Malthazir quickly casts a spell upon Gruskorb allowing the hobgoblin to take flight down the fissure. He races down into the darkness hearing the pairs voices talking urgently about light and shadows. Desperate to get to his sister, Truk'tosh looks at the wizard, praying to receive the same enchantment quickly.
Garidan hits one of the ants with a well placed arrow. Although she cannot recall anything about such massive insects, Niyut's blast of snow and ice critically damages the ant causing it to freeze to its core.
The ants advances upon Garidan and Niyut with great speed. These enormous ants have vicious mandibles and a dripping stingers, and look large enough to devour a horse. They each successfully grab their target with their massive mandibles, but their stingers fall short of penetrating either Garidan's or Niyut's defenses.
"Release me."
Though his attack hits truly, the swashbuckler has no time to do more than think of a second shot when the ant is upon him, it's speed startling the young man. That surprise proves costly when the ant takes advantage of his confusion to catch him in its mandibles with a vicious attack that leaves Garidan gasping in pain. By this point, sadly, Garidan is somewhat accustomed to getting viciously mauled and still responding intelligently, and he quickly sets to work wriggling free of the oversized insect's hold.
Escaping the fearsome jaws, Garidan nimbly scoots back while stowing his bow. The instant his hands are free, he has his rapier in hand and assumes his preferred defensive stance, hoping very much that the creature's inevitable attack will be successfully warded off. A passing thought has him wishing that Malthazir hadn't been staring at the giant like a stunned fish when Garidan requested the use of his noisome pet; that thing's disturbing touch would surely have been quite helpful in mending the results of Garidan's unexpected tree encounter.
Niyut spins away from the giant insect. Her black silk robes whirl around her as she escapes beyond its reach.
Pointing her mother's wand at a space behind the vermin, she pours sorcery through the wand.
Certain the emotional Truk'tosh would rush to his sister's rescue, Gruskorb instead went after the talkative Garidan. Malthazir's boon of flight lightened his body and gave him the freedom to dash through the air. This feels amazing!
His exhilaration was short-lived though, for the giant formians were more fearful than their obnoxious, albeit persistent, kin.
At least they should bleed like anything else...
Dropping behind Garidan's sparring partner, the rogue aimed his lashes at the segmented edge of the creature's thorax and body.
Unbalanced from the flight, Gruskorb's strokes went wide. Damn...
plus grab
plus poison
plus grab
plus poison
Nearby, Garidan wiggles free from the ant attacking him. Dropping his bow, he takes a short step back and draws his rapier as Gruskorb soars above the ant. Landing on the far side, the rogue snaps both of his whips at the giant insect but fails to find a vulnerable spot. Feeling the whips careen of its back, the ant turns upon Gruskorb and snatches him up. Holding the hobgoblin tight , it thrusts its stinger into his left side.
Perplexed, the other ant drops Niyut who steps back and blasts the creature with another ball of ice from her wand. Badly hurt, the ant retaliates with its massive mandibles, grabbing the oracle. It's stinger, dripping with poison flashes forward and pierces Niyut's chest, and she goes limp.. The ant turns and begins to scurry away towards the tunnel from which it emerged.
Garidan is prepared to attack the ant that just turned from him to maul Gruskorb, when Niyut is once more set upon by her own foe, this time with more worrisome results. With a wordless shout of worry, Garidan gives chase. Of course, even at his best speed, two legs are simply no match for six and the ant draws well ahead of the swashbuckler. Until Garidan reaches for that strange bit of essence-granted power within and surges forward with another shout. Reaching the unaware insect, Garidan brutally slams his rapier into its unguarded abdomen, holding back nothing from the attack in an effort to slay it before it disappears with his limp--she's only unconcious, not dead, he thinks to himself--companion's body.
Completely spoiling the element of surprise, Gruskorb found himself caught, envenomed, and imperiled.
His muscles weakened as whatever agent making its way into his system proved very effective. The rogue would have to rely on his agility, attempting to squirm out of the insect's grasp.
Born on unseen wings Truk'tosh's muscular bulk drifts through the air with impossible grace behind Gruskorb. When he spots his twin's bloodied form being carried off by the giant vermin, the Firebird champion is quickly sent into a wordless rage that would make his father's tribe proud. With a roar he descends on the further of the two scavengers and smashes his weapon into the target of his wrath.
