Tess got a worried look on her face as she saw the undead shake off the effects of her blow. She was nigh useless, but she wasn’t going to give up. She again picks up a piece of the debris and throws it at the undead with her mind.
Ranged Attack with IC
Damage
The false cleric blinks and attempts to jerk away from the undead, but finds little success in her venture. A pitiful noise emanates from her as the nail is driven into her trachea and she goes to the floor in quick succession; her breathing taking on a ragged and irregular note.
But she doesn't seem to be actively dying, at any rate.
Tessara continues with her attacks, trying to keep this strangely animated dead from its inexorable assault... and once more, she strikes but causes little damage - the loose stone she threw embedding itself in dead skin...
Oscar desperately retrieves one of the stolen scrolls, discarding his useless crossbow. Barely stopping to ensure he has the right one he starts to chant.
Did we decipher these? If not he'll need to spend a full round deciphering and make a spellcraft roll dc 20. He has +8.
If we have deciphered them (and I think we have if we know what the spells are) then he can cast. I'm assuming CL 1?
Staggering now, and with the creature on its back more violent in its puppet-master like motions, the thing that was once a simple worker at the Theatre, judders towards Tessara...
Velrun knows he can do little to damage the foul creature, so he turns his attention to protecting his companion. The narrow confines prove far more hampering than he would like.
Tessa withdraws to the south, trying to get out of reach of the strange creature.
"Dead! No vitals!" Oscar calls out "We need magic, or a way to... to cut this thing apart!"
Desperately he backs away while he draws another scroll, another bolt of energy winging its way towards the mechanic. Even as he did he cursed himself for not saving some dreg of energy, or memorising some cantrip 'Though in my defence, it's not as if I've ever been in a situation like this before! Lesson for the future.'
5ft back (have not updated map). move to draw. standard to cast the second magic missile scroll.
Oscar's arcane bolts smash into the unthinking creature in the corridor, filling the space with the stink of burning flesh and spatters of black blood, but it doesn't do enough to stop the relentless march towards the group...
Still sprawled out on the floor with the fading remnants of a burning pain in her throat as the potion finishes mending the worst of her injury, Euphemia doesn't bother picking the longspear back up and instead goes for the knife tucked away into her vest.
An effort was made. Not a very good one, though.
The animated corpse, slow yet brutal with the cruel nail in its grasp, shuffles out of Euphemia's reach... and, raising its weapon above its head, stabs at Velrun.
The jagged metal strikes an exposed shoulder, and as it is driven deep into flesh and Velrun staggers backwards, the thing that was once a simple labourer from Toiltown lets the nail slip from its grasp.
Velrun collapses in a puddle of blood and gore, yet the pool of blood does not seem to be growing...yet.
Tess almost cried out in fear at seeing the undead cutting through her friends. All she could do was use her mind magic and hope to get lucky. She picks up a piece of the debris and throws it at the undead with her mind.
Ranged Attack with IC
Damage
In total there are: 4 potions of cure light wounds, 2 potions of remove fear, 2 oils of bless weapon, a scroll of chill touch, 2 scrolls of cure light wounds, 2 scrolls of magic missile, a scroll of shield, a scroll of shocking grasp, and a scroll of summon monster I.
should still be a scroll of shocking grasp.
Move: grab scrollStandard: cast spell.
Don't think he can use the free attack, so 5ft step forward.
Quickly Oscar grabbed another scroll, cast and rushed to defend the fallen Velrun.
As Velrun falls backwards, the nail in his shoulder stemming the flow of blood, Tessara is the quickest to act... grasping at a piece of loose machinery, a cog discarded to the floor years ago, with her mind - she flings it upwards towards the monster looming over Velrun. The fragment catches the zombie beneath the chin, and travelling at speed, passes completely through the undead mechanic's skull.
...the effect, as the metal wheel explodes from the rear of the man's head, is somewhat gory. And, tottering backwards - nearly falling upon Euphemia - the animated corpse is finally still.
”This whole place is a death trap. And we still aren’t nay closer to getting all the nails put back in place. Anyone have any suggestions here?”. Tess was becoming convinced that they were all going to die here.
Oscar slowly returned the scroll. "We can brainstorm when Velrun is able to speak." He extended a hand to his prone companion "Euphemia; I think some of those scrolls were healing. Undoubtedly arcane... but in the circumstances I think it worth you taking a look. Perhaps one can heal Velrun?"
