ... Lann," Eudocia stumbles a bit over how formally to address the mongrelman. "Next time, don't place yourself within reach of two enemies; try to draw them out from cover. If we'd denied their archer a target, he'd have had to come out in the open where it might have been we with a chance to attack from multiple directions." She lets Gregori and Nessa take the lead as they head north and then east, keeping her bow in hand.
Lann looks suitably chastised by Eudocia's suggestions, and allows Gregori and Nessa to take the lead while moving through the remainder of the caverns.
Moving into the room that held the cultists, you scan the trophies lining the walls, but see nothing worthy of further investigation. The door to the East leads to a small chamber with a long drop down to what appears to be an underground stream. The presence of fish bones, blood and a bucket on a rope leads you to think that the river is used as a source of food and water... and perhaps for ablutions. The river itself is forty feet down through the narrow long drop.
Back in the trophy chamber though, you also spy a ladder along the Northern wall partially obscured by a hanging cloth. It leads upwards through a rudimentary looking trapdoor.
Harrol murmurs his agreement, and satisfied that the matter has been settled, turns to Eudocia. "Where was it you learnt so much, then so?" he asks bluntly, his simple curiosity getting the better of his manners. "er, that is if yew don't mind sharing, Miss Fairday..."
He looks up. "... a trapdoor! I fancy daylight isn't too far away. Gods above, I'll bet we look loike a right ol' mess."
Harrol murmurs his agreement, and satisfied that the matter has been settled, turns to Eudocia. "Where was it you learnt so much, then so?" he asks bluntly, his simple curiosity getting the better of his manners. "er, that is if yew don't mind sharing, Miss Fairday..."
"At the Kith. The Kitharodian Academy in Oppara," she explains. "It's one of the largest colleges of the arts in the known world. I never had any great talent at performing -- I can sing a little and play a little and dance a little -- but they also taught fencing. Our instructor taught us that the battlefield is a stage like any other, and if one with a proper understanding of choreography can wrest control of the fight from one who is technically superior but cannot read the stage directions."
He looks up. "... a trapdoor! I fancy daylight isn't too far away. Gods above, I'll bet we look loike a right ol' mess."
Eudocia unconsciously raises a hand to smooth her hair. "We'd probably be turned away from opening night at the House of the Immortal Son," she admits, "but Kenabres itself wasn't looking its best the last we saw of it. If it still stands, I imagine they'll be happy to see us turn up, no matter how scuffed and battleworn."
"Oppara! In... Taldor, roight?" he chirps up, unabashed by his ignorance. "I grew up along the Sellen. The Andoran side, mind yew. I learned me letters from this here book. Been carrying it around some eight years or so now." he says, drumming his fingers on the leatherbound copy of the Acts of Iomedae at his side. "A preacher left it behind when I was a lad. If it weren't for that little accident, I'd still be plyin' the riverboats and yew'd be needin' somebody else to set your bones and stitch yew up." he says, beaming at the others in the dark. "Funny old world this, isn't it?"
You sense there's more to his story, but suddenly aware of the attention focused on him he grimaces and changes the subject. "Well now, that's your story, milady. What about yew lot? Ness? Lann? Theodoric?" His eyes linger over Gregori and his voice trails off. He still regards the paladin with a great deal of awe.
Lann listens with some interest to the stories of the world above, his life experience obviously not being as colored as that of your own.
The ladder is ascended into a small chamber that smells of rat piss, with a thin tunnel leading east to another guard post... that is currently devoid of guardians. Beyond the half-height barriers is another door set in a masonry wall leading East.
"Where is everyone?" Eudocia murmurs uneasily. "This place is too large to be so sparsely populated."
"Oppara! In... Taldor, roight?" he chirps up, unabashed by his ignorance. "I grew up along the Sellen. The Andoran side, mind yew. I learned me letters from this here book. Been carrying it around some eight years or so now." he says, drumming his fingers on the leatherbound copy of the Acts of Iomedae at his side. "A preacher left it behind when I was a lad. If it weren't for that little accident, I'd still be plyin' the riverboats and yew'd be needin' somebody else to set your bones and stitch yew up." he says, beaming at the others in the dark. "Funny old world this, isn't it?"