Gliding through the air, the raging half-orc brings his axe down upon the ant fleeing with his sister in tow. With a violent shudder, the ant drops the unconscious oracle upon the cavern floor. It turns to gaze at Truk'tosh, preparing to lash out with its mandibles soaked in Niyut's blood, but succumbs to its wounds and falls over dead.
Gruskorb has worse luck, as he fails to squirm free from the ant's grasp.
Refusing to believe fate had condemned him to death so soon, the rogue persisted.
Gods be damned! Querkus, you might need a new home soon! Trying to distract himself from the panic with personal levity, his own jest fell short in his thoughts as he attempted to hew the fang of his major whip into a loose end in the creature ... hopefully prompting his release.
Malthazir casts Fly upon himself and winks down the fissure to the entrance to the cavern. Seeing the oracle lying unconscious, he holds the devil ooze aloft and races to Niyut.
With Truk'tosh rushing overhead to his sister's rescue, Garidan continues his assault on the insect grappling the struggling hobgoblin. Again, his rapier drives into its abdomen with as much effort as he can muster, the dangerously wounded swashbuckler willingly risking a brutal retaliation in exchange for inflicting as much damage as possible.
Finding a weak spot in the insect's hardened body armor, Garidan skewers the ant holding Gruskorb. Black bile gushes from the wound as the ant reals from the attack.
With a silent prayer to the nearest spirits of succor and healing, Truk'tosh lays a hand Niyut's bloodied form. "Sister, come back to us..."
As his allies came to his aid, Gruskorb intended to make full use of his leverage on the creature now.
plus grab
plus poison
With a quick blessing to the spirits, Truk'tosh stabilizes his sister and brings a bit of healing to the unconscious oracle. Meanwhile, Gruskorb throws his hands up and slips from the ant's grasp. Still aching from the wounds inflicted upon it by the swashbuckler, the ant turns upon Garidan. It's vicious mandibles lash out at him, but Garidan easily ducks under them. But coming up, the ant's stinger, still dripping with venom, hits Garidan squarely in the chest. Believing his life may be over, he looks down at his chest. But rather than see that the insect has impaled him and has begun pumping poison into his body, he finds that his newly repaired mithril breastplate has thwarted the attack. With a sly grin, he looks back to the ant.
Malz leaves the devil ooze on, flying up to see the other ant. He raises a hand, then barks out a spell to create a patch of grease under the giant insect.
Thanking his patron Calledrym for the narrow margin by which he escaped the ant's efforts to strike him down--with thanks also spared for the unknown artisan who made his new armor, for his old chain wouldn't have stopped that stinger--Garidan continues to harry the ant with his blade. With its efforts at defending itself growing weaker and more sporadic, Garidan needs only wait for the right moment. And the instant he sees that moment, he strikes to deadly effect, stepping past the flexing mandibles and plunging the rapier's tip deep into one compound eye. The blow is accompanied by the crisp smell of ozone and--for the ant alone of those within the cavern--a wail that is felt more than heard.
The wizard springs into action flying high above the ant and shouts the arcane words to form the familiar grease spot underneath the creature. The ant slips as it turns to regroup following its attack upon Garidan, and falls. With the ant's belly exposed, Garidan thrusts his rapier deep into its thorax. In a violent explosion of guts and gore, the massive insect dies.
With the threat of battle gone, everyone turns their attention to the oracle who regains consciousness through the powers of the devilooze, but is complete devoid of strength and unable to move. No sooner had Niyut's fate been revealed, Gruskorb falters and falls to a knee complaining of severe weakness. Within seconds, he too collapses and is unable to move.
Eyeing the fissure above from which the ants originated, Garidan wipes a bit of insect gore from his face with his free hand, the other still keeping his rapier ready. "I don't think we want to linger here any longer. Surely those two will have a nest further on, with more of their of kind filling it," the swashbuckler remarks with a worried tone of voice while retrieving his bow. "If Truk'tosh can carry his sister--and her plant, mustn't forget that--and Gruskorb up with Malthazir's aid, then come back for me, we can be quit of this place. I'd rather trust my life to that storm than an unknown number of foes like that.
Turning his eyes briefly to the pair who are clearly suffering some manner of poisoning, though he knows not what sort, Garidan continues. "Fortunately, we do have something available in our supplies to treat a wide range of venoms and toxins. The problem is, we've only a single dose of the stuff. And I've no knowledge at all about treating such ailments any other way. Do any of you," he asks hopefully.
"I am not a transmuter nor an evoker, I have no way of moving them." Malz says with a frown.