"Goodness!" Euphemia cries out as gore sprays from the new hole in the creature's head, and nearly has the thing fall upon her.
Wiping the back of her hand down her face, she pushes herself up off the ground and returns the small dagger to the sheath beneath her vest, "I should have enough of my own magic left to heal Velrun myself, but I will keep those scrolls in mind..." As she speaks, the false cleric comes to the man's side and leans over, drawing a spark of positive energy into her hand to brush against him.
"... Yes, we may need one of those scrolls."
As Euphemia uses her healing magicks upon Velrun, the young man's grievous wound nearly closes and his breathing grows more regular. He, however, does not wake up.
Velrun stares up at the pretty face of the healer, his eyes glazed over...
"Momma...izzat you... he slurs before blinking his eyes several times. Once fully awake he staggers to his feet, clambering to retrieve his blade.
"It is...dead now? Thanks you for saving my life Euphenia!" He says fervently.
Oscar breathes a sigh of relief, and stoops to hand Velrun's blade to him. "Miss Omelian - would you care to restate your concern now mister Rivertongue is with us again?"
”I’m not sure all us of aren’t idiots. Maybe we need to just leave this place and go on about our lives? How many times have we almost died here already? 5is place is a death Trap!”
"I'm inclined to agree - not that we can simply walk away, but perhaps we should fetch the watch."[/]b he pauses [b]"Did that passage say we had 24 hours?"
Velrun holsters his blade as he recalls what the group had learned so far. His face pales as Oscar's words trigger a memory.
"Oscar's right! we don't have much time to seal up the portal here before it is un-sealable! If we leave here to find the Watch, it just gives the fiends more time to reinforce the Theatre with all sorts of foul creatures! Plus what will we tell the Watch?" He shakes his head in urgency, "The Theatre is missing some nails and so a portal to the Hells is going to open up? They'll toss us out on our backs...if we're lucky."
[The bottom drawer contains assorted papers and invoices, as well as a bound text containing the initiation rituals and practices of the Fraternitatem Æternam, which includes the coded instructions for an ensnaring circle ritual (the instructions are highly complex and would likely require weeks to practise and master). In addition - and highly pertinent, a section in the tome reveals the details of blessed nails and their use by acolytes to disrupt open portals in the event of a mishap. This information clearly indicates that the nails must be replaced within 24 hours of the last one being removed to restore the ward.
In total there are: 4 potions of cure light wounds, 2 potions of remove fear, 2 oils of bless weapon, a scroll of chill touch, 2 scrolls of cure light wounds, 2 scrolls of magic missile, a scroll of shield, a scroll of shocking grasp, and a scroll of summon monster I.
2 potions of protection from evil, one bar of soul soap, a small, nearly complete origami cockroach that is an origami swarm, and a single tube of abjurant salt
"The Fraternitatem Æternam said we had 24 hours from the nails being removed." Oscar argued. "I will not argue the urgency, but consider the risk. If we fall then no-one will know to come and reclaim the nail."
The young noble took a deep breath. "Still. We are here. Let us see what resources we can still possess, and how best to use them. Little point in saving our plunder if it costs us people. I am afraid I used both scrolls of 'magic missile'. We used a potion on Euphemia. We do still all have our weapons, and I believe the wardings I placed on Velrun and myself earlier are still in effect. Can someone confirm the remainder of our resources are still alright? We should also check our newly fallen foe for further useful items - and for nails."
"Selfishly I am afraid that if we are determined to stay I fear I must impose upon someone to attempt to use one of the scrolls upon my person."
"Truly, we are in a dire situation, yet take heart, for there is still time to fix this..." Surprise surprise, Euphemia is still frowning. She gives her head a small shake. "I've only a few scraps of my own magic left, and likely little that will aid us, but I can continue using this spear.
"Which scroll in particular would you like, Oscar? One of the healing ones? I could certainly try to help."
"Yes, a healing one." Oscar looked thoughtful.
"Let's see then - we've scrolls to remove wounds, potions to remove fear, oils to render a weapon enchanted for a minute or so, two scrolls that deal damage in melee, a scroll to provide protection for a minute, a scroll to summon an ally for a moment, 2 potions that provide protection for a minute, a bar of soap, an item to summon cockroaches and enough disruptive salt to block perhaps a fifteen foot line."
While Oscar's lessons on warfare and military tactics had emphasised heroism and de-emphasised the human costs, it had left him with an at least elementary understanding of combined arms.