You sense there's more to his story, but suddenly aware of the attention focused on him he grimaces and changes the subject. "Well now, that's your story, milady. What about yew lot? Ness? Lann? Theodoric?" His eyes linger over Gregori and his voice trails off. He still regards the paladin with a great deal of awe.
Theodric wrinkles his nose at the unpleasant smell, but does snap out of his thoughts when Harrol poses the question.
Well, he says, thinking a bit, my story begins much the same as all of yours. I was recently assigned to a post in Kenabres and a demonic army attacked in force, slaying its most powerful guardian in the process. In the assault, the ground was torn asunder and I plummeted into the bowels of the earth. Now I stand, helping to slay mutated former crusaders who, for some reason, have chosen to ally with demons. To be sure, there was a little before that, but isn't that mostly prologue?
He smiles at what he perceives is his own cleverness, but continues, ultimately trailing off. As for the prologue, it was mostly books by candelight. People, too, who thought that money could buy them beauty, knowledge, friends. Clothes? Yes. Books? Yes. But their money couldn't make them smart or interesting, at least not to me...
Standing ready for anything, Eudocia coaxes the door open from a distance... it swings wide revealing a large chamber that must have once been a cistern for the sewer system. Walls made of identical stone blocks hold up a lofty ceiling reinforced with elegant stone arches, while the center of the room contains a more recent-looking structure made of brick walls that reach from floor to ceiling.
There is a single entrance to the area blocked off by the walls of brick on the northern edge of the room.
Moving forward, Eudocia's dancing light guides the way and does not yet result in any response from the depths of the walled area. Cautiously you approach the area where you might see deeper... and come to a quick realization that the walled area has been built to act as a choke point and maze. With wary glance you confirm that it does not look as though any archers could lurk with oversight... but the passage through the walls is swallowed by twists and turns as it goes deeper into the room - with cutbacks and turns blocking your ability to see further without plunging into the midst of the mortared walls.
"Beggin' yer pardon, milord, but I can give you a blessing before we head on, if yew'd like." the halfling says, earnestly. "Stand firm wit' the belt of truth buckled aboot yer waist, with the brestplate of roighteousness in place... wit' yer feet fitted wit' the readiness that comes from the goddess of vigilance..."
"I've been in a few torchlit shrubbery mazes at country house parties back home," Eudocia remarks conversationally. "The worst I ever found in them were some drunken Taldan Horse officers." Deciding that her bow is unlikely to be useful in the middle of a line of people in a labyrinth, she draws her rapier and prepares to follow Gregori and Nessa in.
"Thank you Harrol." Gregori says as he feels the blessings settle upon him. With a solemn nod he strides forward, leading the way, halo blazing, sword and shield at the ready.
Gregori leads you into the brickwork maze, and the walls press in around you as dancing shadows and flickering light threatens enemies hiding in each and every corner. The complexity of the maze though is limited by the less than grandiose size of the room it sits within. The side passages are mostly small dead ends, and Gregori finds it relatively easy to negotiate a path through...
It is when you are within the depths of the maze and have left the entrance behind you when a guttural sound emanates from one of the dead-ends that you have left behind you. As you turn to see a bloated squat obese creature belch forth a green tinged cloud of fog that invades your throat and nose - driving deep into your senses to nauseate and drive you to distraction...
Lann:
Harrol:
Eudocia:
Nessa:
Gregori:
Theodric:
Action Tracker (Round 1): Eudocia, Nessa, Harrol, Gregori, Lann, Theodric, ??
The skin of all demons is resistant to blades not made of cold iron or aligned with the forces of good. Dretches are not generally dangerous at range where arrows or quarrels can be brought to bear... but they are unaffected by the putrid fog that has been disgorged into the maze of tunnels. Electricity cannot harm them... and fire, cold and acid is repelled by their leathery skin. The last of their abilities is to summon to surface the fears that consume a man's courage.