In response to Malthazir's statement, Garidan rolls his eyes and wags his fingers pointedly in the caster's direction. "It's called manual labor. A foreign concept, perhaps, to someone accustomed to using magic for everything, so I'll explain the intricacies. It involves you using your muscles, such as they are, by slinging one of our companions over a shoulder and then going back up that hole the same way you got down it." Eyes still fixed firmly on the location by which the ants arrived, Garidan points somewhat toward Truk'tosh with the tip of his blade. "Watch him if you need a demonstration of how that works, yeah?" It seems that Garidan's usual even temper has taken as much of a beating as his body today, leaving him little enough patience for much anything that doesn't involve solutions to the problems they currently face.
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"Well it sounds like something you're familiar with, I suggest you get started so we can be on our way."
The swashbuckler interrupts his watch just long enough to give Malthazir a flat stare that hints at a rapidly fraying temper. "I'd like to, but someone who won't risk falling to death--theirs and possibly another's in the bargain--trying to climb with a load on their back and blood-slicked hands maybe needs to contribute some sweat today. And you've been volunteered by virtue of having nothing else of use to do right now." Pointing at Gruskorb, Garidan's attention returns to the ant's entryway as he speaks, his voice straining with poorly suppressed aggravation. "So grab one of our injured allies and fart your way back up that crack in the rock instead of wasting time. Because, and this appears to have slipped your mind in all the excitement, our supply animal is still up there as well. Unattended. With most everything we need to live strapped to his back. Since you, in a fit of whatever passes for common sense in that pointy little head of yours, decided to join the fun down here instead of keeping watch over our critical supplies in this mess, you get to help haul on your way out."
While Garidan and Malthazir have a spirited discussion on the best way for the party to escape the tunnels, Truk'tosh fusses over his wounded twin.
"The spirits have stopped the bleeding but she's still unconscious. Malthazir, can you mend her wounds with your bloodling?" he asks aloud without looking the elf's way.
The pernicious poison having spread throughout his body, the hobgoblin felt his limbs growing still - not because he was restrained this time, but because they were too heavy to lift. His form, not corpulent by any stretch, became too much for his legs to bear, and he crumpled without much of a cry as his lungs worked merely to sustain his breathing.
But I lived.
As the haughty elf and quarrelsome swashbuckler hashed-out words over what labor entailed, a bit of urgent reasoning sparked in the paralyzed Gruskorb. Querkus ... those ants are things you see around here? They're noraml? Grsukorb knew full-well they were abnormal for him ... but between giant trees and tree giants, he didn't know what to expect of this place.
"G... Garidan! Cut-off the end of one of the mandibles for me." Clearly struggling to speak even, he didn't deign to push himself; they could be in for more trouble soon.
"Ah yes, how terribly selfish of me to save Niyut. Next time I'll try to think of the supplies." Malz answers Truk by giving the devil ooze permission to continue, letting it run rampant over Niyut's wounds. "We also have two party members with completely atrophied muscle systems, which means they are out of commission until they receive significant magical healing or a lot of rest. We need to find someplace safe to hole up for a while."
Giving Gruskorb a glance of mingled surprise and disbelief at the request he has just made, Garidan sighs, shakes his head, and draws his dagger to give the hobgoblin the trophy he apparently desires. Tucking the severed bit of chitin into Gruskorb's harness, he address Malthazir's comments while cleaning and sheating the small blade. "Truk'tosh stopped her from bleeding out, anything else can be taken care of somewhere other than here," Garidan grates out between clenched teeth. "This place, leading to an ant nest of unknown size and distance, does not qualify as 'safe' by any stretch. And yet, you act as though nothing could possibly trouble or interrupt us down here, now that these two ants are dead."
Growling in barely-checked anger over the elf's foolishness, the swashbuckler sheathes his rapier, grabs the fallen hobgoblin's arms, and drags him across the cavern floor to rest under the crack leading to the surface. "Well, you feel free to take as much time as you like. I'll get started on what you're clearly not up to managing with your awesome powers of spell and song, namely getting our wounded out of here before more trouble appears." With that, Garidan turns his attention to scaling the wall, heading for that opening to the surface.
Do not argue with idiots. They will drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.
Wow. I know you intellectual types can come off as callous but you really are an ass.
If you spent most of your life coddling what seemed like children you would grow impatient as well.
Only able to let out a grateful sigh in thanks to Garidan's acquiescence, the aegean rested a bit easier as he waited for some strength to recover. Perhaps slighlty overconfident given his state, Gruskorb's natural inner hubris took over.