"We should take up a more defensive formation. Velrun, you're the best with a blade. You should go in the front. Euphemia, if you can follow with the spear then anyone attacking Velrun will have to contend with your spear. I'll go next - if it appears that we face a threatening foe I'll use our resources. I could augment your spear and velrun's weapon, or enchant you with protection. If we face a more mundane foe I'll simply shoot at it. If we need to run I'll summon an ally long enough for us to disengage. Finally, Tessara, if you can bring up the rear and use your powers to damage those we face?"
"If we can find a place of the right dimensions we could ward the entrance. That would give us a place to flee to."
"I'm happy to write a note - there was a writing desk back there - and..." he toes the Quasit "This is evidence enough that something is up. Someone needs to take note and evidence to the watch."
He shakes his head "I fear that those within may flee when the watch arrives, and take with them the nails we need to seal the portal."
Velrun nods, his face determined. "Yes, I am ready to do this. Let's show these jokers what we are made of!" His tone quavers slightly as his attempt at bravado falls flat.
With Velrun having been taken to the precipice, and having been wrenched back by Euphemia's healing words, things had looked dire for the group... but the options laid out before them are starkly clear; retreat from this madness and let someone else, the office of the watch maybe, take responsibility... but time would seem to be against such a choice or to steel themselves and confront whatever lurks beyond the 'Mouth of Hell'...
Whilst they are considering their options, there is one perverse piece of good news... Velrun sees it first - the horrifically blackened metal spike that he had been stabbed with - it is, without any doubt, a sibling of the nail recovered from the alchemist Crux... and so, although the way ahead will be hard, the friends can be heartened by the fact that they already hold two of the nails.
Although a pessimist might focus on the two that remain missing.
The group may have been avoiding it... and their explorations of the office and of the service corridor had borne fruit... but it is clear now - the way forwards must be through the 'Mouth of Hell'... it stands before them, ominously pushing brumous fumes outwards and then, with a wheeze of fetid wind, sucking them back in - as if, somehow, the entrance to the Spook Show were breathing...
Tessara shook her head. ”I must be an idiot. Because I’m not leaving here, looks like. So we are going to press on ahead, then? I’m ready when the rest of you are. I guess.”
"Don't worry Tess," Velrun reassures her, "I'll be in front to protect you...ALL of you!"
Euphemia takes one of the healing scrolls from Oscar's newfound collection, looking over the dense magical script and humming...
Assuming this is an Arcane scroll: After a few seconds of looking over the scroll, Euphemia nods and, with a flourish of her free hand, sets about incanting the spell written onto the parchment in order to heal Oscar.
The scrolls that Oscar has liberated from their previous owners have, a very quick scan of the byzantine text confirms it, arcane power rather than any kind of energies imbued by the deific... and so, Euphemia finds it somewhat easy to use - and to maximise its effects.
Healed or, at the least, patched up, it is time for the friends to brave the spook show once more - with all that has happened in the Theatre, and with their previous experience of the 'entertainment', it is a fool's errand - but one, that if the time constraints are to be believed, that must be undertaken. The open demonic mouth of the spookshow’s entrance still grimaces widely - a more menacing visage than ever before whilst the striped tunnel beyond the portal is no longer spinning in its previous maddening gyre, but rather abruptly jarring with a loud, repetitive thunk, as if stuck or jammed... and from beyond, into the depths of the show, a soft glow of purple light pulses...
Euphemia narrows her eyes against the eerie violaceous pulse flickering ahead of the group. She brandishes the longspear in her hands, and as per Oscar's advice she takes up position behind Velrun to better utilize the length of the weapon should anything come upon them... or should they come upon anything.
"Little sense beating around the bush, now..."
Perception
”Look over there! There’s some sort of weird energy. It looks almost like a clawed hand every once and again!”
Velrun shakes his head as his eyes simply cannot pick out what Tessara sees. "If that is what I think it is, then it is either a trap or a guardian of some kind...yet I see no way around it."
Oscar breathes a sigh of relief as the pain in his ribs vanish under Euphemia's tender ministrations. "My wards might have saved my life, but they still let all too much through. The armor seems to..." he trails off, and smacks himself in the head. "My apologies ladies. It has only just occurred to me that protected as I am by my wards the superfluous armor I have been cursing might have protected you far better than Velrun and I. While I doubt armour cut bespoke for me would be of any use this is standard issue guard armor, designed to be easily worn by a variety of body shapes. Can I offer either of you a slightly worn suit? I'm not keen on fighting evil in my underclothes, but if it saves either of your lives I'd count it a trade well made."
Oscar peers into the purple glow, but sees nothing. "I see nothing." he thinks hard on what might be causing the effect. "A spell, a creature, or another damnable special effect from the show?"
"Perhaps I should use the scroll of summoning to have something else probe the way for us?"
Velrun nods slowly, "That may be for the best, as we do not have any other way to tell what it may be."
Oscar pulls out the scroll, ready to call a pawn into existence if a majority of the party concurs.
Tess nods her assent to using that summoning scroll to check for a trap
"Perhaps you ladies could keep watch for a moment" Oscar requests at Tess's nod to his offer.
He pulls off the loosened vest, and retrieves grieves and gauntlets from his pack. He hesitates a moment before removing the old fashioned leather cingulum, breathing in deeply as if about to dive into a cold river, and then pulls them down and hands them over.
He does his best to look nonchalant about standing there in leather boots, a light shirt and his boxers.
"Velrun, my friend." he asks in a strangled voice. "Might I borrow your cloak?"
"Of course."
Euphemia very politely looks away from Oscar, planting the butt of her longspear against the floor to lean against, as he strips down to little more than his undergarments to provide Tess with his leathers. She stares down the mouth of the Spookshow's entrance.
Velrun's jaw nearly drops out of his socket at the lack of modesty shown by Oscar here.
Doesn't he know we just passed an office where could have changed in privacy?
Trying not to blush here he silently hands over his cloak, while still keeping a close eye on the entrance.
There is a stench of burning ozone as Oscar intones the words of his scroll... and then, instantly panicked and nostrils flaring, a pure white pony flashes into existence within the swirling orifice of the tunnel. Too large to turn and flee out on to the balcony, Oscar's summons is unsteady on its feet... and is unable to protect itself in any way as the purple vapours pouring from the walls coalesce into a score or more of savage looking claws - and start to rend at it...
Somehow, and it seems that the gods of nature are smiling for once, the horse is unharmed by the attacks... and, as it bolts into the tunnel - supposedly away from danger - it phases out of existence...
Velrun pales as he sees the effect of the trap upon the summoned creature. "I...I am not sure how to stop that from happening again. My only idea is to trigger it and run past it before it resets."
Oscar shakes his head slowly. The guilt at what happened to the pony wars with the logic that it was only a temporary creation - idea, rather than flesh.
"If we do go through I dare say it makes sense to try that, and to go through together." doubt echoes the noble's voice. "Could we find a way around it, do you think?"
The idea that the 'trap' within the swirling maw may have some period of time between having been triggered and then being primed to activate once more comes a little too late to Velrun - and his observations of the claws becoming diffuse once more does not give him enough information to be sure about the relative safety of the tunnel...
...and as to Oscar's idea of circumventing the entrance into the spook show; from their observations so far and their previous experiences, there are no other entrances into the tunnels - although there is the exit from the show that, in their visit prior to the occult transformation of the Theatre Infernalis, spilled them out onto the balcony.
”Looks like if we are going to actually do anything here, we are going to have to suck it up and head into that....thing.”
"Right," Velrun agrees, "but we need to trigger the trap first..." he looks back at where the zombie lays on the floor behind them.
"Let's use that...body to trigger it again, then we dash through it! About time that zombie helps us, for once!"
Using the, still twitching, body of their attacker as bait... the group get ready to run through the swirling atmospheres of the maw. Velrun's suspicions that the claws would form for anything tossed into the Spookshow prove to be correct as the husk of what was once the theatre worker goes tumbling into the darkness - and is set upon by the grasping mists. Again and again, the darks shapes sprout from the tunnel walls and visibly diminish the corpse... until finally, evaporating to nothing, the entity within the entrance is sated and the threat passes.
Quickly making their way through the tunnel, the group find themselves back in the caves where they had previously been injured by the sabotaged pitchforks... while the hidden crucibles that light this chamber still cast its scorched plaster cliffs in a ruddy glow, the impish automatons that once sprang forth from every nook and crevice to surprise passersby now hang limply in mid-air, ejected from their hiding places but still tethered to their iron mounting rods, their miniature pitchforks dangling lifelessly from tiny mechanical claws...