And that's what you get for dancing with me, insect.
There was a twinge more vindictiveness, slightly more malice than would normally have been present in his thoughts though. In an unusually introspective and unprompted reflection, the rogue realized this and was slightly puzzled. The moment did not hold his attention for long though, passing into the haze of weariness encompassing him after the draining combat...
Amongst the angry tones of Garidan andMalthazir, the group wi able to get back up the fissure with both Niyut and Gruskorb incapacitated. They find Tacal staring at the group is quiet ignorance of the gravity of the situation just minutes before.
With the weather having died down the group rests comfortable for a few hours to regain some health. With the aid of Malthazir's devil ooze, everyone is back at full health. Although, little strength has returned to Niyut and Gruskorb.
Once she has regained consciousness, Niyut whispers, [smaller]"I can drive the poison away in time. Let me commune with the spirits."
After many hours of rest, where Niyut ask her brother to turn the pages of her book for her since she is too weak to turn the pages herself, she makes some head way with the ritual she has discovered.
She also communes with the great spirit of Life asking for aid to renew their wounds.
So this should get Gruskorb back to 8 Str and Niyut back to her full seven.
Niyut's plan to seek the aid of her spirits, as well as the nature of the poison afflicting her and Gruskorb, makes the lone dose of antitoxin irrelevant, so Garidan doesn't even bother digging it out of their supplies. With the decision made to spend some time camped out while Niyut communes with those aforementioned spirits, Garidan himself spends a bit more time with his new alchemy kit. Focusing his attention on the exacting task of preparing more acid, he finds that the work proceeds with unusual smoothness, far beyond his expectations, and the success puts Garidan in a much better mood as a result.
After packing his kit away once again, Garidan takes a bit time to search the storm-wracked and dying forest around their campsite. While he doesn't hold much hope of finding anything worthwhile, he won't know unless he looks. And there lurks, in the back of his mind, the possibilty of finding some quality wood that he can then carefully shape into a new buckler; Garidan finds the slight balance issues created by his current shield to be increasingly bothersome.
As Niyut tended to Gruskorb's wounds, he felt it prudent to divulge to her his recent experiences with Querkus. Maybe she can help give him some peace. I brought him home, but that turned-out to be a disaster...
"Thanks for taking care of me. Once their venom hit me, I was helpless. Wouldn't have made it without you and your brother." Gruskorb was fully-aware Niyut was probably worse-off than him at the time he entered the fray, yet she'd proven invaluable before - just as she was now.
"The spirit I spoke with you about before ... Querkus ... this is his home. Was. He seems as surprised by the ants and tree giant as we were, and I don't think that's a good thing. If there's any place he'd want a final rest, it's here though. Do you know a way to give him that?" He didn't have the vocabulary for the spirit world and its terms, but the rogue felt confident the principle was the same.
You've earned your rest, Querkus. I don't know if we know how to do it though. Normally, he wouldn't be that concerned with the status of others' personal well-being, but the spirit had proven supportive and helpful; a few good turns earned about one from the rogue ... eventually, anyway.
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Huddled by a small fire made of the fallen limbs of the great chestnut tree, the group finds solace. The intensely warm fire brings a little bit of hope back to the road-weary travelers. It is Niyut who first breaks the silence of the never-ending night when she inquires whether Malthazir is familiar with the "Oil of Vra'lithe". Searching her necrotic book, she had discovered that such a substance was the necessary component to convert any elemental essence into a "fire" essence through the Rites of Converto Elementis . The elf shook his head as he was unfamiliar with the substance, besides he required rest and would prefer not to discuss matter of black magic with the memories of the Tower still fresh in his mind.
"That's the main ingredient in Alchemist's Fire," Garidan blurted out without even raising his eyes from his alchemy kit. The swashbuckler was deep in thought as he worked diligently on his acid. "The oils are extracted from the seeds of Täsheran grapes. They are highly combustible and very rare with few known vines in existence. The grapes' flesh is bright red with streaks of orange and white. Quite unmistakable.". Without another word, Garidan packs his traveling kit and sweeps the surrounding area. Finding no sign of any movement, much less a tree giant, he returns to the camp with a sizable piece of chestnut tree's trunk. Regarding it with a discerning eye, the would-be-armorer thinks it could be fashioned into a fine buckler given time and patience.
As Gruskorb rests to regain his lost strength, his internal conversation with Querkus brings him some understanding of the druid. The forest... my home... is devistated, but all is not lost. I shall not rest until the great Chestnut tree is replanted safely... if that be possible. Take care of that rootstock that the oracle found, I beg of you. The knowledge contained in that ancient tree must not be lost.
Truk'tosh made good use of the down time keeping Tacal calm and the fire burning hot. After his sister had grown weary of reading and desired to rest and dream of the spirits, the half-orc carefully scoured the inside of the now-broken chestnut tree. Finding little of interest, he turned to head back to the fire when he spotted a large knot in the base of the tree where an ancient wound had healed itself. A crevasse no wider than half-a-hand split the knot it two. Shining a bit of torch light into the opening, he noticed a glint of metal reflecting the light. Truk'tosh reached his hand deep into the crevasse and pulled out a small, locked wooden box trimmed in gold. Reaching his hand deeper into the crevasse, Truk'tosh searched for the fallen key but found nothing.
Garidan took no notice of Truk'tosh nor his discovery as he carefully examined the chunk of wood he had found. Noting that the outer portion of the trunk is hard and smooth, he carefully works the green bark free and tosses it into the fire. The slight curve of the trunk is nearly a perfect surface to work into a buckler lashed to his forearm, the swashbuckler thinks. Working feverishly with his dagger to whittle the wood into shape, he fails to notice the glowing embers of the fire which have taken on an emerald hue as does everyone else. Thick, sweet plumes of smoke waft up from the fire and slowly settle upon the campsite. The calming nature of the intense fragrance calms them all, even the beast, Tacal. Soon everyone finds themselves settling down to a well-deserved slumber... without so much as a watch on duty.
After several hours, the fire dies down and the smoke fades. Tacal moans with a start, awaking the camp. Confused but refreshed the group checks the camp to find it still safe and secure. Niyut goes about calling upon her familial spirit to restore some of her strength and that of Gruskorb.
"We are all in this together. I might have not been so badly hurt if I hadn't grown overconfident. Some of my magic depends on being in shadow. Previously, Garidan has always kept the lights dim, and I had grown overly reliant on such thoughtfulness."
Gruskorb might -- might -- detect some annoyance in her tone. Whether that is aimed at herself or the young swordsman, who is to say?
"As for your possessing spirit, you might remember that I said that the elders of my people knew rituals to banish such spirits to where they belong on the opposite side of the veil. The only reason your possessing spirit has a hold on you is because it took root in your palace of bone during the storm. Unfortunately, the elders did not see fit to teach me such incantations."
She gestures to the open book in her lap. "But hope is not lost. This tome contains many secrets of ritual magic. It seems that every time I look that I find new pages unread. It could be that I could recreate a ritual similar to the one the elders knew. Though to be honest, the type of magic described in this book seems to operate on principles of the arts known by my father's people than the secrets of the Firebird. I see three solutions to your problem. First, I could create the exorcism ritual anew. Second, we discover a living elder of my tribe who knows such secrets. Third, I might commune with one of the elders in dream. Each of these solutions takes time. Time to research. Time to seek. Time to dream. While I hold the connection with the Sacred Mother, my ancestors are far from me. If I commune with my ancestors, I cannot access the gifts that allow me to drive the poison from your body. I can help you, but I have no quick solutions. If you have a good rapport with your uninvited guest, perhaps he will seek a new vessel -- such as this root -- and leave your palace of bone on his own accord."
Ritual Exorcism
School abjuration; Level 4
Casting Time 40 minutes
Components V, S, M (vial of holy water), F (silver holy symbol), SC (up to 12)
Skill Checks Knowledge (religion) DC 28, 2 successes; Spellcraft DC 28, 2 successes
Range close (25 ft. + 5 ft./character level of the primary caster)
Target one helpless possessed creature or a restrained possessed object
Duration instantaneous
Saving Throw Will negates; Spell Resistance yes
Backlash All casters become exhausted.
Failure All casters gain 1 temporary negative level (DC = 16 + primary caster’s Charisma bonus to remove after the first day), and the primary caster takes 4d6 points of damage.
EFFECT
You force the life force of a possessing creature to leave its host. Upon the completion of this ritual, the possessing creature attempts a Will saving throw. If it fails the save, the possessor is expelled, as if the duration of the spell or effect it used to possess the target had expired. If the possessing creature succeeds at the save, it continues to stay within the host creature or object, though the ritual can be attempted anew as long as the possessed creature is helpless or the object restrained.